{"id":3468,"date":"2020-11-19T06:01:01","date_gmt":"2020-11-19T06:01:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/?page_id=3468"},"modified":"2020-11-19T06:01:02","modified_gmt":"2020-11-19T06:01:02","slug":"shane-koyczan-to-this-day","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/?page_id=3468","title":{"rendered":"SHANE KOYCZAN, TO THIS DAY"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\nhttps:\/\/youtu.be\/ltun92DfnPY\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

What has the author said about “To This Day”?<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

In the description of the video, Shane shares that the poem\u2019s purpose is to inspire others to stand up:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My experiences with violence in schools still echo throughout my life but standing to face the problem has helped me in immeasurable ways. Schools and families are in desperate need of proper tools to confront this problem. This piece is a starting point.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He read the poem at a TED conference<\/a>, sharing its backstory and his reason for writing \u2013 as a form of self-defense:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI said, \u2018I\u2019d like to be a writer.\u2019 And they said, \u2018Choose something realistic.\u2019 [\u2026] We were being told that we somehow must become what we are not, sacrificing what we are to inherit the masquerade of what we will be [\u2026] I thought to myself, \u2018What now? Where do I turn?\u2019 Poetry. [\u2026] This is who I am. This is how I stand up for myself.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
Were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops<\/a>
And because my grandmother thought it was cute
And because they were my favourite<\/a>
She let me keep doing it<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not really a big deal<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

One day
Before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
And bruised the right side of my body<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t want to tell my grandmother about it
Because I was afraid I\u2019d get in trouble
For playing somewhere that I shouldn\u2019t have been<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
And I got sent to the principal\u2019s office<\/a>
From there I was sent to another small room
With a really nice lady
Who asked me all kinds of questions
About my life at home<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saw no reason to lie
As far as I was concerned
Life was pretty good<\/a>
I told her, \u201cWhenever I\u2019m sad
My grandmother gives me karate chops\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This led to a full scale investigation
And I was removed from the house for three days<\/a>
Until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

News of this silly little story quickly spread through the school<\/a>
And I earned my first nickname<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pork Chop<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

To this day
I hate pork chops<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m not the only kid
Who grew up this way
Surrounded by people who used to say
That rhyme about sticks and stones<\/a>
As if broken bones
Hurt more than the names we got called
And we got called them all<\/a>
So we grew up believing no one
Would ever fall in love with us
That we\u2019d be lonely forever
That we\u2019d never meet someone
To make us feel like the sun<\/a>
Was something they built for us
In their tool shed<\/a>
So broken heart strings bled the blues<\/a>
As we tried to empty ourselves
So we would feel nothing<\/a>
Don\u2019t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone<\/a>
That an ingrown life
Is something surgeons can cut away
That there\u2019s no way for it to metastasize<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It does<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was eight years old
Our first day of grade three
When she got called ugly<\/a>
We both got moved to the back of the class
So we would stop get bombarded by spit balls<\/a>
But the school halls were a battleground<\/a>
Where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day<\/a>
We used to stay inside for recess
Because outside was worse<\/a>
Outside we\u2019d have to rehearse running away<\/a>
Or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there<\/a>
In grade five they taped a sign to her desk
That read beware of dog<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

To this day
Despite a loving husband
She doesn\u2019t think she\u2019s beautiful<\/a>
Because of a birthmark
That takes up a little less than half of her face<\/a>
Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
That someone tried to erase
But couldn\u2019t quite get the job done<\/a>
And they\u2019ll never understand
That she\u2019s raising two kids
Whose definition of beauty
Begins with the word mom
Because they see her heart
Before they see her skin
Because she\u2019s only ever always been amazing<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He
Was a broken branch
Grafted onto a different family tree
Adopted
Not because his parents opted for a different destiny
He was three when he became a mixed drink
Of one part left alone
And two parts tragedy<\/a>
Started therapy in 8th grade
Had a personality made up of tests and pills<\/a>
Lived like the uphills were mountains
And the downhills were cliffs<\/a>
Four fifths suicidal<\/a>
A tidal wave of anti depressants
And an adolescence of being called popper<\/a>
One part because of the pills
Ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
He tried to kill himself in grade ten<\/a>
When a kid who could still go home to mom and dad
Had the audacity to tell him \u201cget over it\u201d<\/a>as if depression
Is something that can be remedied
By any of the contents found in a first aid kit<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

To this day<\/a>
He is a stick of TNT lit from both ends<\/a>
Could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
In the moments before it\u2019s about to fall
And despite an army of friends
Who all call him an inspiration<\/a>
He remains a conversation piece between people
Who can\u2019t understand
Sometimes becoming drug free
Has less to do with addiction
And more to do with sanity<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We weren\u2019t the only kids who grew up this way
To this day
Kids are still being called names<\/a>
The classics were
Hey stupid
Hey spaz<\/a>
Seems like each school has an arsenal of names
Getting updated every year<\/a>
And if a kid breaks in a school
And no one around chooses to hear
Do they make a sound?<\/a>
Are they just the background noise
Of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
When people say things like<\/a>
Kids can be cruel?<\/a>
Every school was a big top circus tent
And the pecking order went
From acrobats to lion tamers
From clowns to carnies<\/a>
All of these were miles ahead of who we were
We were freaks
Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies<\/a>
Oddities<\/a>
Juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle
Trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal<\/a>
But at night
While the others slept
We kept walking the tightrope
It was practice<\/a>
And yes
Some of us fell<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I want to tell them<\/a>
That all of this shit
Is just debris
Leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
We used to be<\/a>
And if you can\u2019t see anything beautiful about yourself
Get a better mirror
Look a little closer
Stare a little longer<\/a>
Because there\u2019s something inside you
That made you keep trying<\/a>
Despite everyone who told you to quit<\/a>
You built a cast around your broken heart
And signed it yourself
You signed it
\u201cThey were wrong\u201d<\/a>
Because maybe you didn\u2019t belong to a group or a clique
Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything<\/a>
Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth
To show and tell but never told<\/a>
Because how can you hold your ground
If everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it<\/a>
You have to believe that they were wrong<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

They have to be wrong<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why else would we still be here?<\/a>
We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog<\/a>
Because we see ourselves in them
We stem from a root planted in the belief
That we are not what we were called<\/a>
We are not abandoned cars stalled out and
Sitting empty on a highway<\/a>
And if in some way we are
Don\u2019t worry
We only got out to walk and get gas
We are graduating members from the class of Fuck Off We Made It<\/a>
Not the faded echoes of voices crying out
Names will never hurt me<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Of course
They did<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But our lives will only ever always
Continue to be
A balancing act<\/a>
That has less to do with pain
And more to do with beauty<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

What has the author said about “To This Day”? In the description of the video, Shane shares that the poem\u2019s purpose is to inspire others to stand up: My experiences with violence in schools still echo throughout my life but standing to face the problem has helped me in immeasurable ways. Schools and families areContinue reading<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-3468","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3468","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3468"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3468\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3469,"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3468\/revisions\/3469"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3468"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}