We recently took a look at the imagery of Shane Koyczan's "To This Day". I asked my students to identify some of the images that they found particularly powerful or which might connect to them personally. They then wrote reactions to those images. The reactions could be academic or they could be purely visceral. After all, poetry can create those varied responses, and they are all legitimate. Some of my kids responses, in all honesty, floored me. They were personal, they were open, and some of them were raw. Many of them added to the view I already hold of some of these young people: they are strong and amazing, and they do and will make this world a better place.
Another activity in our class is writing a response poem. The students locate a "classic" poem that they connect with, something that speaks to them. They then take the imagery, symbolism, or theme of that poem and write a response, an original piece that presents their voice or view on the idea. We look at pieces presented as part of the "Get Lit Classic Slam", partly because there are some incredible pieces created by high school students as part of that program. The poets are not dusty and dead; they are living and breathing and often look just like my kids.
As part of the process, I try to write with my kids. If I am going to ask them to bleed on the page, it is only right that I do the same. Sometimes, I fail miserably. Sometimes, I do ok. So, yesterday, I was scrolling through our poetry booklet online, looking for a poem to use as my classic poem. I love Frost, and thought I might use "Out, out..." or "Nothing Gold Can Stay." Then I hit a title that, at the time, screamed at me. "The Rose That Grew from Concrete". The piece is actually part of an interview with Tupac Shakur. Tupac is more famous as a rapper, but he was a poet in his own right. His words were later used in a voiceover of a Powerade commercial. Poetry is everywhere.
I listened to the words of Shakur, and as I heard and read them, the responses I had read from my students came to mind. Our kids are just that: kids. They are YOUNG people. Yes, they are growing up, and yes, we must help prepare them for the future. But part of preparing them is remembering that they are learning as they go. And they stumble, and they fall. Sometimes, they fall hard, and it is sometimes not of their doing. And even if it is of their doing, isn't part of our role to help them grow past that fall? For some of our kids, school is the safest place in their world. Perhaps, the only safe place. We cannot steal that from them; we have to capitalize on it and help them grow beyond whatever it is that is dragging them down. And the scary part about that is that we never know exactly who needs a ray of hope that day, or for what reason. That nod in the hallway, the softly asked question, the @ on Twitter, or the pat on the back might be so much more than just that little gesture. It may be the glimpse of sunshine that helps turn around a day. Every one of our kids deserves a chance to grow, and so many of them do. They take what tries to knock them down, they stomp it into submission, and then they use it as a stepping stone to something better. Sometimes, they just need a little boost to help them get up.
So, as the year moves toward a close and we zero in our focus on graduation, grading, and finals, we need to remind ourselves of why we are there in the first place. We are there for the kids. We should celebrate them as they grow.
Classic/Inspiration
From “The Rose That Grew from Concrete”
By Tupac Shakur
You see,
You wouldn’t ask why the rose that grew from concrete had damaged petals.
On the contrary,
We would all celebrate its tenacity,
We would all love its will to reach the sun.
Well,
We are the roses.
This the concrete.
These are my damaged petals.
Don’t ask me “why?”
Ask me “how?”
Response
“These Damaged Petals”
By Jason Kohls (2017)
Petals that cling desperately,
As if fluttering to earth was a spiralling into hell,
Turn brown around the edges,
Lose their crimson hue,
And their delicate grasp,
Making that descent to the dirt that lay beneath.
But it is not into the flames of torment that the petals
Fall.
Not toward the searing pain of death,
But, in reality,
Quite the opposite.
As the drying petal falls,
It leaves behind a scarlet blossom,
Beautiful and delicate,
One whose fragrance still dances on the night breeze,
For it is only as the rose sheds it damaged petals,
Letting them flutter to the earth from which it grows,
Can the flower’s beauty
Turn itself to the sun,
As the petals, preserved in their dried state,
Remain about the rosebush,
Blanketing the dust in elegance,
A part of the past,
That leads to continual future.
