We are all a little broken. But last time I checked, broken crayons still color the same.
– Trent Shelton
I am about to introduce Blackout poetry to my class for student teaching. Personally, I have been meaning to do this for a while. So when I decided I wanted to teach a lesson on poetry, this was one of the first things that came to mind as I was coming up with activities. This works well with my lesson as I am not only teaching the students to differentiate between poetry and prose but I am also teaching them to identify literary devices and the ways they help us understand text a little better. I was going to do this the old fashioned way with newspaper clippings and permanent markers but then I suddenly came across this cool interactive feature on the New York Times website.
Here’s the link if you would like to try it out: Searching for Poetry in Prose
I want to fly away too 😔
sometimes i speak
because the silence
held my hurt
better than language could
It feels weird not waking up at 6:30 in the morning and getting ready for the day. I woke up at 8:55 am and thought to myself…’Mrs. Goldberg is out there on the black pavement getting them right now…oh wait…it’s raining. They are probably in the gym waiting for her to come pick them up.’ The other day, a student was asking me, “You’re just joking with us right? You’re not really leaving?” That just broke my heart to pieces 💔 😦
It’s going to take some time getting used to it. Every time I look up at the clock, I think about what they are doing, as I have the class schedule etched into my mind. Without even thinking, I think about it. It’s 12 p.m., they just went to specials. It’s 1:15, they’re doing math. It’s 2:23…they’ve started Daily 5.
I wonder what the school looks like without all of the student teachers. Did it change? Does it look different?
I wish to be comforted by none other than you.
Your nature binding to me like puzzle pieces,
lock and key.
Well…it’s over. I’ve said my goodbyes. The kids were crying so much. I was trying not to but it was so hard. They pleaded over and over, “Please don’t go. Why do you have to go today? Can’t you go on Monday? I don’t want you to leave. Just one more day.” And all this time my heart was aching for them. They grabbed me, held onto me, hugged me in anyway they could. The room was filled with tears. I felt like a tree, my arms outstretched trying to comfort them, my trunk being embraced by these tiny beings full of life. Their bus was called or their parents came to pick them up or they had to go to C.L.A.S.P…it didn’t matter to them. They stayed until they could stay no more. Every time I sent them away…telling them if they don’t leave they’ll miss their transport home…they came running back to my side, holding onto me, tears running down their faces 😢😭.
These kids are so young and they get so attached that it’s hard for them to say goodbye. It’s hard for all of us to say goodbye. It is the last day for all of us student teachers so we are all leaving together on the same day. It’s hard. The kids will come to school on Monday and they will see that we won’t be going out to greet them outside anymore…or be doing the lunch count..or taking them to specials. I already feel empty inside so just imagine how they might feel. This attachment that has been nurtured for the past three months will be gone all of sudden and they can feel that emptiness.
With lots of promises to come and visit, write letters, and just promise to keep in touch, we’ve said our goodbyes. I hope each and everyone of them has a great year.
Three more days. The more I think about it, the more depressed I get. My students are counting down with me and with each passing day they ask me over and over again why I have to leave. Why is this so hard?