The hustle and bustle of the school year is in full swing, and, as any humanities student knows, the arrival of the brisk fall air means one thing: hundreds of pages of reading a week! Without labs or worksheets to complete, the caffeinated social science student can be found hunched in front of their computer late into the night, desperately trying to untangle theoretical texts that read like one lengthy thesis statement. As a sociology student, I am deeply embroiled in the world of never-ending readings. You finish one, and suddenly, two more appear. A college student’s personal hydra. But this isn’t anything new, nor should the level of readings assigned in class come as a surprise. I knew what I was doing, signing up for these theory-intensive classes. Though I often find myself staring off into the distance, the words epistemological and phenomenology bouncing around in my mind, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The other night, I found myself in Coffee Closet, drinking chai, listening to jazz, and reading Audre Lorde. I had to pause to grapple with the Gilmore Girls of it all.
While I wouldn’t say a 50-page photocopy reading in ten-point font at midnight is enjoyable, college certainly has broadened my horizons on what kinds of reading I gravitate towards. I still enjoy a good novel with a captivating plot, of course. But if my past self were to look at my bookshelf today, she would balk. Poetry? Narrative nonfiction? Who is this stranger? My middle school self once declared poetry boring (I didn’t understand it, which frustrated me).
These days, I read poetry for fun and relaxation. The difference is the location where I engage with the text. My introduction to poetry was in the classroom, where I meticulously analyzed stanza after stanza, marking up the sheet with metaphors and authorial intention. It was the sixth grader’s version of taxes. When we place students in this analytical box, we strip the magic from the words on the page.
The next time I picked up a poetry book was my senior year of high school, and it was intentional. Reading for joy, for ourselves, allows us to see the world through a poetic lens. In all its glory and chaos, our lives are just several lines on a page. We choose the meaning of these words based on how we live. Sure, the literary devices sometimes go over my head, and I finish a poem utterly unaware of what I read. But what I do know is how it made me feel. Tapping into this curiosity is vital for our humanity. Approaching the world through feeling is not a weakness but a valuable and rare tool for thinking more critically.
We read to inspire ourselves, we write to surprise ourselves. That’s how I look at it, at least. We scare kids away from these fields by equating reading and writing with rigid expectations and harsh grades. Our overly analytical world has seeped into classrooms and mindsets, eliminating the personal voice from academic spaces. This is not to say we should forgo spelling and grammatical practice or replace meticulous research with feelings and memories. The question I ask is, why can’t we have both?
It’s normal for all kinds of classes to require a research paper that values straight facts. There have been many times where my grade is dependent on how well I bury personal flair. These assignments, albeit important, are plentiful. In contrast, students must seek out classes or extracurriculars to cultivate their writers’ voice (this seems like the right place for a shameless plug: Join The College Voice newspaper! No journalistic experience required!) Narrative-form writing is just as academic as research-based writing. It encourages the author to look inward, creating a vocabulary of their life. This kind of writing is emotionally strenuous, but it adds to the richness of our world. We must encourage this kind of creative expression in and out of the classroom through more varied readings and assignments. Finding the right words is tough, but you’ll never know if you never try.
Poetry has taught me quite a bit about turning the mundane into a heart-wrenching picture of humanity. At first, I had a negative impression of poetry, deeming the art form unimportant and a relic of the past. Now, verses flit across my mind. Dead Poets Society fans may find Robin Williams’ quote apropos, where he states that “we read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion…poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” What we read and write influences the steps we take in the world. It makes us more compassionate beings. Let’s not leave these wonders to collect dust.
Are you interested in poetry but don’t know where to start? I am currently loving Ocean Vuong and Mary Oliver. Though from entirely different backgrounds and times, their voices strike a chord with me and so many others. Read some of their work or another poets. Sit with the feelings that they stir. Or explore another genre you have neglected. You never know what path it might lead you down.
