fandomhigh | How To Be Civilized, Friday, Period 3

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How To Be Civilized, Friday, Period 3

"Every young Radchaai is expected to write poetry," Seivarden said, standing in front of the class. "The result is of course endless amounts of bad poems being sent to friends and family, possibly becoming an embarrassment years later. Only a few have the talent or learn to develop the skill ot actually write something good, of course."

She looked at the students.

"Understanding and appreciating poetry, even if your own writings are terrible, is fundamental to being civilized. That's why you're going to write a poem today, as long or as short as you like, read it to the class and then be prepared to discuss it. Apparently this planet has a lot of different poetic forms that you can try, or you could use something from your home. It can be as long or as short as you like."

She paused. "No, actually, not as long as you like, a maximum of two pages. It should be directed towards someone you care about."

"Pens and paper are over here, unless you've brought your own," Seivarden said. "Same with gloves." She glanced at Mae. "Please help yourself to some tea."

[~~Wait for OCD~~ OCD is up]

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Seivarden hadn't given them a minimum requirement. How short could a poem be while still being a poem? Two rhyming words? Four, so you had words that didn't rhyme?

Mae rubbed her chin with her hand. She was wearing plastic sandwich bags this week, held on with plain rubber bands. They made a pleasant, squeaky, rustling noise when she gripped her pencil.

And who should she write about? Maybe Gregg? What rhymed with "crossbow"? Or "knife"!

"Mae?" Seivarden asked. "Have you written anything yet?"

"The creative process cannot be rushed," Mae said, twiddling her pencil and doodling a little spaceship in the margin of her paper.

"No?" Seivarden said. "Well, I'm sure your classmates want to hear what you've written. When you've written it."

Mae narrowed her eyes at her.

". . . Why aren't you lecturing me on my gloves?"

"Because you're being deliberately obtuse," Seivarden said. "If I said you shouldn't be wearing... jello gloves you would, wouldn't you?"

Seivarden was pretty sure she was safe there. There was no such thing as jello gloves.

"Those sound hilarious.

That was a yes.

After her weekly game of "antagonize the teacher", Mae finally settled in to actually write her poem. Then she stood up at on her desk, made a show of ruffling paper and clearing her throat to make sure she had everyone's attention, and read it:

Knife and a crossbow
Your* my best friend tho

Then she sat back down.

[* sic]

Seivarden waited for a moment.

"That was short," she said.

"Yup," Mae agreed.

And yet, still longer than she'd expected it to be!

"You should add another line," Seivarden said.

"Why? You said it could be as short as we want."

"I realize now I should have said a minimum of three lines," Seivarden sighed. She glanced at Mae's sheet. "Fine. Just correct the spelling."

"Spelling is a gate-keeping tool created by the educated elite to trample on the underclasses."

Nina clapped enthusiastically.

"I love it!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Nina gushed.

Did she mean it? Well, maybe? In some way? Even if just because it would annoy their teacher!

Mae grinned and bowed. "Thank you! It's natural talent."

Lana smiled and applauded. "Which weapon is your best friend?"

What? That was totally what the poem meant, right?

"Oh, he's totally got both," Mae assured her. "Well, the crossbow's his cousin's, but she lets him borrow it all the time anyway."

"Oh, you were talking about an actual friend?" Lana reviewed the poem in her mind. "It's good to have well-armed friends."

"Gregg is the best," Mae agreed. "Sometimes we play Knife Fight in the woods!"

"Is that an actual knife fight, or a game called Knife Fight?" Lana asked. It was Mae; she wasn't going to try to guess.

"We both have knives and we see who can land the most blows on the other person's hand before someone whimps out and quits."

So . . .. sort of both!

"You must be good if you still have your hands," Lana said.

"Or a chicken," Mae said cheerfully.

She healed really fast.

Lana laughed. "I'll never believe that."

If there was one thing Mae seemed to be, it was utterly fearless.

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class

Re: Write poetry and read it to the class