Year of Writing 52. No child left behind.

2/22/12

Today was the elegy lesson in my creative writing class.  For the first day, I like to present two elegies from literature, and two from old students, my own for my grandmother, then allow students to brainstorm possibilities for writing their own.  In my second class, we began with a poem called "Bomb Crater Sky" by Lam Thi My Da, one of Vietnam's most famous writers.  This poem memorializes a young girl who sacrificed her life for the soldiers in her village, comparing her to a "sun-flooded sky."  One of my students read the final stanza, then moved to an empty table and took out a piece of paper. 

As we read the other poems, the student would stop writing on the sheet of paper to listen, then return as soon as we began discussing what the poets were doing in their elegies to honor the people who had passed.  I didn't think much of it, as I've run enough creative writing workshops to know not to interrupt the process once inspiration hits.  However once I had performed my poem for the class, and we were shifting into the brainstorming process I headed over to the table to check on that student.  He had 4 sheets filled with frenetic lines, his cheeks were wet with tears, the paper torn in places where the saline droplets had soaked through.  And he was still writing.  As the class ended, he was still writing.  Lunch was next, and I often have kids from this period who want to finish a project stay for awhile, so it wasn't strange to see him stay.  I went out to the cafeteria and brought him a lunch.  He never looked up from his stack of papers, the number of which I had lost track.  As it came time for the next class, I walked up to ask him what he wanted to do, at which point he held up a piece of folded paper.  It said:  "I need 2 Stay."

At this point it does not matter what class he had next period.  This kid was experiencing catharsis, so profound that he couldn't speak.  Of course he stayed. Through the entire period, and about 15 minutes after the last class.  When he felt finished, he gathered all his papers, folded them neatly, put them in his pocket and nodded to me.  Then he left, that was it.  I hope that whatever he put on those papers gave him what he needed.  I hope every kid finds that space when he needs it.