"Time goes by, love flies blind"

That's the refrain one of my students invented for a group-written bop-style poem they've tentatively titled "The Problem of Time and Romance."

Do you see why I adore this class?

I showed them a sample--Afaa Weaver's "Rambling." I asked them to figure out the form, which I told them had a line-number and problem-solving basis rather than a rhyme, rhythm, or heavily repetitious one. Within five minutes they'd come up with an answer. They brainstormed a topic. Then they broke into groups and constructed a complex, wistful draft, punctuated by that gorgeous refrain.

Spending time with these kids is like working in a Laboratory of Ideal Poetry Experimentation. They are willing to try anything. When my experiments tank, they suggest fixes. They are both effervescent and deeply serious. They love to figure stuff out but they also love the casual instinctive motions of their minds. They work well in groups; they work well alone. They talk about scary, terrible issues, and they gleefully play silly improv games.

Yesterday one student brought cupcakes to share--for no apparent reason, yet it seemed like a bit of celebration. We'd reached our tenth session of the year; we were meeting again after our first taste of public performance. There's a giddiness in this class: they walk off the bus into our workroom, greeting one another, reigniting their camaraderie; find their common communal reckless joy in getting ready for whatever the hell they're going to be doing today. Their wildness bubbles up.

In the afternoon, while the groups were clustered in various rooms of the house, working on their bop stanzas, one boy came downstairs. "Can I ask you a question?" he said.

"Sure," I responded, assuming that he wanted to talk about the stanza he was involved in. But no.

He wanted to know "Can I come back again next year? Can I come back for Season 2?"

I had to say I wasn't sure. I told him it was a pilot program, that none of the funders and administrators and teachers had yet started a conversation about how to handle next year. But I told him to tell his teachers and his principal how he felt, to make his hopes clear to the decision makers. There are arguments for and against his wishes. A whole new cohort would spread the program to the largest number of students. A cohort of returning students would create an emotional and artistic haven for young people in deep need of it. I'm torn about which option is better. I wish we could do both.