How Dean Grinch stole grad student stipends

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All grad students on campus liked stipends a lot,
But Dean Grinch, who stayed up in his office, did not.
Dean Grinch hated stipends! A waste of good income!
All possible miserly thoughts, he would think ’em.

It could be that he was too eager to please,
The ignorant, tightfisted Board of Trustees.
It could be he thought of tuition as pay,
Or it could be that old excuse, “Back in my day …”

Whatever the reason, his greed or his prudence,
He sat in his office chair, hating the students,
Staring down on the scholars who scurried like ants,
To their labs all aglow as they worked on their grants.

For he knew every student, the best and the worst,
Was happily flaunting the cash he disbursed.
“They’re off buying groceries!” Dean Grinch started grousing,
“They’re spending on health care! They’re paying for housing!”

Then he growled, with his Dean fingers frantically typing,
“I MUST find some way to keep stipends from stiping!”
For tomorrow, while singing a sweet stipend carol,
They’d all get their checks from the Office of Payroll.

Then the graduate students would all start to spend.
And they’d spend! And they’d spend! And they’d SPEND!
SPEND! SPEND! SPEND!
They’d spend all the wealth of their kingly existence,
When they ought to be living on public assistance!

And THEN they’d do something he took in bad faith:
Each graduate student, first year through eighth,
Would pause for a moment, stand still on the earth,
And all feel a moderate sense of self-worth.

They’d be pleased! Oh so PLEASED!
PLEASED! PLEASED! PLEASED!
And the more Dean Grinch thought of this sense of contentment,
The more his heart filled with a bitter resentment:

“Why, I’ve kept their stipends the worst in the nation.
I’ve stopped all accounting for yearly inflation,
Changed subjects whenever the students discussed rent—
I’ve fought every cost of living adjustment!”

Then Dean Grinch got an idea! An awful idea!
A WONDERFUL, MAYBE UNLAWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” he said, posed on his perch,
“We’ll swap out their stipends for school-branded merch!

We’ll tax their tuition! Invoice for degrees!
We’ll charge inexplicable library fees!
With all these deductions, with every free trinket,
They’ll never suspect what we’ve done. They won’t think it!”

Dean Grinch started listing how stipends would slim:
“Let’s start with a new fee for using the gym.
Then maybe a charge for tuition earmarking,
And a few hundred dollars for on-campus parking.”

Dean Grinch got excited with each random rule
To keep stipends flowing right back to the school:
“A cost for IT, and custodial crews!
And some kind of unexplained membership dues!

Make basic health services no longer gratis!
Exorbitant rates for nonresident status!”
He laughed as he added more charges and more,
“Why, I don’t even know what this last one is for!”

Then he put down his pen with a snort and a huff,
And loaded a duffel piled high with free stuff.
Dean Grinch strode onto campus, lugging his bag,
Distributing handfuls of preprinted swag.

“Look, students!” he cried as he walked at his own pace,
“A thingy that sticks to the back of your phone case!
A tumbler! A sweatshirt! A fob we’ll emboss!
Free seats no one wants at a game called lacrosse!

And none of these tchotchkes will cost you a cent!
For now you can see, based on how much we’ve spent,
That no matter your troubles, school spirit shines through,
And the folks at the top really care about you.”

As Dean Grinch crept away, as he tiptoed and hushed,
He heard a small sound, like a soul being crushed.
He turned and he saw, in a meek, shy, and stranded state,
Little Cindy First-Year, a new Ph.D. candidate.

She stared at Dean Grinch with a tear in her eye and said,
“Why are you taking our salaries? Why?”
But Dean Grinch didn’t rise through the ranks being scared;
He had all his rebuffs and rebuttals prepared.

“Why, my sweet little first-year,” he said with a smirk,
“You merely don’t realize how finances work.
Budgets are thin in these times of great fear,
And we simply can’t raise stipends. Maybe next year?

So sleep in the lab; go put your pajamas on.
If you want to be paid well, then go work for Amazon.
And let me correct one more point, if you please:
They’re not really ‘salaries.’ You’re not employees.”

Then he patted her head (which is not really fine,
Flouting both social distancing and Title IX),
And sent her on back with a bagful of goodies:
Mousepads, a keychain, and large-logo hoodies.

Once all of his freebies had new student owners,
He sat down to dinner with well-to-do donors,
And clinked champagne glasses with ombudsman chums,
Recounting his triumph to wealthy alums:

“They’re pausing their work, looking up from their pages,
And finding out now that we’ve taken their wages!
They’ll look at their checks, and they’ll cry, ‘Woe is me!
I should have stopped after my bachelor’s degree!’”

So he listened quite hard—but against all the odds,
He heard startling sounds rising up from the quads.
The students weren’t sad! They were happy as clams!
As though they had all just passed oral exams!

He raced across campus, astonished, surprised,
Till he realized what happened: They’d all unionized.
Yes, graduate students, all fresh out of patience,
Called the National Board of Labor Relations.

From now on they’d know where each exploitive fee went;
They’d bargain their pay by collective agreement.
Conditions would all have to be to their liking—
If not, any moment, they all could start striking.

Then Dean Grinch understood the results of his deeds.
“Maybe stipends,” he thought, “should support basic needs.
Maybe stipends … perhaps … should be set far and wide,
At amounts where recipients feel dignified.

If we want a workforce that’s smart and secure,
We shouldn’t be trying to keep them all poor.
And of course money’s tight, and it’s always bad timing,
But we can do better than nickel and diming.”

And what happened then? Well, on campus, they say,
That Dean Grinch’s checkbook grew three sizes that day.
And the graduate students whose lives were horrendous?
Now all of their stipends were simply … stipend-ous.