Gabcast! English 495 ESM #2
Monday, October 29, 2007
Poetry: Being the Writer VS. Being the Critic
Throughout my college career I have debated this issue. Writing poetry is completely different from analyzing it. It is a completely different perspective. At least personally, I have found that when I write poetry, I focus on being able to descriptively portray a feeling or an image through words. When analyzing, the focus tends to be more on decoding these images and finding a holistic meaning using terminology formulated for this purpose. Being able to write an essay about poetry after a few semesters of focusing on prose, made me remember this focus. It also helped me realize that poets might not necessarily intentionally create certain connections that we as critics come up with.
A poet’s intention for example be to highlight certain instances in his/her life that resulted in a life changing experience. A critic could interpret that same poem to mean that the poem is an allegory for the fall of communism. Although being a poet differs from analyzing a poem, they have one basic thing in common–to highlight an issue and interpret it through their own creative flair.
Being able to write poetry and write about poetry made me realize that highschool students hay not be able to differentiate between the two because I did not think about it until I began to analyze more closely in college. If highschool students are able to see this distinction from the beginning, they might not be so intimidated by being poetry critics.
A poet’s intention for example be to highlight certain instances in his/her life that resulted in a life changing experience. A critic could interpret that same poem to mean that the poem is an allegory for the fall of communism. Although being a poet differs from analyzing a poem, they have one basic thing in common–to highlight an issue and interpret it through their own creative flair.
Being able to write poetry and write about poetry made me realize that highschool students hay not be able to differentiate between the two because I did not think about it until I began to analyze more closely in college. If highschool students are able to see this distinction from the beginning, they might not be so intimidated by being poetry critics.
Pictures
Here are some Pictures that Highlight my interests such as the theatre, Marilyn Manson and his Watercolors, and my general "Artsyness."
Here is a Video
I want to set the mood in here. Here is a video which has my favorite classical piece presented in a refreshing new way.
The Emergent Rose Bud
Hello, my name is Norma. Welcome to my blog. I am sorry for the delay in posting my introduction, there are personal things I needed to take care of. I am glad to be back though. When I found out I had to write a blog for class, I mainly didn’t know what to make of it. In the end, I found that it would be such a great way to get rid of the many anxieties this road of becoming a teacher is leading me to.
First I have to tell you a little about myself and the events leading to me deciding to teach in order for you to realize why I want to teach. I was born in East Los Angeles in the middle of two emergent gangs and went to Catholic school virtually all my life. In school, I have to admit, I hated English. It was the most repulsive thing ever. Every-time I had to write something, I dreaded it with a passion. Reading was okay, reading was addicting. It was something to do to make the time pass as an only child with a lot of free time. But the love for writing did not hit me until Sophomore year of high school. I was sitting in my desk with my very first in-class essay prompt. I remember shaking, stuttering, and seeing, but not understanding the letters splotched onto my paper.
I had no idea what to do or how to go about finishing this assignment, until I raised up my hand and told my teacher the problem. I remember he said, “Don’t worry, its just an essay.” After he said this, for some reason I felt so much more secure and I was able to finish my essay. Unfortunately, I still failed it in the end and I felt a little “like crap” I believe is the phrase.
Then there was Junior year. I was determined to find out why I felt in love with language all of a sudden. I had to be in the honors class. That class was both the climax and demise of my life. Paper after paper after paper, I felt that it was never going to end. I would cry, I would sink my teeth into my final research packet assignments. I would curse my teacher, and in the end I decided to become and English major and create this wonderful experience for someone else. It has been a love/hate relationship with English and I, but I would never look back and change my mind.
I am a bit afraid though. I feel that the moment I have been waiting for is coming too soon. I fear not being able to deliver to my students. I fear not being interesting to them or running out of things to say. But I guess all I can do is try my best and hope a few will get bitten by the writing bug and call it a day.
First I have to tell you a little about myself and the events leading to me deciding to teach in order for you to realize why I want to teach. I was born in East Los Angeles in the middle of two emergent gangs and went to Catholic school virtually all my life. In school, I have to admit, I hated English. It was the most repulsive thing ever. Every-time I had to write something, I dreaded it with a passion. Reading was okay, reading was addicting. It was something to do to make the time pass as an only child with a lot of free time. But the love for writing did not hit me until Sophomore year of high school. I was sitting in my desk with my very first in-class essay prompt. I remember shaking, stuttering, and seeing, but not understanding the letters splotched onto my paper.
I had no idea what to do or how to go about finishing this assignment, until I raised up my hand and told my teacher the problem. I remember he said, “Don’t worry, its just an essay.” After he said this, for some reason I felt so much more secure and I was able to finish my essay. Unfortunately, I still failed it in the end and I felt a little “like crap” I believe is the phrase.
Then there was Junior year. I was determined to find out why I felt in love with language all of a sudden. I had to be in the honors class. That class was both the climax and demise of my life. Paper after paper after paper, I felt that it was never going to end. I would cry, I would sink my teeth into my final research packet assignments. I would curse my teacher, and in the end I decided to become and English major and create this wonderful experience for someone else. It has been a love/hate relationship with English and I, but I would never look back and change my mind.
I am a bit afraid though. I feel that the moment I have been waiting for is coming too soon. I fear not being able to deliver to my students. I fear not being interesting to them or running out of things to say. But I guess all I can do is try my best and hope a few will get bitten by the writing bug and call it a day.
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