The Panel on the Pedagogy of Jack Grapes, Part I

As I get ready to head to La Casa de Maria for the California Poets in the Schools (CPITS) Symposium, people might ask, “Why do you want to moderate a panel on ‘The Pedagogy of Jack Grapes?’ or ‘What’s a ‘pedagogy?’ or ‘Do Jack Grapes look at all like Jacaranda?’”

Here's Jack Grapes, poet and scholar.

I put in the proposal for this panel for three reasons: First, when I talk about teaching poetry, I often mention something the Los Angeles poet Jack Grapes said, and some other poet usually says, “Oh, yeah. I took one of Jack’s workshops.” This panel is a chance to get together with three other teaching artists who have studied with Jack and to articulate what we’ve learned from him that has kept us going.

Second, Jack Grapes worked hard for many years to develop his method of writing. His theories prompt discussion. Since he is a California poet, the CPITS Symposium is as good a place as to discuss what those theories mean.

Third, as we approach a decade of No Child Left Behind and California Language Arts Standards–neither of which made significant claims for creative writing in the curriculum–it’s a good time to consider a teaching system that continues to motivate writers.

Much of Jack Grapes teaching today can be found in Method Writing. It’s a detailed, lengthy book that defies summary in a blogpost, but watch me try: Grapes’ method evokes from students the “tonal dynamics” of their inner voice.

When I walked into his workshop earlier this summer, Jack grilled me on his method. It had been at least a year since I’d attended a workshop, and he wanted to see what I’d forgotten. It was plenty. In his comic but effective way, he said, “You should know those things if you’re going to talk about my method.” More than once, someone has summarized Method Writing as “writing like you talk,” which is only one small aspect of the inner voice and doesn’t address the tonal dynamics.

On Saturday, I plan to talk about Jack’s “Don’t-Think.-See” lesson. When I met him he showed me the exercise through a poem of his titled “My Father.”  Since then, I’ve used the exercise for many classes. Here are a few poems generated from the lesson that Jack built:

Lasagna Lips

Lasagna
in the fridge
since last night:
the tomato sauce rough
with bits of sausage,
the white ricotta cheese
flecked with parsley,
and the noodles wavy like
a cartoon’s smile.

I smile back, so
to anyone walking into the kitchen,
we would look like a mirror.
I love the taste of left-over lasagna,
the grease seeping through the pasta
from little oil slicks from the meat and
and parmesan cheese on top.

I smile at a slice,
and microwave it until its steam of desire
says, “yes, kiss me,
you hungry fool.”

I write something on the board like “Lasagna Lips” and show the students how something can come from seeing, and they respond with something like “The Meeting” or “All in Blue.” It’s an exercise that teaches students to trust the genius of their perceptions. It’s a foundation upon which all tonal shifts are made.

The Meeting

I listen at a
table, sitting
silent while an eight-person
conversation goes on.

A
baby
in
the
background,
crescendo
whining like
in music,

finally quiet,
but the conversation roams.

Dorian Mattrey 3rd Grade
San Diego Community Home Education

Okay, so Dorian modified Jack’s lesson to “Don’t-Think.-Hear,” but it still worked. What we’re really doing is asking students to do is move immediately from experience to writing. It’s radical by most heuristics to ask students to skip brainstorming or outlining. Here’s a poem that began Don’t-Think.-See but moves to Don’t-Think.-Hear.

All in Blue

The old man
all in blue, he was
shuffling into his shadow,
his weight carried in his
shoulders,
eyes down,
just missing the freshness
born of storm–
the rusty applause of
power line,
grass distorted in the wind—
his hands cupped, as
though to catch the breeze.

Kristen Espinoza
Grade 12, Scripps Ranch High

My colleagues on the panel will be Jill Moses, Kirsten Ogden and Lucia Lemieux.