With Apologies to Poets Everywhere: Struggling to Teach Poetry

I wrote a poem in college that was published in our literary magazine. It was rebellious, in its way, for my small Catholic college. It was about watching the boys (men?) I hung around with wrestle under a tree, and how, inevitably, when the moment became too close to something authentic, one of them would shove the other away, naming the feeling “homo” instead of facing and embracing what they were missing: genuine affection. I was genuinely surprised when it was chosen because I, a non-Catholic on a scholarship, was known for poking and prodding long-held and unquestioned beliefs—all while minoring in theology for fun. I was kind of a pain in the butt. Nevertheless, I wrote poetry then, scribbled in journals or written on scraps of paper and taped to my bedroom walls. 

Every year, as poetry month comes around, I struggle. I want to be better. I really do. I want to make poetry what it was to me in college. What I’ve learned over the years can be found in a bunch of blogs shared here—from 2024’s  “Poetry is Having a Moment, and It Isn’t in April,” to 2018’s “Love, Walt: Love, Simon,” I always long to get teaching poetry right. Yet, here I am, another April, and I feel lousy about the lack of poetry that makes its way into my curriculum. If you feel like I do, let’s make a plan, and stick to it. What am I proposing? A poem a month. That’s it. Here’s what I’m proposing for next year. I’d love your thoughts! 

September

This one is easy. There is no better place to start with poetry than Billy Collins’ “Introduction to Poetry.” Getting students to understand that my goal will not be to ruin poetry for them, as the poem suggests: “They begin beating it with a hose/to find out what it really means.” Freeing students up to experience poetry in their own way is a great strategy to help everyone shed the fear of poetry. 

October

I do a “Spooky October” unit where the main goal is to help students learn about atmosphere, setting, tone and imagery. Edgar Allan Poe’s “Spirits of the Dead,” is a really good way to pull kiddos into the vibe. It fits well with the stories I teach—“The Monkey’s Paw” and “The Landlady,” and it is a good jumping off point for conversation. I delve a bit more into Poe if we have time, as I love to show The Simpson’s Raven episode on Halloween. If you are looking for what to teach, check out Andy Kratochvil’s “What to Teach in October,” and you’ll find an excellent lesson by Sari Beth Rosenberg, “Emma Lazarus: She Gave the Statue of Liberty Its Soul.”

November

Another easy one for me. “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. When I teach The Outsiders later in the year, we will have already experienced the poem a first time through, and when students connect it to the book, magic. As I start to envision this plan, writing it out here, I think I’ll need to go to Canva, make a great visual, laminate it (of course) and maybe simply post it outside my door each month. No conversation initially, just a teaser. I’ve done this with novels before, so I know that it piques their interest. 

December

Though I know it is predictable (at best) or cliched (at worst), I love to teach “Stopping By Woods on A Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. My eighth-graders don’t know this poem, so I can lure them into the simplicity and then ask them if the speaker dies at the end. It’s morbid, but so are eighth-graders, and we’ve had some great conversations trying to interpret symbols and lines of the poem. It’s also a good time to mix things up, and I sometimes teach A Christmas Carol, which would go well with this liminal space between life and death/awake and asleep. I just discovered this amazing 1999 version with Patrick Stewart as Scrooge. 

January

January, to me, is often reflective, not necessarily about a new beginning. After all, I am a teacher whose new year begins in September. January can be a time to take stock, accept where things are, five months into my “new year.” I think students feel the same way. I think I’ll teach “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop. Students can be really hard on themselves, and this poem will help us talk about disappointments. 

February

I hate February. Call it seasonal depression. Call it boredom. Call it a rut. Whatever it is, I hate it, and it is as predictable as the Buffalo snow. This poem by Erin Hanson, “Sadness” is spot on to the feelings, but I love the ending. She writes, “People all yell out ‘save yourself”/ Calling things about happiness and hope/ But they’re too busy with their lives to realise/ It’d be a lot quicker if they let down a rope.” Next year, I’m going to pair this with Brene Brown’s video about empathy. This will be a great way to work in some much needed SEL conversations—for me, as much as my students. 

March

“Dear March” by Emily Dickinson is perfect to teach some literary devices, and I’m going to love doing a little author study. Even if it is just a day or two, I know that my students will be interested in her reclusiveness and melancholy. I also love that she allowed the ambiguous to exist, a nuance I’d love to talk about with my students.