I woke up remembering the children to whom I once taught writing—the ones who came to my house during many summers, the ones I later joined at a garden, Chanticleer.
For many, English was a second or third language. For some, home was an un-airconditioned two rooms in the heart of West Philadelphia. One was a burgeoning actress. One had a vocabularly that utterly dwarfed mine. One was an internationally acclaimed child pianist and composer who, though already in graduate school at the age of 12 and a frequent guest on David Letterman, hadn't had, in his short life, the chance to hang out with kids his own age, or to write his ideas onto the page. One hailed from Egypt, and one hailed from Pakistan, and one was my son, oh, the stories they told, and oh, how I loved them. Truly, I loved them all, not a single exception to that rule.
Today, perhaps because my friend the literacy coach Andra Bell had written to me about the children she loves, I woke up thinking of them.
Once, in the garden, I asked the children to break into groups and to walk the paths with me—some imagining themselves an elephant attempting to shimmy down the narrow macadam, some as 17th century explorers, some as a raft of musical notes, and some as a kite whose string was caught in a tree. As teams they collected metaphors. Singularly, then, they wrote their poems.
This morning I remember my friend, Samir, and his gift of a poem to Chanticleer, and to me.
I the kite
Avoid water,
Avoid elephants.
I seek out danger,
I want to know
Where everything is.
We have fears
Of lawn mowers and trees
Because we always want to be free.
We attract to color
Because we want to see
If there are more of us
Who want to be free.
Samir
What an amazing, eclectic bunch of kids you taught! Is there anything you haven't done?
"Because we want to see
If there are more of us
Who want to be free."
What a miracle!
PJ, I loved my kids. They were all far, far smarter than me. I was the lucky one there. As for what I haven't done: No book would be big enough to contain the list. Never managed to make a creme brulee, never went on a safari, never went alone to Iceland, like my friend cuileann (check out her blog).
cuileann: YES! Isn't that the powerful line!
What a wonderful poem!
Wow, what a privelege to teach such a diverse group. I once had the honor of teaching science to a child whose IQ dwarfed mine. LOL
I often thought he was 40 trapped in an 11 year old body. I learned more from him than he learned from me. I will never forget him. :)
Lovely poem!
Wow. What an amazing poem. Sounds like a fun group of kids. :)
Alea, Tiddly, Em: Thank you for sharing my delight in these kids. Even these few years later I remember the zing against the heart when I read the work they were producing.