I never really did get taught how to teach, per se, from Robin or the course I took with him. But now realize that there was no one formula to it. It's more an experience and individual to each person. But I did learn what makes a good teacher. And I could feel that some of those qualities were already in me. I just needed to develop them further, make use of them more consciously, and get into the habit of using them in the most productive and beneficial way for both me and my students.
I knew I needed to be creative, and engage the students, especially when trying to teach something like poetry. I would bring in items, therefore, that I thought would spur on ideas, spark their interests, get their minds and imaginations soaring and
make them see the world, their everyday world, in a different but meaningful way.
I used objects that were easily decipherable as well as those that were obscure and unknown to them. And the kids had to make up their own minds about how to describe these objects. I brought in bubbles, and items that had various scents, as well as textured objects so that the kids could get into the habit of using as many senses as possible to describe things around them. We made silly sentences focusing on alliteration, we read poems that were serious, funny, short, rhyming, repetitive, deep, light hearted, and we explored poetic devices like rhyme or rhythm and similes. Sometimes, the kids and I just had conversations that I began through reading a portion of a book or showing them a painting or a print or a photograph. And what came out of those discussions was transformed into poetry.
Other times, the kids would be playing a game outside, and I would ask them questions about the game, and either myself or the student would write down all their thoughts. And we would look at how we could collect the words or phrases and create a poem out of them.
One day, I even brought in CD's, and got the kids to listen to various types of music, without lyrics. They were to jot down the images that the music evoked, after we talked about how to let their minds flow and create pictures on the page from what they heard.
Some of these poems were turned into shape poems, others were in free verse form. The poems took on various lengths, styles and ideas.
It was amazing that even though I already had faith in these children's abilities to dream and be creative, they often surpassed my expectations with the way they interpreted certain images or concepts. Their fresh insights and unique way of looking at life and their surroundings taught me something new each time I went into that classroom.
And soon, I could once again see why Wordsworth chose to describe "the Child" as "the greatest philosopher".
These children I worked with were only ten, yet they were definitely philosophical in their thinking, even in the simplest of thoughts. It was so great to see these students open up about their lives, and represent a whole range of emotions and interests, backgrounds and voices.
As one child explained in her interpretation of Shel Silverstein's poem: "We may not know the things that adults know, but children are important too. We have our own games, imagination and feelings that some people forget." And her words became the introduction to the booklet that was created with that class.
Somehow, with just my old little laptop, a slow and small portable printer, and days of typing and editing with the kids, I was able to produce 32 bound books, made of 35 pages each, with a plastic front cover and introduction and conclusion page. A copy was also made for Robin, myself and the other teachers.
I still don't quite remember or know how I afforded it- as far as time and money goes. I think that because I couldn't get it all done professionally, I might have actually punched the holes in each book and all the pages myself, and then used a binding machine to bind each book individually.
I seem to remember organizing the pages across my bed and dorm room floor, over a few nights, trying to sort out which page went where, and making sure I had them all in the right order and ready to go.
It must have taken me hours, but that's not what I remember. What I remember is that the kids were esctatic when they got their books. Their little faces lit up as they flipped through the pages trying to find the page that housed their poem and their name.I started realizing that it was their energy, their ideas, and their enthusiasm which sparked my own. And maybe it was the kids themselves who inadvertantently helped me become a better 'teacher'. I hadn't been taught how to teach, but I was learning how to appreciate a child's perspective, how to think like children do- simple, clear, imaginative. And I think they were confirming the child in me that Lancaster, Anita and Wordsworth had brought out in me as well
Roxy had said to me a few times that she didn't want me to go back to Vancouver. And as the days were drawing nearer, I think she actually asked me one day to stay, "just a few days longer. Please. We have a surprise for you," she said, trying not to give too much away.Besides, everyone else in the classes at the university would be heading back home and I couldn't stay any longer in the room I had been renting.
"I'm sorry," I tried to explain to Roxy, "but Canada is my home and I need to head back."
But as the days passed, and I was trying to get my other assignments done, something about the school, or a line from a student's poem, or the thoughts in the letter Roxy had given me kept popping up in my mind.
"Can I help you?" asked the woman at the desk.
"No thank you, I'm just looking through the brochures," was what I wanted to say.
But instead, I asked, "I have a ticket home to Vancouver, but I'm wondering how much it would cost to extend my trip here a few extra days."The next thing I knew, I had changed my ticket. I paused for a second before walking out of the agency. What had I done? I mean, I didn't even know if Roxy had meant it when she said she wanted me to stay. She's ten, I thought. Why was I listening to a ten year old? Kids change their minds all the time. Just a few months ago, she didn't even want me to be around.
And where would I stay? How would I explain this to people at home?
Later that day, I went to say bye to one of my friends I had met in Lancaster- Amy. Amy was from England herself but was only studying at the University and was going to be heading back home soon herself. Her and I didn't spend a lot of time together while I was there, but each time we did meet up, we would share our stories from the week's events. When I got to her dorm room, her friend Par was over
as well.
as well."So you're staying in town a little longer?" Amy asked, "That's great."
"Yeah, but I don't know what I was thinking. Where would I sleep and what am I going to do?"
"How long are you staying?" asked Par.
"Just a few extra days," I said.
"Well, I'm going to be sticking around here for a bit myself to do some work in Lancaster. So, you're welcome to stay at my place, if you don't mind sleeping on the floor."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah, sure. Not a problem," said Par. "I'm going to be in and out of there anyway myself so it's no bother to me."
So... I stayed.
And when I went back to the school to visit the kids, they had a big farewell
party for me. There was a cake that said, "We'll miss you, Taz!" on it in green icing. And I think there were some other snacks and pop there eas well. The kids handed me cards they had made for me- some had poems in them, some said thank you all over the card, and others were full of sweet messsages with drawings accompanying the words. One particularly huge card came from a small group of girls- one of whom included Roxy
To this day, I don't know who organized all of it. I don't know if Roxy got the kids together and convinced the teachers to have the party, or maybe the teachers decided to do something for me so that the kids could say goodbye. But who made the cake? A parent or...? And where did they find the time to make all these extra little gifts and momentos for me?
I felt so lucky to have been given the chance to spend an extra day with the kids, not teaching them or frantically finishing off an assignmnet, but just running around on the playgground with them, and watching them kick around soccer balls and laugh. All of them took out their poetry books and held them up to the camera when I took photos of them. They looked so proud to show off their work.I was so touched. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.
Those photos and my copy of our Phreedom Of Expressin' the Real You! ©Tasleem
book is tucked safely in the trunk at the foot of my bed. I have kept it all these years, and hope to continue to hang on to it for as long as I can. I also still have all the photos from that day, at the school. There are a couple of shots in particular of Roxy and I, standing together, smiling, with the greenery of Lancaster behind us.
It's funny how Roxy eventually ended up being the person who, in asking me to stay just a little longer in Lancaster, made me feel like I belonged there, like I was welcomed there. She gave me the opportunity to feel and experience the power of the child's mind, these remarkable little people who I was blessed to be around for a short while.Through my time at the school, I learned to trust in Roxy's words, and follow my heart, just as Roxy and the other children had done in trusting me to be their teacher, in trusting me to bring out the little poets in them.
"For the children they mark, and the children they know, the place where the sidewalk ends."- Shel Silverstein
