Some days it feels like I’m scraping the bottom of the peanut butter jar for ideas to entertain and inspire. I see my role as a teacher resembling the role of an inspirational speaker…although I admit I probably sit on the couch too often to be considered very inspirational. I don’t tell the kids what they need to know as much as I try to inspire them to go and figure things out for themselves. Some days it would just be a lot easier to sit everyone down and tell them to take notes. This happens every February/March.
On days when I am tempted to
a) begin lecturing,
b) question my own sanity,
c) lose my temper,
I know it’s time for a little pixie dust in the form of books on CD.
One of my high school English teacher’s classes began with a poetry reading every.single.day. He would write (in colored chalk) long poems on the south panel of his chalkboard for us to discuss. Did I *ever* take notes? Did I even *think* to keep a running list of the titles? NO! Aaaack! “Youth is wasted on the wrong people.” (It’s a Wonderful Life)
I have looked for a good collection of poems for children for years. This collection needed explanations and definitions and biographical information about the poets. The poems needed to be funny, entertaining, and meaningful to children.
This book is the best replacement I have found for my non-existent notes on poetry from 9th grade. I have pulled it out each spring for the past 3 years to get us through the rough times. I read a short lesson about a poet, which is maybe 3-5 paragraphs. We listen to the CD of an actor reading the poems and then discuss form, vocabulary, themes, etc. Then we go and write poetry of our own. We might have a little chocolate. But the important thing is we’re learning something and thinking and it’s DIFFERENT. The kids truly enjoy this book, which is slowly being digested over the years. Today we began the section about the poet who was a “Rebel without Applause,” Emily Dickinson.
The poetry which resulted after our little discussion about metaphor, minimal use of words, and emotion rather than description made me want to pat myself on the back and hug my kids. The poems will remain unpublished. You see, we’ve decided to closet our Emily Dickinsonesque poems in hidden panels of our desks to be discovered someday after we have died or had a yard sale and sold the furniture…whatever comes first.
