In my dayjob as a lecturer in literacy and education,  the two key messages I constantly try to impart to these future teachers is that if you are going to teach reading, you need to be a reader yourself and if you are going to teach writing, you need to be a writer. Sometimes I think my students get sick of me repeating these messages, but I also try to model what that looks like in every class, by reading to and with my students, and writing with them too.

The unit I am teaching this Semester is an elective called Creative Literacies, and it is all about teaching literacy, and the subject English, in creative ways and to develop creativity in students.  Each week we look at different aspects of the curriculum – reading, writing, nonfiction, visual arts and more. But this week’s topic is my favourite one: Poetry.

I love teaching this class – although one two hour block seems to go past sooooo quickly. It’s less of a lecture and more of impassioned call to action, beginning with an explanation to my students of my own love of poetry and how that love was almost quashed by high school English and the dreaded exercises in Practical Criticism (or Prac. Crit. as they were always called).

If you are not familiar with a prac. crit, don’t worry. What this involved was being given an unseen poem, and then having to write an essay about it. That was pretty much the guidance I remember receiving. And I had no idea how to do it. I was, apparently, required to read the poem, see past the words to all the hidden layers and then write eloquently about what it meant and how the poem imparted that meaning.

I remember feeling dumb.

Every

single

time.

It seemed my classmates could see those layers. But I just felt dread. Was I getting the ‘right’ meaning? And was this meaning imparted through iambic pentameter? Trochaic something-or-other?

Amazingly, I managed to pass English Literature in my final year 12 exams, but it was my worst subject. Luckily I also took regular English, and that was my best. And somehow, in spite of that experience, I still loved poetry – just not in the classroom. And ended up studying literature at university and, eventually, completed a PhdD focussing on children’s poetry – though there was not a prac. crit. in sight. [Side note: On my very first teaching practice as a student teacher, an English teacher called Ron taught his students how to write a prac. crit. It was the first time I had heard it explained in a way I understood. And I have never forgotten that lesson – and I used his method to teach my own students for many years In fact, if I do say so myself, I could write a pretty mean prac. crit these days, if I wanted to. Which I don’t.]

Anyway, back to this week’s class. As well as telling my own poetry journey as an introduction, we spent our class looking at brilliant examples of poetry, including verse novels, some simple writing exercises and lots of talk about poetry. By the end of the class I could see that my students were enthused about poetry – partly because of the class, and partly because they are bright individuals who already have deep interests in reading and writing which will make them fine teachers.

If you are reading this and are a teacher, or future teacher, this is the takeaway I want to offer:

1. Don’t be scared of poetry. If the layers are too obscure, it’s the wrong poem.
2. There is no right answer for any poem – and, in writing, no right answer in form either.
3. Use more poetry in your classroom! It doesn’t have to be siloed into a two week unit at the end of term 2. It can be a daily offering – present in your class library, adorning the walls of your room, written and read alongside any other form. And if you are stuck for ideas, hit me up!

I’m going to finish with a poem (of course), not freshly written, but which seems apt to share today.

Now I’m off to enjoy more poetry because it’s Poetry Friday! The round up is over at Jone’s blog. There is always plenty of poetry goodness on offer – and no one expects a prac. crit. to be written afterwards 🙂