Poems: "To David, About His Education," by Howard Nemerov, fromThe Collected Poems of Howard Nemerov (University of Chicago Press).

To David, About His Education

The world is full of mostly invisible things,
And there is no way but putting the mind's eye,
Or its nose, in a book, to find them out,
Things like the square root of Everest
Or how many times Byron goes into Texas,
Or whether the law of the excluded middle
Applies west of the Rockies. For these
And the like reasons, you have to go to school
And study books and listen to what you are told,
And sometimes try to remember. Though I don't know
What you will do with the mean annual rainfall
On Plato's Republic, or the calorie content
Of the Diet of Worms, such things are said to be
Good for you, and you will have to learn them
In order to become one of the grown-ups
Who sees invisible things neither steadily nor whole,
But keeps gravely the grand confusion of the world
Under his hat, which is where it belongs,
And teaches small children to do this in their turn.


I found this poem in a book I had growing up - I can't remember which one. Of course I was drawn to it because it had my name in the title. I taped it into my journal. I even think I used it for my senior quote!

I always loved it, and repeat the first line to myself whenever I'm frustrated and down. I feel really comforted by it.

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I'm frustrated with myself! I do things I don't want to do, I don't mean to do. I make silly careless mistakes that ripple. I'm so fucking impatient.

I want to erase it all and start over, but can't. It's cold outside. The time is gone. I'm boxed in. I feel this way a lot. It's such a function of working alone, for yourself. You make all the mistakes. You're the problem. There is nobody else to be mad at.

Of course it's temporary. It always is. Even the biggest mistakes get washed away - wave after wave. I tell myself that I can improve. Tomorrow I'll do better. But I fear I won't.