Friday, October 1, 2010

Double-take Re-visited

About 38 months ago, as the faculty and administrators nervously awaited the opening and inauguration of KA, I dug out a poem I had discovered a decade before and always liked very much. I remember reading this poem the night before classes began, when the still desert night had quieted down all the noise and fears and pricklies that come with the beginning of a school year (not to mention with the beginning of a new school). I wrote a blog entry that night, August 25, 2007, and here is a portion of what I wrote:

So now that the boys are in their rooms, I get to muse about tomorrow and the promise of this school year. Earlier today I thought about a poem I really like, a poem by Irish poet Seamus Heaney, but one I had not thought about for awhile. Take a moment and read his words:

Human beings suffer,
they torture one another,
they get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
can fully right a wrong
inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols
beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker's father
stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
faints at the funeral home

History says, Don't hope
on this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
the longed for tidal wave
of justice can rise up,
and hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
on the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles
and cures and healing wells.

Call the miracle self-healing:
The utter self-revealing
double-take of feeling.
if there's fire on the mountain
or lightning and storm
and a god speaks from the sky.

That means someone is hearing
the outcry and the birth-cry
of new life at its term.

Seamus Heaney,
from "The Cure at Troy"

This poem starts out pretty hideously, doesn’t it? “Human beings suffer”?????? What kind of lovely, lyrical poem is this? And by the second stanza, one begins to beat one’s breast over all the angst and mistreatment in the world. Then we get to the third stanza, and we meet the mundane historian mouthing conventional wisdom that we should not hope for goodness in this life…But then…the little tiny hint that once in a lifetime, oh, and I love this phrase: hope and history rhyme. It could. It might!

Then the rest of it is this rush of possibility. The Pollyanna in me loves that possibility of “a great sea-change.” The global citizen in me longs for that “further shore.” The dramatist in me revels in the special effects of fire and lightning and storms. And of course, the teacher in me seeks to cultivate that “utter self-revealing double-take of feeling” in students.

I used to teach this poem when I taught a certain 20th century history class at Hackley. It was a poem beloved by James Agee and Walker Evans, two intrepid men who worked together in the 1930s hoping that their prose and photography might spark new empathy in Americans. I used to teach about Agee and Evans, and that little opening allowed me a chance to share this poem with my seniors hoping they might enjoy it as well.

As I enter my classroom tomorrow in the King Hussein Humanities Wing, I will lean on those possibilities. I will look for those possibilities. This school is certainly founded on a noble ethos, and it may take a long time for this school to live out the lofty principles and promises set (and of course there is always the possibility it will not), but tomorrow I will start to enjoy that double-take of feeling along the way, and I can help my students long for those connections when hope and history rhyme.

--August 25, 2007


So last week I assigned my 14 seniors in my marvelous History of the 20th Century class to read and respond to these very lines. This was the third assignment of the year. Two nights before they had read the preface to Stefan Zweig’s autobiography, a man so burdened with the “weight of history” as he called it, that he took his own life. And the night before they had read the preface to Howard Zinn’s memoirs, a historian who also pondered deeply the burdens of history. I asked them to write a one-page response to the lines by Seamus Heaney. Here are some of their responses:

Zeyna wrote, “This light at the end of the tunnel view on life is much like the state of the sublime present in Romanticism, in that there is always hope for a calm after the storm, a moment in which the wars and conflicts subside and we are left with a serene landscape….In my opinion this is a naïve view of life. Howard Zinn’s reflection on life, while similar, was different in one key aspect: instead of saying to “hope for a great sea change” he says to be the instigator of that change…”

Abdullah wrote, “To better understand Seamus’ poem one should take into consideration the play it is from and the historical context it was written in….The play ends with the boy repenting and Philoctetes being healed. Perhaps this also reflects that both Heaney and Sophocles saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Perhaps Sophocles also saw that despite all this corruption with the Peloponnesian War there is still some hope left. Similarly, perhaps Heaney also saw hope in the world with the end of the USSR and the Cold War.

Dima wrote, “This excerpt was taken from a play written in 1990, almost at the end of the 20th century—a century of “the most inconceivable decline of humanity into a barbarism,” according to Stefan Zweig….Heaney adopts the concept of a post-rain existing rainbow, motivating the readers of a splendid future that would be gained after the schism and disaster many experienced.”

Qxhna described the poem as “the marriage of how Stefan Zweig felt about the 20th century and how Howard Zinn felt about the 20th century,” and summons up Howard Zinn’s reminder that “we have been given a gift: the gift of life.” She quotes how Zinn discussed his wartime buddies who died, “I owe it to Joe and Ed not to waste my gift…for that new world we all thought was promised by the war that took their lives.”

Rob said that “when I read the title, “The Cure at Troy,” it struck me, so I looked it up and my suspicions were correct, it was an adaptation of a play by Sophocles….When it says, “don’t hope on this side of the grave” I am driven to think about the classical ideal of the Kouros, the young male full of potential and possibility, and it usually served as a grave marker. I find this quote to be related to this somehow…”

Thaer writes, “Let us imagine that time machines became a reality. As an experiment, a man by the name of Mr. John would be sent to live through every historical era and every civilization known….As Mr. John travels through today’s world he finds that there are 1 billion people starving’ around 30,000 people starving to death every day…However, there are areas where women and non-whites can vote; there are environmental activists; there are many glimpses of hope….If you can see those glimpses of hope, we can aim to bring the walls down and see the sun again. That’s what activism is about. That’s what the Revolution is about.”

Adel noted that Winston Churchill had declared that the 20th century was a “disappointment” in 1922. Adel said, “the 20th century is not what anyone expected. What was expected was an era of peace, harmony and advancement.” Adel suggests that we act like Heaney and “believe in miracles,” and Howard Zinn who insisted that we hope.

Jude discusses how Heaney views the “failure of the human race as the poem begins. He magnifies the viciousness of our race. Our swift ability to kill each other, to erase a life, push, pull, and eventually fall ourselves. Heaney hints that in the midst of this chaos there is no way to take back time…. Though optimism is in short supply there is still a lingering sense of reunion exemplified by courageous folk.”

Reed feels that “the poem reminds us that within the dark violent sea of prejudice, there stands a wave above all to reunite and carry us through….Much like Howard Zinn and Stefan Zweig’s confusion about society and the heavy weight of history behind them, the poem recognizes the dark past, but transcends despair just as Howard Zinn had a glimpse for the future…”

Faisal comments that this realization about life “comes with a burden. Because we are the solution, we have a responsibility toward those suffering. But Heaney, like Zinn, does not demand much. All we are asked to do is “hope,” and “believe”….Now that I think about it, Heaney’s message to “hope” helped get a U.S. president elected into office in this new century.”

Yusra says she “likes this way of thinking during hard times. I myself have learned first hand that it’s the only way to keep going in life. I am so optimistic about life that people often question my sanity, when really it’s my optimism that keeps me sane.”

Hamzeh notes that “Although History is telling us not to hope, justice can defy every rule and thus enable us to hope and defeat the ego of History. I see it as History versus Hope….This hope, its believers and embracers are demonstrated best in the case of the African-American people….What did these people have? Nothing, except hope….They got their freedom and history got defeated by hope.”

Suhayb reflected that “this poem reminded me of the painting Raft of the Medusa…Heaney throws out all the despair in the beginning of his poem and then gives you the hope. The Raft of the Medusa uses a similar format showing you the complete despair of the people on the raft, but then it builds up this pyramid of people showing the hope that then leads to the little point of life igniting hope in the people.”

Back in August, 2007, I wondered where it all might lead. I wondered what this experience might be like, if the project would work. Hamzeh noted that history and hope cannot sound the same, but just as Heaney wondered, might they just sound a common chord? As I read these papers this morning, I see where we have come in these 38 months.

Can you hear it?

1 comment:

My Song said...

Nice John! Isn't it refreshing to know that you have made such a difference in the lives of these young men and women? Of course, I really love the experiment of sending Mr. John though history! Thank you for sharing! I am happy to be connected to your blog once again. Missing you, my dear friend...

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