Back row (left to right): Cecilia, Emma, Keegan
Middle row: Wai-Kirn, Lukas, Jackson, Sam
Front row: Leila, Bridget
This piece was based images of "Flights of Fancy". Cecilia chose a photo of a small boy standing on a rock precise overlooking a castle in through the clouds in the distance.
The flying castle is the dream that every kid has inside. But once kids forget, or give up their dreams, it will disappear. So every kid should have a night to make their own dreams come true.
For this assignment the students were asked to personify an emotion:
My sadness was made by horror and anger melted together. I found my sadness in a house filled with dust and dirt. My sadness can blow away happiness and hope. If I lost my sadness I would not look anywhere, for I could regain my Happiness and hope.
For this assignment the class worked up a list of things that “fly” and the students choose one of the those to write about:
Push on the ground
Light on ice
Are they crazy? No
Right on the ball
Easy, not really
Reaching, paw after paw
Light flying, not light walking
Yield, no way
I fall through the air like a girl in a ballet dress flying off a cliff—imagine a woosh of pink, and a scream as high-pitched as a dolphin squeak!
For this assignment the students used personification to present their names, and themselves:
My name is made from flowers I’m not allergic to.
I found my name floating in the sky of blue.
If I lost my name I would look in a giraffe’s throat,
Or maybe on a boat;
I might even look in a rootbeer float.
My name is made from my history, all mixed and mashed into a stew pot. My name can be short or long, it can defeat any obstacle in its way.
My name is Wai-Kirn as you may know. If it were lost I would know. I would search the seas from home to yonder grand. I’d find it somewhere in the sand.
For this assignment the students were given the prompt, “This morning I packed my backpack, and instead of going to school, I hit the open road.” They were asked to complete the story:
The Grim Tale of Me
The wind blew in my face as Marty, Thompson, and I flew down the highway on our bikes. We could see cars and giant buildings. It felt good. We peered around the all the streets, but they didn’t look normal, they looked small. It felt as if I were the king of the world, and the streets were my minions.
This was a series of answers to questions about what it may be like for a bee to fly, and worked into a poem:
Like walking is to humans.
Hard winding danger.
The wind and the buzzing of my wings.