Sunday, July 01, 2007
The power of poetry
I had lost faith and then something dropped out of the sky into my locker and brought me back to my senses again.
One of my most problematic classes is filled with surly teenagers. The last place they want to be on a Sunday afternoon is cooped up studying English.
I approached a poetry teaching session with this group with absolute dread. How could I generate even a few words out of this sullen, silent group? I gave them a sheet of words to help. Actually, I gave them to my co-teacher, Lisa.
So, yesterday when I came to Apollo I opened up my locker and found a pile of magic. These sullen, moody kids had produced some terrific, creative, poetry. They wrote in the shapes of stars, boxes and suns and found ways to relate themselves to the stars, the moon and even Pluto. Their words defied gravity and my expectations.
We posted their work in the classroom today and they were very happy to see it go on the walls. Excited chatter filled the classroom as I struggled with the sticky putty and tacks to display their grammatically jagged dreams on the walls. Grammatically jagged, just like adolescence.
I was wrong to ever doubt Poetry.
Always write poetry,
write standing
sitting
lying
write poetry knee deep in flood,
limping through the village
or falling off a barstool
write after kissing
and before eating
during prayer
and on waking
write when you fear the future
regret the past
or cough up the present
write when you're thankful
when you're angry
especially when you're in despair
there is nothing better then this
to write from your heart
even when all else
fails
One of my most problematic classes is filled with surly teenagers. The last place they want to be on a Sunday afternoon is cooped up studying English.
I approached a poetry teaching session with this group with absolute dread. How could I generate even a few words out of this sullen, silent group? I gave them a sheet of words to help. Actually, I gave them to my co-teacher, Lisa.
So, yesterday when I came to Apollo I opened up my locker and found a pile of magic. These sullen, moody kids had produced some terrific, creative, poetry. They wrote in the shapes of stars, boxes and suns and found ways to relate themselves to the stars, the moon and even Pluto. Their words defied gravity and my expectations.
We posted their work in the classroom today and they were very happy to see it go on the walls. Excited chatter filled the classroom as I struggled with the sticky putty and tacks to display their grammatically jagged dreams on the walls. Grammatically jagged, just like adolescence.
I was wrong to ever doubt Poetry.
Always write poetry,
write standing
sitting
lying
write poetry knee deep in flood,
limping through the village
or falling off a barstool
write after kissing
and before eating
during prayer
and on waking
write when you fear the future
regret the past
or cough up the present
write when you're thankful
when you're angry
especially when you're in despair
there is nothing better then this
to write from your heart
even when all else
fails
Labels: education, poetry, Viet Nam
