Educator Note:

Lisa Mueller and Alyssa Williams

Maya Angelou Academy, Washington D.C.

As a first year teacher, the idea of teaching a poetry unit was a bit daunting, but I had my trusty co-teacher, Ms. Williams, by my side, and a whole bunch of ambition and naivete. The objective: scholars will compose a poem for submission to Young Radish, exploring the theme of joy.  

The most challenging part of this project was getting the scholars to drill into a personal moment of actual joy, however fleeting. Living in a secure facility, the scholars are a long way removed from most opportunities for happiness. There is very little movement outside of their individual housing units, especially during the pandemic, and limited recreation. Heading into the holiday season as a child, while being physically away from your family, is an especially unfathomable scenario to most. 

Ms. Williams and I opened the unit exploring the power of word choice. We had a lot of fun with our scholars providing examples and discussing slang words, their meanings and why someone chooses to use them.  We moved into a blackout poetry project, to explore hands-on how words have their own power and can speak to the reader.  This activity was really like writing a poem in reverse; instead of thinking of a theme/memory/emotion and finding the words to express it, each scholar found “interesting” words on a piece of paper from my scrap paper pile.  We would think about what those words together could express only after finding them. 

This pile featured such diverse reads as other scholars’ creative writing. samples, photocopies of novel excerpts, and our “Computer Safety Agreement.”  After doing the assignment at home first, I was delighted with my own result: a page from a courtroom scene in Ernest Gaines’ A Lesson Before Dying became a short poem about a small child’s excitement, in which his caretakers are too involved in their adult conversation to join in his fun. 

We moved into analyzing poetry.  Gwendolyn Brooks’ short and snappy “We Real Cool” had us examining rhythm and the form of a verse. Claude McKay’s “The Harlem Dancer” gave students the opportunity to practice comprehending challenging texts, and also to use their knowledge of figurative language to explore McKay’s heavy use of personification, metaphors and similes.  That the poem describes a young woman dancing for a crowd of young people, including sex workers, added extra entertainment, especially for our wholly immature 9th graders. Tupac’s “Dear Mama” showed us examples of powerful and detailed imagery, such as “huggin’ on my mama from my jail cell” and “coming home after work late. You're in the kitchen, trying to fix us a hot plate.”

As the students analyzed and comprehended the poems and their themes, line by line as a class, they became more confident.  The final minutes ticked by in one class and we pressed the boys to pull a theme out of the poem. One scholar proudly shouted “Wait, I think I’ve got something!” and we all watched the wheels turn as he pieced the discussion together and led the class to one theme of the poem.

The other challenge was getting the scholars to confidently approach a new writing style.  We fielded many, many comments about how useless and stupid poetry was, and lots of eyerolling.  We decided to spark the writing process with a technique that was successful with their past narrative writing: mindmaps.  The scholars would often put an idea/person/place in the center of a mind map to which they were not wholly committed. They would stare blankly as Ms. Williams and I threw out suggestions and usually picked one just to move on, with limited interest.  However, as we led them through the process they begin to think more deeply about the subject and create more detailed and thoughtful writing.

One of our youngest scholars, a boy new to class, struggled with finding a moment to write about, but as we pushed him to think back to a time he felt truly happy, he expressed the same sentiment as many of the scholars: “I don’t know.”  As he half-heartedly attempted to write for his chosen moment, one so inauthentic I can’t even remember it, he suddenly had a light bulb moment. “Wait, forget this one—I know what I’m going to write about—the time I lived in [DC suburb]! I need to start a new mind map!”  Until that moment, I had been writing this scholar’s ideas for him, in an effort to get him to simply participate, but now my transcribing was necessary to keep up with the speed of his ideas!  The imagery and emotion spewed forth in his words so rapidly I could barely get them down on paper.  When I prompted him to consider figurative language, he and his cousins instantly became ninjas at grandma’s, jumping all over the house and roaming the neighborhood to play ball.

By now we had assigned multiple journal writing prompts to facilitate drawing out a joyful memory, and we had the mind maps too.  Scholars also possessed new knowledge of poetic writing devices, and had studied lots of poems, so it was finally time to compose.  Well, the first two classes’ attempts were decidedly unsuccessful, and devolved into unproductive and chaotic sessions, testing our classroom management skills (we did not pass the test).  We decided on a whim during lunch to photocopy and cut out the lines of writing that the scholars had from their mind maps and journaling.  Now in our next classes, as the scholars continued to complain that they had no idea how to write a poem, we presented the envelopes full of their lines. 

The process continued uphill, and we worked with scholars individually to sort their piles of lines, choosing the best writing or most poignant imagery to include in the final poem.  They arranged the paper strips in an order that made sense, then worked to revise individual lines for crisper, clearer imagery.   Words and lines were added and removed until the scholar felt their poem successfully emoted joy.  Scholars read aloud the lines and adjusted punctuation to improve the final rhythm.

As the scholars watched their scattered lines cohere into a complete poem,  the sense of accomplishment, and also relief at having finished the assignment, was visible on their faces.  As myself or Ms. Williams asked each scholar, “Is this it? Is this the final poem?”  they would nod, and then teacher and scholar would dap each other up heartily, sometimes grinning. 

The weight of a holiday season in a secure facility is omnipresent and also invisible.  During the weeks before Thanksgiving, up until winter break, the constant awareness of the season, and how it resonates with our scholars, pressed harder, and then sharper on me. There were a lot of days I felt that weight without consciously understanding its root.  One can argue, in America, we’ve lost track of a lot of priorities, like the significance of the holidays being about family and love, not presents; or the extra compassion and resources that we need to spend on the youngest community members who have been failed by adults and society. This Christmas, my most significant gift was this collection of poetry from the Youth Services Center in our nation’s capital.  

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Lisa Mueller is a first year English teacher at the Maya Angelou Academy at the Youth Services Center in Washington D.C.  She is a native Washingtonian grateful for the opportunity to share her love of language and communication with youth facing hardship.  

Alyssa Williams is a special education and English co-teacher from PG County, also grateful to be able to serve her community.  Her unending positivity, patience and enthusiasm shine in every classroom she enters.