today, two remarkable things

happened in my classes.

in my composition class, i discovered a writer. unfortunately, i also discovered that among everyone, she had the most number of cuts and the least number of submissions. i had more than one reasons to give her an F for her advisory mark, which i have just submitted to the department, but i decided to be selfish. i decided i want to keep her in this class. but she will definitely hear it from me. as i also want to hear more from her.

in my literature class, i saw the kids mature in an hour. we were discussing the element of point of view and how it not only delimits the reader's scope of vision, controls the reader's reaction, but also reveals subjectivity and subject-position. i did not use these last two terms, or go into psychoanalytical critique, but illustrated the concepts by way of facilitating the discussion of a particular story. this is not what was remarkable about today's class. what really made my day was how smooth and steady and calm the discussion went. the students raised their hands one after the other, gave each other time to speak, listened to each other's answers and then responded (to their classmates' comments and to the story) not only critically and intelligently, but most of all, compassionately. normally, i restrict myself to just getting students to arrive at a comfortable critical stance, in relation to the story and the larger social context. and that, in itself, is a not the easiest thing to accomplish. after a lot of work, towards the end of the sem, i am hardly able to take pride in seeing them (or some of them, sometimes even just a few of them) arriving at that stance, confidently and comfortably using a particular critical (political) framework, employing a new vocabulary, and basically thinking unlike an over-indulged or over-eager freshman. this sem, i don't know what happened. or maybe i missed it. but before i knew it, [practically] the entire class matured as readers (and as persons), and even overshot my expectations. i cannot claim any credit for it. but let me revel in it. today's was probably the least exciting, certainly one of the most orderly, of discussions i have ever handled. i am one to encourage and instigate a boisterous, lively, sometimes out of hand, exchange, which usually characterize the discussions in this particular class. today, i didn't have to instigate anything. i barely did any facilitating, truthfully.

it wasn't so much the wonderful exchange that struck me, it was the graceful quieting that i witnessed after the discussion.

this is how i want my formalism explained

by a bad-ass writer who thinks that "magic realism sucks", and that there are only two things in life that are truly enjoyable: "Borges and making love".

***

"Yes, plots are a strange matter. I believe, even though there may be many exceptions, that at a certain moment a story chooses you and won’t leave you in peace. Fortunately, that’s not so important—the form, the structure, always belong to you, and without form or structure there’s no book, or at least in most cases that’s what happens. Let’s say the story and the plot arise by chance, that they belong to the realm of chance, that is, chaos, disorder, or to a realm that’s in constant turmoil (some call it apocalyptic). Form, on the other hand, is a choice made through intelligence, cunning and silence, all the weapons used by Ulysses in his battle against death. Form seeks an artifice; the story seeks a precipice. Or to use a metaphor from the Chilean countryside (a bad one, as you’ll see): It’s not that I don’t like precipices, but I prefer to see them from a bridge."

(Roberto Bolaño, in an interview with Carmen Boullosa, BOMB Magazine, Issue 78 Winter 2002, LITERATURE)