They take a poem
and dehydrate it of meaning,
mutilate its stanzas,
until it is cold
and formulaic
and plain
and smells like rubbing alcohol--
until it has been sufficiently
sterilized of
color
beauty
and really, contemplation.
It is now ready for the dissection.
The poem is cut,
sliced,
massacred
into multiple choice questions.
Let the thought-dissolving
anxiety-causing
assessments begin.
The future of education
at the mercy of standardization
DO NOT WRITE OUTSIDE THIS BOX.
-R.Jackson, 2 Cor.4:7
