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September 24, 2013

Recently I have been posting my “Top Ten References to Nature by Emily Dickinson.”  So far I have posted entries 10 through 2, so below is numero uno. However, before any drum roll and the unveiling of my top-rated reference, let me say a few words about two poems by E. E. Cummings.

In the past, when I introduced poetry units to students, I would always start by using two works by E. E. Cummings, “l(a” (see my blog post HERE) and “old age sticks” (see my post HERE). Students always love the innovative approach Cummings used with the structure and placement of words and letters to create effect and understanding beyond the surface meaning. Students are always excited by his inventive use of language, and they are inspired by their own varied interpretations. To maintain their enthusiasm and interest, I often follow the lessons on Cummings with an exercise centered around a poem by Emily Dickinson, the top-rated poem on my “Top Ten References to Nature by Emily Dickinson.” Before I actually share the poem with them – or even the first line – here’s what I do: I project a picture of a crescent moon, and I challenge the class to see if they can figure out the exact image that Dickinson used to describe it. The students are intrigued and begin to offer ideas which could suggest a crescent moon: a canoe; a banana; a hammock; the letter “C”; an apostrophe or comma; and so on.

What does a crescent moon look like to you?

In my experience, the list of ideas can grow quite extensively, but students never guess that Dickinson’s crescent moon is a chin — an image that works beautifully as her metaphor progresses: The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Face Upon the World below— That image – the face of the moon turning full-on toward the Earth – tops my “Top Ten” list.

I will admit, though, that when presenting this poem in its entirety there can be issues with vocabulary and comprehension. However, that’s where the shared experience of reviewing Cummings’ “l(a” comes in handy because the students will easily recall the lesson learned about taking time to appreciate and consider concepts that are not entirely obvious from the start.

Here’s the entire poem:

September 14, 2013

Recently I have been posting my “Top Ten References to Nature by Emily Dickinson.”  To date I have posted entries 10 through 4.  Some of my entries have had connections – albeit negligible ones – to the field of education, others have not.   Entry number 3 on my list, below, has no connection to education; instead, it is wholly a glorification of the sun:

The Sun — just touched the Morning — The Morning — Happy thing — Supposed that He had come to dwell — And Life would all be Spring! She felt herself supremer — A Raised — Ethereal Thing! Henceforth — for Her — What Holiday! Meanwhile — Her wheeling King — Trailed — slow — along the Orchards — His haughty — spangled Hems — Leaving a new necessity! The want of Diadems! The Morning — fluttered — staggered — Felt feebly — for Her Crown — Her unanointed forehead — Henceforth — Her only One! 

In some of my previous selections, Dickinson has portrayed the sun as amazing – but humble;  constant – but indifferent;  friendly – but mysterious; independent – but sensitive.  In “The Sun – just touched the Morning,” the Sun is glorified as magnificent.

The poem is told from the perspective of “the Morning” who flutters and staggers in the presence of the glory of the Sun.  The sunrise is, in fact, so impressive that the Morning hopes that he has “come to dwell – and Life would all be Spring!”  In the company of the Sun, the Morning feels herself “supremer” – and “Henceforth – for Her – What Holiday!”

Hmmm…perhaps this poem could have a possible connection to education after all.  If the Sun were to establish that “Life would all be Spring,” then maybe we could exist perpetually in Spring Break? 

September 10, 2013

Some lyrics I once wrote for a Christmas song referenced all four seasons in just four short lines: 

From the shortest days of winter To the greenest days of spring To the hot July's in the summertime To the first frost autumn brings

What’s your favorite season?  Do you prefer the cool days of autumn over a sizzling stretch of summer?  Do you favor a quiet winter snowfall to a spectacle of springtime blooms?

Emily Dickinson’s acclamation to nature, “I taste a liquor never brewed” – where she adulates the splendor of an expanse of summer days – is #4 on my list of “Top Ten References to Nature by Emily Dickinson”:

I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue. When the landlord turn the drunken bee Out of the foxglove's door, When butterflies renounce their drams, I shall but drink the more! Till seraphs swing their snowy hats, And saints to windows run, To see the little tippler Leaning against the sun!

During a picture-perfect day of your favorite season, are you “Inebriate of air”?  Do you drink up the magnificence until like a “little Tippler,” you have to lean “against the Sun”?  Dickinson’s clever and creative comparison of her response to the beauty of the natural world to “drunkenness” is what landed this poem in the #4 slot on my list!

September 3, 2013

I don’t watch horror movies as a rule, but I did watch “Shaun of the Dead” recently because it’s billed as a zombie comedy – and I do want to be prepared for the coming Zombocalypse (Zombie Apocalypse).  I’m just not into “blood and guts” films – or should I say “blood and guts and brains” – but “Shaun of the Dead” did provide a lot of laughs. 

A particularly funny scene early in the film – when Shaun (played by Simon Pegg) commuted  to work –  foreshadowed the coming Zombocalypse.  As Shaun slogged to work, he and the other brain-dead and weary commuters on the sidewalks and public transportation looked more zombie-like than human.

What do zombies have to do with my “Top Ten References to Nature by Emily Dickinson”?  It’s the zombie-like behavior of Jack Frost in the #6 poem on my list:

Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on. The sun proceeds unmoved, To measure off another day, For an approving God.

Nature, in Dickinson’s poetry, is often portrayed as beautiful (A something in a summer’s noon – A depth – an Azure – a perfume –  Transcending ecstasy), gentle (Nature – the Gentlest Mother is Impatient of no child), delicate (I’ll tell you how the Sun rose – A Ribbon at a time), and prodigious (Spending Scarlet, like a Woman).

In a letter to Thomas Wentworth Higginson, though, she noted that “Nature is a Haunted House,” and she often depicted nature as mysterious, inscrutable, and indifferent.  In “Apparently with no surprise,” for example, frost – the blond assassin – beheads the “happy flower” like an unrelenting zombie in “Shaun of the Dead” (and other zombie movies) – and just moves on “to measure off another day.”  

So this poem has no particular connection to education like entries #10 (HERE) and #9 (HERE) – unless you happen to walk through your school like a zombie merely "to measure off another day."  I trust, though, that that is not the case!