Marisa P. Clark
I Assign Maggie Smith’s “Good Bones” in Poetry Class
—and in one response, a student conducts research
the way so many students do: a hasty banging
at computer keys or thumbing of a smartphone screen.
I giggle as I read. The student has identified
the writer of “Good Bones” as the Dame
and Oscar-winning elderly white Brit—
and the subsequent critique denounces the myriad
privileged positions from which she writes,
particularly alongside Natalie Scenters-Zapico’s
“Buen Esqueleto,” the “after” poem I also assigned.
How to grade presents a quandary. The composition
touches on tone and diction, internal rhyme
and repetition, and its pairing of random
biographical facts with phrases from the poem
demonstrates commitment to the argument—
so the result isn’t half bad. But the prompt
called for a comparison of the two poems:
where the echoes, where the riffs. I asked
for a smattering of quotes, one page maximum.
In an effort to impress, this student went the extra
inch: skimmed Wikipedia (so I assume—there’s
no citation, natch)—and showcased the endeavor
in three full pages. Blubber on a flimsy structure:
bad bones, in a manner of speaking.
I’m well-trained to keep criticism to a minimum—
mustn’t break the students with too much truth—
so I comment carefully, at length. In sum:
A dipped toe barely breaks the ocean surface
and can’t be called a swim. Research requires diving in,
going deep. It takes long breath and scrupulous sifting—
in effect, a hunt for buried treasure. Next time,
pay attention to the guidelines.
After I hand papers back, the student asks
why such a bad grade. I point to my paragraph.
“Life’s too short,” the student says, “to read
all that”—then tosses the paper into the trash,
and rushes out, into the world.
Marisa P. Clark
Marisa P. Clark is the author of the poetry collection Bird (Unicorn
Press, 2024). Her prose and poetry appear in Shenandoah, Cream City
Review, Nimrod, Epiphany, Foglifter, Prairie Fire, Rust + Moth, Sundog Lit,
Texas Review, and elsewhere. Best American Essays* *2011 recognized her
creative nonfiction among its Notable Essays. A queer writer, she grew up
on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, came out in Atlanta, Georgia, and lives in
New Mexico with two parrots, a standard poodle, and whatever wildlife and
strays chance to visit.