Last night I was flipping through French's beat-up journal (he takes a lot of pride in this fact) and I found this poem. I try to use these insights, and my on recollections of being a teen; as I teach day to day. Too many teachers seem to have forgotten that they were ever teenagers. It was one of the first ones he wrote
bathe,
yes bathe
in the simmering
hatred
I feel it,
here
in this broken desk
here
in this moldy school
two girls
i dumped
hate me
hate each other
makes me hate this class
by "French" April 1987
Fair enough French - Fair Enough.
2 comments:
'Fair Enough' is right. French has got the eye of a poet. The heart of a poet. The uppercut of a club fighter with one last chance at a something. Long live French!!
Teenage angst is deeper than people think. At least the reactions to it are much more serious than people would want to believe. The acoustic guitar and a harmonica are a warm blanket for a cold soul. Though, getting liquored up and kicking in some pecker's car door can feel pretty darn good too.
HP
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