what did emily do?

20 compare and contrast term papers are sitting in my kitchen, The Bluest Eye is still not read (I teach it tomorrow), and it's past my bed time, but what do I want to do more than anything?  Well, other than lay out on the beaches of Maui... blog, of course.  

Last week was interesting.  I don't want to recap the drama, but instead I want to focus on one of the surprising highlights of the week.  With the second quarter right around the corner and with less than a week left before grades are due I decided to introduce my students to description and exposition (our next unit of study) via the kiddie pool, and plus, I really wasn't up for starting something new and complicated right away.  So, last Monday we started studying poetry (Billy Collins and Emily Dickinson to be exact).  It was dear Emily that got the kids stirring and excited to learn.  One class period was used to deconstruct her poem, "A Narrow Fellow in the Grass" and the next class period was used to emulate her art of description.  

For those who aren't too familiar with the poem, it's about a snake in the grass, but she never explicitly says that the poem is about a snake but because she's a master at description it was clear what the subject was.  So I printed out beautiful colored pictures for my kids (a lady bug, butterfly, frog, a NYC subway rat...) and had them write a highly descriptive poem about their subject but, just like Emily, never explicitly telling the reader what they are writing about.  

The students huddled into their groups excited, giggly, and laughing as they tried to create a poem about their subject that would stump their classmates.  There was that hum in the air that maybe only teachers know about.  The hum is something living, something that feels like active learning and engagement is taking place... it's like watching an elaborate machine work without a hitch, a glitch, or a skip.  At the end of their group time, the students shared their poems, kids were guessing everything from camels to an earth worm.  My most sleepiest students were awake and raising their hands to guess, my student with Autism was laughing with everyone else, and for the first time really seemed a part of the class.  As the kids were leaving, I reminded them to not tell the 7th period class what pictures the poems were going to be based on because I wanted them to have the same unadulterated experience.  But of course I said it in my bossy and my not-so-threatening teacher voice.

I could tell some were struggling to keep this a secret from their friends as they shifted glances back and forth across the room to their peers.  Right before I dismissed my kids for the day  one student raised his hand and asked, "Well, can we at least tell them that we had fun?"  I couldn't help but smile and wanted to hug the boy, but of course, my smile was short lived.  

"I'm gonna tell them we talked about zebras and mooses!"  yelled one student as everyone shuffled to exit the room.

Note to self: Monday, Nov. 10th... do a mini lesson on irregular plural nouns.

x,

Ms. P