Howl for Jamaal

Jose Vilson is one of my favorite writers. What a nice surprise it was for me to see him invoke one of my favorite poets, Allen Ginsberg, in this meme, in which he asks the blogosphere to help him fill out a Ginsberg-like poem. He didn't intend for us to mimic the style ourselves, but I decided to do so in an insufficient ode to Ginsberg and one of my all-time favorite students, who I'll call Jamaal.


Jamaal,

Who clings to the strings of hopeless hoop dreams he doesn't know have already faded fast into the overbearing glare of Nike-sponsored wunderkind man-children engineered from the crowning to make sure he never hears the crowd chant anything other than "you will never get paid to play this game"...

Who got jokes and a puffed up chest and sometimes smokes to hide the pain of motherless nights and the drain of a fatherless life from the prying eyes and remarks both sinister and snide of the untamed teenage wasteland...

Who buries his desperate face in the naked breast and matronly embrace of guardian angels living and dead named Biggie, Pac, and Jigga because they tell him that he may feel lonely, but he is not alone...

Who will grin when and only when he sits at the drum set banging out his heart beat, rat-a-tat-tat for brother Charles, rat-a-tat-tat for cousin Nae Nae, rat-a-tat-tat for Crystal who he loved with adolescent fury and lost with stone-faced fighter pilot bravado, on the outside...

Who has an unexplainable innocent smile and a charmer's wit that beguiles even the teacher in 402, crusty and jaded, whose ability to see pearls in oysters has, almost, faded, but who knows that when he's bad, he's very very bad, but when he's good...

Who learned math by peddling grass for a part-time dad who he won't see for five to ten more but for whom he will still sell rock candy to drunks and whores even though he knows it's wrong to want a dad more than a soul...

Who once had a teacher who believed in him and loved him no matter what he did, who would pick him up every time he fell, if only he could...

Socrates, who has learned to love unconditionally...

Time to Reboot

I'm done with the bitter policy battles waged against hapless cynics arguing for the interests of teachers. My kids need a voice in the policy debate. I will try to give them one.