In humanistic teaching the idea of warm-up is central. A teacher cannot expect her group to work at full steam either intellectually or emotionally until they are warmed-up, until they have met each other at a certain level of depth, until people have realised that it is safe to let their hair down and be themselves, at least to some extent.

Z was a member of an English for Teachers of English Group and on day four of the two week course she offered the class the poem below. Though the poem came from Z's heart and mind, in very real ways the other members of the group are almost co-authors, as it was the atmosphere they created that was the poem's seedbed. They helped Z to open her heart: She is an exile from Iran, living in Northern Scandinavia.

Tehran

How could I forget you.
I've only tried
to put your memories
to the back of my mind,
in vain.

My mother gave me birth,
You gave me life.
She made my body,
You shaped my soul.

You shared with me
the pride of your mountains,
the restlessness of your bazaar,
the steadiness of your hills,
the openness of your sky,
the warmth of your summers,
the vividness of your springs,
the playfulness of your brooks,
the mysteriousness of your Sahara.

How can I forget
the songs we sang on your streets,
my jolly fellows and I.

You were painted in red
of our blood;
You've buried my dearest
in your arms.
You have seen our dreams
turned to nightmares
and our hopes shattered.

I'm longing for you
as a passionated woman
for her beloved man.

Could I see you once more
or I'll die without a last farewell.

How could I forget you?
I've only tried
to put your memories
to the back of my mind.