Feet ross gay

Finally, some kids raised their hands and the answers I got was:

“To express himself”

“To be emotional”

“To show he isn’t embarrassed by his feet”

My kids had shown already that they are so smart and talented but this was a huge step in interpreting the poem. I wanted to engage the students with tapping into those emotions in order to show them that it’s okay to feel sad, angry, or even scared and poetry is an outlet to express those emotions.

First, I asked my kids about what they noticed in the poem, and of course they shouted out so excitedly “feet!” When I began to ask why Ross Gay would write about his feet, and how much he really didn’t like his feet, the kids fell quiet.

That means there’s even more to love because books. Because it doesn’t.
That’s not this love poem. Everyday movements, quite moments, elements of life we take for granted all find a place to shine here. He thanks us a lot!In the title poem towards the end, “catalog of unabashed gratitude,” he starts out by addressing “Friends” and it seems, at this point, that we are all his friends.

Enter Ross Gay’s Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude. It was truly terrifying, because I thought the ride was going to collapse. First off, while writers who break the fourth wall usually aren’t my bag, this is totally my bag because he’s already reeled me in with his thankfulness. Some of the kids were pretty set in not engaging in this exercise, perhaps since it seemed like too much work to think back on the past, so I decided to share a few memories of mine with them.

I talked about the first time I ever went on this one roller coaster back home, that was made of wood and bolts.

That’s the lesson! of it,
I can without flinch or fear of doubt lie
that a cow stepped on it
which maybe makes them fear cows
for which I repent
in love as I am with those philosophical beasts
who would never smash my feet
nor sneer at them
the way my mother does:
“We always bought you good shoes, honey,”
she says, “You can’t blame us
for those things,” and for this
and other reasons
I have never indulged in the pleasure
of flip-flops shy or ashamed
digging my toes like ten tiny ostriches into the sand
at the beach with friends
who I’m not sure love me,
though I don’t think Tina loved me-
she liked me, I think-but said
to me, as we sat on lawn chairs
beside a pool where I lifeguarded and was meticulous
at obscuring from view with a book or towel
my screwy friends,
You have pretty feet,
in that gaudy, cement-mixer, Levittown accent
that sends all the lemurs scaling my ribcage to see
and she actually had pretty feet
and so I took this as a kindness incomparable and probably
fell a little bit in love with her for that afternoon
with the weird white streak in her hair
and her machinegun chatter and her gum snapping
and so slid my feet from beneath my Powerman and Iron Fist comic book
into the sun for which they acted like plants opening their tiny mouths
to the food hurtling to them through the solar system,
and like plants you could watch them almost smile,
almost say thank you, you could watch them
turn colors, and be, almost, emboldened,
none of which Tina saw
because she was probably digging in her purse
or talking about that hottie on The Real World
or yelling at some friend’s little sister to put her ass in her trunks
or pouring the crumbs of her Fritos into her thrown open mouth
but do you really think I’m talking to you about my feet?
Of course she’s dead: Tina was her name, of leukemia: so I heard-
why else would I try sadly to make music of her unremarkable kindness?
I am trying, I think, to forgive myself
for something I don’t know what.
But what I do know is that I love the moment when the poet says
I am trying to do this
or I am trying to do that.
Sometimes it’s a horseshit trick.

If so, where?

2.

Here’s why I’m thankful for it. It mentions death. It mentions violence. Body Positivity

“Feet” and “Armpit” are two poems that gab about body parts that don’t usually get a lot of love in literature or in life. Here’s a light blanket… / I can’t stop / my gratitude, which includes, dear readers, / you, for staying here with me.” Swoooooon!

If we are able to button and unbutton it, we should be thankful to be able to slip those buttons in and out of those holes. I thought it would work well together with the “I Remember” poem format since often times, we have memories that aren’t always so positive.