As James and I sat in out English class, waiting to each be called to give our talk we had a quiet conversation about my plan, and how I had already pretty much sorted the most important things out.
“Francesca Armstrong. You’re up next.” Our teacher called across the class. I snapped my head forward again before registering what she had actually said. So I got up and picked up my sheet of paper that I had quickly scribbled what I was going to say, down on. “What’s your poem?”
“Its called, This Be The Verse, By Philip Larkin.”
“The English poet?”
“Yes.”
“Ok. When you’re ready, please read your poem” She told me. This poem could possibly not go down well with her. But she didn’t specify it much, so she can’t complain really. I’ve done what she asked, haven’t I?
They fuck you up, your mom and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
The fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
I paused to see my teachers’ reaction, she didn’t look entirely impressed, but I carried on regardless.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats
Who half the time, were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man
It deepens like a coastal shelf
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have kids yourself
“And… please explain why you chose it? Dare I even ask?” She mumbled. The rest of the class looked quite amused at the reaction to the poem.
“I chose it, because of all the poems I’ve read about parents, I don’t agree with any as much as I do this. Parents try and control their kid’s lives, basically ‘fuck you up’. And more often than not, if you see faults in kids, you see it in their parents too, because their parents have passed on, not only their genes, but their habits and little quirks as well. But obviously they had to get it from somewhere too. So the adults in their lives when they were kids passed the exact same thing onto them, passing it on, from man to man. So the simple solution, ‘don’t have kids yourself’.” I concluded. I got some laughs from the students, who thought my choice of poem was brilliant. My teacher however, still disagreed.
“I have to say Miss Armstrong. I think your choice of poem was highly inappropriate. You know language such as that is not accepted, and to use it in a presentation is simply outrageous!” she practically exploded at me.
“Yes. But to be fair miss, the assignment was to choose a poem we can relate to. I can relate to that poem pretty well to be honest. And you never specified on what sort of poem to use. I know language such as that is not normally accepted, but there’s a difference between quoting and using it maliciously. So for example, saying ‘they fuck you up, your mom and dad.’ That’s quoting, so because someone else has already said it, it’s different to me just telling you to fuck off.” I might as well go out with a bang, eh?
