Monday, January 26, 2009

Blast from the past

A couple of weeks back, I wrote a poem about a certain teacher who had squashed my poetry hopes and efforts 28 years ago. In fact, I wrote two poems. In one, I tried to be funny. In neither did I try to be nice.

Tonight, while going through old things, I found the evaluation sheet from that teacher. Why did I save it? In my 20s I frivolously saved everything.

In all fairness, it probably wasn't as disdainful as I remember it. I'm not sure. Tonight I just scanned it—at least, after the first part of the first sentence:

"None of your poems except probably number 3 is a total failure…"

Blast? Flattening.

If you are a younger or a newer poet—or any human being—and you encounter a comment like that, take a deep breath and wait a few days or a few years before you decide what you're going to do with it.

As I said, tonight I just scanned it—and it looks like the sweeping devastation ends toward the end. I'll wait a few more days or a few more years and then read through it. Maybe it isn't too late to learn something from that experience.


P.S. I was, after all, so lucky. A few quarters later, I wandered into Nelson Bentley's class and felt like I could write again. The memory stayed, but the poetry began again.

6 comments:

Michael A. Wells said...

What a cool story. I suppose if we all think back to one thing or another in our past life, there is a lesson there for us all.

Thanks for sharing this story.

Dana said...

Here's what did me in in 1999 and led to my seven-year break from writing. (I actually planned to never, ever write poetry again, ever, because of this comment from my teacher at the time):

"Ventings of high school sophmore [yes, spelled that way]. A pastiche of chest-pounding "Ain't I hip, ain't I clever?" You're beating a dead horse with a broken stick."

Man oh man. That's one neat-o comment.

Joannie Stangeland said...

OUCH!

T. said...

Early on, I enrolled for a class taught by a visiting poet and was dismayed when, after submitting a MS, discovered that my name was not on the list of "accepted" students -- this was an undergraduate university class and I doubt that she really even had the right to reject students. Stunned, I knocked on her office door and talked my way into the class. What a mistake! She was the Queen of Slice & Dice, sending many students (both men and women) from the class in tears on a daily basis. I'm not sure what she hoped to achieve by her cruelty, but it certainly opened my eyes and toughened my poetic skin. I won't name her, but will admit I've not read her poetry since 1977.

Kelli Russell Agodon - Book of Kells said...

Joannie,

his initials weren't DW were they? He squashed me in 1992. Another poet (LB) gave me my groove back. ;-)

Funny, my word verification tonight is "crumb" (as in throw me a ... )

Joannie Stangeland said...

Not DW. It was a visiting poet (who, I think, didn't really want to be there at all).

But I'm so glad another poet helped you get your groove back.