English Paper 2 2016

Our Sixth Formers have just finished their marathon in the sticky heat. English Literature is over, and most seemed tired but happy with the exam papers.

First, the answer to the tedious question: Emily Dickinson, T.S.Eliot, Elizabeth Bishop, Paul Durcan. Only worth just over half the marks available for the Unseen poem (this time one from the Polish writer Czeslaw Milosz - why not a poem originally written in English, and why no credit for the co-translator of 'And Yet the Books'? Robert Haas), but still. The questions were fair, and not too wordy.

Our candidates, like most others', studied King Lear as the single text, and both questions were untroublesome: Lear and Gloucester compared, and 'the destructive and redemptive power of love' (those two adjectives may have sidetracked some - were they both properly addressed, and did all candidates understand 'redemptive'?).

For the comparative, it was Cultural Context and Genre. 'Challenging aspects' of cultural contexts might have tested some. 'Authors can use various techniques to make settings real and engaging' for Genre will have had some candidates straying into Cultural Context, but no problem if under control.

No problems either for the small number of Ordinary candidates. Evidence that life is sometimes difficult for Gloucester is not exactly hard to find. Relationships and social setting for the comparative, and easy enough poems too ('Filling Station' and 'I felt a funeral' we'd already tested). Good choice for the Unseen, too: the lovely 'Mother, Washing Dishes' by Susan Myers.

English Leaving Certificate Paper 1 2016

In November 2011 our Second Formers would have been among the audiences for the most recent Shakespeare Society production, The Comedy of Errors. Today memories of that evening may well have come back on opening the Higher Level Paper 1 on the first day of their Leaving Certificate, since after turning the cover page they would have been confronted by no fewer than four different posters for Shakespeare's first play (described in Andrew Dickson's text as being unfairly categorised as 'a creaky and mechanistic farce' - we were aiming for lightness in a production backed by the Bee Gees). The number and busyness of the images in this question was a welcome challenge compared to some rather thinner 'image' questions in the past.

Another SCC connection was seen in the second text, from Sara Baume's 2015 novel spill simmer falter wither, an interesting choice that was first published by Old Columban Sarah Davis-Goff's Tramp Press: it is good to see such recent innovative Irish writing on the paper.

On a different note, the third text was a more familiar standard public speech, this time by President Obama at NASA in 2010 (see below), with quite predictable questions about such rhetoric.

The three 'B' questions were quite detailed; some concentration was certainly needed to get the register just right. Text Three, on Obama, asked for a blogpost - not an entirely helpful direction for register, if no context is given about what kind of blog it is.

Composition titles were also straightforward, and candidates can't complain they would not have plenty of options.

Six of our 61 candidates took the Ordinary Level paper which, as usual, was designed not to frighten. The Easter 1916 Rising made its appearance in extracts from diary entries by two eye-witnessses, one a volunteer and the other a British officer. Several of the composition titles could easily have been on the Higher Paper.

Now on to Literature tomorrow.

Voices of Poetry 2016

Last Sunday evening saw again the lovely annual occasion which is Voices of Poetry, expertly co-ordinated for the eighth year by Mr Swift. As we have often mentioned, it is an infallible formula - lovely short poems in different languages read on the final 'full' weekend of the year. And so often it seems blissfully sunny outside, contrasting with the dark hush of the Big Schoolroom, which is broken by a single spotlight. The photograph was taken 15 minutes before the event began, on the way to the BSR.

Nyla Jamieson's 'Dancing', written for the Senior Poetry, was first up, followed by another entry, Oisin Large's 'The Time has Come'. Second Prefect Bunmi Oyateru then read a poem by Amiri Baraka. The foreign language poems started with one in Russian (Elizaveta Kozhevnikova). Douglas Boyd Crotty followed with Irish and Jack Thurk with 'American' ('On the Death of a Next-Door Neighbor').

French was represented by Ciara Gumsheimer and Spanish by Juliane Hastedt. Charlotte Moffitt recited her Poetry Aloud entry, Yeats's 'The Song of Wandering Aengus' and four poems followed in other languages read by Pia Zulauf (German), Swedish (Louvisa Karlsson-Smythe), Latin (Callum Pery-Knox-Gore) and Italian (Gabriella Castagna Rubio).

A tradition has it that retiring teachers are invited to read, and Mrs Haslett read out a hugely entertaining section of Carol Ann Duffy's 'The Laughter of Stafford Girls' High' (listen to a version in a Joanna Lumley programme here). She was followed by the Chaplain, who arrived this year, and who amused all by reading in a 'language' never heard before at this event: Cockney.

Catalan (Gemma Rodriguez, from Andorra) and Portuguese (Rafael Mendes) followed, and then the newest member of the English Department, Mrs Donnelly, read 'The Horses' by Ted Hughes. She was followed by the outstanding winner of the Junior Poetry Prize, Tania Stokes, with her winning entry 'Metaphorest'.

The Warden, Dr Haslett, retires at the end of this term, and he read two poems: Michael Longley's superb 'Ceasefire' (read by the poet himself here) and Tennyson's 'Crossing the Bar'. A real contrast was Chingrui Yan's short poem in Chinese.

Finally, three pupils wrapped up the evening: Helena Gromotka, winner of this year's Peter Dix Memorial Prize for Poetry with 'Maybe', Senior Prefect Harvey McCone with his favourite poem, 'He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven' by W.B. Yeats, and Sol Guitart Rivero from Primary with her own sweet poem 'Love'. A fine note on which to end an evening full of love for the written and spoken word.

'Dancing'

Another poem from the entries for the Senior Poetry Prize, this time by Nyla Jamieson. Nyla read this out as the first poem at this year's Voices of Poetry.

Dancing

The ashes danced in the wind

Teasing the grass below

The earth stretched out its short green arms

But the ashes flew just out of their reach.

Tears fell but the ashes soared

Oblivious to the pain they caused

Prayers were said and hymns were sung

The ashes pirouetted to this bitter sweet symphony.

Finally the dancers grew weary

They settled into the earth’s warm embrace.

As the mourners shuffled away they said they would miss her

But she was already gone.

The ashes may have been a part of her

But what made her her was well gone

While her ashes flitted in the breeze

Her soul had fled to that unknown place.

Years later her family still came

And shed a tear or two

Not even her ashes remained to see this grief

They were off touring the world.

This love was not for them to see

This grave was not for her

Graves, funerals and mourning are for the living

The dead dance on, indifferent.

'Nigeria'

For the recent Senior Poetry Prize, Oluwakorede Oyegbade wrote this poem about his native country, which Mr Canning called 'exceptional'.


Nigeria
 

A fruitful land of magnificent, majestic grandeur,

Green pastures, blue sky and exquisite radiant sun.

How vibrantly the coloured plumages of birds soaring by,

The flowing mane of the horses jumping high.

The exuberance and ebullience of the natives

Dancing, singing and expressing their creativity,

For this is how we convey our passion,

The perfect epitome of self expression.

For supremacy and dominance have control over all things,

Their chains wrapped around our hands like handcuffs.

Inferior we are to them, who stare in the mirror beside many,

But notice only their two squinting eyes gleaming with self adoration.

An empty void fills their chest, they fail to provide for the rest.

The land becomes barren and unfruitful

As the superior laugh and purloin.

The situation worsens and we suffer in silence.

The idea of change becomes merely a facade.

On our knees we get down and pray

To the Most High, who makes it possible to see another day.

Our desires they diminish and trample, but our spirits they shall not devour.

Faith and hope our most prized possession,

As we put on our masks of pretence.

Therefore our creativity we must establish, our humour we must pursue

For although the body looks weary,

Our souls must never worry.

Two Poems

Oisin Large's poems in the recent Senior Poetry Prize competition were commended by Mr Canning: "Oisin wrote a strong body of poems and his experimental one ‘Opposite Line’ very interesting and his coming of age piece celebrating his mother whilst saying goodbye was poignantly sweet."
 

OPPOSITE line and other sorts

What exactly was it about?

Was it below the above line or

Was I absent from its presence?

It was my lack of abundance and

I refused to accept the truth of line,

Yet I must admit that I denied the signs

That the child gave me, I thought I was an adult

Who knew all about the opposite line.

What happened before the line after I asked?

Were you too afraid to be brave or

Was the line possibly impossible to see?

These modern questions do not answer these ancient riddles

This is beginning to end.

I amuse myself, knowing that I bore you.

A fine mess this is.

The opposite line is bitter-sweet.

It is black on white lines.

It has no body, no, only a soul.

It cannot be fixed, as it is broken in many ways.

When it is cloudy, then it will be clear to you as to were the line is.

Do Tell Me When You Find It…

The time has come

The time has come, mother; I am leaving.

Hear me, I am the last one from the nest

And know that you have helped me believing

That I have the potential to be with the rest.

The time has come, mother; for me to embrace the next life.

To learn of new friends and of old worlds

I can see their many faces, those eager eyes

That I can see from afar, I will have new wings.

I remember the little things that you taught me.

I remember your unconditional love

That you gave me in the darkest hours

Erasing my bad dreams.

I remember the toy soldiers.

I remember the little things

Even with the weight of me on your shoulders

And accepting my blame, again and again.

I am here now, mother; to pronounce my departure

I will leave soon, mother; to walk before you

The time has come, mother; to say Thank You.

Peter Dix Memorial Prize for Poetry 2016

Congratulations to Helena Gromotka, winner of this year's Senior Poetry Prize. 

Mr Canning, the judge, writes that her poems show "a very mature control of language, precisely distilled but intimately conversational. What was most impressive was how her poems contained and restrained powerful feelings and emotions."  Here are two of her entries (some from other candidates will shortly be published).


'Maybe'

Maybe coffee stunted my growth, or maybe

It taught me to associate bitterness with desire,

To see the world through darkening eyeliner

And expect disappointment, and pain

that won’t be fixed through appointments.

Maybe cigarettes killed my lungs, or maybe

They just taught me how to breathe out negativity

To worry less about age and more about agility

And run out of breath running after buses:

Red-cheeked, like a sunset.

Every time the sun sets it rises,

And every time I’m born, I die.

The world is washed clean again

And again, it waits for me to catch up

Before moving on toward tomorrow.

And tomorrow, God help me,

I will wait for myself.

'Daydream'

I’m drowning in a salty sea,

One I have produced.

Red, blue and yellow glares

As my breaths silently reduce.

I hear muffled voices

With words I can’t quite make out.

I think I hear my mother

How I wish she wouldn’t shout.

I think I hear my father.

I think that he is crying.

I think that he is fearful;

Fearful of me dying.

I feel my heart has stopped

But why am I still

Here.

If this is the afterlife,

I wasn’t thinking clear.

I see the doctors tell my parents

There was nothing they could do.

Their precious little angel

Just could not make it through.

Fast forward to my funeral

As I watch from the back

And everyone cries the same

Salty sea, in uniforms of black.

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'King Lear' revision resources

Six revision podcasts -
The opening scene
The play's bleak vision
The Good Guys - Kent and Albany
Quotation auto-test
Blindness and seeing
The End of the Play

Five ShowMe analyses (series not yet complete)
Act I scene i - Confusion and uncertainty.
Act I scene i - Love and be silent. 
Act I scene i - See better.
Act I scene i - Unruly waywardness.
Act i scene ii - Excellent foppery.

The Shakespeare Yippy search engine: look for key words, test yourself on quotations etc.

The entire play (copy to your device). 

The King Lear LitChart. 

National Theatre video talks:-
Kent and the Fool
Goneril, Regan and Cordelia
Gloucester, Edmund and Edgar
Lear - Simon Russell Beale 
   

Roger Allam as Lear below with 'Blow winds, and crack your cheeks...' below. And see Riz Ahmed here as Edmund with 'Now, gods, stand up for bastards.'   

'The Columban', July 1916

An extraordinary project is approaching its final stages, with the digitisation of past editions of The Columban (the school magazine) and the Old Columban Society magazines, through the generous work of Patrick Hugh Lynch. They are a goldmine for all interested in the history of the College. In June there will be a formal launch of the project, but for the moment here is a taster - the first edition of The Columban after the Easter 1916 rising. As you can read for yourself, in those days the College didn't exactly support the nationalist consensus ...

(click on the arrows to zoom in, on the arrows again for the closest look).

Sylvia Plath revision presentation

Many thanks to Mrs Donnelly for sharing this very helpful revision presentation for pupils revising Sylvia Plath for the Leaving Certificate (click on the full screen icon to read it easily):

Paul Durcan presentation

Many thanks to Mrs Donnelly for making and sharing this very helpful revision presentation on the poetry of Paul Durcan, for Leaving Certificate pupils (click on the full screen icon to read it easily):

Eileán Ní Chuilleanáin reads and discusses her poem 'All For You'

Poetry Ireland have a handy resource for those studying  Eileán Ní Chuilleanáin for the Leaving Certificate, with a lesson plan and also this engaging video of the poet discussing and reading her poem 'All For You'. She did this for us, too, in her visit to the Big Schoolroom last term for our Sixth Formers.

Willis Memorial Prize for the Knowledge of Shakespeare 2016

Congratulations to Hollie Canning, who has won this year's Shakespeare Prize, after sitting an examination on the plays and a sonnet.

Saturday is the 400th anniversary of  Shakespeare's death (and also his 452nd birthday), and on Monday all Sixth and Fifth Form will receive a Shakespeare400 supplement from the Irish Independent.

'The Cat', 'Love'

Two more poems from the recent Junior Poetry Prize, this time from a Second Former and a First Former.


'The Cat', by Megan Bulbulia

They always seemed to give me
a cold dark glare,
Scrutinising my every move
As if I was in danger.

The way they move,
So dramatic, as if in slow-motion,
The way they strike:
Unforgiving, with no deliberation.

They’re independent with no doubt.
They hide and lurk in shadows.
But when they’re in the light,
They illuminate such radiance.

Their coats shine bright,
Their paws patter softly.
And as they sleep, by your side,
They purr away loudly.

Now I’m not a danger,
I’m no surprise,
They look at me lovingly
With warm bright eyes.



'Love' by Imogen Casey

I sat on a bench looking out at the city,
my phone on the ground, my heart in my hands.
The woman beside me stared with pity,
as a small tear rolled down my cheek.

I stepped in a cab without giving instructions.
The driver looked at me without disruption.
My family were praying just by the door,
all of them kneeling, heads down on the floor.

The body it lay as still as a rock.
Everyone here was all still in shock.
The arms were crossed, the eyes were shut,
the small scar on his arm where he was cut.

Now there is not a thing left of him.
Not even a trace, a scent or a sight.

Willis Prize for the Knowledge of Shakespeare

The Willis Memorial Shakespeare Prize 2016 will be held on Monday 18th April (the week of Shakespeare’s birthday and deathday) at 7.15pm to 8.45pm in Adare or 4 to 5.30pm in the Library

 (other times are possible if you find these difficult: see JMG).

All pupils in these forms have studied at least one play by Shakespeare, which you can use in the general question (60 minutes) about his plays.  Questions will be very open, allowing you to show your knowledge of and insights into the play(s) you choose.  

In addition, you can/should use knowledge of any other plays you have studied, read, or seen on stage / film.

The second question (30 minutes) will be an unseen poetry question on a sonnet by Shakespeare.

Junior Poetry Prize

Congratulations to Tania Stokes, who for the second year in a row has won the Junior Poetry Prize, this time for her poem 'Metaphorest'. 

Well done also to Megan Bulbulia, Imogen Casey, Harry Oke-Osanyintolu, Guy Fitzgibbon and Sol Guitart Rivero, who receive Distinctions for their entries, some of which will be published here.


'Metaphorest'
by Tania Stokes

The springtime garden was in bloom,
Pansies and cosmos, tulips and roses,
Ivy clambering up the trellis.
Purples, pinks and whites and yellows
Surrounded me, as I sat on the deck.
The sunlight filtered through the eucalyptus
And I used to go to far-off places;
I could sometimes hear the sea.

One day, you floated here on the breeze,
Planting yourself into my life.
The garden was never quite the same
Once you began to spread,
Your brambles tangling, choking the competition.
Shadows fell over the house,
As you rose up to dominate it all,
Holding me in your thorny grasp.

You had taken over completely.

The wind changed, come Autumn
When you blossomed into something richer.
You finally brought forth your sweetness,
As ripe blackberries sprung up everywhere.
Each one was a memory full of flavour,
And as we shared them, I knew
That you had taken root in my heart.

Senior Poetry Prize 2016

Term starts today, and tomorrow we will have news of the results of the Junior Poetry Prize, completed last term.

Here are details of this year's Peter Dix Memorial Prize for Poetry (for Seniors):-

All entries are to be typed and sent to Mr.Canning at lcanning@staff.stcolumbas.iemailto:scc.english@yahoo.ie by the evening of Monday 16th May.

Entries should contain a portfolio of  between two and five poems based on or inspired by the idea of either :-
PLACE
or
PEOPLE

Poems should be at least ten lines long, and typed.  The winning entry will be based on the overall standard of the entrant’s body of poems. There will also be a prize for the best poem if it is not in the winner’s selection. All other strong entries will be posted on this site.

The English Department will also give smaller book-tokens to strong entries that do not win the Prize.

You can treat the ideas, ‘Place’, or ‘People’ in a free way: any connection is fine, as long as the poems are clearly connected by image, inspiration, theme, form, situation, context …

The Peter Dix Memorial Prize for Poetry was presented by the Dix family in memory of Peter, who died in the Lockerbie tragedy in 1988.  The memorial, by sculptor Joe Sloan, is kept in the Library
and inscribed with the names of past winners (pictured above).