It was Fun But Not Fun Too. Anyway It Was Fun Though

Dear Candi, Thank you for coming and doing the poetry work shop. It was fun even though I didn't do the 1st poem and the last poem. But the letter to an object and the "now space" poems were fun. My favorite poem was the letter to an object. The now space one wasn't really that fun. I couldn't put myself into it. I mean it wasn't really me. Anyway it was fun though. Sincerly, Noah


This note cracks me up so much. On the first day I taught this year (beginning year five of teaching poetry at this middle school) I made a new decision. I was not going to spend extra energy on the kids that refused to write. I decided that they were listening during the lesson and sitting there quiet while all the kids were writing (you sit for 15 minutes quietly and see what your brain does). They were having an important experience too. So I did not go to them during the quiet writing time and have inane whispered conversations about "come on, what if you wrote, [whatever was on the top of my brain] and then went with that?" They would look at me like "yeah, let's keep talking close and quiet like this for a long time." But they would say, "I just can't do it. I just can't get started. I don't get it." It was awful and I was so exhausted by the time the other kids were done that I could barely enjoy the end of class where I perform/read the poems they wrote back to them.

As I read each poem I turn into Sir Lawrence Olivier. Stage voice and Silent Movie expressions. Big hand gestures. When do I get a chance to act like that? I mean, without the other adults around getting scared and suggesting shrinks. Sometimes they choke me up.

Or the teacher does. Jill, the first teacher I worked with this year, had just returned from having cancer. And her good friend and fellow teacher had just passed away from cancer. And she had just gotten married. On a Blue Moon on New Year's Eve on the end of a pier with umbrella fireworks overhead. She wrote a poem in each class I taught for her. Twelve classes. I told her she was well on her way to having her first poetry manuscript ready to publish.

So anyway, I didn't walk around while the kids wrote this time. I just stood at the podium and wrote in my journal and then looked at them when they talked too much with my be-quiet look. It was much better and I got just as many poems out of the kids that way as the other way. And I didn't have to do some weird emotional role-play for the apathetic ones. They were getting good energy as it was. The other can get murky because I would feel helpless. This way we all win.

And if you are reading this and happen to publish books or represent writers wishing to publish books, then it's very nice to have you here. Won't you have some coffee? I fixed it with local honey in an earthenware mug. It'll stay warm for a long time. Here, browse my old posts. I'll have to busy myself when you get to certain months (you know-PTSD triggers and all) but you'll certainly have warm coffee while you read. Do you like jazz? May I suggest Sonny Rollins through these purple headphones? You comfy? Good. Oh, and just so you know, I'm looking to get a book deal with which I can shower my family with money. Instead of my anxiety. You know. Money is better for them than my anxiety. You know? Right?