
Public schools are one of the few places where people from different backgrounds have to live together for many hours a day. How do we train for democracy? Rahma Nur, primary school teacher, uses poetry. Here is how

Rahma Nur was born in Mogadishu, Somalia, and has lived in Italy for over 50 years. As a black and (dis)-abled woman she has been teaching in state primary schools for decades. She writes poetry and short stories, selected and published in several anthologies and literary magazines. In 2012, she won the Rotary Club Torino ‘Mole Antonelliana’ Special Prize in the 7th National Literary Contest Lingua Madre.
Read one of her latest books “Il grido e il sussurro”
Listen to Rahma Nur at the Erickson conference “La Qualità dell’inclusione scolastica e sociale”
There is a school where students live together without homologation, do not wear rucksacks, and make poetry: poetry to learn to express oneself, to do things with words1, to listen to each other, to find unexpected meanings and one’s rhythm amid things. It is the school that thrives on the passion for knowledge and democracy of many and many teachers. It is the school that Rahma Nur has been acting and analysing for decades, questioning how to enable spaces and processes to grow together. We met her.
He has recently written a children’s book, Il figlio del sole e della tempesta (Oso Melero edizioni, 2023), which tells the story of Hassan, a Somali child who flees to Italy to avoid being taken away by Islamic fundamentalists. How does Hassan experience his arrival in Italy? And you? How did you experience it?
The two stories are very different: Hassan’s story is a diaspora story, set in a rather recent period, and mine is a story that happened more than fifty years ago, for completely different reasons. I moved to Italy from Somalia because I had polio and needed care: my mother, who already had a work contract in Italy, asked for reunification. Of my first time in Italy, I remember above all the hospitals, and places of care but also abandonment and isolation, because I heard a different language, I was indoors and without the possibility of going outdoors. I remember a lot of marble, white doors, a sterilised environment and people standing around me, only looking after my body and not my imagination, my desire to play. In contrast, Hassan fled his country because of a dangerous situation. In the novel, however, I did not want to focus on the journey but on his life in Somalia before he fled: what he ate, what he wore or what he listened to. Of Somalia myself I remember the sand that got in everywhere, the rammed earth house, the feeling of always feeling dusty. On my arrival in Italy, on the other hand, I remember the many trees and the buildings I did not see in my country of birth, but above all a perspective on the city of a little girl crawling because she could not walk.
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This other perspective on the world then became your strength. Where did you find the courage?
From the writer and activist teacher bell hooks2: I wish I had known her when I was a child or at least in high school! Unfortunately, her works were not translated into Italian for a long time, much like many authors of black feminism. While feminists here were familiar with Angela Davis, bell hooks remained largely unknown. Reading her texts, especially the trilogy on teaching3, has been transformative for me. It has given me the strength to embrace my true self and to resist conformity. Like bell hooks, who was the only black professor at the University of Southern California, I experienced feelings of isolation. I am grateful that many can now access her work. It helped me to believe in myself, in the journey of teaching, and most importantly, in the profound impact that words can have.
How do you apply this thinking of yours in the school context?
I am often called upon in training courses to talk about ableism, inclusion and racism issues: I talk about what I have experienced first-hand but also about what a teacher can make others understand. I often ask myself, ‘How can I make children understand that they are children beyond their origin? How can I develop their critical sense and direct them towards an idea of coexistence that respects mutual differences?” Many years ago, for example, when I taught history and talked about Christopher Columbus, I would try to get them to think beyond the textbook, which often reflected a colonialist vision, and I would ask: “But are you sure it was Columbus who discovered America and not vice versa? Who discovered what?” A teacher must make those in front of him feel welcome: listen and allow full freedom of expression while respecting each other’s differences and freedoms, without trying to channel diversity into a single model. To do this I also worked a lot on myself and my limits, learning to break out of many stereotypes that I also carried within myself.
This approach can also be applied from the point of view of the setting, i.e. the physical context: my classroom4, for example, is a backpack-free classroom and is intended to be easy and accessible, creating an environment where children can work together and co-exist. There are no divided desks or desks, but islands made up of many tables together where we work in groups, in pairs or individually. We teachers sit next to them. In a small way, this represents a significant revolution that involves the structuring of the physical environment.

What should the relationship between the school and the city be for you, then, from a structural point of view? How do you build a school building for everyone?
Co-design of places is the key: architects and engineers should work together with the people for whom the buildings are intended and, therefore, in this case, teachers, educators, psychologists, families, and pupils. One should not only think about the beauty of the building but also its usability, both for the child who runs around like a madman and for the child who may be blind and needs to understand where they are.
For example, in the US, in Texas, where my brother moved, when his daughters enrolled in the neighbourhood school, the mayor sent a welcome packet with information about the area, including the school. My nieces’ school itself was built as an ecosystem of spaces: the teacher’s corner with the coffee, the classroom bathroom, the classroom with the television and games, and the tables with various types of seating.
What about poetry? When did it enter your life? And between the desks?
Poetry and teaching used to be seen as separate realms. At home, I cherished moments of reflection where I would write, while at school, I thrived on teaching Italian. I’ve always been deeply passionate about the intricacies of poetic language, long before I ever published my work. Nowadays, I heavily incorporate poetry into my teaching methods with my students. It serves as a vital tool to encourage them to express themselves and share their stories. I emphasize to them that poetry isn’t solely about evoking emotions; it’s also a means to play with language and expand their vocabulary. I firmly believe that as educators, we must convey our passion for a subject if we expect our students to embrace it.
That’s why I introduce poetry in our classroom discussions, showcasing the beauty and power of words, which never fails to captivate their interest. I expose them to a variety of poets, such as Ungaretti, Montale, Langston Huges and Maya Angelou, both familiar and distant, challenging them to explore new perspectives and styles. Our work together often takes a collaborative approach, gradually transitioning to individual or pair activities. Occasionally, we even engage in friendly competitions to craft verses, which encourages them to think creatively and write more. After four years with my current group of students, I’ve noticed that they now effortlessly generate insightful sentences and metaphors during our poetry sessions, a testament to their growing confidence and engagement.
Poetry is a commitment but also part of everyday life. It is universal because, starting with something as simple as a school notebook or a pen, it can address the most diverse topics. Through poetry, we can encounter stories and realities different from our own, examine difficult topics and discover how we are similar, even though we come from distant places.
So many beautiful things can be created from one word.
One time the word “doormat” had come up, most of the children didn’t know what it meant and I proposed: “Before we go and look in the dictionary, what does it mean to you? Let’s try to imagine what a doormat might be”. A nursery rhyme was born, to which everyone contributed. This way of working serves to show how in our diversity we are unique and unrepeatable. Indeed, we are jewels.
And also to imagine a different and universal city in which all the differences that poetry teaches us can coexist. What is your favourite poem?
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. It is my restorative vitamin..


Angelou, M. (1978) “Still I Rise”. In And Still I Rise: A Book of Poems. Source: The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou (1994). All rights reserved. Used by permission of Random House, an imprint and division of Penguin Random House LLC.
- How to Do Things with Words (Austin, 1962) is a collection of lectures given by the philosopher John Langshaw Austin at Harvard University. The English philosopher’s main novelty is that he introduced for the first time the theory of language acts, whereby words cause changes when spoken, as in the case of promises. ↩︎
- Bell hooks (born 25 September 1952 in Hopkinsville, Kentucky, United States – died 15 December 2021 in Berea, Kentucky) was an American scholar and activist whose work examined the connections between race, gender and class. She often explored the different perceptions of black women and black women writers and the development of feminist identities. See The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. (2024, March 12). Bell hooks | Biography, Books, & Facts. ↩︎
- hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to transgress; hooks, b. (2003). Teaching Community: A Pedagogy of Hope; hooks, b. (2009). Teaching Critical Thinking: Practical Wisdom; ↩︎
- Rahma Nur has been teaching for more than thirty years at the G. Martinelli (Castagnetta) plexus of the Istituto Comprensivo Fabrizio De André in Pomezia. ↩︎