Mr. Schiltzer took a breath and continued, “I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night. I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected, and debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or small.” His eyes rose from the Complete Works of Walt Whitman and scoured the group of students, most of who were lost in their own thoughts. Only a handful, were glued to the words that flowed prolifically from Mr. Schiltzer’s mouth. The rest were lulled to a suspended consciousness by the rote manner in which he read. He realized he had lost them by the forty-ninth verse. Mr. Schiltzer closed the book and dropped it on his desk. The thwack of its weight as it landed startled his students out of their catatonic states. The room filled with gasps and rumblings of curse words. He knew this poem was going to be a challenge. Most all of them were flunkies or girls knocked up by flunkies, whose IQ’s were in double digits. But he knew there was a chance to save them, and Walt Whitman’s, Song of Myself was his last attempt.Valerie, one of the girls in his class shot her arm in the air, clutching her underarm as she waved her hand and whined guttural huffs. He knew if he called on her he would have to listen to her attempt to define and regurgitate the meaning of the entire poem. She was the highest performing student in his class, reluctantly he caved.“Yes Valerie?” he said, trying not to look irritated.“Mr. S, so if I was to interpret the last bit you just read he’s tellin’ us that he’s a vampire like the one from that movie where he sparkles in the light, right?” She swung her hands out towards him. “Damn girl, you don’t know nuthin’, it is called Twilight, and the vampire’s name is Edward. But that isn’t what it’s about,” pregnant Ashley interrupted and took a shallow breath to continue, “It’s about Jacob Black, the wolf. How he loves Bella and wants to make babies with her. Geez, everyone knows that.” She cocked her head and gave several random students high fives. Mr. Schiltzer took a deep breath, readying himself. He knew it was going to take more than a flash of time to explain what the last verse he read of Whitman’s poem meant. “Walt Whitman’s poem, Song of Myself is about—. “ The bell rang cutting him off. Everyone quick to leave, pushed their books and blank paper into their packs and shuffled out. Deflated but not defeated he took a deep breath, smiled, and thought to himself, there’s always tomorrow.
Bravo, de la O! I used this quote (well, actually the excerpted line from the poem) because I was wondering if anyone would make use of the connection. And you did!But nicely done! (And just so you know, I would have been one of the geeky-ish kids who'd have wanted to stay after class to see what Mr. Schlitzer's interpretation of Song of Myself was all about.) ☺
Well thank you lightverse for posting it! I had fun writing this. But the fact that I am doing everything instead of editing my MS isn't good. lol.