12:21am Here Comes the Rain

Dear A,

For Julia, In the Deep Water
John N. Morris

The instructor we hire
Because she does not love you
Leads you to the deep water,
The deep end
Where the water is darker--
Her open, encouraging arms
That never get nearer
Are merciless for your sake.

You will dream this water always
Where nothing draws nearer,
Wasting your valuable breath
You will scream for your mother--
Only your mother is drowning
Forever in the thin air
Down at the deep end. 
She is doing nothing,
She never did anything harder. 
And I am beside her.

I am beside her in this imagination.
We are waiting
Where the water is darker. 
You are over your head,
Screaming, you are learning
You way toward us,
You are learning how
In the helpless water
It is with our skill 
We live in what kills us. 

This was one of the poems we spent time analyzing during my workshop tonight. It's one I've read before, and love very much. I think I am drawn to it for two reasons:

1. I love the literal meaning: the swimming lesson. It's one I can relate to because I remember very vividly learning how to swim at the YMCA and at first being terrified, especially of the deep water, and calling out for my mother who could not help me. But soon, I learned how to keep my head up, how to move my arms and legs so that I could stay afloat, and before long I was the strongest swimmer in my class. Which brings me to the second reason why I am drawn to this poem:

2. Its figurative meaning and message is one that I think a lot of parents and teachers (or anyone in any type of profession where they are trying to help strugglers succeed) forget in the moment. So often we see kids struggle and our immediate reaction is to step in and show them what to do and how to do it. We want to save them from the fear and embarrassment of failure, all the while forgetting that it is that failure that will ultimately teach them how to swim.

I was reminded tonight of the importance of not knowing, of asking questions and being confused and coming to understanding on my own terms instead of having someone tell me what the "right" answer is. I want my kids to question themselves, the text they read and what I, as the teacher, may tell them. I want them to challenge each other to jump into the deep end, to flounder around in uncertainty until, gradually, or perhaps all at once, they find themselves able to float.

Love, M