So, it is day 9 of the month, which after this poem puts me still 7 behind for the challenge, but I will catch up. I wrote this poem in my car at work after finding a crayon in my pocket. I think it is safe to say if not for this challenge, this poem wouldn't exist.
I was talking to my students today about misconceptions, how they are formed and how they effect how we navigate the world and learn. So of course, the issue of not really knowing if what you are reading is true came up. It is that whole philosophy of how do you know a tiger is real until you've seen it in person. . . We focused then on what sources we felt we could trust and what sources we kind of just had to trust v.s. what we should seek out to verify ourselves.
So that is what was on my mind -- the trust we put in our authors-- as I was walking to my car and I found this crayon in my pocket. Likely left over from a lunch out with my son last Fall or Spring.
And to prove that you can trust me ;), I took a picture. I really did write this poem in crayon, in my car no less.
NPMC Poem 2:
"The Trust Between Us"
I am writing this poem in crayon.
You can't see this
but I can.
Such is the nature of our relationship
built on this membrane of trust.
I experience and tell.
You believe
or not.
I can tell you
this crayon is purple and new.
Well, it looks new
feels new
but I found it in my pocket.
Did you believe me that it was new?
I can tell you my shoes sound like horses
when I'm walking down the hall
and that somewhere in this garage
a single bird is singing.
Did you know I was in a garage?
I'm also on the second page of this poem now.
I write big in crayon
my Y's and G's swooping long and low
farther than they should go.
You can't see this
but I can.
Just as I can see the tip of this crayon wearing down
faster than I would believe if you told me
But that is the issue of trust.
At least
the trust between us.
I was talking to my students today about misconceptions, how they are formed and how they effect how we navigate the world and learn. So of course, the issue of not really knowing if what you are reading is true came up. It is that whole philosophy of how do you know a tiger is real until you've seen it in person. . . We focused then on what sources we felt we could trust and what sources we kind of just had to trust v.s. what we should seek out to verify ourselves.
So that is what was on my mind -- the trust we put in our authors-- as I was walking to my car and I found this crayon in my pocket. Likely left over from a lunch out with my son last Fall or Spring.
And to prove that you can trust me ;), I took a picture. I really did write this poem in crayon, in my car no less.
"The Trust Between Us"
I am writing this poem in crayon.
You can't see this
but I can.
Such is the nature of our relationship
built on this membrane of trust.
I experience and tell.
You believe
or not.
I can tell you
this crayon is purple and new.
Well, it looks new
feels new
but I found it in my pocket.
Did you believe me that it was new?
I can tell you my shoes sound like horses
when I'm walking down the hall
and that somewhere in this garage
a single bird is singing.
Did you know I was in a garage?
I'm also on the second page of this poem now.
I write big in crayon
my Y's and G's swooping long and low
farther than they should go.
You can't see this
but I can.
Just as I can see the tip of this crayon wearing down
faster than I would believe if you told me
But that is the issue of trust.
At least
the trust between us.
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