Today was the sixth of 7 poetry sessions with a group of incarcerated young men.
It was not a good day. Not good at all. Before we even started the guard gave them another talking to about being quiet and listening to me and paying attention. I think his speaking up has made it more difficult for me but I don't feel like I can say anything to him because of the situation I am working in.
We did love poems. It was their idea. But of course they suggested it a few sessions ago and I made them wait until today. My thought was that since it was their idea they would be more into it. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
I read some love poems. I even read an I love you NOT poem by Bruce Lansky. They laughed. They started quoting song lyrics. So we brainstormed love terms on the board. I started simple and asked them to think about the little candy Valentine's Day hearts and what was written on them. I wrote the words on the board. Then they started calling out longer phrases, good ones. I wrote them on the board.
We worked together a bit more and then I turned them loose to work on their own love poem....or not love poem. The grumbling rose.
"I don't love anyone. I have nothing to say. I don't want to do this. I'm bored. This is stupid."
Most of the comments were familiar. I got variants of the same ones every visit and eventually they would knuckle down and start to write.
The boy who gave me so much trouble the first couple of sessions complained and then actually wrote something honest to who he was.
Then when I went around to read and help I asked one boy if he said he had someone to write about and he said yes. He was about 10 inches from my face and he kept his voice low enough so that he and I were the only ones who heard. He said, "You. I hate you.You got me in trouble. I talked to staff and they said you told them I was causing trouble. You screwed up my program and now I can't do anything. It's all your fault. I hate you. I wish you'd never come. " and so much more.
I kept telling myself not to buy into their drama but in the back of my mind there was this running voice saying mean things myself like, "I didn't say anything. You got yourself in trouble. And much more."
Then I went to one of the other boys who is usually cooperative and he said he wanted to write about this girl that he liked but he got locked up before he got the chance to tell her that he liked her. So we talked about how he could start it and he had written down, "I never told you" and I told him that would be a great list poem (we've done those) and he could start every line with that and figure out a frame for the beginning and the ending. So then he wanted to brainstorm some more and I was thinking that finally he was back with the program. I'm throwing out ideas and I said, "I never told you that I watch you...." and I'm thinking about how you watch someone across the room and he explodes and said I was calling him a stalker and went off for several minutes and stopped writing for the rest of the session.
Two of them yelled at me that everything had to rhyme or it was no good, even though we have discussed that poems don't need to rhyme.
The good artist said he was going to tear up all his drawings and he didn't want me to share anything at the museum. Then the other good artist said the same thing, that he didn't want anything posted in the museum. After that no one wanted anything to be displayed, even though their names won't be on them.
I felt like a babysitter who got locked in the bathroom while the kids I was supposed to be taking care of turned the house upside down.
No steps forward today.
I don't know how many steps backward.
Wednesday is my last day with them. It is hard to think about what to do for the final session. My plan was to do part day of writing, I don't know what kind yet, and then, party time. I got permission to bring in some snacks for them though I have to say, it was hard to make myself go shopping for them after a day like this.
Grade for the day. B minus.
Today I'm finding it hard to see that what I am doing there is making any sort of difference.
*** Click here to read all the posts in this series.
There are so many stories only you can tell.Tell them, please.
Who am I?I was born on the Cancer/Leo cusp and share a birthday with Ernest Hemingway and Robin Williams. The similarities don't stop there as I can go from depressed to ecstatic without ever passing go. I feel scared most of the time though my friends call me brave and I find it easier to believe in my friends than to believe in my own abilities to make what I want out of my life.
Who am I? A wife, a mother, a daughter, and even, gulp, a grandmother.
Who am I? A writer who never gets tired of playing with words, even when the words are hard to find. A writer of books for children and articles for grown-ups and many things in-between.
Who am I? A motivational speaker, writing instructor, workshop leader and full-time follower of dreams.
Who am I? Read and find out.
Susan Taylor Brown
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"Successful writers are not the ones who write the best sentences. They are the ones who keep writing. They are the ones who discover what is most important and strangest and most pleasurable in themselves, and keep believing in the value of their work, despite the difficulties."
--Bonnie Friedman
"As writers, we must be willing to feel our sadness, our anger, our terror, so we can reach in and find our sweet vulnerability that is just sitting there waiting for us to come back home."
--Nancy Slonim Aronie
"Writers write about what obsesses them. You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at the age of 6. I lost my faith as a Catholic. When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is."
--Anne Rice
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Comments
[hugs]
I hope your last session goes well.
Thanks for the support.
Edited at 2009-01-27 05:09 am (UTC)
Keep in mind that most of the effect you're having on them--and it *is* a positive effect--won't be something they can see or articulate or act upon for a long time. But it's there, long term. How many times do we remember, cling to, some offhand comment someone who had a little more faith in us than the rest of the world makes? They might not ever remember saying it, but to us, it's exactly what we need to here--and half the time we never even tell that person how much they helped.
Who knows what good you're doing short or long term? No one--and those kids are in the worst possible position to judge your effect right now. So don't let them judge you; there will probably be something you say on Wednesday, something you don't even think about at the time, that will help at least one of them in some way.
*hugs* Stay strong. You're really incredible for taking this on.
All hugs greatly appreciated.
Give yourself an A+, most people don't have the guts and heart to do what you've done.
They want you to love them, but also want to prove that you don't.
That feels like it exactly. And that's the sort of thing I am trying to put into a letter to them.
I am ready for it all to be over and yet I know I will be sorry when it ends.
Think on the positive side. Kids who are like this, with so many problems, don't have the self-respect to feel good about their work. They worry that if you put it out there people will ridicule it and then whatever shreds of good they feel about themselves will disintegrate. So they try to push you away and today was their way of saying that they know this is the next to the last day and they have to go back to their usual routine without this fun intrusion into their life. I think that the last class you will find that some will show more interest.
You are keeping their work, aren't you? You are publishing it so they can have it on the last day? It's been my experience that seeing their names and their work in a printed form will make them feel different. Can you scan the work of your good artists into this? I may be wrong, but it is a good idea to give them something and I thought you said you were going to do that.
But don't take this personally. I have worked in schools where kids had a lot of baggage and each day was a constant struggle to get them to see their own worth. They block out anything that adults say to them and live with the negative talk of their parents and friends. It's a hard wall to crack and 7 sessions with you might only put a tiny scratch in it. At least you might have gotten to a few of them and when I was teaching if I got to only one kid I was happy.:)
Feel better. Sorry about the long comment. Wish I could pat you on the head and say, "There, there. It will be better. You are tackling an amazing situation.
Barbara (from facebook)
Don't get me wrong--there are moments when I love my class. And I see so much potential in all of them. But I never thought it would be so friggin hard.
Yes, I am totally with you. Sometimes I love them and they are just a bunch of teenage boys goofing off and cutting up. Like the episode with the mirrors. And I also see a lot of potential in most of these.
But yes, so so so very hard!
I've been working on my letters to them all morning. I hope I can achieve the right tone of pride in their attempts and encouragement in continuing to try and to dream.