Some days I recall you, my pupils,
Whose habits gave the Principal chills.
Enlisted was I to rouse you and teach,
A goal considered difficult to reach.
You’d display confusion, faces of dispassion,
With the spelling words you could not fashion.
You’d shout, explode, cry, and frown,
And shun my words with eyes turned down.
And, you’d approach our lessons in grammar
As if trying to repair china with a hammer.
So how does one open a 4th grader’s mind,
While including all the matter assigned —
To coax and motivate with probes and pokes,
To make a difference in these small folks?
Allow meek Dedek to create a math lesson
To instruct our class at his own discretion.
Urge shy Alicia and Sue to challenge at HORSE
The boys on the court of the school concourse.
And let rowdy Dan and Sacha write the content
Of the year-end school play for classmates to present.
So, you, my class, taught me something sweet:
That real learning is not a one-way street.
Worlds of wonder and progress can be shared
When capabilities and incentives are paired.
© 1992, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.
