Slam!

I'd be lying if I didn't say preparing students for a poetry slam is stressful.  This entire year, not merely preparing for the slam, has been stressful.  My team of teachers has been breaking up fights, dealing with major behavior issues in class, feeling the pressure of teaching in a world filled with hate and gun violence.  Sometimes loud screaming in the halls causes people to think something more is about to happen. 

The afternoon before this year's slam, a young man emailed me to say he wasn't giving his poem.  I questions why he would tell me the night before instead of springing it on my as he was called to the front of the room.  After three or four emails, I looked at his poem to see what was going on.  Something tragic and frightening and unreal was exposed in the lines of the poem.  Once I realized the truth and consequences of the poem, I let him know that I get it, and he didn't need to give his poem.  It, however, filled my morning of the slam with connecting him with social workers and folks who could get him help. 

Another girl struggled all week with whether or not she was going to keep the line about her father being shot.  She talked to me after class almost every day trying to decide what to do.  It, of course, was her choice.  I could only listen.  The night before the slam, she emailed me saying she was going to add it and shared her poem which had added other related truths.

These kids are growing up in a world of violence.  I only hope that I can support them and give them a voice.  I hope that they eventually are the change towards peace in our world.

I realize that this isn't what I set down to post.  I was going to post about the shooting and the stress of being a teacher, but these words came out instead.  It is a blessing that I work with phenomenal teachers that support each other each and every day.  Although my job makes me crazy (maybe even literally), I'm glad I do what I do.