"Oh Captain! My Captain!"
For those who love literature — what a time to be alive.
August is National Poetry Month and last week was Book Week. And if there’s a state that needs to embrace, celebrate, and foster a love of reading, it’s Tasmania.
The recently released NAPLAN results, which should be read with caution due to being a single assessment point, highlighted that 15 per cent of grade 3 students in Tasmania required additional support compared to the national average of 11.3 per cent.
While now considered an old-world charm, I have always been impressed by those who can recite poetry.
The publishers say descriptors for characters’ appearances, mental health, weight, gender, and race will be modernised.
The official poetry month website suggests, “Launched in 2021 by Red Room Poetry, Poetry Month (1-31 August) aims to increase access, awareness and visibility of poetry in all its forms and for all audiences”.
For many of my generation, our first interaction with poetry was at primary school when we learned about Limericks; a style where the first, second, and fifth lines rhymed along with the second and third lines which also rhymed.
A recognisable rhythm is maintained throughout. Limericks were first written in the early 1700’s with the English poet, Edward Lear said to be an early exponent.
One of my favourites is by another Brit, the famous mathematician, Leigh Mercer.
“A dozen, a gross, and a score
Plus three times the square root of four
Divided by seven
Plus five times eleven
Is nine squared and not a bit more.”
To be fair, I like this one because it is publishable. I am sure, like me, you are aware of limericks which are often a genre for the lewd.
And then it was Haiku, the Japanese poetry style, where the first line is five syllables, the second seven syllables, and the third line returns to five syllables.
The most famous of all, The Old Pond by Matsuo Basho (translation), goes like this:
“An old silent pond
A frog jumps into the pond-
Splash! Silence again.”
As we matured and were exposed to different forms of art our knowledge of poetry increased, yet not through reading verse but by watching the iconic Dead Poets Society.
As students at an elite private boys’ school thanked their unconventional teacher, Mr Keating (the late Robin Williams), they chanted the opening line of the Walt Whitman poem O Captain! My Captain!
“O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead,” Whitman penned using a ship and the ocean as a metaphor.
The poem was a tribute to US president Abraham Lincoln for his leadership during the American Civil War and to acknowledge his assassination in 1865.
Book Week and the efforts of the educators to combine a focus on literacy with creativity and fun was unmissable.
A new post hit our social media feeds every few minutes sharing young people taking on their favourite character or their most cherished book with excited yet exhausted parents and guardians leading the paparazzi gang.
The 2024 theme was Reading Is Magic. For me, reading is escapism from a hectic life. It was the same for my dad.
And while some of us are fortunate to come from strong literacy backgrounds, a love of reading and the benefits that flow require role models who share stories with youngsters from birth. Sadly, there are many across Tasmania who still don’t experience this joy.
I can still remember my mum reading The Famous Five adventures by Enid Blyton borrowed from local libraries.
Children’s author Roald Dahl would also be on high rotation, with Fantastic Mr Fox my favourite, while my brother adored Danny the Champion of the World.
I also have fond memories of playing 33 RPM records on our stereo and following along, remembering to turn the page after the chime with Jack and Giant Beanstalk still in our collection of vinyl.
But the love of losing yourself in a good book came much later for me. I had this strange quirk where I would only read non-fiction because reading fiction was considered a waste of time – it became a habit which was very hard to break. Great authors reduced my dependence.
And while poetry has never been my favourite genre, I hypothesise that lyrics have become the poetry of our generation. We may not be able to recite verses from famous poems, but we can sing the songs.
With all this debate about education reviews and new (rehashed) approaches to teaching literacy, one fact remains, a love of reading, which should begin at home, is the responsibility of the community as we attempt to counter chronic illiteracy across our state.
So, keep taking photos and posting to the socials. The joy of literature in all forms should last far longer than a week or a month.