Original poetry, documenting key revelatory moments in my continuing coming of age story.
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Original Spoken Word By: Hannah Whitley
Things I learned in Kindergarten
I was in kindergarten
Sitting in circles
Barley knowing colors
Looking at chalkboards
Black chalk boards.
And the teacher would pick up that white chalk.
That little white chalk.
That clean white chalk
And hold it in her hand so delicate
Afraid to drop it
It was her tool
It was her asset.
Black board sit in the background
Blank and empty
But broad and vast knowing it could take up the whole classroom if walls weren’t there to stop it.
But nobody was looking at that big black board.
Despite its vastness.
Despite it being the biggest thing in the room.
Everybody was looking at that one piece of white chalk.
Because the teacher chose it.
Picked it up and said it was special.
Now the black board waits.
And watches.
As it is covered in whiteness.
White scribbles that take up the whole board.
Until blackness is no more
And children and me.
Wrote down those white words in our notebooks because she made them worthy to be remembered.
And black board.
Still firm and sturdy
Is the backbone left in the background.
Being forgotten because it’s filled with some else’s words.
despite it being the only thing holding everything together.
And when Teacher picked up that white chalk she was watched by Little eyes with tiny stomachs and hungry minds,
That left that classroom wanting to be that white chalk.
Special and chosen.
Held up high.
And me, black girl, saw that white chalk.
That little white chalk
And wished away my vastness, and, my sturdiness, and my blackness
To be that white chalk,
Just so I could be chosen
I wanted to be loved like you white chalk…