I dressed in basic black today for our 3rd grade Poetry Slam. My students have been writing poetry for a couple of weeks. Today, each student chose one poem to share with their classmates.
We went to the theater, sat in comfy chairs grouped around tables, dimmed the lights, and listened as each child shared a poem at the open mic. Some full of similes and metaphors, some narrative, some following formulas, some metered and rhymed.
At each table, the children chose a comment, Awesome Adjectives, Radiant Reading, Jazzy Jingle... slathered that slip of paper with glue, and sent a member of the group to slam the comment onto that child's Slam Sheet, while announcing their choice into the microphone. Six groups, 24 poets, one hour. A celebration of language. I'm still smiling.
I wore these panda earrings, black and white, to serve as master of ceremonies. I thought about the Eats, Shoots and Leaves panda/punctuation joke. Too much to explain. We only had an hour.
My daughter Kathe made these shrinky dinks for me 8 or 10 years ago before I had any idea I might ever lead a 3rd grade Poetry Slam. They were perfect.