I've carried forward my Brown School tradition and, to meet a challenge of an educator who said that acrostics are horrible poems, I set out to demonstrate a way where they can be original and different.
I will have to come back and edit, because this is a very rough first draft, but I present the 2019 cohort of CWP in a poetic fashion. We had the largest crew to date and the most diverse, interesting, passionate and driven cohort yet. Our writing friends, Matt de la Peńa, Dr. Kelly Chandler Olcott, and Rose Brock were great companions for our goals, conversations, vision and good work.
Today is a day of reflection and we are exhausted. Happy to have a draft, at least, in the works.
Of Hope and Superpowers, Summer ’19
preface
T his is where it begins.
h ere. In a classroom with teachers
e volving with teachers,
S illy engaged creatures
u biquitously asking questions in
p ursuit of answers, until they
e ventually find solutions
r ight where they’ve always been.
p eople need people. Ubuntu.
o h, I can be me, but only through you and
w e, us, all of us together…
e very minute spend angry,
r eally, is 60 seconds we lose happiness (thanks Emerson)
O h, this is where it always begins. A
f irst stanza. Followed by another. Then another.
H ow quickly a summer goes.
o ne week. then two weeks, then three. The
p oint is, now each of us is free to
e volve independently and as community.
i.
D is/ability. A physical or mental condition that limits
e ach of us…our movements, our senses, our activities, our
n eed to feel human amongst others. I am capable.
i am hindered. I have dreams. I am trapped by chains. I
s eek a better world. I am locked in a cage.
e ventually, every body and mind must rage.
H umbled togetherness, I prefer that page,
o f each one of us helping gifted souls across the stage,
w here opportunities are constructed for each child, a sage,
e ncouragement the mantra, their achievements front-page.
ii
M iraculous things happen, histories,
i ntellectual mysteries where Jane Doe
c ascades into a universe (It should be re-
h earsed), and it’s all spontaneity from there —
a ll the beautiful, horrible, astonishing, hilarious truth
e volving into the tragedy of past, present and future - where
l aying a head on the marble lets you know she’s somewhere.
B efore you even know her kiss, or similar bliss, that’s the way we
e xist within the political cartoons of our mind,
l earning that to answer critical questions is how to find the
a nswers that baffle us the most: hatred, depression,
n arcissim (an honest confession) and love that
g rows out of the strangest corners of a text. everything evolves at
e xactly the right time…and for a stanza, at least, there’s always this
r hyme and a communal paradigm to promote with others.
iii.
T he art of flipping is a game of twisting, casting
a nd spinning exactly at the right time.
m e, Ms. This is who I am? Look at me. Look at me. Look
a t me! Ms, why are you looking at me? At us?
r eally, Ms. You don’t know me. It’s not that serious. Seriously.
a wkwardly . Mysteriously. Shaw: Youth is wasted on the young..
A nd I can’t help but think of Alice Walker,
b oy, The Color Purple, man, The Color Purple. I
r emember finding this book the summer before I left for college.
a wesome is as awesome writes (and I quote)
h atred. Threre’s not graceful way to carry hatred. Want
a nother? Ready for it? The
m ost common way people give up their power is thinking they don’t have any.
iv.
A nd this is where a teacher struggles.
s ee, I could go with humor and the lackadaisical
h ound mug that sometimes needs to be fixed, but that is
l ow, and I’m all about helping the individual grow.
e ventually, I like to my students to know the power of their
y esterdays with how they may know their tomorrow.
W omen have it hard. The daggers go deep at times.
o h, we men think we’re warriors, but I’m Maxine Hong Kingston
o n this. The world is better with a few Mulans,
d ivas, warriors of words, wisdom and kind deeds.
w e are the result of our mothers (not matter how they rest their face).
o h, I could list such women who have made me the man I am.
r eally, I owe much more to them. The patience. The shoulder.
t he ability to see me for who I am.
h eck. I’m more impressed with the mind and muscle of a Queen.
v.
B ring it. Sing it. Fling it. Wing it.
r ing it. Sling it. Swing it.
i repeat. Bring it. Sing it. Fling it. Wing it. Ring it. Sling it. Swing it.
and let them know we real cool cuz we are educated..we teach school.
P lease. As if you can handle all the love I’m
a bout to squeeze in this stanza, cuz she’s the bee’s knees, golden
r ubies, a field of poppies working with all these rookies. Listen
k iddies. It’s the lyrical melodies and the natural pretties that
m arries her stories into interesting theories, language tourneys…her
a ncestries, the tragedies, histories, & comedies that helpsjourneys with
n iceties and simplicities that make her students such legacies.
M an. What is this poem s’posed to be about?
c reativity? complexities? to gain some rhythmic
C lout? Cuz she ain’t having this apathy, your doubt…
u need to understand here she’s all about your breaking out,
l aying out, even blowing out of your comfort zones.
l ights out (and put away your cellphones, you 21st century clones. She
o wns you, will zone you, will groan you, windblown you
u lysses (that’s an allusion), Ms. McCullough will baritone you,
g irl. boy. Please. You’re in her universe now.
h armonies. electric ministries. qualities. & spiritual ideologies.
vi.
C ommunity. Communication. Commitment.
h ow wonderful it is, noted Anne Frank, that nobody need,
r eally, wait a single moment before starting to
i mprove the world. Subject - purpose - outcome - rules -
s caffolded tools, divisions of labor, & community.
B e brave. Know a neighbor. Let them know you.
u nravel individuality within the
c ollective. Center the child at the epicenter of their own
k aleidoscope. See the amazing artistry that results.
vii
C herry Heights. Childhood. Ghost in the Graveyard…
h ide-n-seek. Wiffleball. Football. Frisbee. A little like Monroe,
r iding bikes on Amalfi, Fortuna, Evesborough and Caughdnoy,
i ce cream trucks, swimming pools, Marco Polo, WWF,
s prinklers, Truth or Dare, Risk, skateboards & scabs.
B oys will be boys. Homerun Derby. Future. Sneaking out to hang
u nder the moon with girls. Peterboy’s bloody toe - the
z illion stars in the sky, all of us wishing we had a superpower to fly.
i nnocent kids with water guns emulating a world we rarely knew.
viii.
S ing, strangers, not afraid of the dark
h ide away, they say….
a nd I’m marching onto the beat I drum…
r un away, they say…
o h-oh-oh-oh
n o, they’ll love me as I am.
B ring on the music, cuz I’m marching to the song,
u nbelievable how strong we have come together,
n ever looking back, birds of a feather…
y ou know the beat, and the percussion is loud and clear
a nother round of opportunities are hitting our skin.
n ever again, writing for sorrow, cuz now we write to win!
ix.
J üst story-board. Hand out the squares and sketch,
e tch what you’re trying to say (a visual display), a
n arrative hooray, a cinematic story
n everending glory of their personalized achievement.
i came to the digital late, but I saw how great it was
f or language learners to block out what they couldn’t wait to
e ntertain me with…a relative state where they
r membered a time that mattered to them most.
M iniature movie makers. Tomorrow’s earth shakers composing
o veratures from memory and symphonies from history.
r eally, who doesn’t love a celebration day, where kids can
r eally be kids, and teachers can work with them, and not at them.
i want more boxes in my life. Photographs.
s napshots of what once was. Yesterday. Childhood.
s ome of the moments i almost forgot…the montage of
e verything that has made me who i am, including
y ou, and this summer’s cohort.
x.
W hat happens to Superman after he
e ats a tic-tack? Well, he has super fresh breath, of course.
s o, what do you call Clark Kent after a bowl of Clam Chowder?
l aughter is subjective. Why? Soup-er man, of course.
e eks. Why does the caped wonder only tell these jokes as he runs?
y ou know…cuz he’s an action comic.
D a dum dum. Ch.
a h, yee dads of the world. Who are we without our puns?
u m, what do you call it when Batman skips church? Christian Bale.
n o what’s the different between Batman and a robber?
i believe it’s because Batman can go shopping without Robin.
s ee. Huor is a superpower (in parenting and teaching 5th grade)
xi.
J uly is my favorite month. La escritura es
u n buen escape para
l a creativad - teachers,
y outh, workshops….6 weeks to work-up the creative sweat. Solo
C ierra los ojos y visualiza dónde quiere estar, y ¡listo!
a ll eyes close, an inhalation of memories / exhalation of possibilities,
r hythm, el ritmo, La gente bailaba al ritmo de los tambores. We dance in
v erse and rehearse with words, our own linguistic songs,
a cústico, solo, la armonia - a cacophony of us.
j une brings introductions…
a gosto, adios. But July.
l e esperanza, and I love / to believe / in hope.
xii.
N eophytes. Fledglings. Apprentice. Colt. Greenhorn.
i am old now, but begin every day as a newcomer,
c alculating what does this mean? why? Ignorance is my
k ryptonite. I believe others are the same.
P ersonalize the classroom. Listen.
e veryone can use another relationship, a mentor,
l earning is about the comprehensive input, the guidance, the
z ygote replicating infinitely until its being comes into the world.
e ach of us are vulnerable, omnipotent, weak & strong.
r eally, its only with one another, good teachers, we belong.
xiii.
E ventually such things matter (at least to this mad hatter):
d ialect, dialogue, diversity, decisions.
w hen a textbook categorizes populations
a nd names a group as least desirables, then i
r eally need to question what exists behind any state
d apartment’s construction of being.
C an’t imagine seeing Puerto Rico being listed
o n some page, a textbook, a hegemonic tyranny of hatred and
l avish ignorance, as anything but what it is:
l anguage, love, laughter,
a fuego. A culture on fire with story - the
z enith of struggle, perseverance, handwork and goals.
o h, Publishers suck. They need to know what a Puerto Rican knows.
xiv.
R ex ipsa loquitur. Everything speaks for itself.
y ou write of cellphones, text messages. honesty and love,
a nd (if you’re inclined) goodness shines from above
n ext to Milky Ways, galaxies, the heavens, the stars, our souls
D ancing in freedom, open to where the heart strolls,
o h, the complexity is simply the simpleness complex.
n one of us escape it, the heightened vertex,
o f our existence, our meaning, the pursuit of who we are,
v ariance in existence, our personal repertoire,
a nd we bite lips, we smile, The Great Whatever has our back. We
n eed to college our stories, to be carried proudly in our knapsack.
xv.
M ummies munch much mush; Monsters munch much mush;
a nd many mummies and monsters must munch must mush.
r eally? you think you can write a Prelutsky poem like an
i ris wristwatch was swapped by Rhys and Ross for a
s wiss wristwatch? Seriously? As if I didn’t already know
s usan shines shoes and socks, socks and shoes shines Susan.
a wkward. She stopped shining shoes and socks
F or shoes and socks shock Susan.
a lmond, ham, meringue, salami
s sassafras souvlaki hash
o range olive bagel beat
l obster litchi lima bean
i love this language play, you know what I mean?
xvi.
N orth Syracuse Central School District.
a dorky boy 1st - 12th grade
d eciding whether school was a trap or springboard.
i ‘ve always had a love/hate relationship with school.
y outh is wasted on the young (thanks, Shaw).
a nd I graduated. Moved on. Never looked back.
h ow interesting to return as a sub.
H ow interesting to be below where one once started
a rriving home to where it rebirth occurred once again.
f amily. friends. finding meaning of the past. the future.
i am a historical op-ed yet to be illustrated or written.
z any, whacky CNY boy went out into the galaxy to destroy.
o h, the way we write senior year memories only to
v oyage back and see so little change, yet everything is brand new.
a ll of this is to say, I see what substitute’s do!
xvii.
M aking meaning means starting anew…
y ou need markers, a blank page, imagination…that’s what you do.
k nowledge + reflection + doodles + words,
a xolotl, tarantula, monarchs, & birds
l aughter, washi tape, information, a walking fish
a rmadillos (pink fairies), all to reestablish
H ow minds work & kids learn & people think & humans grow,
e veryone needs crayons, sketches, to stretch and to grow.
i ncorporating arts, music, theatrics and play,
d ancing, prancing, & improv’ing to improve…
e tching, coloring, tracing - hooray!
n otebooks alive, we just got to move!
xviii.
C aelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.
a h, words. Vocabulary. Knowing where it all begins, and
r eaching to the origins to translate
o nly those who hurry across the sea can change the sky, but
l ack a way to change their souls and states of mind.
y ou lose that in translation; well, I do. Swimming
n ear the sunrise only to see it set seconds later.
S aliens gui prospicit, it’s wise to look ahead.
t o prep kids with words, wisdom, and a way to
r eflect. Sapientia et eloquencia. Wisdom and Truth.
e ach of us more smooth with just the right things to say.
e pluribus unum. Out of many, one…and
t his learning thing is much more fun when
s laying the language dragon together.
xix.
T he art of vision is seeing again,
r evision, a calculation of fusing just the right touch.
a little lime, some ice & always a splash of tequila,
c ranberry juice, the Mango, perhaps a lil orange.
e diting is this way. A mixologist always knows.
y ou experiment, take risks, and allow the flavors to grow.
A nd, entertainingly, the stories begin to flow.
c ause there was this one time, in college, when the
q ueen of England visited my dorm room (hiccup)(hiccup)
u nbelievalbe. The #$!% Queen of England, in my room
a sking me, yes, me, what I think of Meghan Markle.
r eally (hiccup hiccup). She asked me what I thought.
u nbelievable, right? Can you make me another one of these?
l ight alterations. Vodka, Vermouth.
o ne of those olives. It’s revision and a hope for better tips.
xx
A nd it will be okay. The beach. The bathing suit, and that
m adman professor’s need to bring you Big
y peanut butter cup, peanut-butter cookies.
C randall means well. Perhaps the real Superpower is love,
o r maybe it’s collaboration, working with a kid who has a
l earning dis/ability and guiding them to
l ean forward, activity,, in pursuit of their own accomplishments.
i am capable. I am proud. I can do this. I got this. I may
n eed support, but being human as a human being
s ays, “We all deserve the cookies every once in a while.”
xxi.
J üst because I needed a Stratford poem &
e ventually it was destined to run into a colleague in
n eed of wine on a Sunday at 5:55 p.m. when I was in
n eed of some bourbon (shhh. It’s summer…
i am, you are, we are on vacation). Weekends are about having
f un and sometimes, well, the kids take all the
e ntertainment out of it. Look at the two of us being
r eal (my student knows I buy the cheap stuff and not Basil Hayden).
C razy Donuts? Thanks, Wes. Who knew about Crazy Donuts.
u m, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with maple bacon crusts, but
m y mom is going to love me if I ever package her a shipment, &
m an oh woman oh man, it’s right next to the liquor store.
i mean, Stratford, what’s a teacher to do? A burger at Sitting Duck?
n ow I need to run even further than I usually do down Huntington
g oing in my middle-age, fat-boy pace
s imply hoping to see a new friend, a neighbor, and be able to wave hi!
xxii.
J uly brought them early this year (not Carajel, the month that is).
u nder the star-lit summer skies. I heard them
l icking their back legs in orchestrated cacophony -
i am amazed by such music, but know that their chorus will
e ventually call us back to work…to raking leaves, snowblowers…mud.
R eality sneaks in. There’s still time for one more morning kick-off
o r an afternoon high-five. Yes, it’s August. It was just June.
n o one ever said that life slows down as we get older. Nope,
e ach of us (Adulting sucks) must grow bolder,
s uck it up, tap a shoulder, simply to say, “We’re doing it for them.”
o nly a teacher understands such rituals…
n ext year it will be the same…the cicadas habituals, a reminder.
Epilogue
L et’s face it. Some of us are exactly like our students and
i left my reflection to the night before it was due…
v icious reality, sometimes composing can be cruel…
e ach of us exhausted and ready to be through.
A nother way to hope, I believe, is
s imply to look around us, to see what we do, and
W e did this together, the 2019 CWP crew. We
r allied, we wrote, we reflected and we grew -
i am amazed to get to know each and everyone of you.
t omorrow is Friday, and it may be a bummer, but
e ventually, you deserved this, a small taste of summer.
r eally, I meant it, from this Louisville project guy,
s igh, it’s sad, but now it’s your time to fly. (You got this!)
Well, HELLO, August!
Great poem!
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