9th grade

first, it is important to mention that i work with students who are labeled "underachieving". i am what's known as a special education teacher and what makes the education special is, i think, the immense need my students bring with them. it's not just academic. there's a better chance a kid in my class has a drug addicted parent than that the kid has a non-environmental learning disability.

today my student teacher brought in a poem because we both spaced "poem in your pocket" day yesterday. it starts out "i wanna read a poem" and it's a relatively long poem, but it gets all riled up. it is not highly literary, but it makes kids hate poetry less. so the student teacher read it out loud, then a student read it and we discussed the first few lines and how to fashion a poem beginning like the one we read. this group is in 9th grade with reading and writing levels ranging between 2nd and 7th grade, spiking a bit when they're interested. the kids got to read their poems aloud to the class. they stand up at the front of the room and read. everyone claps and cheers. they sit down.

one child had a pretty challenging poem she wanted to read. i have a handful of kids like her every year- the kind of sweet, confused kids who make you want to grab their parents and shake them when you find out what they put their kids through. earlier this year the child had an assignment to write about a time she felt afraid. she wrote about when she was three or so and her mom just didn't come home. she wrote about what it was like to be scared and to be hungry and small. for those who don't do much grading, it is difficult to correct spelling and punctuation when you're reading something like that. we knew her poem was about her mom so when she asked to stay seated while she read it, we all agreed. she asked me to hold her hand, so i sat next to her desk and she started in a shaky voice:

i wanna kiss my momma
i wanna let her be loved
i wanna say, "ma, it's all right at
the end" because i'm sick
and tired of saying "go".

she is already in tears at this point and so am i so i keep my head down. she squeezes my hand hard and the room is silent when she pauses for breath. she goes on about what she misses and when she reads the line "so tired of everyone telling me she's dumb and a slut" there is almost a hum in the room but nobody is saying a word. the kids are used to drama but this is like nothing they were expecting in class. it hurts them to be part of this while it's happening. she continues with a stanza about her twin baby siblings and about how she wants to take care of her mom, go get her and bring her home. she finishes up the way she started:

all i wanna do is just kiss my momma
i wanna let her be loved
i wanna say, "ma, it's all right at
the end" because i'm sick
and tired of saying "go".

and the kids don't know what to do. they're not even breathing. i whisper to her that her poem is wonderful and when the student teacher and i start clapping the whole room explodes. nobody wants to be first because they're not sure it's okay. but then everyone claps and yells. several kids have wet eyes. i walk around the room while we're getting ready for the next poem and notice a girl from the back of the class run up to the front, kneel down and put her arms around the child who just read. i hear the word "brave". the reader is still shaking so we walk outside. i don't know what to say so i tell her how my own dad brought his lost dad back into his life, into our lives. i rely on his experiences a lot in my class and the kids have developed a faith in their own ability to survive based on his survival. i want her to know the things she imagined in her poem are possible on some level. other students are putting away books at the end of class when we walk back in and the whole room crowds around this child. they talk about how awesome her poem is and how brave she is to keep reading something so difficult. they do not drip pity. they are in a strange place where they feel completely in awe and fiercely protective at the same time.

i'm always trying to find new ways to show the kids the power of language, especially through poetry. what i'm learning after many years of standing in front of the room saying things in a loud voice is that they always learn it when i'm sitting still in their section of the room, silent. they always learn it better from each other.