Read Online When Reason Breaks by Cindy L. Rodriguez - Free Book Online Page A

straighter and read with a clear, singsong voice:
    Of Chambers as the Cedars –
    Impregnable of Eye –
    And for an Everlasting Roof
    The Gambrels of the Sky –
    Of Visitors – the fairest –
    For Occupation – This –
    The spreading wide my narrow Hands
    To gather Paradise –
    Ms. Diaz waited to let the words settle. “So, what is she talking about?”
    â€œI have
no
idea,” Kevin said. Several students giggled, but not Elizabeth. She lowered her head, letting it hover a few inches above her work. She furiously jotted notes and drew.
    â€œAnyone else?” Ms. Diaz asked. “Is anyone else confused?”
    Several hands shot up. Elizabeth didn’t raise hers.
    â€œThat’s all right,” Ms. Diaz said. “Dickinson is often hard to understand. Let’s take a closer look. She says she dwells in Possibility, and then she mentions Chambers, Gambrels, and Visitors.”
    â€œShe’s describing it like a house,” said Sarah.
    â€œYes, good. Now, what is she describing like a house? Where does she dwell? Where does she live?”
    â€œIn Possibility,” said Tommy.
    â€œYes, but what is Possibility? What does it represent?”
    The class was silent for a while. Some students stared at the poem, others at their desks, hoping not to have their names called.
    â€œPoetry,” said Elizabeth.
    â€œWhat was that?” Ms. Diaz asked, a little surprised.
    â€œPoetry,” Elizabeth said louder. “She’s talking about poetry. She doesn’t go out usually, so she lives through her poetry.”
    â€œWhy do you think that?”
    â€œPartly because of what you said about her. Writing is what she does. It’s her Occupation—capital ‘O.’ Also, because she compares it to prose. Writing is either prose or poetry, so she’s talking about poetry. She thinks poetry is better, a fairer house; it allows her to better capture what she sees, the paradise that surrounds her.”
    The students stared at Elizabeth and Ms. Diaz, waiting for a response.
    â€œI’m impressed,” said Ms. Diaz.
    Elizabeth wanted to smile but didn’t let herself.
    Several students scribbled rapidly into their notebooks.
    â€œWait, can you say that again?” asked Kevin.
    â€œNo, no,” Ms. Diaz said. “I don’t want your papers to be about what Elizabeth thinks. I want to know what each of you thinks. On one of your handouts, I was kind enough to list some websites to help you analyze the poem. The one-page response must have some analysis, but the main question is personal: Where do
you
dwell?
    â€œAs Elizabeth said, Dickinson lived through poetry; it’s the vehicle through which she observed the world and expressed herself. So I want to know: What is your vehicle? How do you express yourself? We all have something that helps us to make sense of this world.
    â€œUse the rest of the class time to start the paper. Some of you can use the computers to check out the websites. I’ll walk around to help anyone who needs it. Let’s get started.”
    For about twenty minutes, Ms. Diaz circled the room, answering questions and reading students’ developing work. When the bell rang, students packed up and filed out the door. Elizabeth lingered, obeying the note on the paper handed back to her.
    â€œYou wanted to see me?” Elizabeth asked.
    â€œYes.” Ms. Diaz smiled and sat on top of a desk. “It’s about your paper yesterday.”
    Elizabeth stared at the floor. Her heart started to beat faster.
    â€œYou’re obviously very smart and creative,” she said, tilting her head down. Elizabeth realized Ms. Diaz was straining to establish eye contact, so she looked up. “Your comments today and the detail in your drawing yesterday were both impressive. I talked with Ms. Gilbert yesterday …”
    Elizabeth blinked hard and clenched her jaw.
    â€œYou’re sending