poetry

One of my favorite times to be a teacher at MATCH is when I'm allowed to chaperone the class trips to Barnes & Noble. Because of a grant, we're able to buy students a book or two every month... any book they want, really. I do, however, stipulate that if I open up to the middle and find something that "would embarrass my grandmother," they need to find a different book.

Apparently, some of my students' grandmothers would approve of books like "Eat, Play, F#@k."

Fortunately, Grandmas Marilyn and Caley are not so permissive.

This week, a travelling slam poet, a suave twenty-two year old man of color visited the tenth grade English classes this week. I watched boys attempt to hide goosebumps and girls dab away tears.

About a third of the sophomores chose books of poetry this week at B&N. Notably, Tayon, Travis, and Kamari found themselves:



Hmm... it seems they've learned something after all. I raised my eyebrow and told them to use their powers wisely.

outside the magic

I moved in August, into a tall, shady, somewhat ramshackle three-storey house, the interior of which I painted in goldtones and greys. I lobbied hard for this area of the city, almost entirely because of this time of year. Because the driveway (we have a driveway!) is carpetted in aromatic yellow leaves, and because there is a family across the street that sold brownies to help save endangered gorillas, and because Jamaica Plain is a community. Because there is a coffee shop a few blocks away with curry tofu salads, and because there are green places to walk and watch the seasons shift around you. It promised to be magical.

Last night, at dusk, was the annual lantern parade around the pond. Hundreds, maybe thousands of hand-holding adults and children, many costumed,carry homemade lanterns... halved two liters covered in tissue paper. The candles in these handheld containers line the pond in a sort of sacred ring, reflecting in the pond the whole way round as children giggle and dogs try to race ahead of their owners. I held no lantern as I walked through the darkness, just my mug of cinnamon tea.

I've been hearing about this parade for more than a year...waiting to see it with my own eyes and to feel a part.

But as I orbited the pond with the illumined children, I could not weave the spell for myself. They were just kids. Just lights. Just water and evening. No magic at all. It was holy, surely... but I was outside of it and my spirit could not speak or listen for the language that breathes without words. Some formerly sensitive instrument in me is diminished, dull. Just lights. Just a pond. No magic.

It reminded me of when I returned home early one Friday and was shocked to find the leaves had changed in the back yard.

I had not seen our house in daylight for weeks.

These were my students last year. They make me cry.

The MATCH School received the state-wide MCAS rankings on September 16 from Duce Productions/ Ariadne Media on Vimeo.