Rousseau's spiked fence was
tall, ornate, intricate,
a cast-iron invitation
to a gracious impalement.
Education must, said he,
let the child choose
to walk that fence,
to learn not to walk that fence.
Skipping along its ridge
is an ecstasy of defiance,
and tripping, a humiliation
of pain and scars.
The child is the child's
teacher; there are no grades,
though the dead perforce
will fail the course.
The "Child on a fence"
example is apocryphal
and probably the most
famous quote Rousseau
never said. It is an
extrapolation of his
theory of childhood
education in his book
"Emile", arguing that
children must be allowed
to educate themselves.
Only by suffering the
consequences of doing
something unwise will
the child learn not to
do it, even if the act
of learning involves
discomfort or pain.
Old folks die noisy deaths.
This is not the received wisdom of youth
who firmly believe in the
silent slide to oblivion
"He just closed his eyes,
and was gone!"
she gushed with a smile,
As though describing a child's first steps.
The truth is
Great-aunts drop casseroles onto
hard kitchen floors,
as their chests burst,
Widowers knock over tables
lurching from bed
clutching their throats,
A farmer scolds his dog,
-- gone 40 years --
for chasing sheep,
And the mother rips
tubes from her arms,
cursing the nurse
for poisoning her.
Part 2
The dying man
hears the loudest noise.
He carries from birth a
metal bowl into which drop
steel balls, at odd moments,
unexpectedly.
He walks alone down a long
crystal arcade, lined
with glass cabinets.
The bowl becomes heavy
and he grows frail.
He pitches forward and the perfectly elastic
spheres bounce everywhere,
a cacophany of clack-clack-clack
and breaking glass.
He lies, clinging to the sounds,
life oozing from his mouth
with each moan,
Not fully gone
until silence follows
the last tap.
