This is a poem I wrote this week, my last week with the Greater Madison Writing Project Summer Institute. It started as a letter, but I think will end up as a spoken word piece. I hope it articulates who I am to as a writer/teacher of writing and my hopes for my students. Enjoy.
Well. It looks like we have all ended up in an English class.
Some of you rejoice.
Some of you shudder with horror.
Some of you exude indifference.
Maybe you are here because you know me and wanted to be here.
Maybe you are here because it fit into your schedule.
Maybe you are here because you need .5 English this semester.
Maybe you are here because you failed last year and you are hoping that second-time is a charm.
Throughout the semester, I will often tell you that I know everything.
(This is just a lie I say to be funny.)
But I do know this: whether you are rejoicing, shuddering or sleeping; whether you think you are here because of your schedule, your English credits, your failure,
I know that you are here,
That we all are here,
To remove ourselves from the illusion of our separateness.
You might call it English class,
I call it a journey.
The thing about our lives, although we all are in such different places,
is that no matter how we stack it
we are more alike than we are different.
And while the world often makes us feel alone in our struggles,
you can find in here:
peers and poets
storytellers and songs
that have asked the same questions that keep you up at night,
laughed at the same jokes (the kind that make your face hurt),
and cried the same tears that you are afraid to tell anyone about.
Because we all share the human condition,
and I can learn more from you
than you ever thought you had to give.
In our room we will read from authors:
in our midst
and outside.
We will write who we are,
what we know,
and why we dream for more.
I can tell you that you need to write to do well on the ACT, get into a good school, to get a job.
But I know that you already know that
and honestly,
I don’t think those are great reasons to write anyway.
We write so that we might come into our own lives - the people we were, are, and want to be.
I want you to know that writing is the hardest mountain to climb,
but will also slip effortlessly from your fingers like sand.
Writing is a risky cliff dive into icy water,
and it is coming home to fresh baked bread
all at the same time.
And this is another thing that I do know for sure:
Every time we write
we get better
and every time we write,
we become more fully ourselves.
I don’t care about your ACT score, where you go to school, or what you do to pay the rent.
I want to help you to learn to have a good life.
And if you are working to become better and more fully yourself
you will be well on your way.
I will ask a lot of you,
and I will always believe in you.
I promise to respect you,
to challenge you,
to grow with you.
Come as you are (it is the most important thing you can be).
Raise your pens, open your minds, and see:
that what exists between us is nothing more than the illusion of our separateness.
What exists between us means the world.
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