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Thomas Hardy's "Hap," with its brutal denials of our unchallenged generalizations about those mysteriou our having urestlsd wi th ths poetn alone/ at home, she confronted us with the poem the next day in class by first smiling, then pausing, then saying, "You didn't understand it, did you?" But slowly, world through his eyes until finally, in some small degree, his world began to assume some resemblance to our own. Thus I grew, revelling in my newly-found insights and understandings. It was Fern Young who, before a mixed class, had the temerity to write on the board, "The Rape of the Lock:, by A. Pope," to my astonishment, even in part because of" its communally-accepted dichotomy: some words among us were Known but never spoken or written; others could be spoKen but never written; some words were spoken to somepeople, never to others. For me finally to accept Pope's "Rape of and to cease resenting her exposing us publicly to such a loaded word was another major step upward into new freedom and tolerance* Tt was she who until I earned my own insights into the novelist's depiction of life and subsequently into my own. More than any other teacher it was she who helped me meet and digest the intellectual and artistic challenges of my second paradise until they became so much a part of me that I could use them as step-How can I, one student possibly speaking for which until now have never even been acknowledged? north of the campus named in her honor. To me these 121 |
