You see, Kid

While working in the preschool, I developed a poem titled Why-Kid that you can find here. I had found that little kids ask a lot of questions, which does not bother me, but one question in particular was always harder to answer than others: why?

After working for over 30 weeks in a preschool setting, I moved to a first grade classroom. This jump in age brought for more complex questions, but that tiny three letter word never went away. Curiosity was always there. Here’s another Kid poem.  Same idea, more grown up concepts.

You see, Kid.

The same exact breath can make a fire glow or blow it out
You see, Kid
Not everything makes sense
And sometimes people will try to blow you out
But you are candle with a self-lighting wick
It might not make sense
And yeah,
Sometimes Ys sound like Es and words are not spelled how they sound
But since you were small you were taught to sound it out like music notes flowed through your ear canals and out of your mouth with grace as a teacher got in your face and said,
“Learn this!
I Promise you’ll use it.”
And you lose it when photograph starts with a PH because you know “PHOTOGRAPH” starts with “fff” and F makes that sound
But Kid,
Welcome to the English language
Sometimes letters lie
Like all those times you claimed to be asleep at night when you snuck a light under your sheets and learned that I comes after E but only after C
Or maybe it was I comes before E but only after C…
You see, Kid
Sometimes things don’t make sense
Like how the same breath can make birthday wishes or produce clouds of smoke
Things smoke when they are hot and things smoke when they are cold
It does not always make sense
There’s a lot of things people will warn you about
Like bears
And tornados
And looking both ways before you cross the street
Sure, those things can be harmful
But Kid,
Remember there’s always another perspective and if someone hasn’t show you it
Then go search for it yourself
You were born a Why-Kid
So keep asking questions
Like why is blue a cool color when it’s the hottest part of the flame?
Why can’t you touch something that can float so delicately?
There are people cutting fire across their wrists in order to understand any of this
But Kid,
Sometimes things just don’t make sense
People don’t always live up to their words
But at least you will know how to spell them
Because you know there are three different ways to spell the sound -er
IR for the times I and Running and Running and Running and need to stop
UR for the times U R asking so many questions I need to slow down and think
ER for the times people wanted to go too fast for their wheels
They should have slowed down
But Kid,
Don’t ever slow down the rate curiosity caresses your desire to know more
You were born a Why-Kid
So keep asking questions
Like why the same breath can be held under water but lost in altitude
Do things that make you hold your breath so you can remember how nice it feels to breath
Blow out your birthday candles and don’t forget that
You are still lit
Even though you know they lied about the tooth fairy
And Santa
And the Easter Bunny too
And you’re not mad
You just want to know why they didn’t tell the truth
Sometimes people will let you down and that’s the truth
Don’t fear your relaxed nature when people tell you
“You have to have a plan”
Some people have a plan for everything
But you should know by now,
Everything does not always make sense
And it’s better to know that than to spell photograph with an F just because it makes more sense
You were not made to sit in contentment
So ask your questions, Kid
Should always
Make sense
Inhale a breath so cool it ignites your inner blue
Because, Kid
I’ve got high, high hopes for you


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s