I am following #VerseLove at Ethical ELA. A few days ago the prompt was taken from a poem by Clint Smith (linked here). Spending time back in my home town of Jackson, MS always brings up memories. When I was 15, I spent my summer volunteering at a church sponsored camp for underprivileged children who were referred by their teachers as struggling readers. The experience launched me into a lifetime career of teaching. Do you remember why you became a teacher? or whatever your chosen career? Why do we make these choices in life? How do we know it’s the right choice? I’ve always known teaching was right for me.
Something You Should Know
after Clint SmithI became a teacher the summer I turned 15,
volunteering for “Operation Life Enrichment”
Ole’!We gathered the underprivileged children
from the dregs of Jackson Public Schools–
children struggling to read and know things
like zoo animals and swimming pools and reciting
the ABC song.Their skin was the color of cafe ole,
smooth caffeine
that entered my veins in their hugs,
their fingers in my soft blonde hair.I learned how to cradle their heads,
singing to them
the lyrical language
of picture books.I knew then
Margaret Simon, draft
as I know now
my passion, my calling, my purpose
is teaching.
Reflections on the Teche 
So lovely, Margaret.The lines, “I learned how to cradle their heads,/singing to them/the lyrical language/
of picture books.” sing to me!
I don’t know when I decided on teaching. Teaching picked me as a child, all those days of “playing school” with reluctant siblings as the rain fell on Portland streets—for nine months, about the length of a school year.
Oh yes! Lining up the dolls and stuffies for a day of lessons!
Love reading the reflection and the rationale and the realization of a calling. I didn’t have that sort of epiphany. It was a gradual approach to a profession. My daughter, Cecily, will have a much better story to tell!
That is such an powerful poem about your “roots” as a teacher. It makes me think of my “first” teaching job at an ARC (Association of Retarded Children!!!!??????) summer program in Albany New, York with children of all ages and more water play than I had ever imagined!
Those special children get into our hearts don’t they?
This poem is lovely. I can see the children, rapt in attention listening to you read and gathering around you. You make me want to write about how I became a teacher. I’m going to work on that this week. Thanks for sharing.
Rita, if you do write, let me know. You can leave a link here.
Margaret, have you read the book Reading with Patrick? Your poem reminds me of this book that I read a couple summers ago with Penny Kittle’s book club. Lovely memories and so touching!
15! Wow. I love the way your poem captures that memory. “I learned how to cradle their heads…” That’s my favourite part.
Beautiful, and so inspiring. I hope the young teachers of today have this kind of heart, like yours.
Margaret, I love your sweet details about how you became a teacher.
“I learned how to cradle their heads,
singing to them
the lyrical language
of picture books.”
Oh, so beautiful. I had nephews and nieces that I learned to read to and loved capturing their attention. However, I came into teaching accidentally. After being a part time coach during college, I was recruited to teach summer school kindergarten at the same private school. It was then I became hooked.
Nothing like that hands on experience to help you discover what you are meant to do. Like our shared writing life in these blog spaces.
Margaret, what happens if someone doesn’t show up for the progressive poem?