Friday, September 12, 2008

If it's rap, it ain't no poetry....

If you listen, there are stories waiting to be written down on the page. I remember when I wrote this. I was an interim teacher for a week because there was a shortage within this one school and since I was tired of living in a cubby, I volunteered for the assignment. It actually happened. The words written were the one's spoken during the 1999-2000 school year. Unless it was written, I believe the clarity would have been lost. And then, this memory would have faded. Instead, whenever I read it, I am reminded if it's rap, it ain't no poetry.....

- If it's rap, it ain't no poetry
Turmaine said to me
first day of school.

Schools been going on.
Been going on since 7:30.
In walks Turmaine.
Cool as cool can be.

Yeah, I'm cool.
I'm cool.
My classroom.
I'm cool.
Cool as cool can be.

Turmaine comes walking in.
Cool as cool can be.

Reading poetry.
I am reading poetry.
To the class I am reading
and from the back I hear.

- Man, I hate poetry.
Poetry is for SISSIES!

I read on to the end.

- Hey, Turmaine.

- You listen to music?
-Yeah, I listen to music.

-What kind of music you listen to?
-Rap, man! I like RAP!!!

-Rap is poetry.
-Rap ain't no poetry.

-Yes it is. I betcha if you ask the artists who create it they would tell ya it was poetry.
-No way, Rap ain't poetry.

Reading poetry.
I am reading poetry.
To the class I am reading
and Turmaine is still muttering

Share some books:
Fox and... got it.

-Go to the group you want to go to.
I say.

Turmaine goes to...
You got it.


I watch,
and then smile and say

-Hey Turmaine
didn't think you liked poetry.
I say, smiling.

Turmaine takes a book.
Tongue Twisters he takes
and sits on the floor with

I sit down.

-Sounds like rap to me Turmaine
-This ain't no rap. This is poetry.
he mutters.

We share the tongue twisters.
Out loud we share.

-Great Turmaine. You're doing great.
I say.

He reads aloud again and again.
End of the day.
Reading poetry.
I am reading poetry.
To the class I am reading.

-Can I take the book home?
-No way man, that's poetry
I say.

And then I call him up to the front of the room.

-Have at it Turmaine
Handing him the book.

-But Turmaine.
This ain't no RAP
This is poetry.

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