Our Story

Last term, I gave my form three's a spoken word assignment: have a go at writing a performance poem and share it with us. In a moment of foolish courage I told them I would also write one and share it with them. I should do this more often: it was hard! The following poem is what I came up with and shared with them. Entering into the fear of sharing personal writing outloud with a group of teenagers was a good exercise and made me even more proud of each of them.

A week ago, I returned to the place that certified me to teach and that introduced me to some of the people who have contributed to the teacher I have become and am becoming. As this trip back to the beginning has forced me to reflect on where I've come, this poem has become more and more important to me, one that sums up my current philosophy of education more succinctly than the paper I wrote in Educ 398 ever did, and I've been reminded of how much I owe to people in my past and present. I cannot name and speak adequately to them all here - perhaps that will be a future post, but, after a wonderful coffee with one of my student teaching advisors and Eng 101 professor, I remembered, yet again, another professor who I am not able to catch up over coffee with, and whom I owe so much. Mr Bill Vande Kopple taught me so much about teaching and English, but the most important and most enduring lesson he taught me was to love students: to believe in them, to try to see their world through their eyes, to be on their side. I could never put words to what this lesson means to me.

I am deeply sad that he is no longer here. I wish I could have had coffee with him this week and told him about my students and the teacher I am today, about this journey that I am on that is so exciting and terrifying, breath-taking and beautiful. And how integral of a part he played in it.

Our Story

Did you know that

when you step through that door

Timid and shy

Trying to sink into the floor that stubbornly refused to open

To creep under your invisibility cloak that's run out of battery

or bold and dubious

Ready to do battle, armour on,

Your arsenal of eye rolling and stubborn silences at the ready

Wide-eyed and

wary of all things new and adult... like me

When you stepped in

You stepped into my story.

And I stepped into yours.

(Don't look at me like that - I can't help it

I didn't ask for you to be here

Blame Miss Grinley.)

but here you are

and here I am.

I'm in your story and you're in mine.

It's a story of drama:

Of prefects who give 5 page essays

on the gravitational pull of the earth

in French

due

oh shoot, yesterday!

Of little brothers who jump up and down

on your head

in the middle of the night,

Of friends who oh my word did you hear what she said to her when she was in the bathroom about what she said last week on the way to talk to her?

It's a story of romance:

Of boys with beautiful smiles

Of heaven on earth crushes

and end of the world break ups

It's a story of horror:

Of mishaps in Chemistry

and mouths hit by hockey balls full of blood

Of dragon teachers

with voices and mannerisms you can imitate like hollywood pros

A story full of comedy:

Suck your cheeks in and try not to laugh comedy

Sit down and cry comedy

Of lunch spilt on laps

And embarrassing moments in bathrooms.

...

My story has drama too:

"Wait, what period is this?"

and, "She said what about my teaching?"

And comedy:

"Miss Bell, you already did this lesson."

and "Oh shoot, this is not my classroom... these are not my students!"

And even a little horror sometimes:

"I gave them how much homework?"

"You want me to teach where?"

And maybe a little romance...

okay, there's no romance.

Multiple plot threads

genres

characters

all pulled through that door

when you walked in.

How will we ever find a structure?!

I think

Together

if you come out from under your invisibility cloak

and put down your weapons

If I let go of my need to structure

stories and life

I think

I hope

I dream

we can write a beautiful story

here

We can weave a tale so beautiful and glorious

that no one out there will believe that it happened.

A story where we create a new place

A place that is safe enough to make

mistakes

friends,

safe enough to love

yourself

beauty

A place where brave heroines fight bullies

and bullies dissolve into... ordinary kids

where secret dreams can be let out

dancing across the room like butterflies

and kept, safe, in gently cupped hands

where we can learn what it means to be

ourselves

each other

someone else

where women win epic battles with powerful words

that heal

where the dragon can be slain with a rolling laugh

and magic wands turn tears into diamonds that we wear with pride on our necks and fingers

like badges of great honour

where you can speak up and be silent

when you want

where the layers can be shed

and you can be Anyone

or just you

For a brief 40 minutes

For 40 minutes

we can dream another world

Together

Because you stepped through that door.

February, 2015