So I think my favorite thing about being a teacher is the constant element of surprise. On Thursday, which is our poetry day, I laid out about twenty of my favorite books of poetry and every student had take one, find a poem they liked and share it with the class. There was a wide range, from Rumi to the Brownings to the Harlem Renaissance Poets. My favorite poet is Lucille Clifton, and every time we do this exercise her book gets passed around and giggled at because she writes about menstruation and breasts and penises and all manner of stuff. But everything she says is so true and undeniable. So I see Colin, who is only thirteen and quite twerpish, sit down with Lucille and I almost take it away from him because I can't stand the idea of a thirteen year old white male putting down a seventy year old African American woman. But I just walk away and let him do his thing.

Half an hour later we all gather to share our poems and when it gets to be Colin's turn he simple says "I really like Lucille Clifton" without a hint of his usual snark and proceeds to read Why Some People Be Mad At Me Sometimes. The room gets really silent and then all the students, those little jerks who give Colin such a (deservedly) hard time, say "Wow. I really really like that. Will you read it again?"

It's moments like that when I realize that my small salary is aptly supplemented.