In 7th grade in Literature class my teacher taught a poetry unit. She would “teach” us a poem at the beginning of every class. She pointed out the style and imagery, and made us understand the metaphors. I remember our discussion of “Mother to Son” by Langston Hughes. It’s a wonderful poem. Then she had us pick 10 poems and write reflections on them (she had a large poem library). Everyone groaned at first, but then I saw people being interested. Reading what they didn’t usaully read. Writing a full page, instead of just a paragraph, about every poem they chose. Our usually very quiet classroom was semi-noisy, but teacher didn’t mind because we were sharing poems (“Read this one, it’s good”) and asking questions (“Will you help me with the meaning of this?”). Then each of us shared a poem with the whole class. Some were good, and others not so good. I taught “Once by the Pacific” by Robert Frost.
Once by the Pacific
Robert Frost
The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God’s last Put out the Light was spoken.
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