In Residence: Poetry Celebration

Today's the big day, third grade poets.

It's our poetry celebration at Manor Woods Elementary School. I've been in residence with the third grade for the last three weeks. Today, families are coming to listen to us read all of the poems we've been working so hard on.

It wouldn't be a party without food.

Let's jump into our celebration with some food poems by the Manor Woods third graders. During this workshop, we are concentrating on using our five senses to describe a food. Food is so tied up with family, memory, and traditions. I asked the poets to stretch themselves and give the reader a sense of what or who makes these foods important to them.

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By Amira W.

The Ravens game starts, “Set hut.”

My mom makes my favorite dish!

Buffalo dip and mussels.

It’s so good. It smells delicious.

I can’t wait to eat it!

I hear footsteps coming.

That must be my mom.

She sets them at the table

And I started chomping them up

They taste so good.

I can’t wait until the next game!

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By Shyla L.

It’s Thanksgiving day.

We are going to make apple crisp.

Mom gets the knives out.

Slice, slice, the apples are cut

Into tiny bits.

Chomp, chomp.

We fling a few in our mouths.

Mom gets the cake mix out.

Clank, clank goes the mixing spoon

When she pours the mix in

With some sweet sugar.

I could smell the apples

Mom put it into the oven to soften.

I take the baking tray out.

Apple crisp was the first thing
I learned to bake by myself.
A guilt-free recipe is here.

Cheese Burgers

By Rachel L.

Walking to the cafeteria after recess at school.

Smelling delicious cheese burgers.

Mmm!!

The bread all plain with cheese on it.

Hearing the register go ching!

Also hear the meat sizzle.

Adding lettuce to my burger.

Sip! Drinking chocolate milk.

The sound of finally cleaning up.

Getting a duck slip for quietly waiting in line.

Cheese burgers are yummy!!

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By Ryan P.

Going down in the morning

To have breakfast

Is a nice and peaceful breakfast

With no banging, crashing.

Get out the cereal and milk.

Splashing the milk in the bowl

Sip, chew, eating all the cereal.

Back to bed I go.

Costco

By Constantine E.

When I lived in Virginia,

There was a Costco nearby.

My mom let me get something

Cheap on the menu. I ordered

A hot dog. I hear them

Wrapping it up

And bringing it toward me.

I unwrapped it and my mouth

Started to water.

Crunch went the onion dispenser

When I was putting on the onions.

I put on ketchup and mustard

And I could almost taste it!

When I took my first bite,

I was clearly amazed.

It tasted like heaven,

Just in my hands!

Third graders -- you're going to love this video of our model poem, "Good Hotdogs" by Sandra Cisneros. It was made by kids.

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By Andrew B.

Get the spoons, get ready

For spaghetti. Rumble, rumble

Bubble, bubble, bubble chicka chick.

Put it on the table.

Wop, wop, wop. I eat two bowls.

Mom and Dad and my older brother

Eat three each.

We ate at our house. I was full

And stopped eating.

The food was great.

I liked it, but then

Me and my brother played Wii.

It was fun. I should do this again.

It was fun.

Dumpling

By Evan T.

When I came back from soccer,

I asked Mom, “What’s for lunch?”

I smelled the dumplings

And it smelled tasty.

I took off my shoes

And went in the dining room

And sat down.

When the dumplings got on my plate

It was hot.
I grabbed a fork and started eating.

The meat inside the dumpling

Was delicious.

Wow, poets! Thanks for working extra onomatopoeia words into your food poems. Gold star!

Before we say goodbye, I'd like to share two more poems. Both of these are portraits, written in response to photographs clipped from a newspaper or magazine. I like the portrait workshop because it gives young writers a chance to show what deep thinkers and compassionate human beings they are. (You can find my portrait poem lesson at Author Amok. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.)

Portrait Poem

by Marcus Z.

I look at the shelf,

getting a book for me and my wife to read.

The book's name is Spongebob.

So funny to read that.

Me and my wife like to read.

We hope to have children

that are like us.

We hope the children love

Spongebob the  movie or book.

We just hope to have children

that are like us.

Portrait Poem

By Roman R.

A guitarist’s pet dog just died

And he’s singing a sad, sad song

About his dog Billy Bob Joe Bob.

He was white and black.

He was just like his guitar

And sad like his guitar.

He sings all night

With his cool cowboy suit on.

His badge shines

In the half faded darkness.

His boots are down

And his head is up.

He is trying to fight off the darkness

But he can’t.

If you'd like to read more poems from the Manor Woods poetry residency, here are the links:

Howl-oween Onomatopoeia
Onomatopoeia Lesson 1
Onomatopoeia Lesson 2
Opposites Poems
Food and Portrait Poems (You're already here!)

All student poems posted here with permission. Have a happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am taking a break from blogging until December 1.

In Residence: Open House

Happy Poetry Friday! It's a perfect day for the Northfield Elementary poetry open house.

I am serving up a few more third grade food poems for the special occasion.

But for starters, head over to Diane's blog, to enjoy some Random Noodling. Diane is this week's host. She'll be serving up a pot luck of tasty poetry links from the Poetry Friday regulars.

Promise not to fill up on noodles at Diane's blog.
We've got a few more courses to go.

If it's a beautiful day, maybe we will celebrate all of the third graders wonderful poems outdoors, with a picnic.

Picnic
by Hannah S.

Today we went on a picnic
to go see the cherry blossoms.
We heard the birds chirping
and the soft breeze ruffling my hair.
We found a good spot to lay the blanket
so we could all eat lunch.
As I caught a whiff of flowers blossoming,
I tasted tomatoes
and I felt the juice trickling down my chin.
After lunch, I ate a cookie, crunch, crunch.
As we left, I said goodbye to the birds
while I walked away towards my house.

What's a picnic without burgers? Good thing Henry brought some to our poetry open house.

Hamburgers Are the Best
by Henry  H.

I hear my dad calling my sisters and me in for dinner.
I see my dad bring the big cheese
and regular burgers in.
I run straight to my spot at the table.
The juiciness of the hamburger makes my mouth water.
I hear the prayers finish and I dig in.
My dad always makes his burgers
for the first day of spring.
I feel the warm bun in my hand.
I always love the smell of the melted cheese.
Burgers are always the best!

The best part about a picnic is sampling the foods your friends bring -- specialties and traditional dishes from their families. Jonathan shares one of those foods with us.

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by Jonathan W.

In the oven,
I see a lovely brown duck,
who has been hung for over a day.
Oil and sauce drops on the plate,
now serving on the table.
Steam is rising in the room, smelling like duck.
Eating the flesh, which is tender, tasty,
juicy enough.
Eating the skin too,
my favorite part,
because it is oily, very oily,
so I slurp it in  my mouth,
sucking the oil off of it,
crispy like a chip.
Getting another piece,
and another...
unfortunately...
it's ALL GONE!!

If you're still hungry when you get home from the picnic, join Manomay for a simple, but delicious snack at home.

Cheese and Omelet Sandwich
by Manomay

Every week, when I come back from school,
me, my dad, and my mom make a melted soft cheese
and omelet sandwich.
I can see yolk turning into an omelet.
After a while, we put the cheese on the omelet,
then I put the bread on.
We flip it and put on another bread.
We take if off the pan and I like the soft bread.
Then we all EAT, EAT, EAT.

Still hungry? There are more food poems from earlier this week here and here.

Thanks for celebrating with  me and the Northfield third grade poets. After the open house, I have a few more student pocket poems to share -- hopefully, with photos from our poetry event.

In Residence: Eating Dessert First

Good morning, Poets!

The Northfield third graders are still enjoying a poetry feast. For today's post, let's live wild and free by eating dessert first. Then we'll enjoy our main course.

If you'd like to read more about my food poems workshop for elementary schoolers, read this post.

I enjoyed Audrey and Jonathan's poems because, in each one, the quick rhythm and tumbling of words conveys how much the speaker enjoys eating. Both poets are using rhythm to create an exciting/excited tone.

Dessert first!

Chocolate 
by Audrey L.

The creamy chocolate in my mouth
melting slowly, piece by piece,
shaped as squares, smooth by touch.
I see the milky brown as you take a bite.
Smells like cocoa but much sweeter.
I hear you crunch upon the brown squares
while I suck on the chocolate.
When we're finished, we ask for more
and if we get some, we clap for joy.
What a good snack that chocolate was.

Dessert first? I admit to having hot chocolate
for breakfast this morning.

Main course...

Great Noodles
by Jonathan

The sizzling noise.
Looks like worms.
Tastes like heaven.
Come to dinner.
Eat them fast.
Eat them when they're hot.
Get the forks and knives.
Side dishes everywhere.
The same smell always.
Hear it sloshing in the pot.
Eating seconds and thirds
until there's no more.

We'll have more poetic treats tomorrow as the third graders prepare for their poetry open house. Parents, families, and friends will be joining us for a poetry celebration tomorrow afternoon.

Thanks to Audrey and Jonathan's families for giving me permission to post their poems today.

In Residence: Hungry for Poetry

It's field hockey night at the Shovan household. Julia and I won't get in until after 8 pm, so dinner is on the fly. The guys usually grab pizza on their way home. If us girls are lucky, there are a few slices leftover for us.

Every time he's in  Hoboken, my husband visits
Benny Tudino's, famous for it's giant slices of pizza.
On a recent trip, our son got to meet Benny himself!

As you can see, food is never simple. There is often a story behind the things we eat. It might be a tradition, like turkey on Thanksgiving, or it might be necessity, such as having to plan around a teenager's sports practice. Today, I'm sharing student food poems that revolve around restaurants.

When the Northfield third graders and I worked on food poems, we talked about the stories behind our meals. I asked students to aim for seven elements in their poems. Initially, we looked at the five senses -- so that we were thinking beyond how a food tastes:

1-5: Use your five senses to describe the food
1. Taste (texture, flavor)
2. Smell (connected to taste)
3. See
4. Touch (with fingers, in mouth)
5. Hear (cooking sounds, eating sounds -- opportunity for onomatopoeia)

Next, we like to include two important narrative elements.

6-7: Tell a story around your food
6. Setting (where are you?)
7. Characters/People (who are you with?)

BONUS: Include an onomatopoeia word

Our model poem for this lesson is "Good Hotdogs," by Sandra Cisneros. Here is the poem read by a student from the Wingra School in Wisconsin, which I found on YouTube.

I hope you're hungry! Here are today's third grade food poems.

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by Christopher W.

I just was at the Y,
now I am driving over
to McDonald's.
My mom goes through
the drive through.

The cheeseburger
in the wrapper
is warm. I see
the brown bun,
the yellow cheese,
the red ketchup,
and the brown meat.

Burritos
by Dustin S.

Go, go, go!
We're almost there.
Coming down the highway
and, Oh!
We just pulled up.
Ahhh... Chipotle.
The line all the way back
to the cash register.
It takes 25-30 minutes to order
but WOW! It's worth it.
Burritos!
Chicken, rice, corn,
lettuce, tomato.
I love burritos!

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by Claire W.

Warm, sunny evenings, my stomach growling loudly,
I fling open the door with a slam.
My dad follows me to the car. Beep!
I go in and see my familiar face in the mirror.
With a vroom, we head off to Red Lobster.
I walk to the restaurant door and into my nose
the wonderful scent of delicious food makes me drool!
I order this pizza with vegetables on top. It's good!
But one thing comes before -- the bread.
It's baked perfectly. Golden, crunchy layers,
brown bottoms. It tastes like heaven!
I choose the top and it crunches around in my mouth,
fresh made! Clang! The plate on the table,
my order steaming hot. It disappears in a couple of bites.
My stomach is pleased with my decisions.
My dad bundles up the leftovers for tomorrow afternoon.
We leave, and I feel a warm sensation tingling in my throat.

Thanks, Northfield poets and families for allowing me to share these wonderful food poems. I'll have more delicious verse for you tomorrow.

Last Day Picnic: Food Poems

Happy Poetry Friday! My daughter -- and children  across central Maryland -- are celebrating the end of school today. I'll be taking Julia (middle school), Robbie (high school) and my friend Michelle's son (who says goodbye to elementary school today) out for ice cream as soon as they all get off the bus.

I thought we'd enjoy the last day of school, and Poetry Friday, with a picnic today. Let's see what the Northfield third graders are bringing us to eat.

These poems come from our Food Story workshop. Our  model poem is "Good Hotdogs" by Sandra Cisneros.

Before we write, we spend a lot of time talking about favorite foods, food traditions in our families, meals that our special to our cultures, holidays and the people we love to share food with.

I love the details in Erin's poem, especially the flower-bordered plates.

Find the recipe at My Recipe!
(These are pork, but I am obsessed with shrimp dumplings, shumai.)

Erin L.
 

Dumplings

Yum! I can smell the

Boiling dumplings when

I come home from school.
I hear my mom rolling
The dough and the
Squeaking sound of the
Rolling pin.
Bang! My mom accidentally
Drops the pan’s cap. She
Picks it up and starts
To stir more meat to
Go in the dumplings. Then
The feast begins! My mom
Starts to fill up the flower
Bordered plates with the
Yummy meat dumplings.
Mmmmmmm! My stomach is
Full of eating all of those
Dumplings. I slouch in my
Chair, tired and full. Then
I go to bed and tomorrow’s
Another day.

Katie's poem had me at "chocolate."



French Silk Pie at Tablespoon.com.

Katie O.

Chocolate Pie

I can’t wait till we

Get there

I open the door

Dashing in

I smell it in the oven

I have to eat my dinner

First

So I’ll eat quickly

I munch it and slurp it

Finally it’s all done

Now it’s time for me

To blow out the candles

In the chocolate pie

I’m happy it’s my

Birthday so I get

The first slice

Now I have to

Wait till next year

But at least I’ll get

The first slice

I get back in the

Car and say see

You next Thanksgiving

But all I can think about

Is the chocolate pie

Jill and Arden are both treating us with home-made ice cream! Their poems reminded me of making ice cream at my aunt's house when I was little. We used one of those giant, hand-cranked machines that required a lot of dry ice and elbow grease. What flavor? Strawberry. I've had a love of home-made strawberry ice cream ever since.

 

Jill S.

Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

Getting home from school

On a Friday

Choosing the best flavor

For my dad and I

Should it be vanilla

Or yummy chocolate

I choose chocolate chip ice cream

Over all the other flavors

Chocolate chip is best to me

Because I love the small, little chips

Time to get ready

To set up the supplies

Time to get the ingredients

First we mix the milk

With the vanilla

Now time to mix the other ingredients

Into the pot

Time to heat it up

Ding

It is finished

Time to mix is up

With ice and salt

We have to wait 24 hours

Until it is finished

24 hours is over now

Time to eat the ice cream

This is really good ice cream

I hope we can make it again

Arden K.

Home Made Ice Cream

Time to make homemade ice cream

Grab the bowl and the cream
Pour the cream
Drop the ice, sprinkle the salt
Kick, kick, clank, clank
More ice
Kick, kick, clank, clank
Get the bowls and the spoons
Scrape, scrape, plop, plop
Mmm…vanilla
TIME TO EAT!!



Blackberry Ice Cream from Cully's Kitchen.

Now our feast is over. Let's give the teachers one last chance to impart some wisdom. Here is poet Joseph Ross, a veteran educator, blogging about why he loves teaching:

"As a teacher of English, one has the profound privilege of reading student writing. When reading what students write, I have come to know how they think and reflect on the world, as well as what they love and sometimes what they fear. Another privilege that comes with teaching English is the opportunity to spend time with students engaged with great literature. Few experiences compare with watching a student wrestle with, and then fall in love with, William Shakespeare, or seeing a student find himself in the poems of Lucille Clifton, or learning of a student’s own confidence growing after an encounter with Henry David Thoreau. Engaging with young people over exciting and challenging literature still lights a fire inside me, even after twenty-four years."

Read the full post, "The Gifts of Teaching" at Joe's blog. Then order his brand new book of poetry, Gospel of Dust.
 
Wishing you all a wonderful summer. Teachers -- enjoy your much-deserved break. Parents -- good luck!

Today's Poetry Friday host is Margaret at Reflections on the Teche. Enjoy the view this summer, everyone.

Poetry Madness

It's Round Two of March Madness Poetry.

The only hoops in this game are the ones children's poets jump through. In each round, organizer Ed DeCaria gives the "authletes" an assigned word. We have 36 hours to create a kid-friendly poem, using that word.

This brilliant bracket belongs to and is the creation of the technically astounding Ed DeCaria.

It's up to readers to decide who moves through the the next round of the tournament. Ed, an educator and poet, has this handy list of things to look for in a strong poem.

From Think Kid, Think!:

Things to Consider in Making a Choice:

• How well the poem incorporates the authlete’s assigned word.
• Technical elements: meter, rhyme, form, shape, and other poetic standards.
• Creativity: wordplay, imagery, unusual approach, etc.
• Subtle elements that make the whole greater than the sum of its parts.
• Your overall response: emotional reaction such as admiration, tears, laughter, terror, or some indefinable feeling.

Teachers, if you are studying poetry with the class, Ed's five "things to consider" would make a great topic for discussion about why we like or don't like certain poems.

My word for this round was "speculate." The first thought that popped into my mind was, "speculate what's on my plate" -- maybe a mealtime poem.

I wrote three pages of notes for this poem.

Page 1: Speculating about what's on the plate.
If it's a school lunch, it could be Rib-B-Que or mystery meat.
At home, maybe its unidentifiable leftovers for dinner.

Page 2: more notes with potential-words Post-It.

In my word bank, I had related words, synonyms and rhyming words:

spectacle--both meanings
spectator
specter (a ghost in this poem?)
spectral
spectrum
speculate (with definition)
reason
think
deliberate
cogitate
speck
speckle
speak
speaker
ruminate: to must upon, meditate

Notice that the word "flatulate" does not appear anywhere on my list. Hold that thought.

I played around with a few lines before submitting. The "radioactive fleas" became "radioactive peas" to better integrate the poem's food theme.

As much as I liked the speaker's personality coming through in the line "That's why I'm being so dramatic. Some vegetables make me asthmatic," I chucked it. The poem was starting to feel like a string of one-liners. For that reason, I also added some enjambment.

You can read the final poem, "A Bargain," here: http://www.thinkkidthink.com/6-speculate-vs-3-rigged/

However, before I sent the poem in, I once again doubted myself and wrote a totally different poem.



Page 3: Another attempt.
The tournament is called March Madness
for good reason.


Whys

My brother complains,
          "Why must you always speculate about normal things.
          Grass it just green. There are stars in the sky.
          Does it matter why?"
It matters to me! I want to know
          if my skin absorbs light like a blade of grass
          why don't I turn green? And how can it be
          that atoms are in me, the grass and those faraway stars?

Laura Shovan

This poem was uniformally voted against by my husband, kid #1 and kid #2.

Remember the thought that I asked you to hold? The word speculate has some, let's call them interesting, rhymes. Which my very goofy parents quickly realized. They raced off to write their own "speculate" poems, rushing to see who could send me theirs first.

Mom's Poem

On dewy ground I perambulate,
Allowing my thoughts to fluctuate,
Now is the time to speculate,
On why I have to flatulate.

by Pauline Dickson and not Franklyn Dickson

Dad's Poem

I hesitate to speculate
About the impact to my fate
When we go to bed at eight
And all I do is flatulate!

By Franklyn Dickson

Growing up in my family, it would have
been useful to have this sign in the house.

I have no idea how to do fancy voting stuff on my blog like the set-up on Think Kid, Think. However, feel free to leave a comment about which fart poem you prefer.

And remember, you can never be too old to have embarrassing parents.

Take it away, George Carlin! He shares a few fart jokes in this kid-appropriate clip.