21 February, 1997.
The end of a residency, my host family, Sharon and Bob Nose brought me to the airport. The two weeks flew by fast—we had an assembly Friday and I was interviewed by the Laurel newspaper. The reporter was very sympathetic, also dyslexic, so I wasn’t worried about trying to convince her of the value of poetry. I hope I don’t regret it.
I’ve had an action-packed two weeks! The kids were revising their poems all day long, and they were shouting their poems in the hallways and hamming it up. Many students read at my reading at Writer’s Voices , at Barnes & Noble in Billings—they were pros. Most of the kids froze up, and read traditionally, but I could see all the coaching had paid off. They were trying to remember all my instructions. Look up, get audience attention, enunciate, volume modulation, tone, pace, etc.
We were supposed to have two kids per class read, that’s 20 kids – it was more like 45 kids. Hannah was last, reciting the poem to her mother called She. It brought tears to my eyes. It brought down the house. The fifth graders mobbed the reporter, telling her what poetry is. I also had to prepare three packets of poems for the Montana Arts Council, the school, and a selection for the newspaper. It was a surprise to see Lee Evans, a friend from Napa, she’s going to college in Missoula to study with Bill Knott, and the Richard Hugo school of poetry.
I had a wonderful time teaching, but I’m also looking forward to going home. I didn’t get to Little Big Horn, or Greasy Grass, but I could see the sweetgrass in the distance, shining like an inland sea. Nor did I get a chance to ski but now I have poetry family in this part of the world. Teaching in another place irrevocably changes you.
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