Thursday, September 24, 2009

Early Genius

Sometimes budding genius can be a little hard to recognize. The parent of one of my favorite young family members (the person in question is in first grade) received a call from the school expressing concern over this poem which was written in response to a writing prompt about Fall.



(Oh, does the term "writing prompt" bother anyone else? What the fuck is a "writing prompt"?? Sounds like someone standing behind me with a sharp stick, ready to jab if my fingers slow down on the keyboard. Which might not be a bad thing and all...but it deeply disturbs me that my kids knew the term "writing prompt" practically before they could hold a pencil. Whatever happened to "write a poem" or "write a story"...our school system's writing program seems designed to discourage as many kids as possible from writing - and reading, for that matter. But maybe I'm just bitter because my kids routinely score 1's and 2's out of 5 for their "response to literature," another term I abhor. Um, how about "did you like the book, kids? why?" Oh, but I digress.)

- - - -
FALL

Fall the season of death
Oh! Those acorns and leaves falling on your head
Trees.
Maple trees and others chopped down on your head.
The season of death.

Fall.
- - - -

Oh, I read this with glee! Another member of the clan carries the tainted blood, it seems...the boy's dad went on to explain that the drawing accompanying the poem had a person with x'd-out eyes under a falling tree that had just been chewed down by a beaver. And I, reading too quickly, thought it said that the person's eyes "had been chewed out by a beaver." Which would have been sooooo cool and all, but the kid *is* only six - give him time, my friends, give him time....

3 comments:

Laura Benedict said...

Bengal (9) is always saying ostensibly inappropriate death-related things in public regarding people's heads getting blown/chewed/shot off. It's only aggravating when we're in airports.

As we left school today, half his class was throwing pebbles into the path of the arriving minivans. Bengal shouted, "Stop throwing those! You want to break somebody's windshield and knock their eyeballs into the street?!"

I love my boy.

Awesome poem. Deliciously creepy, and kind of true.

Greg Bardsley said...

Damn fine piece of writing, if I say so. ... Nothing like school to bring creatives down. Too often, school is all about writing inside the box.

Corey Wilde said...

Hehehe, I love this kid's work already.

Schools and society in general are just hell bent on cramming kids into little boxes and cranking them down the conveyor belt. Factory people.