A Dream Deferred?

Phoebe came to observe my class today. I nearly got in trouble when the administration realized I had a visitor. Apparently, they needed to confirm I didn’t bring a date to school. I can’t possibly think of a less romantic thing than to bring a date to my classroom. Certainly, I wouldn’t do so if I was looking to impress someone.

Fortunately, my classroom was impressive this morning; my students were so spot on, even I was impressed. Though I had planned a lot for the day, at the last minute I decided to slow it down to have the students savor every morsel of Langston Hughes’s “Dream Deferred.”

Dream Deferred
Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

The plan was originally to look at it for, oh, ten minutes tops, but I decided to have us analyze each and every simile, tearing apart the connotations, symbols, and connections. The students had been groaning that poetry was boring, simple, and meaningless, so I decided it was time to model how that while a poem may be short, it can still be ripe with meaning. Much to my elation, the students definitely got it; not only did they get it, but they got it at a level exceeding my expectations and sometimes even my own understanding of the poem.

To wrap up the poem, I had the kids write their own simile-question that could be seamlessly inserted into the poem. “Does it crash and then disappear like the tide on the shore?” “Does it grind to a halt like the gears of an ancient clock?” These kids wrote some beautiful, insightful things that their fellow students were just as eager to dissect and determine the deeper meaning. As I ice-skated around the room (yes, I pretty much ice-skated, so giddy was I that I slid my feet on the floor to maneuver around the desks) to check their work, I noticed that my new favorite student had the best answer of all: “Is it like a baby in a dumpster?” A baby in a dumpster is totally a dream deferred.

I told Phoebe that for the sake of her project it would only be fair to have her come back to a class when I’m screaming at the top of my lungs and accomplishing nothing for two hours. If only days like this one could be the norm rather than the exception, I’d be committed to this profession for life. I was so glad I was able to share that experience with someone I care about like Phoebe. She was nothing but complimentary at the end of the experience. Normally I’m dismissive of such praise as I have no confidence in myself, but I was completely willing to accept it for once since the class went so amazingly that it shook me to the core. I just wish I could feel more certain that I wasn’t deferring other dreams in order to make this one work.