This here’s a tale for all the teachers
Gradin’ those papers in the empty bleachers
Try to turn Zoom bugs into features
Lookin’ for the choir but just findin’ preachers

Okay, professor, here’s a good stressor
Figuring out which evil is the lesser:
Students walk by and they should have a mask
But you’re part of cancel culture if you even ask

Next day’s meeting, Dean is bleating
Hard to crack a joke with six-foot seating
Who’ll teach a course for an extra grand?
And now you hear crickets, so you raise your hand

Class of seven? Sounds like heaven
But you need to keep your hours at the 7-Eleven
Their health plan helps you keep your groove
So come on, Doc, and bust a move

If you want it, we’ll cut it.
You want it? Baby, we’ll cut it.
(Just bust a move.)
You want it? We’ll cut it.
You want it? Baby, we’ll cut it.

You’re on a mission, and you’re wishin’
Folks would shut up about the cost of tuition
Everyone you know thinks you got cash
But your last full meal was a can of hash

Per a funny meme, it would certainly seem
You could do way better outside of academe
But your dad says that it’s even worse out there
So you mash a lemon Claw and drown your despair

Now the president’s full of hesitance
The school just lost a third of non-residents
You’re sittin’ there, hoping that you don’t convulse,
While Admissions tryna bag anything with a pulse

The dean’s pedantic actin’ hierophantic
Trying to sound calm, but it just makes you frantic
You gotta find a scene where things improve
So what comes next? You bust a move

If you write it, we’ll cite it.
You write it. Maybe we’ll cite it.
(Just bust a move.)
You write it? We’ll cite it.
You write it, maybe we’ll cite it.

None of our classes offer free passes
We work all year to wash up the masses
You want to have your students in a face-to-face
But first you gotta put ’em in your contact-trace

Used to be the thrill of us now it breaks the will of us
So damn tired of sayin’ “it’s in the syllabus!”
You never thought you’d be the type to whine
But an Alt-Ac job is looking mighty fine

Plagiarism, canon schism
No one understands your take on presentism
You want to help your buddy push her paper through
But she’s starting to suspect that you’re Reviewer 2

Vodka tonic, act sardonic
Just to hide anxiety that’s chronic
With all of this stress, it might behoove
Yourself to finally bust a move

If you want it, no budget.
You want it? Baby, no budget.
(Just bust a move.)
You want it? No budget.
You want it? Baby, no budget.
(Break it down for me, fellas.)

Your mentor Sherry has a load to carry
She needs help right now or she’ll be buried
She really is hopin’ you can make it there
‘Cause in the fall semester, she’ll be the new chair

You say, “See ya — love the idea!”
And roll to the campus in your ‘05 Kia
Working the committee gonna make you dizzy
But the guys can’t help because, of course, they’re busy

Used to be fanatical, dreaming of sabbatical
Now a weekend off is something radical
Sometimes teaching is a painful death
But you tap a box of wine, and you catch your breath

Next, some hater, legislator
Cuts your program funds, and so you crater
You know deep down you got nothing to prove
So hit your CV, and you bust a move

You don’t want it?
Well, you bought it.
(Just bust a move.)
You don’t want it?
Well, baby, you bought it.
(Move it, boy.)