I sat down at my desk in Tate Hall 004 on the day class was canceled and though, I don't have the foggiest idea what I'm going to read next for this essay. The sun was out; it was cold; clouds white-hot drifted in the neon-blue sky--I notice. None of this helps me carry on. I'm in a foul mood: my English 1000 class was deader than snot dried in an old rug, crusty and droopy eyed, and I've got that sour, am I really cut out to be a teacher taste in my mouth. That doesn't help me carry on either. So, as one does when there is little hope left, as the wheels spin in the metaphor you've made of your mind, I actually did that thing I tell my students to do but rarely comply with; I looked at the works cited page of the last essay I had read for this project.
Well I struck out, but I struck out so hard and in such a swingingly wild fashion I ended up hugging a 66 year old Marianne Moore essay to my breast, tears about to brim in my eyes for gratefulness. I will spare the brunt of the details but in short this occurred thus: works cited of the Allen article mentions T.S. Eliot, I remember there's an essay of his I've been meaning to read, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry please, hmmm? Nope, that essay--"Tradition and the Individual Talent"--doesn't apply, but what's this essay by Ezra Pound? D.H. Lawrence? Langston Hughes? Hart Crane?, etc., and boom Marianne Moore's "Humility, Concentration, and Gusto." Could it work? Might it work? Well, I won't really know until I read it. But it suddenly occurred to me that my ambling search had not been purposeless. No, part of me must have know what I was seeking: a benediction or blessing or word of guidance from one of the great masters of poetry. For, as of now, I've looked at the practical application of poetry in the classroom, and a bit at the theoretical principles that under gird a pedagogy of poetry in the composition classroom, but I haven't turned to the greats of the poetic realms to see how they view the interaction between poetry and prose composition. And since I can't think of a better place to start than Marianne Moore, so shall I proceed.
In this essay Moore discusses the three qualities she most values in poetry: humility, concentration, and gusto (994). Now, even on the service, these three qualities appear to me to be desirable in other modes of writing aside from poetry. However, Moore makes these connections to other forms of writing explicit, couching her arguments in terms of persuasive rhetoric, literary criticism, and policy making alongside poetry.
It was a bit difficult to ferret out exactly how Moore defines her key values: humility, concentration, and gusto. Her use of reference upon reference upon exemplar with little intermediary explanation or analysis makes the lines of her rhetoric somewhat hard to comprehend. Yet, if one assumes Moore is aiming for simplicity in her consideration of these values (an assumption that is warranted given her acceptance of the idea that "style [depends]... on simplicity" (995), they become comprehensible. By "humility" Moore means "quiet objectiveness" that accepts one's indebtedness to the ideas and works of others. Moore embodies this definition of "humility" in her text as she writes with unadorned simplicity often referencing, quoting, and alluding to the works of other writers and poets (995). By "concentration" Moore means a specific focus that opens in its compression to potential ambiguity (996). By "gusto" Moore means the force of individual expression working itself out in contrast to the normative patterns of language and expression (997-998). Overall Moore errs on the side of demonstrating these values (humility, concentration, and gusto) rather than explicitly defining them.
I must admit, reading this essay I was at first quite worried I had embarked on a fruitless investigation as far as application to the composition classroom goes. Sure, humility, concentration, and gusto were important to writing "valuable" poetry, but they didn't seem to have much application to English 1000. Yet, Moore's succinct yet striking summary of her main points in her final paragraphs (her answer to "So what?" "Who cares?") saved the day. Moore writes, "All of which is to say that gusto thrives on freedom, and freedom in art, as in life, is the result of a discipline imposed by ourselves. Moreover, any writer overwhelmingly honest about pleasing himself is almost sure to please others....To summarize: Humility is an indispensable ally, enabling concentration to heighten gusto... The thing is to see the vision and not deny it; to care and admit that we do" (999-1000).
Granted in this conclusion, Moore is speaking directly to the poet and the artist and not to the freshman composition student. But I was struck by how what she writes here applies to composition on multiple fronts. First, there is this idea that freedom comes as the result of "discipline imposed by ourselves": a striking tension between individual will and the constraints we place upon that will (999). Such is the milieu of the composition classroom (or any other class for that matter), where, in my opinion, the most successful students are precisely those who are able to find freedom within the classroom space--a freedom that derives directly from their ability to impose the necessary discipline upon themselves without the outside enforcement of the instructor or classmates. In short, students who excel in the composition classroom are those who take ownership of their writing. Second, the idea that if you are "overwhelmingly honest about pleasing" yourself in your writing you are "almost sure to please others" (999). Amen. How hard I strive to get students to follow their fancy, to write what they want to write. And, yes, in agreement with Moore, I have noticed that when students please themselves with their writing, I, as a reader and assessor of that writing, am also pleased. Third, I believe in composition, as well as poetry, good work begins with humility--with one figuring out and being honest about the place from which s/he writes, taking of airs, aiming for sincerity, simplicity and "quiet objectivity." Humility is truly an "indispensable ally" or as T.S. Eliot put it, "The only wisdom we can hope to acquire / Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless" ("East Coker" Part II). Fourth, yes, "The thing is to see the vision and not deny it; to care and admit that we do" (1000). In so much as what we teach and study in the composition classroom connects to the way we live our lives, it is above all else necessary that whatever illumination our writing and exploration and research and questioning brings not be denied: "The thing is to see the vision and not deny it." I love that. It's so simple yet challenging. For we see visions every day and deny them, as do our students. One of the major ways we do this is adopting an attitude of indifference. If we don't care, then it becomes as easy as a shrug of the shoulders to deny the vision. Thus Moore's follow up phrase "to care and admit that we do" acts as a helpful caveat, reminder, and benediction. It is, after all, far easier not to care, or, in caring, to refuse to admit our concern. Courage is required to care: a risking one's person. And it can be terrifying to admit to yourself that you give even a single damn. If I had a nickle for each faux-apathetic, threadbare, nothing-you-gonna-say-will-bother-me-none stare that I have faced in a semester-and-a-half of teaching, my stipend would be big-city competitive, baby! If I had to give a nickle for every time I've hid behind the same facade, well, shoot, I would've just lost all my new nickles.
Thus, to close, I think Moore's essay and her three values really matter in the context of poetry in the classroom because they highlight the potential for poetry to convey not only humility, concentration, and gusto, but also visions, and the willingness to accept those visions, and the daring to care about those visions. Conveyances applicable to comp. and to life.
After looking at Moore's primary values of poetry and seeing how they apply to composition, I am eager to see what other great poets may have to say about the composition of poetry that might apply rather directly to the teaching of composition.
Moore, Marianne. "Humility Concentration, and Gusto." The Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry Vol. 1. Eds. Jahan Ramazani, Richard Ellmann, Robert O'Clair. New York: Norton, 2003. Print. 994-1000.
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