When I was a public school teacher, sometimes I got a bit of flack over the idea that kids could teach kids. After all, reasoned certain parents, wasn't the *teacher* supposed to be teaching?As a home educator, I get to be my own principal. And in my room, kids teach kids. Without me even asking.Like this afternoon. My girls had a friend over, and they were secreted away in the study. At some point, my eldest popped down to the kitchen to hand me a villanelle (a challenging kind of form poem that she taught herself to write in the first place). She thrust the paper towards me. "I taught Michaela how to write a villanelle," she said. "I told her to give me certain kinds of lines and I wrote it down for her. Here!"I read the poem and smiled. Wow. Nobody assigned this. I wasn't even in the room when it happened. Maybe that's even part of WHY it happened. Anyway, Michaela's first villanelle..."She Alone"Rippling across the cool green grass,tulip alighted on a leaf;she gazed out the window on the mountain's stony passin an inkling of a wink she baskedfilled with deep grief,rippling across the cool green grassbut she among all of them was lastbeyond the shifting fields of wheat,she gazed out the window on the mountain's stony passbut she alone could fulfill the taskto find the king of the mountain's golden seatrippling across the cool green grassin there among the songs of the pastbut the winds of the north she could not beat, rippling across the cool green grassshe gazed out the window on the mountain's stony pass.by Michaela, 12. used with permission.Katie and Sara on the beach photo, by L.L. Barkat.