You could say this poem is a continuation of my reflections for the Slice of Life challenge about the need for a strong, steady chocolate stash in a school. I stand by what I wrote, even if my observations this week speak to the contrary.
Clearly there is a problem in our world: there is some kind of imbalance within our universe that is causing it to behave badly (like a puppy in a roomful of long-laced shoes or a nub stuck all the way in a pencil sharpener so that things get to a point but not really)
because
how on earth is it that the natural order of things has gotten so upside-down
that one can go into the copy room look at the dregs of the chocolate stash, at the poor unfortunate souls left behind from The Great Choosing and find… THIS!?
Since when are SNICKERS considered the most inferior of the chocolate world? I may have to rethink my life.
Each Sunday, I’m working my way through my experiences with race. I’ll share stories and memories from throughout my life. I know I’ll encounter moments of growth that I wish I could relive. I’ll also have to think back on choices that I wish I could remake. Given that April is also poetry month, I’m also stacking that challenge right on top. As I often say when beginning anything tricky or ambitious, “We’ll see what happens.”
Pump primed, slate cleaned My education could begin:
My first introduction was CHIEF That proud symbol of school pride And heritage That everyone has to have On the sweatshirts we buy And maybe this is weird while I’m asking But if he’s so dignified What’s with the war paint And whooping and hollering And the Boy Scout Manual dance And tomahawk chops And the clapping along to “This is the Indian’s song?” Eh. I could take him or leave him.
On campus I learned the other-ness of being a Jew: I quickly developed a sixth sense for detecting evangelical swagger. The “I-care-about-you’s” and the “Jesus-will-save-you’s” and the “Do-you-do-any-reading-of-the-Word’s” all had a certain look to them (just as they recognized the curly hair, the Semitic complexion, the tell-tale nose). It’s why Hillel became my place, where Yiddish was a form of currency, Jewish geography threading a familiar, comfortable cloth. I was among people who GOT me without introduction or explanation or apology.
But just as I needed the like-me, I needed the not-like-me Anyone who would allow me to join:
The Zeta house, where my sisters Were Christian And Jewish And Muslim And Buddhist And every color And our national organization called us “The United Nations Chapter” except, I think, they didn’t mean it so kindly, which is partly why I don’t donate to them now, but I digress
The Asian-American Association At the house on campus And their meetings, Vibrant and inspired and contentious And wow are there layers Upon layers
Salongo At the res hall, Spades tourneys and movie nights and step shows And t-shirts emblazoned “It’s a Black thing, you wouldn’t understand” but I saw a shirt that read you MUST understand – shouldn’t we say that? There are things you must understand. And…there are things you can’t. Let it not stop you from learning or doing.
The last days have felt like my shoes were on the wrong feet, like the stuck wheel on a shopping cart or the rattle at the front end of the car that has to mean something, if I could figure out what
I can’t for the life of me understand why words won’t come, why they feel so heavy and slow, why they sink beyond my grasp why I resist taking the time to sit in my own self to figure out why
And then I check the calendar: tomorrow Jess would have been twenty
And I know I’ll have to write of her tomorrow
And I know tomorrow I will stop sit sink
And I know my entire self will brace against the pain against the keen muscle memory of grief my breath will catch to feel it sharp, sharper without knowing how or when or if it may subside.
Today marks the final day of the Slice of Life challenge. I’ve deeply enjoyed the challenge of writing every day this month. I’ve grown as a writer and as a human in ways I’ll still be thinking about for weeks to come.
I tried to capture how I’m feeling on the last day of this challenge. I know it’s the end, but I don’t want to treat it as an end. I’d like to see it as the universe’s nudge to get me to start writing more often. So I thought I’d put this reverso poem out there. It’s meant to be read aloud from top to bottom, and then again from bottom to top.
I’ll also say this. This poem is a living reminder that I don’t always have to love my work. I will confess that I don’t 100% love this poem, and I’m not fully satisfied. But if I’ve learned anything about writing or myself in this past month, it’s that sometimes that happens. Sometimes I just don’t have adequate words to articulate my thoughts.
It’s still important to write them anyway.
A beginning Ripe for Energy, optimism New and delightful things To see Wait around the corner I can always hope Gathering close To hold Head-full, heart-full learnings Reflection, wisdom Brings me to An end
Today marks Day 30 of the Slice of Life challenge. Join me as I work to write every day in March – and beyond!
For T. You inspire me.
In the middle of a highly scheduled day
In the middle of a hard-fought moment of plan time
In the middle of a to-do list that has grown up to my eyeballs
In the middle of my anxiety about how I’m going to get it all done
In the middle of a technology outage
In the middle of wondering how on earth I will move forward NOW –
There is a note,
An email from a student,
A deeply felt, heart-heavy piece.
It stops me.
It takes me by the shoulders and says look, Look At this Look at what I have given this world Listen to me For I give voice to Those things Which clamor for surface, For air For breath Despite our efforts to push down, Turn away, Ignore
It says I will not be ignored Or turned away Or pushed down I am your inner voice
And will I speak of light And dark And love And conflict And rising to the surface And plunging down again
So speak to me I am always there Whether you hear me Or not
Call me from the shadows Beckon me from darkness And I will learn to spread light.
Today marks Day 29 of the Slice of Life challenge. Join me as I work to write every day in March – and beyond!
Today. *
Today I blogged.
And before that I cobbled together my bananapants schedule for tomorrow: lesson to lesson, meeting to meeting.
And before that I thought through my lesson I’ll be sharing with kids on mentally preparing for standardized testing. While we’re on the subject, I’m not a fan at ALL of teaching kids to a test. If kids have skills, they have skills. But. Anything we can do to give our loveys a sense of control over their testing environment? Anything that will allow the kids to see how they can keep their wits about them in an anxiety-rich situation? I’m all in favor of THAT. This lesson is a follow-up to one I taught earlier about strategies for keeping cool in stressful times.
One more tool we have for keeping our wits about us!
And before that I checked in with a former student of mine, who’s brimming with rich fantasy worlds she wants to create through graphic novels.
And before that I got to work car line again for the first time in almost a month. I missed those faces!
And before that I shared Leo Lionn’s Frederick with my third graders. I opened up the Zoom chat to everyone in the group. Sometimes that goes haywire. Today it didn’t. They shared such insightful comments and ideas, like – “Frederick was misunderstood.” Yes, yes he WAS misunderstood. And now let’s talk about what it means to be UNDERESTIMATED. (We’ll be going places with that one, friends.)
And before that I assembled as many materials and activities for the self-guided learning my groups will do over the coming weeks. I. Am. Far. From. Done.
And before that I choked down my lunch standing at my kitchen counter with my puppy at my heels because SOMEONE had to let her out mid-day, and that somebody turned out to be me.
I think she likes me…
And before that I cranked my way through morning classes, eager to see students after a week, and trying my best to play whack-a-mole with student attendance, through patchy internet, through sound problems, and all those wonderful things we got to avoid in our week off.
And before that I recorded my weekly pep talk for my kids. I’ve been taking the kids through brief (2-minute) lessons about what it means to be smart, about what that means for the way we see ourselves and others. Today’s pep talk was about explanatory style, and how that feeds into our feelings.
Because we deserve to understand the way we think and feel and move about this world.
And before that I executed my morning routine with the customary military logistics a school day requires: waking, showering, letting dogs out, feeding dogs, making chai, smooching the spouse goodbye, praying the 17-year-old is up, grabbing my stuff and heading out to school.
And before that I felt my alarm buzzing on my wrist mid-dream, wondering why I was being woken at 5:45 when, in fact, it was 6:30…
*Special thanks to Vivian Chen and Fran McVeigh, who first gave me the inspiration to use this form. Visit them. Theirs, I assure you, are some amazing pieces of writing. =))
Each Sunday, I’m working my way through my experiences with race. I’ll share stories and memories from throughout my life. I know I’ll encounter moments of growth that I wish I could relive. I’ll also have to think back on choices that I wish I could remake. Come join me each week. It’s also day 28 of the Slice of Life challenge.
High school.
If you’ve ever worked with high school kids, you’d know that it’s a time of profound drama, often bordering on melodrama. The years are steeped in a quest for self and identity. To a high schooler, it feels isolating and alone – like no other could possibly understand what they are going through.
Adults in the lives of high schoolers know it’s something that EVERYONE goes through.
This is the quirk of high school. It’s also the charm, if you happen to like kids that age.
I was no different. My big quest for individuality had all the major pieces to it: tension with friends, a longing for any semblance of a dating life, pressure to succeed. I was discovering myself, mostly through writing, musical expression, and just plain being a floppy old goof.
And, like absolutely nobody and everybody, I saw college as a fresh start.
It was my time to consider and craft who I wanted to be in this world, and what I wanted to be for myself and for others.
That included my attitude and actions with regard to race. I was hot on the heels of discovering that injustice and inequality was still a problem despite my early learning to the contrary. My high school’s newspaper article on Black English seemed like such a small thing, but it sparked such intense controversy that I knew there had to be more. I just didn’t know what.
So, when I packed my bags for my time at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, I set my resolve to “unpack” my current belief system where it came to race and identity. I set out for school with the mission to better understand our world and the people in it.
I’m still not there. I think the “there” of understanding is a moving target, just like any ideal should be. But setting off to college with this intention held a key part in shaping who I am now.
I’ll dig in a little deeper next week. See you then.
Today marks Day 27 of the Slice of Life challenge. Join me as I work to write every day in March – and beyond!
There’s something to be said, she thought, as she leaned back in her chair, looked around at the too-small gathering and gulped that last bit of wine,
for the metaphor of Passover: a release from plague, a liberation, a freedom from bondage a rebirth, a journey that lasts far beyond anyone’s expectations:
the crossing through desert anxious, impatient, antsy the wandering, wondering without end insight save the occasional mirage –
Yes, she assured herself, as she signed off her Zoom connection, there has to be some parallel, if only I could think of what it was…
Soapbox: The Way I see Things 