When I teach metaphor in my literature classes, I encourage my students to push beyond decoding simply for meaning, toward interpretation in a connotative, cultural sense. In other words, I not only want them to be able to say what the metaphor means, but also to show why that particular metaphor was chosen in the first place. For instance, take Gascoigne’s poem “For That He Looked Not upon Her,” in which he uses animal metaphors to reflect on his past relationship with a woman who turned out to be nothing but trouble:
The mouse which once hath broken out of trap
Is seldom ’ticèd with the trustless bait,
But lies aloof for fear of more mishap,
And feedeth still in doubt of deep deceit.
And so we start with meaning. The speaker uses the analogy of the once-caught mouse avoiding the trap to mean that he, once caught in this woman’s manipulation, will not be ensnared again. But there’s more. “Why is it a mouse in a trap?” I ask my students, “Why not a bear, or a robber, or a beaver?” So much more then comes to light. By putting himself in the role of the mouse, the speaker shows his comparative weakness and low status in juxtaposition with the former lover. She’s made him feel like a tiny, brainless, scurrying animal. She has “fed” him deceit–betrayed him so completely that he literally feels that he’s ingested the shame that her affections lured him into. She, cast as the trap, is cold, metallic, and brutal; a mere snap of deadly machinery to his soft, innocent (and now wary) mouse.
Metaphors carry the weight of old instincts with them. That’s what makes them one of the most powerful literary devices, along with allusion, of them all. Metaphors are worth considering for a moment. It’s this belief which led me, today, to think more deeply about my favorite metaphor to use when encouraging fellow teachers, and sometimes even myself: Keep fighting the good fight.
“Why this metaphor?” I asked myself. It’s downright combative, suggestive of violent struggle. Where does it even come from? Do I even know what I’m saying?! (You can see how quickly being a literary thinker can lead one to crisis.) So, I decided to do some research.
I found that the origin of this particular idiom is actually a Biblical quote from Timothy 6.12–“Fight the Good Fight of Faith.” It was a popular phrase in several English hymns of the 1800’s. Over time, the phrase has adopted a more general meaning, which The Oxford English Dictionary (aka the unquestionable word nerd guidebook) describes as, “To campaign or struggle valiantly for a just cause; to defend what one believes to be right.” After reading it phrased as such, the instinct that makes this phrase pop off of my tongue so often is clearer to me.
Especially at this time of the year, teaching can feel like a good fight. The attention of students who have been engaged all semester long can start to wane with warmer weather. Seniors begin checking or stressing out as the life beyond high school looms. Students who have been difficult since day one can become downright maddening in their habitual apathy or resistance. It can be tempting, as a teacher, to feel helpless and resigned. This is where the fight comes in. It’s the time to appeal to the noble warrior spirit that lurks within every teacher who cares too much to quit fighting for kids.
Late April and May are the time to dig deep. Something that feels almost blasphemous to say–but which is absolutely true–is that caring, really caring, about over a hundred kids each day on a personal level is exhausting. Sometimes they don’t listen. Sometimes they don’t perform. Sometimes they don’t understand your explanation the first, second, or third time. Sometimes they don’t follow through. Sometimes they’re rude. But good teachers don’t lie down. Good teachers fight the good fight. We fight to care harder. We fight to crank out lessons so exciting that the students can’t help but look up. We fight to keep challenging our learners of all levels, refusing to let them give up. Because we sure as heck ain’t giving up. It is a good fight. It’s the best cause I can think of. But we can only win if we’re willing to go into battle.
If teachers are warriors, we also have our spoils of victory. Some of mine recently have included…
*A previously combative student who completed almost none of my assignments during Quarter 3 is now interacting positively with me and is working AHEAD on a major project.
*I found a reminder letter from a student organization left behind in my room with spontaneous poetry scribbled on it–extra non-assigned practice in a style that we taught to our juniors over a month ago.
*My AP students are discussing ideas of race and privilege in Native Son with such astute intellect that it puts many groups of upper level college students I’ve seen to shame.
*My Comm III students are asking cool, conceptual, thought-provoking questions in their synthesis essays… and actually care about pursuing those questions on a philosophical level.
*Seeing the names of a few kids on next year’s AP roster–students who I encouraged to take the course even though it will present them a significant academic challenge.
*Every smile. Every “good morning.” Every “have a good weekend.” Every kid, honestly.
If you feel like the end of every school day has you emerging from battle these days, well, you’re not alone. Just remember, we’re all fighting together toward the same end. I’ll leave you with a snippet of lyrics from the fantastic, super-literate modern folk band The Decemberists.
This is why
why we fight
why we lie awake
this is why
this is why we fight.