A Peek at Poetry in my Classroom

"Ms. Johnson, does this make sense?"

"What?"

"Can windchimes frolic?"

I look up from the paper I am reading, wondering if I heard her correctly.  I start to tell her no, but then remember.  My other classes may be working on research papers and arguments, but Creative Writing is working on poetry.  I smile.

"The windchimes frolicked," I say, testing the sound, "Well, technically it doesn't make sense for windchimes to frolic, but the nice thing about poetry is you can play with language and meaning.  What are you trying to say?"

"Well, I wanted to have them dancing, but I liked how frolicked sounded."

"Then use frolic.  I like how it sounds too."

She beams at me and returns to her poem.  I pull my notebook over and jot down the phrase.  I want to save it for later.

Paper Wishes (SOLSC 8/31)

 

We had a few minutes before the bell and I noticed a student had several paper butterflies on her desk.

"Oh, those are nice."

"Thanks.  I was writing my "how to" blog post on origami and made them as practice.  You can keep them if you want."

Blogging has long been a practice in my classroom for a few years now.  I assign them different "types" of blogs to try throughout the year just to see which kinds of blogs they might like.  Many students for their "how to" blog of course used recipes, so I was excited about something different.  I accepted her offering and even tucked one of the paper butterflies near a 'Welcome' sign hanging next to the main door where she sits.

Now, I'm not sure if I just missed some or what, but ever since that first day I have slowly been finding more and more paper butterflies in my room.  Each of them around the same spot.  Each time I gather them and start affixing them to the welcome sign. I'm starting to think she's making them and leaving them behind for me to find.  But I never see her make them and I can't tell if it's just one I happened to miss the day before.

Either way it makes me happy.  I love the little reminders of their time with me.  It can be paper butterflies, sticky note doodles, notes on my white board, or even stickers I gave them placed in unexpected spaces. It's evidence that they were here -- if even for a brief moment.

What little treasures are being left in your classrooms?

(Update: I started writing this blog yesterday, so today I intentionally kept an eye on that side of the classroom.  Sure enough, I witnessed her gathering up a small selection of paper butterflies and even a crane! I knew it!)

                        Today's slice was brought to you by another Teach Write Daily Writing prompt.

Chance Encounters (SOLSC 7/31)

 

"I think I know her." I say, watching as the waitress hurries past us and out the door.  I didn't get a good look at her face, and I can't help but try and catch her eye as she leaves.  I know it will bug me if I don't say something.  I am shy, but I will break my habit of talking to strangers if it is a stranger I think I recognize.  I make a mental note to find her later.

Fortunately, I don't have to as when we are seated for lunch, the familiar face is the one to slide up to our table.  Here is my chance! I'm now 99% positive I recognize this young woman about to take our order. However, before I can say anything, my dad chimes in: "My daughter thinks she knows you."

The waitress's eyes light up as she finally sees me for the first time.  I smile and we both make the connection at the same time.  I recognize her as a former student at the same time she remembers me as her former teacher.

She squeals as she says my name, clearly delighted: "Ms. Johnson, right?"  

"Yes, and you're Amaya."  I'm usually terrible at student names, but despite not having taught her since 2016 I still remember her vividly.  I didn't quite match her enthusiasm, but only because I was still in a bit of shock.  I wonder if this is how celebrities feel when they are recognized in public?

It was surreal moment, especially in the middle of lunch on a random Sunday afternoon in an area far from my usual stomping grounds.  Then again, we were in the area of where I first started teaching, so it wasn't completely random.  

"What are you doing these days," she asks.

"Oh, still teaching.  I'm at Vilonia now though.  How are you?"

"I'm good!  I just started here.  I drive by the high school sometimes, just to see how it's grown.  It's so much better now."

I nod, I hadn't seen it for myself, but I could remember the years I worked there.  It wasn't a building so much as a collection of trailers in those days.  Although at least then I had windows.  "It's good to see you too."

I try not to dwell on the fact that I don't have nearly the enthusiasm to see her.  I wouldn't say I have bad memories of her, but I didn't think we were so close as to elicit that squeal of excitement. My real mistake comes when I share that with my parents after they ask me if she was a good student. 

"Not really," I say without thinking.  But, I amend later, "She was just a teenager with some attitude."  

I don't remember how it comes up, but as we are getting ready to leave she brings my parents the check and mentions that I was actually her favorite teacher!  

"Really?"  I'm flattered, touched, and a little embarrassed, because of what I had said earlier.

"Yes!  I loved how bubbly and positive you were.  You were the best teacher at charter."

I don't know if I'll be back at that restaurant, but it was a humbling experience to have a student be so thrilled to see me.  It just goes to show how wildly different experiences can occur despite being in the same room.

Echo (SOLSC 1/31)

Eyes wide with surprise, a grimace of disgust, jaws slack with horror, and shoulders either tense with anxiety or dropped in defeat -- these were just a few of the expressions I witnessed from my students today. Each reaction was unique as they realized the same thing: I had moved the tables and chairs!

It didn't matter which class period it was, the sentiment was echoed*:

"The tables are moved!" "Why did you change the desks?" "Ew! I don't like it." "Can we change it back!" 

Sometimes the displeasure was not verbally expressed, but physically.  I had at least three different students attempt to move a chair where I did not want a chair to be moved.

Of course, the only one happy about the new arrangement was me.  And more than one student accused me of taking pleasure in their pain today.  I was amused, but not at the pain.  Instead, I was smiling at the observation that despite changing the layout, very little had changed in terms of where people sat. Nearly every class migrated to the exact same spot in the room they had previously occupied.  Or at least they got as close to it as they could.  

There were two exceptions to this.

One class finally had the freedom to sit where they chose (earlier in the year I had assigned them seats due to behavior) and immediately snapped back to their previous locations of choice.

The other exception was a pair of boys who decided to lean into the chaos and took up residence at a table away from their normal group.  However I quickly learned that this was not a positive.  One student joked that they had "breeched containment" because even though they were sitting on the opposite side of the room, they still felt the need to communicate with their former group members. (I'll address that tomorrow).

Aside from that, it was an attempted lesson in change, yet so few of them actually changed anything.  Apparently we are creatures of habit and in order to combat changes we will take it upon ourselves to find some form of comfort instead.

*NOTE: Today's slice was inspired by one of the Teach Write Daily Writing Prompts for March.  I will likely be pulling much of my writing from these prompts and if you are stuck for an idea, I encourage you to do the same.  You can find the prompts posted on both our Twitter & Instagram accounts @teachwriteedu.

 

Three Times I Said Shit (Without Thinking)

The first time was in elementary school.  I was at a good friend's sleepover and we were playing a loose game of either hide and seek or tag.  I had tucked myself beneath some large pillows and out of nowhere another girl ran in and body slammed me and my hiding spot.

"SHIT!"

There was a gasp of horror and the room fell into silence as several little girls processed what had just happened.  One of the girls squeaked that they were going to tell on me and I ran.  I cannot say if the tears in my eyes were from embarrassment, betrayal, or pain.

I hid myself in a closet -- terrified and guilty.

Skip ahead a decade or so and now I'm an adult working with teens.  My teacher neighbor is a woman with high energy and no boundaries named Heather.  She was constantly flouncing into my room (if I left the door unlocked) and chatting with me and my students.  If I did remember to lock the door against her, she would only knock loudly and I'd let her in anyway.  It may sound bad, but she made us all laugh with her antics and it was usually not in the middle of class so I never minded the disruption.

On one particular day, the class and I were getting ready for quiet reading time.  I had claimed a spot in the back -- I used to love reading among the students instead of behind my desk -- and we were settling in for the last 20 minutes of class to read.  The classroom was quiet, pin drop quiet, as we all settled into the pages of our books.

Then, at the back of the room, came a loud BANG.  

For context, I believe the news had recently been reporting on a school shooting and I was on edge.  The banging on my door was a sound I had been taught to dread.  My mind immediately went to the worst case scenario: someone was trying to break down my door and shoot us!

"SHIT!"

My attention immediately snapped to the door and there I found not the face of a killer, but the killer grin of my notorious teacher neighbor, Heather, as she pressed her face against the glass window of the door.  She waved: "Hello!"

I groaned and mentally uttered a few more curse words for her.  Before I let her in, I apologized to my students, but unlike the temperamental elementary girls, they were more understanding.  After all, her sudden appearance had startled them as well.

And then there was last week.  We had been sent an email that we were to expect a lockdown drill that day.  When the announcement came, I instructed my students to get the lights and to be quiet.  I thought the doors were already shut and locked, but as I watched one of my students venture to the tissue box it hit me.  The doors were locked, but the magnetic strip allowing for easy entry was still in place.

I knew administration was wandering the halls, checking rooms at random, and without thinking I stumbled across the room:

"OH SHIT!"

I did not trip, but I felt like I was in a horror movie, afraid the killer was going to push against the door just as I tried to secure it.  It was a drill, but all I could imagine was the real scenario and how I had just wasted precious seconds securing the room.  I cracked the door, slipped the magnet strip out, and closed it again.  

Luckily, no administration was nearby, but I did have to then deal with a gaggle of giggling teens reassuring me that it wasn't that serious.

It was, but I hope my antics at least eased some of the tensions from having to practice such a drill.

Could I have been more professional?  Yes, but when you are dealing with people's lives I think a few choice words are permitted.

Secret Connoisseur of Stickers

I love when I can have a piece of writing serve more than one purpose.  

This past month I have been spending much of my writing energy -- at least the writing energy that isn't dedicated to noveling -- on poetry.  After all, it IS national poetry month.  Most of my poetry writing has been inspired by the daily prompts over at Ethical ELA.  Today's prompt (using the idea of "secret connoisseurs") not only captures a slice of one of my favorite classroom habits, but also just one of my favorite things in general: stickers.

Weekend Coffee Share | Patio Make Over

Welcome back, friend.  

I'm glad you could stop by and visit.  Did you notice something new?  Well, my parents were by this morning and we were able to spruce up my apartment patio area with flowers, plants, and a new set of windchimes.  Best of all, my mother gifted me a cafe table and chair that she had originally found by the side of the road.  I had mentioned how I wanted to write outside more, but my furnishings at the time were less than ideal for it.  

Cue my mother saying "Oh.  I have a table out back that might work for that."  

And, sure enough, it fits perfectly on the patio and is the right size to hold my laptop, a cup of coffee, and allow me to actually sit up in the chair instead of slouching over my portable lap desk.  

My dad contributed to my patio make over by putting up some mesh wire so that my dog could not slip out between the bars and as of this writing he's currently lounging out here and enjoying the view with us. 

#SOL21 | 29 | Senioritis Strikes Back

Today was our first day back from a week long Spring Break and the school was already off to a great start.  I had arrived to find that at some point over that week the power had been lost to the school and our clocks/bells were no longer working.  Not a big problem, at least, not compared to the Internet outage we would suffer a few hours later into the day.

But this slice isn't about the internet outage.

#SOL21 | 18 | A Brief Exchange About Dreams

"Do you remember your dreams?"

I don't know why a small group of senior boys was having this conversation, but that's the part I overheard.  For the purposes of this slice I will give them the names Edward, Jeff, and Ned.  Edward was the one who had asked about dreams.

"I've been writing my dreams down.  Otherwise I have a hard time remembering them," I said, jumping into their conversation.  

Ned nodded while Jeff leaned back in his chair, "I can usually remember mine that day, but not for much longer."

"What's the last dream you remember," Ned asked me.

"Well, last night I had a dream about catching a koi fish.  I had nowhere to put it, so I stuck it in a garbage bag with some water and then I had to carry it onto the subway."

"Why were you on the subway?"

"I don't know.  I think I was in London?"

"London has subways?  I thought it had trolleys."

"No," I chuckle, "I think you're thinking of San Francisco."

"Oh! Right."

"A couple of weeks ago I had a dream I was a detective," Jeff added, sitting forward, "I was solving someone's murder."

I thought that was pretty cool.  I could actually see Jeff as a detective and would definitely love to read or see a story like that.  He'd be pretty cool solving crimes.

Ned seemed to agree with me, but then added: "I had a dream I was with these giant spiders and they made me the king of the spiders.  I had a crown."  He raised his hands to his head, miming the placement of the crown.  I would not want to rule over spiders, but again I thought it sounded like a pretty cool dream.  

We looked to Edward, the one who had asked originally, but he just shook his head, "I actually never remember my dreams.  I don't know what dreams are really like.  Yours all sound pretty cool though."

It made me a little sad that Edward didn't remember his dreams.  We continued to share a few we remembered and even had a brief discussion about flying in dreams -- especially if lucid dreaming was involved.  For Jeff and Ned flying and hovering came easy, but for me I always struggled with it.  But, at least I could have those dreams.  Unlike Edward.

This post is part of the 14th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge.  

#SOL21 and information around Slicing can be found on Two Writing Teachers. 

#SOL21 | 15 | Socks

Every day I ask students an attendance question.  Something simple and fun -- either/or questions or favorite/least favorite thing -- to start the class and sometimes even prompt conversation.  Much like stickers, my high school students can get strangely into it depending on the topic and sometimes I am completely shocked by what will get them excited.

Today's question was "Describe your socks."

We are coming up on weather that makes for less sock wearing, so I thought this would be a good day to ask this question.  My own socks tend to be colorful and fun.  I actively try NOT to wear just plain socks any more and I'll be honest it definitely makes folding/matching a lot easier.  

However, that doesn't seem to be the case with my students, which surprised me.  Most students' socks were black, white, or grey.  Many added the detail that they were wearing Under Armor, Nike, or Adidas socks.  Some mentioned whether it had a stripe or other marker.   There were only two that stood out as "fun" though: polka dots and llama socks.

One students reported they were wearing one sock due to an injury requiring a boot.  

Another student specified that they had stolen their mom's socks today because they didn't have a matching pair of their own.  

One student decided to provide me with a series of alternate names for socks: "Achilles Blanket" which I was amused by and "Foot Jacket" which made me cringe for some reason.

I proceeded to end the attendance question time by describing my own socks: white with pictures of records in alternating blue and yellow.  I expressed my disappointment that more of them weren't wearing "fun" socks.  A girl towards the front of the class replied, "Sorry.  We just don't have socks as cool as yours."

"That's okay," I replied, "I pride myself on my sock game."

What socks are you wearing today or what's your craziest pair of socks you own?

#SOL21 | 11 | Today was...

Today was a school day.

Today was a day for calculating the 12th graders last days.

Today was a day for breaking open writing to see how it ticked.

Today was a day to remember that though they are nearly adults, they are still just kids.

Today was a day for wandering outside to fresh air, fields, and nature trails tucked behind schools.

Today was a day for imagining monsters emerging from a pond, partaking of student sacrifices.

Today was a day to remember that though they are nearly adults, they are still just kids.

Today was a Thursday trying to hide itself as a Friday.

Today was a good day.

#SOL21 | 10 | A Turn Before Algebra

I stand at the intersection of the English hall and the main hall of our building.  It's 7:45 am and the bell just rang, signaling that students can begin entering their first block classes.  It's a small trickle at first.  Each day the seniors seem to arrive just a little bit later, playing chicken with the tardy bell and a d-hall slip.

Across the hall from me, a teacher greets passing students with enthusiasm I cannot muster -- at least not for his subject area: math.  Most students are given some variation of this greeting: 

"Good Morning, Jordan! It's another good day for math."

"There's Elise.  I know she's ready for math."

I wait.  I am keeping an eye on the hall where most students enter.  I am looking for a particular student.  For over two weeks now I have watched this girl do a pirouette in the middle of the hall just before ducking into math class.  About a week ago I started giving her an applause, but today I decided to take it a step further and I can't wait to see how she responds.  

The clock ticks closer to the start of class and I start to wonder if I am going to see her at all.  She is a senior after all and may be taking her time getting here. Just when I think I'm going to have to go to my own class, I spot her and smile behind my mask.  

I quickly step forward, blocking her way to the door, "Hey! Let's both twirl!"

Even with her mask, I can see her eyes light up, "Okay!"

I have her demonstrate a twirl for me and then step away, ready to do one together: "3...2...1..."

And a teacher and student do a pirouette together just outside of math class.