The professor's song
Tom Lehrer
(To the tune of "If You Give Me Your Attention" from "Princess Ida" by Gilbert and Sullivan.)
The mathematician's version [1]
If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am.
I'm a brilliant math'matician - also something of a ham.
I have tried for numerous degrees, in fact I've one of each;
Of course that makes me eminently qualified to teach.
I understand the subject matter thoroughly, it's true,
And I can't see why it isn't all as obvious to you.
Each lecture is a masterpiece, meticulously planned,
Yet everybody tells me that I'm hard to understand,
And I can't think why.
My diagrams are models of true art, you must agree,
And my handwriting is famous for its legibility.
Take a word like "minimum" * (to choose a random word),
For anyone to say he cannot read that, is absurd.
The anecdotes I tell get more amusing every year,
Though frankly, what they go to prove is sometimes less than clear,
And all my explanations are quite lucid, I am sure,
Yet everybody tells me that my lectures are obscure,
And I can't think why.
Consider, for example, just the force of gravity:
It's inversely proportional to something -- let me see --
It's r3 -- no, r2-- no, it's just r, I'll bet --
The sign in front is plus -- or is it minus, I forget --
Well, anyway, there is a force, of that there is no doubt.
All these formulas are trivial if you only think them out.
Yet students tell me, "I have memorized the whole year through
Ev'rything you've told us, but the problems I can't do."
And I can't think why!
* At this point, the professor points to the word "minimum" on the blackboard, written in an intentionlly illegible scrawl.
The physicist's version [2]
If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am
I'm a genius and a physicist (and something of a ham).
I have tried for numerous degrees, in fact, I've one of each:
Of course, that makes me eminently qualified to teach.
I understand the subject matter thoroughly, it's true,
And I can't see why it isn't all as obvious to you.
My lectures all are masterpieces, excellently planned,
Yet everybody tells me that I'm hard to understand,
And I can't think why!
My diagrams are models of true art, you must agree,
And my handwriting is famous for its legibility;
When I write "gravitation," * say, or any other word,
For anyone to say he cannot read it is absurd.
My demonstrations all get more remarkable every year,
Though, frankly, what they go to prove is sometimes less than clear,
And all my explanations are quite lucid, I am sure,
Yet everybody tells me that my lectures are obscure.
And I can't think why!
Consider, for example, oscillation of a spring:
The force that acts upon it is a very simple thing,
It's kx3 -- no, kx2 -- no, just kx I'll bet,
The sign in front is plus (or is it minus?...I forget).
Well, anyway, there is a force, of that there is no doubt;
All these problems are quite trivial, if you only think them out.
Yet people tell me: "I have memorized the whole term through,
Everything you've told us, but the problems I can't do."
And I can't think why!
* At this point, the professor points to the word "gravitation" on the blackboard, written in an intentionlly illegible scrawl.