My friend Sarah (an activist and poet who blogs here: http://bonemanifesto.wordpress.com/) has seen me flip out a time or two (or three) about something ridiculous. Her poem challenge for me is related to a minor flip-out she once witnessed where a mutual friend of ours told me (out of nowhere) -- "You know, you'd have made a good homeschooler."
I turned around slowly, menacingly, and said, - "What is that supposed to mean?"
couldn't give me a good explanation, and I wouldn't let it go.
Unfortunately, in my indignant huff, I forgot that our friend who
commented on my homeschool potential had himself once been homeschooled.
Later, he got a little indignant with me about what was offensive
about being called a homeschooler.
And of course, he should have been indignant. I was wrong.
I took Sarah up on this challenge of writing a poem about
homeschooling, I thought about the stereotype of homeschooled children
being sheltered. Then I thought about stories children often hear from
their parents, myths and fairy tales, and how parents use these stories
to prepare their children for the awful things in the outside world.
Even within the relative safety of a supportive home with kind parents,
kids have to deal with loss, fear, sadness, the past. No one can be
all that sheltered by their parents.
Even if a mother won't go to the depths
of hell to find her daughter,
she'll search for her name
in the crossword on the cereal box.
When she loses the family's minds,
she can shape new ones from dough,
drenched in red sprinkles
to signify the world's commotion.
The world is fearful.
Even horror stories are less painful to enter,
where drywall can be replaced
with gingerbread, and still the house won't shake.
You stop teaching kids when you notice
they learn alone
to find psalms in soda cans
and dissect frog songs.
In the yard,
generations of kin stretch back
from solid to spirit
to give her what she needs
to give the children:
a holy coal;
apricots for oatmeal;
I've generally come to expect from your poems, there is a stream of
consciousness that initially seems somewhat unconnected, but begins to
fall together as the list of thoughts goes on to form a cohesive
impression by the end. In the case of this poem, just one word is
sufficient, "coats." The single word acts as a capping image for the
concept of shelter that has already been explored in the other stanzas,
whether positive or negative: the mother who may not go to the depths of
hell, but will search for her child's name (possibly read as identity),
or the mother who shapes the mind like cookie dough, but always with
the inclusion of the "world's commotion." There is an effective
parallel throughout the poem of life within the home and the world
without. I think you've done a good job of communicating shelter. As
far as form goes, your line breaks are also very effective, especially
in the last stanza: "from solid to spirit / to give her what she needs /
to give the children..." Thanks for including me in the blog. You
probably would make a good homeschooler."
Thanks for this insightful review, Sarah! You'd make a good homeschooler, too.