Abstract
Members of a graduate educational ethnography course created pandemic poetry. The instructor was pedagogically stretched in translating what had always been an in-person research poetry creation experience to a virtual setting, but the students responded with powerful poetic renditions. In this article, course members’ poetry is featured, and a brief review of the course materials used and guidance provided to the class, along with a methodological reflection, are offered.
Keywords: pandemic, COVID, poetry, research poetry
An Irregular Ode to the Chair
A silky gray, blending with the velvety darkness yet standing strong against the golden blaze of the daytime.
Freckles of the metals you are mixed with dancing in the trickles of light shine through the blinds of the window—the blinds blocking the light to steal some of the joy of your embrace with the sun in a fit of jealousy.
Long, strong rods, adorned by sweat, gentle enough not to pierce soft, medium-Brown flesh, weakened by sedentary days but strong enough to endure the 300-plus pounds it weathers every day.
300-plus pounds of anxiety—the scribbles and tiny utterances of to-dos, what-ifs, hows, and whys. The mighty rods wrap in an embrace, a hug, a holding.
300-plus pounds of frustration. The staff says more cuts. More planning for the hypothetical.
Dry replies and check-ins in which nothing is said, but everything is said.
The chair is rocked back, but the solid foundation swings back with the rock.
The chair swings back but pushes forward. A fresh breath—to say, always keep going.
Reminding that forward is the only option.
300-plus pounds of laughter. Friends share sweet wine and memories.
Reminiscences turn to shared chuckles and bellows.
The laughter vibrates along the strong metal rods.
Laughing back.
When the bed folded under pressure and couldn’t handle the sleepless night,
the chair with its 24-hour sign was there.
It loved the blue haze of the laptop screen against the crisp dark room.
When the sofa couldn’t handle the rattles of restlessness,
the chair welcomed the hum of jittering legs and feet.
Oh, to be a chair in a global pandemic. The forgotten essential worker.
—James Hodges
Neighbors gathering around squad cars.
All lights are on. The place is loud.
The porch is a mess. The doors are open.
The cries of help can be heard through.
It is clear she was suffering.
The pain is visible in her face
The black eye, the broken lips.
The sad victim of domestic violence.
The stories are always the same:
Please officer make it stop!
It’s not his fault, he isn’t like that.
It was my fault. I should’ve known better.
Stop. Don’t rough him up, you brute!
Do not take him away. He is my man!
Who will bring the bacon, pay the bills?
Me and the kids will go crazy, please!
—Idilio Moncivais
Distancing
Wearing a black
mask that keeps slipping
off my ears, I approach
the woman who waves
me over. I would like
to buy a gun, I say,
silently regretting the
phrasing. I would not
like to buy a gun, but
I am compelled—like
someone is holding a
gun to my head. I am
angry but making a
special effort to be
nice. Whose fault is
this, anyway?
She gives me over to
a man who is almost
eleven years to the day
my senior, a fun fact we
discover during my
background check. He
tells me, I can’t give you
advice on what to answer.
He tells me he can’t sell
me any ammo (what they
call bullets) today
because
people have been
stockpiling it for
weeks, buying
thousands of rounds,
enough to bring down
an army, maybe.
He draws an air rectangle
from his shoulders to his
hips and tells me this is
where I need to aim. If
you shoot an intruder in
the leg, you will go to
jail. He shows me the
ideal distance from which
to fire by pointing out
a man, just an ordinary
man in a surgical mask
standing idly by a table
perhaps seven yards away
and waiting for his turn.
God forbid I ever
have to fire this thing, I will
go ahead and aim for the leg,
and take whatever hell
they see fit to unleash. They
cannot make me commit
a mortal sin, I tell myself,
but my heart collapses under
the weight of those
words, because of course
they can. There is no
limit to what they can
make me do. I am here,
aren’t I? Eighty-five
minutes from start to
finish. And who are they
anyway? Legion, for we
are many.
—Becky De Oliveira
Covid-Cute
“You look so cute.” I
adjust my daughter’s face mask—
and then I tremble.
What have I said? Covid-cute—
God forgive privilege—I can’t.
—Maria Lahman
The School Gym
Coming to the gym,
Having the secret handshake
With the physical education teacher.
Engage in activities and games
With friends.
Cheering “Go, go, go,
You can go through it”
Everyone is sweaty and smiling.
Now everyone is at home.
Want to go to school
To see friends,
Joke with friends.
Now we keep social distance.
Really, really hope that
It is not as bad as I think it is going to get.
Hope I can back to the gym soon.
—Xiaoping Fan
The Pandemic Wife
Do you even know how to sew?
The pandemic wife channels the domestic ways of her elders,
Who at some point gifted her a padded green box
printed with hearts, spools, and thimbles.
Inside, a menagerie of loose pins and lost treasures,
buttons, fool’s gold, and scissors too small for her hands.
The last craft she abandoned lies in repose:
a stick figure doll with pink fabric flesh,
hand-sewn with crooked stitches still attached to a guiding needle.
Her stitches now are no straighter
As she rations small spools of mismatched thread
to piece together cotton cloth, elastic bands, and floral wire.
Occasionally, she pierces her finger as she jabs the dull needle
through gray pleats, speckled with red.
How does it fit?
She asks her masked spouse as he leaves for the office,
as if she had the skill to change a thing.
Tomorrow’s garment will be the same.
The pandemic wife channels the domestic ways of her elders,
Who at some point gifted her a child’s toolbox
not meant for making personal protective equipment.
—Emily Royse
Methodological and Pedagogical Note
With the rest of the nation’s academy, our face-to-face graduate course on educational ethnography shifted to virtual meetings over the course of a spring break. Amid the scramble to move all the students’ research to virtual only, amend institutional review boards (IRBs) as needed, figure out how to teach and learn with children at our feet (perhaps it should always be this way), and check in on one another’s welfare, I at first determined now was not the time to hold the course session on research poetry as I usually do. It would be too much cognitive dissonance—last time someone elected to sit out from the experience. How could I translate a warm, classroom face-to-face environment where students moved through centers at their own pace creating poetry while chatting with classmates to a virtual one?
Waking deep in the night with work on my mind as usual, I review my students, shuffling their images through my mind—are they safe, sound, and in a position to learn? James should be celebrating graduation and a birthday with a first-time sibling beach trip. All of Becky’s family members, including a university student son and commuter husband, are living and working back at home while she is also needing to prepare for comps. Ping, an ocean and half a country away from family and friends, is an ever-cheerful presence as if to say, this is always the lot of the international student. Emmy already had too much stress this semester with comps, orals, and migraines. Idilio, improbably, is a police officer and a doctoral student—a frontline person at all times and especially at this time.
I sharply pivot. What if at least one of the students is ready to think and express in poetic ways? What if poetry is exactly what someone needs in a time full of end-of-year comprehensive and stat examinations? I recall past poets from past research courses, including one who went on to publish research poetry prolifically. So we write, and then deeply moved I ask permission to publish since I know even the “princess problems” of academics are real—loneliness, debt, stress, depression, long-long hours, deep thoughts, and darkness at times.
We create poetry,
I am sure you agree we did—
powerful poetry,
in a time of pandemic.
Poetry Course Instructions and Resources
What follows is a shortened version of the instructions and resources students were provided.
“Share it with your enemies too.” (Author unknown)
April is National Poetry Month in the United States.
There is a new module in Canvas on poetry.
If you wish, warm up for this experience by watching one of the following videos available in the module.
National Poetry Month #Poetry Defined https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-GBH24zOxdc
What Is Poetry? #Poetry Defined https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fKCOb8qGQE
What Makes a Poem a Poem? Ted Ed https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JwhouCNq-Fc
For this activity, you will either
1. Consider the pandemic and the experiences you are having with it as data
OR
2. Use observational field notes and interview transcripts as data.
Some of you may want to do all of the writing activities, but for class purposes you only need to choose one.
Each person will share one poem virtually during class in the form or way they wish.
Let me know if this causes anxiety in any way, and we can do break-out groups or figure out some other idea.
Pandemic as Data
If you are considering writing about the pandemic, here are some phrases I am mulling over that might be a prompt for you.
Pandemic Poetry
Poetry in a Time of Plague—Pandemic Privilege—Pandemic Pedagogy
Here are experiences that might be a source of data:
Being far from family or home during this time
Being in a state/country that may not be handling that crisis as well as your state/country of origin is
Moving face-to-face research to virtual
Working as an essential worker
Teaching children at home while working and going to school
Having your whole family live at home who usually live elsewhere
Feeling really down, worried, anxious, and helpless.
Having loved ones be sick
Working as a frontline responder and then relating to civilians
Being middle class and having a solid income, home, and resources
Not being middle class or having income loss and lack of resources
Not having health insurance
Having health insurance
Of course, there are many more.
Poetry Choices
1. Free Verse
Watch the video on what is free verse. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgM9wu3MaD0
#poetrydefined
Read posted examples of free verse poetry
2. Ode
The contemporary Ode is not required to have a form.
American odes often point out the lofty in something that is humble such as Red Wing by Joseph Miller, an ode to work boots and thereby workers.
Watch the video on what an ode is. #poetrydefined https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMmsMPNIn1g
Watch the example of an ode by Clint Smith put to graphics by Ted Ed. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OGoehR_k0Xk
3. Haiku
There are only three lines, totaling 17 syllables.
The first line is five syllables.
The second line is seven syllables.
The third line is five syllables like the first.
Punctuation and capitalization are up to the poet and need not follow the rigid rules used in structuring sentences.
Watch Haiku by Poetry Defined https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUNc6L90UT8
Most importantly have fun!
Love Is for Everybody: Final Class Period
Our final class period was held through Zoom. Along with reports on research studies, students shared the poetry they had created. For me, this is always a jaw-dropping experience as research poetry novices share their first ventures. We ended the semester by viewing the graphic video version of the poem “For Estefani” by Aracelis Girmay.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DcIYMCC0M1w&list=PLJicmE8fK0Egxi0hgy5Tw-NFyLcpJ4bzJ&index=13&t=0s
Even more so than at the end of the semester, given the context of protest during a pandemic that has gripped the nation, if you have not seen the graphic video version of this poem I encourage you to take a look—Love is for everybody.
Author Biographies
Maria K. E. Lahman is a professor in the department of Applied Statistics and Research Methods at the University of Northern Colorado, USA, where she teaches qualitative research methodology. Her specialty area is the advancement of ethical research with an emphasis on aesthetic representations, diversity, and young children.
Becky De Oliveira is a doctoral student in the Department of Applied Statistics and Research Methods at the University of Northern Colorado. She specializes in qualitative and mixed methodologies.
Xiaoping Fan is a doctoral student in sport pedagogy at the University of Northern Colorado. Her research area is teacher education, teacher socialization, teacher professional development, and quality physical education.
James Hodges is a program coordinator at the University of Northern Colorado. His specialty areas of research are minority experience, sense of belonging, and ethical behavior.
Idilio Moncivais-Pinedo is a doctoral student in the Department of Applied Statistics and Research Methods at the University of Northern Colorado. He is the chief data architect for Centurylink, a Fortune 100 technology company. Idilio is also a law enforcement POST certified and sworn Colorado Ranger who specializes in cases of domestic violence.
Emily A. Royse is a Ph.D. candidate in the School of Biological Sciences at the University of Northern Colorado where she teaches anatomy and physiology lab courses. Her research emphasis is science identity development, primarily in anatomy and physiology education contexts.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests: The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding: The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
ORCID iD: Maria K. E. Lahman 
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-2384-0948