Slam Poet Opens Highland Hearts and Minds
by Megan Catherwood
When 2014 National Poetry Slam champion Clint Smith came to Highland School last month, his greatest connection with students may well have been on the subject of silence. The spoken word poet and activist probed the dangers of “things that are left unsaid” and in doing so, encouraged his young listeners to develop their own courageous voices.
Student attire may have been casual on that dress down day in early February; student engagement was anything but. He’s a powerful stage presence. Inventive phrasing, combined with his truthfulness about personal and civic responsibilities, appealed to middle and upper grade level learners.
Smith’s poems explore a range of hard topics, from urban food deserts (Place Matters) and “the way African American children must categorically be raised differently just to remain safe” (How to Raise a Black Son in America), to how “what you want to be or do may be different than what your parents, teachers the world want for you.” (Becoming a Superhero).
In slam poetry performances, poets either read or recite original work. They are usually judged by selected members of the audience or by a panel of judges.
Senior Savannah Birchall Clayton, who attended the high school assembly, said she understands why Smith’s two talks, “The Danger of Silence” and “How to Raise a Black Son in America,” have had more than four million views.
“He shared with our school the amazing impact that one man’s voice truly can have,” she said. “He has garnered a lot of respect from people, including myself, not just for his skills as a poet, but also for the conviction with which he speaks about inequalities.”
Smith, a 27-year-old teacher, writer and Harvard doctoral candidate, is an increasingly important contributor to national conversations about justice. Following his presentations at Highland, Smith performed at the Verizon Center as part of Teach for America’s 25th Anniversary Summit. Days later, his second article was published in The New Yorker. “The Meaning of Life without Parole” (Feb. 8 issue) is an extension of his studies of mass incarceration, race and inequality.
“Silence,” Smith said, “is the residue of fear.”
In his poem on the topic, he said that growing up, “I told myself I wasn’t meant to be anyone’s conscience because I still had to figure out being my own, so sometimes I just wouldn’t say anything.”
The theme was explored in Highland’s Social Justice seminar.
“Sometimes it’s really, really important to take responsibility for saying something — otherwise we are perpetuating biases and prejudices if we don’t check injustices when and where they happen,” he told the class. “These are hard things to do — to speak up.”
One student asked him if human nature or external influences created bias. “I don’t think we are inherently prejudiced,” Smith responded. “We need to ask ourselves, ‘what have I been taught by the world?’ We all carry biases and prejudices…Be cognizant of what yours are, and let that shape your actions moving forward.”
The discussion shifted to public policy and “the societal structures that contribute to who is systemically left out.” Smith encouraged empirical understanding and proof, citing his own research of over-incarceration and education in prison.
“You are 43 per cent less likely to (go back to prison) if you go through an education or vocational program while in prison,” said Smith, who also teaches inmates. “Yet with the prison population increasing by 50% over the last 35 years,” Smith explained, “there is less opportunity to educate and rehabilitate.”
Smith’s ability to connect with young people has been recognized by the Maryland Humanities Council, which named him the Christine D. Sarbanes Teacher of the Year following the three years he taught high school English in Prince George’s County through Teach for America.
During his own senior year of high school, Smith and his family had to relocate from New Orleans to Houston when Hurricane Katrina hit. A soccer recruit, Smith earned his bachelor’s degree in English from Davidson College in 2010.
“I was never very performance oriented until the night I ended up at Nuyorican Poets Café,” he said of the spoken-word hub on New York’s lower East Side. From that moment on, he added, he worked to merge his creative voice and conscience.
Smith’s art is born of an oral tradition, yet more than ears are opened, as Highland’s students learned. Eyes, hearts and minds are awakened and — in slam poetry style —fingers set to snapping in applause for his message and the commanding style of its delivery.