Author Archives: sara holbrook

About sara holbrook

Poet/Author/Educator

What’s the use in love poems?

After the sixth grade assembly a boy came up to me and asked, “Why do poets always write about love? Never did ME any good.”
“How old are you?”
“Eleven.”
“Well, give it another chance, you’ve got time.”
“Love is just a kick in the crotch.” And he walked off before I could get any more senseless words out of my stunned mouth.

A teacher from NY wrote to me tonight and asked me to talk about my time in middle school — how was it really? I honestly told her that I have spent the rest of my life trying to get over middle school. The best I could say about it is that it didn’t last forever.

But how to you convince love weary 11 year olds that the sun is shining on the other side of 6th grade? Cheer up, kid just doesn’t cut through his skeptical squint.

Memorial Junior High and beyond

It is rare that I visit a school and get to come home for lunch, but Memorial is right down the road from my house. I had a great time with the writing club and with an honors English class writing. In the afternoon, the two assemblies went well. But in between, I visited a social studies classroom where I am friends with the teacher (she is my aerobics instructor). They were beginning a unit on ancient China. So, when I came home for lunch, I took back a book I have of 1000-2000 year old Chinese poetry to share with the kids. I love old poems because they are first person accounts from folks who were really their, letters from the past, like reading someone else’s journal with permission. The poems lead to a discussion of my recent trip to China and the Middle East, including talking about meeting the dedicated teachers from Afghanistan.

“They teach the street children in 2 hour shifts, arranging school around the kids’ work schedules.”
“What kinds of jobs do they do?”
“Various things, some work in rug factories making rugs for Americans to buy at Sam’s Club.”
One student looked at me very seriously, “I’m never buying a rug again.”

Of course we all buy products that are made overseas, many of them by children. How does one know if buying such a rug or pair of jeans keeps those children in poverty or actually is their only means of eating? While work may be a fact of life for kids in some places, no one wants to see their lives limited by that work so that they never learn to read or a trade that would enable them to have a better life. Which got me to thinking . . .

While I was at TARA, I met an incredible educator named Anna, who taught in Kabul in more peaceful times. She is now working to help raise money and gather supplies for teaching street children and women to read and learn a craft in war weary Afghanistan. I decided to write to her to see if there is anything I can do. If anyone wants to read more about her efforts, here is a link to her blog: annakuchi.blogspot.com.

I’m not sure what I can do, but it would seem to me that with a few friends, we might be able to make a slight difference in the lives of some of these women and children. School supplies? Blankets? I’ll be waiting to hear from Anna. Watch for more postings.

Perseus House Charter School of Excellence

I drove home from a great visit to Perseus in Erie, PA today only to sit down to watch another expose about yet another teacher engaged in appropriate conduct with a student. Purportedly.

How come the teachers I met today in Erie never make the news? The ones who attend conferences on their own dime to learn new ideas to share with their students, write grants, negotiate and cajole for supplies and motivations for kids because they really love them? Love hardly seems newsworthy. I found a lot of love at Perseus today, a school populated by kids who have not found success in school in the past, but who are working toward graduation because there are a few teachers and administrators who have not given up on them.

A car I passed on I90 on the way home had a sign in the back window that said, “I support teachers.” Homemade. I don’t think I’ve seen any of those pre-printed anywhere. I need one of those.

Thanks to Bill and his wife and the administration at Perseus for their kind invitation.

Between a rock and a melting place

Ajax (the special needs dog) is eating a pencil under my desk. I’m dressed for the gym but stalled here at the computer. I read the news — or most of it. I’m afraid to look at the article about the melting polar cap and disappearing glaciers. I already struggled through the article about how Arkansas teachers are being forced to not mention the word “evolution” and are not allowed to state the ages of rocks. http://www.arktimes.com/Articles/ArticleViewer.aspx?ArticleID=e7a0f0e1-ecfd-4fc8-bca4-b9997c912a91. Says the teacher, “I am instructed NOT to use hard numbers when telling kids how old rocks are. I am supposed to say that these rocks are VERY VERY OLD … but I am NOT to say that these rocks are thought to be about 300 million years old.”

What? How are those students going to compete and maintain in a world that is melting?

Some days the news is just too discouraging. What I have to fight against is not becoming so mired down in it that I stop doing positive things. Like take in a few laps at the gym.

I take the pencil out of Ajax’s clench. At least he won’t die of lead poisoning. Today. Okay, I’m in motion.

Don’t know how to feel about this

Let’s say some school district, a big district, is putting together scripted lesson plans for the third grade, a program that is destined to grow up through all the grades. It is organized into 10 minute segments so that every teacher in the district can be at the same point at the same time — or within a day or so of one another. The stated reason for this is that there is a high percentage of transfers within the district every year, so this would allow students to transfer schools more easily.

Let’s also say that the plan is being put together by caring, local teachers, not some big corporate entity in (just say) Texas. But, the end result will be a script for each teacher with mandated compliance, leaving very little room for teacher creativity.

Now, let’s say, this big district comes to an arts organization and through them to a couple of poets and asks them to help in the drafting of an isolated poetry unit to be taught in April.

Say the poet in question is violently opposed to scripted anything, believes in teaching poetry across the year, curriculum and all content areas, and doesn’t approve of teaching poetry in isolated units. If the poet says, no, I won’t help script your lessons because I don’t like how you are doing this, does that benefit the kids? If the poet agrees to work within a system she doesn’t agree with philosophically, is that a betrayal of her own ideals?

How does one best work to keep poetry alive in schools as they become more and more systematized? Art is all about improvising — do we as artists improvise our way around the system or turn our backs? What if the result of turning our backs is that the kids are strapped into a curriculum with no room for improvisation?

What is the best benefit to the kids? We can’t meet them all outside of school, so we must work within the schools. But . . .

Parkside Elementary School, Goshen, IN

Goshen is in prairie country, flat and windswept. Tuesday morning dawned clear and cold — extra cold. The reception at school however was warm and welcoming. The students from Parkside are camping out at a school called (appropriately) Praire Elementary while their own school is undergoing an extreme makeover. But before my visit the kids had been busy doing a makeover of their own — decorating the halls and display cases with their own writing. Very impressive! At the end of the day the school hosted a poetry night for parents — and what a turn-out! The families spilled over from the chairs set up in the middle of the gym and into the bleachers. And the event wasn’t even at the neighborhood school, it was across town at Prairie, but there they were, all these parents supporting literacy by turning out and (no doubt) cruising the hallways to see their students’ writing.

Many thanks to teacher Matt Cooper and the rest of the staff for all their hard work in preparing for my visit. Very cool day — and I ain’t just talkin’ weather.


Poem the poem — Parkside teacher Matt Cooper had his fifth graders rewrite some of my poems, to “poem the poem,” as he describes it. Here one student rewrote “Which Way to the Dragon” as Which Way to my Teddy Bear.” Posted by Picasa


Universal peace signs and lots of smiles. Posted by Picasa

Illegal migrants — not an issue confined to USA

In China, rules are in place that require a visa to move from one province (like a state) to another. If a family moves without this visa to find work, say from a farming community to the growing city of Shanghai, they become illegal immigrants and thus are not able to enroll their children in state supported Chinese schools.

Rather than see these children grow up uneducated, a dedicated group of teachers are working with these children under very basic circumstances to teach them basic skills. At the migrant school by the Pu Dong campus of Shanghai American School, students attend classrooms such as the one pictured. There are 50 students to a classroom, including pre-school. They students sit at their little tables and learn most of their lessons orally by recitation. The fifth graders and third graders are learning English along with their lessons and every year each class memorizes a number of classic Chinese poems. The pre-school students were in a class with not a single toy, they too were seated at tables. But, I noticed on the board that they were learning their math facts — 5-2=3. Oral lessons.

Outside the school is state of the art playground equipment donated by SAS which has been working to help their meger circumstances. Everyone at the migrant school was anxious for me to know that theirs is not a typical Chinese school.

By the way, the reason these kids are all bundled up is not because they are ready for recess. This school has no heat. It was in the low forties the day we visited, note the rosy cheeks.


Children at the Chinese Migrant School recite poetry by heart. Then I taught them a poem in English — my shortest poem. Everyone laughed and laughed.  Posted by Picasa