Notes from a State of the City (2019) poetry reading:

We live in extraordinary times.

But what can we do? We are just ordinary people. 

It can be overwhelming. It can be easy to slip into fear and despair. 

But my students remind me to hope, too.  

Students like Danny, a laid-off auto-worker, undergoing chemo, who never missed a class or turned  in a late assignment, because he was dying and he recognized the importance of telling his story. 

Students like Billy, who said the bravest thing she ever did was walk through the door and enroll at  Ivy Tech Community College, because who was she to think she was college material? 

Students whose courage I admire. Incorrigible students with gumption and grit. Students who  remind me that with just a little extra, we can all be extraordinary. With just a little gumption, we can  be brave enough to tell our story, to better ourselves, our community, and our world. 

But don’t take my word for it. Listen to the words of my current, extraordinary students in a poem I  have written from their responses to an introductory writing assignment on the first day of class: 

Intro to Poetry, Spring 2019 

Like shoelaces, we are tied in knots,  

still hiding behind our moms. 

We come from books and nowhere,  

from the place where  

breath curls inside 

a comma and ambition smells like  

gasoline. The smallest things we carry  

are ego and failure. Trees surround our memories 

of home and laughter, of grass and overalls.  

Out Here On [Our] Own, dreams feel  

slippery, like paper,  

and joy sounds like a bird  

on the wind. We are most inspired  

by tragedy and our mothers. Crowds are outside  

our comfort zone, and white  

has become the scariest  

color. The largest thing we carry is 

doubt—is the weight of the world’s hate.