Me, teaching. (“Page from An atlas of anatomical plates of the human body … “/ by Frederic John Mouat)
It’s been a few weeks since my chapbook class for The Loft ended, and I miss my students. Probably most teachers think/feel this, but they really didn’t need me. They wrote beautiful poems and gave each other insightful feedback; I just held space for them and read their work and enjoyed the conversation. And I’m so impressed that everyone who participated in the class finished a draft of a chapbook! When one designs a new class, one never knows how (if) it’ll work, so I’m pretty happy about how it all shook out.
Now I’m deep in detail-planning mode for a new class I’ll be teaching in a few days. It’s an intensive poetry class for high school students called “Poetry in the Real World” and it’s going to be amazing (well, or not… see above re: class design on paper vs. reality…) The point of the class is to give students the agency to engage poetry as something touchable, to see how it is *of* the lived world and lived experiences. Too often I encounter the idea/feeling that poetry is esoteric, and while I love the esoteric, poetry is so broad and vital a form, so full of living possibilities, I hate thinking that students don’t have access to it. We’ll read all kinds of cool stuff: poetry of the body, protest poetry, eco poetry, and write a lot, too.
Best of all, the class will culminate with a poetry reading in which the students will share their own work with the public! EEEEk I’m excited.