The first day of class
The roster is passed
The syllabus is posted
Your free-time is toasted

As you eye texts required
Your nerves become fired
When you think of the funds
The breath leaves your lungs

The first day of section
You cut by election
For the hours of sleep
That you did not keep

That night, the reading
You misread for misleading
Directions, one to seventeen
Instead of one to one-seventeen

The lecture is confusing
For the words she is using
Were on page thirty-five
To which you did not arrive

But you get down to business
When a fail mark you witness
On the map-quiz you botched
By "studying" with scotch

You get to class early
Your eyes still blurry
To retake the quiz
That you mustn't again miss

To your surprise
For half your answers were lies
You pass with a C
Which you owe your friend Lee

Who without money or flowers
Coached you till small hours
And once back on track
The class,
Youactually pass