Community and Individual

If you're a college professor who has never mandated that your students meet with you individually at least once during the semester for a significant amount of time (say, at least 20 minutes), you should try it. Once a semester, I'll cancel class for the week and meet with each of my students in half-hour blocks. I usually try to schedule this such that we can discuss the most difficult project of the semester. In a composition course, that's the third one, wherein they identify/contextualize a problem in their local communities and offer a solution to said problem. In literature, it's an earlier paper, generally because I introduce literary theory (e.g. Feminism, Marxism, Structuralism) at a pretty early point. In creative writing, it depends on my feel for the class - things tend to be more fluid in my creative writing courses than the others, and I try in any course to react to the needs of my students.

As far as the writing projects are concerned, the sessions are always helpful. I have the opportunity to ask pointed questions and really get individuals thinking in new ways that aren't impossible but are more difficult in the classroom. I can tailor my critiques to their personalized grammars/styles, their topics. Those who are afraid to raise their hands in class to request clarification are always willing to do so in a one-on-one situation. It's good for the paper, which is good for the grading as well (for those of you wondering if it's worth the extra effort up front).

Just as importantly, I actually get a feel for what my students want to do with their lives. I'm not taking this route as strongly here at UNE as I did at Texas A&M, but it's still a question I ask. What does this person want to get out of my class? Out of college? Out of life? At A&M, much to my chagrin, the advisors were overworked and let too many students fall through the cracks. I remember talking to a senior in a CW class of mine who was actually interested in journalism. Nobody had suggested to this student to try getting an internship with the local paper. Nobody had suggested working with the school paper. Nobody had taken any interest other than to note that the journalism program had been disbanded earlier. Even at that stage, nobody suggested that perhaps transferring prior to senior year might have been the best course of action. They just shunted this student into English classes because, hey, it's all language-based, right? That's wrong. UNE is small enough that I don't see the same problem happening. I'm also reticent to jump in before I understand the culture here more thoroughly. But really, somebody should be asking these young men and women to examine their dreams, not just dream them. That's part of what we do.

As my wife puts it - we encourage critical thinking, creativity, and communication. I add to that community, of which we are a part. Sometimes we best find out place in the community by interacting as individuals.

The applicability game

There's water on the Moon.

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In related news, I just finished submitting manuscripts to the Bakeless and Yale Younger Series competitions.

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In unrelated news, the feature at Stone Church was great.

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In related-to-that news, no video or audio was recorded, which is probably for the best, given my inter-poem banter. I'm not sure that one family will ever be the same...

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In unrelated news, my dad is on business in China for a few days. We're trying out Skype. I'm liking it so far, much better than telephones.

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In related-to-China news, got a new Monsterpocalypse piece, Gakura:

Yes, that's a giant ape wielding a passenger train as a flail. I love this game.

Last feature for a while

I'm featuring tonight at the Zion Hill Reading Series at Stone Church in Newmarket, NH. This will be the longest set I've had outside of classroom performances at high schools and universities - a full forty-five minutes. I plan to do the 30-minute set I did at the Cantab, Poets' Asylum, and Got Poetry, plus a Russian fairy tale that I've heard as "The Soldier and Death" but which I change up a bit and call "The Wanderer." There may be some time for an improv or two as well. I'm excited.

With any luck, the whole thing will be recorded (both audio and video). If there's video, expect me to try to turn this into a (relatively inexpensive) DVD in the near future. If there's just audio, expect tracks to appear over the next few weeks for free.

Stubby on Deck

Stubby has figured out how to jump up onto the table on our deck. He feels bigger up there, which is appropriate, since he thinks he's about twice his actual size. Or so I imagine based on his desire to wrestle with dogs that tower over him (note: wrestle, not actually fight). Apple figured out how to get on the table after watching Stubby, but I don't think she feels bigger. She actually thinks she's about half her size, based on how she always goes through the smaller of two spaces when weaving around legs and such. She's also afraid of the digital camera, so no photos of her up there.

Time and Space: Enjambment

I've commented before on this blog regarding time and space, how the primary dimension of performance poetry is time and the primary dimension of written poetry is space. In looking at long poems and poetic sequences with a strong visual element, I'm coming to revise that statement.

The long poem traditionally exists primarily in time. It consists of a narrative, which is a temporal device, moving along through events in a (generally) chronological order. If events are taken out of the time sequence, these sections are marked off as being a speech or song or flashback or otherwise made easily comprehensible within that boundary that is time. It also traditionally falls back on meter, which is a more blatant temporal device. Meter creates effects over time, whether actually out loud or in the reader's head.

The visual poem exists primarily in space. It exists on various parts of the page at once and must be negotiated not with regard to proper meter or narrative, but a piecing together that can happen at any pace whatsoever. The obvious incarnations of the visual poem, then, are creations of folks like Apollinaire, The Futurists, Cummings, and the concretists of the latter half of the 20th Century.

There are less obvious poems that ought to be called visual, though, and which blend these two states. diluvium strives for both spacial and temporal recognition. But consider any long poem that features enjambment. To enjamb is to assume a reader, not a listener. It is to force that reader back in space, not just in time. And yet the overall narrative, this being a long poem, pushes forward. This is truly hybrid work, asking us to use two very different areas of the brain. What is the first narrative poem ever to use enjambment? I don't know. I'd like to know. Google is pretty useless on this end, so someone smart out there should feel free to chime in.

Working under this concept, can I open the door to calling any of the consciously-different long poems visual ones as well? Is Whitman in the door, at least in the 1855 Leaves of Grass, because he intentionally printed the poems with their full, long lines? He published the subsequent editions with the lines shortened on the page, so that despite the preserved meter of his voice, the effect on the reader (not listener) is distinct. Do I call The Waste Land a visual poem, with its free verse ranging not through meter but through line breaks? Is it a visual poem only in contrast with the typical long poems that precedes it (do we notice its form only because that form is so different than its contemporaries and forebears)? And if the break with prior assumptions is necessary to the visual, are free verse long poems today no longer truly visual, since we've accustomed ourselves to viewing them? Do I call Alice Notley's The Descent of Alette a visual poem despite her explicit effort to create a new meter because said meter is cordoned off by the visual device "of constant" "quotation marks around" "phrases?"

More questions later, perhaps.

Remains

For those of you who are still reading/subscribing:

1. My computer died in early November. I've been borrowing a laptop, but haven't bothered to post here on it. I now have a new laptop of my very own, an HP dv4t, and I'll return to posting. Expect updates on

2. Poetry. diluvium is getting a thorough vetting by my chair right now. I'm not going to comment on that process, as I consider it something to be kept between my advisor and myself. But poetry and the editing process is definitely on my mind of late.

2b. Poetry. It's about time I start weighing in seriously on the prose/scholarly portion of my diss. I've had thoughts tumbling around for a while now, but have concentrated my efforts on the creative section. No more (or at least not to the exclusion of the scholarly stuff). Might as well put some of those thoughts up here while I'm working through them.

3. Also expect my thoughts, whether you wanted them or not, on Windows 7. I don't have it installed yet, but a free copy is coming because of the timing of my laptop purchase. I'd gotten quite used to Linux Mint, so switching back to Vista has been odd. Good news - I don't have to hack into my own iPod Touch anymore (i.e. I can run iTunes again, though I miss Amarok 1.4). Bad news - It's slower than Linux Mint. Good news - the Search option isn't as powerful as Gnome-Do (i.e. it doesn't learn which programs, folders, and files I access most often), but it's actually finding all my files correctly this time. Bad news - need to get used to fewer customization options again.

Music of the moment: Woodchopper's Ball by Woody Herman. "Blue Flame" and "Goosey Gander" are awesome. "Blue Flame" especially.

Enough Rope

I am, as I always am at this stage, a little worried about my classes. It's not undue worry, and it's not unexpected worry, but it's there. It's anticipation, excitement, concern all rolled up into one ball that will be released beginning Friday.

Their first papers are due that day, and some of them only had a paragraph (or less) written by Wednesday. This is not necessarily a problem. In fact, I'm a bit of an oddity among composition teachers I know in that I don't require an outline, then an annotated bibliography, then a draft, then everything along with a final draft in a portfolio, with each step being graded. I offer most of these steps along the way in some form, but I know that students write in very different ways. Drafting an outline is not guaranteed to be helpful, and I hate busywork in college classes. Annotated bibliographies were the bane of my existence as an undergrad, and yet they're useful for some people to organize. Instead of requiring these elements for a grade, I build in a day on which my students share with the class what information they've found so far and where they seem to be going with it. It's an informal sharing, but one that allows students

A) to find out if anyone is working on a similar project and thereby collaborate on resources
B) to practice some oral communication
C) to have a soft due date that pushes them more gently towards completion

I also build in a day on which students do group revisions, partnering up to read another person's paper aloud to that person, trading papers to look very specifically at punctuation, at evidence, at theses, at spelling, etc. Their grades will not suffer automatically if they don't have much done for that day, but it definitely benefits anyone who brings as much as possible.

For the first paper, students (freshmen especially) don't always realize the benefits. They know that their papers are not due until Friday, that there is plenty of time, that perhaps instead they'll concentrate on a biology exam. They're still thinking in high school terms, that the stick is more powerful than the carrot, to react to negative pressure instead of proactively pursuing positive feedback.

Every time I do this, I end up being pleasantly surprised by a few papers that turn out wonderfully despite having been written the night before. It's silly, but if they can make that work, I don't begrudge them. Every time I do this, I'm a little bit saddened by papers that have decent ideas but really needed another few drafts to become good. I've warned them, but it won't be real until they see their grades in about a week. As usual, some will take it in stride. Some will change their work ethic about college as a whole, which is my favorite reaction. Some will wonder why grading got so "unfair" between high school and college, which is my least favorite reaction. Most will reflect on how they went about the paper, and that's part of the lesson, too.