writewrite

Everytime I read this I crack up. The best dumb joke of the month,
from Spring:

What’s brown and sticky?

…

A STICK!

An interesting column by Robert Weisbuch, president of Drew University, appeared today in the Chronicle of Higher Education on collaboration between higher education and K-12. LINK

The ideas here are big, yet specific enough that this seems like a challenge, a kind of educational call to arms. Or perhaps, to lay down arms and join forces. I especially was taken by one comment:

The late and superbly playful poet Kenneth Koch argued that children love poetry, that the babe bouncing on the parent’s knee is a rhyme-and-rhythm fan from the start. An appreciation for poetry depends, he said, on unlearning whatever made it seem other than a natural pleasure, based on the pulsing of the blood. It’s that way with all creative and analytic mental activity.

There it is: poetry again. Weisbuch, to his credit, doesn’t specify how poetry should be brought to children; that, he says, is where those of us in higher education must turn to the teachers in the schools, and in that gesture bridge the gap between the so-called Ivory Tower and K-12 and create what he calls a “third culture” in education:

If that third culture is to develop, college faculty members might stop coming on to their school counterparts like gods delivering grace to undeserving sinners. We need to acknowledge that a strong teacher in the schools knows a great deal more about pedagogy than we do.

And so they do. I learned a great deal from my friend Natalie last year; I miss going to her classroom this year. And I miss the weirdly brilliant second graders. If any third culture — and I believe in these things — is going to happen, it needs to start somewhere. A second grade classroom? Why not. Next year, Natalie. The heck with the tests.

I can’t help it. Even though I like you and your ideas a great deal, and think you are a far better choice than Hillary, I’d like you to just go one step further and make your nouns agree with your verbs on even the most subtle level. Can I urge you to do that? I can. Read on.

You said this in a recent debate:

“I’m going to do things differently,” you said. “We can have great plans, but if we don’t change how the politics is working in Washington, then neither of our plans are going to happen.”

First: “how the politics is working” — I suppose I will buy into the idea that “politics” is a singular noun. In Washington, I imagine it is. If I were really annoying, I’d quibble with the article preceding the noun. However, its presence seems necessary to the establishment of the singular nature of “politics.” We’ll let this stand.

This, however, must change: “neither of our plans are going to happen.” That’s just not quite up to par, Mr. O. Take that little phrase apart. “Neither [one] of our plans” — this is what you are REALLY saying. Neither implies the one; one is the noun; one is singular. So therefore, you should say: “Neither of our plans IS going to happen.” There’s also a subtlety there which underscores your point: one plan or the other is going to happen. Yours or Hillary’s. If you say “are” there’s an implication that both plans will become reality.

Uh uh. We want yours. So say “is.”

Thank you,
Your supporter

I really like dumb jokes. The kind kids tell … over and over and over. Like:

Where are the Andes?

At the end of your armies.

OR

What’s long and green and always points north?

A Magnetic Cucumber.

OR

What’s red and goes SLAM SLAM, SLAM SLAM

A four-door tomato.

Or this one, a personal favorite:

What do you call a cow with no legs?

Ground Beef

Okay, now add your jokes…

So, this week we were to write some poetry as we do every week, and the advice I got from Mary Fell, our instructor, was to let the images lead me. I know what she means, and it’s the same damn thing I tell my nonfiction students, but I’ve been resolutely not doing it in poetry. Poetry, my friends, is scary. To me it is. If I let a poem lead me? Holy nouns and verbs Batman, stand back.

However. I’m here to tell you I did let a poem lead me, yes I did. And the little puppy that emerged, a Great Dane really, is not going to be read by anyone, not until I go into the witness protection program, change my name, and become a red headed waitress in Nevada (no, that’s fiction, I’m not blowing my cover. Go look for me there and I won’t be there.). Poetry is powerful stuff. Woo.

Here’s one I like, however, which was also part of our assignment — to find a poem we adore and figure it out.

Blessing
James Wright

Just off the Highway to Rochester, Minnesota
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

*****

Try this, it’s fun:
LINK

In the dark early morning, ice everywhere — trees, power lines, grass, sidewalk. Out before light and Owen can’t see squirrels. It’s safe to walk.

A nine a.m. meeting. Ideas on the table. Mine gets chosen and I am bouyant about it all damn day.

Afternoon on the horse. He is antsy, edgy, nuts with winter boredom and I know, more than anything, he wants to gallop around and buck and snort and fart (it’s a horse thing). But he does exactly what I ask of him, and our ride is calm, steady, and by the time we are done, so is he and so am I.

Fetch with Owen on the winter grass. He wants to run and run and run. I keep checking his feet to be sure he’s not getting cut by the ice. Then, there it is, blood between the toes on all four feet. I hold onto the ball. “Time to quit, Owen.” Disappointment in a dog registers in the entire body. He trots, slowly, his little body loose and sad, back to the barn.

In the evening, I talk to my sister on the phone. She is baking. This is our conversation:

“What are you baking?”
“Cookies.”
“Don’t know you that you can buy those in the store?” My sister laughs. Sort of. I press on: “Why are you baking cookies?”
“Because,” she says, “we have a dishwasher.”

It is really clear to me that I do not, and will never, understand baking, not at all.

The yellow cat, who will be nine tomorrow, has his head inside a bag, considering the possibility of unraveling the scarf I am knitting. A pile of student papers sits, graded, on my desk. My face is hot from windburn. Owen is asking to go out, one more time. The squirrels will be invisible again. It is the end of the day.

Late on a school day
snow & rain & ice outside
now — they send us home

Here’s the forecast for today and tomorrow…

Wayne County
Wind chill advisory remains in effect until 9 am est this morning, winter storm warning remains in effect from 7 pm this evening to 7 pm est Tuesday. The combination of very cold temperatures and winds will produce wind chill values as cold as 10 to 15 below zero through mid morning. Snow will develop across the area tonight. The snow will become mixed with sleet and freezing rain on Tuesday morning, changing back to snow during Tuesday afternoon. Total snow and sleet accumulations of 4 to 8 inches will be possible through tuesday, with ice accumulation less than one tenth of an inch.

Oh, for a snow day. Just one little snow day…

INGREDIENTS
Radio interview, 8:50 a.m.
Presentation, noon. Oh, by the way? Sixty people are coming. Sorry we didn’t tell you that earlier.
Student papers.
Class preparation.
Annual report.
One bad cold.

Stir, blending all ingredients thoroughly. Endure for 12 hours. Go to bed. Get up and blow nose hourly. Begin next day.

Kleenex not optional.