We’ve started the annual poetry unit despite much moaning and groaning. They are all horribly afraid that I will make them write poetry even though I have assured them that this unit is much more about analysis of famous people’s poetry, and that I don’t want to read their angst ridden poems anyway. I’ve tried to get them to practice their “barbaric yawps,” but so far the yawps are weak. I think they are intimidated by my yawp. Perhaps I should take them to “the rooftop of [our] world” and practice yawping from there. I imagine that falling off the roof of the school would inspire a yawp or two on the way down.
In an effort to distract me from the task at hand, namely “O’ Captain, My Captain,” there was a reference to the character from Hot Fuzz who only says, “Yarp,” not “Yawp” the whole movie. Then someone managed to bring up math which segued into an angry math haiku. I don’t remember how it was worded, just that it was angry, wasted a lot of syllables on articles, and lacked imagery. Don’t bring up math in my classroom.
This led to someone else announcing that he had written a haiku (goodbye classroom management). The haiku went as such:
“Haikus are okay
But they don’t make sense to me.
We all enthusiastically agreed the “refrigerator” was a baller haiku move. This, of course, led to:
I want refrigerator.
Technically accurate, but not as immediately impressive.
The next class had stronger yawps, but were just as prone to haiku writing as a last resort to distract me. We had finished discussing “O’ Captain, My Captain,” and someone asked to go to the restroom. I said,”Sure. As soon as you write a haiku about it!” This earned me an exasperated eye roll and a dramatic exit to the potty. The remaining students were up to the task:
“Badly, need to pee
Soaking, dripping, soggy pants.
Should have smelled better”
Someone suggested “asparagus” for the last line, but was overruled.
The things Whitman drives us to do. I guess I need to bring a refrigerator in to the room to post these masterpieces.