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22 January, 1996
first day of the new swarthmore semester
I attended art history I: Critical Study in the Visual Arts
at 8.30am
and 10.30 am
testing teachers.

the first one, a man
sure smart, perhaps insecure

some pride stake in the proceedings
he conducted the class, discussion
regularly rephrasing our remarks
his frame around our pictures.

the second class

a woman,
allowed the students to speak to each other
occasionally shed insight
most often with a question.

the first class
my knowledge would be sure
something to bang up against,
something to stand on.

the second class,
discomfort of ignorance
and prospect of peerage
there are no answers
we will find them together.

later on, Rya sez
this place makes me feel insecure
watch the power in that statement
she's given it to the school
instead of asking her to realize that
I told her

she paid kind respects for my wisdom

in spite of my stomach ache and toaster-burnt hand
instead of paying herself kind priviledge of power:
she responds insecurely to Swarthmore.

gotta learn that asking questions is about listening

and learning
having answers is finished.

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