Amy brought in a wonderful poem by Freda Quenneville, "Mother's Biscuits," and walked us through a wonderful lesson that included a shared and choral reading of the poem, creating a T-chart on our noticings and response, creating a list of foods that we have emotional ties to, and then giving us time to talk, write, and share with one another.
Some of the writing we shared together included a haiku by Ureka entitled "Help:"
Help!
If you taste momma's
Jiffy cornbread dressing you'll
sho nuf hurt yourself!
And last Diane shared a piece about her experience with biscuits, entitled "Those Biscuit Holes":
Few people know the true art of drilling biscuit holes.
Warm, palm-sized biscuits,
a sticky can of Cane Patch syrup,
an index finger for a drill—
and a jeweler’s precision as he cuts into an oil well—
in reverse—
for biscuit holes come first
before the mother load of syrup fills the cache.
The slow,
slow
pouring
of the w a t e r y t h i n black nectar
is crucial for success.
The smiling syrup at the hole’s precipice
proclaims the child’s lip-licking, ephemeral victory
of a perfectly drilled
ready-to-eat
syrup biscuit.
After all this writing and talking about biscuits, I have to admit I stopped off at KFC on my way home and got a biscuit!
-Written by Jennifer L. Wilson
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