Pedagogy and poetry
Pedagogy - - Qwo-Li Driskill (Cherokee)
I roll out of bed too
late to take a shower
throw on whatever is clean
Each muscle bruises under the
burden of movement
As I drive to class in dawn’s dark
I worry about the cancer
cells on my little sister’s cervix
My oldest sister’s gallstones
The hepatitis C in my father’s liver
The most recent accidental carbon monoxide
poisoning that put my mother in bed for days
Pain scrapes my shoulder blades and
I am thinking about how the doctor asked
what country I was from
when I opened my mouth
and how to talk to you about Argument
I am worrying about my friend who can’t leave
the house because of toxic air
my partner’s depression and HIV
If any of the people I love will be shot in the face by police
shouted down by priests
beaten to death on the way home
If we well get away
this time
(The odds, darlings, are against us)
I am worrying about how to not get caught in
this world we’ve written
and if we should talk about Invention or
proofreading this morning
And I know there are marks on your bones
you can’t or won’t speak
scars whose names you resist
long wars fought on and over your bodies
I know that you are more worried about
finding enough pennies to buy
instant noodles for the week
than the Media Analysis due tomorrow
On the way to class
you are thinking about your mother’s cough
multiplication of cells
chemical compounds
what to tell your family that you’re learning in college
and if tonight you’re gonna say
I love you
You will arrive in class this morning
to a conversation about
ethos
pathos
logos
Use words like
power privilege oppression binary
What does this classroom have to do with you anyway?
What does it have to do with any of us?
I am here because I was tired of eating from garbage cans,
playing my flute, always one foot on the wet Seattle street
You are here because Dad said
or to finally get out of that damn town
or to survive a country
whose tongue yearns
for your blood
This class will not save you
This class will not save any of us
I pray you take some words with you
like sharpened spoons
ferry them away up your sleeves
under your tongues
I pray I can teach you
to saw through
the iron bars
of this country
This country
waiting for us
teeth
just sharpened
this morning
I roll out of bed too
late to take a shower
throw on whatever is clean
Each muscle bruises under the
burden of movement
As I drive to class in dawn’s dark
I worry about the cancer
cells on my little sister’s cervix
My oldest sister’s gallstones
The hepatitis C in my father’s liver
The most recent accidental carbon monoxide
poisoning that put my mother in bed for days
Pain scrapes my shoulder blades and
I am thinking about how the doctor asked
what country I was from
when I opened my mouth
and how to talk to you about Argument
I am worrying about my friend who can’t leave
the house because of toxic air
my partner’s depression and HIV
If any of the people I love will be shot in the face by police
shouted down by priests
beaten to death on the way home
If we well get away
this time
(The odds, darlings, are against us)
I am worrying about how to not get caught in
this world we’ve written
and if we should talk about Invention or
proofreading this morning
And I know there are marks on your bones
you can’t or won’t speak
scars whose names you resist
long wars fought on and over your bodies
I know that you are more worried about
finding enough pennies to buy
instant noodles for the week
than the Media Analysis due tomorrow
On the way to class
you are thinking about your mother’s cough
multiplication of cells
chemical compounds
what to tell your family that you’re learning in college
and if tonight you’re gonna say
I love you
You will arrive in class this morning
to a conversation about
ethos
pathos
logos
Use words like
power privilege oppression binary
What does this classroom have to do with you anyway?
What does it have to do with any of us?
I am here because I was tired of eating from garbage cans,
playing my flute, always one foot on the wet Seattle street
You are here because Dad said
or to finally get out of that damn town
or to survive a country
whose tongue yearns
for your blood
This class will not save you
This class will not save any of us
I pray you take some words with you
like sharpened spoons
ferry them away up your sleeves
under your tongues
I pray I can teach you
to saw through
the iron bars
of this country
This country
waiting for us
teeth
just sharpened
this morning