Cowboy Poems (10/5/7)

Posted by Mr. B. & Crew

Being the urban teenagers we are, none of us is likely to choose to write a cowboy poem, and so writing one becomes a good exercise in the craft of poetry. Instead of focusing on pouring our hearts onto the page, we focus on writing an effective poem that meets the criteria of the genre. The exercise has produced award-winning poetry and un-awarded poetry that's pretty dang good.

For our purposes, a cowboy poem is a rhyming poem of fewer than 36 lines with consistent meter that uses appropriate cowboy lexicon and demonstrates respect for and knowledge of the values and traditions of the American West.

Only William C. accepted the challenge to work through the process of seeking feedback and revising in response to the feedback during the week leading up to the deadline for the Red Steagall Youth Poetry Contest. On Friday, October 5, Mr. B. read alound William's first, second, and third drafts, and the class discussed each. When the third draft was read, there was almost a spontaneous standing O and remarks like, "Wow! That's not even the same poem!" Mr. B. reminded us that the art of writing is the art of rewriting, probably quoting someone he doesn't remember.

Here are four versions of Will's poem (not including any unsubmitted handwritten attempts):

1. First typed draft

Enigma Cowboy (or William C.'c Cowboy Thingy) (9/30/7)

Where have all those cowhands gone,
those men with the calloused hands,
the fellas who tend the cattle,
and live in our native lands.
Those stubborn ol' cowboys,
always set in their ways,
keepin' to their sacred code,
every night and every day.
That loyal tough ol' bunch,
always starin' into that big blue sky,
minds hard at work,
their bodies tough and tried.
Those folk who live their lives,
always ridin' free,
those proud boys and girls,
who live in you and me.

2. First Revision, Second Draft

Second Draft of Untitled Cowboy Thing (10/2/7)

Where have all those cowhands gone,
those men with the calloused hands,
the ruffians who tend to the cattle,
and live in our native lands.

Those stubborn ol' righteous cowboys,
always set in their mulish ways,
keepin' to that sacred code,
every night and every day.

That devoted tough ol' bunch,
always starin' at that big blue sky,
their leathery bodies hard at work,
with minds tough and tried.

They lived on ranches and on the range,
taken care of their daily chores,
the hardest workin' bunch of men,
we hear about in hometown lore.

Now where have all them cowboys gone,
away from our minds and thoughts,
the roughnecks who must be remembered,
whether they have stayed or not.

The folks who live their lives,
always ridin' free,
those proud ol' men,
who live in you and me.

3. Third Draft, Second Revision (10/4/7)

The Lost Cowboy

Where have all those cowhands gone,
those men with the calloused hands,
the untamed souls who tend the cattle,
and thrive in our native lands.

Those stubborn ol' righteous cowboys,
all set in their mulish ways,
keepin' to their sacred code.
every night and every day.

That devoted tough ol' bunch,
with spurs that never die,
their leathery bodies hard at work,
with minds tough and tried.

They worked the ranches and rode the range,
with sweat runnin' down their side,
the hardest workin' lot of men,
their hearts swollen with pride.

Now where have all them cowboys gone,
away from the place they call home,
the vacant space they left behind,
where no longer cattle roam.

But maybe those folk who live their lives,
always ridin' so free,
will never be gone,
because they live inside of you and me.

4. And the final submission
Fourth Draft, Third Revision (10/5/7)

The Lost Cowboy

Where have all those cowhands gone,
those men with the calloused hands,
the untamed souls who tend the cattle,
and thrive in our native lands?

Those stubborn ol' righteous cowboys,
all set in their mulish ways,
keepin' to their sacred code.
every night and every day?

Where’s that devoted tough ol' bunch,
with spurs that never die,
their leathery bodies hard at work,
with minds tough and tried?

They worked the ranches and rode the range,
with sweat runnin' down their side,
the hardest workin' lot of men,
their hearts swollen with pride.

Now where have all them cowboys gone,
away from the place they called home,
the vacant space they left behind,
where the cattle no longer roam?

Maybe those folk who live their lives,
always ridin' so free,
never have been really gone,
but live inside you and me.

See the Resource Blog for the entries of John S. and Katie K. and Past Winners of the Red Steagall Cowboy Gathering Youth Poetry Contest, Elizabeth C., 2006 First Place, and Marissa H., 2004 Second Place.

Another Night at the Modern (9/26/7)

Posted by Ashlie S., Sarah W., Amanda L., Jasmine H.
Unposted by Cody D., Sloane F., Katie K., Amanda H.



On Wednesday night, September 26, a small group of students in the Language Arts Lab travelled to the Modern Art Museum in Fort Worth to see the Ron Mueck exhibit, followed by a movie and a lecture, that were part of a Film Noir event going on for a few months. [See Resource Blog "Learning Opportunity Announcement"]

The night's theme seemed to mirror a central theme we've been focusing on in class: choices. Looking at and examining Mueck's intricate, mind-blowing sculpture along with watching a detailed documentary about his methods brought to life all the steps that an artist takes to create such elaborate art. Mueck sketches and makes models of different poses - looking for the choice that best expresses the effect that he wants to have. Lots of hard and tedious work later, along with many important decisions in regards to how each detail will affect the viewer, we've got a sculpture.

A beautiful favorite piece in the exhibition was "Spooning Couple." With amazingly realistic qualitites, two people about a foot or two long, lie in bed next to each other - the the looks on
their faces tell you that they may as well be a great distance apart. Mueck made the choice to place them so that, and it's hard to notice this, the bodies aren't actually touching, in order to help portray that distance between them.

As Sarah W. reported, "The Ron Mueck exhibit, our first stop during the trip, was absolutely my favorite part. The exhibit features extraordinary lifelike sculptures made with exquisite craftsmanship by artist, Ron Mueck, the genius behind these incredible works of art. The first sculpture I saw was of Ron Mueck himself. It was just of his face and was at least 4 feet long. This is when I first began to distinguish the extreme details that make his work so profound. I could see the follicles of hair buried within his scalp. Each hair had its own place, and I could see the root from which the hair originated. I even recognized the distinct beard stubbles on his chin and slight imperfections that fall upon ordinary faces, such as wrinkles and red, tired eye lids. I was utterly amazed.

Next, I saw in the corner of the room, a naked, creepy man leaning up against the wall… another one of Mueck’s unique pieces, of course. He differed from the first piece I had seen. He had no hair on his body whatsoever, and was huge in size. However, there were still a vast amount of details in this complex piece. He had age spots atop his head and a very yellow, wrinkly body. His toenails were so perfectly defined, even bent and crooked. He looked up with his beady, daunting eyes, and I felt like he was about to stand up and walk away at any moment. It was so surreal.

In the middle of the exhibit lay a new born baby. She, of course, was not a real baby, but looked remarkably like one! She was still attached to her purple umbilical cord and had amniotic sac blood all over her body. Her eyes were peeled open slightly, as if gazing into her new world for the first time. The bizarre part about the piece is how incredibly huge she was (about as long as the room.) It seemed that all of Mueck’s pieces had this kind of peculiar trait. They were either enormous or very tiny in size. Either way, they were never the "normal" size, and that is what makes them stand out. I personally thought the newborn baby piece was rather gross, however, I also thought it was brilliantly captured and liked it for its artistic concept. Amanda H. thought it was gross too, but after getting past that, found things she liked about it.



What I liked most about the exhibit was that everyone in our group had opinions. Some concentrated on the expressions and creativity of the sculptures. Others were more technically focused on the detail oriented elements of the sculptures. Throughout the exhibit, I was always wondering how Mueck could have possibly achieved such levels of perfection and ingenuity. At the end of the exhibit, my questions were answered when we watched a documentary type video on how he made one of the sculptures. His techniques took long hours and many weeks to complete. I marveled at his techniques and the many steps it took him to complete such a compelling task. One little thing, such as painting on the glimmer of a toenail, took precise expertise and quite a bit of time.

The only thing I was disappointed about was that there were not more pieces displayed. I would love to see more of his pieces someday. Nevertheless, I would encourage everyone to attend the next trip and experience the awesomeness of his creations. I really enjoyed it, and I thank Mr. B for taking us to such a cool exhibit."

A break from the museum brought us to Kincaid's Grocery & Market, a small, informal restaurant boasting several awards for its amazing burgers. You really can't beat fantastic art followed by fantastic food. Unless maybe I found like $12,000 in my coat pocket afterwards. Or something. =]

Amanda L. described the Kincaid's experience this way:
"An old Texas diner, with a new new twist, on its tables red and white checkered tablecloths. [Ed: Did you go to a different Kincaid's from me? It's no diner; there are no tablecloths that I recall. Certainly not where I sat. And since when are red and white checkered tablecloths a new twist for an old diner? It's an old grocery store, still has the shelves where groceries were once displayed. The back counter where you order is still like the meat market counter it used to be.] Bottles of different kinds of hot sauce surrounding napkin holders. Randomly placed [Ed. At the Kincaid's where I ate the placement seemed very orderly to me.] with those there were some upside-down-rightside-up "Heinz Ketchup" bottles and salt/pepper shakers. Eating our foos Jasmine and I rejoiced in the glory of the best burgers we've had in a while [Ed. and the walls were covered with testimonials and awards celebrating the Best Burgers Anywhere Ever.] We took a picture outside the front window before we left. [Ed. And if someone (i.e. Katie) will get me a copy I will post it here.]


Anyway, we headed back to the museum to watch and discuss "Out of the Past", a black and white suspense film from 1947. This twisted, classic film noir movie displayed another set of deliberate and important decisions, including film location, lighting, and camera angles that intentionally make the viewer uncomfortable. Numerous vertical lines splinter the screen, along with the mind. All of these factors (and then some) contribute to the "feel" of the movie, the effect it has. It was interesting to go so deeply behind the final product of the movie itself, to pay attention to details and try to absorb everything that the film had to offer and to recognize that there were choices made by filmmakers who do everything for a reason.

The whole experience was very insightful. Seeing on a larger scale the same ideas we've been toying around with in class with descriptions of cardboard boxes, for example, was fun, and we got to learn outside of a classroom, which is always a positive thing.

(And, if an art museum can be so great, imagine what a place like Santa Fe has to offer, Mr. Benton :) :) nudge, nudge...)

Signing off (and longing for Kincaid's banana pudding),

Ashley S.

Description Exercise (9/26/7)

posted by Mr. B. and Crew

I stole this exercise from my son because I think it is an especially effective one. The idea is to write a description of something, adding no additional context or narrative element, in order to have an effect on the reader just with description. Thus, the choices the writer makes - language to use, details to include - are made with one effect in mind.

This starting point is no writing teacher's artifice. In his1846 essay "The Philosophy of Composition," Edgar Allan Poe writes that, when writing a story [i.e. a short story, not a generic term used in elementary school to uncritically identify virtually all writing and continued in later years at one's peril - Ed.], "I prefer commencing with the consideration of an effect. Keeping originality always in view... I say to myself, in the first place, 'Of the innumerable effects, or impressions, of which the heart, the intellect, or (more generally) the soul is susceptible, what one shall I, on the present occasion, select?'" (Heath Anthology of American Literature, Volume I, 1994, p. 1449)

In class, students were asked to select one of the effects listed below and write a description to create that effect in a reader. Then they repeated the exercise with a different effect in mind. After that, writers read their descriptions aloud and class members sought to identify the effect, citing evidence for their conclusions.

Now, you, too can share the Language Lab experience! Read the following descriptions of the same object(s) and identify which of the following effects the author was attempting to create. Then identify the evidence you used to draw your conclusion and explain why the author succeeded or failed in creating the effect in you. (Remember - the effect of a text is its impact on the reader; the author's own attitude toward his or her subject is called tone.)
Effects: anger, boredom, curiosity, despair, energy, [futility, grief, ] hope, [insouciance, jealousy,] loneliness.

1. A single shoe, separated from its counterpart and, therefore, from any possible purpose it might have served, rests all by itself atop a flat, out of place poetry book. A hollow, empty box beneath the book, at risk of falling off its support - a broken, incomplete podium - looks downward toward the floor as if it wants to fall if only to escape the useless exploitatioon it has been subjected to. - Ashley S.

2. A plain cardboard box perches atop a podium. It is pointed downward, but that only means it has nowhere to go but up. On top of the box, there lies a children's book, the story of the flight of a pig. Its pages are filled with possibility waiting to be soaked in by a willing reader, and on top of that sits a tiny red shoe as cute as its future or past wearer. Its bold red color draws attention to it, making it especially important to the whole of the assembled pieces. - Eunice O.

3. Plain ol' brown box on a broken podium. Recent issue of Poetry magazine dated this month. A small child's shoe. All stacked not too high off the ground but not too low either. - Maria J.

4. This awkward structure, comprised of a thin metal podium with a solitary box sitting crookedly on top, holds no actual purpose in life. On top of the box is a notebook, its cover curled towards the ceiling as if reaching for significance. And falling short in utter futility. And on top of that, like a last attempt at beauty or anything worth noting, the tiny red sneaker of an infant or a doll adorns the notebook its story never to be told, its bandoned project never to be whole. - Ann N.

5. What's up with this headless podium? Why does it sit alone on the floor by the white wall? Why do incompetent people keep adjusting its height and scratching the black paint off its stand? And that useless cardboard box lying tilted on top of it! Is this supposed to be art? What's the point of the book on the box apparently left there by supposed readers who don't care enough to keep its flimsy cover straight? And why put a single red shoe on top of a book? It all reminds me of the kind of parent who would let a toddler run around with one bare foot without even noticing. - Jessica J.

6. The object demands to be the center of attention. It's like a child at play time holding all his toys close so the other kids can't play with them, then holding them way over his head making everyone wonder how long he will stand there like that. He's a thin young fellow even with all his toys - a shoe, a jar of bugs, a book, and a box - clasped tightly in his small arms. His own mother couldn't tell who he is or what he's doing He can't play like that. She might propose that he put all his things inside the box, but he's already tilted to run off. And he will, too, if we take ouur eyes off him for a second. - Hannah B.

7. In the chilly classroom, students sit at their tables with friends, laughing and passing notes, making the best of their time in class together. Outside their circle stands a solitary black podium alone at the front of the room, head covered with raggedy cardboard and holding discarded junk items, unnoticed in student circles. It waits on the outside, waiting to become part of the conversation, waiting to be noticed, waiting to matter. Like a teacher. Waiting. - Raven L.

8. There's a single, black, tri-toed metal speaker's stand, standing. Sitting atop the stand is an empty cardboard box, having nothing, holding nothing, knowing nothing... except the broken black stand on which it sits, upside down, pouring out the entire contents of its soul. On the box is a thin volume of poetry with no audience, no one to pour its soul into. So many thoughts and ideas wrought into art, so precisely crafted, so artfully formed, and no one to see or hear or read. And on the book a shoe. One shoe, not a pair. Half of the whole with no sign of completion anytime soon. - Sloane F.

9. A bright red shoe with a little brown sole
On a thin white floppy book
On a small square box with shiny clear tape
On a tall black podium stand
With a missing top and a three-footed leg
On a carpet of motley blue
- Amanda L.

10. A lone shoe stands on top of a box which in turn rests on a high pedestal. It looks like a woman standing on a cliff waiting for her man to come home from the sea. Between box and shoe, a thin pad of paper rests looking as if it would slip to the ground if the shoe did not hold it in place. The shoe is facing sideways as though afraid to look back. - Brandon S.

Penelope, wife of Odysseus

Kaleidoscopy (9/20/7)

Scanning the room to give you the global picture - the Language Arts Lab, class of many courses:

Literary Magazine
Summarizing a review of previous Wolfmoons and other similar publications, the Block 6 team concluded:
Wolfmoon, Volume 1
Hand-drawn, casual doodle-like illustrations are a plus
Loosey-goosey, zany layout is a plus
Tactfully falling letters let tact fall freely

Home-copied print and paper not a plus
Organization is lacking, index inadequate
Proofreading imperfect

Wolfmoon, Volume 2
Slick paper looks classy, especially on cover
Index and table of contents improved
Advertising spots do not detract and produce cash
Themed pages work when possible

Lines idea too limiting
Too much formal structure in layout
Proofreading imperfect

Contrapuntal
Editorial commentary and section introductions are interesting
Lots of quality content, none too long
Student art cover works well

Horrid haiku(s)

Wolfmoon, Volume 3
Should be carefully proofread before publication
Should include more informal illustrations and highlights
Should have a freer layout
Should give attention to overall organization of pages and pieces

Communication Applications
Summarizing a comparison of important features of oral and written communication:

The Duh Difference - Oral communication is oral, using the speaking voice and the hearing ear; written communication uses the written word and the reading eye.

Different tools - OC uses vocal sound (tone, volume, rate, enunciation, etc.) whereas WC uses diction and syntax and literary techniques. Overlap: OC, especially when formally prepared, uses many of the tools of WC, and WC may use sound devices and other similar tools of OC. OC may also use body language, gesture, facial expressions, and other physical tools that, as far as we can see for now, have no parallel in WC.

The matter of time - OC also makes use of pauses and rhythm. And rhyme, of course. There is, of course, rhythm to the written word, thousands of so-called sound devices in writing, and pauses are at least implied. (Poets even have a word for a pause- caesura- but don't let anyone tell you to put a comma where there should be a pause. Wrong, wrong, wrong!) It's not so much that WC doesn't have these tools to use; rather it's that the reader doesn't physically hear them.

This delicate distinction is perhaps made more clear by recognizing the way OC exists in time. In OC, the pauses and rhythm, for instance, occur in real time. This can lead to awkward silences on the one hand and unintelligibly rapid speech on the other, and one person's awkward silence may be another's dramatic pause. It leads to silence-filling catch phrases like "like"and "you know" and "um." With WC, time is not the master. Writers have more time to think about what to say and how to say it, to perfect their language, including the way it would sound if it were read aloud. Readers, likewise, have time to re-read, to leave the communication and return, to consult resources, and many other options the time-ly nature of OC does not allow.

Another element of the operation of OC in time is that there is no white-out in OC. OC is instantaneous, and once your words are out there, they're out there. You can correct them or explain them, excuse them or expand them, repeat them or regret them, but you can't erase them. This feature of OC intimidates many beginning communicators and makes public speaking a frightening experience for some.

This instantaneous, no-whiteout quality combines with another feature of OC to tangle and tie the tongues of the timid and seal the lips of the reluctant. OC is inevitably more personal communication than WC, for just as surely as there is no white-out, there is also no anonymity. This factor allows the speaker to make use of his or her personal qualities, including appearance, movement, and all of those vocal and physical tools the writer has no access to. A writer may more easily disguise himself or herself than a speaker and can establish a certain distance from her or his words, but a speaker is there in time and space, making the words that make the meaning. The advantage is clear, but the discomfort of this inescapable personal connection is the source of the frequently heard safety valve phrase, "Well, I'm just sayin'..."

Formality - Where OC can be as formal as WC at times, WC tends to be more formal because it is free from the pressures of existing only in present time. Without silence fillers, awkward silences, mispronunciations, or verbal blunders, WC is certainly more fixed and also likely to be more formal.

Feedback - Among the most important tools of OC, used to great effect by the best speakers and unavailable to writers, is the presence of instantaneous feedback. A speaker is continually informed by her or his audience about their collective and individual response to what is being said. Furrowed brows, glimpses at one's wristwatch, heads nodding or shaking, and a thousand other indicators offer a speaker the opportunity to edit and revise his or her communication. The poor writer, on the other hand, does not even have control over what audience he or she is addressing. Anyone can go the the library and choose any book. The writer must assume and identify an audiences, address them as effectively as possible, and make choices to that end. But if her or his choices are not working, it will not be known until far too late to fix.

Burther flurring - With the advent of text messaging, IM, and other new communication media, there is an interesting blurring of the lines between oral and written communication that will bear further inquiry.

Anthropology anyone? - At another level, the differences between a culture with an oral tradition and one with a written tradition suggest additional valuable insights. With the development of a written tradition comes a change of emphasis from story to history. A culture of story values more the truth in a narrative than the truth of it. The wisdom of an oral tradition lies in ever-changing and adapting narratives rather than a single, fixed account or in formulated conclusions, laws, or beliefs. Oral wisdom, therefore, lives in the present and in the relationship of teller and told, speaker and hearer. Oral tradition makes wisdom an element of a community, not the possession of a particular formal statement. In a written tradition, the accuracy of certain words themselves is invested with high value, but in an oral tradition value is invested in interaction and adaptability.

Mystery and Suspense
Having read mysteries featuring the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, this group explored some of the techniques that make these works so appealing to young readers:
1. They start in the middle of some extreme action. English teachers call this technique of beginning in medias res.
2. Something scary or dangerous always happens to the investigators themselves in the course of the books.
3. The settings and events are purely fictional, not occurring in relationship to any particular place or time in history. Thus, they exist in every place and every time.

More to come.







Creative Writing
The "personal responses" of these readers of an essay turn out to read like reviews or summaries or evaluations of the essay. The essay is their focal point rather than the response of the writer to the essay. Thus, for now anyway, the editor is electing not to publish them because the teacher apparently did not make his instructions clear and because there are plenty of evaluative reviews already published here.

Old Words in New Places

Posted by Mr. B

In my compressed English IV class, students have recently read excerpts from the ancient Anglo-Saxon poem "The Seafarer." Before reading it, we discussed the almost incomprehensible difference between their world (British Isles before 1000 C.E.) and our own. To read this poem is to look at a snapshot of these ancient people whose lives were so different from our own and whose language was also vastly different. To say that the roots of our language and the precursors of our culture are located among these folk is an all-too-easy generalization that has little strength of meaning if we do not comprehend their astonishing differences from ourselves.

But if we have a sense of our enormous distance from these primitive people, then the slightest connection with them becomes a matter of significance. So, reading lines from "The Seafarer," when we discover feelings of isolation and despair that we ourselves have felt and when we recognize in them the passionate calling to dangerous paths that we know well, something unexpected is happening. When the ancient writer asks, "Who could believe,/ ..., how wearily,/ I put myself back on the paths of the sea." we answer, "We could. We know." When we note that, like ourselves, they use numbers imprecisely for effect ("the sea...showed me suffering in a hundred ships,/In a thousand ports...", that they make metaphor like we do ("My feet were cast/ in icy bands, bound with frost,/With frozen chains,..."), that their lines and rhythms of speech ring with familiarity, we witness a sort of miracle - that language can bridge so much time and change.

To further explore the ancient connections that language alone reveals, Mr. B made an alphabetical list of all the 172 words used in the first 43 lines of "The Seafarer." Using only those words, we wrote poems of our own. Here are three of them read aloud in class today:

A Journey Through Life

No more a sheltered youth
I drifted around seeking
For comfort, in the coldest hearts.
Often smashing me into drowning waves
Of misfortune, tossing and towering
Over me, I was suffering from hardship.
I was left to feel as if torn into
salt and left in the sea. Icy and cold, freezing,
But eagerly I am bound to feel the passion and pleasure
Of laughter instead of pain and sorrow. So I tore
Through myself, anxious to begin a thousand
Journeys of more suffering sorrow and pain
Knowing I was no more a sheltered youth.

by Alicia J.

time, the coldest comfort
I was under a weary hunger
frozen in a blackened grave
it was there I sweated wearily to night, sailing on
anxious, suffering, an icy hailstorm
where time was drifting, I left, knowing laughter
left me, the coldest, seeking a hardship
to cast chains around me to comfort me and put me in a quiet night

I, seeking passion from the icy night, was called for a thousand journeys,
sent with gulls perched with misfortune from pleasure, but I groan
on and taste the drifting snow, salt is the taste,
no more knowing of the wine who cast me in chains,
put ports around me, and called birds to put pain on me.
I, roaring with laughter, sail on and watch waves with time, the coldest comfort,
who will offer no passion, only laughter, cold, blackened laughter as time
sails on.

by Dante R.

Smashing sorrow with passion I feel
an anxious beat in myself. I dashed
around misfortune with laughter instead
of pain. I willed myself to feel comfort as
bands of fear begin drifting over me.. In the
icy heart of Fate I taste sorrow on a
knowing horizon for night can blacken
a soul. A thousand waves of misfortune
swept through me. Fairness left. Sorrow
so wretched swept in. Wearily I tore
myself from freezing desolation.
Instead I perched proud towering over
suffering. The chains of pain cast back
to an icy grave.

by Natalie P.

And if that doesn't convince us all that diction - choice of words - is very important, what will?

How This Class Works (9-14-7)

Posted by Jasmine H., Block 6

Explanatory Note: The dialogue between writer and editor that makes up the bulk of this post is exactly the kind of dialogue that occurs routinely in the Language Arts Lab. There are students sometimes who complain that the teacher always tells them their answers are wrong and who elect not to speak out any further. The teacher maintains that by questioning and seeking more from students' answers he is taking them seriously, seeking to more fully explore and understand what they are saying and helping them learn to express it. It requires a great deal of trust on the part of a student, but it permits some lively and intense learning.

Mr. B separated us into groups and had those of us in creative writing read an essay he had written that summed up the main point he has been trying to teach us since school began. (See Choosing: The Way We Read and Write on the Resource Blog to read it yourself.) Then we were supposed to discuss whether an essay could be considered "creative writing".
[Editor's Note: So could it? How? What is this "creative writing" you speak of?]

And then we were to give our responses to the essay.

Some of us thought the vocabulary and fluidity of the essay were really interesting.
[Ed: What vocabulary? Why interesting? What is fluidity and can you show us examples from the essay? The opinions are only valuable to the extent that you can support them.]

Other quotes from the essay that we liked were:

"And what seems like weeks of energetic, earnest teaching and richly evocative learning experiences swirl down the Friday afternoon toilet bowl."
[Ed: Why did you like it? I suspect that it was just the fact that it mentioned swirling and the toilet bowl which are sort of titillating, borderline potty words. Am I right? I could have written (and thought about writing) "wash down the drain." Would that have been better or worse? Why?]

"...we give ourselves access to those unitended choices that are so rich an element of every artist's work."
[Ed: Out of its context, I'm not even sure I know what this is about, and I wrote it. I suspect that it says that by asking the question of choices, "we give..." That doesn't seem to be a reason to like this quote. Is it the word "access" or "rich"? Is it the generalization to every artist? Examples don't carry much weight without explanation.]

"The expectation, the goal, is to find the solution."
[Ed: I couldn't decide between "expectation" and "goal", so I used both. The sentence remains short anyway. Is that why you like it? Does it have some special place in its context? If you don't tell us why you like it, we can't learn much from your liking it.]

The choices he made when writing the essay make the essay creative.
[Ed.: Which choices? What do you mean by "creative"?]

The essay didn't follow any particular literary rules;
[Ed.: It did, too! Literary rule #1: Be concrete. Literary rule #2: Consider what will affect your audience when choosing what and how to write. Literary rule #3: Start with something that will catch the reader's attention. Literary rule #4: A paragraph is not a certain number of sentences; it is a complete thought. What rules are you talking about? If it broke some, which ones? Literary rule #4: Break rules for effect. ]

it just sounded like personal thought
[Ed. What are personal thoughts? What are the other kinds of thoughts?]

and almost blog-like which in turn resembled a more creative piece.
[Ed. Huh?]

We liked it!
[Ed. And I'm certainly glad you did, but without more concrete detail about what you liked and more explanation of why you liked it, it sounds like shallow flattery. I do love flattery, though, shallow or otherwise. And I hope you recognize what a really important contribution you have made by daring to put this out here and letting me turn it into a writing lesson. Thanks for being bold enough to write, especially on a day when your table group is only a part of the action.]

The Art of Writing (9/12/7)

Posted by Xavier L.
The Art Of Writing
(Teachings of the great and powerful Mr. B Destroyer of Sameness and Unopened Minds)

What do we have to think in order to read literature and understand art? We have to believe the artist made a choice in what he or she wrote, sang, painted, or performed. In writing and reading, we believe authors wrote what they wrote to create an effect and that the different choices and decisions help to amplify and expand that effect. It is even possible with some choices the writer had not though of, choices can from their passion and heart. Yet, we believe their choices are to create an effect so we can understand more completely the beauty and significance of the story or poem. This is what Mr. B was telling us today in class, and he has been trying to distill this idea for weeks, possibly even years.

There are those who maylook at a work of art and, instead of questioning it and trying to understand it, they think it's stupid. To those that think that, Mr. B gives you a piece of advice "hold up a mirror".

Mr. B told us of the time he and a math teacher had a discussion while carpooling to school. Of a computer malfunction, the math teacher said," I know I'm a reasonable person and if I put my mind to it I can figure a way to fix it." Mr. B then got to thinking and observed that in the science and mathematical world when you make the choice to beileve you can solve the problem a lot of times you can. It is straightforward. And there is expected to be a single solution. In writing it is more than that; it is almost more complicated.

Cody mentioned a philosopher named Heidegger who said the mind has two aspects.One is like a two-lane road where you know where to go while the other is a fallow field where whatever grows will grow.

The Whole Picture
Poems , Mr. B tells me, are musical and very intentional with the use of sound. It is very important not just read a poem but to read it aloud or you won't get it. Poems have another dimension to them, an artistic spirit where the writers may make unconscious (or inspired) choices. To understand a poem (or other work of art) better, you begin by reading alound and then letting it be, sitting with it open to its possibilities.

Next, you must be sure to understand it literally or the connections you make will not have a foundation.

To An Athlete Dying Young
We went through the poem line by line [Editor's Note: No, we didn't! We went through it sentence by sentence, and that is essential!] clarifying the literal meaning of it.

Sentence 1: The scene is of celebration and the next sentence emphasizes that. Though there was foreshadowing of death as people usually bring others home to bury them and may "chair" them through the market place. Irony?

Sentence 2: Literally: We carry you in your coffin shoulder high. We set you down at doorway of a stiller town we presume to be a graveyard.
Note: "To-day"? What does that mean? A choice of the writer for affect? stumbling block?

Sentence 3: "Betimes" is shorter version of "before times" meaning "early". "Laurel" whose leaves are used to make victory wreaths, grows early and could fade away fast. Paraphrase: "Smart move kid to die before your glory fades away. "All glory is fleeting;" it withers quicker than the rose.
Sentence 4: Eyes that night has shut won't see his record get beat. Earth stops up his ears so that silence sounds no worse than cheers.
Sentence 5: "Rout "is "defeat" as one army routs the other.
Sentence 6: So set your foot on the doorsill (threshold) of (not just the blocking of the sun) but of death. The lintel is above the door, like when the children of Israel painted the blood on the lintel to mark their homes from the Angel of Death.
Sentence 7: The strengthless dead will flock to him when he dies, gathering around his early laurelled head (meaning very young).

When the literal meaning is sure, figurative meaning and interpretations follow.
We ended the class by interpreting the poem with our ideas. Tanyelle said that the "stiller town" gives her a picture of a graveyard, especially in New Orleans, where it is called the city of the dead. Hannah mentioned that this stepping through a doorway makes her think he is going through a door of life after death or going to a better place.

This is Mr. Bentons' method to teach the reading of literature and poetry.