Phaedrus: Why do your students still lick Lady Gaga’s popsicle?
Socrates: Why have I poured my wine into the sea?
Phaedrus: Why won’t you create a clear assignment?
Socrates: Why do my students keep writing sentences that stab me?
Phaedrus: Who are you actually correcting?
Socrates: Why am I less happy when they produce flawless essays?
Phaedrus: Why do you prance before the blackboard like it’s a forest and you are Robin Hood?
Socrates: Why can’t the cute blonde girl like me longer?
Phaedrus: Why have most of your intellectual erections slumped?
Socrates: Where is my poetic verve, now that I can afford a voice?
Phaedrus: Who cares where you were six years ago?
Socrates: Who hears me from my hiding place, calling out from inside
winter’s cold wind? Anyone? Anyone?