This is the follow-up to an earlier post about a requested poem for all you curious commenters. It took some time to track it down. A warning: It has nothing to do with running.
Before reading on, allow me to apply a little context to what made 36 carefully arranged words so controversial back in the day. The course was Advanced Composition. I was one of three juniors in the senior-level class and the only one lacking the prerequisite, Basic Composition. So, I came to the class without proper credentials or a prior history.
To kick off a nine-week poetry section, the teacher gave us our first homework assignment: write a poem in any style and on any topic – except, she said, love or death. In a very condescending tone she said “you young people” do not truly understand those concepts and she was tired of reading tripe suggesting we did. Instead, she intoned, just write about something we know.
This led classmates like one cheerleader I knew to go home and craft the Dada-inspired “I Had a Cat.”
See what I was up against?
The night of the assignment, I sat on my twin bed and angrily penned a poem that incorporated both love and death. It took several sheets of college-ruled notebook paper till I got it right: the point where the “they” in the poem overtakes the “I” (i.e., people honestly yet erroneously deciding what’s in someone’s best interest) ... and when I’d finally realized I’d repeatedly misspelled mementos. Now, keep in mind, I was only 16. And what I knew was only that Mrs. Q needed to be taught a lesson.
The next class, my poem was on the board and at the start of class I was asked to explain it. I clammed up, stuttered and then listened as the teacher launched into a diatribe on plagiarism. I honestly don’t remember her words because my face felt ready to explode. The poem stayed up on the board the remainder of the day, with each class given the same warning about copying from other works.
I should have asked her to produce the original, since I knew she couldn’t. So maybe I deserved the F, not for my work but for failing to defend myself. Mrs. Q, in the meantime, later realized her mistake as more poems were produced. She eventually apologized to me privately in a comment on another assignment.
Before reading on, allow me to apply a little context to what made 36 carefully arranged words so controversial back in the day. The course was Advanced Composition. I was one of three juniors in the senior-level class and the only one lacking the prerequisite, Basic Composition. So, I came to the class without proper credentials or a prior history.
To kick off a nine-week poetry section, the teacher gave us our first homework assignment: write a poem in any style and on any topic – except, she said, love or death. In a very condescending tone she said “you young people” do not truly understand those concepts and she was tired of reading tripe suggesting we did. Instead, she intoned, just write about something we know.
This led classmates like one cheerleader I knew to go home and craft the Dada-inspired “I Had a Cat.”
I had a cat
He was fat
He got sick
Now he’s skinny.
See what I was up against?
The night of the assignment, I sat on my twin bed and angrily penned a poem that incorporated both love and death. It took several sheets of college-ruled notebook paper till I got it right: the point where the “they” in the poem overtakes the “I” (i.e., people honestly yet erroneously deciding what’s in someone’s best interest) ... and when I’d finally realized I’d repeatedly misspelled mementos. Now, keep in mind, I was only 16. And what I knew was only that Mrs. Q needed to be taught a lesson.
"A Newlywidow”
When I found out,
I wasn’t left alone
like I had wanted.
When I found out,
they didn’t leave his mementos
like I had wanted.
When they found out,
I needed adjustments
like they had wanted.
The next class, my poem was on the board and at the start of class I was asked to explain it. I clammed up, stuttered and then listened as the teacher launched into a diatribe on plagiarism. I honestly don’t remember her words because my face felt ready to explode. The poem stayed up on the board the remainder of the day, with each class given the same warning about copying from other works.
I should have asked her to produce the original, since I knew she couldn’t. So maybe I deserved the F, not for my work but for failing to defend myself. Mrs. Q, in the meantime, later realized her mistake as more poems were produced. She eventually apologized to me privately in a comment on another assignment.
This piece is anticlimatic, I know. It's a just a simple poem, but one I remain proud of producing as a teenager. I've held on to it all these years to remind me to aim high even if some people seem bent on making you feel small.
15 comments:
Bravo!
Sorry about the history of the poem though. Sometimes my students astonish me with their writing. We're in a poetry unit right now. One student no longer writes prose. She has poetry in her veins. Very cool to watch.
Thanks for dusting this off for us, Anne.
Interesting post. The same thing happened to me when I was a junior in high school - not with a poem, but an essay on the Beats - my teacher thought I plagiarized the essay. But after investigating, she had the decency to apologize to me in front of the class.
it's interesting how this lesson has stuck with you for so long!
SOME teachers don't get it. They have blinders. A teacher in high school gave my writing an "A" when my Big Sis' name was on the paper. When my name was at the top, he boldly wrote "C" and would tell me to ask Big Sis for some advice (outloud and in front of the class) on writing. *humph*
Oh...nice job!
You're a good writer Anne. I envy that so.
thanks for sharing ~ i love your aim high philosophy!
She is lucky she probably isn't teaching now, now with all the crap you can pull off the interenet and call your own. Some teachers just don't get it, but then those are the ones we learn to "work" with. Teaching is a two way street. Nice job Anne, you had the gift of writing at an early age.
It's too bad that you had to go through that experience. You are an amazing writer.
Congrats on your recent 5K!
Teachers don't realize how much impact they actually have on their students. I guess, if there is any consolation, she did apologize, even if it was privately. Thanks for sharing the poem.
It’s a good thing that all teachers are NOT like that and it makes me wonder haow much damage a few could do. What kind of difference did the experience have on your life?
I had a cat
He was fat
He got sick
Now he’s skinny.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I like this one and I am going to take it -lol
I wish I was in class more but I was always in the principles office for (guess what) yupper clowning around :-) Oh then I went off to college , whew!! what an adventure!
Good post thanks for sharing
It is so easy to dismiss a 16 year-old girl. Thanks for sharing and reminding us how narrow minded we can be as adults.
Thanks Anne. That's a nice lesson.
you are so good, such a good writer. do you do this all the time or something? :)
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