I Am poems

Next week students are preparing for standardized tests, so to ease their minds I am planning a poetry unit. I realized that if I am going to make them write this poetry, I need to write it, too. (Obviously, Laurissa, obviously). Here is the first one. It turns out a little fragmented, but I like the concept. I think the point is for students to take ownership of what they write.

I Am Laurissa

I am a friend junkie, a person infatuated with smiling
I wonder why we have memories--connective, story-driven memories
I hear whistling winds pushing through the windows
I see Mom's crinkly wrinkly eyes, bright and sparkling stars in the night sky
I want to read two books at once
I am a friend junkie, a person infatuated with smiling

I pretend to like Grandma's sweet potatoes
I feel God's resuscitating pump of my heart when it fails
I touch the glossy cover of new books
I worry about my choices
I cry over injustice
I am a friend junkie, a person infatuated with smiling

I understand A Saving Grace
I say, "Mountain peaks are the best places in the world"
I dream I'm shrinking while everyone else is growing
I try to like politics and to keep an open mind simultaneously
I hope that traveling, teaching, and loving is for me
I am a friend junkie, a person infatuated with smiling


When I was in eighth grade, my English teacher had us write a poem much like this one. She gave them back at graduation. Special.

"They just keep going until they hit something"

"Oh you'll have fun with seventh grade students. They just keep going until they hit something," said Tim Pikaart, the resource teacher at Rehoboth High School. And from my first two days' observation in my new school, I have found it to be true.
I sit at a little makeshift desk in the back of the 7th grade English classroom at Patrick Henry Middle School. Students walk by me all the time, mostly to throw away little things that can't wait until after class or to sharpen their pencils. They keep their eyes down until they think I'm not looking and glance up through loose strands of hair, and then, almost expecting it, they kick a leg of my desk or fling their arm into the wall. I think I'd like to see P.E.
They wiggle and smile crooked smiles and and have adult size feet. And they can sit in rows and act all "high school" but then I ask their favorite color, and instead of looking at me like I'm uncool, they eagerly say "Blue!"
Thus far, I have been given a smoothie, a sucker, a mint, a note that says "WELCOME," and half a pie for Pi day.
So, I know I'll miss those juniors and seniors, but bring on the seventh graders.