teaching
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The Election and the Ash Borer
Does it matter what words a sign says when a symbol says so much more? A white X. A carved swastika. Things get torn down from less.
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#SuicideGirls: Why I Teach Sylvia Plath
But let’s not forget: feminism is, at least in part, about choice, and portions of life are play, not politics. Play and relationships and creativity and whatever we want.
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This Week in Essays
Over at The Walrus, Fatima Syed looks to build space in popular culture for depictions of different types of Muslims. With a sinking feeling, Kristen Arnett looks inside herself and finds nothing but the swamp of Florida’s influence in a reflective essay for Lit Hub. Alcy…
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Readers Report: The New Patriot
A collection of short pieces written by Rumpus readers pertaining to the subject of “The New Patriot.”
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On the Front Lines
When you pick up a pen instead of a rifle, you’re fighting an entirely different battle. This is my duty. This is my patriotism.
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Reading Colum McCann to My Daughter
I think we need to listen closer for the stories that shake us up the most … and then share them and talk about them with the people we love. And the people we don’t.
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Finding Shelter
A hurricane is coming. Rita is in the Gulf of Mexico and is approaching Houston at a slow but steady pace of nine miles an hour. I don’t have many, or any, illusions that God and Jesus will see us…
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The Storming Bohemian Punks the Muse #27: Spring Is Sprung
It is springtime for sure in the house of The Storming Bohemian and Argyle C. Klopnik. All day, every day, Klopnik digs his garden. Our once-chaotic backyard is now a richly soiled pile of black, with a section of lawn…
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The Storming Bohemian Punks the Muse #23: The Love Song for Argyle C. Klopnik
File this one under “they can’t Trump everything; life goes on.” Last week, I got caught up in reflections on poverty in America: mine, yours, and ours. This week, I decided to do something about it and buckle down to design…
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The Sunday Rumpus Essay: The Hammock
Birth, death. We live in the middle. “What’s it like?” Lee asks. “Is it a door, and goodbye on either side?” Just like the stars, one day we all collapse, our mass and light and energy exploding into nothingness.

