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The cafeteria’s tables and chairs have been swapped for sofas. The cinder-block walls are transformed by vibrant student art. A live band of high-school musicians strums away while the poets at Westwood High School, in New Jersey, prepare to belt out–or slam, as it’s called—tomes of adolescent angst and social outrage. The teenage slammers in this Bohemian-style cafe take on dramatic character voices to poetically joust with one another about troubling relationships, the loss of innocence, and the anxiety of living in a time of war.
Students who no one knew much about before take center stage. Students who brushed aside most of their homework last year now spend hours reaching for the words to describe their experiences. English teacher Sharon Malenda, Ed.M.'00, director of the poetry club, the literary magazine, and school newspaper, says she established the slam series to whet her students' appetites for the written and spoken word and, just as importantly, to help young people nurture their budding sense of self. “One of the reasons I came back to high school is to give kids a place to feel comfortable—to enable them to stand up and be whoever they want to be,” says Malenda. She does this by speaking their language—literally. She keeps current on slang, teaches from literature that reflects her students’ cultural backgrounds, and leads classroom discussions on the poetry of the late hip hop artist Tupac Shakur.
Malenda returned to school for another reason as well. Her mother, a poor Puerto Rican woman coming of age in the 1950’s in New York City’s Spanish Harlem, never received the encouragement she needed from teachers. “She started adulthood at a disadvantage because she was pushed aside and pushed down in school,” Malenda says. To make up for the past’s shortcomings, Malenda approaches her students with both a high regard and high standards. Some teenagers in her class had a history of cursing at teachers and of throwing desks. Nonetheless, on the first day of school this year, Malenda informed her class that she declined to look at a list of students with “behavior problems.” “All I know about you is what you do in front of me from now on; if you treat me with respect, I’ll meet you with respect,” she recalls promising them. This may explain why students who never experienced success in school started to shine under Malenda's tutelage. In just one year, the poetry club has grown from four students to more than 20, with an audience of more than 100 cheering teenagers, parents, and teachers. Ten of Malenda's "lower-tracked" students moved into honors English classes this year. In addition, another student won the American Civil Liberties Union first prize award for a story about her experiences as a person from a biracial background. The recurring payoff, however, comes to Malenda when students focus on their writing long enough to fully develop their ideas—and then set them to flight with vivid, colorful language. “I don’t expect high-school students to thank me,” she says. “But every time they write an insightful, intelligent news story or recite a well-crafted poem, the message comes through loud and clear.” About the Article
HGSE News, Harvard Graduate School of Education
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