For one hour a week over five weeks, Louis Savala sized up the two young men visiting his English classroom, "spitting" spoken-word poetry and offering life lessons.

He didn't participate; he didn't share despite their encouragement. And then, on Christopher Coon and Lorenzo McNeal Jr.'s sixth visit, 17-year-old Savala found his voice.

He opened up about trouble brewing with another teen. He vented about disrespect. He talked about being unfairly profiled as a Norteño or a Blood because of his looks.

For the first time in a long time, Savala felt he'd be heard.

"Getting the chance to talk and have people listen makes me feel I can say what I need to say," the Del Paso Heights teen said.

Savala is among dozens of Sacramento-area youths who have found the power of personal expression with the help of 22-year-old Coon – who proudly goes by his last name despite the word's racial connotations – and 23-year-old McNeal, who is known as TroubleSin.

Close friends for eight years, the pair began working with teens as "poet mentors" for the Sacramento Area Youth Speaks program. Now branching out, they conduct youth workshops rooted in the art of spoken-word poetry.

Educators say the young African American men from tough backgrounds can reach students in a way many teachers cannot, empowering the students, making poetry cool and mixing in advice for life.

Dan Chambliss, an English teacher at Highlands High School, said he has seen many students thrive since meeting Coon and TroubleSin.

"There's an underlying association," he said.

And that's important, he stressed, for any teacher trying to keep students interested in learning. "(Students) feel there's a place for them at school."

Coon and TroubleSin, who call themselves the E-Legal Tag Team, forged a bond when their lives were in an uproar. Poetry, they say, helped save them.

Coon was 15 and recovering from gunshot wounds in Meadowview. He narrowly escaped paralysis or death.

As for TroubleSin, in a word, he described himself at the time as "hostile" over a volatile situation in his south Sacramento County home. He was looking to lash out – but instead chose to reach out.

He called Coon in the hospital: "It's time to get to work" – writing, rhyming, making words their outlet. They shared what Coon calls "war stories," building off each other's emotions to create art.

Then, as now, it was their therapy. Their work covers everything from love to abandonment to issues of race. In "Family Tree," Coon and TroubleSin touch on the cycle of discord in their families.

In "The Hands That Rock the Cradle," they rhyme about their turbulent relationships with their parents.

Students of English teacher Erin Klentos at Vista Nueva Career & Technical High School researched the 1865 poem by William Ross Wallace of nearly the same title, looking for other cultural references to the poem and its themes. They found it in everything from hip-hop to blues music.

"I think they started to see the relevance of learning history and literature and being able to say, 'That still applies to me now,' " Klentos said.

Despite limited training, Coon and TroubleSin transition effortlessly from high school seniors to seventh-graders, gently teasing out participation and encourage critical thinking. They choose language students understand.

"They say things like 'Who's a rule breaker?' " said Mark Taylor, who teaches seventh-grade English at Smythe Academy. "They're just trying to get the kids to think outside of the box, but they use terms like that to really access those kids who have a history of having behavior problems or academic problems."

Coon and TroubleSin say they want teens to feel safe to speak their minds, no matter how raw the material.

And it does get raw.

"That's why we don't sugarcoat it: They're not sugarcoating it out there," Coon said, referring to the streets.

The Tag Team has contracts with the Twin Rivers Unified School District and the Boys & Girls Clubs. Having worked with Sacramento City Unified, too, they dream of opening a center where youths can work on their art.

Recently at Highlands High, TroubleSin led a discussion about the phrase "Association breeds similarity."

Coon spoke of a close family friend who was a good kid and star athlete but fell in with the wrong crowd.

"He's now laying in the grave because of this group. Real talk – this is serious. Please be mindful of the company you keep."

Throughout their sessions with students, Coon and TroubleSin stress values such as respect and patience that apply in and out of the classroom, TroubleSin said.

He tells youths that patience is what kept him alive and out of prison.

"I could've acted out … but instead I remained patient, and it's because I was patient I'm here with you today."

Klentos has seen her tough fourth-period class – her "killer bees" – practicing Coon's and TroubleSin's code since the pair started visiting. She believes their authority comes in the example they provide.

They have "had a lot of bad things happen to (them), too, and they're OK. They're really grounded," she said. "You can travel through this war zone … and you can come out OK, but you have to be on your game."

Laronda Johnson, a 16-year-old student in Klentos' class, described them as "hecka cool."

"They're strong black men who do something different with their lives instead of being like other black men in this world … (who live) that gangster life," she said.

"The stuff they've been through is the stuff we've all been through," said Savala, who described his neighborhood, Del Paso Heights, as "crazy as hell."

But he said Coon and TroubleSin have helped him see that he can rise above that, that "all this hustling on the street – it's nothing."

On that sixth visit – Coon and TroubleSin's last to Vista Nueva – Savala embraced them. And then that night, he sent them a piece of his poetry for review.

He's never felt he's had people to talk to, Savala said, except for the aging "OGs" – "original gangsters" – on the street. Finally, he found that at school.

"I know there (are) people out there that care and … who will listen," he said.

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Call The Bee's Kim Minugh, (916) 321-1038. Follow her on Twitter @Kim_Minugh.

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