A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
Robert Frost
America is only in week two of the stay-home phase of coronavirus mitigation and we’ve been inundated with tips and videos about the “fun” and “educational” things that families can do together once the kids’ homework has been finished. One viewer spoke for millions of weary parents across the country when she tweeted to Jimmy Fallon of “The Tonight Show” that she was already considering expelling her children from homeschool.
She was being facetious, of course, but her point is well-taken: Families need constructive ways to deal with angst and loneliness.
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“We’re now officially in a pandemic,” says Eric Klinenberg, a New York University sociologist who is an expert on social isolation. “But we’ve also entered a new period of social pain. There’s going to be a level of social suffering related to isolation and the cost of social distancing that very few people are discussing yet.”
One of the best ways to deal with anxiety – whether it’s yours or society’s – is to write a poem about it. It’s probably been a while since you’ve tried your hand at poetry. For me, it was 10th grade, when a certain girl turned down my invitation to a dance. I took out my heartache in meter and rhyme. It wasn’t very good (alright, it stunk), but it made me feel better.
Even if you don’t have a volume of William Butler Yeats or Langston Hughes on your nightstand – even if you don’t know a sonnet from a haiku – you can encourage your kids to try dealing with their emotions by reading and writing poetry. And maybe take a shot at it yourself in between responding to your boss’s emails and CNN viewings where your hope for good news goes unanswered.
Need help getting started on this poetry thing? Check out the website of one my favorite charities, DC SCORES, a group that offers at-risk kids in the Washington, D.C. area after-school soccer and academic enrichment opportunities. One of those opportunities is for kids to immerse themselves in the joys of poetry, which a lot of them, not surprisingly, resist. So, the way to persuade kids to get into poetry is by conditioning soccer games on it. No poetry study and “slams,” no soccer practice or games.
It’s worked so beautifully that over 3,000 local kids are enrolled in DC SCORES, with another 12,000 participating in affiliate America SCORES programs around North America.
Now, given the coronavirus isolation, DC SCORES has taken their poetry initiative into the digital world. Here’s how DC SCORES is giving kids and their families a poetry outlet during The Big Pause (which kind of has a poetic ring to it, doesn’t it?).
In its new initiative, #SCORESatHome, DC SCORES will upload new content daily – interactive exercises connected to its core program elements of soccer and poetry, video tips from SCORES coaches, and live, online program sessions – to continue its mission of providing a supportive team for every D.C. child who needs one. DC SCORES is also partnering with local businesses and celebrities, including soccer star Joanna Lohman, to launch the #AtHomePoetryChallenge, where kids and adults alike can write and share their poems with the Twitterverse.
Coming soon: an online poetry slam, featuring DC SCORES kids, alumni, and professional spoken word artists. SCORES even provides viewing content: it featured in a recent documentary movie, which parents and kids can add to their streaming queues.
Want more information? Contact America SCORES’ Head of Content and DC SCORES’ Director of Communications, Michael Holstein.
What will come of your family’s poetry collaboration? Well, maybe if you’ve got a prodigy at home, something like this.
A young woman named A’dora Willis who’s now at Bowie State University in Maryland studying to become a nurse practitioner, was, in her junior high and high school days, one of DC SCORES’ poetry slam champions.
Composed years before anyone had heard of COVID-19, here’s the opening stanza to A’dora’s award winning poem, “Our Words, Our City.”
Sometimes I wish I could hit rewind. Moonwalk that yellow brick road. Go back in time and, Be a kid again Cuz
It’s like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under Uh uh uh under.
A lot of us enduring The Big Pause are wondering how we’re going to keep from going Uh uh uh under. Maybe if we address our fears through poetry it’ll help our loved ones stay afloat.
Robert Frost, meet A’dora Willis. Let’s all get through this together.
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Richard Levick, Esq., @richardlevick, is Chairman and CEO of LEVICK. He is a frequent television, radio, online, and print commentator.
