This is my 6th cohort of teacher-leaders in the Invitational Leadership Institute and my ??? poem trying to capture the voices and perspectives of the students I have (although they teach me as much as I teach them. The 2016 crew was phenomenal as they always are. I'm entering this last day of Young Adult Literacy Labs with a smile. This has been another spectacular summer.
A Summer Together, Us
preface.
U and I
= We, &
b
ecause of us, this cohort free, is in harmony with the
u
nexpected, what is suspected as knowledge built from trust and
n
estled amongst cone flowers, we must, recognize the artistry of how we
t each
and trust that greater generations have searched and thrust,
u pon
oceans, skies and land. We become
M usic
makers when we stand, find a song
a nd
learn to hum the tunes no matter right or wrong, for
t
eaching colleagues and classrooms to become strong,
t hanking the Great Whatever to have this
opportunity to belong
e ach other
during a summer sing-a-long of
r
eflection, writing, and practice – alone, our
s olos
create a tune, but together its the cacophony of what makes us who we are.
i.
C uz 5th
grade mattered most to me,
o
utwardly became a host to free the
l
aughter and love for creativity, the
l
earning and finding serenity with
e
agerness to write through complexity,
e
levating wisdom through inquiry and a
n eed
to write the word and the world.
F
inster’s class was a carnival of knowing,
a sking
youth to argue and continue growing,
l
etting our minds imagine galaxies, all that glowing,
l acing
possibilities with language, modeling and showing
o h, the places we could go,
ya know? We
n eed
leadership to show us the way. So, 5th grade…Hooray!
ii.
All of
us do it, really, for the Joshua’s,
l
essons taught that can’t be planned, and
l ife
epiphanies too grand for state assessments and voyeurism.
i can
be me, because of who we are together.
s
isters, brothers, siblings, mothers, fathers, teachers, a feather in the
o
verature, ovations, symphonies, conversations.
n elson
Mandela was right to call for Ubuntu.
T his
road stops, but this path opens.
a
return. A departure. A circle. A line.
f
inding a way for student voices to shine –
t he
village is required, indeed.
iii.
E ach
of us needs a bow tie, a
d esire
to ask how, what, when, where and why.
F
leeing allegorical caves to eternally fly, to prove
i f
we’re right (or more than likely wrong),
a rm
wrestling with Aristotle to be ethically strong,
n
udging Nietsche and humming along to the woulda,
s
houlda, coulda punk music scrambled like eggs in our heads.
iv.
D own with the king for years,
a bout ten of ‘em, recruiting suckers, Mac
and Mike, and making men of ‘em. Throwing
v erse
like Green Eggs and Ham, poetically rehearse like Sam I am &
e
clipse the sun, I am that man,
W
illingly cursed, linguistic spam, grabbing the mic
o h,
this writing jam, our election year, now that’s a scam,
o nward
we fight, we is the exam
l oving
this work ain’t an epigram, because
e ach
of us teach, POW! ZIP! ZAP! WHAM!
y es we
got game, our pedagogical slam!
v.
G od
needs to do something about the DMV,
r each
into his crockpot of chaos, you see, and
e
ventually do something about the lines, the attitudes.
t his
is the human condition summed up by an institution.
c
hurches, districts, governments, nations,
h ell
needs no explanation when registrations are due,
e
veryone understands bureaucracies make us blue.
n ext.
Next. #94. #94. What are you here for? a licensed renewed?
M en
and women, such brutal beasts with political feasts of
a
ccountants, lawyers, surgeons, and morticians, at least
t he
taxes are put to good use. Abuse? Um, sir,
h ow
can you charge me when I don’t even live there anymore?
e ven
when I’m free (born in chains) I implore you hear me out.
w
henever I’m in a thunderstorm, hurricane and/or the rain, the
s un
eventually returns to explain, as Marley does, every little thing is going to be alright.
vi.
K: If I be waspish, best beware my sting
a nd P: My remedy is then, to pluck it out. Her
r
esponse?: Ay, if the fool could find it
where it lies (and
a ll our yesterdays have lighted fools the way
to dusty death). Whoops. Wrong Play.
P
etruchio tries: Who knows not where a
wasp does wear his sting?
e xeunt
(no not yet): In his (ring ring ring,
hello)
t ounge. Who’s tongue? (not King Lear’s fool)
e lloquentia
perfecta. drool. Yours, if you talk of
tails. School.
r ight.
Iambic pentameters are cruel…
s hakespeare’s
language, feminist, so (very hot) cool!
vii.
A udentis fortuna iuvat, wrote Virgil,
fortune favors the brave,
l and
of the free for Kek is gaining wisdom about liberty,
l earning
the best interest of students, says Gallagher,
i s
teaching to read like writers and to write like readers,
s o
they’re prepared for college and the workplace.
o h,
you know, The National Writing Project thing, is
n othing
else but a pro-learning thing.
A trox melior dulcissima veritas mendacis,
the bitter truth is
n
othing compared to the sweetest lies. Of all the
t hings
that impressed Kek, “tribes from all
o ver
the world” were most amazing. In a tree, stargazing,
n ot
wanting to return home, cow grazing in a field.
n osce te Ipsum. Know thyself,
u ntil
there’s nothing else to be known.
c
overing as much material as possible (Gallagher again) is
c ause
for the surest way to extinguish curiosity.
i
believe all of us are working against this.
viii.
K nock
knock. Who’s there?
a
venue. Avenue who? Avenue knocked at
t his
door before? Knock Knock. Who’s there?
I ce
cream. Ice cream who? Ice cream right now if you don’t let me in (&
e ventually,
determined, I know I will win when I find my way inside.
Z any
jokes? Knock knock? Whose there? Butter. Butter who? Butter bring an
u
mbrella, because it looks like rain outside!
r
eally, Crandall. Knock Knock jokes. Whose there?
l ettuce.
Lettuce who? Let us out of this room. It’s cold in here.
o h,
Bryan just turned on the air conditioner once again.
ix.
J ust
when the truth revealed itself from the
e
lephants in the room, we made the choice of door #2, a
n ew
car? No. A kaboom! with pink Big Brothers
n ext
to a pen of walking pigs, what a zoo,
i
ntellectually, how do we know what’s true, while
e
xiting from the shackles they create in caves. The
C
ackles of ugly sisters, they rave, haggle us with
o ur
hubris, bliss depraved, as brought to us by NBC. We
x ist,
exact, and extract everything we see (but is any of it reality?)
x.
B een
trying to bend it like Beckam since I was born,
e
levating my athletic game, but somewhat
t orn
by the nincompoop tendencies of my play.
h ey,
Dad. Catch. A football, until the hospital has its say, and there I
L ay
(or is it lie) in a bed with a pinky to the side -
a nd I
can’t hide because it’s broken, a token of the
m anic
way I approach sports (my every day), well intended,
b ut on
display (oh, shit. I think I’ve lost again) trying to find my way.
e h,
um, err, well, eek. I’m not the only one…in
r
eality that Howard guy didn’t have any fun (and
t hat
is the truth behind why she drank the whisky).
xi.
B oy,
my Spanish is rusty…if non existent…
e stos es la vida, pensar en nada en la
presencia de gente que nos gusta (when
a ll I
am thinking about is everything in
t he
presence of beautiful people. Las
personas hermosas son
r aras, no se distinguen por la cara, sino por
el alma.
i can
be wonderful, too, with all of us (that’s you…and I owe a
z
illion thank-yous to the stars.
M an,
even my English fails me at times (even as
i
attempt some rhymes across the page.
c asualidad destino no se pero te
c onoci por algo…
i know
there’s reasons…there always are.
c rea las mas alta y mas grandiose vision
possible tu vida --
h eck,
even Oprah knows Spanish, it’s her quote! porque
te conviertes
e n lo que crees. I think we’re all
something amazing.
xii.
C olonialization
requires the demonization of culture…an
a nnihalation
of tradition, a destruction & mental inhibition where one
r eality
is right, and even if one puts up a fight, the other is made wrong --
even if
strong, history is only partially told. “On earth,” writes
e mmanuel
Jal, “The worst people are not only those who commit evil”
n o. It
is “those who stand by and turn a blind eye.” In Sudan, how many have
D ied
and why do so many of us not ask why? How many more will
e
ventually try to find a way out of
r efugee
camps to fly with an opportunity of hope.
I t’s
the proverb again and again, “Until the lion learns to write, the
s tory
will glorify the hunter.” At the core of what’s common & standard an
e cho
of injustice, injury, and suffering. That’s the immigrant story.
xiii.
L
anguage is a hymnal, the obvious entwined in subliminal confusion, mixed with
an
i
ntellectual confessional twisted amongst the carnival, and spiritual,
z
inging hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…
z est
is the secret of all beauty…(and
I can
hear their chorus sing, “When Israel was in
e
gypt’s land, let my people go. Oppressed so hard they could not stand.
L et my
people go. Go down, Moses, Way down in
e
gypt’s land: Tell old Pharaoh, Let my people go.”
w e all
know, and our performance is to show, that
i
nvestment in them….to see them grow is what we’re all trying to
s ing
(his eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watched). Grace is what we bring.
xiv.
C
onstitutionally, I’m unconstitutional,
a nd
unconditionally nonconforming
t o the
conversational hypothetical (somewhat
h
ysterical, but oddly congregational)
y ou
get the point, I’m patriotic and pathological.
S
ociologically I become historical through the
c
acophony of the allegorical, but this may only be
h
ypothetical because my understanding of history is questionable
a nd
sometimes it’s unethical with the detestable ways humans are un-
g
overnable (especially in years where candidates, unpresidential, are
e
xistentially, incorrigible and impossible). This is just to say,
r
eally, these weeks have been irreplaceable.
xv.
A nd
there was a day in a library where he began to share his story. he and his
b
rother with scars. those wars. I went to the Liberian to check out a book…
u
nusual look she gave with curiosity. Are
you a big brother or something?
B ooks.
Those looks make less sense now that I know more. No,
i am not their manager and they’re not in a
boy band, either. I’m just here to
l end a hand with this American thing. What? What do they bring? An
i nteresting thing. They bring absolutely everything.
t hey help me to sing and to cling to what
matters most.
y outh. hope. laughter. And history. Love. Shadow.
Ghost.
xvi.
L
aughter. In the end, isn’t it humor that we’re after?
o h,
here’s one for you. What’s orange and
s ounds like a parrot? Um. Duh. A carrot.
s o,
what kind of teacher passes gas? Oh,
i give up. A Toot-er. Knock knock, Who’s
there?
n eedle. Needle who? Needle washcloth to wipe up your drool?
e very
Captain Stick ‘em needs a sidekick, Splash, you fool.
B ut
strawberry air-freshener is never cool.
i got
another for you. What did the alien say
to the book?
l a la
la la la la la. Ready? Take me to your
reader. Here’s an
i
mportant one. Knock Knock. Whose There?
turnip.
Turnip who? Turnip the volume. This
is my favorite song and
y ou,
me, him will always sing along, forever 15.
xvii.
J uly and August. The Cicadas.
u biquity and ominiscience. The five week dance of
notebooks,
l iving and reading and breathing and writing and reflecting
and sharing and
i nvesting in one another; an act of inquiry
e volves into discovery only to be
R epeated again. Them. Those kids (those adults)
o ur double-sided minds sculpted around bureaucratic
n onsense (their policies do little to raise student
voices)…the
e gotistical always stand in the way with all the ridiculous
they have to
s ay (doubt they listened to NPR any time today).
o h, it’s August 4th and the Cicadas are singing
forth, but
n ow…now we have each other.
B y this time
e very year, it comes – this disappearance as soon as it
arrived,
c aught in traffic on I-95, the artery finally clears
a nd suddenly
we’re free to drive away.
u buntu. a voice singular becoming unified in a chorus,
s ymphony, cacophony, and harmony of
e verything evolving together.
epilogue.
W e. Us.
e veryone, on the same page, but writing a different story.
M agic-making, discovering, summer therapy, recovering
a ll that made us want to teach
t o reach one another, a sister, a brother,
t o united and to
belong,
e nlightenment from a summer sing-a-long, we are
r eady, and we are strong for whatever the next chapter
brings.
