I plan to wax poetic
Well, what else would I do?
Regarding quizzes, tests, exams
An, yes, assessments, too.
As children we disliked them
Invaders of our youth
Each one a deeply dreary, dark
Unloved moment of truth
We crammed instead of studdied
And raised our foolish voices
Against short answrs, true or false
And mad multiple choices
Is there a phrase more fright'ning
More seering or more spinal
Or maybe quite so morbid as,
"Tomorrow is your final!"
Alas, somehow I miss them
And yet, what's there to love
In A? AB? AB&C?
Or "None of the above"
It's how you know for certain
The progress that you've made
For after school it's rare that you'll
Be handed back a grade
Back there the field was level
Out here it's wet cement
I long to know just where I stand
In letters or per cent
Oh, for those days of testing
For them, what would I do?
When all I needed to prevail
Was a Ticonderoga
Number
2
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