You think
if you swell your chest
and shout with a voice that covers others’
if you argue
every word from the teacher’s mouth
that somehow you can win.
Oh, but hon,
who really has the power?
Consequences grow with your defiance
and you’re the one who loses.
The class laughs,
but it’s at you, not with you.
Biliousness and lies do not lead to success.
Trust me,
honey catches the flies
of achievement and respect.
Max and Jenn were in our grade eight classes
and our grade nine classes,
but then, they were not.
Where are they? asked the teachers.
Whispers replied to one another in the back rows,
I saw them outside The Royal Anne.
They’re turning tricks. Doing drugs.
We blinked at one another that our peers
would make such choices,
muttered, How terrible.
We slowed down our lives to peer into the
accident scene of their lives
from a safe distance,
but did any of us go downtown,
and offer them a different option?
.
.
.
This is a forty-year old memory. Where are they now, I wonder?
The never ending circle
of expectation raised
no effort was applied
of failure achieved
makes me want to scream.
What makes the difference
between students who give up
and those who persevere
to find success?
Perhaps it’s in their mantras:
I don’t care
versus
I care.
Those who say they don’t care, do,
but they simply don’t believe
they can.
Your desperation
leads me to exasperation
How many times do I tell you?
How many times did I tell you?
How many times will I tell you?
Too many.
Once more.
If you do it when you’re asked
Begin when assigned the task
You will not be desperate
and I will not exasperate.
Deadlines
Frantic writers
Paper piles
Late work
Term tests
Blurry eyes
Tabulating
Check marks
Sore butt
Report card time.
How much of the stuff that they make you teach us
Do you really want to teach? He asked
What are you talking about? I reply.
I LOVE this stuff!
We’re passionate about our subject,
glory in the possibilities,
long to share wisdom!
Do you know how many years I studied this stuff?
I adore it all!
Oh,
how wonderful when we connect students to our subject
so they are empowered by it, too.
Mrs. Filber’s daughter memorized Poe’s The Raven and recited it for her mother’s sixth grade class. Student Wanda reflected years later, “This was my first encounter with the power of poetry…How independent Mrs. Filber’s daughter was–she could conjure up this poem at any time in the future, enjoying it again and again!” (May, W. 1991. “The Arts and Curriculum as Lingering.” p. 145).
What power in memory
to pull from air,
call upon bardic traditions,
weave words around ears.
Captivate.
Infiltrate.
Enervate
with poetry.
.
.
(A little poetry inspired by my grad school reading today).
Again
an A
beside your name.
Nine boxes for nine days.
Six A’s.
You, with that great brain,
want A’s
on your transcript
not your attendance record.
What is happening in your world
that keeps you from learning?
Ties shackles to your potential
for excellence? Your health is fine.
Oh, dear girl,
What can we do
to advocate for you?
Every day you approach the computer
“What are we doing again?” I show you where to see the assignment. I review the expectations, the objectives, the criteria.
“Oh! Okay! I get it!” you say, and set to work.
The next day, we do it again.
Today you stare at me with blank, hollow eyes.
“I don’t get it,” you say.
Everyone else is busily working. You’ve been absent. When you come, you have to study for a test in another subject. Or see the counselor. Or help your friend. In fourteen hours of research time, you’ve been here for eight. Do you have anything to show for the time? Others have the list of the websites they consulted, pages of notes, excitement over how they’ll turn research into a presentation next week.
You have confusion.
The same confusion from the first day. Repeated again. Some days we can help you. Some days you are confident and productive.
But nothing stays in your memory more than an hour.
Other days you are sullen and oppositional, because you’re sure you’ve never seen this before, and you’re angry about it.
“This is stupid.”
What more can I do? I ask. They tell me your parents refuse to have you tested. They don’t want you to have a label, so we don’t know if this is a cognitive impairment, learning disability, or the results of drug use or a sports injury. A label comes with funding to give you the additional support you plainly need. Keep repeating expectations. Keep explaining the criteria. I agree. This is stupid.
The course is almost over and you return each day to week one, living a personal Groundhog Day loop,
and no one knows how to pull you out.
You cannot make me do this work!
This class is dumb and you’re a jerk.
I will not hand in a single paper
You cannot make me do it later.
Hey, our report cards have arrived
HE FAILED ME? (insert dramatic sighs)
I hate this school! Look at this report, see-
how all the teachers clearly hate me!
Don’t tell me that they can’t give credit
unless there’s work for them to edit.
Don’t tell me if I don’t show what I can do
then they have nothing to give them a clue.
None of this is my fault, you shrew!
I’m quitting school, so screw each and every one of you!
.
(This has terrible scansion. I apologize)
Shawn L. Bird 