A usual writing lesson finds me and my partner teacher splitting duties between who goes table to table helping the kids and who stands at the front writing the words the kids can’t spell on the board.
Inevitably at the end of the lesson the board is covered in random words written in random spots and occasionally I find that reading them out loud makes them sound like surreal poetry.
Today’s lesson ended with:
Admittedly its gibberish but it always makes me think of one of those jazz poetry slams you see on TV with a dude in a black turtle neck and beret chain smoking unfiltered cigarettes while hipsters snap their fingers at him.
One we had last week was simply:
And I really liked that.