Sometimes I wonder: what would it be like if I blogged almost everything?
Today, then, I’d blog about a Milton seminar class in which I did most of the talking and ended rather dispirited, only to find via the class syllabus wiki that one very attentive student had not only taken it all in but transformed it into a leap forward in her own thinking by making a sharp, essential connection with another class she’s taking. (Some say that can’t happen when a teacher did most of the talking–but I’m not sure I believe that anymore, myself.) I’d blog about the Introduction to Literary Studies class that considered Judith Butler’s arguments in “Gender Trouble” about gender and sex as a Saussurean play of signs, and how they agreed and protested and fumed and laughed and gritted their teeth, and began talking to each other very intensely about how the very idea of meaning becomes tenuous in all sorts of ways. I’d blog about the Larissa Macfarquar (sp?) piece in the New Yorker about the couple who have tried to unite philosophy and neuroscience, and how I want to share that article with those students to keep ’em thinking. I’d blog about the detailed conversation I had this afternoon with a colleague who wanted to know what I knew about Hopkins and sprung rhythm, and to talk about her research on a contemporary poet who may have been working the same vein. I’d blog about fifteen other things rattling around in my head in addition to the music I hear almost constantly in there as well. I’d leave out many things, but I’d at least capture all the interesting stuff (interesting to me) in all its variety; I’d capture my “input” fascinations that ramp up so powerfully at times, especially if the times are propitious….
What would it be like to pour it all forth and hold back nothing? Not to lay bare one’s private life–I’m not terribly interested in that–but to lay bare one’s internal del.icio.us, to serve up one’s own cognitive gumbo in all its stew and savor.
I wonder.
Here’s a reading I did a couple of weeks ago for UMW’s “Thursday Poems” series. The lyrics are by Robert Herrick. You may recognize some of them. I felt rusty and not quite all the way on my game, but there may be some moments to enjoy here. I hope so.
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (13.7MB)
A teacher in grad school once told me, “when you’re teaching you never know for sure if what you’re doing has an impact. It might be years before a student realizes what they’ve learned.” You just have to do the best you can and hope it’s having an impact. Most of the time, it does. And sometimes, former students will let you know that.
C’est vrai!
In a sweet serendipity, Drew sent me a written version of Herrick’s poem “Vine” for Valentine’s Day! What a delight to read and hear it twice today. (OK–I blushed both times–how did your listeners receive it? )
I don’t know if they blushed–I was too far away, and besides, I looked down at the lectern so we could all have our privacy…. At the end, no one made a sound, so I said “that’s a joke,” and I heard a couple of nervous titters. I edited that bit out of the podcast. 🙂
I am sorry, But I have little or i believe no knowledge about music 🙁
But anyhow that’s awesome job.