Blog Reflection 4: Number Poem

Number Poem

Base your number poem on a sequence of numbers important to you—a social Security number, a zip code, a date (written in numerals: e.g., 10-31-1924), an address, telephone number, lucky numbers… The sequence you choose sets the pattern of syllables for you poem.

Step 1. Select a sequence of numbers important to you.

Step 2. To get language for your poem, jot down images and scenes that connect with you number: people, faces, actions, moments, scenes. Then, lay out your pattern of lines and syllables, as above. Work “the meat” of your jottings into your pattern, changing language as necessary to fit the counts. In short, connect content and form.

Examples:
(LINE #)	(Syllables)	CALL
(1)	XXXXXX	Tacked alongside this phone
(2)	XXX	a friend’s face.
(3)	XXXXXX	I cannot say his name
(4)	XXXX	yet know him well.
(5)	XXXXXXXXXX	One night he disappeared, as light from fire,
(6)	XXXXXXX	went out for good. Still, I’ll
(7)	XXXXX	know him when he calls.

PHONE

If you

Would like to know my phone number, you Will need to

Count the syllables in each sentence. With what you get there

PLEASE REMEMBER

If the phone rings after midnight, with a lonesome voice calling to

you, please remember there is

someone far from home tonight who needs your words of friendship.

--Sadie Tirmizi (444-4786)

NIGHT SOUNDS

And now

The cricket chirps Outside my door again—

His song will pierce my thoughts and dreams Tonight.

--Glynn Bridgewater

775-9184

The phone sits here, black and hard

As charcoal waiting to flame when you call me up

And your words begin their hot, bright fires. Well,

Nothing’s burning now at this end. Afraid? Afraid?

--Robert King

Day 3 Blog reflection

Taboo Words is a wonderful one shot challenge that works for all ages. Your task is to write a story about the picture below without using the words: SAND, WATER, BLUE

Morning reflection Day 3

TURF FEINZ RIP RichD Dancing in the Rain Oakland Street/Yak Films

Classroom Environment Fail

This year I decided to really go all out in decorating my classroom. I'm not saying I'm on a Pinterest-worthy level, but it looks homey and comfortable I got some bouncy chairs and butterfly chairs and small rugs.  One of the highlights of my new decor was the lighting. I suffer from migraines and coincidentally noticed that my students hate the florescent lights, so I decked out the room with Christmas lights-galore and lots of lamps.

Headache-free teacher and homey classroom- end of story, right? I typically kept the main light in the front of the classroom off so that we could better see the SmartBoard screen. The back light remained on so that students would be able to see their work. This sometimes caused what can only be referred to as the Lighting Wars. "Turn that one off!" one student would yell. "No!! It's too dark in here!!" another would retort. It was like a sitcom. I'd be teaching and all of sudden complete darkness would surround me.

One day, I took a rare bathroom break because I had other teachers supporting me in the room. As a I re-entered the room, a student with a heart for justice was on a tirade about these "stupid Christmas lights" and how they were a "waste of energy messing up the planet..." He unplugged every single lamp or string of lights in the room, sat back in his chair, looked at me and said, "I don't know what the point of all this is anyway!"

My attempt at Domain -2ing my room up had burst into flames. I couldn't decide whether to go the Democracy or Dictator route. I split the difference. I explained that the added lights were supposed to create a more comforting feel to OUR room, but that practically speaking, we'd all be able to see what we were doing. "Don't y'all want this room to look nice," one of supporters cried out. I'd forgotten about my original aesthetic mission.  Reluctantly, I re-emerged as the President of semi- democratic republic of room 221. From here on out, only I or a designated light flicker could touch the light-and ultimate lighting decisions would be based on ability to see our work.

Story from another perspective

Today I was late again, thinkin', "... wonder if this lady is going to let me in. She probably doesn't want me in this class anyway." Okay, whatever, I decided to just sit here and do what she wants me to do.

See, I kinda like this class- I feel comfortable in here- it kind of looks like somebody's home. Oddo, she's been alright toward me. Other teachers stay on my case, but I know we are cool overall, unless I really make her lose her patience.

These kids stay arguing over the Christmas lights and other lights. To be honest, I like when all the lights are out because I can put my head down and go to sleep. Today she stepped out to go to something and left us in here with these other teachers. I got mad because I wanted more of the lights off- I was just having a bad day and didn't want to see those bright lights. I got up and decided to flick one of them off. When Oddo walked back in the room, she told me to have a seat.

I just burst out: "Why do we have all these damn lights anyway? You're just wasting energy..."

"Here, I said, "Let me turn them off for you!" I went to them all, one at a time and started ripping out cords. She tried to down play it but I knew it probably made her so mad. She was talking about "I'm disappointed that I stepped out and come back to find students out of their seats." I don't really care. I just want to left alone.

Day Two Reflection: Patrick's Perspective from "What Defines a Good Teacher"

(New Perspective)

I’m the stupid kid, the one who can’t read. The teachers have tried for years to get me to read.  It’s hard putting all the sounds and letters together. I can’t remember what all the words say.  All the other kids know, but I don’t.  My mom will take me with her to go shopping, but I can’t help.  I know what cheese looks like but I don’t know which one says swiss or which one says cheddar. My younger brother knows.  I don’t.

My mom gets me tested all the time.  They don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I want to be like other kids.  I don’t like being different. Sometimes the other kids let me hang around with them, sometimes they don’t.

I hate school. None it makes sense. My teachers try to help but like I said, I’m the stupid kid, the one who can’t read.  I’m in a special class. I get extra reading but it never helps. When I’m not in a special class, I end up in the hallway playing UNO with my TA.

This new reading teacher thinks she can help me.  She’s doing the same thing all the other teachers did. 

It’s so stupid. 

It doesn’t work. 

I can’t remember.  I’m stupid!  Doesn’t she know?!  I can’t read! 

Why is she making she try to learn these sounds? I can’t find the small word!

I’m so mad! This sucks! I can’t do this!

Maybe if I kick this chair over, she’ll kick me out of class and I can get out of here!

----------------------------------------------

She doesn’t kick me out.  She sits me down and talks to me.  Is this a trick?  What’s wrong with this lady?  We talk.  She wants to know why I’m upset and how she can help.  She said she would work on a new plan.  Pffff…I’ll start shuffling my UNO cards.

-------------------------------------------------

Today I read five new words.  Big deal, right?  But it was kind of exciting. I mean I remembered them.  I’m teaching my teacher about scooters.  She knows nothing about them!  How is that possible!  I know everything about scooters.  I’ve been showing her pictures of Razor scooters and all the best grip tape, decks, wheels, forks, and clamps.

To be continued…

Day two

Hmm…I wonder when will we start writing again? It seems all we do is fill out these organizers with a lead, and then give facts about an animal and then a closing. Ok, I know how to do this. We did it once. How many times do we have to practice this?  When will we go back to our regular time when Mrs. Maier writes with us and then we take off and write on our own? I would rather write about tarantulas, hamsters, turtles or something I know about. I miss writing about things that are meaningful to me. I miss writing with my friends and sharing our stories, but most of all I miss choosing what I will write about. So, I ask Mrs. Maier “When will we start writing again?”  She said we were doing writing every day.  These animal stories are writing? Who knew writing could be so awful. This isn’t the writing that I want to do. Can’t wait to get home so I can write what I want to in my journal at home.

Changing the narrative

I first met her at the door in the Quest room. I was standing in the frame with my back facing the hall. She came up and looked over my shoulder asking if Ms. Nelson was there. I snapped at her not to come into “my” classroom. She was unphased, playing along with me. She mentioned the hip hop class and I told her I had signed up. She was really excited. She might be okay. I couldn’t believe how great the class was once it got started. Student led! I went with that theme full on. I talked a lot and got on people’s case if they weren’t doing what they were supposed to do. Larson got the equipment I asked for to be the DJ and let me do alternatives to the assignments. She let me use her computer to work on the music and trusted me with keys to her office. That hadn’t happened before. She never yelled at me or got on my case for not doing something. I was always the kid in trouble. My home life is really hard and jail has definitely happened. I was actually in jail two days before our final performance. Larson called and asked after me. Everyone was excited that I got out in time. This class really made a difference for me. I even called places to try to get us gigs for money. Reenah asked me to volunteer at her new theatre and will pay me to DJ for her events. Who knows, maybe this will be something.