Writing is hard.  Teaching writing is harder. And every once in a while the effort of teaching writing and supporting and inspiring writers comes together in ways that make your heart sing and tears flow.

I had one of those moments yesterday.

The first, second, and third grade bloggers were hard at work in our classroom.  The room was filled with the productive hum of writers at work.  I moved around the room, helping with inserting youtube links to the digital stories we had created, troubleshooting technical issues, and helping those emerging writers get their ideas pinned to the digital page.

One of my students called me over, asking for help with a formatting issue.  And that’s when I noticed the poem.  “Where is the poem from?” I wondered.  “I wrote it,” he replied.  “Will you read it to me?” I asked.  And he did.

Stars

A poem

Two stars diverge sending each other down to earth like eagles mating, gripping each other so hard that before they descend and hit the ground they turn into dust. As all the stars shine and shimmer with a shine so big it blinds eyes.

The portal of time, a hole, may it be a dimension to another world? Might it have different forms of life? Or does it hold the keys to the past as you turn the engine?

May it be a beach of darkness or is it truly where your body is when you pass away.

Still a star inside, you shine, a star big enough to fill this sad place with colors and light up the world.

Are all the stars just a puzzle or are they illusions that move and move as you play the game, the game of life?

I have loved watching this writer go from a reluctant and troubled writer to a creative, confident, and willing writer over the three years in our class.  Writers don’t follow easy, uncluttered pathways, instead, like stars and diamonds they emerge from from pressure and heat and time and the tumultuous intricacies of the universe.  I am so lucky to spend three years with my students, it often takes that long for writers to emerge–finding both confidence and voice as writing instruction, practice, and a supportive writing community come together over time.

I’m still thinking about Brit’s poem…great writing does that.  It ignites a fire in the reader, kindled by the writer.  It’s burning bright and hot.

You might want to stop by Brit’s blog and leave a comment.  I know I will.