There Once Was a Contrary Poet

"I think I'm done with the writing challenge," a student named Ben told me this morning.

I looked at my watch. "You wrote a limerick in 3 minutes?" I asked him. "Let me hear it."

He read me his poem.

I shook my head. "That's not a limerick." 

"Why not?" he asked.

"It has six lines," I started, "and the rhyme scheme is supposed to be AABBA, not to mention your syllables are off."

"Oh," he sighed. "Well, I don't think I like limericks. I think this poem is fine. I like these rules that I followed."

"What rules?" I said.

"Mine!" he laughed.

"Are you saying you wrote a Benrick? I teased him. "Unfortunately, that's not the assignment!"

Arts and Sciences

As we near the end of our annual poetry unit, my colleagues and I have noticed that our students know very little about poetry. Where in past years, discussion of simile, metaphor, and personification would be mostly review, this year it seemed to be new material for the majority of kids. Haiku was also new to many, as was Cinquain, Limerick, and other common forms. 

It's hardly surprising: the pandemic left educators scrambling to fill essential gaps in our students' skills and knowledge, and I guess poetry and figurative language were triaged out for a few years. Even so, I was a little shocked today.

The lesson was simple: review rhyme, write a 12-line rhyming poem, and label the rhyme scheme. Or it would have been if most of the sixth graders could actually rhyme. I started to get an idea about this gap in their skill set during the warm-up question which was to add one more rhyming line to this couplet:

If you're feeling down and blue
here is something you can do...

Have some tea wrote the first person.

Take a deep breath wrote another.

Try to be cool was a little closer.

You have nothing to lose was also arguably slant.

Chew some gum and have some fun. I could see where they thought that might work.

I gave examples, they made some quick edits, and then we moved on to the lesson. Some were getting it, others not so much. Able to write anything at all, they were composing lines such as this:

I like winter
because it is thinner
the smell of hot chocolate
and roses, not violets

or

My dog is fat
my mom slapped
the bat is flat
I got smacked

or this:

I love my dog.
She is the color of cream.
My dog is kind.
She likes running.

Clearly, the deficits run deep.  Maybe if we called it the "science of poetry" it would get a little more attention!

Embrace the Ride

I knew what was about to happen, and I laughed as we crested the hill and the car caught a little bit of air before bouncing onto the downslope. Everyone's guts flipped, and we sped down the incline toward the valley, the next summit looming ahead. 

We were on our way to Carlisle on PA-94, a road that runs like a roller coaster track straight up and over South Mountain, a peak that ironically forms the northern end of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Heidi gave me a look and reminded me that our dog was not always the best car traveler, especially in hilly terrain, but the road was as it was, and short of slowing down well below the speed limit, we were in for a ride. 

I was reminded of the roads in rural Maryland that we drove on as kids with my Aunt Harriett. Despite our cries for moderation, she embraced the ride, and our stomachs did somersaults as she barreled along in her white station wagon, five screaming kids bouncing in the back, long before the days of seatbelts.

Surely, it was the screams that saved us. I always hated roller coasters and rode them my body tense with dread trying not to scream. Years later, when Heidi told me that you have to scream to release your body's natural fear and thus enjoy the ride, I sort of got the point of those terrible contraptions. 

I laughed again as we neared the top of the next hill. "Sorry, Lucy," I said over my shoulder, "but here we go!"

My Year of the Theater

Whenever the goddaughters are here, we try to find something special and fun to do. Over the years it's been a variety of activities: geocaching, petting zoos, and duck tours when they were little, shopping, movies, fun restaurants, donut crawls, and magic shows when they were a bit older, and recently it's been road trips and musicals. For this weekend, though, we were kind of stuck. Nothing seemed to be going on that might fit the bill.

But this morning, as I clicked around a bit, I decided to check the Kennedy Center and see if there was anything new or something I may have missed. That's when I found the listing for Message in a Bottle. 

The peaceful village of Bebko is alive with joyous celebrations. Suddenly, under attack, everything changes forever. Three siblings, Leto, Mati, and Tana, must embark on perilous journeys in order to survive. Message In A Bottle is a spectacular new dance-theater show from five-time Olivier Award nominee Kate Prince, inspired by and set to the iconic hits of Kennedy Center Honoree and 17-time Grammy® Award–winning artist Sting.

Dancing and Sting? I knew Heidi would love it, so I ran it by Laney, checked for tickets, and a couple of hours later we found ourselves seated in the opera house. As the lights went down, I was prepared to tolerate whatever was on the stage for the good of the group, and so as shadow dancers moved to soft strains of Fields of Gold, I crossed my arms and settled back. 

I was wrong though. The tale of family, war, and refugees told completely in dance and with new arrangements and recordings of the music was very moving. I was reminded that I know Sting's entire catalog and love it. I spent the show thinking of my own siblings and the time we spent listening to Sting and the Police, and I wished they were there to share the experience and their thoughts on the production.

As it was, we all loved the show, and I'm going to make it a point to see another one soon.

19/24

We rose at the usual 5:15, completed our morning routine, and headed off to work at 7:15. Seven hours later, after a full school day, we dashed out the door at the bell and drove north to pick up our goddaughter from college for a weekend visit. Six hours later, we turned the key in the lock and were greeted by Lucy. We unloaded the car and started dinner. Four hours later, we headed off to bed, but only after a good meal and a few rounds of card games.

I'm pretty sure I'll sleep well tonight!

Yielding to Circumstances

Today is National Poem-in-your-pocket Day, an occasion I have enjoyed celebrating with my students for nearly 20 years. In that time, we have done some pretty amazing events, including recorded interviews, choral readings, and other performance opportunities. Mostly, though, we just give kids a chance to select a poem they love, write it down, carry it with them, and share it with others.

Our school moved to a block schedule in 2021, and as positive as it can be, it does put a crimp on our usual revels. Since I only see half of the students on any given day, I don't get to mark Poem-in-your-pocket Day with the classes that are not scheduled. Oh, we can celebrate it the next day, but the unity of having the whole sixth grade do the same fun poetry thing is lost, and I miss it.

But, in the spirit of doing the best we can with what we have, I just tell the kids on the off day that we are celebrating Orthodox Poem-in-your-pocket Day. They don't get it, but it amuses me.

Here's a poem for today:

The Milkweed
By Richard Wilbur 

Anonymous as cherubs 

over the crib of God 

white seeds are floating 

out of my burst pod. 

What power had I 

before I learned to yield? 

Shatter me, great wind: 

I shall possess the field.

Location is Key

We gathered in the library for what was billed as a brief staff meeting. It wasn't, but it was the first time our staff has met in the library since COVID. Up until now we have maintained the option of distance by meeting in the theater. 

Except? 

That's not really a meeting. 

Maybe it's my 30+ years in the building and the fact that we always met in the library, but being there made sitting on my ass at the end of an already long day listening to information I have heard a million times almost a pleasure.

Almost.