(no subject)
Dec. 5th, 2012 01:36 pmSince yesterday was so very difficult (not without redemption, but difficult) I pushed my writing students one step closer to the short story by making them write narratives about my day. They mourned (with smiles) that Evil Teacher was back and wrote me developing tree roots and my tree self being attacked by manic axe-wielding chimpanzees. I also fell down stairs and was attacked by pterodactyls. We remembered that it was Pickled Children's Day tomorrow and so we talked about Nicholas, about Smyrna and Bari and the development of the Santa story. I totally demonstrated my evil credentials when I pointed out that while we had just proved that Santa existed, we had also proven he was dead. They consoled themselves by learning about the role of Devil's Advocate.
We did much more than that. Our poetry today was writing in octosyllabic rhymed couplets, for instance, which most of the poets in the class really hated (which I found interesting). It's not a form that's terribly comfortable for English, I suspect. Metre is easier, for one can get into a rhythm and use the underlying beat of the language.
Word of the day was 'polyglot', which gave me an excuse to explore where whole groups of English words come from and how some groups are more prestigious than others.
And now I'm eating rice steamed with artichoke hearts, tabasco and some of the turkey broth I'm making.
We did much more than that. Our poetry today was writing in octosyllabic rhymed couplets, for instance, which most of the poets in the class really hated (which I found interesting). It's not a form that's terribly comfortable for English, I suspect. Metre is easier, for one can get into a rhythm and use the underlying beat of the language.
Word of the day was 'polyglot', which gave me an excuse to explore where whole groups of English words come from and how some groups are more prestigious than others.
And now I'm eating rice steamed with artichoke hearts, tabasco and some of the turkey broth I'm making.