- Attie Lime
- Oct 18
- 2 min read
I start my school visits with an assembly, introducing myself and my poetry. Once in class for individual sessions, I ask the children, Who can remember my name? What do I do? Why am I here?
In a school recently, a Year Six child answered, 'You're here to teach us poetry'. I get that answer a lot, and it makes me twitch a bit. I explained that actually, I wasn't. That I have been a teacher, but I was there to have fun with words, and for us to practise using our imaginations together. That I wasn't there to teach them anything, but we might happen to learn things along the way.
It turned out that this was a Year Six class without a strong love of reading (despite the teacher's efforts). Several of them were able to tell me the benefits and joys of reading, and of course I shared my belief that if you don't enjoy it, you haven't found the right book yet.
I only had a short timetabled session with this class, and during that time, the teacher was informed that school was having to close due to a power failure. Parents had been called. She began to quietly tell individual children, who gathered their coats and bags and disappeared. Part-way through my workshop, she apologised to me; she needed to share news of the closure with the whole class.
Now picture the scene: Year 6 have just been told - before 10am - that school is closing! There was great excitement, much chatter, and some cheering. A few slightly befuddled faces as they had a visitor in, didn't they (fittingly, I had performed a poem in assembly with the lines, "We want to go home at half past twelve, but Miss says No!"). A few more children with parents already outside, left the room.
I was right in the middle of the main workshop activity. The teacher quietened them down. Then had to settle them again (school closing unexpectedly IS exciting!) I added my piece - it was just as odd for me, but we should make the most of it - and so, we carried on. To their credit, the remaining children dived right back into the activity and continued to stretch their imaginations and share their ideas, until the end of the session (we could have easily gone on longer).
Did I go in to teach them poetry? No. Did they enjoy the experience, think creatively, and use their imaginations and voices to express themselves? Yes, yes, yes. I have even had a message from a parent about how much their child enjoyed my visit. Praise indeed, given that we had all, in fact, gone home by half past twelve.
