Quotation and Poetry
Alexie, S. (2007). The absolutely true diary of a part-time indian. New York: Little, Brown and
Company.
Junior chooses to go to a school "off the rez" because he is hopeful that it will provide him with a better education with better opportunities. His community does not support him in this decision. Junior describes the toll this decision takes on him, how he doesn't feel like he belong anywhere:
"Traveling between Rearden and Wellpinit, between the little white town and the reservation, I always felt like a stranger. I was half Indian in one place and half white in the other. It was like being Indian was my job, but it was only a part-time job. And it didn't pay well at all" (Alexie, 2007, p.118).
This quotation explains the title of the book. No matter where Junior goes, being an Indian is part of it (even if sometimes it is about not being Indian enough). It is interesting that he feels like he is "half Indian" and "half white" because he is biologically 100% Indian; clearly, biology is not what matters here, but how Junior feels, or rather, how his surrounding communities make Junior feel. From this quotation, one thing is abundantly clear: Junior continues to feel like he does not belong, no matter how hard he tries.
Junior is especially discouraged because he is paying such a high premium in the hopes of gaining a better education with better opportunities. As he said, "it doesn't pay well at all." Sometimes, putting so much pressure on one thing to solve all worries and answer all dreams can come with fear. I think this quotation reflects Junior admitting to himself that perhaps going to this new school may not be the answer to all of his problems, because clearly it is starting some of its own. Still, he has high hopes for his education and presses on, regardless of how uncomfortable he feels within both communities. I think he is worried, still, if it is all for nothing: what if he can't get ahead because of his own shortcomings? I think this sentiment is captured beautifully in the Billy Collins poem
"Forgetfulness."
Forgetfulness
The
name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
Have you ever hear the phrase, "don't keep your eggs all in one basket?" Do you think that is what Junior is doing with going to this new school? If you were in his position, do you think it would be worth all the pressure and having to deal with feeling like you didn't belong anywhere for the greater purpose of gaining better opportunities for your future?followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
After reading the Billy Collins poem, "Forgetfulness," have you ever felt so much pressure to succeed that it felt like your brain was mush and you were worried you were going to let yourself and everyone around you down? Write a journal entry about that experience and connect it to the Billy Collins poem "Forgetfulness."
Ahhh, I see why you chose "Forgetfulness," and I appreciate your perspective on it. I love to see the same pieces connected together for different reasons, because that's the whole point of reading good writing--we each bring our own experiences to what we read, which influences how we perceive the text, which is why multiple readers get multiple meanings out of one text.
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