My wife is teaching sonnets, and in “helping” I completely ripped apart her lesson. We have been having a tiff about how much time she spends correcting (she’s a high school teacher) and how she is choosing students over family time by how she designs her course, assignments given and the detail of her corrective remarks.

For the record, I am a huge Nancie Atwell junkie and very inquiry based (compared to my peers). Much of what we do is set-up by me, and then they go, go, go. My wife is also very student centered, for high school, but her high standards forces her to fill in the gaps left by self exploration. Her projects have shorter time horizons.

She was sharing a site that talked about using “Green Eggs and Ham” as an introduction. At this time, I am sick of “entertaining” students and trying to convince them to learn. Like a pendulum, I at times try and be student-centered and relevant before swinging towards “just learn it” in attitude. I am currently in the latter.

My suggestion was to use those sonnets most often quoted to promote cultural literacy. I also suggested projecting a single sonnet and having them deconstruct it using a way that makes sense to them: visual, graph, table, graphic organizer, words on little slips of paper…. whatever. Then, they post their deconstructions on the wall for everyone to see. Students look at the products, and note which work for their brain. Finally, I suggest she project a new sonnet and have them use one of the techniques to “get” it. Discussion and analysis comes from the organizers.

In theory, by having them “do the work”, a central tenant of my teaching, they live the method of poetry analysis, construct personal meaning for the poem and understand why we teach poetry. People only understand poetry when it is up to their elbows and chaps their lips.

So, in seeking that perfect cultural poem I found this more interesting one. It mocks other love poems. Students will like it. It is, of course, one of the more famous sonnets; I suggest offering one which Shakespeare might have been mocking.

Of course, she has her own plan. I am sure it will work, but it’s not mine so it is, of course, slightly inferior. Ah, love.

Sonnet 130
My Mistress’ Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun
William Shakespeare

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Another from “The 100 Best Love Poems of All Time“, edited by Leslie Pockell. Some things about Lear’s classic.

First, I had never heard of the thing until my friend Claire sent my two year old son a fanciful copy of the book. I later came across an old cassette tape of it being read, which required that I find an old cassette player and turn the tape over ever three minutes. It had a cool Rasta beat behind it, and was read with a Jamaican lilt. Very pleasant.

Second, in watching the Disney classic “Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day”, Owl lets drop that he is a relative of this owl. It is an interesting detail the creators threw in, and this adult appreciated it.

Third, this poem demonstrates the creation of the term “runcible spoon”. It makes me sad that in some editions of the poem, another term is used.

I then looked up the poem in Wikipedia and found out plenty of other factoids of no great importance (although I was fascinated that X the Owl and Henrietta Pussycat were inspired by the poem).

Really, any information is a factoid as the poem is nonsense. Good for a laugh, and a great companion to “Jabberwocky”. But, it is also a poem that gets under the skin. Once read, it seems to pop up in the most surprising places. Certain images linger. In many ways, it becomes a classic because of connections with events in my life.

Yet, why is it a classic? Is that enough? When I looked up the text to cut into this blog, it was listed over and over again as a nursery rhyme. Yet, I think of it in a different category (like “Jabberwocky”). What, I ask, is a classic? What makes something “serious” literature and another suitable for children?

A good discussion set up by a very approachable poem.

The Owl and the Pussycat
Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
“0 lovely Pussy, 0 Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!”

Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried,
But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Ah, another “Dead Poets Society” poem. Poor Knox.

Recently, I went away for my eleventh anniversary and found Leslie Pockell’s collection “The 100 Bet Love Poems of All Time“. To be honest, I am not a huge poetry fan; I enjoy the analysis and poetry as a jumping off point for larger discussions, but I cannot sit and read poems and find the same enjoyment I might get from reading the back of a shampoo bottle. My wife, though, loves the stuff.

So, there we were in the Bear Pond Books outlet in Stowe, and I stood in front of the poetry shelf (singular) and thought this collection would be fun to read out loud at times during our weekend away from the kids.

Except, it is really packed with a bunch of great poems.

I was expecting, well, Lord Byron and a jumble of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Not so. They are not cheeky or clever, but just good. There is little you have not read or heard before, but as a collection it is just a nice assemblage. I am going to use it quite a bit in the next few weeks. It is available on Google Books and ebooks and a zillion other platforms, but give Ms. Pockell and your local bookstore some support and buy it. It won’t just sit on your classroom shelf.

That said, show the cover to your students. LOVE POEMS! Students who hate poetry really, really hate love poems. Pick well. And push them on the idea of love (vs. lust). Do they not love? Lust? Have them dump the tripe and touch that moment where the self falls away.

As for this poem. Rhyme? Check. Simile? Check. Imagery? Check.

Discuss.

She Walks in Beauty
George Gordon Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

When I was a child and went to Sunday School my father had a picture hanging on the wall called “Laughing Jesus”. It is a head shot. Jesus is in the rain, and I’m not sure why he’s laughing, but he’s laughing his head off with pure joy. Although my father probably explained the inspiration for the picture, I always assumed it was a joy of nature and God’s magnificence.

No longer a church goer, and not even sure if I’m still a Christian, that image–and the larger idea of Jesus = Love–keeps me open to the comfort and guidance the Christian church offers even as too many of its followers preach hatred and spend their energies dividing us.

“Goodtime Jesus” reminds me of that picture. It may seem sacrilegious to some (it was declared as much when it was published in my U Mass alumni magazine alongside an article on Tate, who is a professor there), but what also struck me in Sunday School was that Jesus had a mortal side. He is the son of God, but also the son of Mary. Anyone who enjoys a good cup of coffee has to be worth listening to. I find this Jesus very inspiring.

Of course, a public school teacher might be hesitant to present this to his or her students. I have not, but I do present more classical religious works. Much of literature has religious underpinnings if not outright praise or criticism. But, it being All Saint’s Day, I wanted to offer it up.

Notice how it does not follow several poetry conventions. It is a story and in paragraph form. Is it a poem? What defines it as such? Heck, it doesn’t even rhyme!

Is this praise? A celebration? How is Jesus portrayed, and what is Tate trying to say? Does this presentation differ from that normally presented? How does Tate fit in with literary presentations of Jesus?

Enjoy!

Goodtime Jesus
James Tate

Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He had been dreaming so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it?  A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around him, eyes rolled back, skin falling off. But he wasn’t afraid of that. It was a beautiful day. How ’bout some coffee? Don’t mind if I do. Take a little ride on my donkey, I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.

I enjoy William Carlos Williams because he exposes those who do not, cannot or will not go beyond the “plot” of the poem.

“What is this poem about?” I ask.

“A guy who ate someone’s plums.” I hear.

“That’s it?” I ask. “Why did he write it?”

Silence.

“Why is this one of the most famous poems of American literature?”

Silence.

And so on. We talk about guilt and remorse, but most students also feel that the speaker would easily do it again (so, s/he’s not really sorry). It’s a poem to go deep with. There is no hiding. Because nothing happens its sounds stupid to say “It’s just about some plums” because it is clear that SOMETHING more has to be happening.

Ironically, as an Imagist, the plums and the poets uncertainty about having remorse might be it. As someone who loves symbolism, I still don’t believe some of the Garden of Eden interpretations I’ve read.

This is a also a nice poem for discussing voice on two levels.

First, some of your students will notice that the speaker does not really seem remorseful. As I’ve said, most of the class believes he would do it again. How does Williams convey that while the WORDS say something else? Now, that’s good writing.

Second, is the speaker a man or a woman? Offer the poem without the poet’s name and ask. Then, give them Williams’ name and ask. Then point out that the speaker and the poet are often different people (don’t assume). Can a boy write a poem from a girl’s perspective (try it!). Does that mean he’s a girl (answer: No.). Finally, speak about the universal nature of great literature, as opposed to the navel gazing private language most middle schoolers write in. The poet and voice are different.

This is Just to Say
William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

 

There are several ways to read or introduce a poem to students, but I have found that popcorn style is one that gets many students involved.

The rules are simple.  Each student in the class has access to the poem: It’s in a book they all have, on the board, or projected.  You announce that you want it read “popcorn style” and simply say “Begin.”  Students just start reading it out loud.  When one is done reading what he or she wants to read, someone picks up from the next word.  Or not.  At times you will find a long gap (don’t fill it!).  Then, two or three voices will jump in at once and someone will yield.

Does “organic” sound too twee?

Of coure, the first time you do it you need to tell them the rules of the game.  You also might need to refine it.  Some teachers limit the number of lines, while, with some classes, I need to ask students to read AT LEAST a line (I have some jokers who read a word, and stop).  A discussion of limiting is a good one for classroom culture.  How often can someone participate, and what is keeping others from jumping in?

I have found that many students who do not like to read, do not like poetry, struggle with everyday reading… they like to jump in and try a line.  I get a diverse readership; not just the usual suspects.

When the students are done, I will often repeat the entire poem again for the dramatic effect.  Sometimes I will refrain from this, and instead talk about the poem with the kids.  In these cases, I save my repeat for when they are stuck and out of ideas.

Try it.  It will be weird at first, but then you’ll be using it for passages and other readings that need a bit of life blown into them.

This poem is not art, but it makes an important point. It will also be easy for students to understand

I was inspired to add this poem in response to a parent group’s approach to the local school board. Concerned about low test scores (a very legitimate concern) they are focused on AP courses and students not only getting into college (the high school has over 80% of graduates going to college), but the college of their choice. If the elephant is the supervisory union’s K-12 school system–and the experience of students over that time–this group is focused on the tail. If a student is not already working at a high level junior year, and possessing skills such as reading and writing, it makes more sense to look at the K-8 education than point fingers at their last years in school. The group’s leader is a consultant in getting teens into college, so she has an obvious blind spot.

There are three natural lessons that I will explain.

First, have students imagine what each of the six blind men sees. They can draw a picture. You can then find several websites that have illustrations to go with Saxe’s poem. An easy poem, it teaches a skill that can be carried over to other poems.

Second, this poem can be used for self reflection. Has there been a time where you saw things one way, and someone else could not see your point of view? Think about what you want, and what your parents will let you do. Fights with friends? Teacher gives good advice but you do what you do and fail? Point out that disagreement does not necessarily mean that both sides don’t see the whole picture. Parents may see their child’s point, but still not give them their way. Because of that, this reflection has a certain amount of subtlety. But adolescent ideas that other people have different perspectives is changing as their brains change: we call it maturity.

Third, this story has a long history before Saxe wrote this poem. A lesson on India would be enhanced by comparing the Hindu, Buddhist, Jain, etc. tellings of this story. The Wikipedia version is here.

The Blind Man and the Elephant
John Godfrey Saxe

It was six men of Hindustan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind)
That each by observation
Might satisfy the mind.

The first approached the Elephant
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side
At once began to bawl:
“Bless me, it seems the Elephant
Is very like a wall”.

The second, feeling of his tusk,
Cried, “Ho! What have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me ’tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear”.

The third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Then boldly up and spake:
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a snake.”

The Fourth reached out an eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
“What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain,” quoth he;
“‘Tis clear enough the Elephant
Is very like a tree!”

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: “E’en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!”

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a rope!”

And so these men of Hindustan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right
And all were in the wrong.

So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

I just saw this on a Levi’s advert, which means the time to strike is now if you want to use this poem (and seem hip). Of course, it’s still valid tomorrow, as it was one hundred or so years ago. Ah, Walt….

The ad uses Walt Whitman’s own reading, preserved on an old wax cylinder. You can hear/use the same recording here He sounds like the woolly toothed madman described in “The Dead Poets Society”. Play it. Your kids will get a kick out of it.

The most obvious use of this poem is with a cross-curriculum Social Studies exploration of what America is all about. Are THEY in the poem? Is anyone NOT in it? What is Whitman’s vision of America? If you want to go into biographical criticism, would Whitman be considered part of America today (for example, he’s gay, but also a nurse in the war).

There are other Whitman poetry samples, such as “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”, and “America” is longer and quite good. I simply snatched the bit he recorded. I like Ginesburg’s “America”, too, but that’s a bit mature for middle school (you be the judge, but I suggest permission slips and a talk with your administration). Ginesburg’s “In a Supermarket in California” is to Whitman, just as “America” is a sort-of homage. Heck the whole book HOWL is dedicated to him.

Have them write their own poems. Or, use other Whitman poems to paint a collage of Whitman’s America. Have them read it like Whitman does. Can they pull of his gravity? He can be a bit long, but in choppy bits he is America’s greatest.

America
Walt Whitman

Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear’d, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair’d in the adamant of Time.

Another of the three poems recommended in this month’s “NEA Today” as the three books/poems that every graduate should read (the other two by the suggester are “If” and “The Road Not Taken”).

This is a great poem to use with students about what they want, why they are in school, and to generally get them to buy into the whole “school” idea. Once they define “success”, have them work out exactly what it looks like, and what they need to do to achieve it. For classroom management, I always ask them if they are “happy”, and then work towards solutions to making it so. This does this, writ large.

What is Success
Ralph Waldo Emerson

To laugh often and love much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the approval of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To give of one’s self;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition;
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived…
This is to have succeeded.

I only know “If” as the title of a British teen counter-culture movie where the students wind up killing everyone. It is also a poem. It was listed in this month’s “NEA Today” magazine as one of three books/poems that every graduate should read.

Having not taught it myself, I think any middle school student will get it. Inspired by it? No. Still, I think it might offer a nice discussion about their ideals and who they are as people. That makes for a pretty strong poem.

This can also be used to teach British culture, along with other Kipling classics. It could make a nice “Poetry Out Loud” poem, or something to read at graduation. Hokey, I know, but it makes for a nice bookmark as part of a student recognition piece.

If
Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!