Category Archives: Poetry

Power in Energy

Launch Forth

Did you know that Walt Whitman wrote a poem about social media and the internet? Yeah, I didn’t either, until Ze Frank told me in his video Thinks Like Me.

Side note… I am in love with Ze Frank. Not in a weird– please be my best friend, stalker sort of way, although I did start digging through his online closet after he started following me on Twitter and sent me some great advice, through a spat of DMs, concerning my Daraja fundraiser,–but more in a, I really respect you man, sort of way.

Maybe in love is the wrong way to put it– I love Ze Frank? Still sounds weird. I respect, admire, am in awe of…no no love will do. I love Ze Frank. Perhaps my admiration stems from the fact that I am new to his work. Yes, I knew of him through the Young Me, Now Me project, but I had never fully explored the extent of his work. Now that I have, explored, I realize that much of what he does is everything I love about the web, about people, about life. His work is light, funny, deep, poignant, collaborative, beautiful, loving, self-deprecating, and true. While he doesn’t take himself too seriously, the work speaks volumes about the human experience in the digital age. …end side note.

Sorry this wasn’t meant to be a declaration of love to Ze, it was meant to be about Walt, Spiders, and The Interwebz. I love it when my passions collide: Poetry by ancient bearded queers, social media, arachnids, and online collaborative artists? Yes please. I am assuming you have already watched Thinks Like Me.

What you haven’t watched it yet? Decided to skip that hyperlink, cuz there were too many? I can’t say I am not disappointment in your lack of media literacy, but that is fine. You are learning and I am a teacher. I get that too many links can be annoying, but sometimes you need to stop and read the links that is what a hyperlink is after all: an embedded connection to other content to clarify and add context to existing text.

Anyway, watch the video, you need it for contextual reference if we are to continue. (Man! That is a lot of alliteration or is it consonance?) We will be dealing with the part around 2:3o where he casually mentions that (this) Whitman poem:

It’s about the web right? You and me? Connecting? We are the spiders right? Isolated exploring the vacant, vast surroundings? Launching forth filament, instagrams, filament, Facebook updates, filament, out of ourselves. Aren’t we ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them. Aren’t we surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of (cyber) space. Ceaselessly musing, blogging, venturing, you-tubing, throwing, tweeting—seeking the spheres, to connect them. You to me. Us? Till the bridge we will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold? Aren’t we hoping that flung gossamer thread will catch somewhere? That someone will read? Comment? Re-tweet? Spin the web of our consciousnesses?

O my soul indeed! I get it Ze. I get it. And so did my grade seven students when we looked at this poem and I mentioned it might be about the internet. They smiled, cuz it is that simple and clear and obvious. That technology and social media is not about technology or social media, it is about connection. It is about the human need to launch forth from itself! Whitman got it, over a hundred years ago. Only difference is that now, it is easier to find an anchor hold. The gossamer threads are fiber-optic and packed with multi-media, which in and of itself adds layers of complexity, but the need to connect, to create, to share is timeless.

All of this philosophizing reminds me of a post I wrote last year, Far From Home on a Dark Night.

Maybe what you are feeling, someone else feels. Maybe what you are feeling, someone else feels.Wow! That is what I wanted all along.

Seems relevant somehow. Looks like more and more of us are feeling it. Interesting that Justin also uses the metaphor of threads. What do you think? Walt Whitman- social media expert? I can see his Twitter handle now:

Paths Towards Articulation

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Do you ever have one of those lessons, where everything goes as you planned? Better yet, things work-out beyond your expectations? Kids leave your room a buzz with excitement and inspiration? You feel you have somehow added to the betterment of humanity, through the enlightenment of the best minds of the next generation? Today was not one of those lessons.

I had this last minute whimsical idea, but it didn’t really provide much visible fruit. Although, I was disappointed by the product, the process has been ripe for reflection. As always, nuts and bolts first, followed by reflection.

A seed has been planted in my heart, ever since I first saw Caine’s Arcade a few days ago. If you haven’t seen the film yet, take ten minutes to watch it below.

All year, we have been exploring the idea that poetry need not be confined solely to text. We have tinkered with film and photography as methods to capture the poetic experience, so here was a great example of visual poetry. I wanted my students to feel the emotional tug created through Caine’s Arcade. I wanted them to consider the depth of possible themes, and finally I wanted them to write a poem based on their experience with the film.

We discussed the context of East LA, as a low-income area of Los Angels before we watched the film. I asked them to jot down emotional observations as they watched, which we shared after the film. I was impressed by what they shared:

Feelings/Emotions:

Caring
Hope
Dreaming Big
Never Say Never
Innocence
Joyfulness
Determination
Passion

They got the film. This was clear. On a surface level, they connected to emotional baggage being presented. Next, I asked them to take these themes, unpack them and write a poem based in what they found inside. Yup, I threw them into the deep-end just like that. It was not pretty. There was a lot of staring at blank pages, a lot of empty looks. They were drowning and drowning fast. A few of them were okay, but the majority were overwhelmed by the freedom. They need more scaffolding. This is a Language A class of some pretty high flyers. I know they are working on an advance level as was evidenced by their great films. I did not want to offer them a pair of “water wings” if they didn’t need them, but at this point they needed something more from me.

Next, we explored some deeper themes and ideas.

Odds against you
Cardboard/reuse
Boredom versus creation

We talked about the idea of the arcade itself being a gamble. It is designed to cheat the player, much like life. They mentioned that it was interesting that this place of hope was created from reused cardboard boxes. I presented the idea that it was important to notice how like the boxes themselves, Caine had been abandon too. That maybe this film was the filmmakers way of reusing him and his story to create hope. We discussed the act of creation and how it stems from boredom. We had some great talks.

They went back to writing. They still struggled. I failed.

Well no! This is my epiphany. So many times we expect perfect little products after we “teach” kids how to do something. I will teach you about poetry (as if that is even possible) and you will write a poem. Here is your A! Isn’t school fun? It is never that easy. Sometimes maybe the struggle is the point. Maybe exposing kids to frustration and forcing them to keep at it is what we should be teaching. Expecting grade seven students to write great poetry is a difficult challenge, but teaching them how to recognize the poetry which surrounds them and offering them paths towards the articulation is a great first step.

We began the journey down this path today. We identified the poetry in a simple short film and allowed it to play with our guts. We examined the results and became frustrated when we couldn’t easily create art from our experience. This is not failure. This is a beginning. This is learning. I won’t be able to assess this or put it on a rubric, but I hope that my students will be the better for it. I hope they will explore their emotions, spend quiet time with their hearts and see what comes pouring out. It will be messy and jumbled and possible incompressible, but it is my job to help them sculpt a poem from it.

I asked them to watch the film again at home and spend more time with it tonight. I asked them to simply write what they think and feel. Forget about poetry. Do not think. Just write. I shared this little nugget:

Poems are not written. They are excavated from pages of notes, scribblings & emotional detritus. A poem is not written it is sculpted.

Tomorrow I will show them this and see where we go next. I am not exactly sure where we are headed, but that is okay. We are on a journey. We are together. This is enough for now.

During the writing of this post, I received this tweet from Narvin, the creator of the film.

Who knows, maybe he will have some ideas of where we go next…

Young Grasshopper

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We have been working on Haiku in my grade 6 Language B (low-language level students) class. I have been trying a new scaffolding assignment that I would like to share. Before I continue, let me state that I understand that poetry in general, and Haiku in particular, are best enjoyed alone and outside. Let me save you from your own argumentative voice, that is begging you to scream:

“What? Using computers to write Haikus? Get those kids outside and let them feel the nature!”

True. I agree, but I am dealing with grade six students who lack the vocabulary, the motivation, or the life experience to sit like the Buddha under a tree and see the universe in a dew drop. So I am using media and technology to help them get to that mental head space, by building their skills and knowledge of language. This assignment is not meant to replace authentic poetic experience, but to help students understand it, and hopefully by the end of the unit be able to write a decent Haiku after spending a meditative period outside with nothing but a scrap of paper, a pen or pencil, and the wisdom of a silent moment beneath a tree.

Let’s start with the nuts & bolts. We have been working with images all year. After their daily shoot assignment for our last unit on film, students should now be familiar with the basic idea of capturing a poetic moment through images. The hope is that making the jump to capturing a poetic moment through text will not be too difficult. We have spoken a lot about how poetry is the art of of recognizing and naming the unnameable. We can do this through the lens of a camera or through the power of language.

In addition to taking their own pictures, they have used Flickr and the pool of amazing Creative Commons photographs there to supplement their language, so it was with Flickr that we began.

I asked each student to find four Creative Commons pictures from Flickr that embrace and celebrate nature. Choose one from each season and try to include each element: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall + Earth, Water, Fire and Air. I thought these images would be conducive to Haiku later. They were reminded to cite each photo and keep track of the URLs for later use. This has become a habit I am proud of.

Next, I created a Google Presentation as a place to pool our images. This way, I could keep track of who was doing what and comment on their choices in one place. This also allowed them to see what types of photo their peers were choosing. They added their name and the URL of the image to each slide.

Then, they were asked to brainstorm a list of words that came to mind when looking at these images. I walked around and sat with kids to help the ones who were stuck. Next we did a quick lesson on parts of speech and discussed Nouns, Adjectives, and Verbs. I asked that they create a three-column table on the slide and separate their list into the correct part of speech. We discussed how most of them lacked verbs.

But there are no actions in nature? What can a tree do?

Ah young grasshopper, this is the soul of the Haiku! But I didn’t say anything yet. Next step, I asked that they find some synonyms for the adjectives. Take a look:

Yesterday, we began to discuss Haiku. We spoke about the 5-7-5 structure of the lines, syllables, and I gave them this format to get started:

First line- Describe an object or scene (Adjective +Noun)
Second line– Give this object or scene an action (Verb)
Third line– What is the lesson?

I have been impressed with the quality of images and words they have been using. As you can see, by using tech I was able to give these kids the skills and language they need to connect to Haiku. I hope that next week, we can leave the laptops behind and go outside to observe. I hope that we can sit near a flower, make a list of words, separate them into lists and begin to write. Better yet, I hope that they begin to see the Haiku hiding in their everyday lives.

In closing, we are hoping to create a class collection of Haiku to publish in a book and perhaps a short film in which students read their Haiku over the pictures with some sound effects. Will keep you posted.

Power of a Whim

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Some teachers plan meticulously, then reflect exhaustively. I am not that kind of teacher. I like to plan with broad brush strokes– set a destination (assessment), decide what we must see on the way there (criterion, objectives) and take a map (rubric). I have been know to start a trip without the map, but I like to check in on it every once in a while. Once my unit is planned, I often improvise and go with my gut. Sometimes I will think of an idea minutes before class, and I’ll take a risk and run with it. Sometimes this helps, sometimes we get lost. Sometimes getting lost helps us get closer to where we want to be.

We are starting a poetry unit in grade seven, and I have been teaching middle school kids poetry for long enough to know it ain’t easy and/or cool. Problem is I love the stuff. I love the idea of the stuff. Throughout my career, I have tried different techniques to approaching poetry, but I seldom start with text or the word poetry.

I want students to understand that poetry is a way of life not a skill set. I will write more about poetry soon, this was meant to be a short post highlighting the power of whim.

Today was the first day back from break and after the initial- how was you week chit-chat– I told the kids to put their laptops away and read these words, which I projected on the wall:

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.

This is what I said:

I will put on some music. I want you to grab some paper, some crayons, color pencils, whatever you want and draw these words. There are few rules. Please remain silent and in your head. Then just draw. You are not done until the time is up, even if it feels like you are. Fill the whole page and take your time.

Then I turned on my iPod, put it on shuffle and we all started to draw. We listened to the Beastie Boys, Nirvana and Miles Davis. For an entire hour every kid, head down, drew. Not a word. No clarification, no griping, no nothing. Just music, poetry, and drawing. I wasn’t sure why asking kids to draw poem would be a good idea, or where it would lead us, when I started, but as I listened to the saxophone jazz and stained my fingers with pastel oils, and contemplated what actually does depend on the red wheel barrow, a funny thing happened–my brain began to work. Ideas began to grow. Flames flickered. Poetry became clear. I noticed the word glazed and I drew it. I created the world where this wheelbarrow lives. I could smell the depleted storm. I heard the chickens. I thought. I felt.

Then I got up and walked about the room. I could not hear the student thoughts, but I could see by what they were drawing that something powerful was happening in there. I let them continue for the entire class. Tomorrow we will explore the worlds they drew. We will ask questions about what they chose to draw and what they left out. We will discuss what they were thinking as they created their world. Then I will tell them that a poem is merely a door into a world they already know. A door intro their mind, their heart…

I start WWI poetry with grade 10’s tomorrow as well, and I will start the same way. We will draw:

Dark clouds are smouldering into red
While down the craters morning burns.
The dying soldier shifts his head
To watch the glory that returns;
He lifts his fingers toward the skies
Where holy brightness breaks in flame;
Radiance reflected in his eyes,
And on his lips a whispered name.

You’d think, to hear some people talk,
That lads go West with sobs and curses,
And sullen faces white as chalk,
Hankering for wreaths and tombs and hearses.
But they’ve been taught the way to do it
Like Christian soldiers; not with haste
And shuddering groans; but passing through it
With due regard for decent taste.

by Siegfried Sassoon and we might listen to this.