At first my classes complained
they couldn't understand you,
your speech was foreign
language to their educated eyes.
But, as chapters peeled away,
the gold of your soul emerged
like moonlight in fog and words
like "loyalty and "goodness"
appeared in my room and
they were speaking about you,
Jim. Each school year I loved you
more and some nights I'd lie
awake wishing I could dive
into the pages and join you
and Huck on the raft floating
like a magnolia on the Mississippi,
away from the trash of hatred
on shore that makes us slaves
to ourselves. You soared above
dukes and kings and, by the end
of Chapter 43, we learned
who Huck's real father was, learned
how love shines through any syntax
and warms the deep waters
of our hearts. Long after I leave
Room 115 I'll still see you
steering through Missouri nights,
letting Huck sleep, standing tall
and noble, the brightest star
in the river's mirror of sky.

From Dream Teaching (Grayson Books).
Used with the author's permission.