Taylor Mali has become a voice that speaks for teachers. He is a National Poetry Slam Winner where his material derives from his work in the classroom. He also was literally the “voice over” for a U.S. Department of Education commercial campaign that celebrated the courage, creativity, and promise of teaching as a career.

A former long-time teacher, Mali now calls himself a “teacher-poet.” His best known poem – What Teachers Make – became a viral YouTube classic (see below) that teachers across the world sent to each other because it honored the dignity of teaching as a profession at a time when many teachers feel undermined and underappreciated by the larger society.

The premise of the poem is that Mali meets a lawyer at a party who condescendingly observes that “anybody can teach.”  In the poem, Mali strikes back with words teachers wish they can summon for such times. As he told NPR in an interview, “He insulted me and the entire teaching profession by saying that anyone who wanted to be a teacher essentially didn’t have the intellectual capacity to be allowed to be one,” Mali recalls. “And then he probably did ask me what my annual salary was and I probably looked down at my shoes and said $27,500. And so, it was probably a week or two later that I wrote the comeuppance that I wish I had been witty enough to deliver that night.”

As Kevin Hodgson wrote in his reflection on Taylor’s poem, “I’ve shared Mali’s poem with other educators in many professional development sessions, and I’ve given the poem as a gift to colleagues. With its defiant tone, the poem becomes a token of solidarity…”

Read Kevin’s reflection and Taylor’s poem (below) and you’ll feel the powerful message that teachers do indeed make a difference!

Be sure to watch Taylor Mali recite the poem that inspires Kevin Hodgson and countless other teachers and Kevin’s video about writing his reflection for Teaching with Heart. youtu.be/RoqTxwdnsi0!  .

Kevin Hodgson’s Reflection

A few times a year, I play poker with a group of lawyers, business owners, federal
government employees, and software developers. Not long ago, one of them
turned to me and asked, “So, what’s it like to be a public school teacher?”

The question was asked innocently enough, but the emphasis on “public” and
the unspoken meaning—”Why would anyone be a public school teacher?”—threw
me off balance. I would have loved to have had the wit of poet Taylor Mali and
launched into a ferocious comeback worthy of his poem “What Teachers Make.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I gave a passionate defense of the impact I have on the lives of young
people, every single day, and then proceeded to win a few rounds of cards. Still, I
could hear Mali’s poem ringing in my ear.

I’ve shared Mali’s poem with other educators in many professional development
sessions, and I’ve given the poem as a gift to colleagues. With its defiant
tone, the poem becomes a token of solidarity, and I am reminded of a quote from
Charlie Parker that I use as the tagline for my blog: “If you don’t live it, it won’t
come out of your horn.”2 The poem resonates with a similar message: as educators, we need to be proud of what we do and boldly confront misconceptions that surround us.

It’s almost as important as the work we do each and every day in the classroom.

—Kevin Hodgson
Elementary School Teacher
Southampton, Massachusetts

“What Teachers Make”

He says the problem with teachers is
What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life
was to become a teacher?
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true
what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite conversation.

I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor.
Be honest. What do you make?

And I wish he hadn’t done that— asked me to be honest—
because, you see, I have this policy about honesty and ass-­‐kicking:
if you ask for it, then I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor
and an A-­‐ feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time
with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won’t I let you go to the bathroom?
Because you’re bored.
And you don’t really have to go to the bathroom, do you?
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
Hi. This is Mr. Mali. I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something your son said today.
To the biggest bully in the grade, he said,
“Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?
It’s no big deal.”
And that was noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math
and hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you’ve got this,
then you follow this,
and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this.
Here, let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
Teachers make a goddamn difference! Now what about you?

— Taylor Mali

 

 

 

 

 

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