I am no stranger to the dread of poetry. When my students enter class and see “Poem of the Week” emblazoned on the warmup slide, the groans and sighs begin. “Poetry? I hate poetry!”
Many students fear and despise poetry because it makes them feel stupid. They imagine, or have been led to believe, that poetry is an elite and obscure code they will never crack. As their teacher, I want them to fall in love with poetry and praise all its capabilities. But first, we must dismantle the cloud of negative associations they bring into my classroom.
We begin with simple poems about everyday things — food, animals, weather. I use a consistent framework for analyzing poetry. We examine images, sounds, individual words, feelings, questions, and promises — including the promise made by the poem’s title. Each time they see “Poem of the Week” on the warmup slide, they also see the same directions for annotating the poem in their hand. We focus first on poets of the last 100 years: Langston Hughes, Kimiko Hahn, Seamus Heaney, Jane Kenyon. Through our analytical routine, we start to see poems as harmonious and evocative: a series of beautifully staged causes and effects.
Rigor governs our routine examination of poems. Our warmup analyses are a low-stakes way for students to recognize that poetry can be about anything — and build confidence in discussing poetic language. With the frequency of this activity, we allow skills to replace fears; we read the poem aloud so the language can come alive. Students become excited to see which texts will appear as Poems of the Week. They even volunteer suggestions for future classes.
After we analyze a half dozen poems, I invite students to write their own. They may write strict imitations or free-flying inspirations, as long as they can talk about their process. Some beginners quickly shed their insecurities and dive into the project while others hesitate. But eventually a poetry prompt will appeal to reticent students, and they will find the enthusiasm for poetry. The enthusiasm precedes the words, and it may be the easiest part of the poetic process.
When students begin to approach poems with confidence and interest, then it is time to explore what English is and what it has been. We spend a few days looking at the ancestors of Modern English and the many English dialects that exist today. When we make a place in the writing classroom for students’ home language, they can start to imagine themselves as writers. If a student finds a reason for writing, they will write: we know the feeling when a powerful exigence drives us to the pen or the keyboard.
In my teaching, I strive to show students that they can understand and produce poetry. Whether they take delight in poetry is up to them, but I like to think that many students have discovered a joy in poetry that they did not have before. I cannot make poetry easy, but I can make it accessible. I can hold the door open and allow students to walk through it.
With advanced poetic studies, we emphasize the power and purpose of the writing process. I take students through three stages of writing: discovery, drafting, and revision. We complete classroom tasks designed to emphasize the unique function of each stage. Revising poetry can be especially daunting as we scrutinize each element of the poem’s form and content and ask, “Is this working?” But with a structured approach, a poem can undergo momentous changes and take flight.
When I have worked with individual students on revising their poetry, I explain that we are looking for that moment when the poem leaps off the page. It becomes more than words on a screen. Sometimes we can release the poem with a few formatting tweaks; other times, we need to dramatically reshape the poem’s foundational metaphors. Either way, the poem’s state of completion is a gut thing: we know it when we see it. Or, I’ve made the best poem I can at this time. That moment yields a sigh of relief as we close the file or submit the work. We have to trust the words we’ve gathered and the energy we’ve invested.
Ultimately poetry in all of its iterations is a practice of joy. Teaching, reading, writing, and revising poetry helps us develop a powerful attention and self-reflection that lets us savor the intensity of our experiences. Even when we render a challenging life event in poetic terms, we can derive satisfaction from the poem working as we intended.
When our programs are cut or our courses are canceled, we face that nasty question, “Is poetry for everyone?” But for poets, and teachers of poetry, this is not a question. It is a truth that we apply each day, a truth that drives us to create new lessons, choose diverse poems, locate something for each student. Poetry is for everyone, and with the right approach, any student can find delight in its practice.
On the Blink 