When the Teacher is the Student

I have been a teacher for 32 years. What a shock to my system to be a student!

Last spring, I had the wonderful opportunity to be granted a sabbatical for half a year, during which time I wrote poetry. Although I have always loved reading, studying, and teaching poetry, I had never written poetry before, and I had certainly never considered myself a poet. Even writing it now feels presumptuous. 

This past January,  however, I committed to a writing discipline, enrolled in poetry writing classes, and signed up for writing retreats. And after all my years of being the “expert” in the room, I was suddenly a novice. I enrolled in online and in-person classes, and right away I was asked to write a poem — in one week — and be ready to workshop it with a room full of strangers. I immediately started to sweat. Was I going to put my heart on the page and invite them to stomp on it? Should I play it safe? Try something honest? Try to impress everyone with my intellect? Use all the big words? I was nervous, and I had to fight through self-doubt. But, believe me, I got to work. 

In proposing my sabbatical project, I had told myself that it would be good for me as a teacher to be in the same situations I put students in — having to try something new, sharing creative work with others, risking feeling foolish or imperfect. That was easy to say but hard to experience. To make a long story short, it was fine. I wrote something that was a little interesting and not entirely cringeworthy, the strangers in the room were kind, and I learned that I could begin to think of myself as a poet. 

This experience will impact my teaching profoundly. Now, I can empathize with students’ writing struggles. I can bear witness to the inspiration that emerges from frustration. I can share with my students the relevance of poetry as a tool for understanding the world, and I am more committed than ever to inviting students to write. Together we can write in true, honest, imperfect, complex ways, and together we can fight through our self-doubt. Yes, it is hard. I know that. And yet when we all share our words, we can witness our own growth. 

I want to thank Dana Hall for honoring me with this chance to explore my own writing, and I especially want to thank the members of the Congdon family for establishing the Congdon Sabbatical program at Dana Hall, which made this enriching experience possible. The best way for me to express my gratitude will be to bring it all into the classroom with me and start shaping the next generation of poets.