I was sitting at my desk 10 minutes ago, marking some tests, when the guy at the desk next to me sat down. He has my year 9 English kids for Maths.
“Your poem about the stalker got me in,” he said.
I tore myself away from what I was concentrating on and blinked.
“The kids showed me your poem. At first I didn’t realise what was happening, but they kept saying, “Keep reading!” and then half way down the page I realised what was going on. It was really good. I enjoyed it.”
I’m not sure what I said, but it was a strange feeling, almost like my worlds were colliding. (I had a fleeting sense of sympathy for my kids when I pick them up at parties and other kids freak out and call me “Miss”.) I was rapt that I hadn’t misread the class yesterday and that they really DID get into the poems, but it was also a bit strange… as if people were reading things behind my back. Well, that’s a stupid thing to say, because of course they were, but it was an eerie feeling nonetheless. (Especially in a MATHS class…. the natural enemy of the English teacher…)
I think on the whole I’m glad that the kids are really getting into the poetry thing, but it makes me wish that I’d written a better poem if they’re going to start bandying it about to my work colleagues…