I guess, at the speed things move now, the inaugural is old news. I only saw a little of it; I hear it was a long day. For the record, I thought Obama’s speech was serviceable, though a little cliche ridden (rising tides, nagging fears, etc.). The prayers were annoyingly didactic, something I don’t think you need to be… if you’re talking to God.
But, against every expectation, I kinda liked the poem (“Praise Song for the Day” by Elizabeth Alexander). Many, evidently, did not. Some found it trite, or worse. I actually thought it was unpretentious and pretty well scaled for the occasion. Maybe she could’ve read it a little better. Maybe, as a work of literature, you’d have to situate it somewhere south of Robert Frost. But what do I know? I taught middle school, not grad school.
I do know this: she got one little detail wrong. It’s somewhere in the middle, but it jumped right out. It’s in there where she’s bestowing a little vers libre heft on a lot of quotidian endeavors (stitching hems, changing tires, like that). Goes like this:
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.
Now, in many a public school classroom, here’s how that would’ve gone:
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.
Huh? Wadshe say?
Get out a pencil.
A what?
A pencil, fool.
Don’t call me fool.
The teacher explains, We don’t call people fools.
Take out a pencil, she repeats.
I think maybe it’s in my locker.
Lost mine.
Me too.
Me too.
Me too.
The teacher says, Okay, who doesn’t have a pencil?
Me.
Me.
Me.
The teacher says, Okay, okay.
The teacher somehow, someway gets everyone a pencil.
Lending, borrowing, trading, selling if need be.
Then tries again. Begin.
Begin what?
Writing, fool.
I don’t have any paper.
Me too. I ran out.
Me too.
Me too.
Me too.
And so forth.
Now that can make a long day.
Slow Stagger 