Here’s the backstory to this story and song. It all started when Anna Esaki-Smith posted an article she had written for Forbes titled International Student Numbers Generally Down At U.S. Colleges This Fall on LinkedIn. Here’s her message introducing the article: No surprise to see a general fall in international student numbers at US university campuses this fall, but the reality is stark. The University of Cincinnati reports a steep 25% decline in international graduate students and a 33% fall in total students from India alone. Despite clashing with Trump, Columbia has maintained international student levels, as has Brown. Now with OPT in the administration’s sights, the outlook remains bearish.

And here’s the exchange that “inspired” the story below and the song on which it’s based.

John Wilson: Why is it that every article that blares a title indicating a decline in international students for Fall intake inevitably includes a paragraph or two featuring outliers with stable or increased international student numbers? Am I mistaken that a casual reader will think that things may not be so bad?

Mark Ashwill: I’m always happy to hear about exceptions, but am well aware that they don’t disprove the rule.

John Wilson: I think I’ll write an article about how everyone loves ice cream, babies, and apple pie. In my article, I’ll spend half of the content glorifying those who hate ice cream, babies, and apple pie. Fair and Balanced. Both sides are correct. I give up.

Note: The story and the lyrics, both of which edited, were created by ChatGPT based on my customized prompts. Enjoy!

A Scoop of Fairness

In the Atlanta suburb of Decatur, the annual “Sweet & Simple Festival” was about to begin. Every year, the townsfolk gathered in the square to celebrate three beloved things: ice cream, babies, and apple pie.

Well—beloved by most people.

On one side of the square, under a banner that read “Life’s Better with a Scoop!”, cheerful vendors served towering cones of chocolate, strawberry, and mint chip. Babies giggled in strollers, apple pies cooled on windowsills, and people sighed with contentment. “There’s nothing more perfect than this,” said Martha, a retired teacher. “Ice cream, babies, and pie—the holy trinity of happiness!”

But across the square, a quieter group had set up under a sign that said “It’s Okay to Disagree.” There sat John Wilson, a local freelance international student recruiter, who found ice cream too cold, babies too loud, and apple pie too sticky. “Everyone acts like you’re heartless or you’re a curmudgeon if you don’t coo at a baby or eat dessert,” he grumbled, sipping his black coffee. “I just prefer silence and salad with lots of kale,” he muttered.

His friend, Rita Cool, who had flown in from New York for the festival, nodded. “I respect pie enthusiasts. But I don’t like that cinnamon scent taking over everything. Why can’t we just not like things without being called grumpy?”

The mayor, Patti Garrett, an affable woman who’s famous for never taking sides, called a meeting in the middle of the square. “Folks,” she said, “we seem divided over ice cream, babies, and apple pie. But maybe there’s no right or wrong—just taste.”

Rita, holding a vanilla cone without a hint of cinnamon, looked at John with a knowing smile. “You know, it’s fine if you don’t want dessert. You can still join the festival.”

He chuckled. “And it’s fine if you do. Just don’t make me hold a crying baby,” he said, finishing his coffee and moving on to a craft beer.

They both laughed.

That afternoon, the two groups came together for the closing toast. Some raised spoons, others mugs of coffee. Some cooed at babies, others admired the sunset in peace.

Because in Decatur, a blue drop in a sea of red, they learned that love and dislike could share the same table—so long as there was room for everyone, whether they wanted apple pie or not.

Moral:
You don’t have to like what everyone else loves. And you don’t have to hate what others dislike. Both sides can be right—if they’re willing to listen.

(Verse 1) In Decatur town, where the peaches grow sweet, folks gather ‘round on the old Main Street. For the “Sweet & Simple,” that hometown fair, with laughter and pie scent fillin’ the air. Martha’s smiling, cone in hand, chocolate drippin’ where the brass band stands. She smiles, “Life’s grand with a scoop in hand!” But some just don’t seem to understand.

(Chorus) And that’s okay, that’s alright, we don’t all need to see the same light. Raise your spoon or your coffee cup high, we can still share the same blue sky. In Decatur, under that Georgia sun, there’s room for everyone — yeah, room for everyone.

(Verse 2) Now John Wilson’s leanin’ back in his chair, says, “Ice cream’s cold, and there’s babies everywhere.” Sippin’ black coffee, no sugar, no cream, Livin’ his truth in a vanilla dream. Rita Cool flew in from New York’s chill, said, “That cinnamon scent just gives me the willies still.” She smiled and shrugged, “We don’t have to agree. I’ll take a salad — hold the apple tree.”

(Chorus) And that’s okay, that’s alright, we don’t all need to see the same light. Raise your spoon or your coffee cup high, we can still share the same blue sky. In Decatur, where hearts weigh a ton, there’s room for everyone — yeah, room for everyone.

(Bridge) Mayor Patti stood tall in the late-day glow, Said, “There’s no right flavor, folks — just so you know.” Some love a baby’s laugh, some love the hush, but peace tastes best when we lose the rush.

(Chorus – Final) And that’s okay, that’s alright, we don’t all need to see the same light. Raise your spoon or your coffee cup high, we can still share the same blue sky. In Decatur, where kindness won, there’s room for everyone — yeah, room for everyone.

(Outro) So here’s to pie, and here’s to kale, to stories shared and every tale. In a world that spins ‘neath the same bright sun, there’s always room… for everyone.

Version 1

Version 2

On a serious note, many apply this kind of moral equivalence to issues like the ongoing Israeli-executed genocide and ethnic cleansing in Gaza, as if a well-funded and equipped military is on par with a civilian population. As the saying goes, we can agree to disagree about pizza toppings or ice cream, babies, and apple pie, but not about existential matters like crimes against humanity and war crimes.

Peace, MAA