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fandomhigh2016-09-08 12:25 am
hollywoostar) wrote in fandomhigh2016-09-08 12:25 am
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Learnin' with Mr. Peanutbutter, Thursday, period 1
"Oh captain, my captain!" Mr. Peanutbutter howled when the old fashioned school bell rang to start the class. Yes, actually quite literally howled. "Oh! Captain! My! Captain! This is the beginning of a very famous poem! You know it's very famous because it was used as a central theme in a very famous movie. Which just goes to show you: poetry, while seemingly silly and completely inconsequential, can actually have a big impact on society." He shrugged. "Or, well, it used to. That movie's pretty old. And the only lines from that poem I know are 'oh captain, my captain'. But it really probably isn't super important."
Mr. Peanutbutter pulled his chair around to the front of his desk and sat on it backwards (he'd been practicing -- it turned out it worked best when you had a chair without any arms on it!), leaning his forearms on the top.
"So let's talk about poetry today. As an adult with a successful career, a large house, and a beautiful wife, I have very little need for poetry in my life. But as teenagers, full of confusing hormones, looking forward at a ruined economy with nothing to show you what your future will look like but wildly popular dystopic YA fiction, poetry might mean a great deal to you. Perhaps you have a little journal you keep in your room where you write down all of your greatest worries in awkward meter. Maybe you wander around campus in between classes trying to find that eternally elusive rhyme for 'orange'. Poetry can be a great escape for the disaffected teenager, apparently. I don't really know; I was really popular as a child and everyone in my hometown looked and behaved exactly like I did. But this class isn't about me. It's about all of you."
He nodded empathetically at the students for a long, awkward moment, then stood up and went to the chalkboard.
That's right, not a whiteboard, an actual, old school, salt-of-the-earth, covered-in-still-vaguely-legible-'erased'-words-and-math-formulas chalkboard. We're not real sure where he got it.
"So what do we know about poetry? Well, first off, it rhymes." He wrote "rhymes" on the board. "Also, it does something I've heard referred to as 'scanning'." He added "scans". "I don't know what that is, but it seems to be important. And lastly, it's expressive." "Expresses" went up on the board, and the whole list -- of three things -- was underlined. "And for some reason, they're not songs, even though songs are clearly more fun. That's -- I think that's everything? Sure! Okay. So we're going to write poetry today! About something we really care about, like -- balls! Let's write poems about balls. I'm going to say it should be at leeeeeeeeeeeast . . . four lines. That rhyme. About balls. Take . . . twenty minutes." He tapped his piece of chalk against the base of his chin, leaving a little dusty streak in his fur, then nodded. "And then read them out loud!" Who needed lesson planning when you could make an assignment up on the fly?
"Oh, and just to let you know, I did not receive any notes from the producers about last week's episode. So let's keep up that good work! And Faith -- don't think I forgot about your homework assignment! I want to hear all about your five mile run last week. Now -- get poetring! Poetric? Poemish. Write poems!"
Mr. Peanutbutter pulled his chair around to the front of his desk and sat on it backwards (he'd been practicing -- it turned out it worked best when you had a chair without any arms on it!), leaning his forearms on the top.
"So let's talk about poetry today. As an adult with a successful career, a large house, and a beautiful wife, I have very little need for poetry in my life. But as teenagers, full of confusing hormones, looking forward at a ruined economy with nothing to show you what your future will look like but wildly popular dystopic YA fiction, poetry might mean a great deal to you. Perhaps you have a little journal you keep in your room where you write down all of your greatest worries in awkward meter. Maybe you wander around campus in between classes trying to find that eternally elusive rhyme for 'orange'. Poetry can be a great escape for the disaffected teenager, apparently. I don't really know; I was really popular as a child and everyone in my hometown looked and behaved exactly like I did. But this class isn't about me. It's about all of you."
He nodded empathetically at the students for a long, awkward moment, then stood up and went to the chalkboard.
That's right, not a whiteboard, an actual, old school, salt-of-the-earth, covered-in-still-vaguely-legible-'erased'-words-and-math-formulas chalkboard. We're not real sure where he got it.
"So what do we know about poetry? Well, first off, it rhymes." He wrote "rhymes" on the board. "Also, it does something I've heard referred to as 'scanning'." He added "scans". "I don't know what that is, but it seems to be important. And lastly, it's expressive." "Expresses" went up on the board, and the whole list -- of three things -- was underlined. "And for some reason, they're not songs, even though songs are clearly more fun. That's -- I think that's everything? Sure! Okay. So we're going to write poetry today! About something we really care about, like -- balls! Let's write poems about balls. I'm going to say it should be at leeeeeeeeeeeast . . . four lines. That rhyme. About balls. Take . . . twenty minutes." He tapped his piece of chalk against the base of his chin, leaving a little dusty streak in his fur, then nodded. "And then read them out loud!" Who needed lesson planning when you could make an assignment up on the fly?
"Oh, and just to let you know, I did not receive any notes from the producers about last week's episode. So let's keep up that good work! And Faith -- don't think I forgot about your homework assignment! I want to hear all about your five mile run last week. Now -- get poetring! Poetric? Poemish. Write poems!"
Re: Talk to Mr. Peanutbutter
Re: Talk to Mr. Peanutbutter
Re: Talk to Mr. Peanutbutter
Re: Talk to Mr. Peanutbutter