more than words

I wonder what you think of when you hear the word poetry? More often than not when I've introduced the topic to a class of teenagers there follows a collective slumping of shoulders.

And for a while, even in adulthood, I may have been inclined to agree. But just as I balk at the absurd suggestion when I'm told that someone doesn't like books - they just haven't found the right one for them yet - I have come to the same conclusion with poetry.

There is a poem (and poet) for everyone. And I reckon you need to start with the subject. What is it you're interested in, what experiences have you had and what in this world sparks your emotions?

I've never been a fan of the long and breezy poem that meanders with floral contortions over hill and dale. Nah. A couple of my earliest poet loves were Michael Rosen and Roger McGough. Two men who appeared on kid's telly with humourous rhymes I could relate to (and in the case of Rosen - the most hilarious facial expressions; us kids were glued).  Moving through secondary school and coming to understand the term ' ethnic minority' I devoured the words of Jackie Kay who in just one poem summed up my high school experience (go to page 13)

You see it didn't matter whether these poems rhymed or not, used fancy words or slang; I got them because they got me.

And so I continue onto my womanhood, mix in a little higher education, love and lust and loss and a whole heap of black women...well now...let me just rest while I cool myself with this here fan...Alice Walker, Maya Angelou, ntozake shange, Valerie Bloom, Jean Binta Breeze.

Poetry has power. I connected with the words which lead me to search for poems that would reach out and make sense to the closed ears in my classrooms. To do this I leant back to the poets I loved because then my enthusiasm for the poems I read out loud would be infused in each line. Luckily the exam board I taught thrust the likes of Simon Armitage and John Agard onto the curriculum so I dragged students and staff out to see them...LIVE!  Being a busy working mum of three my nights grooving at gigs may well and truly bitten the dust but here I was cheering and brap, brap, brapping with a bunch of year 11s at these two blokes who picked their words off the page and kicked them off the stage into a raucous crowd.  But you see, these kids...they got it.

We have come full circle in my house of poetry as I read Michael Rosen's poetry that makes my daughters double up in hysterics.

And so have I.  My teenage angst was penned across years and pages and whilst I may cringe a little, I have learnt to celebrate the me from then. And the me from now has re-discovered my love for my own poetry once again. Words and phrases seem to flow, just now, borne from an image in a photograph, sensation from a song, memory from my past, a face in my present, wishes in my future. All in all I am wrapped up in my poetry.

So that's what I'm writing these days.

This post i in response to the What I'm Writing linky week98

more than words

I wonder what you think of when you hear the word poetry? More often than not when I've introduced the topic to a class of teenagers there follows a collective slumping of shoulders.

And for a while, even in adulthood, I may have been inclined to agree. But just as I balk at the absurd suggestion when I'm told that someone doesn't like books - they just haven't found the right one for them yet - I have come to the same conclusion with poetry.

There is a poem (and poet) for everyone. And I reckon you need to start with the subject. What is it you're interested in, what experiences have you had and what in this world sparks your emotions?

I've never been a fan of the long and breezy poem that meanders with floral contortions over hill and dale. Nah. A couple of my earliest poet loves were Michael Rosen and Roger McGough. Two men who appeared on kid's telly with humourous rhymes I could relate to (and in the case of Rosen - the most hilarious facial expressions; us kids were glued).  Moving through secondary school and coming to understand the term ' ethnic minority' I devoured the words of Jackie Kay who in just one poem summed up my high school experience (go to page 13)

You see it didn't matter whether these poems rhymed or not, used fancy words or slang; I got them because they got me.

And so I continue onto my womanhood, mix in a little higher education, love and lust and loss and a whole heap of black women...well now...let me just rest while I cool myself with this here fan...Alice Walker, Maya Angelou, ntozake shange, Valerie Bloom, Jean Binta Breeze.

Poetry has power. I connected with the words which lead me to search for poems that would reach out and make sense to the closed ears in my classrooms. To do this I leant back to the poets I loved because then my enthusiasm for the poems I read out loud would be infused in each line. Luckily the exam board I taught thrust the likes of Simon Armitage and John Agard onto the curriculum so I dragged students and staff out to see them...LIVE!  Being a busy working mum of three my nights grooving at gigs may well and truly bitten the dust but here I was cheering and brap, brap, brapping with a bunch of year 11s at these two blokes who picked their words off the page and kicked them off the stage into a raucous crowd.  But you see, these kids...they got it.

We have come full circle in my house of poetry as I read Michael Rosen's poetry that makes my daughters double up in hysterics.

And so have I.  My teenage angst was penned across years and pages and whilst I may cringe a little, I have learnt to celebrate the me from then. And the me from now has re-discovered my love for my own poetry once again. Words and phrases seem to flow, just now, borne from an image in a photograph, sensation from a song, memory from my past, a face in my present, wishes in my future. All in all I am wrapped up in my poetry.

So that's what I'm writing these days.

This post i in response to the What I'm Writing linky week98

checkin' out some poetry

Youthful memories of poetry take me back to my FantasticoDad painfully trying to get me to memorise Macavity the Mystery Cat by TS Eliot and reciting Ozymandias by Shelley. Gove may be a fan of the learning by rote but back then I couldn't see the point. Until I came across Michael Rosen, Jackie Kay and Roger McGough. Poets that didn't drill dull words onto the page making my eyes swim or search for meaning on subjects that I didn't understand. Rosen and McGough wrote hilarious, naughty, outrageous poems about parents and schools and Kay was the first poet that enabled me to deal with my feelings as a black kid in an all white town.

Fast forward a gazillion years and this year has seen me passing the wonder (yes I succumbed)  of Macavity to my girls - which they loved it, took it school and everything - and sharing the beauty of Ozymandias with a bottom set in year 11 who not only explored the poetic techniques of this 19th century poem but argued with each other about the message within the poem. Year 11s - they'll argue about anything but what a buzz in the classroom!

With nearly twenty years of teaching English to teens and within that a stack of poetry, the one poet that always creates excitement, laughter and pupil participation to the classroom is John Agard. His poems leap off the page and bring a multitude of subjects and issues to enjoy and discuss. But the best way to experience his work is aloud, whilst I can offer a passable Caribbean accent, there is nothing better than listening to the poet himself. Either online or even better still on stage Guyanese, Agard's tone dances and explodes with rhythm and rhyme and minute pauses where we have to fill the gaps. My first experience of seeing Agard with GCSE students at the yearly Poetry Live was akin to witnessing what I expect it was like at the Smash Hits Poll Winners party back in the 80s. This poet is an absolute legend for these kids. They sat enthralled, repeated lines back at him on cue and buzz-talked about him all the way home.

Over the years the syllabus has allowed me to teach 'half-caste' and 'checkin' out me history' where we discuss the role of British history and what culture and identity meant to the students. But the one that resonates with me is 'Flag': a poem which, everytime I teach it, makes me lose track of time and throw lesson plans out of the window as students discuss the pros of cons of patriotism. A poem that's certainly not just for Black History Month as its relevance arises on Remembrance Day or any major sporting event for that matter. A poem that I often use alongside Owen and Sassoon.

People may theorize about the gap between the respect and understanding of young people and the older generation but every time I have brought his poetry to a classroom, this sexagenarian (the kids love that one!) bridges gaps and awakens minds. And then fun of all funs...they start writing the darn stuff.

Check him out yourself today. Happy National Poetry Day!

This post first appeared on post40bloggers: Education