March 7: Saint Teresa Margaret Redi and the Second Graders

Last Friday, I was the visiting poet for two second grade classes at my daughter's elementary school.  I've been doing this every year since my daughter was in kindergarten (she's currently is fourth grade).  I usually go into the experience with apprehension, even a little dread.  I'm never sure if my lesson is going to be too easy or too hard.  It's not difficult to go over the heads of second graders.  They're short and have the attention spans of Charlie Sheen around porn stars.  Translation:  to keep second graders focused, read poems about burping, farting, or vomiting.

Once I have my lesson plan figured out, I usually relax and have a lot of fun in the classroom.  There's something about seven-year-olds that just keeps you honest and on your toes.  I was reading a poem about chocolate-covered salami last Friday, and the little girl sitting in front of me raised her hand.  When I called on her, she said, "My mom keeps M&Ms in her dresser drawer for emergencies."  I nodded and tried to continue.  The boy next to the little girl chimed in, "I'm allergic to chocolate."

I'd kill myself if I were allergic to chocolate, kid, I thought.  But I said, "So what do you eat on Halloween?"  Wrong question.  Suddenly, every child in the room wanted to tell me about their favorite Halloween candy.

Eventually, I regained control of the classroom.  Eventually, I got the students to complete the lesson I'd planned.  Eventually, each and every child had a simile poem to add to their poetry books.

As I was getting ready to leave, one of the second graders came up to me and said, "Can you sign my journal?"  I took out my pen and wrote, "You're as smart as a calculator."  The student was thrilled.  He went back to his desk and showed his friends what I'd written.  (Can you see what's coming?)  I suddenly found myself at the head of a line of 40+ seven-year-olds, all wanting their own, personal similes:

You're as pretty as a tulip.
You're as fast as a cheetah.
You're as sweet as a chocolate kiss.
You're as funny as a knock-knock joke...

Today's saint is Teresa Margaret Redi, and 18th century nun from Tuscany.  Teresa only lived to the age of 23, and, in that time, she taught those around her about charity, self-sacrifice, and joy.  Teresa had a "special grace of contemplative insight."  I don't know exactly what that means, but I want to believe it refers to her ability to cut through the bullshit, see things the way they really are.  Like those second graders I met.  The prayer that follows Teresa's entry in Lives of the Saints says, "Her life encourages us to show young people the joys and graces of a life lived in the depths of God's perfect love."

So often in my life, I don't feel like a poet.  I feel like a medical records clerk.  College comp instructor.  Husband.  Son.  Brother.  Father.  Chauffeur.

Those second graders made me feel like a poet.  They wanted my autograph because I was handing out my talent, my gift.  I felt great.  I felt appreciated.  I felt valued.  As a writer.  That's what Teresa did with her life, too.  She made people appreciate their gifts, each and every day.

Saint Marty met 40 second grade saints last Friday.  So, in their honor, Saint Marty ends this post with the poem he wrote in their class:

Skunk

I'm as smelly as cooked cabbage.

I'm as quiet as the night.

I'm as dark as a thunderstorm.

I'm as light as Christmas snow.

I'm as soft as a pile of leaves.

I'm as hungry as a boa constrictor.

I'm as loved as a toothache.