Transverse

When it is time to be born, one out of 2,500 babies will be in a transverse position, which means lying sideways inside the womb so that it is impossible to be delivered vaginally. Either the mother has to undergo a Caesarean section or the child must be physically moved into a head-first position.

On December 8, 1971, yours truly was chillin’ in my transverse position, two weeks past my due date and apparently not in any rush to leave the comfort of the womb. But my mom’s obstetrician had different ideas, so by using a variety of tools, he manipulated the position of my body so that I could enter the world in a normal fashion. I guess I was resistant to the idea of normalcy from the get-go (1 out of 2,500 is relatively rare) and I still retain a mark as evidence of the unusual circumstances of my birth.

In order to yank my head into conformity, the doctor used forceps that permanently disfigured my left ear so that the tip has remained pointy rather than round. My mom always refers to it as my “Spock” ear, after the character on the then-popular science fiction TV show Star Trek. Spock is a member of an alien race called Vulcans, who are known for their supreme intellects and logical, unemotional personalities. Now, remember, this affected only one of my ears so the fact of the matter is that I don’t believe I have a necessarily supreme intellect but perhaps I’m smarter than average? Likewise, I certainly am not an outwardly highly emotional person but although I rely on my intellect as much as possible, the truth is that what I choose to do with my intellect is actually strongly guided by emotion. In other words, I want my students to learn the subject matter of English but I didn’t become a teacher because my intellect demanded my purpose in life was simply transferring information to the next generation (Get it? Star Trek? Next generation?)

From a young age, it seems the point on my left ear has served as an antenna attuned to the sounds of life so that I focus on them more intently than I think most people do. For instance, I recall being aware of this recently while being given directions to the Worcester Airport. Even as Mr. Baglio was drawing a rudimentary map and pointing the way to go with his pencil, I found that I was staring blankly ahead at the wall and focusing on the rhythms of his speech and the colorful auditory directions (e.g. “you bang a right here”) and memorizing the route that way.

In addition, I’ve always had an intense affinity for music of all kinds, including the music of everyday life. I love everything from writing songs and playing with the sounds of language in both poetry and prose to simply appreciating the accents of peoples’ voices. I even find myself at the moment enjoying the rhythmic noise of the keyboards being struck by the students here in the computer lab as they instant message each other, the non-stop mouse clicking as they play video games, and the occasional whirr of the printer when someone completes a piece of writing. Click, click, tap, tap, tap, whirr.