We have been discussing loss a great deal in English class. In order to begin our study of King Lear, students had to create lists of their 10 favorite things while I played the song “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music. After they made their lists, I had them “lose” -one at a time- an item off the list.
“Cross off #7,” I announced with great seriousness.
There were immediate groans from students.
“That’s Starbucks!” one whined.
“My truck!” claimed another, “How will I drive?”
“Cross off #3,” I called out.
More protestations. More groans.
“No way I am crossing off my dog,” another retorted.
Soon, their lists were down to two items each. They stirred uncomfortably; they were unsettled by the mere thought of being separated from things or people they valued.
“Maybe I value my stuff over people too much,” mused one thoughtfully looking over her list.
In this short exercise, my students conveyed some of the same sentiments that are expressed in Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “One Art”:
by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master. (continued…)
My students were struck by the repetition of the words “master” and “disaster” in the poem, a result of the villanelle* (see below) format. They noted the progression of items lost in the poem: the car keys, the watch, the houses, the cities, rivers, and finally, the loss of continents.
They noted the choice of hyphens and parentheses in the poem. The hyphen at the beginning of the final stanza was a “hesitation” according to one student, “because she doesn’t even want to write the last stanza.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because she has to command herself,” the student replied, “See the parentheses and the words ‘(Write it!)’ on the last line?”
“Why? What is she losing in the last stanza?” I asked. They called out their ideas:
“So is the art of losing hard to master or not?” I asked them. They thought, and wrote the following in their notebooks:
- “No one wants to master losing things…who wants to be a loser, literally?”
- “She is taking about the loss of physical objects in comparison to the loss of people, and no one wants to lose people…like a friend or lover.”
- “The speaker is rushing towards the end, speaking faster with ‘shan’t’ and ‘losing’s’ as if things are slipping away, and out of control, until she writes down the losses….and commits them to memory.”
- “She is trying to convince herself.”
Elizabeth Bishop’s poem brought my class back to the many themes we had been discussing in our unit on King Lear. We had spent several classes focused on the tragedy of a king who in dividing his kingdom, upends the order of the realm. In the process, he loses his daughters, his knights (protectors), his friends, his mind, and finally, his life. The students concluded that Lear was no “master of disaster.”
“Pretty cool that 19 lines can say almost the same thing as Shakespeare’s five act play,” concluded one student as he wrapped up his books to leave.
Pretty cool, Elizabeth Bishop.
*villanelle: The villanelle has 19 lines, 5 stanzas of three lines and 1 stanza of four lines with two rhymes and two refrains. The 1st, then the 3rd lines alternate as the last lines of stanzas 2, 3, and 4, and then stanza 5 (the end) as a couplet. It is usually written in tetrameter (4 feet) or pentameter.
I love this! Especially the list and its deconstruction. Where were you when I was in high school? (I guess you would have been a cave woman, since I went to school a million years ago.)
23 years of teaching…I guess teaching that long has provided me the opportunity to develop a few tricks! Thanks for taking the time to comment.
This was fabulous! I was right there with your students. I think I’d have liked having you for a teacher.
I am not entirely sure my students always feel the same when they are sitting in class, especially on a Friday, last period (that’s when we did this!) Thank you for taking the time to comment.
Pretty cool, indeed!
Even just reading about this exercise made me uncomfortable! Nicely done. Off to read more of your posts!