Name:Ashton Seip
Subject: 9th Grade Mississippi Studies
Period:4th
Date: June 24, 2009 – Wednesday
Approximate Time: 50 minutes
Mississippi Artists Project Work Period
Objectives:
- TSW identify the characteristics and purposes of several different types of poetry. TSW finish her Mississippi Artist ProjectDOK 1, 2, 3.
Materials:
Books, overhead, transparencies.
Do Now:
Using the grading rubric you were given on Tuesday, list the areas in which you will be graded on the Mississippi Artists Project.
Set:
TTW ask the student why people write poetry. What is its purpose? How does she know?
Procedures:
- Do Now. (1 min.)
- Set. (1 min.)
- TSW take notes on several types of poetry from the overhead and complete a worksheet based on those notes (5 min).
- TTW discuss the purpose of poetry and how that ties into what the student has done while completing the Mississippi Artist Project (5 min).
- TSW complete a worksheet as a part of the MAP (7 min).
- TSW list what she has accomplished thus far on a piece of paper that the teacher will pick up for a daily grade (1 min).
- TSW describe what she plans to do on her project during this work period on a piece of paper that the teacher will pick up for a daily grade at the end of the class period (1 min).
- TSW finish her project during the remaining class time (25min).
- Close (3min).
Closure:
TTW ask the student how she plans to present the project, noting the importance of her volume, standing confidently and other important aspects of public speaking.
Assessment/Evaluation:
Informal: TTW observe the student’s work during the period. TSW list what she has accomplished thus far on a piece of paper that the teacher will pick up for a daily grade. TSW describe what she plans to do on her project during this period on a piece of paper that the teacher will pick up for a daily grade.
Formal: TSW present the final project on Wednesday, June 24, 2009, during 2nd period for a project grade.
Name: ______Date: ______Class: ______
MISSISSIPPI ARTIST PROJECT, POETRY NOTES
Directions: Fill in the blanks using the notes the teacher has on the overhead. Write the title and author of a poem that is an example for each term using the sheet of examples the teacher gave you. These definitions will be important for a later assignment.
Blank Verse: a poem or a line in a poem that is ______; however, these poems still have a set ______.
Example:
Couplet: rhyming stanzas made up of ______lines.
Example:
Free Verse: poems written in either rhyme or unrhymed lines that have no set fixed ______.
Example:
Haiku: a Japanese poem composed of three unrhymed lines of ______, ______, ______syllables.
Example:
Lyric: expresses the ______and ______of the poet.
Example:
Rhyme:matching of final ______or ______sounds in two or more words.
Example:
Rhythm: recurrence of ______or ______in lines of verse.
Example: “Same in Blues” by Langston Hughes, accented words and syllables are underlined.
I said to my baby,
Baby take it slow....
Lulu said to Leonard
I want a diamond ring
Name: ______Date: ______Class: ______
MISSISSIPPI ARTIST PROJECT, POETRY EXAMPLES
Ex-Basketball Player- John Updike
Blank Verse
Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,
Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off
Before it has a chance to go two blocks,
At ColonelMcComskyPlaza. Berth’s Garage
Is on the corner facing west, and there,
Most days, you'll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out.
Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps—
Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,
Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.
One’s nostrils are two S’s, and his eyes
An E and O. And one is squat, without
A head at all—more of a football type.
Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards.
He was good: in fact, the best. In ’46
He bucketed three hundred ninety points,
A county record still. The ball loved Flick.
I saw him rack up thirty-eight or forty
In one home game. His hands were like wild birds.
He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,
Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while,
As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,
But most of us remember anyway.
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench.
It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though.
Off work, he hangs around Mae’s Luncheonette.
Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,
Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.
Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods
Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers
Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.
GRENADA MARCH #107- Bruce Hartford
Echoing songs on the square
White breath in cold night air
Black shadows, two by two
Marching strong, me and you.
"Ohhh freedom, ohhhh freedom
ohhhh freedom over me...."
Beneath a lonely street light
Children singing out at night.
The mobs are gone, for this time
And tension eases down the line.
"...and before I'll be a slave
I'll be buried in my grave
and go home to my Lord
and be free-oh and be free..."
Standing silent round the square
Troopers watch with hard, cold stare.
"Niggers on the march again.
Damn! Will they never end?"
"...No more gassings, no more beatings
no more jailings, over me..."
Around, around, the square we stride
Cold air filled with freedom's pride.
We'll keep marching side by side
'till freedom gates are opened wide.
"...and before I'll be a slave
I'll be buried in my grave
and go home to my Lord
and be free-oh and be free."
It's quite on the square again
As one-oh-seven comes to end.
Proud, we march down Pearl Street
Back to church where we meet.
MISSISSIPPI VOTER RALLY- Bruce Hartford
Free Verse
Hot, drippy evening,
red & yellow bars of neon light.
A crowd of dark shadows
defiantly stand in the Mississippi night.
Car roof buckles under the weight
of silhouetted shadows against the neon.
Courage and song rise up from
the surrounding sea of unseen folk
engulfing us like a warm friendly ocean.
Helmets advance out of the dark
fearsome, their long false faces
hideous masks of death.
A shouted command, choking fumes,
explosions,
screams,
terror.
Can't breath, can't see.
The warm ocean scatters like
spilled quicksilver.
Blindly running, blindly escaping.
Clubs thud against fragile flesh
as helmets leap out of the night,
out of the agonizing blinding fog
to fall on helpless innocence.
Quite, echoing quite,
the damp Mississippi night closes in
on homes strangely dark.
Black shadows peer from dark windows
as the Mars-men patrol their temporarily conquered territory,
boots echoing off stony-faced homes.
Inside, in the dark, human blast furnaces
forge inner resolve.
Hammers of anger pounding out determination,
tomorrow...tomorrow..tomorrow...
“Baseball”- Yotsuya Rya
Haiku
until raised to Heaven
I’ll go to fields of green
carrying my glove.
Refugee in America-Langston Hughes
There are words like Freedom
Sweet and wonderful to say.
On my heart-strings freedom sings
All day everyday.
There are words like Liberty
That almost make me cry.
If you had known what I knew
You would know why.