Every Wednesday, my daughter has to stand up in front of her class and recite a poem that she’s memorized for the week. Although I have fond memories of recitations, it’s a weekly struggle for my daughter. We’ve spent hours trying to memorize poems that make no sense to her. We’ve drawn pictures of the poems. We’ve cut them into pieces and moved the pieces around on the floor. We’ve discussed what the poem actually means; I’ve had her visualize the words and think in pictures. We’ve acted them out; said them dramatically; turned the lines into songs. I’ve had her type the poems and write the lines in different colors of inks. And still, it’s a struggle to learn the poems every Tuesday night. (BTW, she doesn’t get to select the poems, and some of them are admittedly quite difficult to memorize.)
Although she may struggle to memorize the poems, her observations on poem day are always delightful. She’s figured out how everyone in her class displays their own form of nervous behavior. There are kids who twist their hands, others who shift their feet, and some who look up into the sky, like the remaining words of the poem are floating around in the air somewhere. There are kids who look right; kids who look left. Faces are scrunched up in miscellaneous ways: noses wrinkled, lips licked, ears tugged.
There are statue-kids who freeze upon uttering one wrong syllable, and others who plunge bravely into the rhythmic waters, remixing the poem with bold confidence. Some say “uh” and others say “um.” Some search their memory banks for the missing words and others look straight to the teacher for a word-feed. Some give up halfway through, and others just easily bop right through it every week.
All these observations on poem day might not get her any extra credit in class, but it’s surely blog worthy.
Love, Rachel
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