Eduholic

“I can stop talking about teaching whenever I want to,” claims Emmet Rosenfeld, an English teacher at Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology in Alexandria, Va., with 15 years of experience as a teacher and writer. Until he comes to terms with his Education Problem, enjoy this wide-ranging blog on teaching and learning in his classroom and beyond.

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October 26, 2007

Spinning Plates

I like to have different books going in a class at one time. Think of a circus performer weaving precariously beneath sticks balanced on his chin, nose and outstretched index fingers.

This is not a comfortable image to some, I’m sure. The standard model, after all, is that everyone reads the same book at the same time, and discusses it together. The teacher assumes either an explicit or implicit role as Literary Authority (lion tamer?). There is value to this approach, at times. Frankly, in most cases the teacher is the authority. He can guide students to deeper understanding than they might be able to achieve themselves.

But the one book fits all approach stifles kids’ ability to become independent readers. As teachers, I think we owe it to our students to allow for authentic reading experiences where they and their peers are the arbiters of meaning, even if that means in the end that they don’t get the benefit of our Profound Understanding about, for example, the layers of symbolism in Beowulf.

Having groups of kids read a book together has plusses and minuses. What’s good about it is that they are forced to guide themselves. Their understanding is based on genuine responses by a 15-year old to a text without the filter of a seasoned teacher’s guidance. What’s bad about it is that their understanding is based on genuine responses by a 15-year old to a text without the filter of a seasoned teacher’s guidance.

It is scary to relinquish an accustomed degree of control, but by embracing a student-centered approach, we might be pleasantly surprised to find that, on our best days, we can structure activities that let kids discover most of the good stuff on their own.

Recently, my tenth graders finished reading novels in small groups, and as I type this they are working on their final projects due next week. Over the course of this post and next week’s, I want to share how I let them choose books, what they did as they read, and the assessment.

Choosing books: Pin the Title on the Excerpt

Having discovered Beowulf as a class, I decided to expose students to other epics or epic-influenced books. I picked six from our bookroom, some for their strong connections to Beowulf and others because I thought they were appealing reads for my particular batch of students. (The books were: Gilgamesh; Grendel by John Gardener; Nectar in a Sieve by Kamal Markandaya; The Once and Future King by TH White; Siddhartha by Herman Hesse; and, The Thirteenth Warrior by Michael Crichton.)

Not quite at random I copied a couple pages from each and gave the packet to kids. For each excerpt I asked them to guess what the book was about and its title, comment on the author’s use of language, then rank the choices based on which they most wanted to read. I also asked them to continue their favorite excerpt in their writer’s notebook.

When we came back to class, students shared their continuations with each other and a few read out loud to the class. Then after brief discussion of each excerpt I “revealed” the book. Finally we sorted out who wanted to read what, and each group set itself a reading assignment of the first 40 pages or so.

What they did as they read (part I): Mad Libs

The method to my madness is rooted in reader response theory, boiled down to what I call the two most important questions in literary interpretation: How does it make you feel? (Pause here, until a student cries out, “That’s only one question!”) At which point, I explain the two questions:

How does it make you FEEL? The only legitimate starting point for interpretation is a reader’s individual response to a work of art.

HOW does it make you feel? Our job is to figure out how the author manipulated language to make us feel whatever we felt.

To address the first question (How does it make you FEEL?), I began class with mad libs. Kids filled in the blanks:
Reading my book is like eating a…
Reading my book is like going to…
Reading my book is like _______ing a _______.

This generated some excitement. We continued with metaphors.
If this book were music it would be…
If this book were a type of weather it would be…
If this book were a _______ it would be_______.

I asked kids to write about their favorite mad lib, which led to scribbling and then more conversation.

The students spent the rest of class in groups discussing the second question (HOW does it make you feel?). I asked them to look at three aspects of the book, as listed below. Please excuse in advance my inability, born of perusing far too many a lit book’s table of contents, to use the term “elements of literature.”

Elephants of literature
Plot: What has happened so far? Any questions? What do you predict will happen next?
Character: Characterization is achieved by what a character says, does or thinks, or what others say, do, or think regarding that character. Discuss with reference to main characters.
Setting: How and where is it described? Does it contribute in some way to our understanding of the story?

Structure
How is the book put together?
What are the sections or divisions?
In what order are events revealed?
Is the story told chronologically or out of order? If the latter, how and why?
How might this architecture in some way affect a reader’s experience of the story?

Narrative strategy
Who narrates? In what person is the narration (1st, 3rd)?
What are characteristics of the narrator’s voice and point of view?
What is the degree of omniscience (limited/ partial or fully omniscient)?
What are the limits of what the narrator knows or tells?
What has the author gained or lost by this narrative strategy?

Stay tuned next week for the second installment of “What they did as they read” and the thrilling saga of assessment, featuring Triple Fishbowls and an Epic Experience.

October 21, 2007

Write More, Prep Less

Or, Teach and the Net Will Appear

Oh, to be perfect. Last Thursday, a series of unfortunate events conspired to prove once again that I’m not. A Wednesday early release for kids, something I’d anticipated as a break, except I forgot that giving inservice presentations to colleagues might leave me feeling zonked at the end of the day. “You just lost your planning period,” pointed out the artful Roger.

Then a purple marble comp book went missing, the one in which I do free writes along with kids, and take notes at every meeting, and plan my days and lessons and even chapters of a book I haven’t written. Darn thing had the whole Odyssey unit sketched out in it I had reworked after reviewing last year’s notes.

Then there was soccer practice after school. And Ethiopian with my parents that night. And, Thursday just happened to be the morning I had agreed to drive the boys to school, which made me late for the JLC meeting I would have seriously considered skipping to do some last minute planning and xeroxing.

So, there I was. In front of the first of three hundred minute blocks in a row with ninth graders whose homework had been to bring the Odyssey to class for the start of our big unit. I hadn’t even had the chance to take a proper leak, much less prepare a neatly gift-wrapped, here’s a calendar with every day from now until New Year’s kind of unit that type-A teachers around here tend to crank out. Whose fault was it other than my own?

Nohbody’s. (Odyssey joke, not a typo). And what did I do? The same thing friends and I used to say we would do if we were ever plopped down in front of a class for which we had no preparation and didn’t even know what the subject was (one of those what-if’s that only teachers would talk about around a lunch table). “Good morning, class. Please open your notebook, put today’s date in the upper right corner, and get ready to write.”

In this case, there were two choices of what to write about. If you’d read the Odyssey before or knew something about it, you could write what you knew. If you’d never read it and were entering table rasa... write about that. What do you think, expect, wonder about the book?

There followed blessed minutes of scribbling, during which I cleared my head and jotted discussion points for the rest of the lesson while my students wrote variously about their experiences or lack thereof with Homer. After, I held up two dry erase markers: “This green marker is called ‘I know,’” I began, “and this blue one is called ‘I want to know.’” Hands were already in the air.

“Each student needs to write down either an I know or an I wanna know on the board. After you write it, explain your idea to the class.” The first two volunteers had already ripped the Expos from my hand.

What followed was a better unit kickoff than any I could have planned. Kids who were pros shared some of the highlights of the story including background on the Trojan War and the Iliad. Kids who were clueless asked great questions like, “Why is this a poem?” and “What made Odysseus a hero?”. Needless to say, we had plenty of fodder for conversation. Added bonus, I got a chance to assess the comfort level of every student in the room and thus can target future activities more directly.

After our magic marker roll call, we still had time enough to closely read the opening of the poem, with special emphasis on the first word, “Sing...”, allowing me to fill in gaps about the origins and performance of the piece. And for good measure, each student read a stanza out loud to get the flow going so kids would remember to approach it as a verdant story and not a bunch of confusing spindly trees when they continued the reading on their own for homework.

All in all, both the kids and I survived the impromptu lesson rather well, and they are now off and running with a sense of ownership and excitement that an intimidatingly detailed unit description might have dampened.

Maybe I got by because I’ve taught the book for the past couple years and feel comfortable with it. But I like to think that relying on writing to learn was the key, a method that allows each kid to feel validated in their ideas. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not my habit to be underprepared when I stand up in front of the room. But then again... maybe it should be.


October 12, 2007

Teachers on a Plane

Grading class sets of an assignment can be compared to a snake swallowing a rabbit. There’s a large lump that moves slowly through the serpent’s body; the beast becomes rather sluggish until the digestive process completes itself.

Unfortunately, we teachers don’t have the luxury of sunning ourselves on a rock until the sheaf of papers is gone. Our kids keep showing up, day after day. We not only have to give them new stuff to do each time they appear, they inconveniently produce lots of things along the way that require our attention.

Managing not just the paper load, but the whole sin curve rhythm of plan-do-assess, is one of our job’s great challenges, regardless of grade level or subject. One way that I am trying to do that now is by staggering due dates in writer’s workshop. Instead of making all papers due on the same day, there are individual due dates for each student.

Here’s how it works. Instead of picking a due date for the whole class, I ask one or two group members at a time to bring their papers (in our case, we are writing personal narratives). On that day, their writing group focuses only on those papers. The student writers benefit by getting a lot of attention; if we tried to workshop four or five papers at a time, the kids who go later in the order wouldn’t get the group’s best feedback.

One drawback is that if the assigned student doesn’t show up with multiple copies of a draft for workshopping, the group is stuck. With judicious use of carrots and sticks it generally works, especially once the kids have done it and enjoyed the feeling of being the star for the day of their writing group. Being willing to run to the copy machine (I’m generally not) or reshuffling kids is another way to cover when a kid messes up.

Once a student’s paper is workshopped, they have a week to revise it and hand it in to me. I promise to turn it back within a week, which is a promise I can keep if I read a few papers a day. That requires consistency, but not the soul-numbing work of going through a whole class set, or worse, several class sets of something if you happen to teach the same prep for more than one period.

Once I hand it back, they have another week to hand in the final copy. Or, if they’ve made major revisions, they can take it back to their writing group one more time, and then hand it in within a week of that second workshop. This is a lot of back and forth, I know, but look how many chances a student has to get it right. Most want to, you know, just like we as teachers like to have the time and support to do the best job we can in planning our curriculum. Notice also that peer feedback is privileged over teacher feedback. I’m the second reader, not the first.

With all these stages, how do I keep track of due dates? I’m trying something simple: a quarter calendar that stays in the writing folder on which students record dates when they workshop, submit a revised paper, receive comments from me, and hand in a final draft.

By giving a week for each stage of the process, I can glance at the calendar and quickly see if a kid is hitting his due dates. Also, by the time the piece comes to me for final marking (I’m still trying to figure out how to avoid that step), I’m already familiar with it and have given feedback. Much easier to move through the digestive track. To boot, I ask students to attach a revision narrative with their final draft that discusses the choices and changes they made along the way. Attached below is the current version of my writing record including directions for a revision narrative (omitted is the quarter calendar I pop on the back of the page).

The system isn’t perfect, but so far this year I’ve already made it through interim time without suffering from that “I just ate a huge rabbit and now I can’t move” feeling. I invite my non-reptilian colleagues out there to share strategies about how to manage teacher workload. So many rabbits to eat… so little time.

Writing Record
Mark these dates on the calendar on the back, using the key provided.
WS #1 Workshop #1
REV #1 Revised draft given to Mr R (one week after workshop)
RET Date returned to student with teacher comments/conference
WS #2 Workshop #2 (optional)
FINAL Due 1-2 weeks after return (depending whether you workshop)
Final must be submitted with revision narrative

Revision Narrative
One page (3-4 par): Describe significant challenges and revisions about each stage of the process including original draft, peer workshop, and revisions based on teacher feedback. Refer to specific changes, both structural or in use of language, drawing on notes and written comments as well as what you remember. Consider how you revised to achieve these aspects:
Creates and resolves tension that draws the reader through the piece
Slows down and expands at important moments
Shows awareness of audience by making the piece accessible to a lay reader
Personal story sheds light on a larger issue

Personal Narrative Eval
_____Show not tell: uses sensory imagery to create a vivid snapshot of experience
_____Control of language and pace, displays polished style and voice
_____ “Emotional digestion”: author-participant extracts significance beyond retelling
_____ MUGS (mechanics, usage, grammar, spelling)
_____ Process: insightful revision narrative, writing record on time and complete
_____ TOTAL (100)

October 6, 2007

Write More, Grade Less

Or, I Never Metacognition I Didn’t Like

After hacking our way through Beowulf in a tenth grade class, I was panting behind my sturdy linden shield wondering what to do at The End. You know, some kind of culminating activity that says, We have done this book. God forbid, one can’t just read and move on in an English class. Where’s the grade in that?

Because I’m the sort of enlightened despot who doesn’t give tests, I tend to rely on a project or a paper. In this case, I decided to experiment by assigning a paper about the reading experience itself rather than a traditional literary analysis. I did this because of what I had observed along the way about what my kids could and could not do well.

First, during a class activity where we made shields that dissected a verse into plot, literary elements, themes, and questions, I realized that the quality of literary analysis was at the level of “There’s a metaphor,” or “He used alliteration here.” I’m not blaming the kids, mind you. When less than inspired work is handed in, it’s time to look at the assignment in the mirror.

A second assignment was more successful: finding 3’s. Seems simple, and it is. The idea is based on my patent-pending approach to analyzing books, which states that if you can find something repeated three times over the course of a text, be that an event or a motif of a bit of imagery, then by gum you can drum up a decent essay on it. Turns out, they found plenty of meaty 3’s, and were quite capable of writing analytically. So, other than teaching them how to use quotes correctly, both in terms of format and as evidence of literary thought, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. What are they ultimately supposed to get out of reading Beowulf?

Hence my metacognitive assignment. Watch yourself thinking as you read, I challenged them; then trace the evolution of your thought. My hunch was that this would ultimately lead them to write beyond the normal competent but bland literary analysis most can crank out in their sleep. By seeing themselves in the mirror of a classic poem, ideally their literary responses would be more readable. Gasp. Yes, I confess. I’m in search of interesting student papers, and I’ll stop at nothing to get them. A teacher of writing could be accused of worse crimes.

But it does get worse. Not only do I not want to read boring stuff, I don’t want to grade fifty papers at one shot. Sure, I’ll read them. In fact, if my evil scheme works, I’ll want to. But to be the terminal grader, the emperor with my thumb on a swivel… one man shouldn’t have so much power. But what to do? They have been trained since grade school in the dance of the classroom: teacher tells you what to do, you do it, teacher grades it. How to escape the soul-numbing paradigm?

There was only one solution: I would be the student, and they could do my job. I would write the assignment, and let them grade it. True, it didn’t get rid of all the work, but it frontloaded things. Instead of spending a few hours at the end red-penning their stuff, I spent less (but more enjoyable) time writing the assignment before it was due. In writing it, in addition to my own intellectual workout, I got to assess the assignment: was it making me do what I wanted it to make kids do?

The day the papers were handed in, kids read them to each other in groups, and as a class we determined what made a good response to this assignment. This generated a fruitful discussion about writing that would have been lost if I had simply provided the rubric in advance. After we made our list, I shared my paper. They took our class-made rubric for a test run by applying it to what I had written.

Finally, I asked students to take their papers home, and write a self-evaluation based on the agreed upon traits. They could revise their papers if they wanted to, which gave them a chance to benefit from the grading process rather than simply have it done to them. And (maniacal cackle here) it cut my grading load. Most of what I would have said to them, I bet they’ll figure out on their own.

Below, truly adventurous readers will find:
1. Discovering Beowulf (the metacognitive writing assignment)
2. a student’s response
3. Discovering Beowulf Eval (one of the class-designed rubrics)
4. and last, Does Beowulf Matter? (my response).

By the way, if you’ve made it this far, you are probably a teacher: please leave a comment if you find a way to apply this in your classrooms. Happy navel-gazing!


Discovering Beowulf
Hum I 2007/ Rosenfeld
Due Wednesday, October 3
Length: 500-1000 words

In concluding this Anglo-Saxon epic, rather than a traditional literary analysis or essay test, I ask you to write about how your views have evolved over the course of reading and discussion. With what knowledge did you approach the text, and what were your expectations? What questions were raised, answered, or still linger? Ultimately, what connections emerged, and how did your understanding deepen?

Below is a rough outline for structuring the essay including sources that captured thought at various stages of your reading. Strive to uncover truths about your personal encounter with the work as well as expressing what you know about its literary and historical aspects. Cite text, using correct conventions, at least three times.

Before I began…FW’s on epic, Reading of Odyssey, Other prior knowledge
As I read, I realized…Shi(e)ld, RR of 3’s, Class notes
Upon finishing, it’s clear…Reading notes, Beowulf bookmark, Notes on yer notes

Student response: Discovering Beowulf by Anna

Through the class reading and discussion of the epic poem Beowulf, my views on the work evolved in several ways. Before we began reading, I wrote about the way I interpret myths, legends, and epics, with the predisposition that Beowulf was a myth. Now that I reflect upon my thoughts on those forms of story telling and take into consideration the ambiguous origins of Beowulf, I come to the conclusion that Beowulf is both a legend and an epic. I believe that the story must have begun as a legend, passed down through generations of Danes and eventually written down by a Danish writer. This assumption seems logical because in legends, a truth is dramatized and exaggerated. It is possible Beowulf was a real and very celebrated warrior among his clan, about whom many embellished stories were told through the land. Since people during that time period were likely to believe in fantastical creatures, such as dragons, these elements were gradually woven into the story.

My knowledge of the story prior to reading it was largely incorrect, since reading summaries of books rarely gives you an accurate and complete impression of the work. Before I read Beowulf, I thought the main conflict would revolve around Beowulf and Grendel, without any other villains partaking in the plot. This assumption was based on the fact that I’d only heard of Grendel referred to as the iconic villain of the story. A possible cause of this might be that Grendel was the only dragon that actually had a name in the story. Another fact about Beowulf that contrasted with my initial expectations was that he was a foreign hero, someone who had come from another land to help a nation in need. I expected him to be a local hero, as epic heroes usually are. I also expected the character of Beowulf to be similar to another epic hero- Odysseus, an expectation that was fulfilled, unlike all my other ones.

The first parallel I observed between Odysseus and Beowulf was their close relationship to the divine. During battles and after victories, Beowulf always attributed the outcome of that battle to God’s will. For example, he explained his failure to immediately kill Grendel by saying “I meant to kill him…hold him so tightly that his heart would stop…But God’s will was against me.”(lines 964- 947) Even in his last living moments, Beowulf remembered to thank God for his victory- “For this, this gold, these jewels, I thank Our Father in Heaven, Ruler of the Earth.”(lines 2794-2796) Athena, the goddess of wisdom that often came to his aid in critical moments, similarly favors Odysseus. However, one crucial difference in their spirituality is Odysseus’ pagan belief in many gods, as opposed to the Christian convictions of Beowulf that there is only one God. Perhaps Beowulf’s firm beliefs were the reason he was so willing to enter battle without armor or the help of other soldiers.

Another similarity between Odysseus and Beowulf I noticed while reading Beowulf was that they were both warriors as well as kings. However, they made the transition between politics and warfare in different ways. While Odysseus became a warrior after he was king, Beowulf first had to prove himself through warfare in order to win the throne. I also noticed that Beowulf took a definite interest in politics even before he had risen to the throne. When he returned to Geatland, instead of giving a lengthy account of his victory, Beowulf talked about the marriage of Freaw, Hrothgar’s daughter and Ingeld, a foreign prince (lines 2023-2035). He expressed his opinion that marriage never ensures peace between two nations, which indicated that he is interested in peace despite his occupation as a warrior. This also shows he was contemplating the challenges of ruling even before gaining the throne.

After reading and discussing this epic poem, I still had several pending questions that I didn’t feel were answered by the text, forcing me to draw my own conclusions. For example, I felt that the book never gave the reason for Beowulf’s aid to the Danes. When Beowulf first arrives in Denmark, Hrothgar announces, “I knew Beowulf as a boy.”(line 372) It then becomes known that Hrothgar knew Egetho. However, this hardly seems like a bond strong enough to warrant such self-sacrifice on Beowulf’s part. My theory is that Beowulf’s motivation was the glory he would earn my killing the monster, the fame and fortune that would propel him further up in his countrymen’s eyes. Considering his ambitions for the throne, he attempted such feats in search for reverence and power.

The other question that lingered in my mind after reading was the reason for Beowulf’s lack of an heir. I noticed that throughout the poem, there was no mention of Beowulf’s close friends, unlike Hrothgar who had many friends and followers, such as Esher. The most poignant example of Beowulf’s lack of true friends was the final scene when “none of his comrades/Came to him, helped him, his brave and noble/Followers; they ran for their lives, fled/Deep in a wood.” Beowulf also never married or had children, suggesting that ruling his people and leading them in battle was the first priority in his life.

In process of fighting constant battles, I believe that he never stopped to evaluate people on more than their battle skills. This might have been the reason for the betrayal of his followers: they never felt any emotional ties to him, so when Beowulf told them he wanted to face the dragon alone, they fled as instructed.

Discovering Beowulf Eval
Directions: next to each category below, use a plus-check-minus to indicate high-middle-low in this category, and offer a brief written comment. At the end, request a grade.

_____ Evolution & Insight: show how discussion, notes, and other class activities changed your opinions; had unique or original thought that made us look at the book in a new light

_____ B/D/A: organized with the before/during/after sequence, drew on prior knowledge (likely including references to other works)

_____ Quotes: had 3+ meaningful quotes, presented in correct format and in a stylistically integrated way including enough “set up” for lay readers

_____ BAGS (Being a good student): on time, within the word count, polished presentation including neatness, MUGS (mechanics, usage, grammar, spelling)… and to top it all off, you handed in the paper with a smile

_____ Superman: paper flowed, was interesting to read because infused with voice

For those who revised only: explain what you changed and why.

_____ Requested grade

Does Beowulf Matter?

Before I began rereading Beowulf to teach in Hum I this year, I had vague memories of the Ur poem from my own first reading in high school. “He rips Grendel’s arm off” is pretty much all that’s written in the mental Cliff’s Notes that I (and I suspect many other adults) carry around about the epic. Grendel by John Gardener is several strata above the first reading of Beowulf in the geological layers that compose my adult reading life; I was interested to see if, upon revisiting the work, the monster was any more sympathetic to me having experienced the interpretation by this contemporary American “stylist” (a label often given to hard writers to warn away readers looking for Jurassic Park).

A number of layers closer to the canyon lip are thick bands of The Odyssey, which I’ve taught to IBETers here at TJ for the past couple years. Both epics are from completely different times and cultures, but my recent deep reading of the Greek story strongly informed my approach to the Anglo-Saxon. What historical and cultural values of the culture that birthed the epic can be teased out? How transparent is the translation in terms of giving a modern reader a true feel for the experience of the song? Would there be good parts like when Homer describes the popping of the Kyklops eyeball with a fire-heated spear?

As I read, I realized that revisiting the classic was like going back to a foreign city that one has visited briefly long ago. The major landmarks are etched in memory, but it is essentially a new place. I’d forgotten that the verses were bite-sized, and that Grendel starts eating people by the second one. The pervasive religious imagery was unfamiliar, like a cathedral I just hadn’t bothered to visit when I read it as a teenager. An example is the point where, despite Grendel’s nightly dine and dash at the mighty mead hall of the Danes, he shrinks from the most prominent symbol of King Hrothgar’s god-given power:
…Killing as often as he could, coming
Alone, bloodthirsty and horrible. Though he lived
In Herot… he never/ Dared to touch king Hrothgar’s glorious
Throne, protected by God—God,
Whose love Grendel could not know… (165-169)

Grendel isn’t exactly sympathetic, at least he lacks the tormented pysche devised by Gardener. Instead, the beast comes across as a fallen archangel, driven to depravity while lurking in the dark shadows never washed clean by the light of God’s benevolent smile.

Is this famous “pre-Christian” epic more accurately described as a “just after Christianity was introduced” epic? Stylistically, to me, the religious imagery seemed grafted on, not as vibrant as the ubiquitous descriptions of heraldic armor and rune-crusted swords, nor as didactic as the frequent digressions into historic parables about bad kings and feckless queens. Was it not likely, I couldn’t help thinking, that this song which originated with one anonymous harpist had been told and retold across generations even before it was ever transcribed, and along the way picked up the rhetorical flourishes of successive singers? Not to mention the flavor of their times, or the preferences of their patrons? Would the first singer ever recognize the version in my hands?

To my ear, Seamus Heaney’s recent re-translation of the work, which I shared with the students on CD, captures more the spirit of the tale as it must have first been told over beer-soaked linden tables than the translation we read in class. Here is Raffel’s description of the moment Beowulf cuts off the head of Grendel’s mother with a larger than life sword plucked from the wall of a great hall at the bottom of a boiling lake:
And then, savage, now, angry
And desperate, lifted it high over his head
And struck with all the strength he had left,
Caught her in the neck and cut it through,
Broke bones and all. Her body fell
To the floor, lifeless, the sword was wet
With her blood, and Beowulf rejoiced at the sight. (1564-1569)

Raffel tries to give the cadence of a chanted tale with a rough tetrameter, an effort Heaney eschews for earthier imagery and a loamier voice. Raffel further suggests an Anglo-Saxon flavor through the use of more than incidental alliteration, but to me, Heaney’s subtle poeticism better evokes the guttural tongue of ancient Norseman (transcription and line-breaks are my best effort from the CD):
So the Shildings’ hero, hard-pressed and enraged
Took a firm hold of the hilt
And swung the blade in an arc
A resolute blow that bit deep into her neck bone,
And severed it entirely
Toppling the doomed house of her flesh
She fell to the floor. The sword dripped blood
The swordsman was elated… (around 3:00, disc 2)

The elemental quality of Heaney’s lilting Irish voice in performance and his position as a living laureate add further heft to his version.

Upon finishing Beowulf, it’s clear that one can come back to the great works at different times of life and find oneself anew each time. My personal relationship with the reading experience is by definition different than my students’ but it makes me wonder through what lens they approach the work, and what they take away. Do players of massive multi player games connect viscerally with the combat scenes (or maybe sniff at imagery that past readers once considered evocative because it doesn’t leave them flecked with gobbets of flesh the way the hyper-realistic computer combat does?).

Another aspect I worry about with students, never more than while reading epics, is that the Universal Themes are lost on them, or worse, they fake understanding while secretly considering it a load of English class malarkey. Especially at this sci-tech school, future engineers are apt to perform in English only insofar as their grades affect their future admission to MIT, but not out of any sincere desire to better understand the human condition. Can a reader preoccupied with trees (There’s a metaphor! Is that what he wants?) learn to savor a stroll through the thematic forest of Literature? More broadly, what is relevant in a reading of Beowulf for a 21st century kid at TJ? A book must sell itself, I think, but I do consider it my responsibility to structure a set of experiences that allow a student the possibility of a meaningful personal encounter with it. I look forward to reading about their reading for an answer to a question that maybe only an English teacher would ask: does Beowulf matter?

Emmet Rosenfeld

Emmet Rosenfeld.

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