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My kids and I read poetry daily. They’ve come to love Shel Silverstein and A. A. Milne, and I have found myself taken to William Wordworth.
Over the last couple of years of delving into educational philosophies, I’ve been inspired by the beauty and practicality of exposing children to poetry. I didn’t know it would change me as well.
I don’t know that I would ever choose to sit and read poetry, and so in that way, the habit of reading with my kids is somewhat selfish. There is a bit of reclaiming what I never had for myself – the exposure and saturation of an art form that the right combination of words can make.
It’s the ripple effects of this practice that have been so transformative.
It has changed me because it has forced me to challenge my standard of measurement. If a 3 or 4 year old was not proficient in counting to twenty, or knowing their shapes or colors, some may be concerned. But what would we say if that same 3 or 4 year old loved poetry, or knew the birds in their neighborhood by name? What if they shouted with delight at the sight of a crescent moon or the recognition of a familiar painting?
What could I create if I challenged my own standards of measurements? The expectation of what I am and who I should be, how I should spend my time or invest in my work?
When I’ve challenged these measurements, I found freedom in rethinking what was required to be considered successful. For me, it has looked like changing directions with work after ten years to go after something new, because I know it’s right. Because I know I need to tell the story of family for others, and for myself.
It’s looked like continuing to chase that gut instinct, even when it seems a bit off or not like what anyone else is doing right now.
I want to know – what would that look like for you?
