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From: Liz Rosenberg <1319402694>
Date: Tue, 21 Apr 1998 21:23:41 -0400 (EDT)
Megan:
Thanks for including me in this conversation about poetry and young people. And thanks for your interesting questions. I hope there will be others besides. Please note that my e-mail is balking and refusing to include spaces between most words.
1) "Earth-Shattering Poems" began when my editor at Holt, Marc Aronson, asked me to put together a collection of poems about death for teenage readers. I didn't feel I could take on such a project--too dark even for me--but I understood that he wanted to address the kinds of needs that young people feel when they are in the grip of a crisis like the death of a loved one. I asked if we could expand that to include a number of
"earth-shattering" events-?lling in (or out!) of love, death of loved ones, war, jealousy, etc. And he said yes.
At that point I *could* begin to gather poems, and also to look through the many poems I have loved and lugged around in filing cabinets and drawers for years--some of them for twenty five years. I wanted to include those poems that seem to shatter one's perception of how-things-are--which is how Basho's famous frog haiku poem was included--as well as poems that are in themselves earth-shattering experiences, as well as those that depict such experiences in life. A tall order--but poetry is taller.
2) How do I encourage readers to be more comfortable with poetry? Well, to be honest, I find that simply sharing a few poems I care a lot about works best. I read a poem aloud, maybe ask a simple what-is-happening question. I read the poem aloud again, and ask a few more questions. Read it again, and begin to talk about what I understand about the poem--maybe biographical background on the poet, or explanation of words, or pointing out things I particularly admire. Then more questions, harder ones, like What do you think the poet means by this? Or What does this image here have to do with that one over there? --I don't always have to know the answers to all these questions, by the way. One seldom does. But I have enough of a grasp of the poem to feel comfortable walking around with it, so to speak.
Invariably, other readers bring me things I would not have seen in a poem. They constantly refresh me with their own insights. Once we have spent a little time with a poem--I mean no more than ten or fifteen minutes--then I move to another poem, and we talk about that. Generally, after two poems people are ready to try to write their own. Now they have not only the two poems in their head, guiding them --sort of like stones in a boggy path--but also the perceptions around those poems. Then I give any related writing idea--let's say, write your own haiku. Or, write your own poem about an animal you admire. Or, your own nature poem. (It almost doesn't matter what. The less complex, the better, I've found.) And most children--and most adults-?el free to write freely. We read aloud as many of those poems as people like to share, and now, have created our own anthology of work. This too becomes a stepping stone to other work.
I think the main thing is to create a safe and sane and relaxed environment for poetry. This would be equally true of science or math or music or art. First, let people feel comfortable with the medium. Let them conquer some small task--understand one poem, or one part of one poem, for instance. Be playful with it. See that it isn't terrifying, or foreign, or unrelated to their own pressing real lives.
I was talking with the wonderful poet and anthologist Paul Janeczko the other night, about teaching poetry to children. We laughed and said, It's really easy. That's the trick. The trick is that it is easy. --With older middle school kids and high school kids, who feel more defensive--it gets a little harder. But even there, you can usually break those defenses down without killing yourself--or them.
I suppose I am talking about modeling. Modeling, and then doing. To me, that's the best way to teach anything, from tying a shoe to algebra to reading a poem by Emily Dickinson.
Thanks for the questions. I hope these responses are 1) not too boring and 2) useful Liz Rosenberg
Received on Tue 21 Apr 1998 08:23:41 PM CDT
Date: Tue, 21 Apr 1998 21:23:41 -0400 (EDT)
Megan:
Thanks for including me in this conversation about poetry and young people. And thanks for your interesting questions. I hope there will be others besides. Please note that my e-mail is balking and refusing to include spaces between most words.
1) "Earth-Shattering Poems" began when my editor at Holt, Marc Aronson, asked me to put together a collection of poems about death for teenage readers. I didn't feel I could take on such a project--too dark even for me--but I understood that he wanted to address the kinds of needs that young people feel when they are in the grip of a crisis like the death of a loved one. I asked if we could expand that to include a number of
"earth-shattering" events-?lling in (or out!) of love, death of loved ones, war, jealousy, etc. And he said yes.
At that point I *could* begin to gather poems, and also to look through the many poems I have loved and lugged around in filing cabinets and drawers for years--some of them for twenty five years. I wanted to include those poems that seem to shatter one's perception of how-things-are--which is how Basho's famous frog haiku poem was included--as well as poems that are in themselves earth-shattering experiences, as well as those that depict such experiences in life. A tall order--but poetry is taller.
2) How do I encourage readers to be more comfortable with poetry? Well, to be honest, I find that simply sharing a few poems I care a lot about works best. I read a poem aloud, maybe ask a simple what-is-happening question. I read the poem aloud again, and ask a few more questions. Read it again, and begin to talk about what I understand about the poem--maybe biographical background on the poet, or explanation of words, or pointing out things I particularly admire. Then more questions, harder ones, like What do you think the poet means by this? Or What does this image here have to do with that one over there? --I don't always have to know the answers to all these questions, by the way. One seldom does. But I have enough of a grasp of the poem to feel comfortable walking around with it, so to speak.
Invariably, other readers bring me things I would not have seen in a poem. They constantly refresh me with their own insights. Once we have spent a little time with a poem--I mean no more than ten or fifteen minutes--then I move to another poem, and we talk about that. Generally, after two poems people are ready to try to write their own. Now they have not only the two poems in their head, guiding them --sort of like stones in a boggy path--but also the perceptions around those poems. Then I give any related writing idea--let's say, write your own haiku. Or, write your own poem about an animal you admire. Or, your own nature poem. (It almost doesn't matter what. The less complex, the better, I've found.) And most children--and most adults-?el free to write freely. We read aloud as many of those poems as people like to share, and now, have created our own anthology of work. This too becomes a stepping stone to other work.
I think the main thing is to create a safe and sane and relaxed environment for poetry. This would be equally true of science or math or music or art. First, let people feel comfortable with the medium. Let them conquer some small task--understand one poem, or one part of one poem, for instance. Be playful with it. See that it isn't terrifying, or foreign, or unrelated to their own pressing real lives.
I was talking with the wonderful poet and anthologist Paul Janeczko the other night, about teaching poetry to children. We laughed and said, It's really easy. That's the trick. The trick is that it is easy. --With older middle school kids and high school kids, who feel more defensive--it gets a little harder. But even there, you can usually break those defenses down without killing yourself--or them.
I suppose I am talking about modeling. Modeling, and then doing. To me, that's the best way to teach anything, from tying a shoe to algebra to reading a poem by Emily Dickinson.
Thanks for the questions. I hope these responses are 1) not too boring and 2) useful Liz Rosenberg
Received on Tue 21 Apr 1998 08:23:41 PM CDT
