I rejoice at finding wonderful items on the internet, but I am also pleased in being found. I recently received a terrific email from a middle school English teacher whose sixth grade class was tackling poetry with some difficulty at the start. This is what she wrote to me:
After teaching all kinds of dry literary terms to kids who are often intimidated by the misconception that all poetry is cryptic and impenetrable by nature, I presented them with Sandra Cisneros' "My Wicked, Wicked Ways". They were awakened. They were transported. To keep them there, suspended in a state of fascination and of vulnerability, I challenged them to bring in a picture to which they are emotionally connected in some way. Some did, and some, as would be expected, forgot or ignored my request. I warned them, that in that event, I will pick a picture for them and that they would have to write as if my pick were personal to them. I googled family pictures and decided on yours. (see the original post: How They Drank in the 40s)
We wrote. I wrote one too, alongside them. We read them, we clapped, we nodded our heads, we listened. The purpose of this email is to let you know that the act of putting that picture out there changed some of us. It helped us look deeper. It forced us to connect. It made us listen to each other and see things the way we wouldtn've on our own, perhaps.
They’d meetFor the greatest feastImportant womenCome to drinkSome smokeSome don’tThey are dressed upLike Christmas treesLaughing and talkingEating and drinking.Their laughs are noisyFrom a concertAs they talk like the dolphinsDrinking the wineFrom their cupsEating roasted vegetablesThey leaveAnd have a good night.