my literary boys

yesterday was the awards assembly at wyatt and seth's school, and during this assembly, The Unfinished Jigsaw for 2010/2011 (an anthology of literary and art work by students from c'ville city schools) was released. the children who have literary or art work chosen to be in the publication are mentioned and presented w/ a copy of the book. well, both collier boys had their work chosen! seth wrote a story, and wyatt a poem. i’m including them below:

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The Fire-Breathing Dragon
by seth collier, grade 1

There was a boy who saw a big, green dragon. The dragon woke up and saw the boy. He got out of the dark cave and chased the boy named Seth. Seth saw a sword and a shield. He picked it up and the dragon breathed fire at Seth. Whoosh! The dragon broke the shield. Seth put the sword up and stabbed the dragon. Uhhhhh! The dragon fell down and died.

Trapped, a haiku
by wyatt collier, grade 3

In the cell with bars
You start to cry for some help
No one comes for you.

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now, if you’re like me, you are delighted by seth's story--so like him to be the hero of a dragon story, ha ha--but you might start freaking out about wyatt’s poem: “wow. such a stark, powerful image. . .but oh no! why does wyatt feel trapped? why does he feel like no one is going to come for him?” because of course this poem surfaced from the depths of his subconsciousness. you might assume that here, in written form, is finally the proof that you are a terrible parent. (unless you are not his parent, in which case you think “oh dear, something has gone terribly wrong with the way miska is parenting her child. here is the proof in written form, published no less.”)

this must be investigated--or "gently explored"--with this 9 year old child. last night as wyatt was playing his new keyboard in his room (he has memorized swan lake, the one-handed version, and we hear it repeatedly), i walked in as nonchalantly as possible and asked him if he would tell me about his poem. he said sure. i asked how it came about and what prompted him to write about being trapped. he told me his class went outside and sat under the covered sidewalk while it rained and wrote their poems and that his friend gave him the idea. “oh, really?” i was still so casual with only a tiny bit of hysteria creeping into my voice. “but do you feel that way, wyatt? like you’re trapped and no one is coming to help you?” (so subtle.)

“huh?” was his initial response. then he looked up at the ceiling to think about it, and said, “hmmm, i don’t think so. . .nah, i don’t feel that way.”

we can only hope, people. we can only hope. that boy is deep and God only knows what goes on inside him.

he was finished with the conversation after that, ready to move on to something else, and i was summarily dismissed from his room.