I sat in Jay Matuzak's Sixth Grade classroom and watched him as he taught the art of writing poetry to his students. He endeavored to draw something deeper out of each one of them. Earlier attempts had resulted in silly game play in the students' poems. Now Mr. Matuzak, an elementary school teacher in St. Paul, demanded a serious attempt at the art. He used his own example of a recent tragedy in his family to show how he could approach and produce a poem of deeper merit. My advice for his students was to write without fear; fear of emotion, fear of topic, fear of the criticism from peers. When the children returned from a brief period of writing on their own, the poems they presented took a significant detour for the better. Mr. Matuzak's plea for a deeper approach, matched with the permission to write without fear, was successful. Gone were poems about bad school lunches, recess follies, and the time that so-and-so farted loudly in class. No student wrote to amuse their friends or hide their shame. We heard about sadness and guilt. We heard about earnest joys. We heard poems that came from the deepest parts of these children; be they formed of tears or true mirth. And this was only the very beginning for the children. I believe they left that day with a more profound sense of the possible in poetry. In the words of one of the students, "I just wrote about something that meant a lot to me and I wrote it without worrying about what my friends thought. I liked doing that."
What I did not notice that day was that out the window there was a slim streak across the sky. No, not a plane. Most certainly not a bird. It was...
WORDMAN!
That's right, Wordman! He works his way through the school system at the speed of a bullet teaching children creative writing. He can leap the highest metaphor. He can stop a runaway sentence. He is Wordman!
We've discussed novelty and poetry before. Does it work here? Does he have the superhuman ability to properly present the writing of poetry to the innocent children of our fair city? Why wouldn't he... he's Wordman. Certainly more powerful than anything Barney or Elmo could bring into the classroom. Wordman, yes, Wordman.
And what did third and fourth grade students think of this champion of poetry? When asked about Wordman, everyone used the same word (again and again): "Creepy. He was creepy."
Did he have a costume? "He wore a cape." One girl remembered a mask but she was corrected by the others that he did not wear a mask.
What did he teach you? "Poetry... or something."
What did you learn from Wordman's visit? This was followed by an endless volley of "uummms" and "aaahhhhs". No answers beyond what you can take from that.
How do you remember that day at school? "It was creepy... and embarrassing."
I have made attempts since to interview Wordman but, while early communications were hopeful, eventually everything fell silent. But that's alright because it's not like Batman or Aquaman readily gave interviews about their technique. I can appreciate leaving some secrets in the Wordcave. This is why I don't give away his secret identity here (the one noted on his website). I grew up with DC and Marvel comics and adhere strongly to the purpose of the secret identity. After all, we cannot be responsible for compromising Wordman's existence.
It's a struggle for me; would I ask Clark Kent to fight crime as Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne to take on the Joker as Bruce Wayne? Of course I would not. So how can I ask Wordman to bring poetry to school children as anyone else but Wordman? Ah, but didn't Superman and Batman bring results? Did Wordman? Not from the students I talked to. So, maybe the superhero novelty doesn't work in presenting poetry in schools (shocking, isn't it?). These children would learn no more about poetry from Teletubbies or the Wiggles. Being silly or goofy simply does not work. On Wordman's site he writes about "dignity in risk." Well, first dignity has to exist for there to be dignity in risk. There is no dignity in novelty; and certainly not where poetry is concerned.
I would ask Wordman to hang up the cape and present himself as a poet (which he claims to be) and show dignity in poetry. If he did that he would reap the benefits of risk. Most kids don't like clowns, and those that do, don't learn from them. Jay Matuzak opened up and showed considerable dignity toward the art and won in the end. Wordman walked into kryptonite. In this case, kryptonite was the derision of children.
© 2008 by D. Garcia-Wahl.