THE LAST FIFTH GRADE OF EMERSON ELEMENTARY

THE LAST FIFTH GRADE OF EMERSON ELEMENTARY
April 12, 2016
Showing posts with label middle school poetry lesson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label middle school poetry lesson. Show all posts

Sunday, April 26, 2015

NPM 2015: What Are You Wearing, Linda Kulp?

Words zip along the front of my jacket,
hide with lost pennies in my pockets.
Ink nestles in the space between my toes
and the tips of my shoes.
There is no coziness like mine.


It's the last week of National Poetry Month 2015. Throughout April, guest bloggers are dressing up in their poetry finery as Author Amok features poems about clothes. Why clothes? Read this post.

In addition to the guest bloggers, every Friday in April I posted a round-up of original and recommended clothing poems. (Send those via email to laurashovan at gmail dot com or leave them in the comments). You'll find this week's writing prompt at the bottom of this post.  I'll post any final poems this Friday, May 1.

Today's guest blogger is poet and educator Linda Kulp of Write Time. 

In middle school, the type of shoes someone wears is a big deal.  Shoes are part of their identity.  As part of our “Who Am I?” unit, I created a lesson in which my students write a poem about their shoes.


I begin the lesson by bringing in a variety of shoes I purchased from a thrift store.


I hold up each pair of shoes and ask students to describe the person they think might have owned these shoes.  We make predictions about the owner such as: age, career, personality, lifestyle, etc.  Next, I read “Ode to Pablo’s Shoes” by Gary Soto. We talk about Pablo’s shoes and what we learn about him. Then we read “Grandpa’s Shoes” by Deborah Chandra.

Grandpa’s Shoes

Lying by the back door,
Grandpa’s shoes
speak in a husky
whisper:

            “Step inside,” they say.
            “We’re big and bruised
            and scuffed, but
            down past the tough
            we’ve worn ourselves soft.”

“We’ve been somewhere.”

               -Deborah Chandra (all rights reserved)

We discuss what our own shoes might say if they could talk. Then I tell them that every summer since I was a teenager, I buy a brand new pair of white canvas sneakers.  I love them because they are so comfortable and practically live in them all summer long!


I read them the poem I wrote about my sneakers.

Used

Lying on the laundry room floor
my old canvas sneakers
speak in a lonely voice.

“All summer long,” they say,
“you wore us during long walks
around the neighborhood
and on trips to shopping malls.”

“Now,” they sigh,
summer is over
and here we sit
worn and dirty,
waiting—
to be washed and worn
again.”

“Have you forgotten us?”

“We feel used!”

-Linda Kulp Trout


Finally, my students write a poem about their shoes. Of course all of this happens over several class periods. We review poetic elements such as structure, personification, sensory details, etc., but mostly, I try to keep it fun so students are free to use their creativity without too many “rules.”   My sixth grade students will be writing their poems next week. I’m looking forward to seeing what their shoes say about them.

What do your shoes say about you? 

Thank you for posting today, Linda. I love the idea of using thrift store shoes as inspiration for portrait poems. 

My shoes say that I am ready for spring.

Linda Kulp Trout is a middle school reading intervention teacher and poet.  She has taught reading and writing to students in kindergarten through adult. She is the author of an early reader and articles for children. Her poems have been published in children's magazines and anthologies. She is currently working on a middle grade novel-in-verse and a collection of poems for young children. Her two sons and grandchildren are the inspiration for many of her poems. She lives in PA with her husband and very bossy cat named Daisy.You can learn more about Linda Kulp at her website.

ICYMI: In our poetry closet, you will find...

Jane Elkin looks in her childhood closet. Poems by Mark Irwin and Ron Koertge.
Linda Baie's outfit would not be complete without a poem in her pocket.
Robyn Campbell is showing off her favorite vintage clothes with a poetic picture book from Mary Ann Hoberman.
Donna Smith twirls her poetic skirts for us.

*Your suggested clothing poem prompt for Friday, May 1: Personification
If an article of clothing could talk, what stories would it tell? Whether it's a thrift store find, or an item for your closet, let your clothes speak for themselves. Has that black fedora traveled with you to Mexico? Was your daughter wearing that dress on her first day of kindergarten? Have your white Keds become mud-streaked from your hours spent in the garden? Maybe your jeans are tired of being patched and mended and would love to be retired.

Send your poems any time. I'll post original work and recommended poems on Friday.


Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Wordplay Lesson

Today is the big day! I'm heading to St. Jane Frances School for the middle school poets tea.

Teacher Pat Habicht is a big fan of poetic form, particularly the sestina. This site has the rules of the form, which includes choosing six "end-words."

My favorite book on form is by Ron Padgett.

It takes some skill to stretch those six words, which each appear at least seven times in the poem. To prepare middle schoolers for sestina writing, I do a workshop on wordplay.

The model poem is "Murder Most Vowel" by Robin Hirsch. You can find it in the book FEG: Ridiculous Poems for Intelligent children.

(Read a review of FEG by Naomi Shihab Nye here.)

Begin by choosing a one syllable word. I picked BEAN.

Now run that word through as many vowel sounds as you can. You don't have to use all of them in your wordplay poem, but it's good to have choices.

BEAN
BEN
BIN
BON
BONE
BAN
BANE

These are going to be the end words for the lines in a short wordplay poem. It may not make sense. That's okay. Try to weave the end words around a silly little story.

I had several failed attempts and thrown out beginning words ("mood," "chair," "Sam" -- none of which worked for me), before I settled on "BEAN." When you're writing, aim for a last line with a joke or an off-rhythm, just as Robin Hirsch does in "Murder Most Vowel."

Here is my poem:


“What’s for dinner Mom?” asked Ben.
“A casserole of fish and bean,”
Mom said. “Look out! Don’t eat that bone!”
A rib stuck in his throat, the bane
of Ben’s young life – since then he has been
floundering.

Ms. Habicht and I allowed the students to work in small groups or alone. Composing a poem around a list of words is a challenge, but the middle schoolers were up to it. 

Here are some of their wordplay poems. These samples will give you a good idea of how creative kids can get with this lesson.

Expectations of  a Love Story 

By Courtney B. and Madison F. 
Beginning word: "Read"

If you read
about a rude
man who rode
to town to raid
the castle to rescue
the princess to ride
off into the sunset,
remember to rest.

Wily Will’s Wheel

by Hannah K. and Johanna M. 
Beginning word: "Wall"

Once, there was a large, navy-blue whale
who swallowed a round wooden wheel
that was used to make fuzzy silver wool.
The wheel’s wily owner, Will,
chased the whale into a well.
Will dove through the well’s wall,
and the whale swallowed him whole.

This one cracks me up:

Fabio’s Fall

by Jack C. and Ryan S. 
Beginning word: "Fall"

On a cold fall
day, a boy named Fabio fell
into a ditch. He was trying to file
his newspaper clippings full
of interesting facts.
As he fell, he yelled, Fail!
It was his own fault.
He felt like a total fool.
Fabio is still stuck in the ditch with a major concussion and two broken legs.

Madison and Kelsey's poem gives a good sense of how you can build a little story around the word list.
The Stolen Sail
by Madison W. and Kelsey L. 
Beginning word: "Sale"

There once was a guy named Sal
Who lived in a horse’s stall.
He stole a sail
That wasn’t on sale.
He went and sat on his stool
By the window sill
After months of searching for him, he was finally caught.

Hannah's poem is one of my favorites from this workshop. It turns out, you don't have to be silly to play with the words in this exercise.

Playing with Love 

by Hannah L.
Beginning word: "Hot"

It’s not shaped like the candy hearts
that melt sweet words on my tongue. It can hurt,
for it’s not always perfect, and can hit
you anytime, anywhere. It fills you with a heat
that burns through your heart, red hot
like a wildfire in July’s height.
It doesn’t know hate,
nor does it give a hoot
about appearance or heft.
It is something I can’t wait to be hoisted
up by. It is love.

I hope you have a chance to try this lesson with your own students. I'd recommend it for advanced 5th grader writers through adults. As I said, it's a challenge, but can also be fun.

Tomorrow, I'll post a sestina written by one of Ms. Habicht's eighth grade classes. They are preparing to move on to high school, which is the theme of their group-written sestina. 

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Prose Poem or Flash Fiction?

One of my favorite lessons this year was the portrait poem. I put it back on my school workshop menu after a long hiatus.

At St. Jane Frances School, teacher Pat Habicht and I brought books, fine art transparencies and photographs cut out from the newspaper for students to write about.

In this lesson, I tell students to first describe everything they see. Then, imagine the photo or painting is a television screen on pause. What happens when they press "play?" What does the person in the image do next?

Michael E. wrote in response to a painting from poet/artist Shonto Begay's wonderful book Navajo.


This could be a poem, if Michael works on line breaks. But it could also be the opening of a short story.

That's fine with me. The important thing in a first draft is getting ideas on paper. The author can decide what the piece will be later.

Rodeo 

by Michael E.

They are going to the rodeo, plowing down a long desert highway. The rider is in the back, with stores of food and tools, resting on the spare tire. Sore and tired after many rodeos, but it’s how he makes his money. He’s reading a magazine, dozing sometimes into a sleep. His friend sits opposite him snoring. The men and women in the front talk quietly amongst themselves.

Posted with permission of the poet and his family.

I can imagine the dialogue that comes next, what the men and women in the cab are saying about the rodeo rider while they think he's sleeping. 

More middle school poems are on the way as we count down to National Poetry Month.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Amok in Tea

I have two school Poets Teas this week.

The teas are culminating events for my student-poets. It will be a few  weeks, even months, since we worked together. I'll return to hear how they've polished their poems, which the children will read to parents and guests.

Then, we feast! At least, cookies and lemonade in the middle of the school day feels like a feast.

First, I'll go to Fort Garrison and visit with the third grade. Then, it's off to St. Jane Frances School, where I worked with seventh and eighth graders.

Here is a poem by St. Jane Frances seventh grader Sydney E. This comes from one of my favorite workshops, portrait poems. The lesson is here.

Sydney wrote this poem in response to a photo of cafe singer I clipped out of the newspaper (not the clip art above). I love how she captures the singer's passion for music and imbues the poem with character. Personifying Jazz is an important leap in this poem.

Jazz

by Sydney E.
My hair is long
like my history.
My eyes are dark
like my past.
My voice is strong
like my faith.
My ears have heard many sounds,
from the birds’ twitter in the morning
to that midnight train.

I’m going off on my own,
to perform the way I want.
I empower people to dream big,
but act bigger.
To me,
Jazz is not just a type of music.
It’s a way of life.
Jazz is soft and smooth,
warm and deep,
soulful and strong.

If I have one amazing song,
I would give it up for a few minutes with my friend.
My friends and family are always in my music.
like angels,
always with me.
They’re there,
you just might not notice them.

A friend will be there to help me when I fall,
but a best friend will never let me touch the ground.
Jazz is one of my best friends.
He brought me back,
when I wanted to jump the ledge.
Jazz is my love.
I will never let him go.


The poem reminds me of some of my favorite female jazz artists.


Sade is coming to Baltimore this June and I've got my tickets. I fell in love with her music when she first hit MTV and I was in high school. This is the gorgeous photo they're using to advertise the concert. See you there!