Poetry Like Bread

Collage Poems

2008-05-01T09:59:00.001-07:00

The end of the school year approaches. Mutiny is brewing among the poetry crew, and for the past few weeks I've heard countless versions of the following complaint: "Miss Sarah, we write all day at school! Why do we need to write more?" It was a question I didn't have an answer for. I always try to make class fun, but these kids were clearly exhausted by the endless work and craving something more light-hearted. So I've come up with a few new poetry games and art-writing fusions to move beyond the typical "read, discuss, write" model. This class on poetry collages was the first attempt.

I passed out ten-page packets of famous and not-so-famous poems for them to skim through. Using this raw material, they cut and pasted words, phrases, lines, and whole stanzas to create a new poem, mixing different voices in surprising new ways. Many were especially drawn to "As I Grew Older" by Langston Hughes, mixing up the lines and weaving in just a few images from elsewhere.

This week, the girls were unusually quiet and focused as they worked, and I even had time to make a collage of my own. It was a nice change to work alongside them instead of constantly circling around the room. Collages from class:

Effervescence gush It was a long time ago
I have almost forgotten my dream
And now the crickets play But it was there then
In front of me
-Saruro

some say the world will end in fire
it was a long time ago when the world exploded
that was cool
-Safia

I have almost forgotten my dream.
It was a long time ago,
a thousand lights of sun.
Only the thick wall,
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
to smash this night,
to break this shadow.
And we soar up into the summer stars.
Summer. The big sky river rushes overhead.
-Dahiro

Help me to shatter this darkness
old and grey and full of sleep
bearing asteroids and mist, blind fish
old space suits with skeletons inside

I have almost forgotten my dream:
two rivers burning bright - one sap and one root -
cracked hands - half-eaten moon - thousand lights of sun

I lie down in the shadow, press an ear against its hive
-"Miss Sarah"

Remember

2008-04-25T08:33:00.000-07:00

I read the girls "Remember" by Joy Harjo, and a response written by a fourth-grade boy. After talking about favorite lines and the use of repetition in the poem, I asked them to write their own, repeating the word "remember" at the beginning of each line. What did they want their readers to remember about the world? What joy or pain did they want to share with others?

Remember when the stars were
playing with the moon and having fun.
Remember why the sky and the bird
were fighting and then became friends again.
Remember when the cars were trying to go
to the sky and fly in the sky and trying to put
their shoes up in the sky.
-Adout

Remember when dinosaurs were
alive. Remember when my brother
ruined my cake. Remember
when the stars helped you.
Remember when I was laughing
so hard that I even died.
-Safia

To Anna
Remember when you were playing outside?
Remember when you were happy in the sun?
Remember when boys weren't jerks and didn't lie?
Remember when we were laughing and you weren't sad?
-Melisa

Translations

2008-04-25T08:09:00.000-07:00

Only two girls in class this time, so we headed outside to write. I had brought in a few poems written in foreign languages for them to "translate" into English based on how the words looked and sounded. They found the whole poems to be a little overwhelming, so they instead made a long list of English words "translated" from the poem and then used those words in an original poem:

When I say the word misoka
the color pink comes out of my eyes.
The word misoka sounds like enjoying
a day in the sunshine. Misoka is wine
like Safia said that her paper is flying away.
Misoka is like laughing. Safia's beautiful
laugh makes the beautiful sun come out. I love when
Safia laughs. Misoka is riding a bike
on a nice day with my friends and running.
-Adout

The lemon is eating the fox.
The lemon is huge and the fox
is just a tiny baby. In Colombia,
people use aprons to catch food
like a fishing net. The sea is transporting
camels from desert to desert. Cinnamon
makes me remember campers fighting
for justice. Safia owns the camp. Safia
is not how she usually is. She is going
crazy all over the place, and her friend
Adout is trying to calm her down.
Safia likes to compose herself and she
likes the lemons. Giant lemons,
because they are her friends.
-Safia

After they were finished, they chose to write a few color poems like the ones they've been writing in school:

What is red?
Red is a fire truck siren, red is a hydrant.
Red is a hummingbird feeder, an electric guitar.
Red is Safia's scarf shining and helping the sun shine too.
When you cut yourself, red is your blood. Red is
a valentine's heart to give to someone you love.
Red is a cherry, an apple, an Indian fig.
Red. You can taste it as you bite it.
-Safia

Flowers are blue, blue is candy, blue is a bike,
blue is a sled. Blue is in love with the color pink.
Blue is a star, a lake, a car driving everywhere.
Blue is a friend that loves to make friends.
Blue said that she is a girl and she likes my teacher.
-Adout

Safia then wrote a longer piece about her scarf. It's nice to improvise with a smaller group!

My red scarf shines bright and helps the sun shine too. When I wear it the sun shines, and when I don't the sky is dark. My grandma bought it in a marketplace in Kenya and forgot to give it to me before I left Africa. When she came to America, she left it in Rochester, NY, so there was still no way for me to get the scarf. So one day I went to Rochester and my grandma gave me the red scarf and a yellow one, bright and sparkly. Together they looked orange, just like my dress. It reminds me of my grandma when I wear it, sitting lonely with her children all gone.
-Safia

Creation Myths

2008-04-25T07:49:00.000-07:00

For this lesson, I read the girls a few stories from Marduk the Mighty, a great book of international creation stories by Andrew Matthews. I asked them a few questions: What was here before the universe? How did this world come to be? What about plants, animals, and people? They answered these questions in their own creation myths using dreams, things they'd heard in school or church, and things they just made up:

In Africa the world was dark and there was nothing, not even shoes. There were no cities or cars or people. Then out of the darkness, a voice came saying, "Wake up!" And the deserts woke up and the jungles woke up and the water woke up.
-Asho

In the beginning there were plants and trees. There was a sky filled with clouds, moon, and sun. The sun was making the plants grow and turn the world into a desert. The moon was making darkness. The plants grew to be a cactus. The sun also made trees grow so they could grow fruit for the apes to eat. Later in the year the apes learned everything that humans know so they became human. The darkness made rain, which made a river. The humans dug a big circle and turned it into an ocean. There were fishes, dolphins, whales, octopus, and jellyfish living in the ocean. Then one of these animals in the ocean created a bunch of shells so they'd have a house. Also there were birds and the birds came from nature. There were cats, dogs, horses, cows, skunks, raccoons, and squirrels. God created them.
-Melisa and Safia

In the beginning there was the sun and the sun grew and made a tree. Aliens were coming. They lived in the world and left and then the animals came. And the rain started raining and made oceans and rivers and sharks. Animals started going into the rivers. Apes started being people and people came from apes.
-Adout

Ekphrastic Poems

2008-04-25T07:32:00.000-07:00

Sorry for my long absence! I've taught four classes since my last post, but I've really lagged behind in posting to this blog. I'll do a whirlwind update today, then get back into the regular rhythm of one post per week.

For this lesson, I brought in several full-color art books from the library and had each student choose a painting or other artwork they'd like to write about. They were encouraged to write from inside the picture and use all their senses to explore what was happening. Here are some results:

I am green and red
with flowers. Please
wear me because
I am pretty. We'll go
to a dance party
and we will sway
like the ocean
to guitars and drums
under the stars.
-Abshiro, after "Self Portrait" by Carmen Lomas Garza

She is a famous person and
she is outside. Oil painting.
Her eyes follow you
everywhere. She looks happy.
People were sad when she died.

The background of the village looks
like war. The color is gold-black.
Tornado coming from far away.
People being poor.
-Safia, after "Mona Lisa" by Leonardo da Vinci

If I was resting in this flower it would be like resting on a cloud with the sun shining on my face and smells like perfume and pink cherry. The stamen looks like a green banana peel. The inside of the flower is like a dark cave with sounds like paper. I have never seen a flower like this one before.
-Khadijo, after "Two Calla Lilies on Pink" by Georgia O'Keefe

He looks like a worm. He looks like a rainbow. He's pretty and nice. He looks curly. He's the longest snake ever. He's playing! He's on the ground in the city. He's powerful and if someone steps on him he'll probably still be alive. He eats cookies. He has a bunch of friends. He has a girlfriend named Francine, the most beautiful snake you've ever seen. He likes to swim in the water.
-Adout, after "Sneaky Snake" by Calvert Norton

Things I Didn't Know I Loved

2008-03-10T14:25:00.000-07:00

Back after a long spring break! Today I shared a few passages from a poem by Nazim Hikmet, a Turkish writer who spent much of his adult life as a political prisoner. In the poem, we find him riding a train from Prague to Berlin, watching the world rush by the window and celebrating all the things he never realized he loved: earth, rivers, rainy nights, sparks flying from the engine.

I asked the girls to think of something they had taken for granted, something they didn't even know they loved until it was gone. It could be a small detail about their life back in Africa, a moment shared with a friend or family member who died or moved away, or an object they lost and then missed terribly. Or their poetry could be more like Hikmet's, an effort to notice the everyday beauty surrounding them right now. Here are a few student poems:

I never knew I liked the cat
until I petted her and she
purred like her bones
were breaking.

I never knew I liked Emily
until I made chocolate chip
cookies in her kitchen
under her colorful star light.

I never knew I liked washing dishes,
the bubbles and the soap, and the way
they said pop-pop-pop in my hands.
-Abshiro

The first time I came here I looked at the sky,
and I never knew I liked the sky. The sky
looked different to me and I was
scared because it looked so high.
I didn't know I liked how you smelled
like the donut shop because it made me
hungry, but then I missed it when
you were gone.
-Adout

I didn't know I liked the sun making me hot until the winter.
I didn't know I liked cats until one day I touched one, and it felt soft like ice cream.
I didn't know I liked reading until I read a story. I felt smart and happy.
I didn't know I liked Emily until she went away.
-Saruro

Borrowed Lines

2008-02-19T13:58:00.000-08:00

Today I brought in a list of lines from other poems. After reading them aloud and discussing unfamiliar words, each child picked a favorite to serve as a title or first line. I've tried this lesson before, and I love to see how different groups respond in totally different ways. My students at Lawrence Barnes were more drawn to wild, surreal images, and this class preferred simple, down-to-earth ones. Though each poet chose a different line, every single one wrote about night in one way or another:

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
When I was born I forgot
where I was from. Did I come
from Mars or Jupiter? Was I
a donkey being a slave?
A cat scratching people?
When I was born there
was a war, guns shooting,
but I can't remember.
-Safia

Do not go gentle into that good night.
It is dark and the moon
and stars are shining. I hear
frogs and crickets
in the night and I
hear owls.
-Saruro

I stop to smell
the night and
it smells
fresh. If you
close your
eyes it feels
like you
fly.
-Dahiro

those of you in the night sky above the moon:
moon the moon is light, it will always be light.
stars stars always move, anywhere they like.
cloud cloud makes person's face, and it moves anywhere.
-Asho

When I look at the moon I see beautiful stars, they look pretty as flowers. When I look in the moon I see my family, and I always like to look in the moon. When I look in the moon I see my friends having fun with me. Looking in the moon is fun.
-Adout

Food Poems

2008-02-11T15:08:00.001-08:00

When the City Market cashier gave me the "Umm, are you pregnant?" look, I knew I had selected a good assortment of foods for my poetry class: the classic combination of pickles, peanut butter, garlic, and chocolate-chip cookies. Yum.

In class, I had the kids eat the foods slowly and give me words for what each one tasted like:

Pickles: sour, vinegary, lemony, sharp, hot, spicy, salty
Peanut Butter: smooth, sweet, creamy, heavy, sticky
Garlic: gross, stinky, strong, bitter, sharp
Cookies: sweet, rich, soft, creamy, chocolatey, sugary

We talked about how eating involves all the senses: seeing the food, hearing what sound it makes when chewed, smelling it, tasting it, and feeling its texture. Surprisingly, dill pickle spears were the biggest hit. They ate the whole jar and even slurped up the juice in paper cups. I asked them to choose one or more foods to write about, using all of their senses and at least one metaphor. The poems were not as serious as in previous weeks, and Adout especially enjoyed writing hers. After mixing three clashing ingredients together, she said, "Ew, that's so stinky." I said, "Stinky as what?" and a very funny (and frank) piece of writing was born.

I mix the pickle juice with the chocolate and peanut butter and it stinks like a skunk. Nobody would love to drink it. Sometimes cheese can be smelly like a skunk when it is tooting. It also stinks like a dog poop. If I tell someone to drink it they will say, "NO! That thing looks like a skunk and it stinks."
-Adout

Pickles are sweet, I like them.
When I drink the juice my belly
feels like when I drink hot coffee.
The pickle juice smells like
acorns. It makes you feel
orange.
-Asho

it's colorful candy it looks like a rainbow
it smells like sugar and ice cream
it feels red and it tastes like chocolate
-Saruro

Seven Word Spill

2008-02-04T13:57:00.000-08:00

Today we played a game called Seven Word Spill, an idea from the VSA Arts national network. I had each student choose seven word cards from a bowl, then scramble them on the table, thinking of surprising ways to combine them in sentences. After practicing for a few minutes, I invited them to write a poem including as many words as possible, changing word endings if they liked. Some used all their words early in the poem and selected a few more to challenge themselves.

This is my galaxy.
This is my big sister.
Every night we see an owl in the tree
and every day we stand at the river to fish.
Stay quiet today.
Everything is here now.
It is time to write.
Go take a paper and spill out your words.
When I'm drumming, my seed turns into plants.
My skin is ice.
This is my galaxy.
-Asho

Under a tree I read a book. I fall asleep and I dream the tree is blooming with fire and the sky looks like midnight.
-Dahiro

When I see the light I always sing a song.
I always like to sing and dance.
When I tell my friend a secret, she never tells anybody.
I see a candle. I like the way it burns.
I like my voice when I'm singing, and my voice likes me.
When I sing this song it makes my brother go up and down.
-Adout

Indian Ocean
Light blue like the sky without rain,
she whispers to me from planet earth.
When I touch her, I feel like I'm home
eating a cherry. She feels like fox fur,
clouds covering the moon.
Me and the ocean have secrets for each other.
I promise the ocean I won't tell anyone she speaks to me.
-Safia

Photographs

2008-01-28T14:56:00.000-08:00

Today I brought in several black and white cover portraits from my favorite magazine, The Sun. I asked the girls to look at the people's faces and choose one they felt especially drawn to. Once everyone had chosen a photograph, we sat in a circle, and I led the students through a guided meditation.

"I want you to stare into the person's eyes. Look past their age, their gender, the color of their skin. Try to see into their heart. What do they remember? What has caused them great pain? Great joy? What do they fear more than anything? Try to imagine their families, their histories, what has brought them to this moment, this place. What are they feeling right now? What are they seeing, hearing, smelling, and tasting? What are they longing to say? Try to imagine what they wish for, what hope they have for the future."

I gave them a few minutes to get to know their person in silence, and then instructed them to write a poem answering whichever questions they liked, and using details wherever possible. When a few poets had trouble getting started, I suggested they take on the person's point of view, writing a letter from inside the photograph. Here are two poems using that approach:

I'm dreaming about my family.
Our food smells sweet and we're sharing
bowls of soup. We eat together every night.
I hear soft talking.
I hear dishes being washed.
Outside the wind is whistling.
Our hearts are filled with shining light.
-Asho

I'm worried about my family.
In my country where I was born
there is war, guns shooting.
I can't go outside to buy
food for my children. My husband
died in the war and I cried all night long.
What I wish is that this war would be over
just once. I wish I could get my family
back together. I wish for peace and freedom.
-Safia

Sky Tree

2008-01-08T12:52:00.000-08:00

It's great to be back at Wheeler for the winter session. I have a small, mellow group of girls, including two previous students. For our first class, we looked at Sky Tree by Thomas Locker, which follows one tree through the seasons. The girls were in awe of the paintings and loved watching the landscapes change. They were particularly sensitive to the way the sky clothed the tree's bare branches in winter; stars, clouds, birds, and violet sunsets all acted as temporary "leaves."

After observing our own sky out the window (it was "church-quiet" and "white as rabbits"), I asked them to close their eyes and imagine any sky they liked. It could be a morning sky, a starry sky, or a fiery evening sky. What time of year is it? What time of day? What colors and weather do you see? Is it windy or still? Cloudy or clear? I passed out small pieces of paper ("sky windows") and colored pencils so they could draw the sky they had imagined.

When the drawings were complete, I asked asked them to write a poem describing their sky and the world below. Here are two examples (I might scan the drawings a bit later):

My sky is white summer
in the spicy afternoon. Children
playing on the sand,
children yelling, screaming,
and laughing. My sky turns
gray, lightning, thunder,
and loud.
-Safia

My sky was a little bit dark
and it was raining
and it was the middle
of afternoon. I was so happy
that everyone stayed inside.
It was soft and quiet.
-Asho

Gift Poems

2007-12-16T06:50:00.000-08:00

Last weekend I was invited to teach a poetry class at Sibshop, a program for siblings of children with disabilities, organized by Parent to Parent of Vermont. Thanks to Judy and Joanne for making this possible!

I led the group (just four kids and three adults) in writing gift poems, modeled after a selection from "You Bring Out the Mexican in Me" by Sandra Cisneros. I asked them to close their eyes and think of a person who was very special to them. It could be a friend, family member, neighbor, teacher, anyone who had changed them for the better. I asked them to make a list of things this person brought out in them to spark ideas for a first draft.

1) Animal - Does this person bring out the roaring lion in you? The monkey? The hummingbird?
2) Part of Nature - Does this person make you feel like a tall mountain? A flashing star? A calm lake? A whispering field?
3) Colors - What colors does this person bring out in you? Midnight purple? Grass green? Dark red?
4) Feelings - Does this person bring out the creativity in you? The courage? The joy? Sometimes the anger or sadness?
5) People - Who does this person bring out in you? The magician? The warrior? The singer?
6) Anything else that comes to mind!

After everyone had their lists, it was time to start a first draft. I told the class to think of a rough order, a way of structuring their favorite items from the list. I asked them to think about rhythm and repetition, to read their poems out loud and listen to the sounds. When everyone had revised and rearranged their way to a final draft, they copied the poems onto colored paper and decorated them as a holiday gift for the person they'd written about. Here are the kids' poems:

Dear Abe
You bring out the fun in me,
the laughter in me, the clowning
in me, the mischief, the color black,
and the trouble maker in me.
-Phin, age 9

My Dad
You bring out the monkey in me
when you say I am one.
You bring out the clown in me
when you act like one.
You bring out the laughs in me
when you make up funny things in the book.
You bring out the red in me, the color of laughs
when you joke around.
-Zachary, age 9

Cole
You bring out the wrestler in me,
the fun, creativity, and laughter.
You bring out the hungry lion in me
when you make me angry
and the demolisher in me
when we knock stuff down.
-Ellis, age 11

Rachel
You bring out the music in me,
the dance floor in me, the singing.
The laughter in me and bright sunny yellow in me.
The bubbly in me.
You bring out the "y'all" in me,
the stylish clothes and beads in me.
-Hannah, age 11

Where I'm From

2007-12-16T06:34:00.001-08:00

The ice cream social at Joseph's House was great fun (All hail Ben & Jerry's!), but also a little bittersweet, since it was the last meeting of the Lawrence Barnes poets. Several kids from another creative writing class read their stories, and my poetry class read the following collaborative poem:

Where I'm From

I'm from the heat in Sudan and the snow in Vermont.
I'm from Vietnam, the rice, crab, and hot gam siao I ate there.
I'm from the roots of vegetables under the ground, cooking chicken with my family.
I'm from riding my bike through Burlington, the birds, deer, and people I pass.
I'm from the summertime: watermelon, sweet corn, and berries.

I'm from swimming in the water like a fish.
I'm from the secret box I fill with acorns and feathers.
I'm from After-School and my favorite sports: basketball, football, and volleyball.
I'm from the snowy playground outside Lawrence Barnes.
I'm from Be quiet, Listen to me, Be respectful, Be safe, and Do your best.

I'm from throwing apples with my cousins in Russia.
I'm from my red and green bedroom where I run and crash into windows.
I'm from the voice of my annoying little sister acting crazy.
I'm from playing Monopoly with my grandma and grandpa.
I'm from twice-baked potatoes with cheese, so hot and soft.

I'm from the red, white, and blue of the American flag.
I'm from the moon and star on the Turkish flag.
I'm from decorating the tree and building a snowman on Christmas.
I'm from the pride I feel when celebrating Ramadan.
I'm from the suit I wear to welcome the New Year at midnight.

Ice Cream Social!

2007-12-05T13:55:00.000-08:00

All readers in the Burlington area (or beyond, if you're dedicated!) are invited to an ice cream social sponsored by the Old North End Unity Project. Kids, adults, and families are welcome, and several young poets from Lawrence Barnes will read their work. As I refuse to make a lame pun on "scoop," here is the information:

When: Friday, December 14, 3 pm (poets read at 3:45 pm)
Where: Joseph's House, corner of Elmwood & Allen
Why: Duh, free ice cream! And poems!

Imagery Poems

2007-12-05T13:02:00.000-08:00

After a rousing game of Duck Duck Onomatopoeia, my JFK class gathered around the table to talk about the five senses and poetic imagery. Here are a few student poems using a form I suggested:

My eyes will never forget my dog playing fetch.
My ears will never forget my dog barking.
My nose will never forget watermelon in spring.
-Tristan

My eyes will never forget my mom and dad.
My ears will never forget "Give Thanks."
My nose will never forget pizza smells.
My tongue will never forget the cheeses.
My hands will never forget my pizza is hot.
-Jacob

My eyes will never forget Sarah being silly.
My ears will never forget my mom talking.
My nose will never forget flowers.
My tongue will never forget chicken.
My hands will never forget hugging my mom.
-Daisyah

Comparison Poems

2007-11-27T15:16:00.001-08:00

Today at JFK I introduced poetic comparisons by reading several similes and metaphors by other children I've taught. After each one, I asked how it could be true. How is an egg like an alien's face? How is glitter like a dress with yellow stars and red hearts? After they seemed to understand how two unlike things could be similar, I held up a maraca and asked them to compare it to something outside of school. They said it was like a tree, a lollipop, a skinny guy with a big head. Then I told them to write a poem with a comparison in each line. Here are some examples:

The grass is green as a frog.
The ground is brown as a turkey.
The telephone is black as black hair.
The sun is yellow as a pencil.
-Daisyah

The turkey is as big as an elephant.
The pumpkin is as round as my head.
-Tristan

The grass is green
like a lily pad.
The vegetables are
tasty as candy.
The tiara is shiny
as a king's throne.
The moon is a shiny
silver ribbon.
-Rainbow

Lie Poems

2007-11-26T15:24:00.000-08:00

I kicked off class by announcing that I came from the moon, stood seventy-two feet tall with curly purple hair, and ate elephants for breakfast. In near-perfect unison, several kids exclaimed, "No, you don't!"

"Oh, no?" I asked. "What's it called when I say things that aren't true?" After a few tries, they came up lie, just the word I was looking for. I asked them for the biggest, fattest lie they could think of: where they came from, what they looked like, what they ate for breakfast, anything. They happily spun tall tales for me, each taller than the one before, and once the room got too loud to hear individual voices, I shouted, "Okay, you're ready! Start writing them down!" A few of the quieter children really opened up this week, trying on alter-egos and creating strange new worlds. Here are just a few student responses:

I am from Uranus. I am very hairy and the only part of my body is my face and my face is the color brown. I eat Sasquatch for breakfast.
-Elijah

I am from Russia.
I look like Spanish people with blue hair.
I will rip the book and eat paper.
I wear stinky clothes.
I will go to stinky-stink school.
I am friends with a bathroom.
I was the President of the United States.
I was boss of the world.
I will be rich. I will be mean.
I will break the competitors.
I will break the school.
I will go in a book and eat all of the books.
I will hit the teacher.
The competitors will be mine in every school.
I will be the clock.
I will be the doors.
I will be the books.
-Hamara

I was a teacher when I was three months old.
Once I was a book.
My best friend is the boss of the world.
I'm from under the ground.
I look just like Mrs. Turnbaugh.
I beat up the principal.
-Sevda

Sound Poems

2007-11-13T14:42:00.000-08:00

First class at JFK Elementary in Winooski. We played with noisy words (onomatopoeia) like squish, meow, and crumple. "What does this sound like?" I asked, stomping my feet on the floor. Some thought it sounded like thunder, others like a stampede. When asked what word it sounded like, they had lots of ideas: boom, doom, thump, thunk, dunk-a-dunk. I repeated these questions after crinkling a plastic bag and tapping a ruler, then introduced other ways to play with sound, like rhyme and alliteration.

I told them to write the noisiest poem that they could. They were free to wander the classroom with pen and paper, making noises with the materials around them. Jacob produced the class's favorite sound by smacking a hanging laminated pumpkin with his palm, a cartoonish noise he described as "bibble-bibble-bibble." After everyone was finished writing and sharing, we played acrostic games and "poetry telephone."

Here are two poems from class:

Prehistoric puppies
ripped my pants!
Eee! Eee! Eee!
I itch my iguana.
Opa-hopa octopus.
Needle cheese!
-Collaboration

The boom-box dances to
the boom-boom. My room
has some wind that goes
whir-whir. When I eat
my snack I go chew-chew.
When a chair falls
it goes BOOM!
-Rainbow

List Poems

2007-11-12T16:49:00.000-08:00

I read the kids a few lists from The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon today and asked them to come up with a list of their own. I passed out a handout with suggestions, such as Things That Fall from the Sky, Things That Have Lost Their Power, Annoying Things, and Things Worth Seeing. Here are two poems from class:

Fancy Things
Shoes. Makeup.
Dresses at school.
Books. Bracelets.
Pencils. Skateboards.
-Hamara

Things that Make One's Heart Beat Faster
Weddings.
Going to another school.
Seeing my teachers.
Getting a present.
Doing a great job.
-Samira

Borrowed Lines

2007-11-06T13:42:00.000-08:00

An easy, mellow class. I gave each student a list of lines from other poems and read a few examples. "Three thousand years ago" was a big hit, as well as "i was born with twelve fingers" and "We live in the night ocean wondering." I asked each of them to choose their favorite and use it as a first line for their own poem. Here is a sample:

3,000 years ago I was
the earth. Every time somebody
stepped on me I ached. In 3,000 years
I was a human. I had to get
a massage because my body ached.
And I'm still a human, and
I want to stay a human.
-Elijah

Sundays too my father got up early
because my dad works in recycling
and he never sleeps. It's hard to
not sleep.
-Samira

Years ago I lost a penny, a special penny. My dad's dad gave him it, he gave it to me, and I lost it when I was walking to school. That was a sad day.
-Paulina

Cloth from the moon. Cloth from
another planet. Cloth made out of super-
hero clothing.
-Fartun

Odes

2007-10-30T05:57:00.000-07:00

This week I shared selections from Pablo Neruda's "Ode to a Lizard" and asked the students for favorite lines. They especially liked the questions (From what planet, / from what / cold green ember / did you fall?) and tricks of scale (To / a fly / you are the dart / of an annihilating dragon).

I explained that odes were poems of praise, funny or serious. When I asked for possible objects of praise, the answers skewed toward funny: "A skunk!" "A zombie!" "Dirty underwear!"

I kept my ode-writing instructions minimal. I told them to pretend they spoke the thing's secret language. They could describe it, tell it why they liked it, or ask it questions. While I expected silly and over-the-top praise from the class comedians, the vast majority of students wrote poems consisiting entirely of questions, possibly inspired by Neruda:

Ode to the Sun
Oh what part of the sun do the flowers use?
Why don't you run out of heat?
-Elijah

Ode to a Turtle
Why are you eating Halloween?
Why are you eating the sun?
Why are you eating the ghost?
Why are you eating the dragons?
-Michael

Ode to a Pumpkin
What is your favorite color?
My favorite colors are pink, red, purple.
Do you like when people touch you?
How do you like growing on a plant?
Do you like fighting?
Do you make babies?
Do you like being smashed?
-Sevda

Change Poems

2007-10-22T15:53:00.000-07:00

Today I began by sharing two poems by H.O. Wheeler students, using the form "I used to... / But now..." The kids were very curious about the girls behind the poems: "What grade are they in?" "Did this one really live in Africa?" "How do you say her name?" After I answered their questions about the featured writers, I asked which lines were their favorites. They especially liked, "I used to be a black and white cat and my name was Jane / but now I am a superhero and my name is Supercat," "I used to be snow, but now I am a snow princess," and "I used to live in Africa, but now I live in America."

I told them their own poems could include real changes, made-up changes, or a combination. I asked them to think back to when they were very young, to remember all the things they'd learned, all the ways they'd grown.

I was delighted when Samira asked me, "Can we use names like we did last week? I liked that." She and a few friends continued to draw inspiration from the Name Poems lesson:

I used to be a snow princess,
but now I am Samira.
I used to be Aladdin,
but now I am Sevda.
I used to be a fish,
but now I am Hamara.

Here are a few more selections:

I used to be super, but now I'm Super David.
I used to think I was weak, but now I know I'm strong.
I used to hate kickball, but now I love kickball.
-David

I used to be a seed,
but now I am an action.
I used to be a fly,
but now I am a jungle.
I used to be a nothing,
but now I am a nothing.
-Deng

I used to be math, but now I am a shell.
I used to be a tree, but now I am a book.
I used to be a hat, but now I am a village.
I used to be a sea, but now I am a wood.
I used to be sharks, but now I am a fire.
I used to be trash, but now I am a bat.
I used to be a piano, but now I am a robot.
-Michael

Name Poems

2007-10-16T12:04:00.000-07:00

Attention spans were running short today, so I kept my introduction brief and simple: What are some of your favorite names? Do you have a nickname? A special name that's only used in your family, or with your friends? If you could choose a name for yourself, what would it be? What about the person you were yesterday; the person you'll be tomorrow? I told them about how members of some tribes change their names frequently over the course of a lifetime to reflect how they themselves have changed.

I provided a word bank of nouns, adjectives, and color words to guide their writing. To help them practice using it, I asked them to use those words to create a name that described them today, even if it didn't seem to make sense. One boy called out, "Dancing Black Pumpkin!" and the writing began. I thought the word bank would be a helpful tool, but most didn't seem interested in using it. The vast majority, however, did use the format I provided:

Today my name is Hungry Bear.
Yesterday my name was Playing Carrot.
Tomorrow my name will be Chicken Wing.
My parents think my name is Fartun.
My friends think my name is Nobody.
My secret name is Pink Fish.
-Fartun

Today my name is Akhmad.
Yesterday my name was Mohamed.
Tomorrow my name will be Kemran.
My parents think my name is Sarah.
My friends think my name is Troy.
My secret name is Emily.
-Makhmud

Today my name is Vanessa Hejin.
Yesterday my name was Gabriella.
Tomorrow my name will be Hannah Montana.
My parents think my name is Samira.
My friends think my name is Sarvina.
My secret name is Pocahontas.
-Samira

Dream Poems

2007-10-08T18:14:00.000-07:00

Today we talked about the strange, beautiful, frightening things that happen in dreams. To start off, we wrote a collaborative poem, each student contributing a line or two:

I dreamed there was no school.
I dreamed of hitting Elijah in the head.
I dreamed all the world would be ninjas.
I dreamed about a lion coming to eat me.
I dreamed about motorcycles, dirtbikes, every kind of bike, and everything in the world.
I dreamed about gold stuff.
I dreamed about a scary test.
I dreamed a pirate tried to kill my cousin.
I dreamed Samira was wearing glasses.
I dreamed my brother got hit by a boat.

Next everyone wrote individual poems about one dream or many. I encouraged them to include all the crazy details:

I dream of many colors making a pattern.
I try to play with heart and flower!?
I find squishy gold. I make it into cats.
-Hamara

I dreamed about my brother running around crazy with a snake on his head.
I dreamed about ice cream all over the school.
I dreamed about being the smartest person in the whole school.
-Sevda

Hand Poems

2007-10-01T15:06:00.000-07:00

"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

Inside a Stone

2007-09-24T16:05:00.000-07:00

First class at Lawrence Barnes today. I let each student choose a rock from Lake Champlain (see photo) and inspect it closely, as though they'd never seen a rock before:

What color is it? Any patterns on its surface? Is it warm or cool? Smooth or bumpy? Does the shape remind you of anything?

Immediately the answers came spilling out: "It's a submarine!" "Mine looks like a long, twisted finger!" "Look, this one is a pyramid!" They passed their rocks from hand to hand, feeling the weight, sampling the texture. They used a magnifying glass to check the tiny details: some were speckled, some were striped, some had designs like cave paintings. One more adventurous boy even licked his rock, reporting that it tasted "really gross, like a dusty attic."

Then I asked a different set of questions:

Now imagine you're a tiny, tiny person, no bigger than a speck of dust. This rock is your landscape. What's it like to walk across its surface? Does it look like a desert? A mountain range? A planet full of craters? What if you could go inside the rock? What kind of world would you find?

One girl described a quiet, spooky forest. A table of boys hoped to discover a diamond mine that would make them rich. Another student said "I can't see anything, it's so dark in here." I passed out copies of "Stone" by Charles Simic, and we read the poem aloud, discussing favorite lines and parts that weren't understood. To help students enter their rock and describe the experience, I played some slow, haunting flute music in the background. Here's a taste of what they wrote:

Diamonds Diamonds I'm as rich as Diamonds and shinier than my dentist's teeth.
-Elijah

I see animals in the rock.
I see forests in the rock.
I see diamonds in the rock.
I see grass in the rock.
I see dinosaurs in the rock.
I see noises of the dinosaur.
I am imagining I am getting chased.
I see a snake in the rock.
I see a bird in the rock.
I see a whale in the water.
-Ibrahim

I will see bumpy and rough and maybe sparkly white stuff. My rock will have black little worms. I will see grass with flowers. It will be silent, not one peep...My rock is special, no rock in the world will be the same as mine. I will see a guy sitting the dark doing yoga because it is so quiet and peaceful. I see lots of little designs.
-Paulina

Genesis

2007-08-15T12:58:00.000-07:00

"On our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know poetry is like bread; it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity."
-Pablo Neruda

After a very successful pilot class at Wheeler Elementary (portfolio available here), our little project has expanded to five schools, thanks to a generous grant from the Vermont Arts Council. I am currently planning for fall and winter workshops, readings, and events. More updates as they come!