"Rage, rage against the dying of the light"

For the last week or so, my seniors have been exploring British poetry that could fall under the umbrella of "Carpe Diem"-themed selections. It has been one of the most interssting and enjoyable units that I have the pleasure to teach. Seniors in high school are a unique tribe, varied and volitile, intriguing and infuriating, energetic and exhausting. We dived headlong into Herrick's "To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time" and combed the lines of Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night. (On a side note, my son bears that poet's name. He was not actually named after Dylan Thomas as much as the name chose him, seeing as it was the only name that Heidi and I both liked and that fit the 'little booger' when he was born. I am confident he will rage, against any dying of the light.) The students examined the "If"s of Kipling in an effort to decipher what it might take to become a Man (or Woman), and composed their own conditionals along those lines. They pondered the truth and fault in the theme Housman expressed in "To an Athlete Dying Young", drawing parallels with "Into the Black" (I prefer the Battleme rendition; sorry for all those Neil Young fans) or The Dark Knight. 

I have been impressed with how many of the young people in hours 1, 3, and 4 have peered into the words and images, drawing from them emotions and ideas worthy of in depth discussion. They "gathered their rosebuds", argued that they will indeed catch and sing the sun in flight, and questioned whether it is better to set "foot on the threshhold of shade" before having a chance to experience the silence of decline. 

This week, we moved our way through what many might see as metaphorical "streets that follow like a tedious argument of insidious intent", and I am sure some truly do dread the likelihood that I may ask "What is it?" We examined "The Lovesong of Prufrock", and as the yellow fog cleared from the eyes of one young lady, she asked me "What in the world does this depressing poem have to do with Carpe Diem?" That was a legitimate question. Seizing the day was not exactly Prufrock's thing. "Do I dare?" He didn't dare. So, what was the point? 

A more Modernist view of Carpe Diem was less optimistic than Mr. Keating might have been as he urged his young charges to live life while they could. 

Where some see "Life is short, so live it" others see "Life sucks, so why bother?" Where some see rosebuds and the pleasures of scent, sight, and touch, others see nothing but thorns. I told her I lean toward the more positive view, even though I love the powerful imagery and depth of Eliot's piece. You could say I enjoy the artistry of it all, although I think my definition of artistry might differ significantly from Kanye West's. The fact is, I can understand the lament of Prufrock; I can even relate to it. I do not, however, subscribe to it. That is my choice, and it is a choice we all have. 

So, where am I headed with this? Each day, we have a decision to make. Sometimes we have to make the choice consciously, and sometimes it just seems to happen with little effort. Regardless, each of us controls how we seize the day. For teachers in today's schools in Kansas, it does seem that a yellow fog seems to be sliding around our house, covered in the soot that has filtered down from the scorched remains of what some once called a Great Experiment. But, as my cousin stated last week on Twitter, WE will return to our classrooms each morning and do our jobs. We will seize the day. Why? We will do so because we have to. It is not about us. It is about the kids we see each day, who are learning to read, learning to think, learning to live. We have to seize the day. We have to help them gather the rosebuds, because "this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying" and not one of us wants to steal away from those uncalloused hands, those as of yet unjaded hearts, the chance to make themselves the best possible members of this little world we live in, even if time may be short. They deserve to be "chaired...through the marketplace", and we will not be the reason they lose that chance. 

So, seize the day. Let those who have helped you gather your rosebuds know you appreciate it, and let those who now seem to want to tear up the rose bushes by the roots and crush them know that you will not stand for it. In short, "Rage, rage agaisnt the dying of the light" and we will not "go gentle into that good night."