Our class began with a discussion of food and memory in preparation for studying Gary Soto’s Narrative-Style poem, Oranges. Nostalgia and feelings came up frequently in our discussions. What emotions are attached to memory and food? Why? Do memories change as time goes by? How? Below are some examples of students’ work.
Lesson Note: This session included a student group performance/ Poet’s Theater presentation of the poem. Here, the young writers are asked to improvise, collaborate, utilize props, and present a performance to their peers quickly. To ‘physicalize’ the poem quickly, removes the ‘inner editor’ and places the poem inside the body via muscle memory. It also allows a myriad of options for the poem’s interpretation. At the end of the residency, ‘Oranges’ is usually the poem that is remembered most.
Ms. Hernandez, 7th Grade
Seco
Harlee A.
Flavorful chicken with yellow rice &
always paired with Ecuador soda. Flavors
having a party in my mouth. There’s
nothing more authentic and homemade
Ecuadorian recipe.
Chipotle Bowl
by Zoe N.
The doorbell rings, following my
entrance into the Chipotle
Chatter all around the room,
as if they were
Radio talk shows
I wait in the long line
Carne Asada filling my
nostrils.
As I arrive to the middle of the line
against the falls, I order
“A bowl with white rice, please.”
“Oh-yeah. Can you add steak?”
“No beans.”
“Thank you.”
The lady with the braided hair, like
a pattern,
passes it to the man next to her.
“Uh…can I have cheese?”
“And pico de Gallo.”
“And a bit of lettuce.”
“Thank you.”
I pay and sit down in a
squeaky chair as I sip on
my Coke,
announcing to the room
that I am about to eat.
I finish my bowl.
The cheese melts lightly
into the steak.
I taste a sweet piece of
tomato before taking out my
phone.
“Chipotle is (fire emoji)/ 10”
Mrs. McClain, 8th Grade
Mac & Cheese
by Marely M.
I walked into my granmas cozy home
The smell of cheeses lingered all throughout the house
The scent captured me, and I headed for the kitchen
I could see my grandma putting in each cheese bit by
bit.
Cheddar, Gouda, American, and Colby Jack
I could see the noodles dancing around, waiting for
more cheese.
“Come help me,” said my grandma.
I immediately went over and put the last layer of cheese
on top.
My grandma opened the oven, and I could feel the
warm, gooey mac & cheese being made.
425 the perfect temperature
When the beep went off, out came a sizzling, gooey, warm
and cheesy dish that felt like my grandma’s cozy
home.
Taco
by Jobson H.
I eat a taco; the crunch is the time when I
stepped on snow for the first time.
The smell is the time when I baked ginger
bread with my mom.
The sauce on my hands was the time I made
a handprint in pre-school.
The abundant flavors are my emotions
running through.
I leave the restaurant with the memories
of the past and present, doorbells
jingling behind me.
Mrs. McClain, 8th Grade
Pizza Poem
by Max B.
I still remember
the first time I ate cheese
pizza. It tasted
very cheesy and
greasy.
I remember I
wanted a lot of
It but we
didn’t have
any left.
But that’s
ok I can
have that steaming
bred with sauce
land cheese.
Pasta
by Brigid R.
Pasta
Hot, fresh, steaming from the boll waiting for me
I’m hungry, waiting in the kitchen
Best I’ve had
I love pasta
easy to make, yet so complex
Time effort to make the dough
but so good
Many and all love pasta.
