An Associated Campus Entertainment- No Names, Please (ACE-NNP) production. Not to be distributed or reproduced without the explcit permission of the author. ACE-NNP is a group dedicated to the eternal preservation of the fond memories of 1989-1993 Servite High school and Tri-School theatre. To become an associate or for additional scripts, please consult your representative or the Masters of Inside Jokes. List of numbers Prologue: Faculty Songs (Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats) The Hiring of Teachers (The Naming of Cats) The Big Awards Luncheon (Invitation to the Jellicle Ball) Barbara Messerle, the Director of Activities (Jenny Any-Dot, the Old Gumbie Cat) Deacon Gabe Seamore (the Rum-Tum Tugger) Doris Walker, the Chemistry Teacher (Bustopher Jones, the Cat About Town) EJ Hunt and Eben McLane (Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer) Old Mister Eccleston (Old Deuteronomy) Song of the Faculty (Song of the Jellicles) Amy-Luskey, the Tri-School Head (Grizabella, the Glamour Cat) Memory (Memory) Robert, the English Teacher (Gus, the Theatre Cat) Librarian Jacqui Engelman (Growltiger's Last Stand) John G Ebbe, the History Teacher (Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat) Gregory, the Calculus Teacher (Macavity, the Mystery Cat) Senor Colunga (Mister Mistoffelees) Memory reprise (Memory reprise) Journey to Europe (Journey to the Heavyside Layer) The Ass-Kissing of Teachers (The Ad-Dressing of Cats) Editor's Note: because of the prevalence of sung lines, italics are used to indicate spoken text Prologue: Faculty Songs (Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats) ALL: (individually) Are you blind as a bat? Are you dull as a stick? Do lecture in French? Is your Latin just fine? Do you have Larry Walker come in if you're sick? Do your clothes and your car date from seventy-nine? Because faculty are and faculty do, faculty do and faculty would, Faculty would and faculty can, faculty can and faculty do. Are you losing your hair? Do you have a routine? Do you every Thanksgiving put on a few pounds? Do you run off ten thousand on the Xerox machine? Do you carry a key to the faculty lounge? Because faulty can and faculty do, faculty can and faculty do, Faculty do and faculty can, faculty can and faculty do. Faculty can and faculty do. Do you journey on freeways from places far distant, Deliver detentions to those who cry "fuck"? Were you Mr Quinn's friend? Father Matsico's assistant: Would you "hangman" a young man if his shirt was untucked? Do you moderate clubs? Do you drink at the pubs? Were you there when Deac Seamore was fired for life? Do you dictate tradition to seniors and scrubs? If you were and you are, you must teach at Servite. Faculty songs for faculty clowns, faculty songs for faculty clowns, Faculty songs for faculty clowns, faculty songs for faculty clowns, Faculty songs for faculty clowns Can you sing at the same time, in all the wrong keys, At Mass and whenever you're asked by Ray Dunne? Ahh... And can you essentially do as you please-- That is, except pull out a knife or a gun? Certified, classified, vilified peers, Some earn grimaces, some of them leers, Watch your tongue; Mike Carter will sue: Catholic values hope to imbue. The fights of pro-activities with academ's priorities... So let them miss your class, of course, especially for contact sports Eerie, leery, weary and true to others who do what Faculty do, and faculty can, faculty can and faculty do, Faculty sing for college prep class, faculty old and faculty new, Faculty mock the Mater Dei brats, Faculty songs for faculty clowns, faculty thin and teachers of mass, Faculty songs for faculty clowns, faculty songs for frivolous class: Practical class, dramatical classes, Pragmatical class, fanatical class, Oratorical class, delphic oracle class, Skeptical classes, dyspeptical class, Romantical class, pedantical class, Critical and parasitical class, Allegorical class, metaphorical class, statistical and mystical class Political class, hypocritical class, clerical class, hysterical class Cynical class, rabbinical class. Faculty songs for teachers tonight, That annoying tone that serves as our bell Faculty when they're breaking up fights, faculty at our Anaheim hell, Faculty songs for faculty clowns, faculty songs for faculty clowns, Faculty songs for faculty clowns, faculty songs for faculty clowns, Faculty songs for faculty clowns SOLO: There's a man over there with a look of surprise, As much as to say, well now how about that? Do I actually see with my own very eyes A man who's not hired to teach at Servite? ALL: (whisper) How's the faculty hired? How's the faculty hired? The Hiring of Teachers (The Naming of Cats) ALL: The Hiring of Teachers is an intricate process, It's not just as simple as many would like; So ponder a while as our mental floss flosses When I classify Servites in three distinct types. First, there's the qualified ones you see often, Such as Eccleston, Ebbe, McLane, Ellis James, Perez or Dom Unger, of course Mr. Cotton, Never "incompetent" next to their names. There are still other teachers, like old Father Justin, Senor Colunga's mind hasn't yet fallen, Calahan/Gross, Ms Frank, and McQuiston, And lastly we're sure to include Monk Verhallen. But what if the teacher's a priest or a coach? Or merely incompetent-- here is a list of: There's Stewart and Crawford and Walker and Roche And dear Mrs Martin, Ms Gibbs and Ms Nista Let's not forget Schoeman, or saintly Greg Lynn, Or Mike Pontarelli, or football coach Toner, Maureen Caballero, Ms Betts argues sin, Seamore as well when he's loose from his owner. And last there's incompetents, five for a quorum: Pathetic Nadashny and Singer were needy. Swim coach Sam Williams, Librarian Corum, Perhaps the most famous of all: Saeedy. There's still other teachers I've left here unclassed, They work on the fringes of Servite's main cliques, With quite a few number of those on the staff, Who sit in their office, push paper, and bitch. And these we have left, not because we were lazy, Because of their accent or loss of their hair, 'Cause 'Nary's obnoxious or Prinzi is crazy, But simply because we don't know why they're there. It's curious, spurious, in some ways injurious, Often makes us furious why they're there. The Big Awards Luncheon (Invitation to the Jellicle Ball) SOLO: Faculty, staff, will meet at 3, Hear us applaud and take our pay. The last day of class has come, you see, Everyone come to the luncheon today. Servite high staff meet once a year At the Big Awards Luncheon at 3 to rejoice And everyone's packed from the front to the rear, To see who will be the new faculty choice When Old Mister Eccleston, leading them all, Through a silence you feel you can cut with a knife, Announces the one who has lost all control And will have to take leave and go get a new life. And waiting for them is a West Europe trip, Full of wonders one out of them only see, And faculty ask, because faculty dare: Who will it be? Who will it be? AMY: Memory, turn your face from the ghost light; Let your memory lead you to the MACY to win: You'll discover the reason I direct all your plays. Let another play begin: The Director of Activities (The Old Gumbie Cat) SOLO: I have a woman tall in mind, her name is Barb'ra Messerle. Her schedule is quite full, you'll find, from xeroxing to ASB. Behind her theatre office desk, we wonder how she finds the time: She sits and sits and sits and sits and that is our Director's job... Our Director of Activities' job! ENSM: But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then Messerle's work is but hardly begun. BABS: The tech crew and Gilde need heavy labor: Adam and Tim, could you do me a favor? ENSM: And so from those teams filling slavery's range, She's got several dozen so the marquee gets changed. The others are washing windows or mopping, Others the American flag are dropping.. SOLO: Director of Activities and Manager 'f the Theatre Cheerleading Head is quite a squeeze, for she's Homecoming's Creator. She plans her day in her Caprice a-driving from her Long Beach home. She sits and sits and sits and sits and that is our Director's job... Our director of Activities' job! ENSM: But when the day's hustle and bustle is through, Her activities work she's just started to do. BABS: Make sure we're the top JSA in the nation, Be ready for fall when you go on vacation... ENSM: She will drive you insane with her meddling ways, Her menial labor that ruins the day, 'Cause she likes to plan with an arrogant flair In her varsity sweater, fake breasts and big hair... For she's a jolly good fellow... BABS: Thank you my dears! Deacon Gabe Seamore (The Rum-Tum-Tugger) ALL: Deacon Gabe Seamore was a terrible man: DEAC: If you contradict a lecture I will curse you all to hell. If you stood up for yourself I would laugh at your demands, If I'd had a lesson plan I'd ignore it just as well. ALL: Deacon Gabe Seamore's was a horrible class, DEAC: And it isn't any use for you to doubt it, ALL: For he will do as he do do and there's no doing anything about it! SOLO: Deacon Gabe Seamore was a terrible bore: DEAC: If I'd lecture ten, I would gossip for twelve, I'm always misinforming 'bout the Catholic Church, and any other study that a student starts to delve, I give out the answers to my tests, Then I wonder why you don't study for yourselves. SOLO: Deacon Gabe Seamore was not very smart, DEAC: And there isn't anything you can do about it ALL: For he will do as he do do and there's no doing anything about it! SOLO: Deacon Gabe Seamore was a chauvinist beast DEAC: I'm a racist and a sexist and I'm anti-Semitic, I can part crowds with my belly like nobody else can; All the while I will make sheriff's stories a habit, If you swore or made rude noises I would kick you out the door, 'Cause I do prefer to do those things myself. And you know I'll attack a random Servite class when I get up to send you to lunch from Mass. ALL: Deacon Gabe Seamore was clownish and dumb, Deacon Gabe Seamore is off on some cloud, DEAC: At a senior food fight I'll be sullen and glum; I'll dump water on your head if you get too proud. ALL: Deacon Gabe Seamore, a Hungarian ass, DEAC: And there isn't any need for me to spout it, ALL: For he will do as he do do, and DEAC: There's no doing anything a-bow, a-wow, a-wow, about it! Doris Walker, the Chemistry Teacher (Bustopher Jones, the Cat About Town) SOLO: Ms Walker, you see, had no talent to teach, And we question her license, no lie, Every junior despised her-- all those who surmised her-- We hope she'll soon depart Servite High She thought she was adoring, she was properly boring, And our prep for college chem was quite weak, Oh her horrible lectures on compounds and mixtures! By September third the outlook was bleak. Of the Servite High teachers, this odd woman's features Somewhat made up for Chemistry's bore. During lecture we'd fuss, then after school we'd discuss Our peculiar chem teacher some more. DORIS: My makeup tests are laughable, my daughter is quite affable, My Rolls-Royce is new and in tune I'm so strict about goggles your mind will be boggled, 'Cause they're on if you but look at the room. And for five or six days we will drill on the ways That a good calculation is wrote A CSU textbook by Zumdahl's the next book We'll use 'cause I'm dumb, you should note, And we'll watch Roald Hoffman, but not nearly so often To offset misinformation between, Once a week laryngitis will make my voice tightest; I'll be squeaky or silent but mean, If do what I ask, or dump the wrong flask, Then wait 'cause I'll mark down your tests If you need some advice, or your shirt isn't nice, Then I'll just dismiss you as a pest. ALL: Of the Servite High teachers, this odd woman's features' Descriptions could fill up a store. SOLO: During lecture we'd fidget (in significant digits) And talk about Ms Walker some more. So much in this way passes Doris's day, On lectures as useless as dirt, So the time we spend there, we discuss natty hair, Her leg warmers, sweaters, and skirts. She's a two hundred pounder, or I am a bounder, And she's putting on weight every day: But she's so well-preserved because she's observed All her life a routine; and she'll say DORIS: Well, I could teach at Claremont, said the teachers at Fairmont, 'Stead I chose to come teach at Servite. Of the labs I am czar, with my cigarete tar, And I'll see you in detention tonight. EJ Hunt and Eben McLane (Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer) SOLO: EJ Hunt and Eben McLane were two notorious English teachers. Two masters of the language arts department, A pair of undoubtedly erudite creatures. They paraded about like an oxymoron, Like left and right, or grace and sin. The one on the right babbling on 'bout boron, The other poetic 'bout Sawyer and Finn. If a man went backpacking across the nation And quit smoking to his own jubilation, If he went scuba diving and repelled a shark And returned to break a kneecap in the evening dark, If another went to Harvard to study English But majored in Chinese Lit, not in English. Or out in the rain the other day He accident'lly ruined his fav'rite beret. Then the Honors class would ask "Had he sandals, or hat?" For It was EJ Hunt or Eben McLane, and most the time, They left it at that! EJ Hunt and Eben McLane had an unusual gift of the gab They would pause about genre to tell a story, Whether talkin' bout their diet or an Ivy League grad. They'd play around like five-year olds, One in suspenders, the other in fins. If it weren't for the plaid, the hair or the fat, A person could possibly say they were twins. When the Honors class assembled for Mr Cotton Determined William Shakespeare'd remain forgotten Or Taylor's Meditations would be put aside, When their teacher would appear and make a comment snide, And say in a voice that was broken with sorrow: "I'm afraid your exams tests won't be finished tomorrow! If you wait another week we'll be back on plan..." And the students there would say "It's that horrible man! It was EJ Hunt and Eben Mclane, That's all that they say, 'Cause it's all that they can. EJ Hunt and Eben McLane had a wonderful way of working together, And even though you thought they should cancel out, Both would continue to lecture on weather Of race relations, Grammatical Man, Octobrists, Deist ontologies, Mendelian traits or quantum physics, extolling the gems in the OED. And when down the hallway was exchanged advice On just how much southern New Hampshire was nice Or across the cars parking one sunny day Came screaming an Impala from Chevrolet; Then the scores of students taught asked "Now, what was that? It was EJ Hunt and Eben McLane," And there's nothing at all to be done about that... And there's nothing at all to be done about that! Old Mister Eccleston (Old Deuteronomy) ALL: I believe it was Old Mister Eccleston... Well of all things, wrong-handed ingrate: oO teachers there is only one Our English comp guru, eccentric and bright, And we all cherish Old Mister Eccleston. Well of all things, petulant savage, Garbage Mouths, tardies, all done: His desk may be wobbly, the Bible is worn, But be careful of Old Mister Eccleston. SOLO: Old Mr Eccleston's taught here a while, Perhaps a retired pro basketball player Fujino and Daniel he does quite revile, And authors of papers with run-ons need prayer ECC: Pupils facetious, like Jozee and Day, Will be thrown out if they don't have their ticket, Exit or enter my class the wrong way, Or jump on their desk at the sight of a cricket. SOLO: At the sight of that cardigan sweater and tie, The Hemingway beard and Pall Malls in his pocket, The chorus of students begins... Well of all things, wrong-handed ingrate: Of teachers there is only one Our English comp guru, eccentric and bright, And we all cherish Old Mister Eccleston. Well of all things, petulant savage, Garbage Mouths, tardies, a;; dpme: His desk may be wobbly, the Bible is worn, But be careful of Old Mister Eccleston. The Song of the Faculty (The Song of the Jellicles) ALL: (spoken in rhythm) Faculty members come tonight, staffers and coaches, come today The seniors have gone and the Luncheon begins: the Big Award Luncheon, the end of May. Jellicle Cats are black and white, Jellicle Cats are rather small; Jellicle Cats are merry and bright and pleasant to hear when we caterwaul. Jellicle Cats have cheerful faces, Jellicle Cats have bright black eyes; We like to practice our airs and graces, And wait for the Jellicle Moon to rise. Jellicle Cats develop slowly, Jellicle Cats are not too bigl Jellicle Cats are roly=poly We know gow to dance a gavotte and a jig. Until the Jellicle Moon appears, We make our toilette and take our repose; Jellicles wash behind their ears, Jellicles dry between their toes. Jellicle Cats are white and black, Jellicle Cats are of moderate size; Jellicles jump like a jumping jack, Jellicle Cats have moonlit eyes We're quiet enough in the morning hours, We're quiet enough in the afternoon, Reserving our terpsichorean pwers to dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon. Jellicle Cats are black and white, Jellicle Cats (as we said) are small; If it happens to be a stormy night We will practice a caper or two in the hall. If it happens the sun is shining bright You would say we had nothing to do at all: We are resting and saving ourselves to be right for the Jellicle Moon and the Jellicle Ball Jellicle Cats come out tonight, Jellicle cats come one come all: The Jellicle moon is shiing bright; Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball. (here follows the Jellicle Ball) Amy Barth, the Tri-School Head (Grizabella, the Glamour Cat) SOLO: Remark the one who hesitates at the kids Who look down on her with a grin. You see her countenance is weak and torn and wrought with stress, And you see the tears that well up fast at Tri-School's latest mess. She starred in many a Tri-School play, At the Ros'ry High of yesterday. A decade ago, finished USC, came back to form a new company And the Thespian troupe quite pitied her, As she wept once again in the theater. No matter how livid, she loves her art: Our Tri-School leader, Ms Amy Barth Tri-School leader, Ms Amy Barth, Tri-School leader, Ms Amy Barth No matter how livid, she loves her art: Our Tri-School leader, Ms Amy Barth Memory AMY: Daylight, see the teenagers flirting, 'Fore we meet for our next show, last performance today. Like the freshmen I yearn to turn my face to Encore-- I await the first of May. Memory, turn your face to the ghost light, Let your memory lead you, to a saga that ends, When the Class of Nineteen Ninety Three is no more, Surely then my heart will rend. Memory, all alone as they set up I can smile at the old days, it was beautiful then I remember the MACY's that we've won in the past-- Will we ever win again? Horrid wasted days of Pippin, Crucible, and Dolly And that show with Richardson and Erin-- Encore! could be folly... Daylight, we must practice past midnight, I must think of the next few that I'll favor for life, And there's classes, and meetings, and my children need care-- And I still think I'm a wife. Spotlights on the next Jean Selden, Erin, Adam, Jenny... But no Mike McCoy has shown his talent, and I'd pay pretty penny... Touch me, it's so easy to leave me All alone with the memory of my days in the sun If you touch me you'll understand what happiness is Look a new show has begun Robert, the English Teacher (Gus, the Theatre Cat) SOLO: Well guess who has been here for thirty long years: His name, as he's called by his faculty peers Is fully Robert Cotton, But that's much too hard To say, so we usually call him just "god." His posture looks painful, he's thin as a rake, And wears the most dull cord'roy suits that they make. But he is without question the smartest of men, And as sharp with the tongue as he is with the pen. And whenever he teaches AP English 4 (In B period class upstairs from Mrs. Moore) He heckles his students, with a dirty look And with vocab words drawn from the thick Webster's book For the pupils know less at the start of each year; They can't understand Beowulf or read Bill Shakespeare He has banned them from reading old Paradise lost: They are but relegated to Austen or Frost, Nor the greatest of authors from good old Britain-- Old Geoffrey Chaucer, of Cant'bury fame. ROB: I've reread, in my time, every poetic piece, And I wish the production of Phantom would cease. I memorized the latest London Review, For I'm inf'nitely wiser and older than you. I still can write essays to make people pale For with classics by Penguin, you never can fail I know when the Germans are coming, or not, And I know how to put Daniel C on the spot. I have taught twenty years' worth of ad'lescent men; Once they print my new textbooks, I'll do it again. And my Roman students who turned in rough drafts Now lecture at Oxford, with notes from my class. SOLO: Then if someone will tell Robert he's incorrect, The latter recites from Perrine's noble text. MTV and acedia banished: his thing; In phenomenological critiques, he's king. ROB: And don't jeop'rdize for my amusement your grades, Which require much padding from the test yesterday And it's trite but ineffable why Yankee lit Will never in your lifetime equal the Brits'. And I say as from pacing I take a short pause: Well lit'rature's certainly not what it was. These novels by Clancy are all very well, But there's nothing to equal from what I can tell Librarian Jacqui Engelman (Growltiger's Last Stand) CHORUS: Librarian Jacqui Engelman made many freshmen sad, The roughest libr'ry keeper Servite High School's ever had. The bookstore and the video room at open house she pitched. (She did not mention that they called her "That librarian bitch.") In looks and conversation voice no nicety was found; Her glasses stared quite coldly and her hair was tightly wound. In one hand were referral slips; with pens behind her ears She'd fend off with an insult any student's wary leers. Woe to the rowdy idiot who wandered in too late, Woe to the chairless sophomore who'd been kicked out twice to date. Woe to the eating junior, the computer gaming crowd And most of all to any group a decibel too loud! But most of all to seniors and to freshman she was ired: To members of these classes she of yelling never tired. In her glass-enclosed office, old Jacqui sat alone, Concentrating her attention on the brand-new telephone. And her crew of qui't assistants were absent for the day As the students entered, creeping in to start their play And Jacqui had no thoughts but for her new computer mouse, And the woman seemed enraptured since the keyboard didn't grouse. Confused by Apple monitors, awaiting no surprise, She apparently had failed to see the students had grown wise. Then one of them did signal to the kids assembled there: In a blinding burst of angry shouts-- she didn't have a prayer. She couldn't get control again, and she was badly skeered. But unlike Mr Corum did, she didn't disappear! She could have left with severance pay, a contract skim will find But instead the students sick of her had made her lose her mind! More likely to annoy a soul than snap or chase away, The school, the students' vast surprise, asked Engelman to stay. While Richardson and Corum both had quickly lost their nerve, Neither chose to stay like her and babble pointless blurbs, To startle with her comments, embarass with her hands, Or treat the Servite library as if it were quite grand. Oh there was hate at lunchtime and and break when it was wet; The library was empty, 'cept for Jacqui's doting pets They mourned the loss of study space that once was loud and fun. But a day of celebration was commanded by Ray Dunne. John G Ebbe, the History Teacher (Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat); SOLO: There's a whisper out of Brian at eleven fifty-nine: The Disciples're ready to win. Saying Ebbe, where is Ebbe, Is he on the lunch line, mebbe? If he's gone, Trivia Bowl can't begin. Did you check up on his class? Through the lounge's tinted glass? 'Cause the next in charge is Cho! EBBE: That's when I would appear with my lunch from the rear, I'd been fetching my golfing clothes. ALL: Then he gave one flash of his new house keys, And said `Let's go, sports fans.' They began at last with the clock ticking fast And you'd know Mister E was the man. John G Ebbe, hist'ry teacher, advisor to NHS! SOLO: When November rolled around, he began with a pound Of Cream of Brussel Sprouts. It was competition time and it's tantamount to crime If they don't beat Perez's class out. He offered extra credit and as Nista might have said it He bought his way to the top. So the Canned Food Drive of the junior class Did elevate his name, I confess. And so Mister E, who taught AP, became advisor to NHS. SOLO: After Jeopardy! he roared; of Drew's tardiness he bored, so he said he'd coach golf, what the heck. After yelling at Kiwanis, dumping AP tests upon us He approached and coached the JV golf team. And at the end of the season, he was clearly the reason that their new trophy did gleam. ALL: Though he had bad breath and was hardly deft at encouragement, you could see. His ridiculous bad voices and his fourteen essay choices and the dice for Joseph B. And we'd ask him quite politely and report to him quite brightly øCan we have our project due date pushed back?ø But he laughed and he snickered and the candle of hope flickered and we knew our projects would be in on pat. When we took that sixty-dollar test and bewailed our great misfortune, Gregory, the Calculus Teacher (Macavity, the Mystery Cat) SOLO: Greg'ry teaches calculus and other higher math, For those who take the Honors track, he's standing in your path, He terrifies with postulates, his theorems are insane, 'Cause when its time for theory, men-- Gregory won't explain. Gregory, Gregory, no teacher like Gregory, Who trifles with the integral, to say so's hardly flattery, His proofs and problem reasoning are every student's bane, 'Cause every unit starts anew what Gregory won't explain! You may look in several textbooks, but your search is made in vain: For every is more of just what Gregory can't explain! Gregory's a Nordic god, who surfs when not in school, His accent speaks of Stony Brook, he likes his classroom cool, His copious use of chalk makes for a dusty, messy time; His home is down in Seal Beach; his Daihatsu's worth a dime. Gregory, Gregory, just try to keep with Gregory, So effortlessly calculating limits at infinity, You may have him first for algebra-- I guess that's just unfair, 'Cause when you get to calculus, it's Gregory who's there! You may think you know your series, your sums beyond compare, But even Joseph Bester of old Gregory bewares! He's outwardly respectable (he worked on the B-2) But his methods are not found in any book (nor any clued) So when you get to Greene or L'Hopital or Gauss's theories, And absolute convergent sequential sums have got you weary, Or partial fraction secant integration goes astray, You might hear from Gregory "I'll explain it-- not today" Gregory, Gregory, there's no one like Gregory, His notes are worth their weight in gold, I'd pay for each and every, He stays behind to tutor, if he's got a while to spare: But you're trying to get related rates, but Gregory's out there! And for vector-value functions, polar function derivations, Or hyperbolic tangent curves with logbased fluctuations, Or Taylor polynomials and quadric surface ends, "Thanks for the lecture, Gregory! Now can you start again?" You'll be sure to catch the chain rule for a differential plane, But what of rectilinears? And who the hell's Lagrange? Gregory, Gregory, do partial fractions, Gregory, Non-homogenous equations, two-degree trajectory, He'll pause before a problem, our discriminant will tell, But implicit fractional powers ought to sound a warning bell! And they say the teachers who not on planet Earth (I might mention Mr Cotton, I might mention Mrs Barth) Are nothing more than pupils of the man who all the time Just abuses chalk and lectures not-- let's call that "sigma prime" Gregory, Gregory, try calculating Gregory, Who blabs continuous functions while his classroom is a chattery, Just be careful if you love your math, and try not to despair: Where AP calculus is taught-- it's Gregory who's there! Se±or Colunga (Mister Mistoffeles) SOLO: You ought to ask Senor Colunga! The amazing calculating man! Oh the greatest of science have something to learn From the great Senor Colunga's conjuring turn... Presto! And we all say Well, glad to meetcha, Honors Physics' Hispanic teacher: Spectacular Senor Colunga! ALL: Well, glad to meetcha, Honors Physics' Hispanic teacher: Spectacular Senor Colunga! SOLO: He is quiet, he is short, he is smart, He can dot-product multiply vectors. He'll define momentum in a cart, He'll divide force fields into sectors. He is quick with a resonance wave, He is equally cunning with force; He is very much efficient with a friction coefficient, Or dispersion from a infrared source. He can play any trick on the Mac, Run a program 'bout electrical pow'r, When he gives all your lab reports back, Though it may have taken you a half hour, Just ask Senor, and problems he will give That you won't understand for as long as you live... ALL: Well, glad to meetcha, Honors Physics' Hispanic teacher: Spectacular Senor Colunga! Well, glad to meetcha, Honors Physics' Hispanic teacher: Spectacular Senor Colunga! SOLO: His manner is vague and aloof, You would think there was nobody kinder. Then he hears a cat pounce the roof, And takes it to a Viet meat grinder. And once he was seen throwing cats, Just to prove that Newton was right. (At least all the crowd knows something meowed); And in fact a spectacular sight To see, knowing Senor's distaste For creatures of the genus of cats And he hopes that a train in great haste Will smash his wife's kittens like that... And not long ago this phenomenal man Tested laws of kinetics with a cat 'n frying pan... And we all said ALL: Well, glad to meetcha, Honors Physics' Hispanic teacher: Spectacular Senor Colunga! Well, glad to meetcha, Honors Physics' Hispanic teacher: Spectacular Senor Colunga! Memory AMY: Midnight. Not a sound from the backstage. Is Joe Collins unmindful? He is drinking my wine. In the dim lights the roaches in the wings start to swarm. And the Barth kids begin to mime. Memory. All alone in the ghost light, I could smile at the Macy's; people loved me back then. These four years were a time I knew what happiness was. Let McCoy please live again. Heart attacks and nervous breakdowns-- Encore!'s clearly stress time. Props are missing and the cast is hissing and soon it will be show night. Sunday, I must wait for the mat'nee, I must think of my flowers And I mustn't give in. When the strike comes Encore! will be a memory too, and a new show must begin... I recall the fog machine; I typecast Mister Lundie. My seniors leave, another year is over, and I haven't lost my funding. Touch me. It's so easy to leave me, All alone with the memory Of my days in the sun. The Journey to the Faculty Lounge (Journey to the Heavyside Layer) ALL: Up up up past the theatre stairs; up up up up to the Faculty Lounge. Up up up past the theatre stairs; up up up up to the Faculty Lounge. Up up up past the theatre stairs; up up up up to the Faculty Lounge. Up up up past the theatre stairs; up up up up to the Faculty Lounge. The Tricking of Teachers (The Ad-dressing of Cats) You've learned the Servite faculty and my opinion now is that You needn't be in Calculus or AP French or all that fuss To learn to trick the teachers here while half-asleep or drinking beer You've seen them both at work and games and learnt about their proper names Their oddities and how they slip but how exactly is one tricked? So first I'll repeat what's been told-- a High School Teacher is old. With teachers, some say, do cajole until they forget what you stole. Myself, I find that too uncouth With teachers, never tell the truth. And always keep in mind that they resent familiarity. Suck up, and looking in their eye, address him in a prepared lie. Before a teacher's dumb enough to trust you with their mailbox stuff, Some little token of respect is needed, like a powder puff, A coffee mug or picture case, a tie or shirts from Utah State. Some compliments, laugh at their jokes, and ask about their cats and folks And so in time your life is made and then they raise your quarter grade. A teacher certainly expects to think that you'll give respect So that is that and this is this and that is how teachers are tricked (repeat) SOLO: Old Mr Eccleston's taught a long time, retiring from pro basketball long ago. And the Thespians sighed at the sobbing dear: She had tried to do it all again this year Livid with stress as students approach, she's Amy Luskey the drama coach... Memory AMY: Midnight. Not a sound from the backstage. Is Joe Collins unmindful? He is drinking my wine. In the dim lights the roaches in the wings start to swarm. And the Barth kids begin to mime. Memory. All alone in the ghost light, I could smile at the Macy's; people loved me back then. These four years were a time I knew what happiness was. Let McCoy please live again. Heart attacks and nervous breakdowns-- Encore!'s clearly stress time. Props are missing and the cast is hissing And soon it will be show night. Sunday, I must wait for the mat'nee, I must think of my flowers And I mustn't give in. When the strike comes Encore! will be a memory too, And a new show must begin... I recall the fog machine; I typecast Mister Lundie. My seniors leave, another year is over, and I haven't lost my funding. Touch me. It's so easy to leave me, All alone with the memory of my days in the sun. If you touch me you'll understand what happiness means Let the memory live again... The Journey to the Faculty Lounge (Journey to the Heavyside Layer) ALL: Up up up on your salary pay, past the theatre stairs; up up up up to the Faculty Lounge. Up up up past the theatre stairs; up up up up to the Faculty Lounge. Up up up past the theatre stairs; up up up up to the Faculty Lounge. Up up up past the theatre stairs; up up up up to the Faculty Lounge. The Tricking of Teachers (The Ad-dressing of Cats) SOLO: You've learned the Servite faculty and my opinion now is that You needn't be in Calculus or AP French or all that fuss To learn to trick the teachers here while half-asleep or drinking beer You've seen them both at work and games and learnt about their proper names Their oddities and how they slip but how exactly is one tricked? So first I'll repeat what's been told-- a High School Teacher is old. With teachers, some say, do cajole until they forget what you stole. Myself, I find that too uncouth With teachers, never tell the truth. And always keep in mind that they resent familiarity. Suck up, and looking in their eye, address him in a practices lie. Before a teacher's dumb enough to trust you with their mailbox stuff, Some little token of respect is needed, like a powder puff, A coffee mug or picture case, a tie or shirts from Utah State. Some compliments, laugh at their jokes, and ask about their cats and folks And so in time your life is made and then they raise your quarter grade. A teacher certainly expects to think that you'll give respect So that is that and this is this and that is how teachers are tricked (repeat)