January 25: My Best Subject, Second Graders, Poetry

...All I said was English was my best subject.

"Oh, really?  Oh, I'm so glad!" the one with the glasses, that taught English, said.  "What have you read this year?  I'd be very interested to know."  She really was.

Holden is speaking to a nun he has met in a restaurant.  The nun teaches English, and she strikes up a conversation with Holden about Romeo and Juliet.  Her enthusiasm reminds me of many of the middle and grade school teachers I've known.  They have unbridled enthusiasm for their students and subjects.  And they fill me with their enthusiasm.

This morning, I taught poetry to a class of second graders.  Their teacher, "Ms. Rita," was my daughter's kindergarten teacher.  I've been teaching poetry lessons to her classes ever since.  Six years in a row, and I've loved each time.  There's something very uninhibited about six- and seven-year-olds.  They are game for almost anything.  I've had Ms. Rita's students write poems about colors and animals and themselves and similes.

This year, I had them write found poems.  Basically, a found poem is a poem assembled from the lines and words of another source.  I did a poem based on Jack Prelutsky's work.  I did another based on Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech.  And I did a third one based on words I found on a package of Dove chocolates.  Then, the second graders had to "find" their own poems.

The class had just finished reading the story of the Gingerbread Man, so a lot of them chose that as a source.  It was fun and a little out-of-control.  We talked about chocolate and hippo chips and math.  And, after an hour, they sang me their "Thank You" song.  It was awesome.

Saint Marty wishes his college students were a little more like second graders, or maybe Saint Marty needs to be more like a nun.

I'm not sure this would be a good look for me

February 9: Mad-Libs, Rhyme, Nerves

I've spent most of the day working on my poetry lesson for the second graders tomorrow afternoon.  I had this huge idea of teaching them about rhyme and word play.  Sounds really good, doesn't it?  I mean, I've done lessons about simile and metaphor.  I've done lessons about color poetry.  I've done lessons about concrete imagery.  I just thought it would be fun to tackle sound and rhyme.

Sort of looks like me right now

Well, when I started putting it all together, it wasn't that simple.  I'm using Dr. Seuss' book If I Ran the Zoo, which is a good start.  Then I got stuck.  I couldn't figure an easy way to have the kids concentrate on language/words.  I ended up with a sort of mad-lib exercise that may be a little too advanced for second graders.  I'm hoping not.

Tonight I have to put together my visual aids.  Poster board stuff.  I don't mind doing it, but it's time consuming.  I'm hoping to get it done early, because I still have to work on my wife's resumes and cover letters for a couple of prospective jobs.  My nerves and anxiety are getting the better of me right now.

Saint Marty needs to relax a little bit.

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.