Pam points to a wall where the boys have hung their framed poetry. Little did I know that later I’d actually get to hear them recite their poems.
As we enter the next room, the smell of hot maple syrup hangs in the air. About fifteen middle school and high school boys are seated around the table finishing a late breakfast of waffles. Some are preparing to go to a field trip to the Met that day. Many of them laugh and roughhouse, while others sit quietly alone.
Not all the boys wanted to talk about books just then, milling about or leaving the room. Others opened up almost immediately.
One boy, Julian, readily told me about his interest in fashion. He showed me a few of his recent sketches. Right now he’s looking for a book on fashion. He’s determined to become a fashion designer some day. Some of the kids are interested in basketball and other sports. At one point the conversation turned to youtube.com—and how fun it was to watch people doing crazy things. Pam warned them not to give out their email addresses to strangers. They agreed.
Byron, the most energetic and humorous of the boys, asked if he could see my tape recorder, speaking into it. He wanted to hear himself being recorded.
Being heard extends to poetry, too, which has become a huge interest for many of the boys. Poetry allows them to express themselves and to know that their words matter. Lately the boys have been reciting their poems as Pam writes them down. According to Pam, “Someone capturing your words is very powerful.”
Pam asked Geraldo, who seemed shy, to share his poem about his father. But before he could, Julian quickly chimed in, needing to create his poem aloud, just then. Geraldo waited patiently as Julian started to speak. Pam whipped out her pad of paper.
I listened closely to the boys. And this is what I heard.
My Eyes
By Julian P.
When I see stuff I don’t see
I also see angels
and these horrible things
