Shared Voices
        by  teach,
         1st July 2001.   
        
        This is a presentation I gave in
        Taegu, Korea, on teaching poetry to reluctant students.
        
        
  
        Note: If
        the Korean characters in this article do not appear as they should,
        click on View, Encoding, More, and Korean to see them as they should
        appear.
        
        I’m going to take a chance. In my creative writing classes, I make it
        a requirement that my students take a chance every day. I don’t ask
        them to cross a downtown street in Seoul while blindfolded. Instead, I
        tell them that if they always drink their coffee with cream and sugar,
        then try it one day with just sugar. If they always eat strawberry ice
        cream, then try chocolate. Writers must take chances. Every generation
        of poets wants to do something new. Frost wrote Frost. Eliot has done
        Eliot. What can a new writer create that hasn’t been created before?
        Writers are in trouble when they ask the question, “Can I do this? Can
        I get away with this?” The greatest writers break the rules. And maybe
        we teachers need to break rules too.
        
        I am going to read a poem to you. If I do a poor job of reading it and
        fall flat on my face, I will have done so not for my lack of effort but
        instead for the language difficulties of reading in a second language.
        
        
        서 시
        
        죽는 날까지 하늘을
        우러러
        한 점 부끄럼이
        없기를,
        잎새에 이는
        바람에도
        나는 괴로와 했다.
        별을 노래하는
        마음으로
        모든 죽어 가는 것을
        사랑해야지.
        그리고 나한테
        주어진 길을
        걸어 가야겠다.
        오늘 밤에도 별이
        바람에 스치운다.
        
        I could practice reading
        this poem every day for the next ten years, and I would still never be
        able to say uroro like a native speaker. I almost did not read this poem
        today for that reason. Poetry can be intimidating. It can intimidate
        teachers and students both. I have often walked into my classes and
        asked my students how many of them hate poetry. I have seen as many as
        90% of the hands in the room go up. They tell horror stories of how
        poetry has been taught to them, of how it confuses them, and how it has
        nothing to do with anything in today’s real world. The most frequent
        complaint is voiced as “Why don’t poets ever say what 
        they
        mean?” They express fear at not understanding the poems and of being
        tested on something they do not understand. How do we teach a subject so
        unpopular? How can we translate our love of poetry to our audience? This
        is a challenge that all of us face.
        
        I don’t know if I do anything differently in my classes than any of
        you in this room. I can only offer how I approach dealing with these
        problems above. My teaching situation is different from that of most of
        my fellow teachers. I teach in a nontraditional classroom. I have done
        this for about 17 years. I have taught at an inner-city community
        college, behind the walls of a maximum-security prison, onboard US Navy
        ships with planes landing and taking off above our classroom while we
        were deployed to the Indian Ocean, and alongside the DMZ with
        helicopters passing overhead and humvees roaring down the road outside
        our windows. My students range in age from 18 to 60. Most of them work
        full time as active-duty soldiers. I have had them come to class
        straight from field exercises, wearing muddy combat boots, rifles slung
        over their shoulders. However, I also have students who are more
        traditional. Many of my students are recent graduates from the
        Department of Defense high school on base. I also have the husbands and
        wives of military members in my classes, of whom, many are studying
        English as a second language. In addition to them, students from the
        international community in Seoul often take classes with the University
        of Maryland. This term I have students from black America, white
        America, Hispanic America, and Asian America, as well as Puerto Rico,
        the Virgin Islands, the Philippines, Japan, Korea, Guam, the United Arab
        Emirates, Nigeria, Belgium and France. It is a joy to teach in such a
        multicultural environment. My students learn to embrace the beauty of
        difference.
        
        However, this very cultural mix that makes it such a joy to teach in
        these surroundings also brings with it problems. Socioeconomic
        background, weak high-school training and second-language difficulties
        are all aspects that present problems. Thus, the first thing that I set
        out to do is to remove the fear. One may ask what specifically causes
        their uneasiness. Some of the reasons are obvious. They are first afraid
        of not being able to understand the poems and of being required to
        understand them in class discussions and on exams. We can easily
        humiliate a student by asking him or her what a line or image means
        exactly, and then correcting the student in front of everyone else.
        Being absolute about meaning is often the worst thing we can do. It is
        the ambiguity and multiple interpretations that give poetry its beauty.
        A poem is a window. Each of us walks up to that window, but what each
        one of us sees upon looking out depends on what we bring to that moment.
        
        As William Stafford says in his poem “The Gift,”
        
        Time wants to show you a different country. It's the one
        that your life conceals, the one waiting outside
        when the curtains are drawn . . .
        It's a country where
        you already are, bringing where you have been.
        
        A poem will always have a surface meaning, but often, perhaps most
        often, perhaps always, another meaning will dwell beneath the surface,
        and this meaning can be different for each one of us. A person who has
        lost a parent will read a poem about death in a different way than
        someone fortunate enough to still have both parents living. A poem of
        life in poverty will be read differently by someone who is affluent as
        opposed to a person who has lived that life. To take away one’s
        interpretation when a poem is working is an injustice to the poet, the
        poem and the reader. It steals the poem’s beauty. We should never do
        that.
        
        When we begin our readings, I tell them not to worry about what a poem
        means. I tell them that poetry is as much about language as it is
        anything else. We learn to hear the music in the words themselves. Poets
        like E. E. Cummings, William Carlos Williams, and Theodore Roethke, with
        their use of approximate rhyme, are wonderful for this. We learn to play
        with Cummings. Take the poem “In Just-,” and divide the class into
        two sections: “far” and “wee” Have one-half of the class whistle
        when you read the word “far” and the other group whistle when you
        read the line “wee” They will laugh and feel at ease.
        
        In Just―
        spring when the world is mud-
        luscious the little
        lame balloonman
        
        whistles far and wee
        
        and eddieandbill come
        running from marbles and
        piracies and it's
        spring
        
        when the world is puddle-wonderful
        
        the queer
        old balloonman whistles
        far and wee
        and bettyandisbel come dancing
        
        from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
        
        it's
        spring
        and
        the
        goat-footed
        
        balloonMan whistles
        far
        and
        wee
        
        We then
        move on to other Cummings poems, working the sounds. I tell them that
        the secret to understanding Cummings is to not try to understand
        Cummings, to just feel the meaning. We discuss felt knowledge. What I
        have found is that once I tell them they don't have to figure out the
        poems, they want to. As we read without worrying about what the poems
        mean, the students always start to wonder on their own what the meanings
        are. When that happens, we just pick up the ball and run with it.
        
        Then it is time to bring in outside voices. I don’t teach just from
        the text. I will bring in poems by the same author but ones not included
        in our textbook. Cummings has written some wonderfully erotic poems for
        which the students ALWAYS ask for copies. The Williams poem “Danse
        Russe” is another one they enjoy.
        
        If when my wife is sleeping
        and the baby and Kathleen
        are sleeping
        and the sun is a flame-white disc
        in silken mists
        above shining trees,--
        if I in my north room
        dance naked, grotesquely
        before my mirror
        waving my shirt round my head
        and singing softly to myself:
        “I am lonely, lonely.
        I was born to be lonely,
        I am best so!”
        If I admire my arms, my face
        my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
        against the yellow drawn shades,--
        
        Who shall say I am not
        the happy genius of my household.
        
        The students always say the author is “crazy,” and at the very
        least, bizarre. That is our opening into what the poem is really talking
        about. We look at the images in the poem. What time of day is it?
        Sunrises are beginnings; sunsets are endings. What kind of dance is it?
        It is not a pretty or delicate dance. This opens an avenue for looking
        at the symbols in the poem. Our discussion then moves on to the uniforms
        we wear when we “prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet,” to
        quote Eliot. We also take a close look at assonance in this poem, the
        splendid rhymes of the long e sounds in “sleeping” “baby,”
        “Kathleen” and “shining trees,” his exquisite use of “mist”
        and “disc” and “shades” and “say” This poem sings. We study
        how Williams gives us this music. A nice set includes this poem along
        with “This Is Just to Say” and a closing with “The Red
        Wheelbarrow.” Put the latter poem on the board and ask them what they
        see. Let them search, and then coach them a little bit to reveal its
        subtlely hidden structure.
        
        so much depends
        upon
        
        a red wheel
        barrow
        
        glazed with rain
        water
        beside the white
        chickens.
        
        This poem can spark a lot of interest. Once it is on the board or an
        overhead projector, just stand there and let them look at it for a
        while. I have had some students actually grow angry at the poem. I’ve
        often heard them say, “I could have written that!” or “It doesn't
        say anything!” However, someone will always see a part of its hidden
        structure. Often, I have heard a student say, “It’s four little
        wheelbarrows.” This leads into a brief discussion of the shape of
        poems. Our literature text has a short section on such poems. We then
        look at the number of stanzas and words in each stanza. It has four
        couplets with four words in each stanza, and two times four is eight,
        the number of lines we have in the poem. Each couplet has three words on
        the first line and one word on the second line, providing the
        wheelbarrow image. The syllable count runs with a 4:2, 3:2, 3:2, 4:2
        pattern as we read through the stanzas. We talk about the subtlety of
        the poem's form. Williams puts structure into the poem and then makes it
        invisible. The music is there, layered upon this subtle framework.
        
        With Roethke, his wonderful poems of sadness and madness work well. He
        is an engaging poet to work into a set with Sylvia Plath and Anne
        Sexton, with a little dash of Robert Lowell, W. D. Snodgrass and George
        Starbuck thrown in. Starbuck and Plath signed on for a workshop under
        Lowell once they heard that Sexton was taking the class. They did not
        sign on because of who was teaching it but for who was sitting in it.
        Once a week after every class, the three students would go drinking
        together at the Ritz Hotel in Boston, where the two ladies would discuss
        their fascination about death as they sat munching potato chips and
        drinking martinis (Sexton, “Bar Fly” 6-7). Later, when Plath took
        her own life, Sexton wrote two fascinating poems in response. I find it
        worthwhile to read “Wanting to Die,” which tells the “Why” of
        suicide, and then another poem dedicated to Sylvia, which was written
        earlier in Sexton's career, a piece titled “Sylvia’s Death.” Often
        the lives of the poets will make their writing work in the class. A line
        from Sexton to Plath echoes a subtle warning, “If you're not careful
        Sylvia, you will out-Roethke Roethke” (Sexton, “Bar Fly” 10)” It
        seems they both did. Sexton took her own life eleven years after Plath.
        Ironically, their deaths share a common vein, Plath on her knees with
        her head in the oven and Sexton sitting in her car in the garage, the
        engine running and the door closed.
        
        We talk about writing from the unconscious and the price a poet pays for
        following that route. Sexton, Plath, Lowell and Roethke all suffered
        bouts of madness, they paid a terrible price to create the works of
        beauty they left us. I once asked a colleague who teaches psychology why
        we see so many casualties among the poets. He said that no one knows but
        he personally felt that “anyone who thinks that deeply about things
        has to become depressed.” This often leads to an engaging class
        discussion.
        
        Sexton is an important voice to represent another direction we need to
        go in to make our classes relevant to our students. Sexton is a notable
        feminist figure. She writes on topics that are not polite, that women
        should not write about according to the social values of her time. She
        writes about abortion, masturbation and menstruating at age 40. In
        today’s world, where women are continually seeking equality in the
        workplace as well as the household, a voice such as Sexton strikes home.
        Our students appreciate her honesty and courage. They understand her
        frustrations. In her poem published in 1962, “The Abortion,” she
        says,
        
        Somebody who should have been born
        is gone.
        
        This poem neither defends nor condemns abortion; instead it explores the
        feelings of a woman alone after she has encountered this experience.
        Many of our students, in their private lives, have explored the same
        questions that this woman asks herself in the poem.
        
        It is important to involve our students' lives in their studies. We need
        to bring in poems of gender, ethnicity and sexual preference. As I said
        earlier, my students come from a multiplicity of backgrounds. They need
        to find themselves in the poems we read. One of my favorites along this
        line is “La Guitarra” by Federico Garcia Lorca. The poem appears in
        our text in both Spanish and English. This is a rewarding poem to work
        in two voices. I will have a Hispanic student read a line in Spanish,
        and then I will read the same line in English, our voices echoing one
        another. Last term, a student suggested that he read it all the way
        through in Spanish and then have the English version read. This worked
        well too. Often by this time in the course, I can have two students read
        the poem for its beauty of sounds while I stand on the sidelines and
        listen. My purpose is to awaken their voices and their ears, to make
        them want to feel the words on their tongues. Roethke says that a
        generation growing up on television is tone deaf. We need to cure that
        deafness.
        
        Poetry is a shared voice. It shares the pains and joys of life, the
        frustrations and comforts, the defeats and the victories. Poetry talks
        of those things that every living creature shares. And that is what we
        need to do in our classes. Poems such as “The Love Song of J. Alfred
        Prufrock” and “13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” work so much
        better with shared voices reading them. Open with a brief discussion of
        the theme Eliot’s poem explores, and then take a few minutes to
        explain the references with which most of our students are unfamiliar.
        Next, divide the number of lines in the poem by the number of students
        in the class. Read it aloud together. It takes the mystery out of the
        poem and reinforces our awareness that it is a poem of a subject we all
        share. We will all grow old and leave this earth one day. With the
        Stevens poem, have 13 voices read the 13 stanzas. Call out stanza one
        and ask, “Who wants it?” Let them pick the ones they want to read.
        Shared voices, shared experiences, shared visions. This is what poetry
        and teaching are all about.
        
        I opened with a poem by Yun, Tongju. I have searched for an English
        translation of the poem. In my efforts, I have found three, and all
        three are different. I have asked many of my Korean friends to translate
        it into English for me. I have not found two people yet who agree on
        what the poem means. I have asked scholars, professional translators and
        those who love poetry. If I am having this much trouble finding
        agreement on the poem, then imagine how much difficulty our students who
        are just starting out with poetry are having. Thus I have decided to
        close this discussion with my own translation of the poem.
        
        Prelude
        
        Until the day I die, I wish to
        look up at the sky, untainted by shame.
        But even the wind in the leaves
        brings me pain.
        With a heart that sings beneath the stars
        I will love all dying things,
        and I will walk the path that has been given to me.
        
        Tonight again,
        the winds sweep across the stars.
        
        I taught my first classes as a student teacher under the guidance of Joe
        Lizowski. I was worried about whether I could do it. In fact, I was
        scared to death to stand in front of a group of students. He told me,
        “David, you don't teach college. You don’t teach English. You don't
        teach the book. You teach people.” Those are some of the most
        important words anyone has ever said to me. We teach people. I have to
        stop and remind myself every now and then.
        
        ***
        
        
        Works Cited
        
        Cummings, E. E. “In Just--.” 100 Selected Poems. New York: Grove,
        1954. 5.
        
        Eliot, T. S. “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” The Waste Land
        and Other Poems. New York: Harvest-Harcourt, 1962. 1-9.
        
        Litz, A. Walton, and Christopher MacGowan, eds. The Collected Poems of
        William Carlos Williams. Vol.1. New York: New Directions, 1986.
        
        Sexton, Anne. “The Abortion.” The Complete poems: Anne Sexton.
        Boston: Houghton, 1981. 61-62.
        
        _____. “The Bar Fly Ought to Sing.” 1966. No Evil Star: Selected
        Essays, Interviews, and
        Prose. Ed. Steven E. Colburn. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 1985. 6-13.
        
        Stafford, William. “The Gift.” The 1991-1992 Pushcart Prize: Best of
        the Small Presses. Ed. Bill Henderson. New York: Pushcart, 1991. 103.
        
        Williams, William Carlos. “Danse Russe.” Litz and MacGowan 86-87.
        _____. “The Red Wheelbarrow.” Litz and MacGowan 224.
        
        Yoon, Tongju. “Prelude.” Sky and Wind and Stars and Poems. Kwang Guk
        Kim, ed. Seoul: Mi Rae Sah, 1980. 11.