64. Those Final Days

#64Challenge

Well, here I am. #64.

I don't need to say again that this was an incredibly intense school year, and that the lessons learned  will stay with me for a long time. I think I've stated that plenty during this project.

I've been holding this one for the end. Before I get to "those final days," a little backstory.

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The National Writing Project used to sponsor a professional development every February at Florida Gulf Coast University. There was always great workshops and a nationally known keynote speaker. During my first year teaching, I attended the conference, and the keynote was given by Brod Bagert, an animated and fun-loving poet, who taught me something essential I have never forgotten:

Young people need to hear their voices reciting poetry out loud. Once they hear it, everything else you want to teach them becomes easier. The meaning and power moves beyond words on a page.

I took this and immediately started Poetry Fridays. At the time I was teaching three double-blocked 6th graders, 90-minutes every day, Language Arts and Reading. Giving a half hour on a Friday seemed like the perfect thing to accomplish what Brod had promised.

And yes, I think there was a pay-off. At the time, the classes were mixed ability -- so I had gifted in with kids who couldn't read a lick. I was scrambling to make it work.

They took to Poetry Friday like birds sailing on the wisps of wind high up in the sky. Brod had said the kids needed to memorize the poems, but I knew that was not going to work. I would not get enough participation.

Instead, they had time to look up poems in the several poetry books I had, mark the page, give me a card with their name and poem, and then we had our presentations. I amplified the response by providing a variety of shaker instruments. No matter how good or bad someone read their poem, everyone cheered loudly.

Soon, a deeper community was being built, and I had girls who would regularly SING together during Poetry Friday. I cannot hear Ciara's "One Two Step" without thinking of them. A boy named Kenny in one of the classes became the emcee, including his own stand-up comedy every week. The connections between us became stronger, given the power of words in their voices. And when I introduced the Town Project, they sailed right into that as well. They had learned to raise each other up in ways that had not been accomplished up until that point.

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Fast forward to this past January, when I decided one of the focuses of my Creative Writing classes would be to "publish" in some way. I had witnessed and given in to kids being afraid to share their writing, and I decided to take some steps to move them beyond that fear. I had taught long enough to know how to take baby steps, and it actually worked. Pretty soon some of them were volunteering to  present slideshows, or asking me to read something out loud to the class they had written, and their typed out poems with artwork decorated every bit of wall space.

But the big challenge was yet to come. I decided at the end of 3rd quarter we were going to do Poetry Out Loud. They would have to get up and read their poem, and no one was exempt. I presented several options so everyone could find a place to fit -- one of them being a dual poem, written and performed with another writer.

On March 11th and 12th, the last days before spring break, we did the performances. I provided the shaker instruments, cookies and brownies, and lots of encouragement. A few writers had confided to me that they'd rather not do it, but once we got going everyone participated.

The timing had been perfect. After this, we were no longer together in the classroom. I was so grateful that I had pursued this, and that we had a chance to hear each others voices before we were all quarantined away from each other.

On the survey I gave the class at the end of our course, many students mentioned that they liked the event the best, especially the kids who had written and performed with others. It had given them a great memory. And as I reflect back on the school year, it is my most cherished memory as well. I love that I had come full circle on this, from those rough and tumble days of 2005, to nurturing classrooms of creative writers in 2020. There just could not have been a more perfect conclusion.

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And thus concludes my #64Challenge.