8th in Line

 

Feb 28, 2016 (I was 71)   -

 

         8^th in Line

The product I produced

was a minor attachment

on the assembly line

as the units passed through

at the rate of 150-200 each year

I was responsible for product improvement

Every year an updated application

was integrated into each unit manually

It took 180 to 184 workdays

to complete the process

The applications were complex

designed to fit the individual needs

of diverse units with specifications to be learned

even as they were continually modified

Upon completion the product proceeded

to further facilities before deemed ready

for implementation and use

in careers of service

mostly unknown to me

I have little knowledge

of how effective my installations were

Jr. High Lunch

 

from this week in October, 1999  (I was 54)

 

Jr. High Lunch

Burden of education on their backs

they carry packs

One size fits all

got to be ingenious if you’re small

Discomfort is the essence of adolescence

Munch brief lunch standing up

Lines that linger in hot sun are longer in rain

Crowded into dry corners

they occupy their precious time

crowing loudly to define

who they are in semi-confident belief

life is as it should be

Knowledge born from minor grief

I’m teaching again

from this week in May, 1998  (I was 53)

I’m teaching again

the little I know

about a few good poems

with enough disrespect

to get students to believe

they can do it themselves

and with enough love

to make them want to try

Testing Teacher

April 14, 1973  (I was 28)

         Testing Teacher

Don’t hold your bated breath teacher

this student is not interested in your colored paper

your film strips records and tapes

He will not plot your graph nor find his point

not even search at his own speed

Tell him who owns the legs at table 2

and you’ll have given what he needs

Let’s put up a front of educational freedom

Let’s offer alternatives within the scope of our goals

Let’s give our charged subjects choices

Let them assume we care even if we cannot

(After all we know we should)

If we let them truly choose

they may shock us with their acumen

They may find us unaware

They may leave us holding our IQ tests

and run off to measure the air

The principal walked through the open air patio

April 2, 1969  (I was 24)

The principal walked through the open air patio

in a junior high-school whose architecture will be

remembered in ages hence as a representational type,

mid 20^th century public education plant, California-

Ranch.  As was his custom whenever he walked across

campus to the Men’s Room or to the teachers’ lunch

room for a coke, he picked up bits of litter from the

walk, from the planters, and deposited the refuse into

a waste container.  This particular day he saw a

cigarette butt between the teachers’ room

and the boys’ lavatory.  He thought about it, and when

he returned to the office he told his secretary to include

a notice in the daily bulletin headed Teachers Only:

Please be careful when disposing of your cigarette ends,

so students will not see them discarded on the campus

grounds.  No other perpetrator occurred to him. 

notes for The Poetry Class, day 32

March 30, 1976  (I was 31)

notes for The Poetry Class, day 32 

         We did improvisational writing to guitar music from John Fahey’s

Yellow Princess album.  This lesson always works for me.  I attribute much

of the success to the music.  It seems entirely appropriate for the exercise. 

I’ve tried other records, but this was twenty-five minutes of silent attentive listening/writing.  I said if they could get into the music, its rhythms and melodies would almost dictate the words to be written.  Most found

themselves writing to the tempo of the music.  I told them not to stop to

re-read or revise.  When a thought ended or the music changed in mood,

they were to draw a line and immediately pick upon the new theme.  The key

is to remain free enough to keep up the pace.  After the piece, the remainder

of the period was for reading, sorting and revising.  I always participate,

writing along as the class writes. 

     A few examples:

The flow of the water

is the essence of the brook

turning upon the rocks

the bank, the bars of sand

hold it in your hand

to feel the cold

experience the fold

of the split foam

following its various directions

the eddies the currents

         ____________

where are the shadows

in the dark

singing songs of mourning

to the spiders as they spin

their strands of sun

to expose the phantoms

         ____________

two three four

it all goes

out some one else’s door

or scatters soundlessly about the floor

show to me the breaking shore

can’t see or hear any more

must get down to the foamy shore

break like the water upon the rocks

so if you are set to follow,

come

the world may be hollow

notes for The 8th Grade Poetry Class, day 29

March 14, 1976  (I was 31)

notes for The 8^th Grade Poetry Class, day 29

         We wrote composite poetry.  I asked eight students to participate

in the demonstration.  I showed the class an art print.  The volunteers

wrote a single line of an observed detail, subject matter or mood.  I

asked that the lines be read randomly, one at a time.  I transcribed them

entirely or in part to the chalk board.  With each new line there is the

challenge to form a parallel, a counterpoint, or provide workable transitions

between images and ideas.  I talked about the poem taking shape as I

erased, repositioned, shortened, elongated or otherwise worked the lines

into cohesive form.  Not all that difficult given the common inspiration and

the students’ desire to be concise and perceptive in their offerings.  I

displayed the art print again and read the assembled piece.  They were

impressed and enthused with the end result of their collective genius. 

         Groups of eight students were given individual art prints, and each

student wrote out their one-line impression eight times on separate strips

of paper.  After lines were exchanged they worked individually to arrange

revise and supplement the lines into their unique poetic version of the

material, transcribing the result into their notebooks.

notes for The 8th Grade Poetry Class, day 19

March 9, 1976  (I was 31)

notes for The 8^th Grade Poetry Class, day 19

         I told them we had reached a plateau, everything up to now was,

more or less, introduction.  We were beginning to push out to new levels

of understanding poetic concepts.  I reminded them how many came in

thinking poetry was just writing in rhyme.  I compared rhyme to a

carpenter’s hammer, useful, but not the only tool in the box.  I stretched

the comparison to other carpentry tools.  We talked alliteration, simile,

metaphor and personification.  We talked tongue twisters.  I made a

distinction between playing with tools and building a house, a bird house.

I asked how many had written in their notebooks in the past week.

         Bells rang. A voice over the intercom, “This is a disaster drill.”  We

assumed duck and cover position along walls away from windows.  We

sat in darkness and listened to the voice tell us what we would do if

this were an earthquake or other disaster.  We were told to evacuate,

and we assembled outside at our designated area until the all-clear bell. The

disaster was over in eight minutes.  

         We talked about chaos, eternity, and measuring the universe. 

Eventually we got back to Margaret Chilton’s poem “Premonitions.”  They

identified metaphors, similes, alliterations and personifications.  It did not

take them long to get into the poem nor to appreciate the humor.