Between Day and Night

Between the lands of Day and Night

Flows the River of Hallucination,

Sometimes placid,

Sometimes turbulent.

Most travelers cross peacefully

To the farther bank,

Where they enjoy a needed rest.

Sometimes, eddies and floods

Cast the unwary into nightmare.

But,

Occasionally,

The river ejects me on the near bank,

Leaving haunting memory of a great beauty,

Glimpsed, heard, felt, smelled, even tasted,

A beauty far beyond anything in waking consciousness.

And I wonder whether the river's source is perhaps in Heaven.

Copyright ©2014, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

Hoping and Planning

One of the greatest results of education is the realization of the difference between hoping and planning. All too often, a student will say, "Professor, I plan to turn my paper in by Thursday, okay?" Thursday comes and goes, and there is no paper. That's because the student did not actually plan to turn in the paper. He hoped that he would turn in the paper.

Hoping that something will happen absolves the hoper of responsibility. If it happens, great. It's what he hoped for. If it doesn't happen, it isn't his fault.

Planning, by contrast, requires the planner to accept responsibility. If it doesn't happen, it's because he did not actually do the planning, itemizing the things that must occur and deciding how to make each one occur.

But there's nothing wrong with hoping. An effective application of hope will marvelously clear the mind, letting it do the hard work of planning.

A Student’s Lament

Yesterday, after reading yet one more faculty account of a student demanding an unearned grade, the Muse spoke to me, saying, "Write!"  So I wrote. Here's the result. Feel free to share it around, so long as the legalese remains at the bottom:


A Student’s Lament

Dear teacher, I need you to bump up my grade.
If you cannot help me, I waste what I've paid.
I need you to think up a grading invention.
I must have an A to prevent my suspension.
Yes, I know that I did not submit my assignment,
But the academic week is out of alignment
With my life. I have two kids and a job,
And my spouse only sits on the couch like a blob.

My life's out of kilter. I'm being so tested:
My grandma just died and my son got arrested.
How can you expect me to study and think,
With this loss in the family and my kid in the clink?
My cousin has palsy, my daughter the flu.
I'm feeling real sick from a bowl of bad stew.
The power went out, so I've lost web access.
I'm out of my mind with this strain and distress.

How dare you demand that I write with good spelling
And grammar and APA style? Overwhelming!
No other instructor ever wanted so much.
You're mean and vindictive and so out of touch.
You're supposed to be helping me get my degree,
But instead, you demand that I use the library,
You say my opinion is not good enough,
But I simply can't read all that peer reviewed stuff.

The way that you're treating me feels so obscene,
I think I'll complain about you to the Dean.
If you just won't behave like a normal professor,
Who gives me full credit for little and lesser,
You'll have to be punished. I'll make you regret
That you've pointlessly increased my financial aid debt.
I will pout and I'll cry, and if still I can't pass,
I'll resort to the worst: I'll withdraw from your class!

And the instructor replied, "Thank you."



Copyright ©2014, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/).