A very special “thank you” to the educators who hosted this January’s Open Write out of pure generosity. We deeply appreciate our volunteer hosts and the care they take in responding to our poems. Thank you, Shaun, Gayle, Glenda, Erica, and Jessica. Please join us February 15-19 with Donnetta, Stacey, Britt, Amber, and Seana! Also, we’d love for you to contribute a blog post about special moments you’ve had with Ethical ELA friends, activities you’ve used in your classroom, or just general sentiments and experiences about ethical aspects of teaching to celebrate our 10th year with Ethical ELA. Sign up here.
Our Host: Jessica Sherburn
Jessica lives in Chicago where she teaches 12th grade English and hosts Poetry Club at Mather High School. She served as a Representative-at-Large within the Michigan Council of Teachers of English and Teacher Advisory Group Member for the Zekelman Holocaust Memorial Center. In addition to writing, Jessica enjoys hiking, kayaking, and penning sarcastic quips. She is a proud mother to two cats, Ollie and Davie, who enjoy long naps and spilling mugs of black tea.
Inspiration
January is a time for self-reflection, goal-setting, and aspirational thinking–especially in a presidential inauguration year. One poem that I return to again and again is Martín Espada’s “Imagine the Angels of Bread.” Espada writes about an imagined world of empowerment and equity with powerful imagery, similes, and metaphors. The poem begins:
This is the year that squatters evict landlords,
gazing like admirals from the rail
of the roofdeck
or levitating hands in praise
of steam in the shower;
this is the year that shawled refugees deport judges,
who stare at the floor
and their swollen feet
as files are stamped
with their destination.
Process
Make a list of the changes you would like to see in yourself, community, country, or world in 2025. What would a radical reimagining of empowerment and equity look like to you? Consider borrowing Espada’s structure as you draft your poem:
- Line 1: This is the year that _______ (your hope or aspiration comes to fruition)
- Lines 2-5: Provide a concrete description of what this would mean, using imagery (descriptions of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touch) or similes and metaphors.
Repeat this structure as needed for any additional stanzas. Or, write whatever else comes to mind when you imagine the possibilities of a better world!
Jessica’s Poem
Invest in the Promises of our Future
by Jessica Sherburn
This is the year that schools are funded,
that the teacher supply rooms brim with notebooks, pencils, and folders
and the libraries are staffed with kind-hearted professionals
who stuff the shelves with novels and magazines and poetry and manga
without fear of accusations and vilifications.
This is the year when we invest in the promises of our future
rather than the corruptions of our past.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.
If the National Writing Project
began as a vision of public
education with criticality,
self-efficacy, and joy in writing
in schools across the country,
then this is the year.
If the Social Justice Standards
began as an imagination of lesson plans
grounded in empathy & compassion,
naming harm & acting toward
healing, lessons from our lives centered,
then this is the year.
If every revolution begins with teachers,
taking up pens and keyboards,
then this is the year we teach cursive
so that our students will scribble
their names on humanizing executive
orders some day in front of America;
then this is the year we center
the poetry and art of every state and country
to resist erasure of the diversity that is us;
then this is the year our students write
books to refill our classroom libraries
dreaming more just futures;
then this is the year we partner with students–
co-research worker health and safety,
explore conscientious objectors as an option,
define diaspora, locate West Bank, ask “affordable” to whom;
yes this is the year we unpack
every 1-4-0-XX as a powerful
genre someone imagined, crafted,
published, and signed. Not unlike
Apartheid, Nuremberg, Hutu Ten.
So may every writing teacher out there,
poets in all your being,
uncover writing as never neutral,
writing as able to leverage revolution;
fill the pages of lesson plans
with poetic lessons that imagine tomorrow—
a year that I am, frankly, afraid to imagine today.
Jessica, I am awed by the mentor text you shared – incredible imagery. And oh, does your own poem ever echo the teacher’s lament…I have just been asked to create an experience for a select group of students at school, without any resources or offer of funding. I will have to press for this or sell te family cow for a handful magic beans – except that there is no family cow. More on this later…I so wanted to write something grand and glorious and rich today, maybe something comforting and healing…and it would not come. I will keep thinking on it and sifting through the desire of my heart. In the meantime, here is the only little seed I could produce. Thank you for the gift of your words and this invitation.
Imagine
This is the year
that we say
I love you
anyway.
Fran, this IS something grand and glorious and rich. There is so much power in the three simple words I Love You…..and then the word that changes it all: anyway. To forgive, to press on with our arms around someone despite whatever happened to make us want to not embrace them. I am intrigued by the experience for the group of students and the quest for the magic beans.
Jessica,
Thank you so much for a prompt that gets us looking forward while also looking back so we can see the things we hope to happen. Your mentor poems brevity holds its power and I really love the
I fell into revisionist history. Our son tells me I look on times past with too much nostalgia and see things with rose-colored glasses. And, I realize that the things I write about certainly weren’t and aren’t all people’s reality or desire. But, it is MY dream of what this year will hold.
This Is the Year
This is the year that parenting returns,
real parenting laced with wisdom
and firmness and love.
Andy Griffith and Ward Cleaver
Mike Brady and Steven Keaton
(Clark Huxtable was a heckuva dad
even though the man playing him
ended up being deplorable.)
This is the year that family life returns,
real family life filled with time
and tradition and boredom.
Board games and bedtime stories
Dinners at the table and Sundays at Grandma’s
(Dad’s Saturday golf game
or Mom’s card club never seemed selfish . . .
kids’ activities didn’t dictate the calendar.)
This is the year that worship returns,
real worship of our God and Creator complete with humility
and hope and forgiveness
Church attendance and Sunday school
Bedtime prayers and Bible verses
(Time in the pews being quiet
and stifling impulsive behavior and pretending to listen and care
until we really do.)
This is the year that contentment returns,
contentment replete with safety
and peace of mind and “anxious” means “I can’t wait.”
Playing in the park and lounging on the couch
Filling up coloring books and gobbling up books
(Schools return to paper and pencil,
gorgeous cursive writing, mastered multiplication facts,
and respect, with elders deserving of it.)
This is the year to return to practices that seem outdated
but a time when families were whole
and so were the people in them.
~Susan Ahlbrand
22 January 2025
Oh, you pack a punch today! A good punch of truth and need. That last line got me – – how true it rings! And pretending to listen and care until we really do is captivating, too. And it really does work – – because 3 years ago, my One Little Word was Listen. I wanted to do it better, so I chose it as my word. What I found was that I bit my tongue so many times when I remembered that this was my word. I opened my ears instead of my mouth, and it was a year of discovery. I did listen. And I cared more because of it. There is so much truth in your words today – I found myself going back in time, grateful for the years of growing up without a device.
Jessica, the writing prompts this week have been cathartic, allowing us to move through and forward while offering the hope that feels stolen. It is so good to end our five days together with writing that allows us to grasp onto that hope. Thank you for giving us a focus, for sharing your words on futures filled with fully stocked schools and libraries. I stumbled across the sound of a Celtic wind instrument used to rouse troops to battle and its haunting tones linger.
This is the year that bishops woman up
And Doug doesn’t shake the hand
TeenVogue and RollingStone outjournal the journalists
And all women flight crews carry queens home
Canada trolls US by renaming the Great Lakes
To Stay on Your Own Side Lakes
Pam Hemphill and Germany stand side by side
Showing us how to learn from the past
And reject pardons and fascist billionaires
to know a crime is a crime
This is the year of the second coming
When the best are full of passionate intensity
The is the year I no longer give a F#@%
The year that women are heard
Speaking truth to power
The Carnyx of our battle
Jennifer, I love it all – the Great Lakes renaming, the learning from the past, the all women flight crews – – this is a powerful poem, filled with all the great things a year can hold. It takes the form, in my mind, of those pictorials at the end of a year where you see snapshots of moments in time that happened from January to December. I can see each one of your lines like that, and I’m laughing at one in particular wondering what your facial expression would be in that photo! I love how you made it seeable through vivid imagery.
Jessica, thank you for hosting us today! Oh, how I love this poetry prompt – – especially for January. I can see how it could be used at the start of a year, a month, a week, a day, an hour. Your positive outlook on education and all that we hope the year holds is uplifting. Thank you, and all of this week’s hosts, for investing in us as writers with inspirational prompts.
Enough!
this is the year that
my one little word, enough,
takes on new meaning
helps guide decisions
about life, work, and spending
I need just enough
Kim, enough could not be more appropriate for this year. Pondering the questions surrounding this word: What is enough? What is just enough? When is enough, enough? When is it just enough? I know, I know. Enough already. The world needs the sigh behind enough, the gentle exhale that comes from knowing.
Kim, I love your OLW, “enough.” I believe in the philosophy behind it – the need to simplify, to free oneself from unnecessary things and burdens. In essence, traveling lighter. I remember my grandfather speaking of times past: people had so little but they were happier. People pulled together to help each other. I don’t desire deprivation, but I long for that unity and sense of common purpose.
Jessica–oh, if only this were true! Your poem represents every wish we ever had as teachers. There is a joy implicit in it, and hope, and realism.
I have been absent from the group this week. We have been waiting for the results of my husband’s biopsy as I was also getting ready for a new semester at college. Well, the phone call came, and it’s the diagnosis we both expected and dreaded.
This poem wrote itself.
This is the Year
This was going to be the year that
I would take care of myself a little more–
Take some small trips
Lose that ten pounds again
Get some massages
Join a book group.
Have lunches.
Enjoy my interns, help them grow.
This was going to be the year that
We celebrated family
New grandson on the way
Three-year-old drama queen to marvel at
Dogs and cats wrestling and loving us
Joy.
All that changed with one phone call. Now…
This will be the year that we fight my husband’s cancer.
Again
Doctor’s appointments
Surgery plans
Organizing medicine bottles
Chemo, radiation
Worrying
Losing sleep
Advocating, advocating, advocating
Because he can’t and because he never has
Pain
Tears
Hope
Fear
We’ve been down this road before.
I know how to do it.
I know that I can do it.
I’m good at this.
This will be the year that I become a caretaker again
The rest will have to fit itself in somewhere
The joys of being a grandmother
The job that I love
The dogsandthecatsandthehouseandeverythingelseittakestolive,
This will be the year that I have to remember how to be strong. Again.
This will be the year I had hoped would never happen.
This will be the year.
GJSands
1/22/25
Gayle, I am so sorry to hear this news. Your poem captures the one phone call and how life can shift in the matter of a few seconds. Your line breaks truly add so much to this poem, especially the news in the middle on its own line and the way you smashedallthewordstogether in the stanza near the end with all the things. It shows the doing, doing, and doing of handling matters with hardly a breath for yourself. And the first and last lines has one holding far different plans, one holding the plan that you hoped would not happen. My prayers are with you and your husband as you fight this together.
Gayle, several things stand out to me in reading (and rereading) alongside you today. The power behind the word we (we fight my husband’s cancer) and the strength in togetherness. The knowing how to do something that shouldn’t need knowing, the becoming good at it when it shouldn’t have to be. The long string of all it takes to live and the full on ramification of it all. The reminder that you are strong and it doesn’t require remembering to start that road again because you are you. And that final line, sitting all by itself, the deep resignation that sits inside it, but more importantly, the “I’ve got this” that comes through. Hugs to all of you. Prayers to all of you. Strength to all of you.
Good Morning Writers, By day 5 of Open Write I’ve got my routine down to be able to free write in my notebook and then turn to the keyboard. Thanks for helping me get my groove back at least for this week.
Jessica, this prompt is fantastic! It cannot help but to nudge the writer toward aspirations and goals. I love that! I dream of libraries fully staffed with books that kids want to read and space to learn! Chef’s kiss to your poem…especially ” without fear of accusations and vilifications”
Here’s my drafty draft. With thanks again for a great writing time!
This is the year that children put anxiety to bed
tucked in with a full belly, in a safe home
a loving goodnight, luv.
The closet door is closed
there is a night light
glass of water
warm, fluffy blanket and pillow.
We know that in the morning
Grownups will make breakfast
standing in the kitchen
flipping pancakes,
squeezing fruit juice
as anxiety climbs into a chair
to watch how to take
care of a person
from the first moment
of each day.
Anxiety will grow so fat
on routine nurturing
it will change its name
to calm.
Linda, I want to be in that kitchen, smelling the pancakes and sitting in the chair watching how to take care. I need to relearn that part all over again from scratch. That is one beckoning kitchen, so inviting I can smell the pancakes. Yes, yes, I want us to all be able to call anxiety calm. You have just the right idea for both our physical and mental health to have a better year.
Linda, the gentleness and care conveyed throughout your poem, the looking out for and the nurturing, the attention to all that lessens fear, allowed me respite to find some calm this morning. I’m closing the closet door and cozying in with a blanket on another school day off from freezing temps. I just need a grownup to make me breakfast. What a beautiful way to begin the day.