Updated 6/2/2025
“Jasmine, Jazz…. Jazzy – Jazz…”, Mr Paul sounded with gum showing, widened mouth exposing, heart opening smile. As he widened his smile he lifted his step, nearly pleading with young Jazz to reciprocate his kind gestures greeting.
His voice pried her attention upward, she looked towards him as she raised her crown from the desk that her forehead began resting atop while leaning forward slovenly, hair dangling over her forearm. Jasmine looked up, she appeased Mr. Paul by looking in his direction and he began to speak.
“Jazz, I want to get more -depth from your writing today.” Mr. Paul offered these words plainly but with enough intonation that Jasmine felt his earnestness.
Most noticeable was his enunciated-“depth”. He had a universe of faith in her potential, as a young person, he felt that she wore her good character wherever she went, despite the clothing apparel she wore, her character was shining.
He was also wildly impressed how well she could learn the concepts of alliteration, simile and easily incorporate metaphors in her daily writing ever since he introduced the concept. She knew Mr. Paul cared and this was far more than she could say about so many of the adults who came into the facility where she reluctantly called home. Home was something Jasmine would ponder often; at night she’d wonder if home was a concept similar to family. These were different and often difficult terms to grasp. In the lexicon of young Jasmine there were words she knew, understood but also contextualized as her own life experiences gave her a unique lens with her own definitions.
“Jazz??…”, Mr. Paul said while leaning down.
…… “yes, yes…. …. I’m here….
…..I am just thinking, Mr. Paul. I am going to do my best.” Jasmine looked up with exasperated eyes, seeking care, sympathy and full support from this man on this particular day. She loved when Mr. Paul visited and she wanted nothing more than to have his full attention for the duration of the class.
(9/25/2024)
Jazz leans forward…
Jasmine begins writing a poem, she almost pauses hesitating for a flash and then she proceeds to write. Her head leans forward, forearm & the curve of her elbow holds her weight on the desk’s surface as Jasmine writes;
“Never Forget….”
Then, the words poured out of her grey bodied, black tipped pen….
“…. Never forget, no matter what happens….
No matter where I am ….
Please, I insist …. You …….
You must know…. Feel my insistence ….
Always know…. Always…. Feel.
Remember and keep the feeling alive….
Know …. Within you.
How much I love you…. How much I need you. … ….”
She leans back, she’s now feeling somewhat shaken and surprised.
Exhales, she looks at her words and then looks up to see Mr. Paul.
“Uhhhh…. Mr. Paul?? …. ..”. She stammers to deliver these barely discernible utterances…
Searching for words she feels her left hand tightening to a clenched fist.
He calmly, reassuringly affirms her uncertainty with a kind, well-toned, “yes, Jazz… you are writing, keep going…”
“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh….” Jazz exhales and looks around the room as if she has momentarily just appeared in this rooms’ space.
Philip Dane 