If you have ever sat in a literature class, you have likely heard of this term: iambic pentameter.  It is used to describe the da-dum, da-dum, da-dum rhythm often found in poetry.  One syllable is unstressed but the syllable immediately after is stressed: Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.  Often likened to a human heartbeat, iambic pentameter appeals to even novice students of literature because the meter is that relatable.  The beat precedes the lyrics.  It is what first catches one’s attention. 

Consider Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day: 

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? 
 

Thou art more lovely and more temperate: 
 

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
 

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; 
 

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 
 

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; 
 

And every fair from fair sometime declines, 
 

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd; 
 

But thy eternal summer shall not fade, 
 

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; 
 

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, 
 

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: 
 

   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, 
 

   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee 

Many poets have dipped their quills and written with unmatched eloquence about love, and the Bard, Shakespeare, is no exception.  However, he is keenly aware of the power of iambic pentameter.  From his own heart, he sets his ideas to the beating of a heart and in so doing, draws in his readers even more closely, knowing full well that the da-dum, da-dum, da-dum rhythm has been imprinted on all of his readers since they were in utero.  That is correct, dear listeners.  Our lesson in literature begins before we ever emerge from the womb.  It is not in words or prosody but rhythm: the beating of our mother’s heart.  That is what we listen to.  That is what forms us.  To be born, then, is to graduate from that first school. 

But a curious thing happens upon our commencement.  We begin again.  We learn a language.  We build a vocabulary.  And, eventually, we rediscover a familiar rhythm, sitting in English class, looking at a poem we believe is so foreign to us as to be written in a different tongue. 

Novice educators might miss the opportunity to reintroduce iambic pentameter to their students, choosing instead to explore some esoteric concept.  Some students might be won over while others not so much.  Even the best of us had to run that gauntlet.  Educators in the know, however, will begin on common ground even if it takes some time to explain to the learners that the ground is, indeed, common.  In effect, we need to remind students that they already know the material.  The details may be new but the intended effect is not.  In the womb, we were nurtured, and if everything that came afterwards was an immense challenge, we still have that groundwork.  To return to iambic pentameter is to return to the utmost basic.  And if we can do so with hope and optimism, we can make this return into a new beginning.  Such is the power of poetry.  It is not meant for a special class of individuals who know the terminology and the biggest hitters.  It is meant for all, for all, deep, deep down, understand it.  There is nothing elite about it.  Iambic pentameter is as common as a mother’s love.