Poetry in Schools (pictures on their way)

- Ok so who here likes poetry?

My question was reflected right back at me through the quizzical looks on their faces. Typical response, really, the one I was actually going for. A few shy hands in the back row made their way through the air, but half heartedly, and they suddenly fell as quickly as they rose.

-Hm. Ok. How about Eminem?

I'll stop there for a moment. I know it might seem like I just did something a little nuts (calling Eminem a poet). But hey, I had to get their attention and I had a point to make. The class erupted

-Kanye West? Taleb Kwali?

Even louder yays.

-Cool, well the type of poetry I do is called Spoken Word or Performance Poetry. Its a miz between the poetry you read in books for school and the music you listen to on the radio.

They looked at me expectantly, growing silent. Like I had three heads. The strange notion that there could be some demonic love child mixture between The Roots and Shakespeare was a little strange to them.

People have a really short attention span these days. Particularly people between the ages of 11 and 16. Even more so when those people are learning English as a second or third language, like these kids were. It wasn't the time for one of my longer, awk shucks, hands in pockets, girl next door poems. It was time for a fast, punchy poem. One that sounds good.

So I broke into my Drop Beats Not Bombs poem. Vaguely political, an explanation of the uses of modern poetry with simple words and a strong beat to keep them awake. It lasts about 30 seconds.

First I did it quickly, then again, a bit slower. They picked out words and phrases they recognized and then tried to analyze the poem. I was really shocked to see how quickly they picked up on themes and symbolism.

They wanted to hear another poem. A slower one, called out the boy from the back. So I did that same old love poem I do everywhere. And at first the kids giggled a bit when I finished, until one girl in the front row with big melted chocolate eyes asked if it was a true story. And when I said yes, she turned around to the rest of the class and said in fast german what I can only imagine resembled "shut up! it's true!" and caused all the girls looked at me sadly and let out a big unison "aw"

After class, a girl who had stayed quite most of the lesson approached me. She told me she wanted to be a singer and wanted to know if I could tell her where she could start. I gave her information about a few open mics that I knew about. I told her to look in the newspaper and in cafes that had advertisements for open mics, and that once she started performing there she would meet people who know more about the music scene than I do.

I went down to the teacher's lounge (oh how cool! so long during my academic career I had dreamt of hanging out in the teachers lounge with cool teachers, sipping on strong coffee and talking about the lessons). The teachers from the two classes I had just visited seemed really pleased with the students' reaction. The idea of spoken word poetry itself, let alone using it as a tool in the classroom was new for them. They were enthusiastic about attempting to integrate spoken word into their English as a foreign language classes. I was excited for them.

Back in Canada, someone once told me that he enjoyed performing for lots of different crowds, particularly for younger people because you never know who you will inspire. I remember I was inspired when I was 14 and just happened to catch a spoken word performance at summer camp. But unfortunately, most kids don't get the opportunity to be exposed to such alternative art, especially when dealing with public schools that aren't funded well, or when they come from limited financial backgrounds. But those are the kids with the most amazing stories. Those are the ones that need to hear it the most. Why deny them the opportunity to create an escape for themselves?

And that's how I felt about these kids. The "rough" kids. The ones whose parents are too busy integrating into Austrian society. The ones who didn't have the opportunity to learn English until now. These kids came from all over central and eastern Europe. Who knows what they've seen, or what they've experienced.

At the end of the second lesson, one of the teachers asked her students if they felt like they could write a poem now, after meeting a "real poet" (a title which still causes me to giggle, even after this whole year). The entire class raised their hands.

Oh, satisfaction