FOOL THAT I AM

for alice walker & mrs. dickeren's class

...not far from where he stood there existed still, it seemed to him, at least the shadows of his first life. he was on his third or fourth...final...gradually the lines had come, the perplexed lines between the eyes, placed as if against & in spite of the young, smooth & carefree brow...
--alice walker

somehow, i kept their 12 & 13 year old attention spans. sometimes they got it, or wanted to look like they did, but mostly there were several starts & stops

but i kept them focused, somehow. the laughs of 27 faces upon me, & for a few minutes we were all right there...

"writing = liberation"

i had written on the dry erase board, still hearing the screech of chalk across the old school slate wall as i then wrote

"silence = death"

they wanted to know, but more importantly, i needed to know what they knew. mostly to have something else, finally, to make the connection to.

they guessed my age in a contest that questioned their 6th & 7th grade perceptions of being pooor; their favorite places outside of chicago visited & imagined. just five questions total & i learned in 2, 40-minute class blocks that the youth are listening

...& they want to know that we're listening, too...

so they ask about hurricanes, express their desire to go to college, their fear of leaving their neighborhoods & they dance down hallways, run one another into lockers for laughs, still think wearing uniforms is "lame" & several are reading & writing at or below grade level(s)

today, i learned that we can all fly & out of the mouths & faces of 27 faces & 54-plus traces of kin

i yearned to be in their places
but i am so glad that i am where i am
today

simply because...