Earth Day

INTRODUCTION
In 1970 Senator Gaylord Nelson organized the first Earth Day in the United States on April 22nd as a time to learn about our environment. The movement built from that day to clean up our nation’s water, to reduce smog in the air and finally to begin to protect our atmosphere.

Read this poem outdoors or at least with open windows if possible to encourage thinking about the world outside human made structures.

POEM
JUST WHEN I THOUGHT
By Anna Grossnickle Hines

It was a great day for clouds
And I wanted to tell someone.
So I said it
a couple of times,
And just when I thought
No one was listening
A raindrop fell
On me.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Hines, Anna Grossnickle. 2001. PIECES: A YEAR IN POEMS AND QUILTS. New York: Greenwillow Books. ISBN 0688169643

EXTENSION
Have each person choose a cloud to sketch. Under the sketch have them list words that popped into their heads as they viewed their cloud. They may be descriptive, scientific or purely fantastic. Encourage them to see if the lists suggest a poem about the cloud.

Photo courtesy of http://images.google.com/.

Arbor Day

INTRODUCTION
The first Arbor Day was held in Nebraska on April 10, 1872, when a man named Julius Sterling Morton proposed that a special day be set aside dedicated to tree planting and increasing awareness of the importance of trees. Nebraska's first Arbor Day was an amazing success. More than one million trees were planted. Nebraska now celebrates Arbor Day on the last Friday of April. States have their own Arbor days based on their climates. As we are increasingly aware of the importance of plants in the life of our planet, Arbor Day has become more widely recognized.

POEM

WIND IN THE PINES
By Joseph Bruchac

So soft at first,
just the hint
of sighing
then, as the boughs
and the long soft needles,
lend it a voice,
and the ripples spread
across the pond,
the wind starts to sing.

The pines quiver and bend,
moved by that long breath
that has flowed down the valleys,
lifted over the hills,
whistling, whispering
a chorus that fills the air around us
as the whole forest
bows and dances.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bruchac, Jospeh. 2003. ABOVE THE LINE: NEW POEMS. Alburquerque, NM: West End Press. ISBN 0970534485

EXTENSION
Do the reading, discussion and activities outside near or under a tree. Take some quiet time to listen to the leaves, smell the air, feel the ground. Talk about the value of trees – photosynthesis, habitat, food source, etc.

Discuss the poem’s personification of the wind as breathing, whispering. Talk about the quietness of the poem.

Encourage the students to listen quietly to the nearby trees and invite them to write about this experience.

Photo courtesy of http://images.google.com/.

Paul Revere's Ride

INTRODUCTION
On April 18, 1775, Paul Revere rode a borrowed horse through the Massachusetts countryside in order to warn leaders of the American Revolution, Samuel Adams and John Hancock, that British troops were on their way to arrest them. He continued on—warning Minute Men that the British were marching to capture the arms stored by the New Englanders. This ensuing battle sparked the American Revolution.

Eighty five years later, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow immortalized Revere’s ride in his poem.

POEM

Paul Revere’s Ride
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower, as a signal light,
--One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country-folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison-bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the somber rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,
--By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,
--A line of black, that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now gazed on the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and somber and still.

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!
A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock,
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest.
In the books you have read,
How the British regulars fired and fled,
--How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,
-- A cry of defiance and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed,
And the midnight-message of Paul Revere.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Felleman, Hazel, ed. 1936. THE BEST LOVED POEMS OF THE AMERICAN PEOPLE. New York: Doubleday and Co. ISBN 0385000197

EXTENSION
What events in history are worth immortalizing? Try to generate a list of important, world changing events in politics/government, the arts, science or sports. How might they present the events importance—in a poem, as a play, in a novel or song? Divide into groups and have each group find a way to describe one important event.

Photo courtesy of http://images.google.com/.

Maya Angelou's Birthday, April 4th

INTRODUCTION
Maya Angelou was born on April 4, 1928. Although she had a variety of jobs, such as fry cook, dancer, actress and reporter, she is known for her Pulitzer Prize winning writing which includes poetry, novels and autobiographies. Maya Angelou's life was not easy. As an African American growing up in the Great Depression, she had enormous obstacles that may have led to this poem.

POEM

Life Doesn’t Frighten Me
By Maya Angelou

Life Doesn’t Frighten Me
Shadows on the wall
Noises down the hall
Life doesn’t frighten me at all

Bad dogs barking loud
Big ghosts in a cloud
Life doesn’t frighten me at all

Mean old Mother Goose
Lions on the loose
They don’t frighten me at all

Dragons breathing flame
On my counterpane
That doesn’t frighten me at all.

I go boo
Make them shoo
I make fun
Way they run
I won’t cry
So they fly
I just smile
They go wild

Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

Tough guys fight
All alone at night
Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

Panthers in the park
Strangers in the dark
No, they don’t frighten me at all.

That new classroom where
Boys all pull my hair
(Kissy little girls
With their hair in curls)
They don’t frighten me at all.

Don’t show me frogs and snakes
And listen for my scream,
If I’m afraid at all
It’s only in my dreams.

I’ve got a magic charm
That I keep up my sleeve
I can walk the ocean floor
And never have to breathe.

Life doesn’t frighten me at all
Not at all
Not at all.

Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Angelou, Maya. 1993. LIFE DOESN’T FRIGHTEN ME. New York: Harry N. Abrams. ISBN 1556702884

EXTENSION
The beginning verses of “Life Doesn’t Frighten Me at All” are all rhyming couplets, followed by the sentence refrain, “Life doesn’t frighten me at all.” Begin working with a partner on a couplet about something a teenager fears, and work to make it rhyme. Try to find or draw an illustration that captures the mood of the couplet. Then we will bind the pages together in a picture poetry book for class.

Photo courtesy of http://images.google.com/.

Robert Frost's Birthday

INTRODUCTION

Robert Frost is usually considered America’s most beloved poet. Born on March 26 in 1874, his poems are often set in rural New England and capture the colloquial speech of his time. Yet the poems manage to examine complex social questions. Frost won four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry and read one of his poems aloud at Kennedy’s presidential inauguration.

This Frost poem appeals to teenagers and to old people. As you listen try to decide why.
Have you ever felt that there is no one, no other person in the world, like you? It’s kind of a lonely feeling. There is no one who feels like you do, no one who can even understand what it feels like to be you? Have you had these feelings? What do you do with them? Think about that as you hear the poem. Know that the word ‘diverged’ means ‘split apart from each other.’

POEM
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth:

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should every come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh,
Somewhere ages and ages hence;
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
AMERICAN POETRY: THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, VOL. 1 2000. New York: Library of America. ISBN 1883011779

EXTENSION
Have a discussion based on these questions. What are you thinking? What parts do you like? What is the ‘difference’ the poet refers to in the last line?

What do you notice about how the poem is crafted? Write down one thing that you noticed about the rhyme, rhythm, figurative language, or images.

How can a teenager and an old librarian both get meaning from this poem?

Photo courtesy of

Civil Rights March in Selma

INTRODUCTION
During the third week of March, in 1965, three thousand people began a march for Civil Rights in Selma, Alabama, that grew to 25,000 people by the time they arrived in Montgomery, Alabama. I would like to share two short poems, about two African American women whose rights were denied during their lifetimes. These women created their own success in spite of being denied their basic rights in America. Even the march itself was inspired by a woman, Rosa Parks, who refused to give up her seat on the bus to a white man.

Some of you have given up trying to be successful in school. I see it in your attitudes. You think your circumstances are so hard that you will not be able to be successful. But Madam C. J. Walker was born of parents who were slaves until the Civil War freed them, and they died of yellow fever when she was seven. She married at 14, but her husband died by the time she was twenty. Still she managed to succeed. She invented and sold hair products for black women, eventually becoming the first female African American millionaire.

POEM
THE MILLIONAIRE
By Carole Boston Weatherford

All Girls She left the parched fields of the South
Girl 1 but still she lived from hand to mouth,
Girl 2 worked at a scrub board in blazing heat,
washing laundry to make ends meet.

All Girls Till dreams bid her to brew her potions,
Girl 3 Madam’s line of oils and lotions.
Girl 4 She filled glass jars on the kitchen floor
and sold her wares from door to door.

All Girls Her factory ran round the clock,
Girl 1 filling orders for beauty shops:
All Girls creams for skin and oils for hair.
Girl 2 Call her Madam—Millionaire.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Weatherford, Carole Boston. 2002. REMEMBER THE BRIDGE: POEMS OF A PEOPLE. New York: Philomel Books. ISBN 0399237267


EXTENSION
After reading this poem aloud, assign parts and read it again as a group before starting a discussion.
What if you lived during this time when neither women nor African Americans had many rights? Make a list of the things that are obstacles to you. List the reasons why you believe you are have not been more successful. What gets in your way? Can you think of anything you can do to help to solve one of your problems? Write them down to use as ideas for additional writing at another time.

Photo courtesy of http://images.google.com/.

First Color Television Broadcast

INTRODUCTION
On March 27, 1955, the first coast-to-coast color television broadcast was transmitted. Take a minute to think about how we watch TV. Do you have a favorite snack you like to eat while you watch? What about your favorite TV shows? Does everyone’s family own a TV?

POEM
Jimmy Jet and His TV Set
by Shel Silverstein

I’ll tell you the story of Jimmy Jet-
And you know what I tell you is true.
He loved to watch his TV set
Almost as much as you.

He watched all day, he watched all night
Till he grew pale and lean,
From “The Early Show” to “The Late Late Show”
And all the shows between.

He watched till his eyes were frozen wide,
And his bottom grew into his chair.
And his chin turned into a tuning dial,
And antennae grew out of his hair.

And his brains turned into TV tubes,
And his face to a TV screen.
And two knobs saying “VERT.” and “HORIZ.”
Grew where his ears had been.

And he grew a plug that looked like a tail
So we plugged in little Jim.
And now instead of him watching TV
We all sit around and watch him.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Silverstein, S. (2004). WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS: THE POEMS AND DRAWINGS OF SHEL SILVERSTEIN. New York: HarperCollins. ISBN 0060572345

EXTENSION
Bring a large cardboard box, and with the students’ help, turn it into a television complete with a large cut-out window simulating the screen. Let them take turns “being on TV” and reading their favorite part of this or another poem.

Photo courtesy of http://images.google.com/.