I Remember Poem

I remember pheasants and camouflage.

I remember my uncle's long hair curling around a mischievous grin.

I remember my heart thump to the ground when I knew he was gone.

I remember listening to my father cry for the first and only time. I wasn't supposed to hear.

I remember praying to God and feeling comfort.

I remember my first encounter with death.


I remember poems are a fun way to dig into a specific memory. Students dig doing it too. It allows them to remember and freely write without feelings constraints as to "what a poem should look like."  If poems are supposed to look like anything.

It's my lunch break, my grades are due for the first quarter in just a few days, and I should be grading right now.  However, as I am grading my Creative Writing students' Poetry Portfolios, I am blown away by their writing.  It's genuine, and raw, and haunting.  I find myself scrawling on their papers, let's submit this for publishing.  I've told them about a yearly magazine that publishes student poetry, stories, art, etc.  They are all pumped about it, but it got me to thinking . . .

As a teacher shouldn't we practice what we preach?

I love to write. Though I don't seem to have time for it much lately, I do write with my students every day when they write.  It's the most relaxing part of my day.  However, if I tell my students they need advocate for themselves and work to find a broader audience for their work, I need to do the same.

I'm not submitting anything to Time and I won't be putting together a novel or collection of short stories, but I guess I will jump on the blogging bandwagon.  If my students are publishing, I ought to as well.