Taking up the idea of braiding other people’s stories with your own, tonight’s class gave us a Saulian phrase, métissage to mull over as we composed an Elementary Métissage, based upon the poetry of Joe Brainard:
The Five Senses
by Dave, Heidi, Kyle & Sharon
I remember shadows flitting on a white screen, that special day activity room.
I remember the brassy taste of my baritone horn’s mouthpiece
I remember that plasticky Styrofoam smell, signalling the arrival of McDonald lunches
I remember the rubbery plonking sound as the red blue yellow balls came bounding out of their crate
I remember the metallic tug of the flagpole cable.
I remember the coffee grounds scent filling the library at PT nights
I remember tasting hickory sticks when our field trip detoured into a corner store
I remember the warmth of the glue gun just before the science project came together
I remember the dreadful film with that killer ceiling fan and a blueberry-bodies girl
I remember that far-off distant whine as the skytrain started and stopped
I remember the smell of freshly cut grass on the way to Mitchell elementary.
I remember the sound of Terry Fox’s voice on the TV in my second grade classroom.
I remember the taste of ice cream sandwiches from the cafeteria.
I remember the rough red fabric of the high jump mats.
I remember the view of the playground from my classroom and the tire swing still spinning after lunch was done.
I Remember Carolinas lips on mine during a game of girls catch the boys
I remember the fruit roll up and how I stole it from Courtney Mcfarlands lunchbox
I remember walking home through Mitchel field with my head down and the wet pants pressed against my legs after I failed to make it to the boys room
I remember the undercover play area and 80s dance music And the way the grade sevens danced like I’d never seen before
I remember walking into my grade four classroom on the first day of school and seeing a tank of goldfish swimming as excitedly of the students discovering the new classroom.
I remember the smell of chili on the first cool days of fall pouring out of the cafeteria making the school smell delicious.
I remember the fluffy buttery taste of the rolls served at lunch once a week.
I remember the booming authoritative yet kind voice of Mr. Carter our principal over the PA system every morning welcoming us to another day.
I remember the chilling uncomfortable touch of chalk as I wrote on the chalkboard.
Remember my second cousin coming into my grade one classroom during break.
I remember in grade four, seeing Mrs. Smith’s arm flab shaking as she wrote on the green board with white chalk. This was the first time I ever noticed flab on arms. Today I have arm flab.
I remembered the sound when I return from the UK to Canada of kids saying mean things to Beverly Dunlop, pushing others into her desk and their cruelness towards her. I recall my bewilderment of such barbaric behaviour.