I am from a small town in Idaho called Montpelier (not a very English name, but rather French). I lived in Idaho until I came to Utah to attend college. Now, I am very proud of my Idahoan heritage; Bear Lake County is home to genuine, hard-working people whose hearts are outreaching and sympathetic. I cannot deny, however, that language and all things literary are not held in high esteem in this area. Shakespeare is just a deranged guy in tights, and "ain't" is as common a word as "the." Trying to explain to my friends back home why I have chosen a major, career, and lifestyle of English is a difficult task. However, I'm finding that it's not really easy to explain to anyone. For someone who studies words all the time, it's interesting to me how they sometimes fail to convey what it is you want to say. But...I'm going to try!
I could just start by saying, "English isn't math, and that's good enough for me!" That would encompass a lot of my love for English, but it wouldn't cover quite everything. English, to me, is primarily a way to create empathy. Whether through reading, writing, speaking, or listening, we attempt to learn something from someone else, to feel what someone else is feeling, to weld ourselves with someone else. That might sound flowery, but aren't English major stereotypically flowery? Flowery or not, it's true.
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| MY SENIOR ENGLISH CLASS |
The Woman at the Washington Zoo
by Randall Jarrell
The saris go by me from the embassies.
Cloth from the moon. Cloth from another planet.
They look back at the leopard like the leopard.
And I. . . .
this print of mine, that has kept its color
Alive through so many cleanings; this dull null
Navy I wear to work, and wear from work, and so
To my bed, so to my grave, with no
Complaints, no comment: neither from my chief---
Only I complain, . . . this serviceable
Body that no sunlight dyes, no hand suffuses
But, dome-shadowed, withering among columns,
Wavy beneath fountains--small, far-off, shining
In the eyes of animals, these beings trapped
As I am trapped but not, themselves, the trap,
Aging, but without knowledge of their age,
Kept safe here, knowing not of death, for death--
Oh, bars of my own body, open, open!
The world goes by my cage and never sees me.
And there come not to me, as come to these,
The wild beasts, sparrows pecking the llamas' grain,
Pigeons settling on the bears' bread, buzzards
Tearing the meat the flies have clouded. . . .
Vulture,
When you come for the white rat that the foxes left,
Take off the red helmet of your head, the black
Wings that have shadowed me, and step to me as man:
The wild brother at whose feet the white wolves fawn,
To whose hand of power the great lioness
Stalks, purring. . . .
You know what I was,
You see what I am: change me, change me!
Well, we read that poem in class, and a girl, whom we had all known as super-shy since preschool, who never spoke in class, who never volunteered to share anything, rose her hand to speak. With tracks of tears lining her cheeks, she told us that she felt like this lady when she wrote, "The world goes by my cage and never sees me." She felt imprisoned, anonymous, overlooked, forgotten. Well, most of us had gone through school thinking she had wanted it that way. How stupid of us. No one wants to be ignored or friendless. Anyhow, knowing this, many more of us invited her to do things with us on the weekends, to go to TacoTime with us during lunch, and to speak up more in class. We found out she was brilliant. Yes, brilliant...and kind and funny beyond all belief! She is still one of my very best friends, and she is preparing to graduate from USU with a journalism degree this spring. All of this, because she knew that someone out there felt the same as she, and that person took the time to put it in writing. Empathy gives way to miraculous events.
Now, I understand that there is more to English than just feeling some tingly feeling when you read a book or a poem. It's all about that broad umbrella term "literacy." I see literacy as a person's interaction with a text (whether that be the written word, an image, an oral story, an advertisement, a home mortgage, a restaurant menu, etc.) that allows for personal satisfaction, the ability to function in society, and the understanding to enable change and growth in the world. To be literate is to be smart! Not smart as in the Ken-Jennings-trivia-kind-of-smart (although I really do think Ken Jennings is a genius), but smart in that you can "read" the world and make smart decisions accordingly. Obviously I think literacy relates fully to English. I think we can pretty much sum up a day in English class as a day in Literacy class.
Believe it or not, there is more to me than just English. I do occasionally put down my book to adventure out into the world. For instance, I love the Utah Jazz. I love watching the games, going to the games, and even thinking about the games. I also enjoy booing Lebron James and Kobe Bryant. I also love to sing. I sing quite a bit at graduations, funerals, in churches, and most of all, in my truck. My truck is the sacred place for belting out country songs (especially those sung by Kenny Chesney). In addition, I very much enjoy traveling. Just a few places I have been: Italy, England, France, Germany, Switzerland, Mexico, Jamaica, Haiti, and many states on the east and west coasts. I am on my way to Israel, Egypt, Turkey, and Greece in October. So excited. I am also a big fan of small-town entertainment, mainly rodeos and demolition derbies. I don't know why, but watching guys get bucked off bulls and seeing cars become mangled masses of metal excites me. Other hobbies of mine include crocheting, playing piano, painting ceramics, Swedish weaving, mowing the lawn, baking (and eating!) cheesecake, and shopping at thrift stores.
