In my school district, our system gives out silver Portrait of a Graduate (POG) Coins whenever a student demonstrates competencies in various aspects of citizenship and humanity.
Two months ago, six of our humanities students in our ninth grade academy took part in a state-wide presentation through Georgia Tech to share their work learning about poverty and the local projects they took on to address poverty in our community.
This will be our third year working with Elia Moreno of Texas as we move from Aha! to Action! to Advocacy! The first year, we Zoomed with her because of Covid constraints and travel hiccups. The second year, we brought her to our county (I had Covid on the day she came to visit), and this year she is returning in person- today – to stand with the students on our auditorium’s stage and continue the good work that she has helped shape in our rural Georgia county.
Students will enter a time of reviewing their work and then begin the next phase by entering a think tank to create ways to meet the needs of our community. Each year, they bring proposals to local elected officials for feedback on their ideas and suggestions on ways to make good things happen. We are building a community garden and providing food through a backpack program for children and families.
We’re blessed to be part of a community that steps up to help meet needs of others.
I was riding along Route 66 through Texas on vacation in June when the text came from my friend Melanie, who teaches in our Humanities pathway in our Ninth Grade Academy:
Actual text. I accidentally hit SEND too soon and had to finish in an unplanned bubble.
Those are the kinds of texts I love the most – when teachers invite me into classrooms to write alongside students. I met with Melanie when I returned, and we designed a plan. Our day was originally scheduled for yesterday, but we had to reschedule for today. We will write 9/11 Jenga block poems, and I will model a Nonet form to show how a poet might use visual shape to symbolize rebuilding and strengthening when all hope seemed lost.
A nonet is a poem with nine lines, containing each numbered line’s number of syllables on its line. It can be written in ascending or descending order – or both, and could even be read bottom to top if a poet decided to write it that way.
I got the idea for this form from Paul Hankins, who glues colorful letters of all different fonts onto different shapes of wooden blocks. He calls it Blockhead poetry when his students take the letters and arrange them into words, then put the words into poems.
I took the quicker way out and began purchasing sets of Jenga blocks and using whole words from magazines to put onto the blocks, and I’ve created sets on various themes such as Bloom! (gardening and growth words for National Poetry Month), poverty and genocide (two of our Humanities themes), and rural Georgia living, with words like pickup truck and dirt road. For today, I’ve created a set of 200 blocks to be used for 9/11 poetry. I’ve used them in all grades from Pre-K through 12, and with adults. Sometimes, we let a group of words inspire poems that take different forms. Sometimes, the words stand alone on lines as poems of their own. One time, we challenged ourselves to write Haiku with blocks alone and no added words.
I drafted a poem yesterday to show how students might select blocks as inspiration words. Here is my draft:
I spoke with Melanie yesterday. She was concerned that she hadn’t spent enough time building background knowledge on 9/11 to prepare for this writing but didn’t want to leave the task in the hands of a sub for such a sensitive topic. I think she made the right choice. I’m thinking that this may even have been a better approach – – because students will have seen the remembrance tributes yesterday and engaged in conversations with others. Perhaps in our initial disappointment that we’d had to reschedule the writing day, this blessing of time may have allowed students to gain greater awareness of the events in ways that laid a more meaningful foundation for us to begin.
I can’t wait to see what the students write, but more importantly, I can’t wait to write alongside them and watch their wheels turn as they make their block word choices. There’s something magical about writing, even in the midst of a topic of despair and pain.
Common Threads 