The Elementary Spirit of Poetry
I am teaching poetry in an elementary
classroom -- a tiny girl with a large soul,
gigantic brown framed eye glasses and
a silky brown bang writes a poem Dorothy
Parker would have been proud of
and Alice Walker would have adorned her
walls with, I tell her,"Dear student, you are
wise beyond your years.This is really
better than tremendous."
A gigantic girl with shoulders like Heinz
Ward sails across the classroom and
snatches the poem from the tiny girl's
hands. She and her fellow condors scuffle
to read it, their savage beaks bashing
together.
The teacher and I make the bully give the
verse back.
The tiny student sighs, looks up at us our
regretful, apologetic expressions and
states, "I am used to this."
I retort, " Ah, I see. Then, you are used to
being the kinder person and the better
writer. Your assets will help you...And,
them..."
Bell ring. End of class. Books gathered.
Dismissal.
Note: The poet loved teaching and loved
students and these situations amused her
and made her love all of them even more.
The next session they were far more
collegial.
Copyright © Romella Kitchens | Year Posted 2014
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