Bellringer Oct 22 – Periods 1 and 3

Write the date and the question.What do teenagers fantasize about

doing when they are older?Keep it clean you little wisenheimers!

If you do not have your essay completed with you NOW, you must complete a “pink slip.” They are grey and on the front book shelf.

Bellringer 10/21-10/22You have your “Through the Tunnel” essay due today. Assemble your submission packet.

1. Put your good final copy on top. 2. Then your revisions/rough draft.3. Then your graphic organizer4. Then your revisions directions with the scoring

guide facing out.

Read through the poem quickly.

Find, in the table of contents, the poem “Fifteen” by William Stafford.

(hint, look in the list on page xxxv which is the “selections by genre” list)

“Fifteen” by William Stafford

How does Stafford construct his theme on maturity and growing up?

What are some of the poetic devices you remember?

(Poetic devices are things that poets use and which sometimes are unique to poetry)

After Lunch Bellringer (period 5)Identify at least three poetic devices that

Stafford uses in his poem, “Fifteen”

◦Ex – Stafford uses enjambment in lines 1-4◦(NOW DON’T USE enjambment!)

Read the poem again.

Write down three questions you have about the poem.

(maybe about a certain word, phrase, stanza…)

South of the bridge on Seventeenth I found back of the willows one summer day a motorcycle with engine running as it lay on its side, ticking over slowly in the high grass. I was fifteen.

I admired all that pulsing gleam, the shiny flanks, the demure headlights fringed where it lay; I led it gently to the road and stood with that companion, ready and friendly. I was fifteen.

We could find the end of a road, meet the sky on out Seventeenth. I thought about hills, and patting the handle got back a confident opinion. On the bridge we indulged a forward feeling, a tremble. I was fifteen.

Thinking, back farther in the grass I found the owner, just coming to, where he had flipped over the rail. He had blood on his hand, was pale— I helped him walk to his machine. He ran his hand over it, called me good man, roared away.

I stood there, fifteen.

Group instructions:

In your groups, construct answers to each of your questions. If you have repeats, that’s okay.

Elect a “speaker of the group” – summarize for the class the questions and your responses.

Listen to each other’s responses as you will be constructing what the theme is based off of the class’ ideas.

Possible Themes? Poetic Devices Used

Write the response!

On the page with your individual questions, write a CSET which explains Stafford’s theme. (What is the message he is giving us about maturity and growing up – a theme is always more than about just this one poem and just this one kid)

After lunch bellringer (PERIOD 4)Consider – how is the speaker brought back

from his fantasy of riding the motorcycle (look in stanza 4!)

Did you remember to submit the responses for the “Rites of Passage” article? The four questions and article were in your packet. They are due today too.

Now you! Using the structure of the poem, you are

going to write a new poem about a different age. Be sure to keep the THEME the same or at least similar.

South of the bridge on Seventeenth I found back of the willows one summer day a motorcycle with engine running as it lay on its side, ticking over slowly in the high grass. I was fifteen.

I admired all that pulsing gleam, the shiny flanks, the demure headlights fringed where it lay; I led it gently to the road and stood with that companion, ready and friendly. I was fifteen.

We could find the end of a road, meet the sky on out Seventeenth. I thought about hills, and patting the handle got back a confident opinion. On the bridge we indulged a forward feeling, a tremble. I was fifteen.

Thinking, back farther in the grass I found the owner, just coming to, where he had flipped over the rail. He had blood on his hand, was pale— I helped him walk to his machine. He ran his hand over it, called me good man, roared away.

I stood there, fifteen.

“Ninety”In the nursing home cafeteria during lunch time, I gazed out the window at a group of school children runningand playing “Follow the Leader” in the distant meadow. I was ninety.

I loved their laughter and the way they ran in circlesand jumped and fell downand then got up again to run some more. They were having a lot of fun. I was ninety.

I could lead those childrenon a merry chase and play “Hide’n-Go-Seek”and tell stories just likeI did so many years ago.I want to do that again. I was ninety.

Turning away from the window at last, I foundthat my mashed potatoes were cold and hardand the gravy was lumpy. But, it was okay.I couldn’t finish them anyway because the nurse came up to me and said that lunch time was over andit was time for me to be wheeled back to my room.

I sat there, ninety.