I think this is a put-on. Whether yes or no, effin' hilarious.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The not-writing beast comes back to haunt.
Today before class, I saw Colleague C, who co-directs a writing program for our faculty. (It's a fairly unique program for a two-year college, in that its purpose is to encourage faculty writing and research through grants and mini-grants. Two-years are teaching-centric, of course, and the teaching load wears out a body, so it's heartening to see such a program in place. Full disclosure: I received one of said mini-grants in '06 and received course load reduction; it was awfully nice.)
But we were standing there in the library atrium, trading pleasantries, and CC asked me the question that's become the bane of my existence (the albatross around my neck?): "How's the writing going?" And I wasn't bothered that he asked me, because the last time we crossed paths, I was probably writing. But I had to be honest: "It's not." Which triggered anew feelings not unlike those in this post.
CC has a novel to his credit and has just closed the deal on his second novel, which'll be out at the end of the year. I don't begrudge him that one iota. Novels are hard as hell for this ol' boy, let alone short stories, so I tip my hat to anyone who can submerge themselves for that long. But then, he theorized it might be the last novel he has in him, because he's so wiped out from the "non-writing" parts of the process--by which I suppose he means editing, rewriting, proofing.
And I immediately remembered what I hate most about writing: the "non-writing" parts. The submissions, the stamps, the incessant waiting. And for what?
Just to be writing poems should be its own reward, and it has been before. But I dunno--I fear I've been away from it for so long that I won't be able to find that groove again. And all the time, I question how interested I really am in poetry anymore, whether I'm not writing in a niche for a niche audience.
I keep thinking of the Rilke line (is it from Letters to a Young Poet?) which advises the poet to look deep inside his heart and ask whether he must write--and I can't say that I must write, at least not right now. And it bugs the shit out of me, and I seem unwilling to do anything about it--other than bitch about how bad a person I am for neglecting my obligation.
But we were standing there in the library atrium, trading pleasantries, and CC asked me the question that's become the bane of my existence (the albatross around my neck?): "How's the writing going?" And I wasn't bothered that he asked me, because the last time we crossed paths, I was probably writing. But I had to be honest: "It's not." Which triggered anew feelings not unlike those in this post.
CC has a novel to his credit and has just closed the deal on his second novel, which'll be out at the end of the year. I don't begrudge him that one iota. Novels are hard as hell for this ol' boy, let alone short stories, so I tip my hat to anyone who can submerge themselves for that long. But then, he theorized it might be the last novel he has in him, because he's so wiped out from the "non-writing" parts of the process--by which I suppose he means editing, rewriting, proofing.
And I immediately remembered what I hate most about writing: the "non-writing" parts. The submissions, the stamps, the incessant waiting. And for what?
Just to be writing poems should be its own reward, and it has been before. But I dunno--I fear I've been away from it for so long that I won't be able to find that groove again. And all the time, I question how interested I really am in poetry anymore, whether I'm not writing in a niche for a niche audience.
I keep thinking of the Rilke line (is it from Letters to a Young Poet?) which advises the poet to look deep inside his heart and ask whether he must write--and I can't say that I must write, at least not right now. And it bugs the shit out of me, and I seem unwilling to do anything about it--other than bitch about how bad a person I am for neglecting my obligation.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
"The New Poem," by Charles Wright.
Wright lived for much of his childhood in my hometown, so I'm naturally a big fan. His best work is not normally this declamatory, but he does declamatory well. For me, this is a powerful rebuff to Hallmark-sappy poems.
***
It will not resemble the sea.
It will not have dirt on its thick hands.
It will not be part of the weather.
It will not reveal its name.
It will not have dreams you can count on.
It will not be photogenic.
It will not attend our sorrow.
It will not console our children.
It will not be able to help us.
***
It will not resemble the sea.
It will not have dirt on its thick hands.
It will not be part of the weather.
It will not reveal its name.
It will not have dreams you can count on.
It will not be photogenic.
It will not attend our sorrow.
It will not console our children.
It will not be able to help us.
Progress/regress report: summer term, week 1.
Actually, it's too early for much regress, but I full-on expect it next week--when the first batch of essays rolls in. (Or maybe it's stasis.) So far, both classes are fine; Comp I has 9 students, and they're very quiet so far. Or, they're not quiet exactly, but they aren't interacting. That will change tomorrow, if only for an hour, when they bring drafts for peer workshop. I hate to force camaraderie when the vibe isn't there, but by god, they will interact.
They seem like diligent little worker bees, and they're mostly paying attention, I think. But they're dry; not much energy flowing yet. I see a nasty trend starting, of getting to class right at the beginning or a few minutes late; can't do much when two people are on time. Even though it's in the syllabus, I better have a word with them tomorrow. Technically, I can't say much if they arrive within the first ten minutes, because I give them that much in the syllabus, but some folks are stretching it already.
Comp II, by contrast, is shaping up to be fairly lively, though I've had plenty of lively Comp II's before. For the first few classes, everything couldn't be better as long as we're talking. Then, when they sit down to write their essays and realize yep, this class requires work too, the ol' doldrums set in. In discussion, though, they seem open, curious--they're participating and seem properly sober about poetry. I made a mistake in assigning Jane Hirshfield's "The Lives of the Heart"--it's brilliant but daunting, and it requires big imaginative leaps. If you're not used to doing that, then of course it's gonna be a long slog. In contrast, though, they did just fine with "A Time Past" by Levertov.
When it comes to Comp II essays, though. they often do better with short poems than with 9- to 10-page short stories. Something about the stories invites plot summary and not analysis--maybe their length? Student panic/laziness? So far, I've been emphasizing the need to have a "lens" through which to write about (and talk about) a poem, whether that's metaphor, diction, connotation, imagery, or any of a thousand others. Here's hoping.
And this is the summer of the international student: I estimate 90% of my 25 or so students in both classes are from outside the U.S. Funny thing is, a good many of them will write better essays than my native English speakers.
They seem like diligent little worker bees, and they're mostly paying attention, I think. But they're dry; not much energy flowing yet. I see a nasty trend starting, of getting to class right at the beginning or a few minutes late; can't do much when two people are on time. Even though it's in the syllabus, I better have a word with them tomorrow. Technically, I can't say much if they arrive within the first ten minutes, because I give them that much in the syllabus, but some folks are stretching it already.
Comp II, by contrast, is shaping up to be fairly lively, though I've had plenty of lively Comp II's before. For the first few classes, everything couldn't be better as long as we're talking. Then, when they sit down to write their essays and realize yep, this class requires work too, the ol' doldrums set in. In discussion, though, they seem open, curious--they're participating and seem properly sober about poetry. I made a mistake in assigning Jane Hirshfield's "The Lives of the Heart"--it's brilliant but daunting, and it requires big imaginative leaps. If you're not used to doing that, then of course it's gonna be a long slog. In contrast, though, they did just fine with "A Time Past" by Levertov.
When it comes to Comp II essays, though. they often do better with short poems than with 9- to 10-page short stories. Something about the stories invites plot summary and not analysis--maybe their length? Student panic/laziness? So far, I've been emphasizing the need to have a "lens" through which to write about (and talk about) a poem, whether that's metaphor, diction, connotation, imagery, or any of a thousand others. Here's hoping.
And this is the summer of the international student: I estimate 90% of my 25 or so students in both classes are from outside the U.S. Funny thing is, a good many of them will write better essays than my native English speakers.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Free(d) Willie.
I'm still surprised and wanly amused at how the Mets let go Willie Randolph. I'm not surprised they did it, just how awkward and unprofessional they were about it. Randolph strikes me as a good manager, and I surmise he won't be unemployed for long. 2-3 years ago, he had the Mets on the right path, as the official line went, and now he can't catch a break. He gets fired after the Mets win three of their last four?
That Mets management sounds like a hot tranny mess, in any case. Buster Olney seems to have the right indignant attitude. Funny thing is, I don't think they're out of it yet. The Tigers seem to have turned themselves around after being lambasted for under-performing, and I bet the Mets follow suit.
As for the Braves...just when I'm ready to write them off, they also win three of their last four. With their 5000 injuries, they should by all rights be playing like the middling team their lineup suggests they are. The starting staff seems to be Tim Hudson and whoever else wants the ball. Jurrjens and Reyes have had their moments, though. Looks like the hitting has come around the last few nights, too.
I realize, in writing this, why I could never be a pundit for a living. That's too much reading. But I will go out on this limb: Chipper will not be able to maintain .400. His body (read: his "strained" quad, his knees) isn't gonna cooperate.
That Mets management sounds like a hot tranny mess, in any case. Buster Olney seems to have the right indignant attitude. Funny thing is, I don't think they're out of it yet. The Tigers seem to have turned themselves around after being lambasted for under-performing, and I bet the Mets follow suit.
As for the Braves...just when I'm ready to write them off, they also win three of their last four. With their 5000 injuries, they should by all rights be playing like the middling team their lineup suggests they are. The starting staff seems to be Tim Hudson and whoever else wants the ball. Jurrjens and Reyes have had their moments, though. Looks like the hitting has come around the last few nights, too.
I realize, in writing this, why I could never be a pundit for a living. That's too much reading. But I will go out on this limb: Chipper will not be able to maintain .400. His body (read: his "strained" quad, his knees) isn't gonna cooperate.
A burrito, a sick dog, and four hours of sleep.
At the moment, the song is "She May be White (But She be Funky)" by Howard Tate. Yep, that title says it all: not one of the soul legend's, um, better offerings. It's from his not-long-ago comeback CD Rediscovered, and it's kinda forced, sadly. I love the guy's voice but the backup doesn't do him proud--except for the last cut, a re-do of "Get It While You Can" which works just fine with piano only.
A burrito: first excursion to Chipotle Mexican Grill tonight, and it won't be the last. It's a fast-food/fresh Mexican stuffed-burrito place along the lines of Moe's, but 1000 times fresher and more flavorful. Yum, I say!
A sick dog: one of our critters has had some diarrhea problems (inside the house, unfortunately) but I think she's through the worst of it. Last night, and through the night, she had to go outside every hour or two, and she paced and got up/down all night long. She ate no breakfast and slunk back up the stairs, but she ate some dinner tonight after much prodding from me. So I take that as progress.
Now I think she's just worn out, because she hasn't moved from the living room in a couple of hours. But she also hasn't been jumping to go outside, so maybe the stomach's calmed down. I have some cooked white rice and cut-up carrots ready to go, and I'll try to slip her a little bit before the night is through.
Four hours of sleep: see above.
A burrito: first excursion to Chipotle Mexican Grill tonight, and it won't be the last. It's a fast-food/fresh Mexican stuffed-burrito place along the lines of Moe's, but 1000 times fresher and more flavorful. Yum, I say!
A sick dog: one of our critters has had some diarrhea problems (inside the house, unfortunately) but I think she's through the worst of it. Last night, and through the night, she had to go outside every hour or two, and she paced and got up/down all night long. She ate no breakfast and slunk back up the stairs, but she ate some dinner tonight after much prodding from me. So I take that as progress.
Now I think she's just worn out, because she hasn't moved from the living room in a couple of hours. But she also hasn't been jumping to go outside, so maybe the stomach's calmed down. I have some cooked white rice and cut-up carrots ready to go, and I'll try to slip her a little bit before the night is through.
Four hours of sleep: see above.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
A poem to jolt you awake, from Gregory Orr.
I want to go back
To the beginning.
We all do.
I think:
Hurt won't be there.
But I'm wrong.
Where the water
Bubbles up
At the spring:
Isn't that a wound?
To the beginning.
We all do.
I think:
Hurt won't be there.
But I'm wrong.
Where the water
Bubbles up
At the spring:
Isn't that a wound?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
It could be worse, it could be better.
The word came down a few minutes ago: my American Lit. course got axed, and in its place, I now have a Comp II. So that's one Comp I and one Comp II--eek. But they're back to back, I've taught them both 500 zillion times, and I've had overall good luck with summer students. As well, Comp I will be small; 9 students now. (23 so far in Comp II, so an average of 15-16; in terms of grading, not bad.) I think our dean and department chair had mercy on me by letting that one make, but I'll take it.
So it's to school tomorrow to cobble together a C II syllabus and print the C I syllabus, plus gather some prelim. materials, and gather my rosebuds while I may.
My baseball-writing stuff is about done and ready to send. I think I'm on the right track tonally and informationally, but we'll see. I will say that writing capsule reviews of all these tasty Atl. restaurants makes me want something other than stew for dinner. :)
Now, away from this computer for the rest of the night.
So it's to school tomorrow to cobble together a C II syllabus and print the C I syllabus, plus gather some prelim. materials, and gather my rosebuds while I may.
My baseball-writing stuff is about done and ready to send. I think I'm on the right track tonally and informationally, but we'll see. I will say that writing capsule reviews of all these tasty Atl. restaurants makes me want something other than stew for dinner. :)
Now, away from this computer for the rest of the night.
Monday, June 9, 2008
College is not for everyone.
For those of you in the teaching world, this article has garnered a good deal of attention. If you haven't read it already, it's a real eye-opener and a sadly true indictment. I appreciate it for its frank opinion, but I also like how Professor X counts himself in the same situation as his students; he avoids the usual snark. And it's also perhaps a sad indicator that he has to use an alias.
As a former idealist, I have come almost full circle in a few years of two-year college teaching (about 10, all told): the best thing that can happen to some students is to fail a course or two, or be put on academic probation. I can't begin to tell you of the utter inability I saw this spring--not always lack of motivation, just inability.
But I can type my complaints and be satisfied, or I can do something like I'm doing this fall, which is teach our college success course--how to study more efficiently, determine a major, get to know your teachers, figure out your course of study, et al. So I'm still an idealist, in some sense.
I don't think motivation alone can guarantee a shining GPA, but with some, it's amazing how sheer tenacity can mean the difference between passing and failing. This article, to me, focuses on ability more than motivation, and I've always wondered how you determine the difference between the two, especially for a first-generation college student or someone who's back after a few semesters out--the "at-risk" group.
As a former idealist, I have come almost full circle in a few years of two-year college teaching (about 10, all told): the best thing that can happen to some students is to fail a course or two, or be put on academic probation. I can't begin to tell you of the utter inability I saw this spring--not always lack of motivation, just inability.
But I can type my complaints and be satisfied, or I can do something like I'm doing this fall, which is teach our college success course--how to study more efficiently, determine a major, get to know your teachers, figure out your course of study, et al. So I'm still an idealist, in some sense.
I don't think motivation alone can guarantee a shining GPA, but with some, it's amazing how sheer tenacity can mean the difference between passing and failing. This article, to me, focuses on ability more than motivation, and I've always wondered how you determine the difference between the two, especially for a first-generation college student or someone who's back after a few semesters out--the "at-risk" group.
The third time most likely won't be a charm.
I have a stunningly unmotivated student who has taken me twice the last two semesters for basic comp; each time he has failed, his final grade this spring being lower than his score last fall. He has signed up to take me again this fall for the same course.
I'm not really sure why, other than he knows my style and presumably knows what to expect. But I just can't see what he's going to get from me the third time that I haven't already offered the first two times. He isn't without ability, but his time management and motivation are poor, and his writing skills just don't cut it. And he's as much admitted to my colleague (who failed him in a college success course) that he doesn't want to work all that hard in college.
He seems to have his "eyes on the prize" but not on the work it's going to take for him to read and write at even a rudimentary college level. His placement scores were low; he's been plotzing along part-time in learning support courses since last fall and has not passed a single one yet, math or English. This fall is the first time he'll take reading, from what I can tell.
In the GA public college system, there's a three-strikes rule; if he doesn't make at least a C in basic comp next time, he will be banned from attending for three years. I know that seems harsh, but it's the rule.
I'm half tempted to contact him and urge him to sign up for another section of basic comp. Maybe he would benefit from another instructor's presence and skills; maybe he would find the motivation he needs. Or, more likely, he will continue his unsuccessful ways. Unless someone rips him a new one before this fall, I just can't see that much will change. As well, I'm also tempted to urge him to drop out for a semester or year, make some money, come back when the time is right.
What would y'all do, faced with this scenario? Am I just trying to pass him off to someone else?
I'm not really sure why, other than he knows my style and presumably knows what to expect. But I just can't see what he's going to get from me the third time that I haven't already offered the first two times. He isn't without ability, but his time management and motivation are poor, and his writing skills just don't cut it. And he's as much admitted to my colleague (who failed him in a college success course) that he doesn't want to work all that hard in college.
He seems to have his "eyes on the prize" but not on the work it's going to take for him to read and write at even a rudimentary college level. His placement scores were low; he's been plotzing along part-time in learning support courses since last fall and has not passed a single one yet, math or English. This fall is the first time he'll take reading, from what I can tell.
In the GA public college system, there's a three-strikes rule; if he doesn't make at least a C in basic comp next time, he will be banned from attending for three years. I know that seems harsh, but it's the rule.
I'm half tempted to contact him and urge him to sign up for another section of basic comp. Maybe he would benefit from another instructor's presence and skills; maybe he would find the motivation he needs. Or, more likely, he will continue his unsuccessful ways. Unless someone rips him a new one before this fall, I just can't see that much will change. As well, I'm also tempted to urge him to drop out for a semester or year, make some money, come back when the time is right.
What would y'all do, faced with this scenario? Am I just trying to pass him off to someone else?
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