A quick shout-out inspired by Yes and Yes’s 9 Days of Nice…
My English teachers are the only ones I really truly REMEMBER.
- The first, Mrs Barmore, had a Magnum PI poster on the wall of her 8th grade classroom, and had us each write our own handmade books of our own poetry. It started something in me that’s never left…
- The second, Mr Lewis, in junior year honors English, had a messy mustache, would randomly play the piano, and assigned us each a poem to study & recite, one that reminded him of each of us (mine was Dickinson’s The Soul Selects Her Own Society, which I’ve included below). Still, to this day, this poem is me, so very me.
- The last one, in my second of three college go-rounds (yes I finally have a degree, but I ain’t done yet), had is writing long papers on the spot, in class, which gave me so much confidence in my words. Some people hated this – I loved it, because it relied purely on me.
A teacher I didn’t mention was a big fan of multiple drafts.
I don’t draft anymore, I trust my words.
But man do I love words…
Thank you to my teachers, and everyone else who has encouraged my words. (they are me)
The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.
Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s pausing
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.
I’ve known her from an ample nation
Then close the valves of her attention
~ Emily Dickinson