There are positive ways of curving incidence of vandalism. You don’t need to incarcerate vandals, let them work for it. This is exactly what the more than twenty young men got when they broke into the former home of Robert Frost and converted it into a beer house. They were not only made to pay for the damages but also asked to conduct community service. But the most interesting part of their education (punishment) is to take classes on his “poetry.” This will show the young vandals the “errors of their ways-and the redemptive power of poetry.” Do you call this a poetic justice?
Naku kapatid, kung bored na bored ka na sa history at dagdagan mo pa ng American poetry ang iyong kalbaryo, daig mo pa ang napako sa krus ng pagkabagot. Ito ang naging bunga ng kagaguhan ng mga kabataang pasaway, mahilig maglasing, at durogista.
Kaya ikaw Noy, magpakatino ka nang di ka mapahamak sa iyong buhay. Ngayong pasukan pagbutihin mo lang ang pag-aaral. Huwag puro barkada ang aatupagin baka mapahamak ka pa diyan. Mabuti pa ay mag-aral ka na lang ng pagtula o kaya pagsulat ng tula nang malayo ka sa masasamang bisyo. Malayo ang mararating ng isang kabataang matino ang buhay at sumusunod sa payo ng mga magulang. Eto, basahin mo:
By JOHN CURRAN, Associated Press Writer
MIDDLEBURY, Vt. – Call it poetic justice: More than two dozen young people who broke into Robert Frost‘s former home for a beer party and trashed the place are being required to take classes in his poetry as part of their punishment.
Using “The Road Not Taken” and another poem as jumping-off points, Frost biographer Jay Parini hopes to show the vandals the error of their ways — and the redemptive power of poetry.
“I guess I was thinking that if these teens had a better understanding of who Robert Frost was and his contribution to our society, that they would be more respectful of other people’s property in the future and would also learn something from the experience,” said prosecutor John Quinn.
The vandalism occurred at the Homer Noble Farm in Ripton, where Frost spent more than 20 summers before his death in 1963. Now owned by Middlebury College, the unheated farmhouse on a dead-end road is used occasionally by the college and is open in the warmer months.
On Dec. 28, a 17-year-old former Middlebury College employee decided to hold a party and gave a friend $100 to buy beer. Word spread. Up to 50 people descended on the farm, the revelry turning destructive after a chair broke and someone threw it into the fireplace.
When it was over, windows, antique furniture and china had been broken, fire extinguishers discharged, and carpeting soiled with vomit and urine. Empty beer cans and drug paraphernalia were left behind. The damage was put at $10,600.
Twenty-eight people — all but two of them teenagers — were charged, mostly with trespassing.
About 25 ultimately entered pleas — or were accepted into a program that allows them to wipe their records clean — provided they underwent the Frost instruction. Some will also have to pay for some of the damage, and most were ordered to perform community service in addition to the classroom sessions. The man who bought the beer is the only one who went to jail; he got three days behind bars.
Parini, 60, a Middlebury College professor who has stayed at the house before, was eager to oblige when Quinn asked him to teach the classes. He donated his time for the two sessions.
On Wednesday, 11 turned out for the first, with Parini giving line-by-line interpretations of “The Road Not Taken” and “Out, Out-,” seizing on parts with particular relevance to draw parallels to their case.
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” he thundered, reciting the opening line of the first poem, which he called symbolic of the need to make choices in life.
“This is where Frost is relevant. This is the irony of this whole thing. You come to a path in the woods where you can say, `Shall I go to this party and get drunk out of my mind?'” he said. “Everything in life is choices.”
Even the setting had parallels, he said: “Believe me, if you’re a teenager, you’re always in the damned woods. Literally, you’re in the woods — probably too much you’re in the woods. And metaphorically you’re in the woods, in your life. Look at you here, in court diversion! If that isn’t `in the woods,’ what the hell is `in the woods’? You’re in the woods!”
Dressed casually, one with his skateboard propped up against his desk, the young people listened to Parini and answered questions when he pressed. Then a court official asked them to describe how their arrests and the publicity affected them.
“I was worried about my family,” said one boy, whose name was withheld because the so-called diversion program in which took part is confidential. “I’ll be carrying on the family name and all that. And with this kind of thing tied to me, it doesn’t look very good.”
Another said: “After this, I’m thinking about staying out of trouble, because this is my last chance.”
“My parents’ business in town was affected,” said a girl.
When the session ended, the vandals were offered snacks — apple cider, muffins, sliced fruit — but none partook. They went straight for the door, several declining comment as they walked out of the building. The next session is Tuesday.
“It’s a lesson learned, that’s for sure,” said one of them, 22-year-old Ryan Kenyon, whose grandmother worked as hairdresser in the 1960s and knew Frost. “It did bring some insight. People do many things that they don’t realize the consequences of. It shined a light, at least to me.