The Highwayman...

Last weeks' Sam Mcgee is old news.

We're on to "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes. This has become one of my favorite poems. I think for the kids too. We've listened to an itunes reading, another youtube variant, and of course my version that I scanned in from a picture book from amazon.com and Loreena Mckennit's song.

Once I get a poem in my head, the kids know we're going to be studying it all week. I want to look at the tone, the rhythm, the onomatopoeia, the story, and the meaning.

I get a little manic, and I think the kids like that. They won't admit to it. Not on your life! Monday, the students asked me when we were going to move on from this poem and start studying something other than poetry. I ignore them. Well slightly, I don't want to be bored either. I've been listening and reading "The Highwayman" five times a day for the past three days. I was beginning to tire of the poem at the end of seventh hour Monday. I thought for sure no one was paying attention. I felt like Ben Stein in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." I had to get through the poem. It's not like I could just tell the kids "Awww let's just forget and move on." That doesn't happen. I'm on a plan darn it... These kids are going to learn the poem.

As we listened to my masterpiece, I noticed some kids not paying attention at all while others were following the poem line by line. Afterwards, I had the students read the poem stanza by stanza.

Some students volunteered and I casually listened to their reading. Finally, I had one student waving his arms back and forth.

"You know, just because I'm not raising my hand high doesn't mean that I'm not interested in reading it aloud. It's like have to have a seizure to get your attention."

"Oh... I didn't notice." I said. I was a little surprised. Although this kid is bright, funny, and talented, he makes no bones about my class being a bore for him. I relented and he and his buddy went to the front of the room.

"Is it OK if we do this together?"

"uh sure?"

So, those two fourteen year old boys, stood in front of their eighth grade class and sang two stanzas of "The Highwayman" in a beautiful harmony.

The other students' mouths fell open. My mouth fell open.

And everyone was back at square one loving "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes.

Sam Mcgee--- He's one cool guy

This past week, we've been learning the poem "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert Service. I've been having a great time with this poem. We read this poem after a unit on "The Call of the Wild" by Jack London. Both literary works have a shared historical context of the Klondike Gold Rush in Canada's Yukon. Next week, we are going to study the Iditarod. After all, there's a story in the book all about the Iditarod, and as the teacher, I get to choose what's interesting.

Believe it or not, I just remembered an old high school friend reciting this poem for Speech. I saw him on Facebook one Sunday morning and asked him why he chose this poem for Speech. He told me that his grandpa used to take him ice fishing and would recite the poem to him.

Our school principal came into the room and recited the poem to all five of my sections. The kids ooed and awed over his ingenious memory. It was fabulous. It was fun. It's all apart of my evil plan to help them connect to poetry.


I'll tell the kids, "I'm the judge on interesting. If you know what's good for you, you'll find this interesting."


Sometimes they believe me. After hearing, watching, reading, questioning, I almost have this poem memorized. I bet this poem has been in and out of my brain at least thirty times in the last two weeks.

I try to really emphasize the imagery of the poem. Robert Service really appeals to his reader's sensory imagination as he tells us about Cap "stuffing" the corpse of Sam Mcgee into the furnace for his cremation. The sizzle always grosses me out... Ew... this poem is really gruesome.

This is probably why I chose this poem. The kids will remember it.

I found an awesome video on youtube. Urgelt gave me instructions on how to download it and use it for my class. I can't figure out how to save it so I can show it in Quicktime. I will though... Really I will!!!

I hope they will always remember the poem. Maybe they'll take their kids ice fishing one day tell their kids about this poem they memorized and start;

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
by the men who moil for gold.
The arctic trails have their secret tales
that would make your blood run cold.

The northern lights have seen queer sights
but the queerest they ever did see
was by the marge of Lake Legarge
where I cremated Sam Mcgee.

Students

Eighth grade is studying sex education in Health. Now, they're obnoxious in study hall. Grrrr... really obnoxious. You know the drill. There's a lot of giggles. A lot of "Oh Gross." My favorite was this;

"Mrs. Aakhus, they really need to make Health Rated R!!!"

On Growing Up....

As a young girl, I used to fantasize on how I would get even with all the bullies and mean people in school. My imagination soared in science class. My day dreams expand in math.


I would become a famous movie star and have a big party and not invite them.

Or better yet, I would become a famous movie star, have a big party, and invite them... and rub my beauty and wealth.... in their face!

I would become so beautiful that they would all beg and beg to become my friend. I would laugh haughtily... and walk away.


I would become a famous writer and write about their cruelty. When their exploits were made public... they would be fired from their jobs, their spouses would divorce them, and they would have acne.


Obviously, it didn't quite work out like that. I'm a teacher. And Lord help me... I'm back in the seventh and eighth grade, and I'm all grown up. I watch students cut each other down in a chain of events. I know that they all feel like they're the one whose picked on at some time or another. Not all bullies know they are a bully.

In the past few years, I've come across past bullies. They've come up to me with their eyes lowered.

Every time, they've said "I was such an ass in high school."

This is what I decided to say;

"Really? I don't remember."

Sometimes they believe me and breathe a sigh of relief and give me a big hug.

Sometimes, they don't believe, and they smile at me, wink, and give a big me a big hug.

Revenge is bitter.


Grudges steal life.

Forgiveness is golden.

Shiny, Happy People

This week, I showed some of my class periods the new video I downloaded from Itunes. "Shiny Happy People" by REM. I couldn't find the real video to embed, so I found "Furry Happy Monsters" on here!!

Some of the students got up and danced. Some of the students sat in their desks mortified at the music choice of their teacher. Some of the students were mortified.

"Mrs. Aakhus, this song is creepy."

"Look! Mrs. Aakhus... how can this song be happy when they're making that old man do all the work in the background." (Of course, you don't see this on this video... but on the real REM video.)

"Mrs. Aakhus... look that one guy was a unibrow."

Most of the students liked the girl from the B52s.

I tried to explain that this song is ironic.

"What?"

This song's title comes from an old Chinese propaganda poster "Shiny Happy People' REM used this slogan as their song after Tiananmen Square in 1989.

Now, I just have to explain what happened in Tiananmen Square.

My day of the Arts

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After the fabulous win of our fabulous Fosston girl, I brought the other student to Stephen, Mn where he competed with his schoolmates in One Act Plays. I had only been in the car for five hours at that point, but after I dropped him off, I figured I needed to go home and see Jbird and the girls. This was my life being torn between my the students at school and my family at home. I realized I needed to be at home. I missed them.

I drove home listening to whatever station I wanted to and thought about students and their dreams. I thought about my daughters and their dreams.

I thought about my dreams and how they've all come true.

Poetry Out Loud - That girl is going to STATE!!!

It ended up I was in charge of bringing our young hopefuls to the regional contest. I left Jbird in charge of the children and headed out to Fosston to pick up the suburban. I was excited because not only was I going to bring the students for Poetry Out Loud, but I was now a MINI BUS DRIVER. Hello! AMAZING! *All week I prepared for this event by making sure I was a legal MINI BUS DRIVER.* I am now able to legally transport your students in mini van, suburban, or MINI BUS - or the short bus as we used to call it when I was a kid.

As I approached the bus barn, I felt tingly because I was driving a car nicer than my minivan. I started the suburban and scraped the windows to be sure we had a secure view on our drive. I drove the suburban to the high school and round up the school champions. I took the key out and ran into the school to get a bottle of water. You know- because I DON"T drink much Diet Coke anymore.

We buckled ourselves in. I put the key in. The suburban started. The suburban stopped. Was it in park? Yes it was. I couldn't figure it out. I ran back into the school where we (Fosston) were hosting an elementary basketball tournament. This had never happened before.

What to do?

What to do?

I looked at my young innocents faces.

"Did any of you drive here?"

"I did, but I can't drive my car to Bemidji." One student offered.

"That's O.K." I said wiping the sweat off my brow. "We will take my 1998 Chrysler Mini Van.... But we'll need you to get us to the bus barn."

We squished ourselves into his little pickup... *uh hmmmm... yeah.* and reached my mini van. It was still warm. Off we flew.... onward to Bemidji State University.- Our destination.

We giggled along the way and hooped and hollered when we reached dips and bumps... "YEE HAW!" That was field trip Mrs. Aakhus style.

When we reached Bemdji, I found the building. I just didn't know how to get to it. Where to park? The kids were nervous to search on their own. They needed me. I found a place somewhere in the middle of a construction site. And we ran. Ran like the wind I'm telling you.

I told them the name of the building. "Hobson Memorial Something," and we ran from building to building looking for the place to be.

Finally, we found the building. We ran inside. There were signs pointing the way.

POETRY OUT LOUD it stated by a stair case. OK... but were we supposed to go up or down?

One student went up. One went down. We found our way out a door. The sign pointed to another building? Our eager student ran ahead.

Hooray!

We found it.

We were where we were supposed to be.

The students checked in while I visited with the organizers. I could have hugged them. I was so thrilled to be there. I found out the emcee for the morning was none other than Will Weaver. Hello! AMAZING ZING ZING.

I sat in the back seat. I was just as nervous for the program to start as the kids.

And it began.

All of the students were amazing. The poems came alive for me. Again... I was impressed. Will Weaver was extraordinary. He made sure to note that the day was about these students' accomplishments and not about his. Impressive....

Poem after poem I was dazzled, but I can't lie to you. I'm biased. I had a feeling that one of my students would win. And she did. The cheerleader. The volleyball player. The goofiest member of the senior class. Also, one of the classiest kids I've ever met. I held hands with her mom in the back row. When we realized she was the winner, we hugged and cried.

That girl is going to state.