Here's a lesson on...

Below are three lessons that I am including in my final project. Two focus on character development, and the other on dialogue. All lessons are for students in middle school. If the formatting doesn't look quite right it is because when I copied and pasted this from my Word document, some of the text and alignment was altered, especially in the lesson entitled "Let's talk about it". There initially was a table with two columns, one for scenario and the other for the three people that students had to write dialogue for. Sorry this didn't post clearly.

Developing Your Characters

Directions to the Student:
To really write impressive fiction you must develop your characters and start to think of them as real people, to go beyond describing them by just a few physical traits. Complete this character profile about the main character in a piece of fiction you hope to write. This should help you get to know your characters better.

NAME: AGE: HEIGHT: WEIGHT:
Birth place: Birth Date:
Eyes: Hair:
Other physical characteristics:

Marital status: Children:

Dress (Style, colors):


Description of where your character lives:



Best Friend:

Other friends:

Enemies and WHY:

Family:


How does your character react when around family? Friends? At work/in school?


The character thinks of him/herself as:


Others view the character as:


Sense of humor:

Temper:

Goals:

Educational background:


Work experience:


Habits:


Talents (what the character does well)


Hobbies:

Favorite author/actor/sports figure:

Your character can’t resist:


The worst part of your character’s life is:




The worst advice I ever received was:



What bothers your character:



To the Teacher:
This activity serves as a way of helping your students develop their character beyond the flat, static, characters that seem to dominate middle school writing. This profile should push students to think beyond physical characteristics to consider habits, goals, likes/dislikes, friends to how the character spends his/her time, where he/she lives and much more. This activity should be done before students begin writing their main piece of fiction.

Look Who is on Facebook

To the students:
In order to develop your character for your fiction writing, you first need to start thinking like your character. Here’s a way to “become” your character and use technology as well. Log on to Facebook, or if you don’t have access, as your teacher to print of a copy of profile screen from the site. Then, thinking as your character, fill out the details required in the Facebook Profile. Though you can’t add friends for real, also create a list of at least ten people that your character might invite to be friends. For example, if you are filling out the form as Bella from The Twilight Books, Edward, Jacob, Emmett, Alice, Rosalie, Jasper, Esme and Carlisle would be likely friends. After you’ve completed the profile, if you are doing it online, choose Print Screen and print a copy of the profile to turn in. In addition to your profile, create a list of at least five “Status” updates that your character might consider posting on Facebook.


To the Teacher:
Not all students will have access to Facebook, and some students simply might not have parent permission to do so. In this case, as a teacher you can go to profile and “print screen” and print copies of the profile to distribute to students for completion. If students have on-line access, they can do this online and print the screen for themselves. This should allow students to think like the character but do it in a contemporary way, using the popular social networking site. Following the assignment profiles should be deleted.

Let’s talk about it

To the students:
Read each on of the scenarios below and choose one that interests you. You will be writing three different sets of dialogue, each one will be between you and someone else. This activity will help you to practice your skills in manipulating language choice, how you talk, and the words you use, depending on who you are talking with. Remember you will be writing three separate sets of dialogue but for the same scenario.
Scenario People with whom you will dialogue with
You witnessed/participated in a fight Parents/guardians
Principal
Best Friend
You decide you “like” someone in your class Best Friend
The person you like
Your mom who wants to know if you like anyone at school
You found out a friend is about ready to do something really dangerous Your friend
A guidance counselor
Another friend
You just got your report card and you got all As A friend at the lunch table
Your grandma or other relative
A teacher who really helped you
Your coach is playing favorites and never lets you play, even though you’re good A teammate
Your coach
Your parent/guardian


To the Teacher:
In this activity students will have to write distinct sets of dialogue that should reflect how we all speak to different people in different ways, given different circumstances. We make different choices about how we talk, what words we use and how we deliver our ideas. To start this activity choose one of the scenarios and model at least two sets of dialogue to help students understand how our dialogue changes based on the situation.

Plot and Story Elements

Hmmm. My plot example seems kind of wimpy. I didn't really fall in love with the three sentences, three words per line idea. I mean, yes it is a concise way to tell a story but... it seems so... boring that way!!!

How did we get here?

The woman in the passenger seat of the Dodge Grand Caravan slapped her husband’s arm and he slammed on the breaks seconds before crashing into the car in front of him. Instead of watching the road his eyes had been taking in the chaos in the backseat. His four children were throwing goldfish crackers at one another and giggling hysterically. The man’s wife snapped at him, “Just watch where you’re going!” before opening a Parents magazine and starting to read. “We could have been at the beach if you hadn’t forgotten the beach bag.”

A man and woman in a silver Saturn Ion held hands across the consol while reminiscing about the past week’s events. Their seven-day honeymoon on the beach had been the perfect way to unwind after a year of hectic wedding plans. Now they were returning to the city with mixed emotions, sad to be leaving behind a bit of paradise but eager to get back to the city and begin their lives together

What was supposed to have been a mundane Sunday morning in her seaside getaway on the Delmarva Peninsula quickly turned into a nightmare for Beth. After her mother’s frantic phone call to her cell this morning to inform her that her father had suffered a heart attack while going out to get the paper this morning, she was in a hurry to get to the hospital to be at his side. She gripped the steering wheel with one hand and dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex with the other while recalling the day her father helped her move into her first home and kissed her good-bye. On that same day he told her how he wasn’t sure how he would ever adjust to her being so far from home.

Josh could hardly maneuver his black Ford Escape and keep his eyes on his wife at the same time. It seemed like a great idea to come to the beach to unwind a bit before the baby came next month. But now here he was, stuck in traffic with Liz curled up in the fetal position in the backseat. They’d just finished breakfast when Liz complained of sharp pains. They passed but four minutes later she was again doubled over, gasping for breath. Now, here they were, stuck in traffic, contractions coming every three minutes and Josh looking frantically for an opening in the traffic that could get his wife safely to the hospital before the baby came.

Plot in Three Sentences, Three Words
Mother loses Baby
Mother looks for Baby
Mother finds baby

Sounding real

Sounding Real

I do believe that one can learn a lot about a person by listening to his/her speech. As a teacher I feel like this is an area that I don’t not address enough. I feel like so often kids are encouraged to write people and dialogue as they think a teacher will want to read it as, what I mean by this is that the grammar needs to be correct, the sentences complete, etc. This isn’t always how “real” people talk, and using plain English minus personality is just plain boring! So I’ll give this a try.

“How y’all doing? Oh sweetie, you’re lookin a little tired. I was just fixin to have some lunch. Why don’t you sit down here and I’ll bring us some sweet tea and we can catch up. I’ve been meanin to call you about this book I just read. You are going to die. I love it, LOVE it.”
-My southern belle English methods professor

“Ms J. dis kid, he be messin with me and my stuff and if I has to sit by him one more minute I is going to beat his brains out.”
-African American student

“Lisa, it has been such an extended period of time since we’ve had a chance to dialogue. Tell me, what literature have you and your fellow classmates been reading? Have you selected a topic for your thesis? Or is that dissertation? Have you had the fortunate experience of reading bell hooks in any of your course? You have. Don’t you just find her work so enlightening? Tell me, what is your prospect on her work?”
A friend with a tendency to overuse and misuse big words unnecessarily to come across as an intellect.

“Momma. Kaily just hit me and I told him not to hit and he said that he could hit but I couldn’t tell you because I’d be a tattle tale but I am not being a tattle tale, I am just telling you.”
Four year old child

“Ms. Johnson, I am sorry to have to tell you this but it is not good news. Based on my examination today and Friday’s blood work, it appears that the graft has failed. You are not thriving so it seems only natural to go ahead and get things in place to seek another cornea donor. I’ll talk to my tech and get your name on the list and we’ll go from there. Do you have any questions?”
Doctor

April 13 class material

Hi everyone,
Sorry I didn't post sooner. I spent the last week "vacationing" in Washington DC with 22 middle school students and I'm just now getting back into the swing of things. Here is my writing on point of view and the engagement party.

The Engagement Party

“And you must be?” the airy voice asked, more out of obligation than actual interest.
“Oh, I’m Lisa, the groom-to-be’s sister-in-law.” I replied. I extended my hand toward her but dropped it quickly to my side as the plasticy woman fanned herself with her right hand, and clung to her glass of champagne with her left.
“Oh, isn’t it lovely that you could join us. I’m Marjorie. What is it that you do?”
“I’m a teacher. I teach seventh grade English.” I always share this fact with pride but brace for the all-too-common, “oh my God, how do you do it?” But this time, that didn’t happen.
“Ohh,” the word fell from her lips with disgust. “Well, I guess you must at least be grateful to have a job,” she went on to respond, as if it were absolutely impossible that I actually loved to teach.
“I don’t mind it. I find the job very unpredictable and the kids are fabulous.” Wanting to shift the attention away from me I attempted to direct the conversation into safer territory. “What is it that you do for work?”
The horrified look on her face told me that, what I should have asked was, “Do you work?” because she sniffed and tossed her head back and laughed. “Work, I haven’t had to work for years. Jerome, my husband, sees to all of my needs.” In taking a closer look at her I realized just how true this was, fake boobs, surgeon-crafted nose, lips perfectly plumped, that didn’t happen by accident.
I had had enough of this so I started looking for a way out. Before I could get away though Marjorie went on. “Can you believe that someone would bring their child to an engagement party? I’m sure you agree being with children all day that those little monsters shouldn’t mix with adults.”
“You know,” I said, trying to reign in my temper, “I would like to stay and chat but I have to tend to my little monster. She’s falling asleep in her daddy’s arms.” I downed the last of my champagne and set the glass down on the mahogany bar and strode away toward the bride-to-be, leaving Barbie-doll Aunt Marjorie standing alone with her mouth hanging open.


Holly called out, “Honey, get me some more!” as she thrust an empty wine glass into her sweetheart’s surprised face. He obediently uncorked the $100 a bottle Riesling and filled her glass and placed the glass carefully in his bride-to-be’s hand. “Thanks honey,” she giggled too loudly.
Bryce put his arm around Holly only to be shrugged off. “Come on honey!” she tugged on his hand. “Lighten up! You know what you need? A drink!” She called to her brother to get a Corona from behind the bar.
Corey thrust the bottle into Bryce’s hand and leaned over and whispered, “hope you can keep up with her,” he nodded towards Holly who had just made herself comfortable in the lap of Brent, one of the groomsmen. Even over the excited chatter of relatives and friends in the room, Bryce could hear her making plans with the wedding party about what bar would be the first stop on their pub crawl through downtown Hudson after the lame-o engagement party broke up.
Bryce felt someone come up behind him and he turned to find himself staring into the concerned face of his father. “Looks like Holly’s having a good time,” he said.
“Yeah! It has been a great party,” Bryce responded unconvincingly. He watched Holly and three of her college roommates count to three before taking shots of Tequila Rose.
“Looks like you found yourself a wild one,” his father commented. The two men watched on as Holly tried to untangle herself from Brent’s lap and stand up, only to stumble into the coffee table, sending drinks spilling to the floor. “Keep an eye on her,” Bryce’s father offered weakly. “Looks like you’ll have your hands full.”

April 6, 2010 part 2: Dialogue

Not quite a fight

This dialogue, or one almost like it, took place between a student and me last week.

Jake approached me while I graded used the last minute before class started to finalize next week’s lesson plans.

S: Hey, you marked me unexcused on Tuesday afternoon.

Mrs. J: Yes, I did.

S: Well, why?

Mrs. J: I marked you absent because after lunch you didn’t return to class between lunch and when we went to see part two of Mr. Scott’s presentation.

S: I didn’t know we were supposed to come back.

Mrs. J: Do you remember that before you left for lunch I reminded everyone to come back to homeroom before going to the speaker?

S: Well, yeah.

Mrs. J: So, why didn’t you come back?

S: Well, everyone else was walking to the auditorium so I just went with them.

Mrs. J: Was everyone else with their TA teachers?

S: Yeah.

Mrs. J: So that should have been a reminder to you that you were supposed to come here.

S: I don’t see what the big deal was.

Mrs. J: Well, you got marked unexcused because you weren’t here. I guess to you that is a big deal.

S: Well, you marked me unexcused at the end of the day too.

Mrs. J: Yes. I did that because you never returned to class after the speaker was done.

S: But you told me I could go to the bathroom.

Mrs. J: Yes I did, but I did that at 2:40. When you weren’t back at 2:55 when class ended, you became absent.

S: That is so stupid.

Mrs. J: It is not stupid Jake. Attendance is a teacher’s way of knowing where you are in case something happens.

S: Yeah well now the office called my parents and I got in trouble all because you marked me absent so it is stupid.

Mrs. J: I’m sorry you feel that way Jake but that is how things work. You need to be responsible about being where you need to be. That’s the end of it.

S: (walking away) God, this is so dumb. You never listen to anything I say. This is dumb, stupid attendance, stupid speaker. I was just in the bathroom. God…

Mrs. J: Jake, that’s enough. You don’t need to disrupt the entire class with your angry comments. We’ve got learning to do.

S: But

Mrs. J: Jake, we’re done.


Summarized Dialogue:

I answered the phone and before I could even utter the usual pleasantries she was off, telling me it had been forever since we’d talked and we needed to catch up. She asked how I was and I responded with an unenthusiastic “fine” before asking her what was new. She started by telling me that the house was up for sale an that she and Mike had made an offer on a house on the Southside. “I know, Southside, expensive right? But we can do it I think. It just means no more spending anything ever.” She listed the things that she wouldn’t be able to do, no more late night movies, amazon browsing or trips to McDonalds with the kids. I asked what Mike would be sacrificing and I think that was the only time during the conversation that she paused. “Nothing I guess” she mused. I asked her if this was something she really wanted to do and she jumped in to describe the house to me: wood floors, acres of land, single level, five bedrooms, huge kitchen. I thought it sounded amazing. “Of course this will mean that Jilli and Alli will have to change schools and Cori and Maddi won’t be able to go to Rachel’s Place for 4K but we’ll deal with it.” I told her that I was sure that she would find an equally wonderful 4K site on the Southside because of course that is where all the rich families lived, rich families not like us. She agreed saying that it was hard to believe that she could be “one of those” families living in a $250,000 home. I couldn’t even imagine that I said, especially between buying diapers, paying for daycare, and affording the mortgage on our $130,000 home. “Your home is cute” she said, but her words sort of hung there in the air, like she couldn’t think of anything better to say. Then she raced on saying she needed to go because Cori was drawing on Maddi with a marker and Jilly needed to be picked up from school and Alli needed to go to dance. “Talk to you later” she said and hung up as I said goodbye.

April 6, 2010 part 1: Point of View

Here's part one, point of view. Part two will come in time. Great things come to those who wait, right??
A childhood memory as I remember it

My little sister sat in the middle of the kitchen floor in her turquoise jammies. She sounded like a seal as she cried so hard. I covered my ears and asked my mom why she wouldn’t stop crying. My mom covered the receiver of the phone and told me to be quiet because she was on the phone with someone important. I sat next to Lorie on the floor and tried to give her my Barbie doll to make her stop crying but she just cried harder and barked more. My mom hung up the phone and I followed her as she went into my bedroom and started packing my going-to-grandma’s bag. I asked her if I was going to grandma’s and she said yes. I asked her why and she told me that Lorie was sick and had to go to the hosibal. I started jumping around and my mommy told me to be quiet and find my smurf blankie. I went back to the kitchen and brought Lorie my gizmo doll and told her that I was going to grandma’s and she was going to the hosibal to get better. Her face was so red and she was crying so hard that I started to cry too. My mommy came and sat on the kitchen floor with us until my grandma and grandpa got to our house. Grandma told me it was time to go but I told her I couldn’t. I had my jimmies on, I couldn’t go with jimmies on, I needed clothes. Grandpa picked me up and told me he would carry me. I was scared when we went outside. It was dark and the wind was blowing so hard that grandpa had to hold on to me so tight so I wouldn’t blow away. I saw the lightning and started to cry when thunder came so loud it hurt my ears. I fell asleep in the backseat of the car and didn’t wake up until the morning. For two dark naps I stayed at my grandma’s house. I ate lots of cookies and read books and had tea parties. One day grandma told me we had to go back home. When we got back to my house my grandma told me I would have to be very careful. When I got out of the car my dad was there with a loud machine. He was cutting tree branches. I started to cry. On the night that Lorie had to go to the hosibal a bad storm came to my house and made a tree fall down on my swing set. Now I didn’t have anything to play on. My daddy told me to go in the house and see my sister. I didn’t want to. I went back to my grandma’s car and got in and sat in the backseat. This was all Lorie’s fault. If she wouldn’t have gotten sick my daddy could have been there to catch the tree and save my swing set.

The reminiscent narrator
I heard the telltale seal-like bark of my sister’s cough as soon as I cam into the kitchen. There Lorie sat in the middle of the kitchen floor surrounded by teethers and baby keys, blocks and balls, probably Mom’s attempt at soothing her. Her red face and blue lips provided a stark contrast to her pale turquoise sleeper. On and on she cried, and I wanted her to stop but at the same time I was so scared for her. I’d never her seen her like this before.
I heard my mom’s voice, urgently explaining, “She’s been like this for two hours… yes, I’ve tried the shower, I’ve taken her outside, nothing is working!” Her voice danced on the edge of hysteria. It scared me to see my mom like this so I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her leg.
“Mommy, what’s wrong with Lorie?” My voice sounded little and scared.
“Shhh, I’m on the phone with someone important,” she shook me off her leg and pushed me back in the direction of the baby. I crawled over to my baby sister and offered her a toy. She pushed it away and cried on.
I heard Mom hang up the phone and I followed her as she left the kitchen and walked into my bedroom. I plodded after her, the feet of my sleeper making shh shh shh sounds on the wood floor as I walked. “What are you doing?” I wanted to know as I watched her open the drawers of my dresser and throw clothes into my Raindow Brite duffle bag.
“I have to take your sister to the hospital. She’s sick,” she explained. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what she packed or how much. As she threw one thing after another into the bag without stopping to match things like she usually did, and as she struggled to zip the bag, I started to wonder how long I’d be gone. I was just about to ask when she said, “Get your smurf blankie so you’re ready when your grandma and grandpa get here.”
I hurried off to find my blankie. I didn’t want to give her any reason to be angry with me because she already sounded mad. Maybe it was because Lorie was sick, or maybe it was because she was alone with two kids while my dad was gone on another long trip. Either way, I didn’t want to make things worse. I found my blanket stuffed under a cushion on the couch and my Gizmo doll lying next to it. I decided I would give this to Lorie for good luck. Gizmo, of course, could conquer evil, at least that is what I learned from watching the Gremlins movies.
I went back into the kitchen and saw my mom sitting on the floor next to Lorie, holding her in her lap. I sat down next to her and handed Lorie my Gizmo doll. “Is Lorie going to be okay?” I asked. I could feel tears prickling in my eyes because as I watched my little sister wheeze and cough I wondered if she’d be okay.
“I don’t know honey,” my mom answered.
We sat there in the middle of the kitchen floor together rocking back and forth. Suddenly the kitchen door opened and in walked my grandparents, stomping their feet and panting. “It is terrible out there!” my grandma huffed!
I didn’t really understand what they meant but I jumped to my feet, eager for a night with my favorite people. All at once I realized, I was only wearing pajamas. “I can’t go like this! I don’t have clothes on!” I giggled.
Before I knew what was happening my grandfather gathered me into his arms and started walking out the door. “You can’t be walking out there anyways. You’ll blow away!” he said. My grandma picked up my purple duffle and closed the door behind us. I don’t even remember saying goodbye to my sister or mother. My mind was on the fun that was to come at my grandparents’ house.
Once outside I threw my arms around my grandpa’s neck and buried my face in his chest. The wind tore at us and I felt like it was trying to tear me away from my grandfather’s fierce grip. A streak of lightening zigzagged through the sky and barely a second passed before thunder roared in my ears. I started to cry, afraid that the storm would get me and take me away. I felt the reassuring hand of my grandfather on my back, patting me and his voice, loud over the thunder promising that everything would be all right.
Grandpa balanced me on one arm while he opened the back door of the car and settled me in the backseat. As we drove away the voices of my grandparents lulled me to sleep.
I woke the next morning as sun streamed through the window brightening the walls of my apricot colored bedroom. I gathered my blanket into my arms and padded down the stairs and into the kitchen where I found my grandparents waiting, ready to fill my day with cookies, games and adventures.
For two days the only reminder I had of my ailing sister were the phone calls I received from my parents, calling from the hospital to check in on me. Lorie was fine, they assured me, just croup, and she’d be home soon. I could hear Lorie playing with Gizmo in the background, his telltale “squeak, squeak,” was all the evidence I needed to know that things would be okay. For the time I was the recipient of all of the love that my grandparents possibly could share with me. We read books, shared stories, drew pictures and I combed the Sears catalog making plans for my letter to Santa.
After waking from my nap on the third day at my grandparents’ house I sadly helped my grandma pack up my belongings. She seemed just as wistful as I felt. We drove in almost silence to my home,. As we pulled in the driveway I could tell that something wasn’t right. My dad was home and I could hear the “whirrrr” of the chainsaw, a sound I didn’t often hear on our farm.
When I got out of the car and started to run to my dad’s side a stern hand stopped me, “be careful,” my grandfather warned. It was then that I realized exactly what wasn’t right. Where once stood a hundred year old oak was a hole, and a tangle of angry branches. The trunk, almost as tall as me at first obscured my view but my determination to assess the entire situation propelled me on and I climbed over the mountainous limb only to come face to face with my worst nightmare. There, not ten feet in front of me was a pile of mangled metal intertwined with thorny branches and a monstrous trunk of tree.
I ran to the swing and tried to climb on but I could feel my father’s arms around me, pulling me back. “It is too dangerous honey.” I pushed at his arms until he let go of me and I ran to my grandparents’ car, opened the back door and climbed in. I buried my face in the seat of the car and began to cry. In a fit of five-year old rage I cried out in shrieks, and somehow, my parents and grandparents must have known that the very best thing to do was to leave me alone with my heartbreak. For I truly believed, as children often do, that if only we would have been home, my dad, who could do anything, would have been able to run outside and catch the tree before it split my swing set into pieces. As a five year old I couldn’t have known that it was God’s will that took us away from our home that night and saved our lives, and not Lorie’s fault for being sick that broke my swing and my five year old heart.

Creative Writing, Exercising my writing muscles

March 26, 2010
Exercises in Creative writing

Beginnings: Exercise 2: The History of a Story
“I’d never given much thought to how I would die- in Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight is the line I have selected for this exercise.

Before this line was written Bella Swan would have left her mother and moved to Forks to live with her Father. Her parents would have been married, had Bella and would have already been divorced for quite some time. Bella’s mother had moved away and Bella’s father stayed behind in Forks. Edward, Esme, Carlisle, Rosalie, Emmet, Jasper and Alice would have already been turned into vampires, would have moved to Forks, and had been living under cover for a least several months. The Volturi empire would have been built. The werewolves and the vampires would have already developed their treaty. The werewolf culture and the reservation would have already had a long history. Bella’s dad had already purchased her a car therefore letting the reader know that Mr. Swan would have been sharing with people that his daughter was coming to live with him. Bella’s dad got her a computer and prepared her a room.

When I started thinking about everything that would have had to happen before the first line of the book I was surprised. Though I always read books and understand that I am often thrown into the middle of something, I never deliberately have stopped to think about just how much happens before a book begins. Wow.

Beginnings: Exercise 3: Opposites

Birth and Death
Staring into those bright blue innocent eyes, for the first time Lily understood what unconditional love truly meant.

The early October day was cloaked in black and heaven’s tears flowed with my own.

Love and Divorce
I heard the unmistakable chords of, “Can’t Help Fallin’ in Love,” before I opened the door to find him down on one knee, a velvet box balanced gingerly in his hand.

Happily ever after was three kids, a thirty-year mortgage and a thousand flimsy excuses ago.

Autumn/Winter
“On three, one, two, three!” McKail launched himself off the porch and squeals of laughter echoed in the crisp October air as he landed in a blanked of leaves.

Reid slowly accelerated and could feel the wheels of her Dodge caravan spinning in protest. “Come on,” she urged and she turned on the wipers on high to battle the white monster that rendered the world outside her windows almost non-existent.

Journals and Memoirs

Exercise 8: People from the Past; Character in the future

She was like a tornado, able to tear a path through a room, throwing angry words and biting insults like cloud to ground lightning. I held my breath around her, waiting to test her mood like I would test food before taking a bite. If she was angry I would look for any excuse to get out, or do anything I could to appease her. The dishes would always be done, the clothes folded, the floors vacuumed. But there would always be something that was not done correctly. Then she would come for me. “You are just like your father. Why don’t you just get out. Leave. I don’t want you here.” One day I came home to find my belongings in the driveway. My sister was always good enough, but then again, she wasn’t blind.

Now my mom calls, but asks to speak to the kids. She buys her way into their hearts, makes them promises for fun weekends away, for big surprises, leaving me to dry their tears when she breaks their hearts time and again, just like she did to me. Someday they will learn that Nana’s gifts are just material things, guilt has a hefty price tag. Love costs nothing. She asks how I’m doing, but can’t remember that I’m getting my PhD, not my masters. She plans a baby shower for my sister on the weekend that we will be in Florida, a trip we’ve had planned and for which we’ve been saving for two years, and this is my fault that I won’t be there. I am the traitor. That is my mother.

In the future she will die too young, a victim of her own addictions to beer and cigarettes. Maybe one day she’ll be sorry that she told me I was a freak. Maybe she won’t She’ll continue to have excuses for why she can’t come to our house, the other kids have games/jobs/driver’s ed/camp/etc. What she really means is our house is too chaotic, three kids and a cat are too much for her. Our family-centered lifestyle is everything that her life with us was not. Maybe it makes her feel guilty. She’ll tell my daughter of the fun times she used to have with me when I was a kid, most of them lies, things she knew she should have done, things I actually did with my grandma. In my dreams I want her to apologize in the future, to say she loves me, and mean it.

Exercise 9: Mining Memory
10 things that made me angry
-The principal told a fellow co-worker that her, “presence in the building ruins my day,” and she meant it!
-The incompetent DI trainer did not have her act together and blamed all of her mistakes on the innocent volunteers
-I spilled hot coffee on my hand after someone walked into me after not watching where he was going
-Our text for this class considers blind people and paraplegics as absentee dwellers. The Nerve!
-I needed a white sweater to wear over a dress and the store had every size except the one I needed
-The school talent show is tomorrow and no one is helping me so I need to make the program, burn the master CD, find costumes and put up the set AND teach tomorrow. That’s okay everyone, I’ve got it! Don’t do a thing, that’s fine.
-Instead of putting his pull-up in the garbage, McKail put it in the laundry and it crystalized all over a clean load of laundry. Ugh.
-The husband made me tell the kids it was time for bath and bed so I had to be the mean parent while he got to be the nice one
-I got a migraine headache and couldn’t sleep for three hours last night
-A student told me he didn’t give a Sh—about this Sh---- place we call school because he’s not going to do sh—for the rest of the year anyways.
-There were nine kids in in-school suspension of Friday afternoon and 41 minutes took about 3 hours to pass by.


10 things that made me happy
-Nadirah signed please without being prompted when she wanted a cracker.
-The chicken and dumplings turned out perfectly
-My grandma sent me a package in the mail, just because
-Someone from church donated money to our child’s tuition. Thank you fellow St. James person I don’t know.
-Our daughter won drawing for $500 off our Catholic school tuition next year. Thank you God!
-Macaroni and Cheese, the good Kraft kind, was on sale for .25 cents this week. Bonus.
-A good friend stopped in to see me at school and invited us out to dinner to celebrate our departure from our current positions.
-Nadirah, McKail and Nevaeh slept through the night two nights in a row. Whoohoo!
-I took a nap on Saturday afternoon and said no to everyone and actually had three hours to relax.
-I found a gift card that I thought had gotten thrown away so I didn’t have to pay for my new pair of shoes.

Characterization
Exercise 13: Funny, you don’t look seventy-five

Suggestions
-If older, has an AARP card, sets senior discount at restaurants, stores
-Condition of vision, bifocals, trifocals, reading glasses
-Health conditions, high blood pressure or heart conditions
-hearing, “what” a lot might indicate an older person, hearing aids worn
=Still gets carded might indicate that a person is, or looks like they are close to 21, when people LIKE to get carded are after they are 30, then it is like a compliment
-Talk of retirement, Social security, Medicare, then the person might be older
-Teeth, wearing of braces might mean the character is a pre-teen or teen, if dentures are present then maybe they are older.
-Age spots of older people
-Movement, more stiff with age, slower, more aches and pains, might need mobility aids like canes or walkers and wheel chairs possibly.
-Older people might tire easily, take naps each day, go to bed earlier.

I personally don’t feel very comfortable with this list because I believe these are almost all stereotypical things projected on people of certain ages. Like, for example I can think of young people that have vision and hearing problems, health issues.

Exercise 19: Deny everything

Misty’s heart raced as she waited for just the right time to corner Chris. She knew she’d been quiet all night and he’d asked her more than once if she was okay but she brushed him off but she couldn’t wait any longer. She took in a shaky breath and asked, “So, who is Nicole?”

“Nicole? Nicole who?” Chris asked nonchalantly.

“That’s what I want to know,” Misty voice wavered as she went forward with the questions she’d been rehearsing all afternoon since reading the text. “I found your phone.”

“Yeah, so. What are you saying?”

“Don’t play innocent. Who is she?” she was yelling now and tears stung her eyes.

“Misty, you’re crazy. I don’t know any Nicole.” His voice contained a trace of something, was it fear?

“That’s funny because she certainly knows you.”

“Oh my God. This is so stupid, you’re overreacting.”

“Hey sexy. Can’t wait 2 c u again. Tell Misty u have to work late. I’ll b waiting. What am I supposed to think about that?” She read from the text through heaving sobs.

“It must have been a wrong number. You know I would never cheat on you.”

“Right, the wrong number to a man whose wife is also named Misty.”

“Misty, I’d never do that to you.”

“Huh, liar!”

Unfinished

At long last, here's my last piece for this week, by far my least favorite. I feel the poem is weak and needs some work on language, and I don't particularly like the ending at all but I wasn't sure how to end. As I wrote this poem I was thinking about how, when we are little, the things that scare us don't seem so scary when we are grown ups looking back on childhood. Fear, and scary situations evolve with time. For example, shorting out our microwave because I left a spoon and paper plate inside seemed pretty scary at the time, but now it is quite the family joke. But almost losing my son,... that experience changed me as a person in a way that I cannot explain and I don't think that situation will ever be one on which I can look back and say, that wasn't so scary. So, anyways, rambling aside, here's my third piece for this week. Criticism welcome. And, I couldn't get the formatting right when I copied and pasted this from word so if it looks strange, that is why!
Untitled

In the fall of 1984 I got off the bus at the wrong stop and wandered down a country road
for two hours before being picked up and returned to my home thanks to an
address label sown onto my backpack

In the winter of 1985 I woke in my bed screaming for my mother but it was my dad who
came and reminded me that Mom lived in her own house now

In the spring of 1987 I tried to make chocolate chip cookies and almost burned our
building down because I didn’t know you couldn’t put a paper plate and a metal spoon in the microwave

In the summer of 1994 I hunkered down in the back of a van in a gravel pit in South
Dakota while a tornado cut a path through a cornfield less than a football field away

In the fall of 1996 I stared with horror at the D on my trigonometry test and wondered
how I would ever escape the quick hand and disappointing eyes of my parents

In the summer of 1998 I walked into the Satan’s lair with nothing but a shovel and a
water pack hoping to save myself and the 300 campers at our burning summer camp

In the fall of 2003 I accepted a ring from a guy I’d only known for seven months,
graduated from college and signed my name on a $135,000 home loan

In the winter of 2007 I pleaded with God, begged my newborn son to take a breath, to
hold on to life and he did not respond

In the seconds and the minutes of the days of the weeks of seasons of the years, fear
has found me and I have prevailed

Before Now

So my initial goal for this week's writing was to write poems that I could share with my students. Though I have been trying, sitting, staring at my computer for the last several days, I kept coming up with nothing. Tuesday's deadline for three pages of writing came and went and at that time I had only posted one piece that I thought appropriate for sharing with my students. I have never been in a position before where I have been absolutely paralyzed by writing, particularly this goal of writing for my students. I finally had to let go of that idea for now and resort back to writing something that I could write, pieces about my family, my job, my grown-up life because, honestly, being a grownup is pretty challenging right now and I think I'm so wrapped up in sick kids, education and the things of adulthood that I couldn't escape it this week. So, long story short, sorry that my last two posts are late. I tried mightily to get them done but writer's block was definitely a factor!

Before now

Before I was a mother

My purse, the size of a pencil case
Easily held lip gloss, money and Playtex
With room to spare

Saturdays began around eleven
Lazily sipping coffee, cozy on the couch
With my choice of book

A load of laundry could stretch a week
Clothes, washed, folded, ironed
Within an afternoon

Plans were made on a whim
Dinner and a movie, a trip to the mall
Without a second thought

Now that I’m a mother

My mommy-bag holds the world
Diapers, sippies and cracker crumbs
Glue stick? How’d that get in there?

Saturdays begin before sunrise
TV on by 6 to buy a few more minutes rest
Thank you Disney Channel

Which to do next, lights or darks?
Load number seven this week
Tide, my friend, let’s get busy

Carrie’s busy, so is Reid
So much for that Saturday night movie
Oh well, maybe next month.

Today on Facebook

One of the challenges that I have faced in this class so far is that I haven’t written much, well, anything really, that I could share with my students. It is very easy to write what I am living, but the life that I lead as a teacher, mother of three, PhD student, and at times, cynical teacher, is not very appropriate or applicable to the lives of my students. I want to be able to share with them things that I have read, and I have done this in the past and the students have always been very receptive which makes me wonder why I don’t write more, and then I remember it is because I don’t have a lot of time. But I do like to write, and I do not mind sharing my work with kids. So, my goal for this week’s poetry was to write things that I plan to share with my students. I tried to write about things that they can relate to or appreciate.

My first attempt is entitled, “Today on Facebook” and it is a melding together of status updates from my facebook account. I am fortunate to have five younger siblings, four of whom are still in elementary, middle and high school and so a lot of what is written here are direct quotes, and very close renditions of things that they have written. I believe the students will appreciate the unique attempt to create a poem from status updates (which to them would maybe be a novel concept) and I also hope the students find this poem to be relatable to things they may have written or read on facebook. It was an attempt at using something very popular to capture poetry, something the kids often associate with old, dead, white guys.


Today of Facebook

Chelsea is having a girly day
While in a relationship with Mikey
Who just wants a little respect
From his mom, Amy, who can’t believe kids these days

Logan wonders who invented homework
And Jeremy agrees as he writes his THIRD paper this week
Betsie chimes in and wants to know
Why Facebook didn’t include a link that says DISLIKE

Angie, and seven other friends are attending
Luke’s Surprise birthday party on Saturday at 7
But Dani can’t go because she’s stuck at home babysitting (again)
And Laura says it won’t be the same without her there

Mark is hosting a barn raising in Farmville
But Kenna won’t be there because she’s busy in Fishville
Saving a small manta ray whose fin is stuck in a lobster trap
While Tami just leveled up in Mafia Wars

Holly is having Just another Manic Monday via Facbook mobile
And while Nikki loves that song
Stephanie totally understands that feeling
And Jason is already waiting for the weekend at 9:02am on Monday

Cecilia and 1, 303, 838 others are fans of the film New Moon
While Liu joined the group I love Edward Cullen
Amanda joined Team Jacob and just finished reading
Breaking Dawn and omgstephaniemeyerhurryupandwritesomemore

Brian changed his relationship status to “It’s Complicated”
And Shannon agrees that love is not worth the stress
But Aaron and Beth make it FB official
And publicly share that they are dating

Elaine joined the group Grandparents on Facebook
And hopes to see everyone at her house on Easter Sunday at noon
Erin does not remember a life without Facebook
And Lisa wouldn’t want to

The Storm that Was

Here's one of Sara Holbrook's poems that I particularly like, not only for the content, but also for how the poem itself is like the building up and dwindling away of a storm.

The Storm that Was
By Sara Holbrook
From: I Never Said I Wasn’t Difficult

Me?
I rolled in like a storm,
darkening the room,
ominously rumbling,
then erupting with a BOOM!

I HATE PEOPLE.
I HATE SCHOOL.
I HATE WHAT’S HOT.
I HATE WHAT’S COOL.
I CAN’T STAND RIDING BUSES.
ALL MY FRIENDS ARE MEAN.
THE WORLD IS GUACAMOLE
AND
I HATE THE COLOR GREEN.

And you?
You didn’t run for cover
or have that much to say.
You listened to my cloudburst.

And the storm?
It blew away.


What I like:
-Use of capital letters to illustrate the storm
-Shorter, fewer lines a the end, like a storm dwindling away
-Presence of onomatopoeia “Boom”
-The use of rhyming isn’t forced, but is effective when used
-I love the line: “The world is Guacamole and I hate the color green”
-The poem is something my students can relate to, just feeling so mad and then once they’ve had their chance to speak out, they settle down

Using this poem to teach:
-How lines and letters can be manipulated to illustrate an event, in this case, a storm building and then dying away
-The capital letters are like the height of the storm, they look angry, all big and shouty. We, as writers can make our poems do things that illustrate an event.
-Rhyming can be used when it fits but doesn't have to be used throughout a poem.

So I like Sara Holbrook, not in an Edgar Allen Poe sort of way but she's cool

Sara Holbrock
Poetry Books by this author include:
I never said I wasn’t Difficult
Am I Naturally this Crazy?
By Definition
Walking on the Boundaries of Change
The Dog Ate my Homework
Wham, It’s a Poetry Jam, Discovering Performance Poetry
More than Friends: Love
Sara Holbrook has also written and co-authored other books for younger children.

What I appreciate about Sara Holbrook’s work is that the middle school students are able to relate to the poems she is writing. Her poems capture the identity crises that students feel in middle school, the plight of fitting in, falling into “like” with someone, feeling alone, developmental changes, fights with friends, and feeling confused. Students can find respite and sometimes even humor in the words of her poetry. Her work is so different from the more traditional works of the poets so often taught in middle school. Students “get it” and I this is something I appreciate the most about Sara’s work. It isn’t so fluffy and silly that the students think that they are being patronized and being spoken down to like the work of Jack Prelutsky (for example, though I do LOVE his work too for younger children). It is just very “real to life”.

Sara Holbrook began writing poetry as a child and as she states on her blog, writes poems for the not-so-bad, kids, not unlike the kind of child that she considered herself to be when she was growing up, a little grumpy at times, but all and all, good kids. I believe this type of writing appeals to most pre-teens and teens because most of them are “not-so-bad” kids caught up in a tough time developmentally As a teacher of 12-13 year olds, I read these poems and I can “see” certain students living out these poems. I’ve thought to myself, “this poem totally describes Matt or Lexie”. The kids appreciate the writing too and they seem almost surprised that Sara Hobrook is able to capture their experiences in a poem.

Sara Holbrook not only writes poems but she also performs them, something we’ve been recently addressing in class. She writes that, “a poem doesn’t really come alive until it is read aloud.” This ties in well with our discussion last week on performance poetry. There is something about listening to a poem being read aloud that makes it different somehow, more alive, more real. I have read poems many times but when I’ve heard them read to me, listened to someone else breathe life into the meaning of the poem, I’ve enjoyed it so much more. Ms. Holbrook does have one video on YouTube during which she is sharing a poem. Though it isn’t my favorite poetry performance (by far), but she still uses pauses, rate and emotion to add something to what otherwise might have been just a “quick read” kind of poem. This performance, found at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ff0Mdd-mdQ wouldn’t be one that I’d show my students, it still gave me a better sense of the voice behind the writer of these teen-focused poems. I liked the line where she says with a LONG pause, “my hair brown, hers…… purple” (very drawn out) because I have thought this, and I am sure kids and parents and teachers have often had this kind of reaction as well when meeting someone with unique features. Her poems are real. I like that.

Learn more about Sara Holbrook at her blog: http://saraholbrook.blogspot.com/ or read some samples of her work at: http://www.readinglady.com/mosaic/tools/sara%20holbrook%20poems.pdf

Spoken Word Video and reflection

Every teacher needs to check out this link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxsOVK4syxU
I've read this poem in an email that gets forwarded around our district about once a year but hearing it, seeing it preformed was SO much more effective and I had this urge to forwarded this video link to everyone I've ever met that has commented on teachers having to work only 9 months, having plenty of vacations, being overpaid, undereducated, and about a thousand other ignorant ways to describe how easy teachers have got it made.

what's no so good?
how is it a 'poem' as well as a performance?


This video, "What Teachers Make" works because it takes just a poem, that, as I said, I've read several times before, and puts passion behind the words. It was like he was in my face reminding me of what I do everyday that I don't realize. It was intense. There is an energy there that I didn't feel when I just read it. Additionally as this poem was preformed it was very much reminiscent of bits of conversations I've had over the years regarding teaching, about that kid that worked hard and finally got a C (amazing), or about making kids work harder than even they realized they could. It is about those parent phone calls, math problems proofreading, all of the stuff of teaching wrapped up in a concise package. He nailed it! I liked also the use of repetition to emulate the practice that goes into spelling, over and over and over to get it right, it was like it was happening, right there in the poem. The shifts in volume and in emphasis given to certain phrases, rushing through some parts and slowing down for others, phenomenal.

This performance contains elements that I consider to be very poetic. As I mentioned, the phrases are concise and descriptive, effectively capturing the message that I believe the author is trying to convey. Additionally there is some repetition of phrases that are used to illustrate something (for example, practicing and practicing spelling). There is also a rhythm about the piece that drives the reading, something I definitely associate with poetry.

I found the piece fabulous. I may not connect with this as much if I were not a teacher so in that way the intended audience might be limited somewhat to teachers. Regardless, I appreciated the content and the presentation.

Lesson for 02-15-2010: Poetry Slam

Poetry Slam
Lesson Plan

Objective: Students will prepare and perform poetry to a live audience

Materials: Poems written during previous class periods, white boards/score cards

Time allotment: One class period for performance after other class periods have been devoted to poetry instruction and writing

Grade Levels: 6-12

Procedure:
1. Begin by explaining the concept of a poetry slam to the students. Ask if students have attended a poetry slam and ask them to share experiences. Poetry slam explanations and examples can be found online at YouTube or at: http://www.pbs.org/newshour/extra/features/jan-june00/poetryboxfreestyling.html
Discuss with students proper performance etiquette, listening when someone is reading, reading loudly and with feeling. Encourage students to look up from their poem as much as possible. If students are prepped ahead of time they could be encouraged to have poems memorized but students may need the poems with them for comfort. Also discuss with students what the job of a judge is to critique the poem, not the person. Listen to the poem for elements of poetry that have been discussed during previous lessons.

2. Divide the class into three groups (or four depending on number of students). Group one students will read their poems first while group two students will serve as judges. Group two presents and group three students judge, etc.

3. Hold the poetry slam. Record scores awarded to students during each round. After all students have read, the top poets from each round will compete for the title of Class Poet. They can read the same, or a different poem in the final round.

Assessment:
Teacher will informally evaluate students’ poems. I often use a half piece of paper to write notes to students about their expression while reading, eye contact, and presentation and give the sheet to the students after they have read.

Spoken word- 02-15-10

Yikes, is all I have to say about this piece. I have a newfound respect for writers and performers of spoken word because, 3 days for 30 lines that I'm not even sure about... this was tough!

That’s how it is

It is the sympathetic stares
Of doting do-gooders
That marvel at the miracle
That I can dress myself.
That’s right, dress myself at age 30.

Don’t you dress yourself?
I want to say with a sneer
But turn away to hide the tear
How many blind people
Do you know that walk around naked?

It is the Equal Opportunity employer
Soaking up the notoriety
For hiring the Blind anomaly
While whispering, wondering
Waiting for That One Mistake that I can’t make

Oops, that’s right
Blindness is my bad
The trait to blame for everything
It is only white, sighted
Middle class “ables” that get a screw-up allowance

It is the feature in the weekend news
Highlighting my abilities
In spite of a disability
USA Today celebrating diversity
Success in the face of adversity, applauding me

Oppression, no, can’t be
I mean, God, look at me!
Celebrity in the face of a tragedy
These pet projects putting people on paper pedestals
Nothing more than society patting itself on the back

A second lesson plan 02-09-10

Lesson number 2
02-09-10

A poetic response
Just as people can respond to one another through dialogue, poems can also be used to respond to one another. In this exercise students will work as partners to write a series of two poems, one that, in some way, responds to the other.

Objective: Students work together to write effective poems that respond to themes and references made in other students’ poems.

Class periods: 1-2

Procedure:
1. Begin with a discussion of dialogue. What is the purpose?
2. Ask two students to dialogue about something in class for 15-20 seconds. Record the dialogue on the board. Point out that when we dialogue, we use what others are saying to determine how we respond. We often restate what people say or reference their comments.
3. Explain that this can be done in poetry as well. Poems can be written in response to other poems, to events, to pieces of art, or for many other reasons.
4. Share an example of two poems written as a response to one another. Point out how one poem might include references from the other poem, and visa versa.
5. Students will be given the class period, and possibly a second period if necessary to write the poems and type them if assigned to do so.

02-08-10 Lesson Plan

A Lesson in Imagery Development

All too often I find that my students do not think beyond an object, color, etc to develop the idea. For this poem activity I require students to think about colors in ways that they normally might not consider in order for them to push themselves into thinking more abstractly and developing vivid images.

Color Poem

Objective: Students will develop their abilities to write vivid images related to colors.
Time required: One class period
Grade level: Middle School

This lesson would fit well within a larger poetry unit, around a time in the unit when there is a need to develop visual imagery.

1. Students will be writing a color poem. Start by asking students to choose a color. Perhaps they will choose a color that is one of their favorites, or one that matches a mood that they are in on that particular day. Now, ask students to brainstorm a list of images using the following prompts.
What sounds does your color make you think of?
What smells does your color make you think of?
What tastes does your color make you think of?
What textures are related to your color?
What objects come to mind when you think of your color?
What mood do you think about when you think of your color?

Using these prompts hopefully the students will come up with an extensive list of images and ideas. Now, the next step is to develop these ideas into a poem that will better capture the color in a non-traditional way. I encourage kids to choose a mood for the poem before going forward because, for example, the color red can evoke feelings of love and sweetness (like at Valentine's day) or anger and hate. White could be innocence or emptiness.

Next, students choose some of the senses or images from their brainstorming and transform these into a poem format of two stanzas with five lines each. Use the following poem as a starting point.

Pink
Have you heard the color pink?
The quiet cry of a newborn baby girl
The sigh of a flower as it opens its petals to welcome the sun
The whispered dreams of little girls planning fairy tale weddings
That is the sound of pink.

Have you felt the terror of black?
Shadows lurking on a starless night
Swirling angry clouds banking in the west
A man with a mask at your front door
That is the terror of black.

Students go on to write their own color imagery poems. Poems can then be printed on the corresponding color and displayed or read aloud in class. The color poems that my students have written in the past become part of a poetry anthology that they create.

02-08-10, A poem or something like that

So, here's a poem that I'm totally not loving but I gave it a shot nonetheless. The challenge I tackled on this one was especially hard because I couldn't quite find the language I wanted. What do you think?

Untitled

Before it happened I knew the world to be one of sounds and textures
I felt my words, heard my locations and made friends with voices, not faces

The way it happened was sudden, one day lost in a deep, dense, unrelenting fog
The next, light screaming into my eyes, burning, reaching, filling them with the world

When It happened I lost the words to name what I’d known for years
Yearning to feel, to hear, but encouraged to see, I had to learn to know with my eyes

After it happened she was there, the voice I knew to belong to my mother
My fingers ached to know her, my eyes confused by this face? Smile?

As it happened I became an infant in a grown-up world, swaddled in wonder
Force-fed a formula of colors, faces, letters, places until the words dribbled from my mouth

Suddenly it happened. The cold cylinder on the bottom left shelf in the refrigerator
became the aluminum silver can branded by black and red letters, Diet Coke

Then it happened. The doorbell rang and, who was this He at my doorstep?
The man I’d known by voice stood before me and I didn’t know how to see him.

It still happens. I search for words I do not have to name things I do not know
Still an infant in a grown up world, still learning, everyday, to see.

List Poem 02.01: Things I've wanted to say

Things I’ve wanted to say to those parents

Our meeting today helps explain everything about your daughter
If Brittany spent as much time doing homework as she does making excuses, she’d have that A
Would you like me to sit around waiting for your next email or teach your child?
Yep, I deliberately seek out students like your son and lose his assignments on purpose.
Oh, I’m sure your son searched for “hot pussy” totally by mistake.
I realize your daughter has a great body but some people can’t tear their eyes away from her breasts long enough to learn.
I’ll admit it. Your daughter is my favorite, but in her class the competition is pretty weak.
Why didn’t I think of that? Of course canning pickles trumps writing a speech.
I’m sorry your aunt died. Was it easier to handle being this is the second time this year?
No, I’m not married, and I understand why your ex-wife is no longer married to you either.
While I’m at it, would you like me to hold your daughter’s hand while she goes pee?
He acts up only for people he likes? Well then what can I do to make him hate me?
Now did your printer break before or after your daughter left the paper in her locker, I mean, on the bus, or was that at her friend’s house?
Sorry about your son’s Traumatic Brain Injury; have you considered getting yourself evaluated?
My mistake, I must have gotten Jake confused with the other hornet-shooting, potty-mouth dumb ass in the back row.
I’m all for hands-on learning but Willi and his willy take things a little too far.
If I become an alcoholic, I’ll have your child to thank.

A lesson in Editing poetry

Just Edit:
Exercise in Editing Poems

Objective: Students will practice editing a poem

Procedure:
-Discuss with students general suggestions for good poetry. This would include the following suggestions:
-Rhyming is not always good, especially if it traps you into writing something that doesn’t really fit the poem
-Use words that make sense in our current language
-Be sure that the words included in the poem have a purpose. Avoid the use of lots of “fluffy” words.
-Notice the line breaks. Do they happen in places that make sense, or do they seem awkward?

Before we practice this with our own poems, let us practice this with a poem that doesn’t belong to anyone in our class. Read the poem “The Great Cosmic Birthday Bash”. Pay attention to what the poem says to you. Thinking about the suggestions for a good poem, highlight and underline parts of this poem that you feel could use some work. Students can work together in groups to identify weak areas of the poem.

After students have identified parts of the poem that do not make sense or need additional work, ask students to rework the poem, changing words or rewriting lines if necessary to improve it. Students do this independently at first. This may need to be done as a homework assignment to give students ample time to rework the poem.

Students come back together in groups and share what they’ve written. Each group then selects one poem to read aloud to the entire class from each group. As a large group, invite the class to make general suggestions comparing and contrasting the original poem with the poems written by the students.

This lesson will prepare students for the task of examining the work of their peers and providing feedback in future lessons.

The Great Cosmic Birthday Bash
by Brennan
Today is my birthday, the day of my birth,
The day when my soul reunited with Earth.
It flew through the galaxy, past Jupiter and Mars.
It passed a few asteroids and millions of stars.
Coming from Heaven as it surely has done,
It shot past some angels all aglow in the sun.
And now it is home in my innermost child,
Which is why on my birthday I danced and I smiled.
Poem courtesy of: http://home.swbell.net/moonshad/poetry.html

A memory in Poetry: Plus

Plus

Tick, t...ick..., t..i..ck..., t...i...c...k...
I urge the second hand forward
While desperately clinging to the simple now
My breath charges ahead
inoutinoutinoutinout
Shivering, I wipe sweat from my brow
I wonder, how I can be hot and cold
Want things fast and slow at the same time.

The doting waiter at Drag’s saw to everything
Pouring wine,and shmoozing
As he scurried I traced the gold letters
“Happy Birthday to my Wife” on the card
Wife... a new word, a dreamcometrue word
But in a breath bliss gives way to terror
The scent of sizzling steak ripped at my stomach
“I’m gonna be sick” and the walls came for me

Wal-Mart’s probing lights watched me knowingly
As I worked to conceal The Test between M&Ms and shampoo
A smile from the clerk who saw this everyday
We left hand in hand, hearts racing, stomachs in knots
The weight of silence pressed against our lips
Making it impossible to discuss the possible
Just married... could it be... when was my last...
Counting and recounting, 28, 29, 37, 41, 46...

Tick, t...ick..., t..i..ck..., t...i...c...k...
I urge the second hand forward
While desperately clinging to the simple now
F..i..v..e.. m..i..n..u..t..e..s.. i...s... a... l...i...f...e..t..i..m..e
“Well?” he says, arms folded, leaning on the doorway
WIth shaking hands I raise the key to our future
Unmistakably clear, where once had been nothing
Was the pale pink sign of life.