I scribbled these words on Jacob's paper:
jacob,
you're a future
poet of the
world -- never
stop writing!!!!
love,
amanda
Minutes later, Jacob stood next to me, his rosy moon face looking up at me behind his round glasses, and said in a low voice (leaning in): you WROTE that i'd be a poet someday. Yeah, I know, I replied. I really think it's in you Jacob. You see the world through poetry. What do you think about that? He just nodded his head and walked proudly to his desk.
Jacob's an interesting kid -- His mind swirls with thoughts of infinity and minutia. I tell Matt, my guide this week, how much I'm loving Jacob and he goes, I knew you would. This kid -- his dad, well, he's what you call a "redneck," -- doesn't know quite what to do with a son like Jacob.
With no prompting whatsoever (just a conversation on math and numbers) here's what Jacob wrote: (mind you, after worrying that he wasn' sure he'd ever even SEEN a poem before!)
mixed numbers they're
mysterious -- just sitting alone ---
no one there ---
in a white world --- just staring into a white
space --- you hear your voice echoing and multiplying
voices in your head --- and dividing and dividing and dividing
and divided forever ---
nothing ever changes --- just a plane world
but never seen again as you walk
into the white, plane world
-- jacob, 6th grade
ripley community school
ripley, ny
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