Poetry Assignments in Medical School

Poetry is too easy. I know this because five minutes ago I turned on my brain* and I wrote a poem. It was quick. It was too easy. People always seem to think "poetry" is a mysterious art form. It's not. It just allows less analysis than other forms of expression (read: actual writing). Less analysis is bad, because it inhibits us from seeing how poor poetry is.

Why am I all of a sudden angry about poetry? Because apparently there is poetry in medical school. And it is atrocious.

*Let me explain. I spent my entire day (more than that because I walked out thirteen hours later) in the anatomy lab, looking at dead bodies and absorbing formaldehyde. We are a visual species, humans, so now, when I close my eyes, I see dry fascia being peeled away from faint pink, striated skeletal muscle. If I fixate long enough, I hear the sound of my hemostat and probe, hacking away at accessory connective tissue, like vultures ripping into a Saharan carcass. It is haunting, and yet, because of the time spent and formaldehyde, strangely calming. My brain, right now, is all about anatomy. When I am not thinking about anatomy, I am hating myself for not thinking about anatomy. I will periodically glance down at my hands and re-affirm that the giant line that extends from your thumb into your forearm when you arch your hand into a thumbs up, is really just your english premier league--mnemonic--your extensor pollicis longus. Below that, or slightly more medial and anterior to that, is your ... wait, wait... what the hell is that again? Your... your... the other component of your snuff box... is it an extensor pollicis or a abductor pollicis? It is the extensor pollicis brevis--thanks Wikipedia--and the abductor pollicis is on the border of your palmar surface.

But back to poetry. So we the first year medical students are enrolled in communities. I think this is a wonderful opportunity. We are afforded a real, practicing doctor contact. We get to see patients. We get to talk about some big issues. I am actually really glad that the communities exist, despite the fact that they, unfortunately, use up time I do not want to give up. Anyway, it's coordinated by a new dean who either attended Northwestern University or Northwestern Medical School, but either way, manages to exude a liberal arts vibe. So are assignments for this course, is to write.

And sometimes people write poetry.
Sometimes people write crappy poetry.
Other times we have to read poetry.
Not as crappy, but not critically acclaimed stuff.

So let me explain how I think poetry should be written. At its best, poetry is really just like normal writing, except it's shorter and thus easier to sustain.

1. Avoid cliches
This is what you have to do whenever you write. Unfortunately, most people who didn't align themselves with more than a few english courses won't know this. I swear to god (cliche) that if I have to pour through (cliche) one more poem that incorporates a line as melodramatic as "the bright light of day" I will shoot myself in the foot (cliche).

2. Don't be melodramatic
Medical school is heavy stuff. You don't realize the emotional baggage (cliche) you're holding onto while you're going through it, because you have so many more cerebral things to worry about. But if you just stand in the anatomy lab long enough, surrounded by sixty or more unwilling dead people, it will occur to you just how serious medical school can be. You are never allowed to get to that point, however. So I don't recommend you go delving into the deep, emotional end (adapted cliche) and pour out your feelings. You must be desensitizing yourself to absolute dread, otherwise, you'd never get past your first term. Don't pretend you're not.

3. Use pretty words
This step is an important confluence of both a big vocabulary and rhyming schemes. Modern day poetry doesn't require sonnet-esque rhymes. But it is important to make sure you have a rhythm in your prose. Sadly, even writers must do this, so I don't know why poetry gets all the praise for "sounding cool." Using big words is helpful, but only if it helps the flow and only if its a word that your audience will understand. Iliopsoas is a beautiful sounding muscle, but it's not that attractive in the human body. Thus, Iliopsoas is a poetical term, but it is not a pretty picture.

4. Say something new
I had this drilled into my head (cliche) by an English teacher in seventh or eighth grade: New or novel. Otherwise, no, don't say it. I guess that's my biggest problem with poetry. How do you make something new or novel in twenty lines that hasn't been done before? Hell, most poems probably could be found paraphrased in Facebook status updates. I'm not impressed, but my theory still remains: get a crazy angle on your story, and you and your listeners will benefit. Yes, anatomy lab is creepy, yes, you feel guilty for saying that anatomy lab is creepy. Now, take it to the next level. Or else, all other medical students will be bored with your thoughts. And when people are bored with your thoughts... well, not good.

5. Consider your audience
Your potential audience is different once you enter medical school. Your knowledge and your fears, they change tremendously**. If I am writing to an average American, I have to take several steps back in order to be able to communicate effectively. If I am talking to a physician, I need to fact check my affirmatives, make sure I haven't said anything that would be embarrassing if proved false.

6. **Don't use adverbs
Adverbs like, totally, ruin a good story. Absolutely avoid adverbs whenever possible. They are not verbs and they are not nouns. They ruin good story lines by instituting a framework in which subjects and verbs are separated unnecessarily, or without necessity. Which of the previous clauses do your ears enjoy more (tip 3).

So that is it, but I will throw in one last hint. The reason why I hate poetry is because people naturally think that things they don't understand are profound, like the profundus flexor digitorum... apologies. But this isn't always the case. You can say several pleasant sounding words together, and they'd make no sense. This theory can be proven by talking with someone afflicted with Wernicke's aphasia or by listening to Jack Johnson. In order to be a good poet, you have to be aloof and yet somehow understandable. Think about it. Finally (adverb), the best writing always comes from pleasantly (cliche) thorough thinking and re-editing. Or should I say: superb, ecstasy-filled writing arises from cerebral endeavors made spectacular by the mundane process of editing.