I had the chance to speak to the visiting fellow during my last year of studying literature at college. I didn’t have any classes with him, but I stopped by his office to chat.<\/p>\n
I wanted to know what a fellow did. So we talked. And we discussed the nature of universities and teaching. I said, “Classes have a set way of doing things. When someone presents a piece of writing, the feedback must be ‘This part is good, this part needs work’ and then a grade. That is dishonest. Why can’t we say “This is perfect!” or “this is wholly irredeemable. Throw it out and try again”?”<\/p>\n
He agreed. And he really <\/em> agreed, because a professor in a different class said that he had told her that he and I had shared a very interesting conversation.<\/p>\n I called him out. And perhaps the only reason he could hear that I called him out was because he was a visiting fellow, and not a tenured teacher.<\/p>\n He wasn’t that far in.<\/p>\n Later, I was taking part of a writing group. It was large and full of grownups, most of whom had college degrees and lives and were on the down-sloping side of life. They were mostly retirees and of a settled and ordered existence.<\/p>\n One man brought a poem. He passed out copies and we all read it silently. The protocol was to give everyone some time to read, then go around the circle and give critiques.<\/p>\n Other people began and said “this imagery is confusing…and maybe this line break is not clear.”<\/p>\n YAWN, going through the motions.<\/p>\n But then it was my turn.<\/p>\n When I read the poem, my hair raised. \u00a0I read it three times. I said “I would not change a word of this poem. It is beautiful. I want to meet the woman it is about. No, I want to be the woman it is about. It is perfect.”<\/p>\n I could not believe that other people didn’t see what I saw. I was going to stand up and call it what it was.<\/p>\n But the organizer wouldn’t have it. “We are here to give feedback. Isn’t there something you can suggest as an improvement?”<\/p>\n I caved. I said a comma might be differently placed.<\/p>\n But I knew better. I knew that this poem was perfect. I knew that.<\/p>\n There is a place for surety in our lives. Surety is not very well tolerated, but I have to know what I know.<\/p>\n Sometimes, I know something is exactly right. And somethings are exactly wrong. Of course, this is very powerful and lovingkindness must be used throughout.<\/p>\n But it’s okay to be sure.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I had the chance to speak to the visiting fellow during my last year of studying literature at college. I didn’t have any classes with him, but I stopped by his office to chat. I wanted to know what a … Continue reading