Summoning Yourself - What Only You Know

[Moonchime]

What a beautiful surprise Mz Lori - a little gem nestled amongst distractions! A glimpse into the confusion and impressions of a small person. An endearing little Pip.

I have to admit to glancing briefly over Dee's review but stopping short of your explanations. So here I endeavour to comment as I would have with just my first impressions.

Pip’s Beginning

Arranged in lines
Be a toy soldier in a small plaid shift dress
Crisp white baby doll collar
Skin tanned still from summer

You kick off with a very vivid image of the classic lines of children that summon up schools over land and time; rigid and controlled but neatly turned out with that "crisp collar" for a first day back after the glorious freedom of the summer. I found this a very visual image. I love the way small people start out in those early days displaying the enthusiasm and care (of their parents) for that first big step into the school world.

For hours it seems
Alone at the long line of wooden tables
Join a circle now says the lady with the pale oval stare
Pip doesn’t think so not today not ever

This is The Beginning
Ground zero to an eternal ache for exit signs
Walk this way now, Julie appears fresh and freckled
Marching her tiny soldier back through the door

The "join a circle" lines conjure up an invitation to be part of a group or it could indeed be drawing, but I envisaged a group to which our little Pip was not inclined - with a certain degree of independence in tact in the "not today not ever" and always wondering how she might escape this place and the enforced behaviours it instilled.

The "pale oval stare" was a very strong image because it's seems so faceless - just a shape with little expression and certainly no warmth, two dimensional not a real person at all.

Now we come to the "weeping Humpty" which could literally be a little toy going to "fall" as well as a metaphor for the inevitable "breaking" of those new pupils unused to the rigours of the classroom.

To say Pip’s name oh so slowly - to tame
Pip peers into The End (say it all together class) The Party Over

I wasn't sure about the meaning behind these lines - it reminded me of getting children to repeat a name that is new or unfamiliar - that chant like way that children always have when they have to repeat something together that makes it sound like slow motion speaking in syrup. Maybe not welcome if that slow chant is your name?
I see Julie as an older sister gently guiding back the would be escapee to where she is supposed to be.

There is writing on the wall in tall stiff chalk lines
Confines rising to claim a girl-child hangman style
Abandoned and handed over
To the smell of cold Klear-waxed floors

A clever comparison between the chalk game on the wall and the reality of Pip as a sacrifice to school imprisonment with that oh so familiar smell of floor wax.

Greens and mottled whites
Taken away from the sun
From diamond patterns on the living room rug
The open window – the Vivaldi score

I too puzzled over this - I decided it was daydreaming - things that reminded Pip of things from home that seemed so far away - the patterns from the rug and the playing of music.

Faceless voices instructing
Voices down the hall leaving and leaving
An entire world disappearing
Muted by closing doors and the ticking clock

Now this verse was full of sounds - great - I could hear the teachers from classrooms off the corridor/hall and the parents chatting as they departed leaving their little ones behind with the forlorn Pip watching as the world she knows it disappearing, leaving her in the rarified atmosphere of the school room. I love the way sounds drift off as doors close and the clock gets louder. The sounds dying away with that other world.

After The End comes The Middle
There is comfort in A and B and C
A half-circle is better and there is an end chair
There is “horse” and “ball” and “sock”

Now here are some conundrums - the end after the middle and an end chair? I felt there was some comfort in the the actual school work for Pip and the words at the end make me think of words on alphabet charts. So Pip finds comfort in some activities?
As for Latonya Wanamaker at first I thought she had decided to escape the classroom and depart for home as sometimes happens in those early classrooms but her mouth full of bees made me wonder - is she full of unpleasantness or just won't shut up?
I really enjoyed the picture of Pip talking to her feet with those really pretty socks - I definitely never had those ones when I was little - they were always plain - I fear they arrived too late!

Shiny black patent leather through the back alley
Past Robbie’s grinning metallic blue bike
Past any point of recognition with no direction home
Free on folded wings all atwitch rather than aflutter

Pip thinks lost is a far Better Beginning

I could just see those little shoes scurrying through the alley -shoes are such a big part of a child's life and conjure up the small Pip so clearly.
The metaphor of the wings is a wonderful end with that final thought of what makes a good Beginning. Perfect.
Pip must be one brave soul because being lost can be so terrifying when you're small I find myself wondering how she got home...
One thing I noticed immediately when I first looked at the poem was the layout of the first 4 verses beginning with a short phrase of a few words which brought about an anticipation of what was to come. I loved that.
So enjoyable Lori - thank you.

I will now read your reply to Dee and hope not to feel an ass.

[Lori]

Thanks so much for delving, Mz. MC. This little vignette of day 1 of Kindergarten was cathartic as it is really my first memory out in the world. Between you and Mz. Dee, you've basically got the thing!

To answer a question or two:

Pip’s Beginning

Arranged in lines
Be a toy soldier in a small plaid shift dress
Crisp white baby doll collar
Skin tanned still from summer

Some kind of jail
Be a good girl now say smiling nodding parents
Pint-sized oddities pushed Pip’s way
Small nails into small holes with a small hammer

For hours it seems
Alone at the long line of wooden tables
Join a circle now says the lady with the pale oval stare
Pip doesn’t think so not today not ever

This is The Beginning
Ground zero to an eternal ache for exit signs
Walk this way now, Julie appears fresh and freckled
Marching her tiny soldier back through the door

Yes, Julie is an older sister who was quite proud actually of being plucked from 2nd grade to calm down and herd her smallest sibling. She stayed a long time, lol! And, I am still merely a few steps away from bolting out the door in any organized situation!

To the table to the small hammer
To talk weeping Humpty off the ledge
To say Pip’s name oh so slowly - to tame
Pip peers into The End (say it all together class) The Party Over

Pip is wee Humpty, fragile and ready to tumble. There was no comfort for Pip that day, but I remember Julia being familiar and a touchstone.

With no comfort and no hope, Pip peers into The End (a new normal that she knows will be ongoing and it is bleak with nothing beyond it seems) "The Party Over" The end of life as she knew it and preferred it. Colors gone, warmth gone...all of it. Say it all together class meaning this group speak/think/action is now the new construct of her days and she doesn't like it. The party is over...

There is writing on the wall in tall stiff chalk lines
Confines rising to claim a girl-child hangman style
Abandoned and handed over
To the smell of cold Klear-waxed floors

Greens and mottled whites
Taken away from the sun
From diamond patterns on the living room rug
The open window – the Vivaldi score

The first line depicts what she currently sees around her in a blurred fashion...the green chalkboard, the linoleum off-white floors, the dull walls. Gone is the sun of the day before. Gone is the daylight flowing through French-paned windows throwing diamond patterns on the floor. The open window with the breeze and the music playing throughout the home.

Faceless voices instructing
Voices down the hall leaving and leaving
An entire world disappearing
Muted by closing doors and the ticking clock

Instead there is teacher-like chatter. Footsteps and voices in the hallway beyond slowly fading as parents leave and teachers close their classroom doors.

After The End comes The Middle
There is comfort in A and B and C
A half-circle is better and there is an end chair
There is “horse” and “ball” and “sock”

Yes, this is a bit of a curve to familiarity. Something tangible to grasp onto. The end chair definitely allows for escape if necessary. The last words are just that...nothing spectacular or even interesting - they are simply and comfortingly familiar and normal.

Latonya Wanamaker invites herself home
Her mouth a swarming of bees buzzing and buzzing
Carry me away now, Pip says to both feet
To small white socks with the lace edge flipped over

Ha! Yes, a chatterbox with zero level of propriety. No concept of keeping Pip's personal space intact and the audacity to insinuate herself in Pip's life - nearly a continuation of the school day, bringing this unfamiliar face home. I remember her square juicy mouth yapping away and her skin red in the wind with wild long blond hair. It felt like science fiction to me - like an odd creature had latched onto me. Too funny. I recall abruptly detaching and running. It's a bit odd, isn't it girls, that I am a bit of a hugger now?


Shiny black patent leather through the back alley
Past Robbie’s grinning metallic blue bike
Past any point of recognition with no direction home
Free on folded wings all atwitch rather than aflutter

Pip thinks lost is a far Better Beginning


Again, it only lasted 13 long years. I was always grateful my son seemed to like school and didn't try to run. I felt I would not be able to discipline him if he should decide that was the best route. I loved summer with him and all school vacations and snow days.

Fun fact? I was a straight A student and that is why they could not at that time in history (before guidelines of attendance were solidly in place) make me a Sophomore during my senior year due to lack of attendance. I made sure I was there on test days, lol.

Anywayz....thank you for your kind reviews and sweet thoughts towards Pip. It really was cathartic for me to put to paper that day. It does still represent a lot for me and at times I've not changed all that much. I find myself wondering just who constructed this pattern we must follow as humans. I was very well-adjusted (mostly) at school and had a lot of fun and friends, but preferred my piano at home and would have loved to be home-schooled or simply have a job. My mother would not have been able to do it, however, if the three piano lessons she tried to give me were any example. We did not mesh in the instruction area. Most likely my fault as she is an accomplished pianist/organist.

Love you PICs!

[Dee]

Ha, formally teaching your own child, especially if you’re a teacher by profession, that’s no easy job for sure. Children want you to be their mum, not their teacher. It’s hard for both to put adjust to wearing new hats in a very differently established relationship.

I enjoyed reading your elaborations, Mz S, on the poem, shining even more light on lovely little you.

It is indeed fascinating how complete we were already at such young age.

Was just thinking how this new world of pandemic induced online education would have suited you to the ground!

Stay at home, check in with your camera off in your jimjams, get the instructions, organise and complete your own learning, hand in stuff online, play loud music and piano whenever you want to, and no need for any conformity.

[Moonchime]

It's true the current trend for distance learning would certainly have suited you Mz Lori. It's lovely to get such vivid little pictures of each other from long ago. It is amazing how fully formed one is at a very young age and how despite all the years flowing between there is so much that is still recognisable years later.
I'm always very much aware of how when I'm with my siblings we fall into patterns that were part of our childhood order!!

Lori wrote:

My mother would not have been able to do it, however, if the three piano lessons she tried to give me were any example. We did not mesh in the instruction area. Most likely my fault as she is an accomplished pianist/organist.

One thing I have learnt is that accomplishment is a very small part of teaching - particularly at the early stages - it can be very difficult to understand someone who is at the very start of understanding when you may be far above it! Not everyone struggles equally. Your mother is clearly very talented. Agi is right that the relationship is often problematic - my daughter in particular did not value my interference in her work strategies.

What's more neither of my children really liked school - my son loved primary (5-11) but they both disliked (understatement for daughter) secondary (11-16/18). They both concluded that it was a "jungle."
TBH I'm glad the days of convincing them school was a good idea are over - well the school bits anyway.

[Dee]

And then they get up and carry on.

Dee your new ending is more inclusive than the previous one and although the first one has impact I agree with Lori that it creates a jolt in the reader that changes the mood, so I think your reasoning for the change is sound and creates quite a different feel. I think it's great that your experimentation with the instructions has given you so much food for thought and made you realise that the exact same format as modelled didn't serve your purpose.

As I went back to update my folder in the Piccadilly Anthology, I reread this poem and felt this ending didn't belong after all!

The ending changes the meaning in a way I don't really want - in the sense that the poem with this ending becomes about the strength of the woman who can pick herself up even from the depths of hell, but then I feel the line is actually not strong enough to do that. I felt it rather flat and unconvincing, coming back to it with fresh eyes.

In this poem I what I really wanted to write about was what it was like, and not how I got over it. The original ending wanted to express that I am glad not all women have to go through such pain, but somehow that didn't work either, as you girls have helped me to see. I think perhaps the poem doesn't really need a conclusion/afterthought of either kind. It could just be exactly what it was set out to do, a description of hopeless suffering, and leave it at that. So I've edited it again, and cut the last line altogether.

It's invaluable to revisit old poems after they're a little "forgotten" - and hopefully can be improved with a fresh look.

Spoiler:

some women know what it's like
to wake up with an empty womb
to the nightmare of another day

to keep staring at the hospital bag
squirming in the corner of the room
- an ostentatious anomaly unpacked -

some women know what it's like
to let their fingers trace the weave
of the willow in the Moses basket

and lose all track of time in the silence
- the relentless hollow of silence -
and the cold that broke the summer's day

some women know what it's like
to hate their spiteful breasts
filled with milk to prolong the torture

to feel a failure, a useless vessel,
an aching mess suspended in time -
some women know what it's like

to pick at the scabs to rub salt into the wounds
keep opening the drawer with the tiny vests
some women know what it's like

to hold a pair of yellow knitted booties
in their lap and soak them in tears
for all that wasn't meant to be

~AP