This poem was written by Nicole Jenkins, a former Pathways to Social Justice participant. I am the woman on the right, one of our conference coordinators, Sue Fletcher, is in the middle, and Aurelia, a fellow English teacher from down the road, is on the left. Can you tell which of us is the perpetrator, the bystander, and the victim? Can you tell that I must have used up a whole box of tissues that week? We must have practiced this delivery for at least an hour.
I love poetry. The fact that you can layer words together to create new meaning, that you can play with language or order your thoughts and connect with your reader makes it one of my favorite genres to write. But how do you get students who think in blank and white to see the shades of mauve and deepest indigo that poetry traces in your mind?
My first year, I tried the poetry in our textbook. I liked the images included with the poems, but I noticed that my sophomores were turned off. They were disengaged and unhappy with the poems I chose. So the next year, I tried something new.
I introduced music as poetry. I found the lyrics of some of my favorite songs, like Tom Waits’s “Black Wings”, and the lyrics of some of their favorite songs, like Taylor Swift’s “Love Story.” I copied them on paper and wrote questions at the bottom. This worked okay as an introduction to poetry, but the wide variety of prior knowledge that students bring to the lowest level of 10th grade English became a problem.
One student, who had dropped down from Advanced 9th, could find and create figurative language, like metaphors, as well as sound devices, like alliteration. When we read and answered questions as a class, this student tuned me out. But I couldn’t skip the explanations of literary devices, because other students had no tool box of literary devices from previous years to open and unpack poetry.
This year, I applied technology to the disengagement and differentiation problems. Curriculet not only had a wealth of poetry with questions aligned to the Common Core already created, it also allowed me to import my own poems. Because Curriculet allows a teacher to embed their own questions and annotations, I knew I could create the ultimate poetry unit.
I started again with music, because I knew it was a way to open the doors of poetry for students. First, we looked at Taylor Swift’s “Love Story.” One improvement that jumped out right away was that students could work at their own pace. Those students who knew Romeo and Juliet from last year could bypass the video that showed the balcony scene from Romeo’s point of view. Those that had no clue about the play got the support they needed.
The next thing I noticed was that students did not know how to interact with the annotations. Although we had worked earlier in the year on how to take notes from video clips, I had to reteach taking notes from the annotations. It was worth it, though, because I was able to build on prior knowledge that I knew all students had.
We moved on to two more songs, Tom Waits’s “Black Wings” and Bruce Cockburn’s “Celestial Horses.” Now students knew how to take notes, but some were rushing through the poems and getting many of the short answers wrong. Because Curriculet’s interface was so easy to work with, I found that I could grade all 85 students’ work in less than a half an hour. This meant that the very next day, I could attempt some reteaching.
Any student who had successfully completed the short answers got some free time in class, to silently read or do other homework, while the struggling students could go through the answers with me. By differentiating using Curriculet, I could meet the needs of my students.
Now that they had a strong foundation of basic knowledge, in an easy to digest music format, I moved on to meatier subjects. Our textbook has many poems about death, but I have really like Jean Toomer’s “Reapers” and John McCrae’s “Flander’s Fields.” Often students struggled with grasping what is happening in both poems, because they have no context for farming without power tools or for World War I. In the past, I had students read an article about World War I, but it never seemed to connect with students.
By importing informational text into Curriculet, I opened a window to World War I for my students. First, they read about John McCrae himself, to get an idea of who the poet was. Next, students read about the battle of Ypres, so they could have historical context for the poem. I could embed videos about trench foot, as well as war footage. For the first time, students began using the define function embedded within Curriculet, to look up words they didn’t know.
With all that background, they easily understood “Flander’s Fields.” With a little help from some embedded videos, they understood “Reapers,” as well. Because I wanted them to compare themes, I put the poems together in one curriculet.
The last poetry curriculet I created was “Auto Wreck,” by Karl Shapiro. In the past, I tried to get students to focus on specific lines by numbering lines. I would still have students struggle with exactly which lines I meant. This time, I could use the highlight function on my curriculet, so students knew exactly what lines to look at.
Thanks to Curriculet’s free content, I could even include “Chicago,” another poem by Carl Sandburg, as an outside of class assignment. Even with a pre-created curriculet, you can edit the annotations and the questions. I was able to make this poem accessible to my students by modifying the content provided.
In my four classes, I saw an increase in student completion over previous years, thanks to Curriculet. Even my struggling students got the help they needed in a timely fashion, because I could easily see which questions needed reteaching. My more advanced students could progress at their own pace. I could even see the students who barely spent seat time on poems, and let them know they needed to take more time. Curriculet empowered me to reach all my students.
Bright orchid orbs absorb
snatches the breeze,
holding it hostage, stuffing it
back pockets. Bitter
of a frozen feast.
Leap for ladybugs,
overturn water dishes,
dig holes in the carpet,
yowl at midnight.
These times I regret
the frozen night we
opened the door
bound up and
stick to the lap of my oldest
The shhh of the rapids
The hidden rainbow
of a dinosaur footprint
The incessant roar
of a November wind
The dry crackle
The warmth of
one small hand
The dessicated lungs of
sycamore and oak
surge against a
faded cerulean sea,
our sneakered feet,
decompose as we
grind them underfoot.