Hand Poems

"Hands have a history of their own. They indeed have their own civilization, their special beauty, their own wishes, feelings, moods, and favorite occupations."
-Rainer Maria Rilke

I'm still trying to create harmony within this class, to balance the louder and softer voices, to be attentive to each student and help them be attentive to each other. This is a wild group of children, but I see potential in their wildness: exuberance, spontaneity, and deep creative powers.

Today we talked about our hands. What makes them special, what stories they hold, what they love and hate to do. Here's a sample of student responses:

My hands love to play the spitbox.
My hands hate to work.
My hands believe they can rap.
My hands wish they can fly.
My hands dream to fight.
My hands remember playing the drums.
-David

My hand dreams to be a soccer player.
My hand hates to dance.
My hand wishes to be a Pokemon master.
My hand remembers when I stabbed a pencil in my hand.
My hand believes the tooth fairy is real.
-Michael