A Poetry Month Coloring Book Discovered!

While combing the stacks at one of my alternate comic book shopping locations I came across a coloring book, which is apparently based upon a popular children's title, from Arcana Publishing, A Cat Named Haiku. Written by Mark Poulton and illustrated by Dexter Weeks, the small (24 pages) book cost only $2.95, and as suggested by the genre, consists of simple wordless pictures of a cat, presumably named Haiku, engaged in silly cat-like activities.

At the time that I initially saw is coloring book, I was a little cash-strapped (validating buying so many comic books is difficult enough--explaining the purchase of a coloring book to my wife might not be so easy), so I did not purchase it, a decision I now regret.

The source material, with the same title, on which the coloring book is based chronicles Haiku's antics in the eponymous three line poetry--as a fan of the form (as well as its variations) I will be ordering have ordered from my local comic shop!

Haiku

Prattling ice pellets
pool on hushed windshield glass--
spring sleet soon wiped clean.

Poetry Found?

Do you see it? I didn't.

A celebration of National Poetry Month is in full swing at school. Between prepping the "release" of our Hallway Haiku Project signage after next week's Spring Break, and working on individual American sentences (that will later be combined into collaborative poems), one of the students in my Advanced Placement class made an interesting observation that further illustrated my premise for students that poetry really is everywhere. As trite as it may sound the exchange also created a "teachable moment," (groan!) during which some previously unknown (and truly "nice to know" in nature) information could be shared with my class.

As I circulated around the classroom offering assistance with syllable counting and image shaping, one lad prompted me to look carefully at the recently hung writing framework signage in the front of our classroom. The air was ripe with discussion and consideration of a variety of haiku formats, as well as "found poetry" (a form I explained to students--who had oddly never been exposed to it--by explaining about the 5-7-5 hand washing reminder I came across in the hospital men's room years ago), so it makes sense that the sharpest students would begin to apply their poetic mindset to their surroundings... and once again I was shown that the student quickly becomes the master.

Upon first glance at the aforementioned signage, I sincerely had little idea what I was intended to observe in the poster. "What does that sign look like?" the student prompted me once again.

Despite my having actually having been part of the committee that generated it, I had failed to notice (or clearly see) what my student had. Pointing to it again, he revealed, "It's got seventeen syllables like a haiku."

After congratulating the student for innately processing the syllable count (without clapping it) of he signage around him, I wondered aloud with the class whether or not that though the phrase "All evidence must be/supported with/details and analysis"  did indeed meet the strict syllable count requirement learned since kindergarten about what a haiku is... but was that enough to label it a haiku poem? Lacking a kigo or cutting word (or punctuation), it seemed clear that it was not a haiku in the strictest sense, but could it be presented as such with some syntax rearrangement or punctuation? The syllables (and words) could easily be set in a haiku 5-7-5 format, thusly:

All evidence must (5)
be supported with details (7)
and analysis. (5)

While a traditional image is absent, this found poem might better fit under the "heading" of a senyru rather than haiku (senryū is a Japanese form of short poetry similar to haiku in construction that tends to be about human foibles rather than nature, and are often cynical or darkly humorous than the more  serious haiku. Senryū also do not include a  cutting word, and do not generally include a kigo, or season word.) There are few things more cynically received than a new writing framework shared to a group of educators comfortable with an existing state.

Now, that's getting really Zen...

First Haiga of NPM

Backyard, yesterday afternoon (3/31/12).

Under fragile pine,
shrewd rabbit nibbles damp grass
one blade at a time.

It's National Poetry Month, so it's as good a time as nay to get back on the haiga (haiku + image, in my case, photographs). The wonderful thing about haiku is that whether what you generate is "good" or "bad" there is always something (a moment) "around" one to offer worthy inspiration. Take, for example, the rabbit my wife and (mostly) I have been keeping an eye on for the past day.

While it has been entertaining the past few days watching the rabbit lay about our backyard avoiding the dog, my wife reminds me that it might not be quite so "fun" when the rabbit and his pals are eating away at our small vegetable garden in a few months.

At worst, though, the experience and frustration of warding off hungry bunnies it will supply fodder for a series of haiga/haiku. At best, they'll (the poems) actually be "good."

Piecing Together The Hallway Haiku Project

While it has been a few weeks since I first posted regarding the Hallway Haiku Project my English 11 classes and I had been involved in, I have not forgotten about them. To their credit, as you'll read, neither have the students. Prior to our ten day Winter Recess, which ended today, the classes and I had continued honing our "products," ultimately selecting a "final four" of sorts: the four haiku from a total of roughly 240 generated by the classes, which represented (given specific criteria) what we had hoped to communicate to the school as a whole

As anyone who is involved in the democratic process on any level will attest, the "winner" is not always the "best," and with this in mind, prior to the break we took the activity to the next level, from both the linguistic to the visual, and from the group to the personal. I hoped to give them a chance to work with both the final four, like the one to the left ("Life is a puzzle,/pieces not always fitting,/ sometimes that's better."), as well as one of their own haiku which had not been selected to move on in our "Haiku Survivor" contest, but to them had a kernel of merit worth revisiting.

The task was as follows: each student was assigned one of the four (4) hallway haiku that had made the cut based on individual group (hello, oxymoron!) consensus. With the haiku as a part of the visual, students then had to use either Microsoft Publisher or Word, to draft a visual representation to go along with the assigned haiku. The result would be a hallway sign of sorts, communicating on both linguistic and visual levels. Students were told that the visuals, or signs, should be easily interpreted.

The follow-up activity was to then revise (if necessary) one of their haiku and do the same for that. In the case of both the finalists and their own haiku I invited students to play with punctuation use (dashes, commas, periods) to see if they could tweak the meaning of lines by doing so.

The results were even better than expected on both fronts. The graphics developed by the students represented a wide range of interpretations and it was interesting to see what each brought to the visual table when considering a common series of words, in this case a haiku. As one could fairly expect, there were common motifs or symbols employed, especially when the haiku itself suggested one (such as the puzzle to the upper left). It was also nice to see the ownership not only the works produced collaboratively with an unnamed poet, but with the pieces they were given the opportunity to revisit.

This morning in class, one student inquired as to whether or not we would be returning to the hallway haiku project now that break had concluded, and actually get to hang some of the haiku up in the hallway. As I told her, that is the next step...

Hallway Haiku Project: Process & Model

A few weeks ago on Facebook my "friend" Scott Simon of NPR posted a story about his interview with activist/artist John Morse entitled Haiku Traffic Signs Bring Poetry To NYC Streets. Fascinated by the combination of poetry and visual representation, I set about developing a series of relatively quick activities I could work through with my Advanced Placement students. The intent was to have the activities culminate in the development of Hallway Haiku signs that could (depending on the quality of the final product) be posted throughout our school building--or at he very least the classroom.

First students were asked to write in their Writing journals about issues of importance to high school students and to suggest advice to be shared with peers in addressing these issues. This was followed by a quick consideration of the elements of classic haiku through the reading and analysis of traditional examples of the form written by form luminaries like Basho.
The following class, we took both activities and synthesized them into the writing of re-purposed haiku (really more of a senyru as the kigo, or seasonal word was unnecessary) intended to both evoke an image and to communicate a message or idea of value to the student's peers (high schoolers). This resulted in roughly 240 individual haiku (four by each of the sixty students).

The next two classes we dedicated time for peer reviewing and consensus building the 240 down to five. These will next be assigned to students for both revision (some punctuation placement may yield different meanings) and development of accompanying visuals. I still think some better options have been passed up via our student group consensus building, so I may allow a way for previously "rejected" finalists to find their way back in (sort of a poetry Redemption Island).

This morning I spent a little time (okay, really about an hour), revising a previously submitted, and ultimately rejected, draft with the purpose of using it to make a sample sign for sharing in class on Tuesday. The original hallway haiku was as follows: Urgent pencil strokes/tap-tap-tap of lead like rain,/still thoughts pool. This was actually an "exemplar" that had made it through but did NOT meet the 5-7-5 criteria, and so I set about revising it to meet the traditional form. I also realized that there really isn't lead in pencils anymore, so I sought to take that into consideration while playing with the language. A short time later I came up with: Shhh! Urgent pencils/move, tappety-tap of tips/like rain—still thoughts pool. I'm a fan of onomatopoeia and alliteration so figured "what the hey." While students will have Microsoft Publisher at their disposal at school, I was limited to Microsoft Word and online free clip art to make my model, posted to the left.

This week, we will proceed to the next phase and see what develops...

Haiku in the Machine

Accepting the convenience of modern technology, the author succumbs to the use of his cellphone to "write."

This past Thursday at practice, while the girls team was completing their dynamic stretching/form drills, I was struck by an image. While the image itself was not "earth shattering," I thought enough of it to write it down. Normally, I carry a small spiral bound notebook in my breast pocket, or in the front of my hoodie, for just such occasions, but on that day I left it at home on my desk. Reaching my hand in my pocket, I realized that I had my cell phone. It was then that it occurred to me (as it has to 10 gazillion other folks already) that there might be a notepad function on the fun that I could use and--wallah!--there was.

Though it was just a very rough draft, and something that though I reworked it for about 30 minutes on the word-processor when I returned home after practice (and eventually posted in a from closer to it's orgginal one on my Twitter feed to the right of this post), I had conflicting feelings about the process. The experience of using my cellphone to do this was both satisfying (quick, easy, no worry about poor handwriting) and sad, mostly because I had been a proponent of not losing the skill of using "manual" tech in favor of easy electronic ones.

I suppose you can now count me among those hypocritical psuedo-luddites who both decry modern technology while simultaneously embracing the parts of it that ease their own lives.