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EFFECTS OF CHILD ABUSE ON PERFORMANCE OF PRIMARY SCHOOL IN KAPYEMIT WARD, TURBO CONSTITUENCY, UASIN-GISHU COUNTY.





BY
ERICK NYAKUNDI
KIS/03013/14




A RESEARCH PROJECTSUBMITED TO THE SCHOOL OF ARTS AND SOCIAL SCIENCES, DEPARTMENT OF SOCIOLOGY AND PSYCHOLOGY IN THE PARTIAL FULFILMENT FOR THE AWARD OF THE DEGREE OF BACHELOR OF SOCIOLOGY



MAY, 2014

DECLARATION

I, the undersigned, declare that this project is my original work and that it has not been presented in any other university or institution for academic credit.

Signature...............................................­..... Date...................................
ERICK NYAKUNDI
KIS/03013/14






SUPERVISOR
This project has been submitted for examination with my approval as university supervisor
DR. W. O. ABUYA
Signature..................................................­.. Date....................................




DEDICATION
I dedicate this work to my Dad, Mom, my sister Lydia and my lovely brother Dun who contributed in one way or another to make this project to be successful.


















ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
I would like to thank all individuals who contributed and sacrificed their time towards completion of this project.
To my supervisor, for the guidance and support in the development of this research project, His advice and criticism made this project what it is.
Thanks to colleagues and friends for their suggestions, advice and encouragement. To all of you may God bless you abundantly for your tireless effort.

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Contents Page
DECLARATION i
DEDICATION ii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT iii
TABLE OF CONTENTS iv
LIST OF TABLES vii
LIST OF FIGURE viii
ABSTRACT ix
CHAPTER ONE 10
STUDY OVERVIEW AND STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM 10
1.1 Background of the Study 10
1.2 Research Questions 13
1.3 Research Objectives 13
1.4 Justification of the Study 13
1.5 Significance of the Study 14
1.6 Scope of the Study 15
1.6.1Assumptions of the Study 16
CHAPTER TWO 17
LITERATURE REVIEW 17
2.1 Introduction 17
2.2 Common Forms of Child Abuse 17
2.2.1 Child ****** Abuse 17
2.2.2 Physiological or Emotional Abuse 17
2.2.3 Physical Abuse 18
2.2.4 Child Neglect or Abandonment 18
2.2.4.1 Physical Neglect 19
2.2.4.2 Educational Neglect 19
2.2.4.3 Medical Neglect 19
2.2.5 Child Fatalities 20
2.3 How Child Abuse Affects Academic Performance 20
2.3.1 Child Abuse and Academic Performance 20
2.3.2 Child Abuse and School Image 23
2.3.3 Child Abuse and Dropout Rate 25
2.4 Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 26
2.4.1 Role of Public Regulation 26
2.4.1.1 Nurturing and Attachment 27
2.4.1.2 Social Connections 27
2.5 Theoretical Framework 27
2.5.1 Learning Theory 28
2.5.1.1 Relationship with the Study 28
2.5.2 Family Dysfunction Theory 29
2.5.2.1 Relationship with the Study 29
CHAPTER THREE 30
RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY 30
3.0 Introduction 30
3.1 Site Description 30
3.2 Research Design 30
3.3.1 Target Population 30
3.3.2 Sample Size and Sampling Procedure 31
3.4 Description of Research Instruments 32
3.4.1 Research Instrument 32
3.4.1.1 Questionnaire 32
3.5 Data Collection Procedure 32
3.5.1 Validity and Reliability of Research Instruments 33
3.5.1.1 Reliability of Research Instruments 33
3.5.1.2 Validity 33
3.6 Data Analysis and Presentation 33
CHAPTER FOUR 35
DATA PRESENTATION AND ANALYSIS 35
4.0 Introduction 35
4.1 Background Information 35
4.1.1 Age of the Respondents 35
4.1.2 *** of the Respondents 35
4.1.3 Education Level of the Respondents 36
4.1.4 Marital Status 36
4.2 Specific Information 37
4.2.1 Effects of Child Abuse on Academic Performance 37
4.2.2 How Child Abuse Affects Dropout Rate of Students in School 38
4.2.3 Proposed Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 41
CHAPTER FIVE 43
SUMMARY, CONCLUSION AND RECOMMENDATIONS 43
5.0 Introduction 43
5.1 Summary of the findings 43
5.2 Discussion of the Findings 44
5.3 Conclusion 45
5.4 Recommendations 46
REFERENCES 47

LIST OF TABLES & FIGURES
Table 3.1 Target population 32
Table 3.1 Sample size 33
Table 4.1 Age of the Respondents 36
Table 4.2 *** of the Respondents 37
Table 4.3 Education Level of the Respondents 37
Table 4.4 Marital Status 38
Table 4.5 Effects of Child Abuse on Academic Performance 38
Table 4.6 How Child Abuse Affects Dropout Rate of Students in School 40
Figure 4.1 Views of the Pupils on Abuse 41
Table 4.7 Proposed Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 42





















ABSTRACT
Child abuse is the physical, ****** or emotional maltreatment or neglect of a child or children. The consequences of child maltreatment can be profound and may endure long after the abuse or neglect occurs. The purpose of the study was to investigate the effect of child abuse on school performance in Primary Schools in Kapyemit ward, Uasin-Gishu County. The objectives of the study were: To assess the impacts of child abuse on academic performance; to determine the effects of child abuse on schools image, to identify the impacts of child abuse on pupil drop out rate, to investigate the effects of child abuse on pupil transition rate. The study employed a survey study design. The study targeted 160 respondents which includes; 5 Head Teachers, 40 Teachers, 70 Pupils and 35 parents of which a sample size of 48 was obtained from using 30%. Purposive sampling technique was used in selecting the head teachers while simple random sampling technique will be used to select the teachers, Pupils and parents who formed the respondents of the study. Questionnaires and interview schedules were used as data collection instruments. Data was analyzed quantitatively and qualitatively and presented in form of tables, percentages and frequency. The study helped in the understanding of the effects of child abuse on the school performance, the realization of the roles parents and teachers play in the curbing of child abuse among pupils and raising awareness on the same.

CHAPTER ONE
STUDY OVERVIEW AND STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM
1.1 Background of the Study
Child abuse is the physical, ****** or emotional maltreatment or neglect of a child or children. The consequences of child maltreatment can be profound and may endure long after the abuse or neglect occurs. The effects can appear in childhood, adolescence, or adulthood, and may affect various aspects of an individual's development (e.g., physical, cognitive, psychological, and behavioral). These effects range in consequence from minor physical injuries, low self-esteem, attention disorders, and poor peer relations to severe brain damage, extremely violent behavior, and death. In extreme cases, child abuse affects the performance of schools in the affected region (Daniel, 1978).
Performance refers to how students deal with their academic studies and how they cope with or accomplish different tasks given to them by their teachers. Performance is also the ability of a school to portray a good image which can influence the public (Decastro, 1978). There are several factors that influence the performance of a school at large, however, there is a critical factor that most researchers have avoided to discuss, and child abuse has been a crucial factor that has contributed to children’s dismal performance. Apart from children’s personal intelligence, child abuse is among then key factors contributing to poor performance of learners. Child abuse can lead to school dropping, emotional trauma or can even be fatal, hence destructing or even terminating the educational ambitions of a child. (Harris, 2005)
Worldwide, according to World Health Organization (WHO, 2000) approximately 40 million children are subjected to child abuse each year. According to Human Rights Watch (2001) about 30% of all severely disabled children relegated to special homes in the Ukraine died before they reached 18 years of age. UNICEF estimates that two million children died as a result of armed conflict during a recent 10-year period and that another six million were injured or disabled. In Canada, the U.S. and Mexico, over 6.5 million children annually are exposed to unwanted ****** materials over the internet; over 1.7 million of these report distress over exposure to these materials. In the United States, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the Department for Children and Families (DCF) define child maltreatment as any act or series of acts of commission or omission by a parent or other caregiver that results in harm, potential for harm, or threat of harm to a child. Child abuse can occur in a child's home, or in the organizations, schools or communities the child interacts with. Each year, approximately one million children around the world are introduced into commercial ****** exploitation despite this problem; these developed countries have put measures to curb the vice. Rehabilitation schools have been formed and introduction of counseling centers as well. Despite the prevalence of child abuse in this developed nations they narrowly affect the academic performance since there are organizations put in place to curb the situation e.g. child associations, guidance and counseling institutions, and school based counseling programs (Giles, 2001)
Concern for victims of child abuse in Africa expressed by the African network of the International Society for The Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect (ISPCAN) which gave five main presentations of child abuse: child labor, street wandering, ****** abuse, child battering and abandonment (Elma, 1977). Child labor according to the international labor organization (ILO), about 10 million children less than 15years in Africa are in formal employment, working long hours with poor pay and are exposed to substantial health hazards. Wandering of children refers to children, usually unkempt and with delinquent propensities, living rough in town. The reasons for children taking to the street remain poorly understood particularly in relation to factors in the child rather than parental hostility and economic (Dubowitz, 2002)
****** abuse is another. For example, arranged under-age marriages are common in some parts of the continent and doubt was often expressed as to whether a young girl fully gave consent to being betrothed (Galdsone, 1965). Prevalence rates in Africa are very difficult to ascertain because of the fear of disclosure by victims and lack of proper documentation. Most of the girls by reasons of shame fear or surprisingly respect for their usually older perpetrators. Physical battering is also eminent. Physical abuse of children is widely claimed to berate in the third world; however, there are anecdotes from east Africa skeletal frame or localized body areas of all first attendees aged 0-12 years at this hospital during the four-year period 1 January 1987 to 31 December 1990 (Garbarino, 1975). Sixty-nine of these reports reveals evidence of multiple bone fractures wither without evidence of rib or skull fracture. Abandonment of children to roam around the streets in what we call street children is also eminent in Africa, though valid and adequate information on abandonment are difficult to obtain due mainly to failure of offending parents to show up out of guilt, shame, judicial repercussions or a combination of these. However, some euro-American missionaries identified inter alia breech birth. (Erickson, 2003)
Child protection measures in Kenya are currently not implemented effectively and fully (Galdstone, 1965). Compliance with such legislation would increase if the magnitude of the problem and better knowledge about the factors that put children at risk was available. Additionally, involving stakeholders, especially agencies charged with protection, as well as involving affected children, will highlight the issues and thereby promote adherence to protection policies. Kenyan children, child activists and children organizations are pinning their hopes on the implementation of the Children’s Act to improve the lot of the nation’s youth. The Act, which came into effect on 1 March 2002, puts in place full safeguards for the rights of the child. Its passage was a giant stride in harmonizing the national laws with international agreements which Kenya has signed such as the UN Conventions on the Rights of the Child (CRC, 2002)
There is hope that the new legislation will dramatically change the inattention, neglect and abuse towards child rights. The Act outlaws any form discrimination of children, and forbids Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), child prostitution, and child labor, among other forms of abuse. The Children’s Act has immensely improved the lives of many Kenyan children plagued with high illiteracy levels, frequent **** cases and child labor since it guarantees children the right to health and medical care, provision of which is the responsibility of the parents, the extended family and the government (Erickson, 2005).
Cases of child abuse in Uasin-Gishu region have been so eminent in the recent years ((Kenya Media Report, 2004). In the year 2010 and the year 2011, there was a program started to rehabilitate this behavior. This problem is clearly evident when you first arrive in Eldoret town, it is among the towns in the country with the highest number of abandoned children who keep on moving from one Centre to another seeking help from passersby. Parents have developed behaviors of abandoning their children and deliberately sending them to the town so that they can benefit from their borrowing. So to say this has led to child labor in this region. High profile cases of school dropouts have been recorded regarding the environs of this region. Young school children from different locations in Eldoret converge in town to persuade people to offer them financial assistance. Some attend school in numbered days and decide to spend some good number of days out of school.
The communities and societies around tend to assume this situation and term it as norm. A few who might seem concerned lack cooperation from the rest. This has adversely affected the performance of most of schools, hence leading to poor living standards of the people and a poisoned future of a young citizen. The problem has affected learners in regions like many areas in Uasin-Gishu County. It has really affected child development and affected their attendance and performance in school. Little intervention measures has been taken to advocate the holistic development of the children. It was to this reason that the researcher conducted the research in the named above region
1.2 Research Questions
The study was guided by the following questions;
1) What is the effect of child abuse on the academic performance of students in Kapyemit Ward?  
2) What are some of the proposed strategies that schools can employ to curb child abuse?
1.3 Research Objectives
The study was guided by the following research objectives;
1) To identify the effect of child abuse on the academic performance of students in Kapyemit Ward.
2) To identify proposed strategies that can be employed to help curb child abuse.
1.4 Justification of the Study
It is becoming increasingly difficult to separate child abuse prevention into separate categories. For instance, strategies on the societal level include increasing the “value” of children, increasing the economic self-sufficiency of families, discouraging corporal punishment and other forms of violence, making health care more accessible and affordable, expanding and improving coordination of social services, improving the identification and treatment of psychological problems and alcohol and drug abuse, providing more affordable child care and preventing the birth of unwanted children.
Very little analysis has been done to estimate the total cost of preventing child abuse and neglect or the long-term social costs of not preventing it. There is now a move to situate child abuse and neglect within the continuum of intervention which addresses multiple aspects of family behaviors. The efficacy of tackling portions of the problem of child abuse apart from broader societal needs is not known. And, perhaps prevention can only come in tandem with efforts to reduce poverty, improve health care and make children’s issues a national priority. However, despite these constraints, evaluations of prevention programs can be improved by coming to terms with definitions of key varia
Bassam A Dec 2014
Please re-read as I will be making changes to this poem over and over

I want to tell you something
I am a man who loves changes

Changes of everything

You will see me suggest
A change in every retrospect

This morning I was re-reading
my own HP site and I was impressed

by my choices and how I ended up
With 3 different reposts of "My Fears"

from 3 different poets
that I reposted without me knowing

It's amazing how I am amazed
of my choices and have read them
like as if I am choosing them again

Now hear out my new suggestion
To HP and if you do like
Please make your voice be heard

It goes as follows:

If you like to relive the poetry
and you like to re-read your choices

and you like to reread the poems
you chose before once more

and get surprised while reading them
as if you did not choose them before

Then, we either need a second love button!  Or

we need to automate the love button
and every time we reread it knows

and the love gets even stronger
and somehow it grows

Another suggestion that hit me in the head while I was re-writing my poem

"The new suggestion is to give a comeback wink
to the previous folks who just read my poem
and ping them of my new important fix
To invite them to re-taste the cake that I just re-cooked

Or the cooking does not get posted
Until I feel its real good

and I press the release button
Before I let it go like I should

And may be we need to check our poem button with people that we trust

Before we embarrass ourselves badly
with a poem that may bust"

The problem with this is honesty
That we don't do it for just the fame

So for this I need your opinion to fix
my suggestion in playing the game

and make HP an even a better place
and enjoy it again and again!

Additional suggestions to HP:

please fix the current suggestions which is still lit even when I fixed my suggested misspellings. .. Call it repair
* a suggestion button to HP in the menu
* a share with others button that can grow .. You can click and see who I shared it with ... it can also be private
* a playback button ... Reads out loud
* a favorite button .. Quickly adds it to your favorites
* a read later button
* by double clicking a word you can ping the poet for a misspelling or a suggestion of a new word or love that word
* a unite with another poet button
* Go Interactive button .. Others can re-write your poetry!
* a challenge button .. Encourage challenge with another poet
* a marry me button .. which starts with an enragement ring ..
*friends .. siblings and brothers and family button ... they have to accept you as a family member!
Please don't forget to look below for other suggestions from other poets!
A presence
presenting
a continuous torment
torturing
incessantly
until, even with cessation
only a tenuous self
is present
leaving only the resin

The maniacal
manifestation
is an infestation
festering around in my head
Its existence,
a creation
created at inception,
hacking my brain
Forever a trap
creating a
maniac

Acrimonious
to all mankind
Not acting
like a man
Not one word
that's kind
Committing crimes
and getting oneself
committed
A deviation
creating a deviant
Shifted values
due to a devalued
self

An esoteric
essence
seemingly sentenced
on this journey
by judge and jury,
not by one's peers
because the many
not able
to peer
into this individuality
The duplicity
of duality
that is my reality

Challenging myself
to a dual
One in which
I both
win and lose
But in the end
not breaking even
or coming out ahead
Always ending
further back
instead

Its back breaking
and always aching
Pain from which
not capable of
faking
Effort I’m taking
Of myself making
Time for a new king
For kinsmanship
is aloof
And this man’s ship
has sailed away
Sipping a port
at a shipping port
And yet
slipping away

Deeper still
In the depth
of still water
Sinking
into the abyss
Lost and gone
But not missed
Is this the end
of our fable?
Or will our “hero”
enable himself
and in the end
be able
Deciding who to be?
Cain or Abel?
For the hurricane
is hurrying along
Its aim always the same
Constant pain
A payment he feels
for the displaced
placement
which just in case
is placed
same place
he went

Ink in the face
A disgrace
When suddenly
encased in his brain
are racing thoughts
of a plan
he’s ace’n

A label of insanity
given by those
who claim sanity
when the reality
is their thoughts are free
and optimize
a sanitized
and homogenized
batter
And in the end
it doesn’t matter

Offering suggestions
in which they
feel threatened
Pathways congested
and protested
Testing them
Even worse,
bested
A problem beset
upon them
Time to steady
the flock
Roll n’ Rock
Inoculations we’re getting
Start the injections

“It’s been an honor”
Mounting my Lipizzaner
A disarmer
A charmer
The armor
‘mi amor’
Leaving me
wanting more
But as they keep score
the task is daunting
A life that’s haunting
with such splendid decor
-
Yet, can’t take any more
Their taunting
is leaving me sore
So to the atmosphere
I open that door
and flying up above
I soar

Forever more
Feel pain no more...
Written: August 17, 2018

All rights reserved.
Another Bad Poem Mar 2018
she says
she's not a poet
but i find her poems
to have more meaning
more beauty, more heart
to them than mine
and the way
she uses her words
can change how a person is feeling
from sad to happy
just with a couple of phrases
knitted together

she says
she's not a good writer
but those early morning
last minute essays
of pure adrenaline and
half-awake thoughts
present ideas
in such a way
that it's impossible
to find them anything
but perfect

she says
she's not sure
what her future will bring
but i know her
she's smart
and she's
so wonderfully stubborn
that wherever she may end up
she will go farther
than anyone could have ever imagined
including me
i can't predict exactly where she'll be
in 4 months
or 4 years
but i know her path will go
down the most bountiful roads
and in the end
she'll be happy
and all will be worth it

she says
she's not grateful
but almost everything she does
she does for others
she loves her parents
and hurts when they hurt
she realizes what they do
for her, and wants to make them
the proudest parents on earth
she loves her friends
and tries to make them better

she says
she's a relationship whisperer
and i guess she's right
because with a few choice words
gentle nudges and an onslaught
of appreciated suggestions
she whispered us together

she says
that the dark spots on the sun
can bring shadow
to the most brilliant light
but not even
the dark of endless night
can dim her brightness
or hide her from those
who see her for who she is
who see her potential

she doubts herself
sometimes she thinks
she won't succeed,
always worried
that what she's done
isn't enough
or that there's too little time
to get everything done
but no matter the odds
no matter what she's up against
she pushes through
she persists, she fights
and she gets what she wants
or as close to what she wants
as is actually possible
sometimes she even achieves the impossible
and it's nothing if not admirable
showing me that anything is possible
proving to me that
"You could rattle the stars
You could do anything
If only you dared"
not by anything i've done
but by everything she's accomplished

she says
she's not beautiful
true, she's not a model
but that doesn't mean she's not perfect
but the way those eyes shine
like earth kissed by spring rain
promising life and happiness,
mirrored by her wide smile
though not often seen,
just one smile from her
is like a ray of sunshine
through grimy windows
bringing light into a place
that knew nothing but darkness,
warm enough to melt the walls
surrounding the coldest of hearts

somehow,
sometimes
she says she's ugly
possibly due to the scars
dotting her arms and her back
scars which started years ago
but on the contrary
i think they just enhance her
they make her more human
each one a reminder
that she's been through
countless things in her life
but instead of giving up
instead of giving in
she's come through,
a lump of carbon
forged by the fires
of her world
and the pressure of
her surroundings
the pressure of life
and came out
the most precious of diamonds
not the biggest
but the most wonderful of all
with small flecks of imperfections
that make it shine all the brighter

i say
she's often right,
but the subject
becomes herself
and she's far from the truth
she's absolutely wonderful
and in my eyes
perfect
a perfect person
and a perfect friend
the most beautiful woman on earth
mentally and physically
and there's nobody else
i'd rather love
quote from Sarah J. Maas
though the loving isn't easy, i still love
with all my heart
i hope this makes you smile when you're down
or helps you see yourself the way i see you
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
(thanx all for the great suggestions)

<!>
women who wink

drive men to drink

together, glasses clink

tattoos follow in ink

and that ain’t the only thing

~

the tiller tied & forgot,

the slip knot jinxed

the sailboat nearly sinks

~

he cries aloud “you minx!”

I’m all done in,

you’ve got me sminked,^

you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink

~

she smirked and laughed that slinky mink,

“clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx,

count to cinq, don’t overthink,

join me overboard into the ****,

I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink

where drowning possibilities are next to nothink

promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
^Smink/To smink/Sminking/Sminked...pretty much any context you want.

When you smoke (strictly ****) and drink (alcoholic beverage of you choice) at the same time. Together these two factors get you wicked f’d up and create a great sminked out atmosphere.
Stephanie Lynn  Sep 2015
MiXeD
Stephanie Lynn Sep 2015
i'm biracial
no i'm not an oreo
no i ain't your zebra
i ain't the best of both your worlds
i ain't mulatto either

i am white
and
i am black
living my life with a sense of inequality
my race always seems to follow me
no matter where i'm at

white people have jokes
black people have questions
my hair appeals to some of you
while the rest of you have suggestions

who said i needed you to tell me who to be?
who said i needed to explain who i really am underneath?

striving to be normal and thriving to be equal
i just so happen to be a white girl
that knows what it's like to be black
and that bothers a lot of people

my race may not define me but it is apart of who i am
so yes i get offended when you refuse to understand

that i am what i am
black and white
white and black
light brown complexion
***** curls front to back

a strong black woman resides inside and it's she you see
a white woman is there but will never be
but i never deny my lines culturally

because they are me
(C) Maxwell 2015
Nigel Morgan  Nov 2012
Hiraeth
Nigel Morgan Nov 2012
for Jennie in gratitude*

For days afterwards he was preoccupied by what he’d collected into himself from the gallery viewing. He could say it was just painting, but there was a variety of media present in the many surrounding images and artefacts. Certainly there were all kinds of objects: found and gathered, captured and brought into a frame, some filling transparent boxes on a window ledge or simply hung frameless on the wall; sand, fixed foam, paper sea-water stained, a beaten sheet of aluminium; a significant stone standing on a mantelpiece, strange warped pieces of metal with no clue to what they were or had been, a sketchbook with brooding pencilled drawings made fast and thick, filling the page, colour like an echo, and yes, paintings.
 
Three paintings had surprised him; they did not seem to fit until (and this was sometime later) their form and content, their working, had very gradually begun to make a sort of sense.  Possible interpretations – though tenuous – surreptitiously intervened. There were words scrawled across each canvas summoning the viewer into emotional space, a space where suggestions of marks and colour floated on a white surface. These scrawled words were like writing in seaside sand with a finger: the following bird and hiraeth. He couldn’t remember the third exactly. He had a feeling about it – a date or description. But he had forgotten. And this following bird? One of Coleridge’s birds of the Ancient Mariner perhaps? Hiraeth he knew was a difficult Welsh word similar to saudade. It meant variously longing, sometimes passionate (was longing ever not passionate?), a home-sickness, the physical pain of nostalgia. It was said that a well-loved location in conjunction with a point in time could cause such feelings. This small exhibition seemed full of longing, full of something beyond the place and the time and the variousness of colour and texture, of elements captured, collected and represented. And as the distance in time and memory from his experience of the show in a small provincial gallery increased, so did his own thoughts of and about the nature of longing become more acute.
 
He knew he was fortunate to have had the special experience of being alone with ‘the work’ just prior to the gallery opening. His partner was also showing and he had accompanied her as a friendly presence, someone to talk to when the throng of viewers might deplete. But he knew he was surplus to requirements as she’d also brought along a girlfriend making a short film on this emerging, soon to be successful artist. So he’d wandered into the adjoining spaces and without expectation had come upon this very different show: just the title Four Tides to guide him in and around the small white space in which the art work had been distributed. Even the striking miniature catalogue, solely photographs, no text, did little to betray the hand and eye that had brought together what was being shown. Beyond the artist’s name there were only faint traces – a phone number and an email address, no voluminous self-congratulatory CV, no list of previous exhibitions, awards or academic provenance. A light blue bicycle figured in some of her catalogue photographs and on her contact card. One photo in particular had caught the artist very distant, cycling along the curve of a beach. It was this photo that helped him to identify the location – because for twenty years he had passed across this meeting of land and water on a railway journey. This place she had chosen for the coming and going of four tides he had viewed from a train window. The aspect down the estuary guarded by mountains had been a highpoint of a six-hour journey he had once taken several times a year, occasionally and gratefully with his children for whom crossing the long, low wooden bridge across the estuary remained into their teens an adventure, always something telling.
 
He found himself wishing this work into a studio setting, the artist’s studio. It seemed too stark placed on white walls, above the stripped pine floor and the punctuation of reflective glass of two windows facing onto a wet street. Yes, a studio would be good because the pictures, the paintings, the assemblages might relate to what daily surrounded the artist and thus describe her. He had thought at first he was looking at the work of a young woman, perhaps mid-thirties at most. The self-curation was not wholly assured: it held a temporary nature. It was as if she hadn’t finished with the subject and or done with its experience. It was either on-going and promised more, or represented a stage she would put aside (but with love and affection) on her journey as an artist. She wouldn’t milk it for more than it was. And it was full of longing.
 
There was a heaviness, a weight, an inconclusiveness, an echo of reverence about what had been brought together ‘to show’. Had he thought about these aspects more closely, he would not have been so surprised to discovered the artist was closer to his own age, in her fifties. She in turn had been surprised by his attention, by his carefully written comment in her guest book. She seemed pleased to talk intimately and openly, to tell her story of the work. She didn’t need to do this because it was there in the room to be read. It was apparent; it was not oblique or difficult, but caught the viewer in a questioning loop. Was this estuary location somehow at the core of her longing-centred self?  She had admitted that, working in her home or studio, she would find herself facing westward and into the distance both in place and time?
 
On the following day he made time to write, to look through this artist’s window on a creative engagement with a place he was familiar. The experience of viewing her work had affected him. He was not sure yet whether it was the representation of the place or the artist’s engagement with it. In writing about it he might find out. It seemed so deeply personal. It was perhaps better not to know but to imagine. So he imagined her making the journey, possibly by train, finding a place to stay the night – a cheerful B & B - and cycling early in the morning across the long bridge to her previously chosen spot on the estuary: to catch the first of the tides. He already understood from his own experience how an artist can enter trance-like into an environment, absorb its particularness, respond to the uncertainty of its weather, feel surrounded by its elements and textures, and most of all be governed by the continuous and ever-complex play of light.
 
He knew all about longing for a place. For nearly twenty years a similar longing had grown and all but consumed him: his cottage on a mountain overlooking the sea. It had become a place where he had regularly faced up to his created and invented thoughts, his soon-to-be-music and more recently possible poetry and prose. He had done so in silence and solitude.
 
But now he was experiencing a different longing, a longing born from an intensity of love for a young woman, an intensity that circled him about. Her physical self had become a rich landscape to explore and celebrate in gaze, and stroke and caress. It seemed extraordinary that a single person could hold to herself such a habitat of wonder, a rich geography of desire to know and understand. For so many years his longing was bound to the memory of walking cliff paths and empty beaches, the hypnotic viewing of seascaped horizons and the persistent chaos of the sea and wild weather. But gradually this longing for a coming together of land, sea and sky had migrated to settle on a woman who graced his daily, hourly thoughts; who was able to touch and caress him as rain and wind and sun can act upon the body in ever-changing ways. So when he was apart from her it was with such a longing that he found himself weighed down, filled brimfull.
 
In writing, in attempting to consider longing as a something the creative spirit might address, he felt profoundly grateful to the artist on the light blue bicycle whose her observations and invention had kept open a door he felt was closing on him. She had faced her own longing by bringing it into form, and through form into colour and texture, and then into a very particular play: an arrangement of objects and images for the mind to engage with – or not. He dared to feel an affinity with this artist because, like his own work, it did not seem wholly confident. It contained flaws of a most subtle kind, flaws that lent it a conviction and strength that he warmed to. It had not been massaged into correctness. The images and the textures, the directness of it, flowed through him back and forward just like the tides she had come far to observe on just a single day. He remembered then, when looking closely at the unprotected pieces on the walls, how his hand had moved to just touch its surfaces in exactly the way he would bring his fingers close to the body of the woman he loved so much, adored beyond any poetry, and longed for with all his heart and mind.
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Nat Lipstadt Jan 2018
based on the essay in the notes below
which was forwarded to me by Liz Balise
<>
all poems and their accompaniment sauces commence with onions,
that start by fouling the air, bringing forth only unrestricted tearings,
but then...

the slow cooking elicits the sugars hid within,
the unpleasant odor, refined into something
minted new sweet and savory.

so too, the poem must simmer, slow cooked,
harmonizing the caramelizing,
even if some ingredients
claim the first born birthright of the eldest first essential,
despite the collective harmonizing.

the ripened color of the blood red tomatoes,
the ruddy cheery sanguinity of
certain words in each poem,
are the coloration of its entirety -
the ones your never forgive for never letting you forget them!

what matters not but how, the daring to substitute the new how,
how you chef see it and color it with the crazy way how
you beckon us over one by one to the big *** for a tasting
accepting critiques and suggestions, a thousand pinches
of your salty sweet essences.

and the recipe is dog stained and pointy corner ear-edged,
cause you cannot exactly write it down, and you bend the corner
for every substitution and variation,
cause every poem
made to taste the how of us,
each one a subtle different.

everyone understands metaphor,
even the society of the reticent ones in the back row,
just say the “trapdoor of depression” and they’ll nod knowingly,
so say to them a poem is a metaphor for you,
and spaghetti sauce is how you see, recreate in words,
how you need to add an ingredient of yourself
to this one,
a word, a phrase, becomes you,
becoming you in it,
in you,
you in it are both poet and poem,

a simmering new and different

————————————————————————-


A Well Written Essay— The Spaghetti Sauce Method

As a teacher and a learner, I have always wanted to see the "nuts and bolts" of everything. Yes, it slows the process down, but the learning is more complete, and a person becomes capable of making endless connections of understanding, branching to other  creative possibilities. Writing like dancing, and all that is worth learning, deserves all of the pieces and steps of the process.
I remember telling my students every year that grammar could indeed be a dry bone, but necessary in the process of good communication. Told them that I would teach writing by the "spaghetti sauce method" (Visualize their perplexed faces here.). "A well-written essay should be like a really good sauce-- smooth, fine textured, with a complete harmony of meat, sweet, tomato, and seasonings-- not one overpowering the others, but all in marvelous union of great flavor and aroma."
I continued, giving the example of my mother's
(God rest 'er) Irish spaghetti sauce" as a contrast. "Mama would throw in onions, peppers (if she had ‘em), hamburger, salt and pepper, fry it all in corn oil, and mix with two cans of plain tomato sauce. This was all okay with me," I went on,“ till I experienced the epiphany of garlic, basil, oregano, pork neck bones and a cup of wine; in the kitchen of an Italian neighbor, who walked me through the process and ingredients of real Italian sauce that was simmered for hours."
I continued to nudge them with the comparison: "Excellent writing is more than talent and passion, otherwise a tirade of curses, knotted ideas, and copied paragraphs of someone else would always do.” "No," I went on, "It is clear thought, captured, slow-cooked in the labor of mind and understanding— and in good time, expressed, in a way that others can comprehend -- with great attention to the cardinal rule: It is not as much WHAT you say-- but HOW you say it."
Through the year I focused on one or two aspects of better writing at a time for each paper. It was an uphill battle, often teaching against the mediocrity of the expectations in the PA State Standards of Assessment. It would add ten hours to my work week to grade and comment on a set of a 115 papers.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2017
all I've learned from love


<•>

for the fedora man, 10/29/17 10:34am

<•>

another song done me wrong on a Sunday morn,
so much due to do, a list not for compilation/publication,
including poems promised and weighty deadlines overdue,
for its tedium would still be lbs. heavy in weightless space

instead a lyric plucks my attention, of course beeping,
insistent chirping a chorus of, write me right now,
immédiatement dans son français de Montréal,
this is the item that needs to be list topping,
now whispering a messenger-angel name dropping
a request formal from the fedora man dressed in black

all I've learned from love,  
a listing doomed to comprehensible incompletion,
a listing to the right as new reasons in-come
constantly from the left, each heart beat a
remarkable reminder that the list grows longer

every day, the repeating seasons, proffer suggestions,
disguised as a newly revised ten commandments,
obedience to which is a wish list for
attaining grace

all I've learned from love is its duality, essential quality,
a human single cannot attain the commingling required
for the visioning a peak season of life colorful,
its sad corollary, leaves falling exposing the body bare-****** of the soul linear alone

all I've learned from love is its shining skin is an agreed upon
indefinable nature, other than we all recognize how our
definition personal exists in that Ven diagrams space where
our circles intersect, when A breaks the skin of B, creating
{A,B}

all I've learned from love is without it no matter what
somewhere inside is a desperation pocket that is
an inquisitive irritant, a brain burr, a pea under the mattress,
a high and mighty 1% of disarmament incompetence that rules the imbalanced balance of my bottom line on the top of my head

all I've learned from love that it appears on its own timetable,
in surprising trains and planes and baseball games, sitting
alone in a theater or in front of a Rubens, on crazy disastrous
first dates in foreign countries at cafes or non gender
specific bathrooms amidst alternating currents of
this is crazy and this is infinite and ever so sobering
wondrous possible


all I've learned from love is it never shoots straight,
but will always end in a holy bullseye


*Tout ce que j'ai appris de l'amour, c'est qu'elle ne tire jamais directement,
mais se terminera toujours dans une sainte bullseye
Stíofáinín Jan 2020
Once there was a water dragon. He was brilliant and blue and he knew the depths of the sea like no other. Once upon a time a spider laid it's tiny eyes on him. This spider saw how wondrous and free the water dragon was and decided to silently follow him only so as to be close. The dragon, once observant noticed this but decided what's the harm. He let the spider look on as he continued to be himself. One day the spider realised it had something inside of itself that wanted to be free too and it bit the beautiful water dragon. The bite was venmous and the dragon could feel it corse through him and before he could even muster a thought against it, he wanted it. He wanted it and everyday the tiny spider would come to bite him again. The dragon knew this was wrong but he thought, that tiny spider all alone and everyday it comes back to bite me, that must be love. That tiny venom I feel in my heart must be love. And so he kept it.
The spider came from the ground but there was never a way back so it just stayed close to the dark. The cold places where there was little light and slowly those places became the dragons home too. He didn't swim in the light anymore. He didn't swin at all. His beautiful blue faded to grey and he forgot the sun. The spider continued to bite him every day until that last time when it borrowed itself right underneath his skin and then, the spider was swallowed whole.
The spider was called
Lie.
The water dragon thought, at last it is dead now I can be free again. I can go back to the water now. And he did try, he tried to escape the cave but when he started to see the light again he had to turn away. His head was hung. The spider lived inside of him now and even if it was forever only in that tiny place, he knew he would not escape and inside he felt it and in the bottom of his soul he knew the spiders name.
Lie.
He was trapped but at least now he could see the outside or watch as it went by. He could even feel the water again and float, floating was better than nothing at all, and he accepted his fate. He was content and he could be happy with being content and he wasn't even all that grey anymore. Mostly grey but still so magnificently beautiful. So he would watch the world but no one could ever see him because all they could know was a sad angry thing that is only called a shame because the dragon that once was is no more.

Once there was a beautiful water dragon...
Now no one remembers, no one searches because of what they might find...
Lie.
It's better forgotten.
The dragon became a thing that was lost to even a single thought but if there ever was one it went like this.
Beware of that hidden thing, he was once something you may have spoke of. That's all.

But the same water dragon was still there somewhere and he himself knew this much and in everything that was enough.
That's what he wanted to believe.
It wasn't real though.
One day a curious girl found his dwelling, he was sure she'd be too afraid but admittedly nervous as she was she did not look away. Her wide eyes only grew. She touched his face and whispered "beautifil" he unclenched and began to free himself from a rigid position he'd been wrestling with for what seemed like lifetimes. The girl lost her footing quick realising too late that she stood on the dragons tail. She fell back off the cliff from the cave right into the sea.
The dragon thought, if I do this now if I save her then I can remember myself. I will never be grey again but I'll remember that it was not me. If I go out into that sea now I might not ever be able to find a way back here and even though I know this is not home.
this is my only home.
But the girl was drowning.

The dragon saved the girl and he brought her back to his home and there she woke and said "I love you dragon, you have saved me but you are most beautiful in the light. You do know that don't you?" And she gazed at him in wonder but he just hung his head because he could not forget what he believed the girl should never know.
Lie...
He remembered that spider who was long dead now but part of it would forever remain inside of him.
The girl slid down and caught his head in her hands, smiled and pushed him back into place.

"I found you dragon, I FOUND YOU!!! That means you are mine and I say you cannot live here like this anymore. I will take you with me and we will find someplace beautiful for you to swim again so you can be what you are, so you can feel the sun. I want that for you, dragon. You know why"

"don't say no ok! let's just go far away from this cave now because I love you and I won't ever leave you here but I am a girl, dragon. And I need to see the sun and I want that and that is a freedom that you could never know confined to this cave"
The dragon came so close he was almost inside of the girls wide eyes. His huge, deep, warm breaths on her face made her skin come alive like she was in command of countless living creatures, breathing in her veins. Powerful. That is what he made her.
The dragon said, I saved you didn't I! You know why but please don't ask these silly things. I will not leave here now because it is my home somehow but you can come here anytime you like and see me. Looking at you makes me happy and you know, you know I'll love you but just don't try to move me now because because I am so much bigger than you tiny girl and know this, I have already tried. Nope! I am not going anywhere so don't even ask.
The girl smushed her face into some kind of unnatural expression and huffed.
"I'll show you dragon"
She kicked his tail and ran right up to his ear and whispered.
"I am not afraid of you. I saw that spider once and I know you feel it too and dead as it may be that spider will always borrow down deeper and deeper unless you just let it be free. The dead have left marks all over you. something a girl could never imagine, dragon. I see that and I do not have to know but you should know this, I am not afraid!
And I'll be back tomorrow, and tomorrow and all of eternity because I will never leave you alone here dragon.
And tomorrow, I will make you smile.

Tomorrow the girl came back. She scaled the slippery wall with a world of belongings on her back and when she reached the top where the dragon called home she flung what could have been all of her tiny life's worth out on to the hard rock. She yelled
"I am here, dragon"
And the dragon appeared. He slowly wrapped her in his cold skin and he said nothing. The girls face looked disappointed so he tightened his grip but she sighed and wriggled free and looked at him in the eye.
The girl laughed.
The dragon was in awe of how anyone could escape his grip and he did indeed seem defeated almost but the girl just smiled at him and said "silly dragon, you know that I am too small, you could never hold me"

"But dragon, this is the predicament now you see, I have told you that I am a girl who needs so many things and the sun and the sun but you are my only sun and that is the only warmth that I want to know now and I don't know how to tell you I was wrong. I only need you and I've taken all these things here with me so to make you admit what you yourself already know. You have said it and not said it in too many ways so now you just need to let it be. You dragon, you love me. You have saved me and now I will save you too"
The dragon still said nothing so the girl continued.
She stood the ground, taller than she was and proclaimed.
"THREE THINGS I WILL PUT IN FRONT OF YOU
Not to sway you but to show you how to look and see what is real. This is all I have dragon, so it will work because you will not tell yourself that it cannot.
Just see"

"First,
I took these three strings, sangen. And sometimes I can melt colours so you may not feel grey anymore and I will write and sing for you a million songs if you promise to always open your eyes for me.
Secondly,
All of my words which have now fallen right here in front of you. You really should open your eyes and see, it's like an endless haiku.
And third,
What else do I have of value save for myself and who knows how much value is in that. But third, it is spilled out clear. Honesty dragon. All of my honesty and I am not a perfect girl, not at all but I will accept whatever you show me because I only want to see you and I am not afraid"

"look"
she asked the dragon and she showed him her heart and all the times her tiny frame had cracked trying to get it out.
"I was not always this either but it is enough dragon, even if we are the only ones who ever know. You are still alive in here.
We are.

The dragon spoke and he said, ok girl I am listening. I am looking so show me. Then the girl whispered
"I know the spider all too well"

"it camouflages itself as something innocent but it was never that. I have been bitten by a spider too and I know what it never wants you to see"

"it can never rest even when you know its dead and the further down it digs the more eggs it lays inside of you, dragon and the only way it stops is if you set it free and I know that feels impossible but all you need to do is show me. Then it is gone and you will be free. I can see its marks on you, it's all over you poor dragon, but it is dead now so please let it go"

"I am only because I had looked at that spider everyday until I wasn't afraid, so I picked it out from inside of myself and threw it away. I cannot do this for you, dragon but I can stay here and make you smile while you find a way to let it go. But, just show me and I promise you it will go and don't worry I know I am small but I am not weak and I am not afraid of you and I will still stay"
The dragon spoke again but only to say,
stay here just don't say anymore.
Sleep now.
But the girl refused to tire and finally the dragon grew strong enough to show her.
Look now, you see it can never come away and I will never let it go now because I am afraid.

The girl saw the spider and it was in the dragons beating heart. She kissed his heart and told the dragon.
"it's ok, dragon. Thank you for showing me this"

For several days and nights they slept until a day the girl awoke. She was alone in the dragons empty cell and she walked to the opening where a light broke through and stumbled over a dried out tiny corpse of something that was once called
Lie...
And she looked far out through the cracks onto the waves and there he was like she had never seen him before and yet somehow it was entirely fitting to her image of what she knew the dragon could be. He was blue again and so fast and when he moved she could feel it through the bones. 

The dragon came back to the girl but still he said nothing. His breath was so close to her again that all the tiny creatures she never let die ran back through her veins and she knew. She was alive.
The girl climbed on the dragons back and he said said
Now, we can go home.
May be just a silly thing but I'm still wanting to put this here

— The End —