Reamed out

6/7/10 Four reams of copy paper, donated to Guy E. Rowe Elementary School

There now is a valued machine,
Whose malfunction does make teachers mean.
All through the day,
It labors away,
Making copies crisp and pristine.

In the staffroom corner it does stand,
Tree are felled, clearing the land.
Yes, how far we come,
Those old days are done,
When the monks had to do it by hand.

The world was not always this way,
Before, teachers planned the whole day,
No paper to waste,
A reality they faced,
Sloppy teaching led to naught but dismay.

Now, all one needs is the button to touch.
Copies by the bushel are never too much.
Color, cut, and clip,
Keep your mouth zipped,
Has the machine become a bit of a crutch?

And there are some who still long to laugh,
At those pages, filled with writing and math,
When one little sniff,
Could give you a lift,
Those were the days of the beloved mimeograph.

Now the Xerox rules the teacher's prep time.
"I just need five copies, may I cut in line?"
It's widely well known,
As the teaching cornerstone,
Without it, learning would stop on a dime.

And so, the teaching Gods I placate,
With five days left, there is no time to wait,
With budgets so tight,
This downsize is right
To the school, much paper I donate.