The Happiness of My English Major Heart

Yesterday was a day that made my English major heart very happy.  I began with a great class teaching ways to write an introduction to my English 101 class at 9.  Yesterday our writing center opened for the semester, but it's the beginning of the term, so no one came in to help.  I brought a book with me, and I was happy for the chance to read a chunk of it.

It's a book for my seminary class called "The Rest of the Story:  Parables and Parallels."  We're reading Robert Alter's The Art of Biblical Narrative, which is more literary analysis than anything else, the old-fashioned kind, a deep dive into a text--in this case, the text is the Bible.  As I was reading, I thought about how long it had been since I read a book that was such straight ahead literary criticism.

After class, my department chair stopped by to talk to me about what kind of creative writing I do. I gave my usual answer (in brief: poetry now, because it’s short, but I used to write short stories and novels). The question was actually a warm up to what kind of creative writing classes I’d be comfortable teaching but what she wanted to know was whether or not I could teach creative nonfiction. I said yes, of course. Later I looked up the course description, and as I hoped, it’s a catch all description for all the types of writing that don’t fit other places (like blogging!). I felt thrilled and even skipped a bit on my way to the printer.

Later my chair said, “I still have questions for you.” I made sure to go to her office before she left, and she asked me about my experience teaching literature. Long story short, she wants me to teach an American Lit survey class, the second half, which is the half I like better. Hurrah!

She said, “This way, with the creative nonfiction class and the American Lit class, you can get to know some of our English majors and upper class students.” From what she said, it sounds like the rest of my schedule will be 102 classes.

When I accepted the offer of a lectureship, I thought it would be mostly writing classes, mostly first year Composition classes, and maybe if I was lucky, I'd get an English 102 course.  My schedule for Fall has been two English 101 classes and three English 100 classes--again, I thought it was a harbinger of what the year would bring.

The thought of a literature focused spring term would have been enough to make my English major heart happy, but seminary class last night gave me one last gift.  We did a guided exercise in the class that meets by way of Zoom every Monday, "Stories of Power," which is different than the one that is having us read the Alter text.  One of the professors put a Bruegel painting on the screen, without telling us the title.  She asked those of us who knew what it was not to ruin the surprise.  

We talked in detail about the painting, and when she revealed the title, "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus," we talked about the myth.  She asked who knew the story, and I waited before I raised my hand.  Could it really be possible that no one knew the myth of Icarus?

Then we talked about the two poems that reference the painting, the William Carlos Williams poem, "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus," and the poem by W. H. Auden, "Musee des Beaux Arts."  We did a very close analysis of the Auden poem, which was such a treat.  I'm used to being the one teaching it, not the one absorbing it.  It's a very different experience--but both to teach it and to be a student are such joys.

I even got an idea for a poem of my own to write, a poem told from the perspective of the sister of Icarus.  Here are the first lines:

My father made creations
out of whatever he had on hand:
scraps from the lumberyard,
spare parts, wax, feathers.

I look forward to seeing how this poem develops--one more treat for my English major heart.