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| Tuesday, September 07, 2010 |
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As long a God doesn’t require us to recite poems verbatim on judgment day sounds like you will be OK. |
Maybe if you had said “Poems are made by fools like the persona in this poem written by Joyce Kilmer” it would have been okay? Your teacher was probably just trying to teach that the voice in the poem is not necessarily that of the author … ;) |
Y’know, I think this gives me a whole new perspective on a lot of your posts and comments. :-) Seriously, that’s a great story. Good fer ya. I was terrified of my sixth grade teacher, whose name (I kid you not) was Ms. Seeman. And, no, the obviously puns and jokes never occurred to me. ..bruce.. |
I’m reminded once again of the bit in A River Runs Through It where Norman Maclean says that as a young man he proved he was tough by becoming part of tough institutions like logging camps; his brother Paul proved he was tough by being above any institution. If you haven’t read it, you would love the part where Paul refuses to eat oatmeal, and their father is shaken to discover 1) that a son of his would hate oatmeal, and 2) that he is unable to budge the will of a five-year-old boy who has decided he won’t eat oatmeal. |
I’m with bfwebster — I suddenly understand, and have far more respect, for other DKLishness. Unlike bfwebster, I still don’t see any puns and jokes about a name that makes the poor woman sound like a sailor. |
Stare down God? Sounds like someone needs a divine D&C 121 karate chop. |
Professionally speaking, you sound like a nightmare of a student. The kind we might secretly like, but cannot condone their behavior for fear of it infecting other students. I am guessing your parents are bona fide saints. |
Somewhere along the path of my education, one of my teachers somewhere made it clear to all of the students in the class that Kilmer’s “Trees” was one of the worst poems ever written in the history of this planet. Which point, obviously, has stuck with me to this very day. |
That is a great story, one that I would proudly tell my children. If I had been the principal, I would have laughed until my sides hurt. I am absolutely astonished at how often adults will allow themselves to be drawn into power struggles with children. |
Now that is a great story – thanks for that. |
I always thought Emily Dickinson wrote that. |
FWIW, I think God will be far more ammused by his creations than we would think. He would probably make Joyce own her words. My 1st grade teacher’s name was Ms. Morman. And no, she wasn’t. My second grade teacher’s name was Mrs. Gontier, which as it turned out was some sort of sick onomatopoeia. Perhaps it is just transference from the years of resentment of the woman, but her name sounds as disgusting as she was as a teacher. |
I never cared for Joyce Kilmer, but more for Geddy Lee. “The Trees” (Rush) There was unrest in the forest, The trouble with the maples, There was trouble in the forest, So the maples formed a union |
It doesn’t sound like Mrs. Wilson knew you very well DKL. For better or worse, you won’t be facing that particular challenge on judgment day. |
Have you considered some sort of anger management program? |
I have a colleague (we both worked at PricewaterhouseCoopers, though in different cities) who name was Jack Morman. No, really. He wasn’t LDS, but I never asked him if he knew what a “Jack Mormon” was, since I suspected he had probably already heard about it, oh, roughly 500 times. ..bruce.. |
Ah, the power struggles of children. In second grade I had a kind yet personal lesson from my teacher on the restrictions of the Jehovah’s Witness religion during lunch recess shortly befor Thanksgiving. I didn’t want to make a paper turkey, but was told I had to participate in the class art activity and was assigned to pass out the brown paper. I was adament to the point of bullying when I told a JW classmate, who had politely refused the paper, that, “If I had to make a paper turkey, she was GOING to make a paper turkey, too.” She didn’t, I did. I started teaching my children to cook early. I don’t power struggle in the morning, my 10 year old son makes his own eggs and toast or hot cereal on the stove, and I don’t have to listen to “I don’t want that today.” |
Your teacher was probably just trying to teach that the voice in the poem is not necessarily that of the author … ;) So teachers should teach students that a writer isn’t responsible for their words and voice and persona? Cool. I’m really a 20-something heiress whose daddy’s a GA. |
I remember the poem “I’m Nobody! Who Are You?” by Emily Dickinson. We read it in 7th grade, and for some reason, my friend and I thought it was the dumbest poem we had ever heard. So we decided to memorize it. So we could make fun of it whenever we wanted. To this day I can recite it 95% correct (I did have to cheat and look it up, but I was pretty close) I’m nobody! Who are you? How dreary to be somebody! |
I always looked at translations of foreign poetry and thought, “wow, that’s really exotic stuff; it must really be more interesting to read poetry in a foreign language”. Then I learned Spanish and found that I was half-right. Neruda and Mistral, yes. But there’s a lot of drivel in foreign languages too… |
I think DKL had a thing for Mrs. Wilson. |
A rest area (ie a gas stop and a court full of restaurants) on the New Jersey Turnpike in East Brunswick, near the poet’s birthplace is named for him. When you enter its enclosed, entrance-vestibule, you can find hung on a side wall a plaque with the poem on it, next a framed black-and-white photograph of Kilmer. Then, you look him up on the Internet and find that he wrote at the very tale-end of the Romantic period, dying in World War I in his early thirties. You also find that a contributor to Wikipedia has quoted from some scholar’s journal piece from 1997, where s/he says
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“Kilmer had been reading about trees in another context [,] the movement to stop child labor and set up nursery schools in slums. [ . . . ] Margaret McMillan . . . had the happy idea that a breath of fresh air and an intimate acquaintance with grass and trees were worth all the pencils and desks in the whole school system. [ . . . ] The English word for gymnasium equipment is ‘apparatus.’ And in her book Labour and Childhood (1907) you will find this sentence: ‘Apparatus can be made by fools, but only God can make a tree.’” In a 1915 interview, Kilmer’s son “pointed out that while Kilmer might be widely known for his affection for trees, his affection was certainly not sentimental – the most distinguished feature of Kilmer’s property was a colossal woodpile outside his home. The house stood in the middle of a forest and what lawn it possessed was obtained only after Kilmer had spent months of weekend toil in chopping down trees, pulling up stumps, and splitting logs. Kilmer’s neighbors had difficulty in believing that a man who could do that could also be a poet.” |
danithew: I think DKL had a thing for Mrs. Wilson. Now that’s funny! She was about 4 feet tall, morbidly obese, and had a huge mole on her cheek. She had a perfectly round head with short grey hair. |
Justmeherenow, thanks for the info. Very interesting. As it happens, I’ve often purchased gas at that rest stop when I drive my family from Boston to DC. |
Thanks, David. In the Wikipedia article footnote is a link ( http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/1146.html )to a 2004 parody by somebody who apparently shares your childhood estimation of Kilmer’s poetry: (For Mr. Joyce Kilmer) He thinks that he will never see But poems charm and poems please, A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed Can hardly look at God all day, Where are her eyes, mouth, arms, and head? Can that same tree in Summer wear Perhaps her arms (or legs?) are hairy. That bosom on which snow has lain? Unless . . . a hairy bosom too? One line is good. I can’t complain Bad poems persist; they sadden me. —-DAVID L. HOOVER |
Hoover isn’t much of a botanist; trees obtain food through their leaves, not their roots. |
“Trees” by Joyce Kilmer: http://poetry.elcore.net/CatholicPoets/KilmerJ/KilmerJ37.html |
Left Field: Hoover isn’t much of a botanist; trees obtain food through their leaves, not their roots. Then how does fertilizer work? And what’s the use of crop rotation? |
Let me have a go at literary criticism (sort of). In DLHoover’s “interpretive travesty,” as he calls it, of Joyce Kilmer’s poem “Trees,” Hoover notes that Kilmer has seen no poem so lovely as a tree. But this poem “Trees” — something about the beauty of Nature and the sublimity of God — is awful. The tree talked about is one moment having its mouth pressed to the earth and the next is described as having its leafy arms praising God. Maybe its the tree’s legs that are lifted up. It’s leaves are hair? Maybe its hairy legs — that’s scary! the poems metred lines continuing in the vein, producing quite a zoological specimen. Well, there’s line about the tree’s becoming intimate with rain; sounds like a party there — Hoover’s down with that! But sentimental poems just make Hoover sad; and he wryly states such art cannot have true connection to diety. ____ According to Kilmer’s famous verse, no poem is as sublime as a tree. Yes, in a way, trees are like humans. After all, both a nurtured by the physical universe; both acknowledge God, albeit a tree’s doing it unceasingly…. And throughout their seasons both a tree and a woman are both adorned in marvelous attire, turned out gayly in the spring and also remaining beautiful as they shiver in a pale repose in Winter, with throughout all seasons their both consorting with rain (or at least their washing their entire bodies with water). Indeed human attempts at sublimity are foolishness compared to that sublimity manifested by God manifested within His natural creations. |
(Edited): Let me have a go at literary criticism (sort of). In DLHoover’s “interpretive travesty,†as he calls it, of Joyce Kilmer’s poem “Trees,†Hoover notes that Kilmer has seen no poem so lovely as a tree. But this poem “Trees†— something about the beauty of Nature and the sublimity of God — is awful. The tree talked about one moment having its mouth pressed to the earth, the next raising its arms, praising God. Maybe its the tree’s legs that are lifted up. Its leaves are hair? Geez, maybe it has got hairy legs — that’s scary — with the poem’s metered lines continuing on in the vein, in the production of quite a zoological specimen! Well, there’s line about the tree’s becoming intimate with rain; sounds like a party there — Hoover’s down with that! But sentimental poems just make Hoover sad; and he wryly states such art cannot have true connection to diety. ____ According to Kilmer’s famous verse, no poem is as sublime as a tree. Yes, in a way, trees are like humans. After all, both a nurtured by the physical universe; both acknowledge God, albeit a tree’s doing so unceasingly…. Throughout their seasons both a tree and a woman are both adorned in marvelous attire, turned out gayly in the spring and also remaining beautiful as they shiver in a pale repose in Winter, with throughout all seasons their both consorting with rain (or at least their washing their entire bodies with water). Indeed human attempts at sublimity are foolishness compared to that sublimity manifested by God within His natural creations. |
(Final version…I’m such a fool!!): Let me have a go at literary criticism (sort of). In DLHoover’s “interpretive travesty,†as he calls it, of Joyce Kilmer’s poem “Trees,†Hoover notes that Kilmer has seen no poem so lovely as a tree. But this poem “Trees†— something about the beauty of Nature and the sublimity of God — is awful. The tree talked about is one moment having its mouth pressed to the earth, the next is having its arms raised in praise of God. Maybe its the tree’s legs that are lifted up. Its leaves are hair? Geez, maybe it has got hairy legs — that’s scary — with the poem’s metered lines continuing on in the vein, in the production of quite a zoological specimen! Well, there’s a line about the tree’s becoming intimate with rain; sounds like a party there — Hoover’s down with that! But sentimental poems just make Hoover sad; and he wryly states such art cannot have true connection to diety. ____ According to Kilmer’s famous verse, no poem is as sublime as a tree. Yes, in a way, trees are like humans: After all, both a nurtured by the physical universe. Both acknowledge God, albeit a tree’s doing so unceasingly. Throughout their seasons a tree and a woman are both adorned in marvelous attire, turned out gayly in the spring and also remaining beautiful as they shiver in a pale repose in Winter, with throughout the year their both consorting with rain (or at least their washing their entire bodies with water). Human attempts at sublimity are foolishness compared to that sublimity manifested by God within His natural creations. |
It has been interesting to read the many reactions that people have had to this story. I don’t feel super comfortable responding to statements about me that are of a serious personal nature, so I’ve let most of the comments here go unanswered. Even so, I don’t mean to give the impression that I don’t enjoy hearing all of the responses here. I don’t live in the past, and I believe that my greatest glory days remain in my future. I posted this story because I recently reconnected with an old friend who surprised the heck out of me by reminding me of my antics in elementary school. Here’s something he mentioned involving Mr. Dwyer, another teacher we had together:
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