Poetry Friday is hosted Diane at Random Noodling
So, last night we hosted our annual Back to School Night."
Parents filed into our classrooms and settled in to hear what their kid's learning life would be like in various classrooms and in our building. As I waited for parents to arrive and get seated, I couldn't help but notice their expressions, their body language. As they settled into their sixth grader's chair and pulled up to their sixth grader's desk, did they time travel...as I often do when I attend such nights at my own children's schools? Did they remember sweating it out in Algebra class, or losing themselves in a great book in English class? Did they remember wrestling with grammar or reciting their favorite poem? It's funny how some moments from long ago flash by on these evenings - we enter our kid's sixth grade classroom and there we are - re imagining and perhaps reinventing our own sixth grade year...as some of the parents in my room seemed to be doing. Which brings me to this marvelous poem about a sixth grade year that I'm hoping my sixth graders do NOT re imagine, when their time comes as a parent on Back to School Night...
The Alphabet Conspiracy
The word is the making of the world. —Wallace Stevens
It’s a filmstrip afternoon
and we’re all grateful
to the humming projector
in the middle of our desks,
the closed blinds, the absence of a real adult.
There’s a vague promise of revelation
from the title
and the dark, tree-lined streets, the voice
calling from a house
carrying within it our freedom not to answer.
Inside another house, a little girl in a pretty dress
is falling asleep
at her father’s desk, turning into
Alice in Wonderland
as her mind falls down the rabbit holes of grammar.
(you can read the rest of the poem here...)