Writing in my middle school classroom.
This is how it happened:
Can you give us three objects, Miss Fer?
Who has the rhyming dictionary?
Do we have to write on the topic?
Can I sit on the bean bags?
Heads wag to music,
Pencils poise above blank, expectant spaces.
Giggles rise and recede like the tide.
Turn your screen so I can see it, please.
I’m thinking…
I’m looking for inspiration
And words slowly emerge from
The carpet at your feet dots on the ceiling gunfire ashes in the air loneliness divorce
mothers and fathers and stepfathers and stars and sports
Camels, donuts, soldiers,
and the pain of writing poetry
She’s giving me feedback
He’s reading my story
Shhhhhhhhh, I’m writing.
Notebooks of adolescent experience:
She eats lunch alone and you notice
He writes about himself, an enigma
A tribute, a diatribe, a memory
Angry words, happy words, pleading words,
Safe words.
Would anyone like to share?
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