Poetry Post (sorry it is long....my bad)

Poetry can be an awesome tool, but somehow it has gotten a bad reputation. This chapter has helped me see how to introduce children to poetry in a way that is fun and exciting.

I enjoyed the poems for two voices in this chapter of Literature and the Child, but I enjoyed the poems that the students wrote for two voices (in the article) more. I was surprised at how much I liked the poems for two voices, I have never heard of poetry in this form before. My favorite poem by a student was ‘Greedy Selfish Brat’, and my second favorite was ‘Detroit’ by Lisa.

So (side note) reading this chapter and the article made me think of fifth grade because my teacher, Mrs. Mac, had us do a lot with poetry in her class. If I remember correctly, each student had to make a poetry book with an original example of each type of poem in it. Also in fifth grade we went through DARE, and my friend Julie read this poem (at our DARE “graduation”) that I am posting below. It elicits an emotional response from me every time I read it (aka it makes me cry), so I thought that it was worth sharing; it is a pretty simple poem.

Somebody Should Have Taught Him

I went to a birthday party
but I remember what you said.
You told me not to drink at all,
so I had a Sprite instead.
I felt proud of myself,
the way you said I would,
that i didn't chose to drink and drive,
though some friends said I should.
I knew I made a healthy choice and
your advice to me was right
as the party finally ended
and the kids drove out of sight.
I got into my own car,
sure to get home in one piece,
never knowing what was coming,
something I expected least.
Now I'm lying on the pavement.
I can hear the policeman say,
"The kid that caused this wreck was drunk."
His voice seems far away.
My own blood is all around me,
as I try hard not to cry.
I can hear the paramedic say,
"This girl is going to die."
I'm sure the guy had no idea,
while he was flying high,
because he chose to drink and drive
that I would have to die.
So why do people do it,
knowing that it ruins lives?
But now the pain is cutting me
like a hundred stabbing knives.
Tell my sister not to be afraid,
Tell Daddy to be brave,
and when I go to heaven to
put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave.
Someone should have taught him
that it's wrong to drink and drive.
Maybe if his mom and dad had,
I'd still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter,
I'm getting really scared.
These are my final moments,
and I'm so unprepared.
I wish that you could hold me, Mom,
as I lie here and die.
I wish that I could say
I love you and good-bye.

Retold by Jane Watkins