The art of the poetry slam
slam po•e•try n. 1. A spoken-word poetry competition; poets perform their own poems that are judged on a numeric scale by members of the audience.
By Geof Hewitt
Vermont Poetry Slam Champion
Back in 2001, for the end of my daylong “guest writer” visit to the fourth and fifth grades at a Burlington elementary school, the library hosted our culminating event, listed on the school’s calendar as “A Poetry Reading.” Anticipating a stream of timid poets rushing breathlessly through their newly composed poems, I offered the students a choice: should we stick with the plan or try a “poetry slam,” a lighthearted performance competition where enthusiasm and vocal projection matter big time, and audience members serve as judges? “Judging and score-keeping take extra time, so if you vote for a slam, fewer of you will have a chance to present your poems.” Of the 100 or so students sardined knee-to-knee on the library carpet, more than 80 raised their hands for a slam! We drew participants’ names from a hat, I quickly selected five judges and, within minutes, the slam was under way.
“What? You want students to compete with their poems?” some teachers ask. “Well, yes,” I reply. “If it’s OK to compete on the athletic fields, how will it hurt to have dueling poems?” Yet it’s important to remind students and teachers that the judges are just a random group of audience members with no special poetic acumen. The whole idea of slam is to yank capital-P Poetry from the grasp of the elite and place it firmly in the mitts of regular people. I also tell teachers that “slam” is hype, implying a level of aggression that to my knowledge has never been approached in such an event. Further, it’s the job of the slammaster (emcee) to remind the slammers, judges and audience that luck is as important as skill in determining the winners. Take “score creep,” for instance, a phenomenon wherein scores almost inevitably climb as the event progresses: Luck favors those who draw a high number for order of performance.
At another of Burlington’s elementary schools, my host teacher took me aside during lunch and asked that I not encourage audience members to boo the scores they felt were too low. I nearly cried. Booing low scores is one of slam’s most valued traditions. But she persisted. “We place a high priority on good manners,” she explained between near-silent sips on a straw she had plunged deep in her carton of chocolate milk. I reluctantly agreed to a “polite slam” (an oxymoron for sure!), but the third student to slam, a fifth-grader, received low scores for a pretty good poem, and Ms. Manners lost all control, booing the judges solo until a chorus of others joined the fun and setting a precedent for the rest of the slam.
It is precisely the anti-establishment nature of slam that makes me want it for all our schools. An alienated student who had to repeat a year of high school, I tend to identify with those students who wouldn’t be caught dead at a “Poetry Reading,” but might rush to a room full of booing and eventually decide to write and perform their own poems. Another feature of slam as a gateway to literacy is that it is an oral art: A teacher never sees the messy handwriting, the misspellings, etc. The terror of a teacher’s anticipated corrections dissipates; the writer is freed! Yet slammers quickly learn that the neater the manuscript, the easier to offer a flawless performance.
Slam belongs in our schools, and once introduced is best left for students to organize and run. Its power lies in its all-accepting attitude: Anything goes, as long as it’s the slammer’s own work and takes three minutes or less to present. There may be students who will perform inappropriate work, but in my experience this is rare. When they are trusted, students usually honor that trust, lest something valuable be taken away.
And slam belongs in other communities, not just schools. The three-minute time limit for each performance encourages concise use of language. This held true at a recent slam held at the Vermont Statehouse where government officials were put to the test by young poets who showed up to compete.
Ultimately, though, who gets the highest score is irrelevant. Good slammasters repeatedly remind their audience: “The point is not the points; the point is the poetry!”
Geof Hewitt, Vermont’s reigning poetry slam champion, is the author of three books of poetry and three books for teachers. His most recent publication, “Hewitt’s Guide to Slam Poetry and Poetry Slam,” available from discoverwriting.com, addresses ways to bring slam to the classroom and provides strategic advice to slammers and slam organizers. Hewitt lives in Calais with his wife, Janet. He works for the Vermont Department of Education as a writing consultant.
