Keeping in my continuing theme of interspersing a little humanities with my sciences -- I never was a kid who needed their food separated -- here is your poem of the week, Langston Hughes' Theme for English B.

A little note on why: you can't live in New York and not feel entangled with others -- sometimes willfully and sometimes against one's will. It is one of the things I love about living here. It makes me proud to be American that so many crossing lives can coexist without too much friction. So many neighborhoods with cultures of their own, so many people who want to pursue their liberties unmolested and can do so -- in some cases can only do so -- here. Even when there is friction between us I love it because that is how we know we are all human, that is how we learn.

I went today to a barber shop run by three Russian men. They have a cockatoo and watch movies all day -- haircuts being a largely secondary concern. We meet and marvel at our different lives and then depart -- still different but hopefully a little enriched in that difference -- me a little Russian, and them a little geek.

Anyway, everytime I have a moment like that I think of this poem.

Theme for English B
By Langston Hughes

The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you---
Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:

It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me---we two---you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York too.) Me---who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records---Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me NOT like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white---
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me---
although you're older---and white---
and somewhat more free.

This is my page for English B.