While these memories probably don't sound very fun, they weren't that bad. Just as "there are no atheists in a foxhole," the people involved in a cramming session become, at least for the moment, incredibly good friends. About three hours in, we would all get loopy, and all of the authors and their works started running together.
"Cramming for Finals" perfectly captures this giddy mix of euphoria, desperation, and confusion that often comes with an end of the semester study session.
"Cramming for Finals"
by Philip Appleman
End of term, will a six-pack do us
while we speed-read Upton Sinclair Lewis?
So far behind, can we possibly ever
catch up on E. A. Robinson Jeffers?
Who said it was going to be multiple choice
on the later work of O. Henry James Joyce?
What's the plot of The Rise of Silas Marner? Who
remembers the Swiss Family Robinson Cru-
soe? Midnight—late. One A.M.—tardy.
Was Laurence Sterne? Was Thomas Hardy?
And hey—was John Gay?
Oh, let's take a break and all get mellow,
take our chances on Henry Wordsworth Longfellow,
and maybe later give a lick and a promise
to the earlier lyrics of Bob Dylan Thomas.
As a self-professed English nerd (or maybe I'm a geek), I love the puns and the mixed-up author names. Yes, this is the sort of thing that makes me happy.