Poem: The Four-Year-Old’s Keys

The Four-Year-Old’s Keys was composed by an IN reader in response to another reader’s comments regarding a post: Weasels Pimped My Kid. She’s Goin’ to Harvard! For contextual sake here are the comments followed by the poem:

Reader’s comment:

I’ve got a different view.

In High School, the most important class I took was keyboarding/typing on one of those old typewriters with changeable ribbon where you pecked on the keyboards and occasionally would have to stop to unstick the keys.

No one really understood the value of that class… except for me at the time.

Learning how to type was so important because once I passed High School, college would only accept type written papers.

I made a killing off other students who couldn’t type just typing out there handwritten papers.

Now my 4 year old son not only has his own email, he has his own website and is learning basic computer programming!

What does he want for christmas? His own computer!

Guess what… you can ask anyone that has met my son, that he is the most polite, sincere, nice, and well educated 4 year old that one has ever met…. and yes I’m biased… but ask those that know me…and my son… I’m not hard to find… nor is my son ;)

Island Notes response:

I think typing is a worthwhile skill too.

You determining your son’s computer usage is one thing. (Btw, does he use one at school too?)

My comments are more of an observation that corporations tend to manipulate learning to further their market-share. That particular essay contest was worthy of further analysis, in my opinion. Teachers and students certainly shouldn’t be accepting such absurd rhetoric as that quoted from the Samsung website.

And I’m sincere when I say congratulations on their ‘winning’ some tech-stuff at the school. An ongoing policy theme of Island Notes probably goes something like, “corporate interests, and community concerns are usually quite different and these corporate interests are much more invasive (organized, if you like) such that we as a community need to discuss these things, lest we let corporations determine how we live.”

It’s high time I get down to lower puna and hope to meet up sometime. (I seem to get only as far as Maku’u market these days.)

Thanks for sharing your view.

The Four-Year-Old’s Keys by Courtney Carroll

If typing was the most important class

because handwritten papers were banned in college,

then I must be the railroad tracks’ ambitions

or discarded leaflets

left on seat depressions lined with popcorn.

I must be the salad days of a couch.

The unused lemon. Every line ever drawn

in the sand, the banister or the one accused

of forgetting the raffle tickets.

Chickenpox. The underside of the soap dish

the funeral procession sticker

no one wants on their windshield or

hair trimmed

spinning carelessly to floor piles.

If one form of answering is important

Because all other forms of answering are

on the endangered species list

then I must be

the hungry crowd’s warnings

thrown at the theater screen or

arriving fray of the ending sun

on a child’s computer programming-program,

further speeding the rabbit’s quietly

soft beating

white pulse.

All the singed substance

of singing about singing

now making a killing while killing meaning

Domains of perception

curtailed by dominant paradigms

measured immeasurable ways of knowing

Even centuries, assumed.

those obscure and shrouded beauties

tree voice

shamanic flight

endless capabilities extinct

to our triumphant permissible.


3 thoughts on “Poem: The Four-Year-Old’s Keys

  1. Fred,

    a tear for this truth

    though can’t repeat through study.

    Jelly screen and tubes

    give me their answers, do.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s