But first, school. It’s count week, so the girls need to log in every day and do one thing in each class. Sometimes there isn’t something to do every day, but we are doubling up since vacation is coming up – so no problem adding in coursework. Grace did math, read something in AgriScience, read about photosynthesis in Biology, turned in her art and worked on English. Hannah did 3 math tests, checked in History and English and we read a book out loud about Magellan. Jack slept.
We got ready for this month’s poe-tea with some chocolate macaroons, cherry pies and orange pumpkins.
Our poem was “The Rose That Grew From Concrete” by Tupac Shakur
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
At first glance, if you knew nothing about him, this is a poem about being stubborn and overcoming nature, growing without being nurtured. Tupac was born in Harlem in New York, he had a rough life, but in High school he grew to love the arts. He was in the Nutcracker, he studied Shakespeare, he rapped and wrote poems. When he was at the Baltimore School for the Arts he had this to say about Shakespeare, “[…] I love Shakespeare. He wrote some of the rawest stories, man. I mean look at Romeo and Juliet. That’s some serious ghetto sh**. You got this guy Romeo from the Bloods who falls for Juliet, a female from the Crips, and everybody in both gangs is against them. So they have to sneak out and they end up dead for nothing. Real tragic stuff. And look how Shakespeare busts it up with Macbeth. He creates a tale about this king’s wife who convinces a happy man to chase after her and kill her husband so he can take over the country. After he commits the murder, the dude starts having delusions just like in a Scarface song. I mean the king’s wife just screws this guy’s whole life up for nothing […]” This poem is about how something can grow in rough places, without love, without caring as long as it keeps the dream alive.
Our poems were nature themed this month:
Fall leaves tumbling down,
cinnamon spice leaves crunch on the ground.
Whirlwind gusts twirl
red, brown and gold bits into the air,
Fall dreams carry me there,
where gray skies shiver and
branches dance before
Winter steals the show.
this is Halloween.
Pumpkin pie tastes the best,
you can have the rest,
but leave a slice for me!
Pumpkins are so nice,
they smell like harvest and spice,
decorate for Fall.