It's time for some Taylor Mali.
Because it's time for another ode to teachers. (If you missed the last one, by Pat Mora, it's here.)
Because teachers are to the world what oxygen is to the lungs.
And, if you need an additional Mali poem today (and anyone who is a teacher, loves a teacher, was a teacher, wants to be a teacher, or benefitted, ever, from a teacher, should read it), here is "What Teachers Make."
And yes, may I always teach "like the first snow, falling."
Undivided Attention
A grand piano wrapped in quilted pads by movers,
tied up with canvas straps—like classical music’s
birthday gift to the criminally insane—
is gently nudged without its legs
out an eighth‐floor window on 62nd street.
by Taylor Mali
A grand piano wrapped in quilted pads by movers,
tied up with canvas straps—like classical music’s
birthday gift to the criminally insane—
is gently nudged without its legs
out an eighth‐floor window on 62nd street.
(Read the rest here, at Taylor Mali's website.)
~~~~~~~~~~
Join the always delightful Laura Purdie Salas today for the Poetry Friday round-up.
(Image by dietcheese from Pixabay)
22 comments:
Always a goodie! (Man, though, it seems like a lot of pressure to teach like the first snow, falling! I think I would have a hard time doing better than the second snow.)
I need to read more by Mali. This is special, Karen. I actually helped with a piano move like this, really just gave comfort to my husband's aunt who was having her own Steinway moved. She needed support for this harrowing experience! But, all was well & she had the piano in her new home by nightfall! I love the idea of "first snow". He has it right. We still run to the windows!
Oh, Yeah. That race to the windows. The realization that no matter what you're teaching, that snow is the most important lesson of the day.
Here's to teachers! Here's to the oxygen!
Man, oh, man, this is always a reminder to Read. More. Mali. Maybe next year the Poetry Sisters will do something with him. Always so great --
All the greatest common factors are delivered by
long‐necked cranes and flatbed trucks
or come through everything, even air.
::sigh::
Let me drink poetry like notes from a Steinway. Let me write it like Mali.
Wow. I rarely click through to read the rest of a poem, but I'm so glad I did. Thank you, Karen!
Love it, Karen! Thank you for directing us to that beautiful poem. I'd like to read more of her work.
"Who can teach when there are such lessons to be learned?"
Just gorgeous.
Our neighbors had to get their hot tub off a second-floor deck and onto a flat-bed with a crane, but I'm afraid the effect was not the same!
So glad you posted this poem, Karen. I really love it. Here is a link to Taylor's website and the Broadside version you can order from him. He will sign it for you, too. Now reduced to $10 per copy on lovely heavy paper! Beautifully done. I sent one to Margaret Simon for our Summer Poem Swap. And I used it to write a found poem for her. If interested you can go into her archives for Aug. to find it. Taylor's latest book, a couple of years old now, Late Father is a volume I really love and come back to it frequently. I used the entire book in order to write a cento for a workshop I took with Georgia Heard. You can find current and older videos of Taylor reciting poems on YouTube.
Janet Clare F.
https://taylormali.com/product/letterpress-broadside-undivided-attention/
This is a fabulous poem. I like to imagine how my students would react if it started snowing outside my tropical classroom window.
That's the dream, to be as interesting as a dangling piano, the first snow falling--and not one of us can achieve it, not even in PreK when so much is brand new. I love the idea, too, and I love the poem, but I think maybe that's part of a dangerous myth about what a good teacher is and does: a performer, a captivator instead of a sounding board, a coach, a co-conspirator.
I appreciate poems for and about teachers!
Oh my goodness, I got a copy of this poem this summer. I love it.
Oh, how wonderful! Thank you. I had a week! And, the effort of trying to look cheerful despite all the little frustrations that added up made me quite cranky. I loved being able to relate to this poem...the moment of snow that takes all the attention of the room and pulls it outside. Just so well said.
I love Taylor Mali and as a teacher, I especially love these poems about teaching. Thanks for sharing these today!
Thanks, all, for joining me in the Taylor Mali love!
Tabatha and Heidi, I agree that the idea presents a lot of pressure and perhaps a myth about great teaching. But such amazing imagery. :) Too gorgeous not to love. Heidi, I love the definition of a teacher as sounding board, coach, and co-conspirator.
Linda B., that's amazing. :) And Susan T., not quite the same imagery, eh? :D
Tanita, yes to pursuing something Mali-esque with the Poetry Sisters.
Janet, thanks for pointing out the link to the Letterpress Broadside. Beautiful.
Linda M., so happy this gave you something to relate to. Kindred spirits.
Ruth, there would be a whole new level of wonder in your classroom. :D
Hello, everyone! This is Taylor Mali, despite what my avatar might suggest otherwise. It's been a delight to read such nice comments about my poem. Thank you. I never considered teaching like the first snow, or a dangling piano (or hot tub!) to be a kind of PRESSURE, more like that was the challenge. And of course, only for a certain kind of teacher, the kind that dazzles from the front. As Heidi pointed out (and as I have written about in other poems), there are other ways to teach. I only knew how to be a dazzler. Thank you, Janet, for pushing my books and broadsides! Have a wonderful Tuesday evening. (PS—I'm a boy)
If you are really Taylor Mali, my day is made. My week. No, my month. Or maybe my year. (It's not over yet. Check back in December and we'll see if any other dazzling poets have commented on my blog.)
Yes to dazzlers and non-dazzlers in the classroom. There are so many variations on great teaching. I think my husband and my daughter might both be dazzling teachers, but they would probably deny that.
And yes, I should have pointed out to Susan that you are a boy — I didn't correct her, thinking, "I don't want to embarrass her, and hey, it's not like Taylor Mali is going to stop by my blog and notice." :)
It is the real Taylor, fyi. He is a great guy, friendly, warm, smart, talented and interesting. Not to mention a very good poet both stage and page. A friend, too, lucky me. (I told him about your post. If you or anyone here ever uses his Metaphor Dice and especially with kids, I would love to know about it!)
Janet Clare F.
Well, I *adore* him, Janet, so thanks for telling him about the post. Day, week, month, and year made. :D
I have an offer to those who are still following this thread, and I hope it doesn't come off as opportunistic, but here goes: Metaphor Dice needs to test a massive back-to-school sale campaign that we are about to run on Facebook aimed at teachers—60% off—so I thought maybe you guys could be the first to iron out the kinks? Here is the link: https://www.metaphordice.com/product/back-to-school-sale/
Those metaphor dice sound great! I'll have to get some for teacher friends. Please tell Taylor I like HIS idea. :)
Stunning poem. Just exquisite. And yes - this passion for the simple and complex things around us - fuelled by our kids' curiosity - is what I always aspired for in teaching. The inquiring mind. Curriculum is nothing. It's the life lessons that count for everything - and the skills that are learnt in the process. We are not little boxes. We need to stretch mind-muscles to really grow and learn.
(Love the stream of comments to reach this point, too!💕)
Kat, your comment — "the inspiring mind. Curriculum is nothing." — reminds me that I always used to say, of our homeschool, "Most of our curriculum is 'talking.'" :)
Thanks for joining the conversation!
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