tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22231254164617292122024-03-14T05:03:12.317+00:00Headingley LitFestUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger575125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-43493134371147504262024-03-06T18:03:00.005+00:002024-03-06T18:42:01.558+00:00Book of the Bard: Exploring Shakespeare's First Folio<p><b> <span style="font-family: verdana;">Sally Bavage writes:</span></b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Heart Centre Saturday 2 March</b><span style="mso-tab-count: 9;"><b> </b> </span></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij38oT4BbFpQac12uRBzEvSerWMTNTJ4TJ8mg_Kh-mc-UstcyBhRiY8R4M6zDDQqFtLeonrLF2dGMs-m3Bqc-9-Xs3QbjHL4tCzC3xy54WEEY3joe-jKuzZSRzydmK358aHHqCDoh4m0tH7-zLlWGSQmU1dSs__PEFWA2Teew_PkXIBdmcZK885B7-25g/s1600/Prof%20Emma%20Smith.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="998" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij38oT4BbFpQac12uRBzEvSerWMTNTJ4TJ8mg_Kh-mc-UstcyBhRiY8R4M6zDDQqFtLeonrLF2dGMs-m3Bqc-9-Xs3QbjHL4tCzC3xy54WEEY3joe-jKuzZSRzydmK358aHHqCDoh4m0tH7-zLlWGSQmU1dSs__PEFWA2Teew_PkXIBdmcZK885B7-25g/w250-h400/Prof%20Emma%20Smith.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Professor Emma Smith</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The
apocalyptic rain that greeted our audience members was definitely from the
stage directions for <i>The Tempest. </i>It did not dissuade our intrepid
speaker, local girl Professor Emma Smith, who braved not just the weather but
the train strikes to get to Headingley by a more roundabout route than
TrainLine would have suggested.</span><p></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was our
good fortune to be treated to over an hour of presentation, anecdote and
education in answer to our questions that was a tour-de-force. Emma Smith's
grasp of the comedies, tragedies and histories that were collected together by
Shakespeare's friends and colleagues after his death into the book now known as
the First Folio is so extensive – no wonder she is your go-to expert for many
TV programmes and international commentators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Despite such depth of academic knowledge she presented her material in a
light and witty way that kept everyone gripped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Brevity is the soul of wit’, said a certain
playwright, and Emma Smith covered the key elements of the making of the first
published collection, in 1623, of the majority of Shakespeare's output both
briefly and in such entertaining style.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I suspect many
of us are familiar with the classic picture of Shakespeare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Emma pointed out, it <i>does </i>rather
look like a Monty Python version, with the head about to come loose!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's because printers often illustrated
their printed versions with a generalised body in a doublet and just added the
relevant head. It wasn't actually very common to print playscripts four hundred
years ago – plays were performed perhaps half a dozen times before a new work
was put on and the script shelved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After all, if the script was available to audience members then they
might not go to the theatre as frequently as was the case in Elizabethan times.
Travelling theatre troupes would put on the same play in town after town, not
needing a comprehensive repertoire. Most of the plays written by other
playwrights in the late sixteenth century received about half a dozen
performances and were then lost to history. </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4kOvu4KtTND0RecxdQpgMErgIIJTrKYKKs7LS722CiDClcbilF-6Af-Z2W6fdwYZx61IrwaY2-V_30H31yKBbJpW3qwIGXOC8vzRS2B2hyphenhyphenszSWLVgeM_3rnYgRFW8XP4IVqeVnA_I23LYeTp1qid1jCDNsba37_vKw1tR1jBA92Jm8ngdLzlfRfbPW0/s1289/William_Shakespeare_-_First_Folio_1623.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1289" data-original-width="800" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4kOvu4KtTND0RecxdQpgMErgIIJTrKYKKs7LS722CiDClcbilF-6Af-Z2W6fdwYZx61IrwaY2-V_30H31yKBbJpW3qwIGXOC8vzRS2B2hyphenhyphenszSWLVgeM_3rnYgRFW8XP4IVqeVnA_I23LYeTp1qid1jCDNsba37_vKw1tR1jBA92Jm8ngdLzlfRfbPW0/w241-h387/William_Shakespeare_-_First_Folio_1623.jpg" width="241" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">The bulk of
Shakespeare's plays were put together and published in what was an unusual and
expensive venture which was probably not seen just as an investment but more as
a way preserving his extraordinary body of work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Emma took us through the printing process on
the Gutenberg movable-type press, exploring how it would be so expensive in time and labour.
This section greatly interested the representative from Waterstones who was
there with copies of various of Emma's acclaimed writings (see below) - he had
trained as a printer in Portugal on the same type of machine almost four centuries
later, and knew that it was based on a traditional wine press</span></span><p></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Fascinating to
see the inky fingerprints on certain copies, to note that children somehow
managed to add their drawings and to read the annotations made by owners over
the years. Some had decided certain passages were 'naughty' or in poor Latin,
or had added comments of their own. Although copies are now worth millions, it
was not until the nineteenth century that the monetary value really shot up. Of
perhaps 750 copies originally made, only 235 survive and 51 of those in the
UK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Emma Smith who did the
research and authenticated the 235<sup>th</sup> copy discovered in 2016 on the
Isle of Bute. Local magnate Benjamin Gott of Armley owned a copy, very pleasing
to a scholar who grew up in Gott's own neck of the woods.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We were abuzz
with questions afterwards, audience members entranced by Emma's erudition and
down-to-earth approach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sequels are
never as good as the first version, Emma alleged, and asked us to compare the
film <i>Legally Blonde </i>with <i>Legally Blonde 2</i> when considering the
worth of <i>Henry IV Parts 1 and 2. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who else but a consummate master of her craft
would do that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We splashed
out into the tempest together, companionably sharing umbrellas and
commiserations on the weather. This wasn't <i>The Merchant of Venice </i>“droppeth
as the gentle rain from heaven” but more <i>Twelfth Night </i>“the rain it
raineth every day.”</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p style="background: rgb(242, 242, 242);"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: verdana;">Emma
Smith was born and brought up in Leeds. She is Professor of Shakespeare Studies
at Hertford College, Oxford, and the 2023 Sam Wanamaker Fellow at Shakespeare’s
Globe. </span><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: verdana;"></span></p>
<p style="background: rgb(242, 242, 242);"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: verdana;">Her
books include <i>The Making of Shakespeare’s First Folio</i> and <i>Shakespeare’s
First Folio: Four Centuries of an Iconic Book</i>, both with second editions
published for the anniversary in 2023. Her <i>This Is Shakespeare</i> was a
Sunday Times bestseller. She has broadcast extensively about Shakespeare on BBC
radio and television. </span><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: verdana;"></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-43005767853774756072024-03-06T15:25:00.003+00:002024-03-06T18:09:40.989+00:00 International Women's Day: Inspire Inclusion<br /><p></p><p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"><b>Sally Bavage writes:<br /></b></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">The Shire Oak,
used in Headingley as an assembly place until it was brought down by gales
close to a century ago, was the name used for the assembly hall in the Heart
Centre in Headingley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had gales too
this morning – gales of laughter as we gathered to celebrate the achievements
and advances of women.</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BUdSeRutK8ZvMSq535YyFmczHWFcYwI1nx0T7xjMjZmoQO-vlcp_gc-y7GKAUvHgOMkjS3j03NGDJRbfaTfi_hVdX9XULHsf3Lg8ke49hJTJE4Q3199EJqPTKz4wMJ2zjeWkZoMI85AQa8rGH7QGleA-mKYrP-hde-F-NrfW9-YYw9qUtg8NNs5GDXE/s4080/IMG_20240305_104457745_MFNR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BUdSeRutK8ZvMSq535YyFmczHWFcYwI1nx0T7xjMjZmoQO-vlcp_gc-y7GKAUvHgOMkjS3j03NGDJRbfaTfi_hVdX9XULHsf3Lg8ke49hJTJE4Q3199EJqPTKz4wMJ2zjeWkZoMI85AQa8rGH7QGleA-mKYrP-hde-F-NrfW9-YYw9qUtg8NNs5GDXE/w385-h290/IMG_20240305_104457745_MFNR.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">The <b>Headingley
Creative Writing Group</b> gathered to share their prose, poems and
observations of the significance of <b>March 8<sup>th</sup>, International
Women's Day</b> since 1913.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b>Barbara<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lawton</b> explored the history of the day
that has helped to make women's rights and issues become more prominent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A dedicated website was set up in 2001 to
publicise, promote and celebrate what is now a bank holiday in quite a few
countries around the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not in the
UK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><a href="https://www.internationalwomensday.com/"><span color="windowtext" face=""Verdana",sans-serif" style="text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">https://www.internationalwomensday.com/</span></a></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Barbara's poem
about the Cradley Heath Chainmakers' strike of 1910 old of women working at
home with 'forges flaring in flimsy sheds behind their dirtyard homes.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Health and safety, eh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, the women beat the chain barons and
their victory continued the march towards equality.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Kaz Byrne</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">'s poem about sports day<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- yes, women do play – reminded me of the
recent video clip that went viral of a man explaining to a professional woman
golfer how to improve her stroke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Less
amusing is the news item today that women footballers suffer anterior cruciate
ligament injuries (dreadful, often career-ending) up to six times more
frequently than men and that the research into training techniques and boot
technology for women hasn't been done. Kaz also gave a simple rollcall of
famous influential women in so many fields of endeavour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such a long list was heartening.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Eileen Neil</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">'s moving poem on My Grandmother's
Hands, which were 'small and square, skin threadbare, veins tracing her years'
were the symbol of her hard life in a tiny terrace house caring and catering
for her family, rubbing Stork margerine into her pastry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now Eileen possesses those hands and wondered
what future she was rubbing with them.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Jackie
Parsons</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> poem
Metamorphosis was a journey along a timeline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her second poem – Novelty or Freak Show – was a wry remembrance of her
audition for a (male) band as a base player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In 1974 she was rather a novelty and she lost out in the final two as
she had 'no Fender base, no Y chromosome'. Later, playing in an all-women
progressive rock band Mother Superior, they wore too many clothes for a record
company to understand.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><a href="https://www.progarchives.com/artist.asp?id=7962"><span color="windowtext" face=""Verdana",sans-serif" style="text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">https://www.progarchives.com/artist.asp?id=7962</span></a></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Our privileged
audience were then treated to songs from an all-women a capella group called <b>Harissa</b>
– yes, spicy and fiery when it comes to defining what women want and
deserve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But one refrain 'I will not
hate and I will not fear, In our darkest hour hope lingers here' summed up the
determination of women worldwide to taste progress and equality. Ain't No
Mountain High Enough and Fernando's Highway with new words were both inspiring
and joyful.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Bill
Fitzsimons</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> first poem
referenced the book by Pat Barker, The Silence of the Girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In itself a thought-provoking book, Bill's
writing took to task the one man in ten who taint the rest with their sexist
entitled behaviours whilst women feel silenced to complain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And his Hidden Figures noted that three
female mathematicians working for NASA in the 1960s were neither featured nor
acknowledged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Houston might have been
calling, but only for white-shirted white men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He celebrated the work of Mary Jackson, Katherine Johnson and Dorothy
Vaughan whose computer prowess supported John Glenn and focused on the
safety of the mission.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Marie Paule
Sheard</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">'s Monsoon
Mirage was a poem of contrasts. Falling streams of monsoon rain create the
silver bars of a cage at the door beyond which a female servant may not
go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looks out at the light dancing
on raindrops like diamonds she can never reach before the clouds return and she
returns to her work.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Linda
Marshall</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">'s poem told
us She Couldn't Cook, despite it being expected of every women. Her heroine
provided for her children with a balanced diet – bacon-flavoured crisps for
breakfast, cheese and onion flavour for lunch and the roast beef variety for
supper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She avoided the sweet desserts –
too unhealthy – and went for apple or beetroot crisps for a better diet. Her
children clamoured for real food that was crisp-flavoured.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Myrna Moore</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">'s Skin was 'Beautiful no more except
in the memory' as she reviewed the lives and deaths of Nicole Henry and Biba
Smallman, murdered and ignored then defiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'Was it your melamine skin?' Her second
poem was The Conversation, the words that deny recognition of children and
women as part of humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'For a fairer
world shouldn't we all be feminists?'</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Dru Long</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">'s writing Spoonfuls of Sugar had been
inspired by the statue of a man who had been involved in the slave trade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A child stolen, imprisoned, fitted with a
metal collar, abused, frightened by the 'Cold wind that makes the sharp canes
shiver.' Sugar in coffee, was it worth<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fitting that the news today
notes the Church of England has agreed to set up a £100 million fund to start to
redress the Archbishop of Canterbury's description of their 'moral sin' in
benefiting to the tune of billions from the slave trade.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><img align="right" height="23" hspace="12" src="file:////Users/aj/Library/Group%20Containers/UBF8T346G9.Office/TemporaryItems/msohtmlclip/clip_image001.png" width="10" /><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Maria Sandle</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">,
with ukelele and guitar,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and <b>Rob
Baker</b> on the melodeon teamed up to present two numbers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tear Down the Fences, music and lyrics
by Ola Belle Read, a feisty banjo-playing social reformer from the
Appalachians, wants to ...</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">'Tear down the
fences that fence us all in</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Then we could
walk together again.'</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Ola turned
down a lucrative radio contract because she disapproved of their ethics and was
devoted to advancing social justice and civil rights causes via her music.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Maria's own
words in praise of Skipper Dora (Dora Walker) were a delightful
celebration of the first woman skipper of a fishing boat on the North East
coast and she is now memorialised by a wire statue on the cliffs at Whitby.
First President of the Ladies Lifeboat Guild, the former WW1 nurse was a strong
woman trailblazer indeed.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dora_Walker"><span color="windowtext" face=""Verdana",sans-serif" style="text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dora_Walker</span></a></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Malcolm
Henshall</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> wrote a
bittersweet piece, Is Parking the Only Benefit?, on twins where one is born
disabled after a problem birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One is
ordinary, one is special. The boy walks to school, his sister is taxied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy goes to university, his sister to a
'centre'. The boy will be cared for in old age by his children, his young
sister is cared for by old parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
boy looks to the future, his sister …?</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Only a Woman
was a wry look at the failure of a male employee to grasp the woman he worked
with was his boss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His derisory comment
to her 'What would you know?' rebounded on him when she did know – all<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>about sacking.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Jim Mallin</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> wrote a sweet account of Greta
Thunberg and her fight for climate change action from such a young age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>School striker to activist to international
acknowledgement as a voice to be listened to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Te men need to listen!</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Finally, the
group's former tutor, <b>Liz McPherson</b>, whose original work brought the
group together, read our final poem I'm Going In!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whoever cleans the bathroom – yes, normally a
women reader of Mrs Hinch -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>has to
tackle the scum in the bath, the gymsweat grease, the beard hair residue, with
fortitude and an array of fearsome chemicals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A jolly jab at a task more usually done by long-suffering women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things have to change.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Harissa</span></b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> closed the show with Girls Just Wanna
Have Fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hear hear!</span></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6Gq7s_fdykJdZPq92QWWjF4egvMExRIFXaL2e1YkCKHHAPAMKCQIXaMB-HGbp92mffScClB71ABAYZBj-HVBkAN9tkWkd8Qwbgpsg2Oa3yGEFjGCkMgMFULT9JRHCZ65BtbwGm-XJvSw1xDRrqH0ZUqGFgHnxXsx_kU5pBkfzYQiotIhP_7h6LmultU/s2429/IWD%20cake.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1307" data-original-width="2429" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6Gq7s_fdykJdZPq92QWWjF4egvMExRIFXaL2e1YkCKHHAPAMKCQIXaMB-HGbp92mffScClB71ABAYZBj-HVBkAN9tkWkd8Qwbgpsg2Oa3yGEFjGCkMgMFULT9JRHCZ65BtbwGm-XJvSw1xDRrqH0ZUqGFgHnxXsx_kU5pBkfzYQiotIhP_7h6LmultU/w640-h344/IWD%20cake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
<p class="Standard"> </p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-85177158314875766082024-03-01T15:04:00.013+00:002024-03-05T14:42:13.401+00:00Malika Booker makes her debut at Little London<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b>Richard Wilcocks writes:</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbDU-eYuhZsRAg9FUgzogSM4DZnYPmReg1MJbCS9u0neR4Z2GXbCdHhyphenhyphenVfYymB4iN0tEtfwteiP2oW6sKpPugbGQZ_dpWuGo5YMpR5Lqx9UO85mOy_Io352ksfwczBvEL3xaW9B5lbCluGevU5silPCOkRJI9XklrDOx5DlqUDWJ3rIjwnNuE2q7YHto/s1113/LL%20Rachel%20and%20Malika%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1113" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbDU-eYuhZsRAg9FUgzogSM4DZnYPmReg1MJbCS9u0neR4Z2GXbCdHhyphenhyphenVfYymB4iN0tEtfwteiP2oW6sKpPugbGQZ_dpWuGo5YMpR5Lqx9UO85mOy_Io352ksfwczBvEL3xaW9B5lbCluGevU5silPCOkRJI9XklrDOx5DlqUDWJ3rIjwnNuE2q7YHto/w400-h283/LL%20Rachel%20and%20Malika%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Rachel Davey and Malika Booker</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><b>Little London Academy has joined our Poetry in Schools project!</b> Poet Malika Booker made sure that the first sessions with teacher Rachel Davey's Year 5 class were exciting and productive. Every one of the nine and ten year-old pupils was enthusiastic about what they were about to create from the moment she first walked in, partly due to the groundwork put in by their teacher. She began by asking questions. Do you enjoy shopping with your mother on a Saturday morning? Pushing a supermarket trolley? Most responses were positive, a little surprising because the opposite tends to be the case at the other school where she has become a kind of veteran session-leader, Brudenell Primary, and where she has pursued domestic themes on several occasions before. After the back and forth, she read two of her poems, the first based on her childhood memories of shopping trips with her mother in Brixton Market, London, trips during which every item for sale was examined in minute detail. The second poem was about the cat that had to be given away at her birth. Thinking about close loved ones was being flagged, to be extended later.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The class had covered metaphors before, which became useful when Malika moved on to them. "I'm going to tell you a trick to find a good one, using the five senses," she said. "What are they, who can remind us?" Most hands went up. She stood by sheets of paper on a frame, produced a felt tip to write down as many of the answers and suggestions as possible. Similes flew about, along with emotions. "What is love like? Before I hear your ideas, I am wondering if you know what a cliché is." Some knew, others did not. So love did not necessarily have to be represented by red roses. The felt tip moved fast as original comparisons were aired. Every table was soon busy with group work.<i> Anger hurts like boiling water. It smells like burning plastic. Love tastes of cherries and looks like a floating butterfly. Hate is like bubbling acid.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZWDIB4qIV2wb_F0omdR8uf-99xn9K0nQyD1Ktto-LgWSWEonCpWMxaMh3T7B-X_Upjc4FRZwCXtVUa1_mZ0pCcujCQbS0jSZl17EJVmdEWKeW4y4mzuXzMBY4fuC-yOgHfXSKMVs40f8VJta9pwU0sEmS9dUBsVwM9Kx8ilidkkY2tt6S6qqEFAiAiI/s2048/LL%20girl%20poet.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1529" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZWDIB4qIV2wb_F0omdR8uf-99xn9K0nQyD1Ktto-LgWSWEonCpWMxaMh3T7B-X_Upjc4FRZwCXtVUa1_mZ0pCcujCQbS0jSZl17EJVmdEWKeW4y4mzuXzMBY4fuC-yOgHfXSKMVs40f8VJta9pwU0sEmS9dUBsVwM9Kx8ilidkkY2tt6S6qqEFAiAiI/s320/LL%20girl%20poet.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Writing around the drawing</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The second session came soon afterward<i>s </i>- the timescale had been shortened to just a couple of weeks - and intensive work had been done in the intervals by Rachel Davey, which was very apparent when Malika found that the groups had produced poems based on previous work. "You are amazing," she said when the poems were performed. "Now let me tell you more about what are known as list poems." And not just list poems. Anaphora might be a useful form. She supplied the definition: "It's about repeating words or phrases at the beginning of lines of poetry. It goes with list poems. We'll now take a body part to focus on, to express love for a special person in your life like your mother or your baby brother, or anybody you love. Look at the poem I have printed out for you."</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The poem was 'I remember my father's hands' by the Palestinian - American poet<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisa_Suhair_Majaj"> <span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b>Lisa Suhair Majaj</b></span></a>. After reading it, the class drew round their hands. "Each finger is for something different to write about what that person's hands do, what they look and feel like, how they represent that person's love." Suggestions included fingers clicking on mobiles, washing dishes, scrolling on iPads, playing with baby toys, rubbing eyes, pinching cheeks, preparing favourite foods and stroking pets.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br />The third session - only a few days further on - began with Malika's advice on presenting the poems to an audience. The class had completed their poems on a loved one's hands and had already practised how they would perform them, in groups and as individuals. They 'rooted' themselves ("That's how you stand") and marked in the places in their poems when they should look at the audience. Malika laughed about stage fright: "I am often nervous. Look, my hand shakes like this when I am holding my poem on the stage." Everyone went down to the main hall. Chairs were arranged. There was a final morale-booster when Malika urged them to chant well-known tongue-twisters as loudly as they could, and yes, they could. She sells sea shells on the sea shore.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcACIt_KCtcr7Ii2ny58BFunfhCa3zhqwFauMoaXcOxiXVtAp4t3XlUO229Uc4H41WK-HNw0Fpz-kTrBA0y-UJqWUtfCx8eYORjN9EYRaXeP0OmnkEWzFDyOFxQ7LrS8c92RrVKHayLoOjDvVWFh1x_t6A8rS-FrftMPTs8XyCeUH5hnwDDSHcRgCttM/s2497/Imran.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2497" data-original-width="1781" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcACIt_KCtcr7Ii2ny58BFunfhCa3zhqwFauMoaXcOxiXVtAp4t3XlUO229Uc4H41WK-HNw0Fpz-kTrBA0y-UJqWUtfCx8eYORjN9EYRaXeP0OmnkEWzFDyOFxQ7LrS8c92RrVKHayLoOjDvVWFh1x_t6A8rS-FrftMPTs8XyCeUH5hnwDDSHcRgCttM/w218-h306/Imran.JPG" width="218" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Loudly and clearly</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Just before eleven o'clock, the audience of parents poured in. It included a couple of remarkably peaceful babies. The groups and the individuals stepped forward in order to deliver what they had written, loudly and clearly. The applause should last for years in those young minds.</span><p></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b> </b></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b>Some comments</b></span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">"I'm so proud of all of you!" Rachel Davey, class teacher.<br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">"This was a great opportunity to express feelings." Dawn Parchment, cover supervisor.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">"Excellent! It's the first time I've seen poetry like this." Srikanth Usha, parent.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">Some pupil poetry</span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_H1i0brRJ4AXE82HbDrhtwSm2vOGtjCvdNzlVWEyUC7LjXi8JqF6ntk7l4umjZWQU_SIPnOrjP4mSI4hjXtCzIi6lImfgX1IRhgGpnXvvJHHDeaSDnBSIHGeB_ynybMfCjAuhk9Fsge825vfDEsTwQNcMhU8KPSieNmxij_0dT8Hh40gvxe9bdXFwSo/s851/2%20LL%20poem%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="779" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_H1i0brRJ4AXE82HbDrhtwSm2vOGtjCvdNzlVWEyUC7LjXi8JqF6ntk7l4umjZWQU_SIPnOrjP4mSI4hjXtCzIi6lImfgX1IRhgGpnXvvJHHDeaSDnBSIHGeB_ynybMfCjAuhk9Fsge825vfDEsTwQNcMhU8KPSieNmxij_0dT8Hh40gvxe9bdXFwSo/w240-h262/2%20LL%20poem%202.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="Standard" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; 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text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><p class="Standard" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> </p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"> </span><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-13614558430739499342024-01-26T21:13:00.000+00:002024-01-26T21:13:03.976+00:00Wild Weather at Spring Bank primary school<p> </p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"> Sally Bavage writes:</span></b><br /></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">As Headingley
LitFest's commissioned poet for this project noted in his introduction to the
work of <b>Ms Baruah's Year 3 </b>class, “We've had quite a lot of it
recently!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indeed, following ten named
storms this winter – it's not even the end of January yet on an unseasonably
mild day – the whole school assembled to hear the original poems that the
seven- to eight-year-olds had created.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
good number of parents were there too, as well as special guest the <b>Lord
Mayor of Leeds</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quite an occasion if
you are only small. And shy. And nervous.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">Acting <b>headteacher
Amy Houldsworth</b> introduced <b>James Nash</b>, local poet and writer, and
old friend of the school who is now greeted by the pupils with a single name of
<i>Jamesnash</i>, as if it was his celebrity name. She explained that the topic
was chosen long ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nevertheless lots
of the work focussed on the recent wild winds, the strength and power of them,
the anxiety and damage they cause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apart
from the tornadoes and hurricanes we had tsunamis and sand storms, ice blankets
and tempests, creating disaster and destruction, demonstrating strength and the
power to hurt.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5X1Nc4LoYIwHLtAqBkRKYZfJpBoRogGmVrmmuMYJQeByCgx74fk-RxD8fe4UIwb03g3cSATQddLTADfqGPvRymSt8NTJ_rz98-8WSWL3hGlWt19BezSt-6eL83kZBvQYqQZ0QuZNbRPCYn1lGceWIR1RFhn-EXKSBtjVjHjk0qo7MH-6R2MQE59ipfjQ/s4080/IMG_20240126_095539304_MFNR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5X1Nc4LoYIwHLtAqBkRKYZfJpBoRogGmVrmmuMYJQeByCgx74fk-RxD8fe4UIwb03g3cSATQddLTADfqGPvRymSt8NTJ_rz98-8WSWL3hGlWt19BezSt-6eL83kZBvQYqQZ0QuZNbRPCYn1lGceWIR1RFhn-EXKSBtjVjHjk0qo7MH-6R2MQE59ipfjQ/w518-h390/IMG_20240126_095539304_MFNR.jpg" width="518" /></a></b></div><b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Calibri, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Class 3 teacher Tracey Baruah, the Lord Mayor of Leeds Councillor Al Garthwaite, acting headteacher Amy Houldsworth</span></span></b><br /><p></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">The project
begins by gathering ideas during a sharing session before the drafting where
the youngsters take the standpoint of being the wild weather personified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>James also writes a bespoke poem after that
session to read out and model the collaborative nature of the work. Redrafting
and further writing goes on before the pupils rehearse their work in
preparation for the school assembly.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">Yes, a few
sheets of paper were shaking like leaves in the winds of which they wrote, but
others declaimed with brio and panache.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The creativity, sensitivity and wide range of ideas generated<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by this work was just wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Tracey Baruah, class 3 teacher, commented
“Even children that find writing difficult have their ideas accepted and find
the confidence to read out their work. They use vocabulary that surprises and
amazes me. They find their voices.”</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">Teacher Jo
Ward</span></b><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">, now working
with class 6, worked on this project four years ago when they were class 2 –
positively tiny and barely at the beginning of their creative writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She recalled one young boy who had only
recently walked right across Europe as a refugee, spoke barely any English but
had been so proud to read out his work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He still remembered the occasion with great pride, and Jo commented that
her class <i>four years later </i>still talked of their work and spoke to her
of being poets now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">And what did
Ms Baruah's class 3 speak of this time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Working with a 'real' poet was such fun”, they had learned “How to
write a better poem” by reworking it from first ideas shared together, they had
“Really enjoyed sharing their work in class,” and of course, “We feel much more
confident!” Oh, and from this creative approach that they “Had really learnt a
lot about the weather.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowledge which
is certainly going to stand them in good stead in their futures!</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">The <b>Lord
Mayor of Leeds, Councillor Al Garthwaite, </b>listened attentively to their
work, praised them for their imagination and courage and was so pleased, as a
former school governor, to be back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
noted how well the whole school had listened, how hard the teachers worked and
how Spring Bank was a real family school. Praise indeed. She spent time with
each child afterwards and presented them with an individual Leeds City Owl pin
to commemorate the occasion.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">Summing up the
morning, acting headteacher Amy Houldsworth was absolutely clear that the
project was often the start of real self-belief, had value that was priceless
for some strugglers and was a milestone in making writing come alive.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">Once again
we are very grateful for the support shown Headingley LitFest by the Inner
North West Area Management Committee of Leeds City Council</span></b></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFNmNkwe8GaheIB-4YQcSKyvjH7YmYHSpAwD5eVLcdf6IZy2IA9EYiTVgcC04C32EurQGHZzZkF_2KtryNRA1QNo3CyBboGLr8y3hJ4azhPPcok6Fu-bCtWNGwTEgzH0hwN9s_cf5yiG39rBjRf9x5TErYMeEMfxg9Fd74GCeeapeHhCf2-Papt0j9uM/s180/Leeds%20CC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="64" data-original-width="180" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFNmNkwe8GaheIB-4YQcSKyvjH7YmYHSpAwD5eVLcdf6IZy2IA9EYiTVgcC04C32EurQGHZzZkF_2KtryNRA1QNo3CyBboGLr8y3hJ4azhPPcok6Fu-bCtWNGwTEgzH0hwN9s_cf5yiG39rBjRf9x5TErYMeEMfxg9Fd74GCeeapeHhCf2-Papt0j9uM/s1600/Leeds%20CC.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYq_JbiS-mqATTG2VFD1FR4PdBpJmAcO8rUf6_MJ9k54k-xMwLm1fnqqo71RswngXGYquo-5kCbmzqFvl-skdQAntRfmyRwaLMbIevRasNfV8YvCjGKvj_ZoZrmLGnxVSd8YvfuR_s-X0w_TPGpn8Yhbst0BlbeDbE5TmsUCMuXmdHRSGj8uENgYCfujk/s129/Community%20logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="84" data-original-width="129" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYq_JbiS-mqATTG2VFD1FR4PdBpJmAcO8rUf6_MJ9k54k-xMwLm1fnqqo71RswngXGYquo-5kCbmzqFvl-skdQAntRfmyRwaLMbIevRasNfV8YvCjGKvj_ZoZrmLGnxVSd8YvfuR_s-X0w_TPGpn8Yhbst0BlbeDbE5TmsUCMuXmdHRSGj8uENgYCfujk/s1600/Community%20logo.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-45084740923072678752024-01-19T10:58:00.005+00:002024-01-20T16:23:16.717+00:00The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe at Quarry Mount primary school <p>
</p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Sally Bavage writes:</b><br /></span><p class="Standard"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: verdana;">“It
is winter in Narnia,” said </span><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: verdana;">Mr Tumnus</span><span style="color: #202124; font-family: verdana;">, “and has been for ever so long…. always winter, but never
Christmas.”</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Well, it certainly felt like winter, after
the coldest night of the year so far, as the Lord Mayor <b>Al Garthwaite</b>, her
Consort <b>Denise Trickett</b> and her Sergeant-at-Arms arrived on a very icy morning
indeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indeed, I had briefly thought
longingly of the fur coats hanging in the magic wardrobe ...</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">However, the
welcome was anything but cool, a real wave of warmth and anticipation as year 5
waited to read out their poetry to a whole-school assembly. Once again
Headingley LitFest had commissioned local poet and writer <b>James Nash </b>to work
with <b>Mrs Emilie Davis</b> and her class 5, this time<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>during their study of the C S Lewis Narnia
classic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Headteacher <b>Rebecca Pettman </b>was
delighted to welcome the Lord Mayor of Leeds as well as the parents who could
attend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The class had speakers of 15
different languages but from the brilliant performances we were treated to in
faultless English it was clear how hard they had worked.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWgT0Wk5fWiGXRjS545OSbggO7UHmLSTplpjUHo8_ui8kNjHTu3oq79LqEhyd8bDQcRI_nXe9ZtSCwzhi7RhhGXsSC2cu2E5wXc3XxD2AZ9rY93heoM7eNhHL7rlmlcP7myLAzX5SkgUzAAb6fhYRW0vOBauQkB91qjJhKbUgQbIBAzkm0eICRjDaAq0/s4032/Quarry%20Mount%20Jan%2024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="455" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWgT0Wk5fWiGXRjS545OSbggO7UHmLSTplpjUHo8_ui8kNjHTu3oq79LqEhyd8bDQcRI_nXe9ZtSCwzhi7RhhGXsSC2cu2E5wXc3XxD2AZ9rY93heoM7eNhHL7rlmlcP7myLAzX5SkgUzAAb6fhYRW0vOBauQkB91qjJhKbUgQbIBAzkm0eICRjDaAq0/w606-h455/Quarry%20Mount%20Jan%2024.jpg" width="606" /></a></div><p></p><p class="Standard" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Consort Denise Trickett, James Nash, Lord Mayor Al Garthwaite, Class 5 teacher Emilie Davis</span></span></p><p class="Standard" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">James had
proposed a starting point for their original writing that they consider what
happens when you suddenly enter a different world, through a portal like the
back of a wardrobe. It could happen anywhere – behind a curtain, suddenly
zooming off at traffic lights, through a strange door ...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A novel idea which set year 5 off on their
own creative and imaginative journeys.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">James shared
his own version of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a poem with the class
and they drafted their own ideas, shared and shaped their work, took risks in
their writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They also practised how
you deliver your lines to an audience, some like rather shy mice and some in a
voice more often found in the playground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But everyone took part, declaiming either their favourite lines or the
entire piece of work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We heard dinosaurs
roar, invisible children laughing, smelt fish and chips, felt like it was a
waking nightmare and saw power surging through the readers – who then came out
like nothing happened.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Some totally
surprised their class teaching assistant <b>Angela Gough</b> with the quality of their
writing and the soaring confidence they showed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Class teacher Emilie Davis was so pleased with the pride and joy they
demonstrated despite the circumstances being “quite scary when you're only nine
or ten years old.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The performances had
“exceeded her expectations 100%”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
are going to make best copies of the poems and publish them in a book for the
whole school to read.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Lord Mayor Al
Garthwaite is the local councillor for Headingley and Hyde Park and revealed to
the school that she had always enjoyed poetry, even writing some prize-winning
verses herself in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She praised
the youngsters for their excellent demeanour and imaginative craft, confessing
that she too has to 'gather herself' before speaking in public.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sat with the youngsters afterwards and
gave each of them a badge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A visit they
certainly won't forget!</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And the
children?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had “so enjoyed working
with a proper poet,” loved “learning how to write a poem” and finding
inspiration gave them courage. They had learned “how to plan their writing” and
“gained confidence in reading in front of everybody,” especially “when other
people can see what you can do.” They had “really enjoyed working together and
having fun writing poetry.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now that's
magic too.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><b style="font-family: verdana;">Very
grateful thanks to the Inner North West Area Management Committee of Leeds City
Council for sponsoring this project again.</b></p><p class="Standard"><b style="font-family: verdana;"> </b></p><p class="Standard"><b style="font-family: verdana;"> </b><b style="font-family: verdana;"></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9h3h6sAQcN7tZwFAql3nIa5L6ToiDPBxrbEgKQr7LVj_PIerqnUjSelWIgA4rhdzlJKAQu8A9QAae0qNkF8qcQYQSmOJGpcT0PjEssB1-FOVPp9Krt6czf-VQ_uFDGOq4R7i2TN_zgJpRGpwWCHtxfD1xd9OSl9-sfAFjgbrS9KwIgvzmM7NMx8kMPgs/s180/Leeds%20CC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="64" data-original-width="180" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9h3h6sAQcN7tZwFAql3nIa5L6ToiDPBxrbEgKQr7LVj_PIerqnUjSelWIgA4rhdzlJKAQu8A9QAae0qNkF8qcQYQSmOJGpcT0PjEssB1-FOVPp9Krt6czf-VQ_uFDGOq4R7i2TN_zgJpRGpwWCHtxfD1xd9OSl9-sfAFjgbrS9KwIgvzmM7NMx8kMPgs/s1600/Leeds%20CC.jpg" width="180" /></a></b></div><b style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzpXmdL5ZkXsD3QZ59x6mZY7rNeo4fIlEdwdZ6dOtTV7YUmBycybXoVYe_srodpgHqykB8l_fpTEAJRpgYTKJO3Tpy30FXGY7IIArzcAarhsTAb7K1E9z4WgLhIFV9mOzpO31iTYVIJCmvKUb_XZ4dDRlV0hnu_f0lAABy1Rv4Bm4J9Rp749q7sYUfNM/s129/Community%20logo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="84" data-original-width="129" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzpXmdL5ZkXsD3QZ59x6mZY7rNeo4fIlEdwdZ6dOtTV7YUmBycybXoVYe_srodpgHqykB8l_fpTEAJRpgYTKJO3Tpy30FXGY7IIArzcAarhsTAb7K1E9z4WgLhIFV9mOzpO31iTYVIJCmvKUb_XZ4dDRlV0hnu_f0lAABy1Rv4Bm4J9Rp749q7sYUfNM/s1600/Community%20logo.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><br /></b><p></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-62304645117944225932024-01-12T09:32:00.004+00:002024-01-12T09:42:36.250+00:00Volcanoes erupt at Shire Oak Primary School in January<p><b> </b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Sally Bavage writes:</b><br /></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Can't resist writing of the <i>flow of creativity</i> and the <i>explosion of ideas</i> as Mr Martin's class 3 pupils tackled the idea of writing about volcanoes – as if they actually were one. An unusual starting point devised by Headingley LitFest's commissioned local poet and author James Nash - and one which gave full <i>vent </i>to the children's imagination. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The use of imagination and the sheer delight in using new and sophisticated vocabulary was extraordinary in a class of youngsters still only seven or eight. Tiny! Ideas were contributed to group discussions, first drafts written and shared and further thoughts given to edited and shaped versions. One girl's mum confessed that her daughter had really enjoyed the rehearsals too, enjoying a chance to perform her own words and hone her public-speaking skills. Parents from a near full-turnout agreed that their children had really loved and enjoyed the experience, were immersed in their poetry and had practised at home. “Brilliant! Just brilliant!” said one mum. “She has so much more confidence and her use of language has just soared.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpONrdueYeNUoIO9MNbmvK0VX-XoqoRKlvZmqY-5T-bxlajNp8ebZFLCGCtqSIoJDiT2_gqB7CtFPA9c6yZ-rmv8pxhSbO8vEU9q_I6r4ZarFDPYlpKOV5IZL5NPve2k6Vvb0kM5OysC0HohZ6_RTJdE5Go3VUFVXq7G3Xzpai4MGK2dCtGP8FYu_2Xw/s4080/Shire%20Oak%202.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpONrdueYeNUoIO9MNbmvK0VX-XoqoRKlvZmqY-5T-bxlajNp8ebZFLCGCtqSIoJDiT2_gqB7CtFPA9c6yZ-rmv8pxhSbO8vEU9q_I6r4ZarFDPYlpKOV5IZL5NPve2k6Vvb0kM5OysC0HohZ6_RTJdE5Go3VUFVXq7G3Xzpai4MGK2dCtGP8FYu_2Xw/w671-h505/Shire%20Oak%202.jpg" width="671" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: xx-small;">In the photo - Teaching assistant <b>Sue Strange</b>, poet <b>James Nash</b>, Headteacher <b>Jane Astrid Devane</b>, Lord Mayor <b>Al Garthwaite</b></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">
<div id="m_4224983281223626718appendonsend"></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><hr style="display: inline-block; width: 98%;" /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">James has such a rapport with these children: they respond with warmth, humour and hard graft. He wrote his own poem to share with them and confessed to a full school assembly that he thought some of the children's work better than his own. He also coaxed a cripplingly shy youngster to read out his words, a real triumph and part of the value of this project according to teaching assistant Sue Strange. Writing your own poetry is often a gateway to extended writing with confidence, and reading it aloud to a large audience a bonus. Life skills without doubt.</span></p><p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Headteacher Jane Astrid Devane explained that the school uses this work as a stepping stone to introducing more poetry into the curriculum and that she had so valued incorporating this work for the past decade. The school and staff always show a strong commitment to this project, building on the new skills and approaches.<o:p></o:p><i style="font-size: 12pt;"> </i></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've been dormant for a thousand years</span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">Buildings break and fall<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">Lava runs down my background<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">This coat of lava trickles down my tummy<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm angry like a buffalo<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">I can feel the earth shaking<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">I erupt. Bang! Bang! Bang!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have a tummy ache and I'm going to vomit!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And what of the children? They had “loved thinking of novel ideas,” writing and shaping their work and making such different approaches to the idea. They'd also found out “poems don't have to rhyme, you can write a poem about anything” and you can write it in the first person. They'd found “reading their work out had helped with developing their ideas” and “poems were short stories.” Did I mention they were proud of their increased confidence!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally, a surprise for the whole audience was that the <b>Lord Mayor of Leeds</b> had come along! Headingley and Hyde Park Councillor Al Garthwaite listened most carefully to the youngsters, addressed the young audience afterwards and spoke to each class 3 poet individually as she read their work. A real seal of approval from the local councillors who have always supported our work.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thanks are gratefully given to the local Inner North West Area Management Committee who supported the project.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXUdDpKpbB8qsf5i5lBuensxMGgaVJwnx7fsctnmsiB5mMv-Ixcw2LNpvvZUsB0NiNhOObTtZ2VI8VS_8ZXncSYpfn_Yv320ca9ryJC2IMHFNtEzhi7k-4MPWDZyQtqUTBSApppufy27uE4_XboQPNA60Qfzb26Y0cjBEzBfm94fGUgerRb53xX-f/s282/Leeds%20CC.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="282" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXUdDpKpbB8qsf5i5lBuensxMGgaVJwnx7fsctnmsiB5mMv-Ixcw2LNpvvZUsB0NiNhOObTtZ2VI8VS_8ZXncSYpfn_Yv320ca9ryJC2IMHFNtEzhi7k-4MPWDZyQtqUTBSApppufy27uE4_XboQPNA60Qfzb26Y0cjBEzBfm94fGUgerRb53xX-f/w182-h64/Leeds%20CC.jpg" width="182" /></a></div><p class="Standard" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj_jTYqM1l6eC-akuvusOiK7-6qA6vrUmemQHCYftnZTX98VrKCe1Vak50EzlOJXiUi5JH93LsivrXl8H4MLINN88oNPlccd6xrLDTEJSfR9LNWikokePcCX0n5JGmx1ESYejz-7BFsQZfx2PSR6WdlfAc64bFb3iGFiEbP87YCTORh5RMucbA8UB/s168/Community%20logo.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="110" data-original-width="168" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj_jTYqM1l6eC-akuvusOiK7-6qA6vrUmemQHCYftnZTX98VrKCe1Vak50EzlOJXiUi5JH93LsivrXl8H4MLINN88oNPlccd6xrLDTEJSfR9LNWikokePcCX0n5JGmx1ESYejz-7BFsQZfx2PSR6WdlfAc64bFb3iGFiEbP87YCTORh5RMucbA8UB/w129-h85/Community%20logo.jpg" width="129" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-55891982830296596002023-11-24T16:27:00.004+00:002023-11-24T20:48:09.429+00:00Poetry with James Nash at Ireland Wood Primary School <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7pnXO_cn6NI42LMZefiTfVyemMcnsAblIfU-AO7mxZzKHolF4dKcihTjAmo2ArzhDl5IBrBjp_dqDnKUzK9g9qAOACxhYfotY93mNIQvQisWLwKgn7bNifeYgegmVbH1bOk0Mu2u8q60jr1GI7NLqqzUSyIoESlCNUcvnr894r5qiTWLRnSU-PBkFvk/s1454/unnamed%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1454" data-original-width="1451" height="533" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7pnXO_cn6NI42LMZefiTfVyemMcnsAblIfU-AO7mxZzKHolF4dKcihTjAmo2ArzhDl5IBrBjp_dqDnKUzK9g9qAOACxhYfotY93mNIQvQisWLwKgn7bNifeYgegmVbH1bOk0Mu2u8q60jr1GI7NLqqzUSyIoESlCNUcvnr894r5qiTWLRnSU-PBkFvk/w532-h533/unnamed%202.jpg" width="532" /></a></div><br /><p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Evacuees</span></b></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"><b>Sally Bavage writes:</b></span></p><p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Two year six
classes (ages 10 to 11) are studying War, and our commissioned poet James Nash
– pictured with class teachers Ms Bilioni and Mr Crossley – took up the theme
of Evacuees for this poetry project. As deputy head Mrs Green said when
introducing the work to the thirty or so parents and visitors who were able to
attend the mid-morning final presentations, <i>“Every year we are astounded by
the writing, the creativity and the trust that James produces from this
transformational project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are in for
a treat.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Sixty
youngsters read to us from their work, drafted, shared, edited and honed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A dozen read their whole poem, other just
their favourite selection. Think of the logistics of that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately, school teaching and support
staff are hugely supportive of what this project does for these young people
and help with achieving order and calm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes, some rattling pieces of paper held in hands shaking with nerves but
also some voices raised confidently and proudly even without the use of the
microphone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">As one parent confided
before the start: <i>“She has absolutely loved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She even read out some other poems to me at
breakfast this morning.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Another
confessed that his <i>“son was so proud of his poem and was looking forward to
performing it.”</i></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">The deeply
empathetic writing started off in a busy city station with young children being
evacuated to safety but leaving families and friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The youngsters wrote heartfelt descriptions
of what they sensed and felt as children from almost a century ago, with fresh
and sophisticated vocabulary that made you forget their youth and focus on
their engagement. Behaviour or learning difficulties entirely forgotten, they
were immersed in the place their writing took them.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">“I can
taste the salty tears in my mouth.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">“I feel the
embrace of my little sister.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">My dad is
in a gloomy graveyard, Lying in his deathbed.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">My life
story now turns another page.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">“Sometimes,
I want to go to the past.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Confusion,
fury, worry and hope; Nothing was perfect anymore.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">I can hear
my heart beating: thump, thump, thump.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">“I can
still taste my last meal with mother.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><i><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">“My life is
a new chapter, somewhere I've never been.”</span></i></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">I could go on
for pages with extracts from the children's work that demonstrate just how
closely they entered into the world of these Evacuees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ideas spilled out in sharing sessions and
were refined into work of which the children were so proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Ms Bilioni said, <i>“We've now got
Confidence with a capital C.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My class
has been asking me every morning if we are doing poetry. This work makes
creative writing accessible to all; James wrote his own exemplar poem at a
range of levels to encourage them all that they too could join in.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Mr Crossley said, <i>“I'm really looking
forward to next year!”</i></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">And the
children?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One girl had enjoyed the
sharing of ideas and planning her poem carefully, another young chap had looked
forward to performing his work and a third had absolutely exploded with ideas
he could see in his mind's eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>“I'll
remember the fun we had”</i> and <i>“It was good to see a poem grown from our
first ideas”</i>, as well as finding that poems don't have to rhyme but they
have rhythm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just where will these young
people go with insights like that?</span></p><p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">November 2023 <br /></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b>Thanks are given to Leeds City Council's Inner North West area management committee for funding this work once again.</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXUdDpKpbB8qsf5i5lBuensxMGgaVJwnx7fsctnmsiB5mMv-Ixcw2LNpvvZUsB0NiNhOObTtZ2VI8VS_8ZXncSYpfn_Yv320ca9ryJC2IMHFNtEzhi7k-4MPWDZyQtqUTBSApppufy27uE4_XboQPNA60Qfzb26Y0cjBEzBfm94fGUgerRb53xX-f/s282/Leeds%20CC.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="282" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXUdDpKpbB8qsf5i5lBuensxMGgaVJwnx7fsctnmsiB5mMv-Ixcw2LNpvvZUsB0NiNhOObTtZ2VI8VS_8ZXncSYpfn_Yv320ca9ryJC2IMHFNtEzhi7k-4MPWDZyQtqUTBSApppufy27uE4_XboQPNA60Qfzb26Y0cjBEzBfm94fGUgerRb53xX-f/w182-h64/Leeds%20CC.jpg" width="182" /></a></div><br /><br /><b><br /></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj_jTYqM1l6eC-akuvusOiK7-6qA6vrUmemQHCYftnZTX98VrKCe1Vak50EzlOJXiUi5JH93LsivrXl8H4MLINN88oNPlccd6xrLDTEJSfR9LNWikokePcCX0n5JGmx1ESYejz-7BFsQZfx2PSR6WdlfAc64bFb3iGFiEbP87YCTORh5RMucbA8UB/s168/Community%20logo.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="110" data-original-width="168" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj_jTYqM1l6eC-akuvusOiK7-6qA6vrUmemQHCYftnZTX98VrKCe1Vak50EzlOJXiUi5JH93LsivrXl8H4MLINN88oNPlccd6xrLDTEJSfR9LNWikokePcCX0n5JGmx1ESYejz-7BFsQZfx2PSR6WdlfAc64bFb3iGFiEbP87YCTORh5RMucbA8UB/w129-h85/Community%20logo.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-47493019748032082142023-09-26T14:53:00.004+01:002024-01-12T09:04:47.642+00:00Linda Marshall's new collection<p><span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes described as Headingley's poet laureate, Linda Marshall is launching HEADINGLEY HULLABALOO on SATURDAY 4 NOVEMBER at HEART in Bennett Road, Leeds 6.</span></p><div dir="auto" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The book is a new collection of poems celebrating the delights and quirks of Headingley past and present. It will be in the Shire Oak Room, arranged café style. You are invited to arrive from 3pm, with the performance beginning at 3.30pm. It's free entry, but donations are welcome to pay for the room.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div dir="auto" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Performers are <span style="font-family: inherit;"></span>Maggie Mash and Jane Oakshott (from Trio Literati), with Peter Spafford providing music.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div dir="auto" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTV6_oHyFk5lGDWXZigBL1WwlPSq8AeN6lLc0LIpAdTw68x7M954naEuP-ERGZoSGWYm7A2IEGaYiNhI60NiHLDzpBvUytkiSo_oFtd8ia4cIZCo8SzpJSElmMN-qHq3ET7nXWnOeIgSzPsNZeV647dFLSc7Mm5URjrKFXPEmdvKZu4PC53iwo_QEOqVE/s673/linda%20marshall%20%20photo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="673" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTV6_oHyFk5lGDWXZigBL1WwlPSq8AeN6lLc0LIpAdTw68x7M954naEuP-ERGZoSGWYm7A2IEGaYiNhI60NiHLDzpBvUytkiSo_oFtd8ia4cIZCo8SzpJSElmMN-qHq3ET7nXWnOeIgSzPsNZeV647dFLSc7Mm5URjrKFXPEmdvKZu4PC53iwo_QEOqVE/w363-h361/linda%20marshall%20%20photo.jpg" width="363" /></a></div><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgSvQ0LF7xDM-ScQqi_gt5_KqqNGn6zZ72YTC16XEtE996wWw1Y6vCd13Fc_NOMnLzqnKLxAtUr6pUigSCUH5F7g46wxrmYEvAkTPrr6JBEqyWOHEwCxrNO9sCxmpwjHQRuoeo4BdazO0VsUohBEng7u3SoDEYTuY-aMjIvLfMzZqT1tHZdEV0_ujiwAk/s1168/hh%20front%20cover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1168" data-original-width="1095" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgSvQ0LF7xDM-ScQqi_gt5_KqqNGn6zZ72YTC16XEtE996wWw1Y6vCd13Fc_NOMnLzqnKLxAtUr6pUigSCUH5F7g46wxrmYEvAkTPrr6JBEqyWOHEwCxrNO9sCxmpwjHQRuoeo4BdazO0VsUohBEng7u3SoDEYTuY-aMjIvLfMzZqT1tHZdEV0_ujiwAk/w356-h380/hh%20front%20cover.jpg" width="356" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /> </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-64297687256292649342023-09-05T17:25:00.004+01:002024-01-12T10:27:39.224+00:00Restless Souls by Ronnie Brown - Review<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Sally Bavage writes:</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;">Art is in the eye of the beholder, they say. Or in the view of the forensic scientist called in to investigate a puzzling death. Add in an art history lecturer who is under something of a cloud and some complex fraud. Oh, and death threats. You have an interesting debut novel by Ronnie Brown.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;"><br /></span></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM18UJerOZFJOjxFQVQJ9MY3lhCefUAPrQXdGyE1Hh9yTZTU1ioAnWYSAnVWfKrwXSEC6iw8kC9tOfg97k4L_nal9e6hoiOJ9oIRnZ5sO1pT0bejyrG26PxSPi3zjlEpu8uPYxc_r3iRi6RbiCJOc_fXhHraSSXVLOe3eoiOzsMJJ7kT5t4QjjbO4QEps/s400/Restless%20Souls.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM18UJerOZFJOjxFQVQJ9MY3lhCefUAPrQXdGyE1Hh9yTZTU1ioAnWYSAnVWfKrwXSEC6iw8kC9tOfg97k4L_nal9e6hoiOJ9oIRnZ5sO1pT0bejyrG26PxSPi3zjlEpu8uPYxc_r3iRi6RbiCJOc_fXhHraSSXVLOe3eoiOzsMJJ7kT5t4QjjbO4QEps/s320/Restless%20Souls.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;"><i style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><i>Restless Souls</i></span><span> follows the fortunes, if his adventures can be so described, of jaded art history lecturer R I Penny, whose witty exploration of the 'painter'</span><span> </span><span>Hertz van Rental didn't amuse management and put him under observation. Add in a mysterious file detailing complex financial transactions he doesn't quite grasp left anonymously in his pigeonhole. Season this mix with some dodgy acquaintances, quite a bit of psychological analysis of painting and its messages, a police investigation that isn't all it seems and an embittered former student who may be stalking our hero. You have a complex narrative that moves along with a cracking pace and some surprising turns of events.</span></span></div></span></div></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8667px; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: verdana;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8667px; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: verdana;">The writing style has echoes of Terry Darlington's <i>Narrow Dog to Carcassonne</i>, or Raymond Chandler's Marlowe. Short sentences, elliptical asides and rapid developments move the story along in short chapters that, rather like Dickens, leave you with frequent cliffhangers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8667px; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: verdana;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8667px; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: verdana;">References to his colleagues at Beckett polyversity are rarely flattering and in a serving member of staff would begin to look like a long letter of resignation. There are one or two plot holes - why blow up a church? Is the love interest to be followed up? And the psychobabble can be a bit overwhelming towards the finale.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8667px; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: verdana;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8667px; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: verdana;">However, it is clear that Ronnie Brown knows and loves his artworks, and is a master raconteur. A discussion of this book could lead in many directions!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8667px; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8667px; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: verdana;">To buy the book from Waterstones, click here</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">:</span></span></p></div><p><a href=" https://www.waterstones.com/book/restless-souls/ronnie-brown/9781803780559"> https://www.waterstones.com/book/restless-souls/ronnie-brown/9781803780559</a></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-33928807148531050342023-06-30T14:47:00.003+01:002023-06-30T14:47:52.492+01:00Good Luck, Malika!<p> Good luck to Malika Booker, whose poem Libation has been shortlisted for this year's Forward Prize for a single poem! Malika has been part of our Poetry in Schools project for seven years, running sessions at Brudenell Primary School. See the write-ups on this blog. Here's the poem:</p><a class="x1fey0fg xmper1u x1edh9d7" href="https://www.forwardartsfoundation.org/forward-prizes-for-poetry/malika-booker-libation/" referrerpolicy="origin">https://www.forwardartsfoundation.org/forward-prizes-for-poetry/malika-booker-libation/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-31842416447604945972023-03-28T16:06:00.004+01:002024-01-12T09:05:54.178+00:00Memories in a Suitcase at Brudenell Primary School<p><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Richard Wilcocks writes:</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">At the start of the first of three sessions on identity and memories, poet <b>#MalikaBooker</b> spoke about family memories with an enthusiastic class made up of a mixture of nine, ten and eleven year-olds, with their teacher Tom Nutman. Most of them recognised the situation when she read her poem about shopping in Brixton market with her grandma as a child. She followed with another of her poems – ‘Letting Go’ – about a cat that had to be given away when she was born. So did she always write about her early life?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">“It’s not all about my life,’ she said. “Sometimes it’s about things which haven’t happened and sometimes it’s about a very short moment. Or another person’s whole life! Whatever you’re writing about you’ll have to think about details and imagery.” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDAIxBH-Y7fNakqE4bD1N7ArcQTtMNjKrR1Dbb3Q21t043q8OSLfYzC7RIEfbj7zDhKOCW5UPae8TpsFmdDHo6PlguoMxoxUhl882p_HJEnRCsjzkOE_NZrlBpmG-ETGCrjObyZcl-iZrKJI11qXNCdWdHNuiiULHcNwpCbvU8zwRyaNga2KT_jA6T/s2592/Brudenell%2023%20Pupil%202.JPG" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1936" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDAIxBH-Y7fNakqE4bD1N7ArcQTtMNjKrR1Dbb3Q21t043q8OSLfYzC7RIEfbj7zDhKOCW5UPae8TpsFmdDHo6PlguoMxoxUhl882p_HJEnRCsjzkOE_NZrlBpmG-ETGCrjObyZcl-iZrKJI11qXNCdWdHNuiiULHcNwpCbvU8zwRyaNga2KT_jA6T/w323-h432/Brudenell%2023%20Pupil%202.JPG" width="323" /></a></span></div><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br />She asked the children what they could see from a window at home. There was a shower of responses – people walking past, cats and dogs, houses, the mosque. “Now try making it easier for people to imagine what you saw. Give more details. Houses built with red bricks? A large, brown, hairy dog? A mosque with a dome? Try using metaphors? Using your five senses?”<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">The rest of the session was devoted to painting pictures in someone’s mind, using descriptive words and comparisons. A scruffy dog? A green dome? Happy, smiling people? A child thin as a pencil? And what about abstractions? What does jealousy taste like? What does love look like?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">A few days later, during the second session, Malika asked the class to consider the idea that if you had to leave home and couldn’t go back, which five things would you take in a suitcase? ‘Suitcase’ , the lead poem in a collection with the same name by #<b>RogerRobinson</b> * was distributed and read out. The children made lists. Food and entertainment were important practical considerations at first – sandwiches, chocolate bars, bags of lentils, board games – but after Malika’s prompting, the importance of significant memories began to be appreciated. Books of photos. Special friends. Specific moments of happiness with parents, brothers and sisters which are fixed in the brain. Loving relationships.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Tom Nutman</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> stepped in to explain that this was going to have a lot to do with work next term on metaphors and that he would follow up the work started with Malika in the next few days. Malika said she was really looking forward to hearing the class’s ‘list poems’ or 'suitcase poems' when she came in for the third and final session, because she had been delighted with the imaginative efforts made so far. She warned the class they would have to be brave. All four adults present - Malika, Tom, myself and Learning Support Assistant <b>Nasira Mirza</b> echoed the warning, following it with reassurances.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><li><i>Suitcase</i> (poetry), <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flipped_Eye_Publishing" title="Flipped Eye Publishing">Flipped Eye Publishing</a>, 2005. <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)" title="ISBN (identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0954224776" title="Special:BookSources/978-0954224776">978-0954224776</a></li><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">The finale came a week later. It took place in the gym. Malika knows a few things about nerves before a performance, so she spent the first fifteen minutes of the rehearsal putting into practice a few of the techniques she has learned over the years. The fledgeling poets had to become spoken word artists. They stood up to plant their feet firmly and take a really deep breath, stepped out front to deliver the first line of their poem in a loud voice to Mr Nutman standing at the far end of the gym and played a hilarious circle game involving throwing an imaginary ball to be caught be a friend.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiEhccMaL7N4R9C91G0nU0VPvkehtr0yXDsTtlfX-9fjxhAsr7j1UjTlAbEPvYrmHORRAhOJt-PkCnrDSrgDW0PY66J939JcMRu082qbsRoMRk2A2RpZebHNdowKXptdb0-9dGcq5UQWNfsSFEeSa1W0b2JDLzo-gXY8eH47y9nGC5AltI1Noin77/s2592/Brudenell%20child.JPG" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1936" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiEhccMaL7N4R9C91G0nU0VPvkehtr0yXDsTtlfX-9fjxhAsr7j1UjTlAbEPvYrmHORRAhOJt-PkCnrDSrgDW0PY66J939JcMRu082qbsRoMRk2A2RpZebHNdowKXptdb0-9dGcq5UQWNfsSFEeSa1W0b2JDLzo-gXY8eH47y9nGC5AltI1Noin77/w299-h400/Brudenell%20child.JPG" width="299" /></a></span></div><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">The show was like a happy dream. Several children who had said that they just could not go through with it the day before were transformed into confident performers. Nasira explained to me that she had been concerned about one boy who had been flushed and trembling twenty-four hours previously but who had read his poem out with no apparent problems. And the smiling faces proved that the whole business was really enjoyable. Camera phones were in evidence too, pointed by mothers at sons and daughters, by children at friends and by Mr Nutman himself, who operated the school's video camera. This was an experience not to be forgotten in a hurry.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><b></b></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Kw8bZizFnu2nXOIwB6KGBZyQ01C3LQhlg906AtC4JBlq-wkIIWy-Q7YEc3HiD5r_pKuDF1R8pGRNKocYnXoM7DQjm2xwG91bYuhfofnPAJPXK-4LEScPhT0G2FIerWlUyb29bCMkmpsyG5zljjY5r9UmH1DLnb0tPn9TlIQ0x0FJfdxbHTE_MRKe/s2592/Brudenell%20adult%20group.JPG" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1936" height="565" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Kw8bZizFnu2nXOIwB6KGBZyQ01C3LQhlg906AtC4JBlq-wkIIWy-Q7YEc3HiD5r_pKuDF1R8pGRNKocYnXoM7DQjm2xwG91bYuhfofnPAJPXK-4LEScPhT0G2FIerWlUyb29bCMkmpsyG5zljjY5r9UmH1DLnb0tPn9TlIQ0x0FJfdxbHTE_MRKe/w423-h565/Brudenell%20adult%20group.JPG" width="423" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tom Nutman, Jill Harland and Nasira Mirza with Malika</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b></span><div><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Comments from those present included:</span></b></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>It is vital for us as educators that we create as many opportunities as possible for our young people to be inspired by and to produce poetry. and to express themselves creatively. Thankyou, Malika! (Headteacher Jill Harland)</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>I am so proud of you. The poetry was great and your confidence in speaking in public has grown. (Tom Nutman)</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>Young poets' dream! This will be the making of them! (Nasira Mirza)</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>They need it for high school confidence. It's huge for them, a massive achievement! (Shaza, parent)</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b>Thanks are given to Leeds City Council's Inner North West area management committee for funding this work once again.</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXUdDpKpbB8qsf5i5lBuensxMGgaVJwnx7fsctnmsiB5mMv-Ixcw2LNpvvZUsB0NiNhOObTtZ2VI8VS_8ZXncSYpfn_Yv320ca9ryJC2IMHFNtEzhi7k-4MPWDZyQtqUTBSApppufy27uE4_XboQPNA60Qfzb26Y0cjBEzBfm94fGUgerRb53xX-f/s282/Leeds%20CC.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="282" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXUdDpKpbB8qsf5i5lBuensxMGgaVJwnx7fsctnmsiB5mMv-Ixcw2LNpvvZUsB0NiNhOObTtZ2VI8VS_8ZXncSYpfn_Yv320ca9ryJC2IMHFNtEzhi7k-4MPWDZyQtqUTBSApppufy27uE4_XboQPNA60Qfzb26Y0cjBEzBfm94fGUgerRb53xX-f/w182-h64/Leeds%20CC.jpg" width="182" /></a></div><br /><br /><b><br /></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj_jTYqM1l6eC-akuvusOiK7-6qA6vrUmemQHCYftnZTX98VrKCe1Vak50EzlOJXiUi5JH93LsivrXl8H4MLINN88oNPlccd6xrLDTEJSfR9LNWikokePcCX0n5JGmx1ESYejz-7BFsQZfx2PSR6WdlfAc64bFb3iGFiEbP87YCTORh5RMucbA8UB/s168/Community%20logo.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="110" data-original-width="168" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj_jTYqM1l6eC-akuvusOiK7-6qA6vrUmemQHCYftnZTX98VrKCe1Vak50EzlOJXiUi5JH93LsivrXl8H4MLINN88oNPlccd6xrLDTEJSfR9LNWikokePcCX0n5JGmx1ESYejz-7BFsQZfx2PSR6WdlfAc64bFb3iGFiEbP87YCTORh5RMucbA8UB/w129-h85/Community%20logo.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-59102175778166778492023-03-22T15:58:00.010+00:002023-03-27T09:46:18.912+01:00A Journey - at Quarry Mount Primary School<p><b> Sarah Andrews writes:</b></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><b>#James Nash</b>, the poet commissioned by Headingley LitFest to work with youngsters in local primary schools, has been visiting Quarry Mount primary school for about a decade. Each time he visits is different: different year group, teacher, class or topic This time it was the Second World War and the theme of a journey, leaving family in a targeted city for the safety of a place with no bombs.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">As headteacher Rebecca Pettman confided, for some of the pupils this was a reality they have already experienced: a number of her pupils come from the middle East. A sobering thought.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJ9jS83GlR2DMZv6acT-qQsceKG2L6fplRbYmaVS96ZcKGPtBX-hym-PjIcGbm9FoG3IlH0cHpL8Tt58pRf28AgxM98rsE5qVNRWkwDXWL0os2qK3SO4kFTAH90ODnDVi657iQanLSdqEGiCiBpps21kKRML-UN30gyEgtvnK_cDKS1U4XNbUW19I/s4002/Quarry%20Mount%20March%202023%202.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4002" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJ9jS83GlR2DMZv6acT-qQsceKG2L6fplRbYmaVS96ZcKGPtBX-hym-PjIcGbm9FoG3IlH0cHpL8Tt58pRf28AgxM98rsE5qVNRWkwDXWL0os2qK3SO4kFTAH90ODnDVi657iQanLSdqEGiCiBpps21kKRML-UN30gyEgtvnK_cDKS1U4XNbUW19I/s320/Quarry%20Mount%20March%202023%202.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Evacuees</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;"> was a theme that brought out “some brilliant creative writing, a lot of empathy and imagination, as well as some extraordinary lines of prose poetry.” Class 5 teacher <b>Kirsty Moleele</b> (pictured with James) was just so impressed with the work that James had drawn out of the pupils with his work on setting a scene, getting her class to draft and edit, and sharing with first themselves and then with a whole school assembly which included a dozen or so parents. </span></div><p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;">Personal journeys in courage for the youngsters too. We were warned that “Some lines are heart-breaking, get the tissues ready.” The class was complimented on the bravery involved in sharing their work with each other and then the whole school, trying to find their 'playground voices' despite nerves.</p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Hopes, fears, terrors, and longing were evident in every poem. Lines like:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">'I want peace to begin and the war to end'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">'I miss my old life'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">'Why does war even exist?'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">'Freedom has gone away'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">‘It was time to say goodbye to my life before, My happy memories of the past'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">'I'm worried my dad will be hurt or killed'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">'I can taste bitter depression in my freezing mouth as the sky is lit by the fires of the German bombs'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">'I hug my mum as it may be the last hug I will get from her'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">'Pain is all I know, children parted from their family'<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">These children are only nine or ten years old and some of the writing is clearly born out of experience. Writing poetry about difficult experiences in a collaborative 'safe space' like school can be healing.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Every member of the class read out some or all of the lines they had crafted, with various degrees of growing confidence as shyness gave way to pride in achievement.</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">One boy, who finds reading a challenge, was supported by the trainee teacher and almost burst with pride as he read out his whole poem. While one girl, for whom English is her second language, glowed with pleasure as she contributed along with her classmates. Would the school want to do this again?</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Loud sound of cheers and shouts of 'Yes!'</span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Thanks are given to Leeds City Council's Inner North West area management committee for funding this work once again.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Khp-bi1XCEIWkUrxtj_E7KyfSI3HcXEtpkadNysUjvXKq2VyWq3drvNkBnuX4HBNRIuVruWjAcp8UBDXiIic_ZBtOMfVoUcv8qFHv3Y1ad5XXbnbUjRP6OVPGfYSbLKHJiLvYdCqUtJStG44fMaJ-eFz1bYBkl3zTZDl2XtuYpNpv1ZykL5fx8Qr/s282/Leeds%20CC.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="282" height="63" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Khp-bi1XCEIWkUrxtj_E7KyfSI3HcXEtpkadNysUjvXKq2VyWq3drvNkBnuX4HBNRIuVruWjAcp8UBDXiIic_ZBtOMfVoUcv8qFHv3Y1ad5XXbnbUjRP6OVPGfYSbLKHJiLvYdCqUtJStG44fMaJ-eFz1bYBkl3zTZDl2XtuYpNpv1ZykL5fx8Qr/w179-h63/Leeds%20CC.jpg" width="179" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeTKNKORTHi20cPrxlgJzBpIEWS3rMmetHfXhkzomi-wDaQWecnyc9rJpLWR3iaLwX8BieaJZjnOWLc1h8jYjd4FuabGw7xm4e_EHqSe3gAC_gAFfVBbMNNuE8TK2hr5L_iw09YAg_h-OcUpi93ErXWpawTv0-Zb7XTY7g5AFuHUJayu0foXyQBM4/s168/Community%20logo.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="110" data-original-width="168" height="78" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeTKNKORTHi20cPrxlgJzBpIEWS3rMmetHfXhkzomi-wDaQWecnyc9rJpLWR3iaLwX8BieaJZjnOWLc1h8jYjd4FuabGw7xm4e_EHqSe3gAC_gAFfVBbMNNuE8TK2hr5L_iw09YAg_h-OcUpi93ErXWpawTv0-Zb7XTY7g5AFuHUJayu0foXyQBM4/w120-h78/Community%20logo.jpg" width="120" /></a></div></div><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-71469942919436008472023-03-15T13:14:00.003+00:002023-03-15T13:22:14.989+00:00Rubbish work at Weetwood Primary School<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">They say to
beware the Ides of March but before Shakespeare's doomladen warning to Julius
Caesar 15<sup>th</sup> March was known for celebrating the first full moon of
the year that falls in the middle of the month with drinking, picnics and
festivities.</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">We partook of
no drink, and the late snowfall outside certainly did not encourage outdoor
feasting, but we did celebrate the poetry written by class 5 based on their
trip to a rubbish recycling plant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
class performed their original work in front of many of their parents, shyly at
first and then with increasing aplomb. Indeed, there was a clamour to read all
their verses after each child had read a selected verse. Joanne Parker, class
teacher, was both delighted and stunned by the quality of the writing and the
extraordinary self-confidence that some of her class unexpectedly showed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV0SsArDnRSu4idHc7ehrWwC-tCH2FmZG4xKSdePr7e5Uo67TNMlNoi-HewSICkH7a_SBexohCx1WXT5OEsTSO4LgIGX2c53xRvl5OJfPykSgzVObaIxaTdSZCD7h9N7r0aC-y26TQDP0LneAsKWDt6tQfLRlnR7pzpfu8c3tHj98wM9CjYH6AjmON/s4080/IMG_20230315_103520054_MFNR.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV0SsArDnRSu4idHc7ehrWwC-tCH2FmZG4xKSdePr7e5Uo67TNMlNoi-HewSICkH7a_SBexohCx1WXT5OEsTSO4LgIGX2c53xRvl5OJfPykSgzVObaIxaTdSZCD7h9N7r0aC-y26TQDP0LneAsKWDt6tQfLRlnR7pzpfu8c3tHj98wM9CjYH6AjmON/s320/IMG_20230315_103520054_MFNR.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">James Nash and Joanne Parker</span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"><br />“Dad, you've
just got to come” was a common theme amongst the many parents waiting to be
admitted to a tightly-packed class assembly with standing room only.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They agreed that their children had been
excited about the workshops with <b>James Nash</b>, local writer and poet - and
proud to show their writing and their performances to their families. One carer
said “She struggled with reading before this but has absolutely grown in
confidence” since her work on this topic. Another commented on the thought
given to the vocabulary and metaphors her child had used, followig the rubbish
to its end as ash and energy.</span><p></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">The fear of a
blank page had been banished by inspiration, drafting, editing and creation of
quality pieces of writing they were keen to share. New vocabulary was
translated into powerful prose poems as we heard of jostling and ominous
journeys by abandoned food and clothing tossed and tumbled into the dark bucket
of doom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Delivered to the jaws of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a menacing dragon and into the licking flames
of his empty stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Household goods assassinated
by a sea of terror. Menacing and scavenging machines whose claws show no
mercy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heated like a barbecue.
Escape?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopeless!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">It was clear
that not only had the youngsters really taken the concept of recycling to heart
but that the message was most powerful through the medium of poetry. Reduce,
reuse and recycle was never so eloquently expressed or understood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Three weeks ago I was an amazing hat but now
...”</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Would Mrs
Parker, class teacher, like to recycle this idea and do it again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absolutely!</span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif">Thanks are
given to Leeds City Council's Inner North West area management committee for
funding this work once again.</span></b></p><p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"> </span></b></p><p class="Standard"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzocIgkvdTVvsZzvuPF6HT6I7Qo320ky2sSskqkgvFgsJK5EFvrqPFO0OEdz8TdBE7eu-GnVzyF18Vxq3qe1TrCReKhD1yglMlQ7jPl76WYwDFEAkazrXvXGGYYNIbjgS_VkcTP9AiamcVyu_LZ9CsO4FtfWncB_In8JjDENuVhUL1FiII3VWnDJRa/s282/Leeds%20CC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="282" height="71" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzocIgkvdTVvsZzvuPF6HT6I7Qo320ky2sSskqkgvFgsJK5EFvrqPFO0OEdz8TdBE7eu-GnVzyF18Vxq3qe1TrCReKhD1yglMlQ7jPl76WYwDFEAkazrXvXGGYYNIbjgS_VkcTP9AiamcVyu_LZ9CsO4FtfWncB_In8JjDENuVhUL1FiII3VWnDJRa/w201-h71/Leeds%20CC.jpg" width="201" /></a></span></b></div><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXTEZpjZqjf7z0zaV1CcqjLhL0B-PsBPkhuAjsieI0RhuV5DtGpJdnl6Fl_wrSCAz_8ehwZOVckTBXRfQLv6ihHyd-blej6p-PfDKeYVoE7Ifr4z7mFzbwI5w5mQhzgiLKHxTLLbHznLM-niwJNxUH1xiAqFlNdl1OhLQx_-kLT-RwTRdIQzNGuFJ/s168/Community%20logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="110" data-original-width="168" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXTEZpjZqjf7z0zaV1CcqjLhL0B-PsBPkhuAjsieI0RhuV5DtGpJdnl6Fl_wrSCAz_8ehwZOVckTBXRfQLv6ihHyd-blej6p-PfDKeYVoE7Ifr4z7mFzbwI5w5mQhzgiLKHxTLLbHznLM-niwJNxUH1xiAqFlNdl1OhLQx_-kLT-RwTRdIQzNGuFJ/s1600/Community%20logo.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><br /> </span></b><p></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-1792581772186053102023-03-07T16:12:00.001+00:002023-03-09T09:53:28.123+00:00Heartline Writers - Phenomenal Woman<p><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Poetry, stories and singing for International Women’s Day</b></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><b>Richard Wilcocks writes:</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">In Headingley’s Heart Centre, the Shire Oak Hall was full. A Powerpoint display was beginning on the large screen, ready to inform those present of the names of poets and their poems, and the now-traditional table of home-made cakes was in position at the back of the audience. This event is well-established, an essential part of the local calendar. <b>Liz McPherson</b> introduced the proceedings.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZElwOP9RDAStyuvZpwfAQPcQCFv2Ul1X6etLFF077xEg8Dy2f37UAoKsVaSMsVfZkDHxVCuJpapnyI00Kb59wxZGTtJVbY-lFjGUNt3VBHOZUMArLaL3YG34Y6E4PQLtsIN7hZgu6cUdMpZxb5nDGWsps7Lakh93eLwmsiI1xt9_ufPRoipvQ4-g0/s4939/Heartlines%202023-03-07.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3322" data-original-width="4939" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZElwOP9RDAStyuvZpwfAQPcQCFv2Ul1X6etLFF077xEg8Dy2f37UAoKsVaSMsVfZkDHxVCuJpapnyI00Kb59wxZGTtJVbY-lFjGUNt3VBHOZUMArLaL3YG34Y6E4PQLtsIN7hZgu6cUdMpZxb5nDGWsps7Lakh93eLwmsiI1xt9_ufPRoipvQ4-g0/w640-h430/Heartlines%202023-03-07.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Photo by Richard Wilcocks</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">First image on the screen was of Malala Yousafzai, the Pakistani activist who was shot in the head by the Taliban for publicly advocating education for women and girls, but who fortunately recovered from her wounds to become world famous. <b>Karen Byrne</b> had her in mind when she read her poem <i>Afghan</i>, which is in the style of a letter of protest – ‘I have to hide my face/ I have to forget my dreams’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Eileen Neil</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> read two poems. She acknowledged that she had been influenced by Maya Angelou in writing <i>The Call</i>, which contains a list of legendary women from a range of cultures. It ends with ‘They are coming – the Rainbow Generation’. She was inspired by a violin concerto by Michael Daugherty entitled <i>Blue Elektra</i> to write a poem with the same name. Its subject is Amelia Earhart, mysteriously lost somewhere in the Pacific while trying to circumnavigate the world in 1937.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Cate Anderson</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> gave us another true story entitled <i>Refuge</i>, which emerged from her extensive research. This was full of information (and reminders) about what it was like in 1971 in England, when people tended to make statements like ‘Marriage is the high point of a woman’s life’ while not doing much of a practical nature about domestic violence. Activist Erin Pizzey was mentioned as a pioneer, the founder of a domestic violence shelter in a two-bed derelict house in West London, which expanded and led to the establishment of many others.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Jackie Parsons’s</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> poem <i>Chocolate Cakes and Atom Bombs</i> provided us with the fascinating image of the nuclear physicist Robert Oppenheimer sitting in a café in Los Alamos, his mouth full of the cake sold by the owner, Edith Warner. This was followed by <i>Woman</i>, a memoir poem about her beloved nan.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Bill Fitzsimons</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> presented us with his poem <i>Greta</i>, about the famous environmental campaigner. Her surname, according to Bill, should be ‘Thunderberg’. His other poem was <i>Universal Mother</i>, about what mothers have to endure: ‘the price is paid by woman’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Marie Paule Sheard</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> took us to India for her fact-packed <i>Story of Mrs Phule and Fatima Sheikh. </i>These were two nineteenth-century campaigners who challenged ancient beliefs and customs connected with Caste and religion, when ‘the only value of women was the dowry and the siring of boys’’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSiHpvXJ1teHyAY7Of26dhI0jiGXsJPOFyLzo50a6SvScorZr_JxGBy93uYEfOz-EhGuLyAJ2G8jrMhjSyk_ccfWOF7pr4aBj8KXa8zwVx68pEa-ImZ16waFRi1RkSkcA08DHGTtFwhmtfWciFGjUl28xn1hqFnnbZlYmQju5vKtQVXShj2dFC0Ji/s5336/Harissa%202023-03-07.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3487" data-original-width="5336" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSiHpvXJ1teHyAY7Of26dhI0jiGXsJPOFyLzo50a6SvScorZr_JxGBy93uYEfOz-EhGuLyAJ2G8jrMhjSyk_ccfWOF7pr4aBj8KXa8zwVx68pEa-ImZ16waFRi1RkSkcA08DHGTtFwhmtfWciFGjUl28xn1hqFnnbZlYmQju5vKtQVXShj2dFC0Ji/w555-h363/Harissa%202023-03-07.jpg" width="555" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Photo by Richard Wilcocks</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Acapella group <b>Harissa</b> (pictured above) then stepped forward, ten well-rehearsed women. In amongst folk songs, they sang a beautiful madrigal composed by John Wilbye in the late sixteenth century. That must have taken some special rehearsing! With an excellent balance of high and low voices, it was fit for a queen, as it had to be four centuries ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Linda Marshall</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">, well-known to Headingley LitFest and to poetry groups far and wide, appeared on the screen as she was unable to be present. <i>The Coat </i>was about seemingly ordinary women who are really extraordinary, and <i>The New Housekeeper</i> is an amusing account of a rebellious woman who causes havoc, changing the locks and ‘calling up her cavalry of cutlery’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Barbara Lawton</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> presented an account of the life of Dr Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, born in Whitechapel, London in 1836. She was faced with all the usual prejudices when she was wanting to become a doctor, but she eventually made it, founding a hospital for women staffed by women near Euston Station.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Myrna Moore’s</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> poem <i>Nanny of the Maroons</i>, about a key rebel woman in Jamaica’s history, begins with the line ‘She grabbed a cudgel’ and ends with ‘She likkle but she Tallawah’, an expression which can be used for the island of Jamaica as well. Tallawah is patois for strong. The second poem was <i>Bertha</i>, the ‘mad woman in the attic’ in Charlotte Brontë’s <i>Jane Eyre</i>, who was brought to England from the Caribbean. Her actual name, according to Jean Rhys’s 1966 novel <i>The Wide Sargasso Sea</i> is Antoinette, and the poet adopts her voice to describe her life with Rochester ‘guarded like an escaped prisoner’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Dru Long</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> took us to Iran in <i>Woman Life Freedom</i>, mindful of the brave women there who resist their theocratic government’s harsh laws about wearing head coverings. She connected the women who have died at the hands of the ‘morality police’ with famous suffragettes of the early twentieth century who died for the cause, like Emily Davison in 1913.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Malcolm Henshall</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> was influenced in writing his poem <i>Mother and Child</i> by his professional life as a Special School teacher before he retired. Many of the parents he encountered were single mothers. He admitted worrying about his ability to write poetry, but he needn’t have, because his play with the words tears, fears and cares was terrific, the rhymes and repetitions working well. His <i>Angels</i>, a short piece about nurses, drew plenty of applause: ‘applause don’t pay the bills’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Liz McPherson</span></b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> returned for the final reading. <i>This is Reconstruction </i>was a moving poem about her grandma, remembered as ‘clicking her teeth like knitting needles’. The second poem <i>Vade Mecum</i> was like a book of memories, rather confessional but ‘not just about me’. She revealed that she has not been to actual confession for fifty years. I can only gasp.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><b>Harissa </b>came back to finish off an enjoyably mind-stimulating morning show with <i>Girls just wanna have fun.</i> Surely we don’t have to wait another year for something like this.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-37579620703564452082023-03-06T11:50:00.004+00:002023-03-15T13:26:30.725+00:00'Where I live' at Shire Oak Primary School<p><b style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">The Poet’s Blog</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">It was World Book Day and I felt seriously underdressed. I was at Shire Oak Primary School , in Year 2’s classroom and I was surrounded by young people dressed as favourite characters from books. All the children had made such an effort, including Helen Barley the class teacher (pictured) who was in dragon costume.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was my final visit to the class, and we were about to get ready to share our work.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SqCtqNXk7ngmsThW6aAQbPgdxMvev72Yn4IY2vZtAUGzJUCYg1zdehdoT_I1VzgAmw5MYKugs-8hp4uolzbVDMtvy1GCGWuVBuIiXYHKNBPHAgVAL8M4AU2snSjRcEGcHyDEB_1vHzpEySNi823xn5gsj4VDOwSi0XEiwU4LjO2eWX3wxjdEVcog/s4032/unnamed.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SqCtqNXk7ngmsThW6aAQbPgdxMvev72Yn4IY2vZtAUGzJUCYg1zdehdoT_I1VzgAmw5MYKugs-8hp4uolzbVDMtvy1GCGWuVBuIiXYHKNBPHAgVAL8M4AU2snSjRcEGcHyDEB_1vHzpEySNi823xn5gsj4VDOwSi0XEiwU4LjO2eWX3wxjdEVcog/s320/unnamed.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">In previous sessions we had used the theme of ‘Where We Live’ to talk about the houses we lived in,</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">favourite buildings in Headingley and even favourite trees.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The enthusiasm of the children was boundless.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">In no time they had written their first ideas down and many of them had read their writing out to the whole class.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">We then talked about how to turn those initial ideas into a first draft of a poem by choosing their best lines and deciding on the best order to put them in. I showed them what I had done to turn my first ideas into a poem, knowing in my heart of hearts that some of the children’s writing, in its freshness and originality, would outstrip my own <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">We decided together that poems did not have to rhyme but that it was sometimes effective to have a rhythm running through them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">‘I would take a picture of everything’ one young poet began their writing,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"> and another wrote<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">‘my house has a cat<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">That is so red that<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">It warms me up<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">Every time I see him’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">And I have to pinch myself to remember that my young poets are only six or seven years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">On this final session we talk about what we have learned together, before finishing off our poems and getting ready to have them recorded so that parents can see what their children have achieved. They are very keen to share their work, particularly as they feel so proud of what they have written.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">One by one read some the whole poem or some a favourite line from their writing. They read beautifully, and I’m left with a wonderfully inspired feeling, with the final line of one poem still in my head as I walk home,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">‘My favorite tree<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">Is my apple tree in my back garden,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US">It welcomes me with a smile.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><b>#James Nash</b> 3<sup>rd</sup> March 2023<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPFAyAU5gT1Lq6OrWc2lySmUgMgGhrAhwFgsQUav_a3j5m2_TJUTnfGGausqWhkyP0oN2W81cMeXyiwfhRuEpHwZYPsCNU-SRHBbz7bI93sWXilFbQ5sBVCMHlIcjbUXGcfwuS65ko0lCXXR2xTmRRAE7KIi1xqBT28YwIWx3jNwxD6QbSXaJPYWnT/s2048/FqUEl92WwAEC02O.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPFAyAU5gT1Lq6OrWc2lySmUgMgGhrAhwFgsQUav_a3j5m2_TJUTnfGGausqWhkyP0oN2W81cMeXyiwfhRuEpHwZYPsCNU-SRHBbz7bI93sWXilFbQ5sBVCMHlIcjbUXGcfwuS65ko0lCXXR2xTmRRAE7KIi1xqBT28YwIWx3jNwxD6QbSXaJPYWnT/w271-h361/FqUEl92WwAEC02O.jpg" width="271" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7AfSL7l31Omz1oYkk76E8BEGiYsOfqsyx_mwXzeMosB7Q3vG2GJnsNPO17Jo0x1AeYIhN2VmOeMMPHHzKQi795MoCX-tl_WRuSIffZjwWJddrfHw1f725rMA2awzGox-S_tO6wVxPD5KY6DSkFOljw5DuZOcfRFfCvQSkUU4Ake8UTZ8WCqSeme4/s2048/FqUElqJXoBAy15c.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPkXVoKLFF0etoWeIqz-PpJmj0T0ovkXXGzjQkLqg3okJrVYdkLi0Co3CBTz1CzdRyrwPU2EQJZJqm_jvNmtnx-XWMih4b3o8raXDE2OiDltuiuWoRUHUrKy_8TBwHRA6gKBA9ZqeXDDYyky_A1BhcX_9jDea4nxB2uVLS7xPwVopyHlOEalKiXe1P/s2048/Shire%20Oak%20March%2023.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPkXVoKLFF0etoWeIqz-PpJmj0T0ovkXXGzjQkLqg3okJrVYdkLi0Co3CBTz1CzdRyrwPU2EQJZJqm_jvNmtnx-XWMih4b3o8raXDE2OiDltuiuWoRUHUrKy_8TBwHRA6gKBA9ZqeXDDYyky_A1BhcX_9jDea4nxB2uVLS7xPwVopyHlOEalKiXe1P/w279-h372/Shire%20Oak%20March%2023.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcw-XGQaGv5RN1_nDJXhpnyDgnli7nWuPfzgWtu9TXpHttZbgcQIZd47YGyMwBcx3IrpGJlk9X9WhJcPVYF-XnMo6_JMGPqZXqgYRe5vUQilKt6m5q8-_A70hk5oJzYkZWp4pC_gYvjjwNtyV3yplSKW5dYvdph1y-55FzRS-q3JM_FX6ZjWeLyMPg/s168/Community%20logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; 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font-size: 12pt;">Sally Bavage writes:</span> </b></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not a forecast but a foretaste as I was gusted into reception. Poetry written by year 3 this week provided all the considerations of weather you could want. Once again James Nash, local writer and poet, led the youngsters to explore their creativity and consider, write, edit and share their own writing, first amongst themselves and then as a finale in front of the whole school and around thirty parents and grandparents. At age seven or eight years old, would you have been confident doing that?!</span></div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9drEoiM9oB40aAUChp2ujRwszZ1SFNyINeiLE2X3RMMX6vtXb_8mmBpWPDUr2nQIbCjyzgwNVemwe71lUquYLc4DLKdL_BvlwUAE88juFKxkub-rQhfSkVOFJViNEEWcKKT8Lna9V4ak5vuQuv1_GBECQpDbky-bFmEGwtjvQQoyf2LkmItFCc_z/s4080/Spring%20Bank%20Jan%2022.jpg" referrerpolicy="origin" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9drEoiM9oB40aAUChp2ujRwszZ1SFNyINeiLE2X3RMMX6vtXb_8mmBpWPDUr2nQIbCjyzgwNVemwe71lUquYLc4DLKdL_BvlwUAE88juFKxkub-rQhfSkVOFJViNEEWcKKT8Lna9V4ak5vuQuv1_GBECQpDbky-bFmEGwtjvQQoyf2LkmItFCc_z/s320/Spring%20Bank%20Jan%2022.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">They mostly were and did. Yes, a few nerves beforehand and the odd wobbling lip, but aplomb took over and you'd never have guessed it from the confidence with which these petite poets read out their work to the audience. Some read out all their work, some read a snippet to give us a taste of their writing; all of them gave us imagery and occasionally a glimpse of the inner thespian as they relished their moment in the sun. Sorry, couldn't resist that.</span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">It's really a privilege to see how these pupils rise to the challenge and enjoy writing and declaiming their own work.</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The secret is that this project allows them to write about what interests them, and demonstrate what they can do – not quite always the case under the national curriculum.</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">This year group have had a hard time recently; you might call them the 'pandemic generation' as most of their schooling has been disrupted by absence and lack of continuity.</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Offering a free-flowing project to use poetry to inspire a joy in using the written word to express original ideas was a splendid gift, said class teacher Mrs Baruah.</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">She continued, “It's such a joy to see how they have risen to this challenge throughout this week as they contributed ideas, personal viewpoints and a chance to develop their vocabulary.</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">They gave us such trust.”</span> </p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"> </p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Class teaching assistant Adam Bickerdike added, “It has been so very rewarding to see how some pupils have really surprised us with their creativity and willingness to engage, even from the confines of autism.”</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Some of the parents and grandparents also confided just how delighted they were to have been invited by children both excited and nervous.It was fun,” Working with a real poet” and</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">“Poems don't have to rhyme” were some of many comments offered by the class.</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The project will now produce an anthology of all their work, even some contributions from the parents who were invited back to the classroom after the assembly (they all squeezed in somehow, delighted to be asked.)</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">They were then challenged to write some lines of their own to add to the anthology!</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">So the legacy of this work lives on, not just with the development of the creative writing process but a collection of the work and a talking point with parents and grandparents, some of whom expressed a desire to continue to follow up the poetry spark that had been ignited.</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Grateful thanks to the Inner North West area management committee of Leeds City Council, especially local councillors, who granted the funding for this work.</span></b></p></blockquote><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVYoVoA5ntysu4c7RFKJXW5hmq1xY2X7LCO-TxJuY_71aUqdT7H_IghmbzaGvNA8PBO0SWs_gqpIJyCsCNIIu20Dyyv3KoEu4Tpovwk3ktLqExbhV4daVlF_zlXKPxJsKtuv9Frdzpb9de4ST4n0axn7IRfajsAfrqZCDWKADbDN07vLYP7Wv-8SO_/s282/Leeds%20CC.jpg" imageanchor="1" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="282" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVYoVoA5ntysu4c7RFKJXW5hmq1xY2X7LCO-TxJuY_71aUqdT7H_IghmbzaGvNA8PBO0SWs_gqpIJyCsCNIIu20Dyyv3KoEu4Tpovwk3ktLqExbhV4daVlF_zlXKPxJsKtuv9Frdzpb9de4ST4n0axn7IRfajsAfrqZCDWKADbDN07vLYP7Wv-8SO_/s1600/Leeds%20CC.jpg" width="282" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNH8PArAT0ssWWHl7dAED6tISQkJ6z4s1RvApQAfV1CU4XIAKWAEH3QBFy6aw82zTsZ13eDS8znrkL6YyEG-s0OXLRCTG2CaafEcwLo5aP7NVOCkzxbSdxqU7FBLEXnLyh2qdAS-wp3UGlYx62NLklIjNR_W3oGkGQ9IjTBcmw4uDXcy-EWXVubjN3/s168/Community%20logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" referrerpolicy="origin" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="110" data-original-width="168" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNH8PArAT0ssWWHl7dAED6tISQkJ6z4s1RvApQAfV1CU4XIAKWAEH3QBFy6aw82zTsZ13eDS8znrkL6YyEG-s0OXLRCTG2CaafEcwLo5aP7NVOCkzxbSdxqU7FBLEXnLyh2qdAS-wp3UGlYx62NLklIjNR_W3oGkGQ9IjTBcmw4uDXcy-EWXVubjN3/s1600/Community%20logo.jpg" width="168" /></a></div></div><br /><br /> <p></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="Standard" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-68881505772164442692022-11-17T13:58:00.001+00:002022-11-17T14:26:18.446+00:00Beware of Greeks Bearing Gifts<p>
</p><h3><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Beware
of Greeks Bearing Gifts<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…</span></h3>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">… they say, but at <i>Ireland Wood primary school</i>
Apollo brought enchantment and poetic delight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A large plaster bust of the Greek god served up inspiration and the
starting point for creative writing of original poetry, carefully edited and
redrafted to produce honed and thoughtful poems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Live at the Apollo, reimagined.</span></p><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHZoObJCLqwyvMe805vxhFKSDF5RQZnWgrJrI12KbXuDGs5LTqiOtF6lmuFxDCzwg6969UnhEPxIuJJIKyML1e2OUHZuQwvZVtHrLC1c3s-ZpQkfCzQ42jXKbpUQfMn51RmXKpxDQUWL3bppS3jjSp-vnyvd_KKRKr3ElxsQL8r1PZ3SJKvrm_zr1/s4080/Greek%20gods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHZoObJCLqwyvMe805vxhFKSDF5RQZnWgrJrI12KbXuDGs5LTqiOtF6lmuFxDCzwg6969UnhEPxIuJJIKyML1e2OUHZuQwvZVtHrLC1c3s-ZpQkfCzQ42jXKbpUQfMn51RmXKpxDQUWL3bppS3jjSp-vnyvd_KKRKr3ElxsQL8r1PZ3SJKvrm_zr1/s320/Greek%20gods.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Local writer and poet <i>James Nash</i> worked his
own magic once again with sixty youngters in year 6 in his series of poetry
workshops culminating in a performance assembly in front of the classes in year
5.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and they were videoed so all
parents have access to the work that was produced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quite intimidating if you're only ten years
old, and you have to read out some or all of your poem to the listening
classes, teachers, support assistants and visitors present in the school hall.</span>
<p></p><p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Occasionally the nerves showed – shaking papers and
quavering voices – but most stepped up to the microphone and declaimed their
own words with brio and pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
though some had to stoop to reach the fixed microphone and others reach up to
ensure their words, literally their own words, were heard. The quality of the
vocabulary, the empathy and immersion in the world of ancient Athens was
astonishing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHMNxj2GcnXYwsgFljV0r-8fBYus_Mf1NuTpofw08rOeeWB3t6706qcvolTf4EN5O5QbkZg2yZ0q2SNPqNKs17_alpipM29-6P3vLGatHHJM8uZXkgnBj4YAgm2Opuea0dGfA2typJQySB3Re5UHKdoKM8zgghz1GbgXpzYn66e2PQU3lStq1s9IV/s960/Apollo%20bust.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="762" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHMNxj2GcnXYwsgFljV0r-8fBYus_Mf1NuTpofw08rOeeWB3t6706qcvolTf4EN5O5QbkZg2yZ0q2SNPqNKs17_alpipM29-6P3vLGatHHJM8uZXkgnBj4YAgm2Opuea0dGfA2typJQySB3Re5UHKdoKM8zgghz1GbgXpzYn66e2PQU3lStq1s9IV/w137-h172/Apollo%20bust.jpg" width="137" /></a></span></div><p></p><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The effort that the school put into arranging
James' workshops and in the final assembly showed the strength of their
commitment to the vale of the work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
year 6 class teacher Ms Pliener said, “My pupils have been on a real journey,
gaining in confidence and excitement and volunteering en masse to read the
whole of their poem to the assembly.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr
Burgess, who teaches the parallel class, also commented that “It's so important
for youngsters to learn how to have the confidence to speak in public as it's
so important in any aspect of life and work.”</span>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The pupils first learned from James that Apollo was
the god of archery, music & dance, truth & prophecy, healing &
diseases, the Sun & light as well as the god of poetry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plenty there to inspire them - and it showed
in the range of comments about him and his work. We heard of golden arrows, the
Creator of Remedies,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the bustle of
Athens, and the smell the olive trees that surrounded the city.</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Profound handicap did not stop two boys from
reading out their own work – it would have been very difficult to stop them, I
think – and one girl who had been panicking before the assembly then took to
the centre stage to read her work with aplomb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These experiences were observed in rapt attention by the year five
pupils in the audience, so the value of this work just keeps on giving. As Ms
Blair, a learning support assistant said, “I have seen confidence of some of
the most nervous members of the class just shoot through the roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's an absolute joy.” There was high praise
too from Ms Kerr, another learning support assistant, for the way James held
the attention of the youngsters and she commented that she too had got a lot
out of his work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet another gift from a
Greek god – Apollo, not James!</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></b></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Just one example of so many; this from a god
reflecting<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on life 2000 years later:</span></p><p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I am Apollo</span></b></p><p class="Textbody"><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></b></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I am Apollo</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The graceful god of music and dance,</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The all-needed sun and light,</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Future, truth and prophecy.</span></p><p> <br /></p><p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I still hear shout of praise for me,</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Smell the sacrifices in the temples</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">And the taste of sweet success,</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">For I protected their young.</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Oh, the music I played for them</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">On my golden lyre</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">For my beauty they could not resist,</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">They could not resist, they could not resist.</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As I sat atop Mount Olympus,</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Foreseeing the future,</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I thought about what more to do.</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Was there any more to be done?</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">So now as I sit on a dusty windowsill,</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The sun bathing me in light, I think about what
would happen</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">If I were never born.</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Comments from the youngsters involved included:</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It was great to be able to ask questions of a Real
Writer</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It's really useful to me as I now plan to be a
writer</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It's really good to share your work with others as
it builds your confidence</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It was fun!</span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="Textbody"><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Headingley LitFest is very grateful for the funding
to complete this work, granted once again by the Inner North West Area Community Committee.</span></b></p><p class="Textbody"><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></b></p><p class="Textbody"><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL10Y3iQAFzNRO0PNb9NU4UuDNy-S35Vd4JuaimbTOObt57XN8dvc6iMA394ovBXgIXhbfB_jsgr5I9fTydzkwjbY_TgCszdxh_1KoaFgPaxJfk6ut795_-Aq8Yf4NQyKQEqdrnh8VU_laGM7BKgOz9rGR3faBoUSXQKVmMONwwfk9N7StQB4VTPFY/s2048/Leeds_City_Council.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="2048" height="61" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL10Y3iQAFzNRO0PNb9NU4UuDNy-S35Vd4JuaimbTOObt57XN8dvc6iMA394ovBXgIXhbfB_jsgr5I9fTydzkwjbY_TgCszdxh_1KoaFgPaxJfk6ut795_-Aq8Yf4NQyKQEqdrnh8VU_laGM7BKgOz9rGR3faBoUSXQKVmMONwwfk9N7StQB4VTPFY/w175-h61/Leeds_City_Council.jpg" width="175" /></a></span></b></div><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1e-Xo3MtaPSAhzuFt1-wIG-DsYowOrM39JxgIJCbhMZFGH_bE8-vOQ92y9JvndHUGvmpfMwNahyDehkcZBXVugBXM9LA4MLt1b4h9wAkyT2PL4zD7_eddUBFexqp4zXejQ2wDCFcIRYqr7zv3WKbQzZ8yUz1NBRk3jqXpOYgZt5PyDQYCPAh2hQ_/s168/Community%20logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="110" data-original-width="168" height="71" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1e-Xo3MtaPSAhzuFt1-wIG-DsYowOrM39JxgIJCbhMZFGH_bE8-vOQ92y9JvndHUGvmpfMwNahyDehkcZBXVugBXM9LA4MLt1b4h9wAkyT2PL4zD7_eddUBFexqp4zXejQ2wDCFcIRYqr7zv3WKbQzZ8yUz1NBRk3jqXpOYgZt5PyDQYCPAh2hQ_/w109-h71/Community%20logo.jpg" width="109" /></a></span></b></div><b><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></b><p></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-10839743908450358852022-06-23T11:41:00.005+01:002023-03-07T08:44:45.658+00:00Poet #Malika Booker returns to Brudenell Primary School<p><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> Richard Wilcocks writes:</span></b></p><p>Malika is now well-known at Brudenell, amongst the staff at least. Headteacher Jill Harland welcomed us both as we checked in, joking that we were now entitled to wear school jumpers. Tom Nutman, the enthusiastic teacher of Year 5, had vivid memories of Malika's sessions last year, and had primed his class in advance. She won them over seconds after walking into the room, and proceeded to live up to all their expectations.</p><p><b>First session</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsp9SNlYtOxL_MTGf1zt8ivHJ6bBNv3zt1kGNxiHjLq6oVpL91THWpGclhhSwYc8ZBepv2FLA7xLOiXCIR7PQXANMlNRYL5NRUTHxDc6Mc_m8AL_5GWY6CSAZRBRTJvi9ImJPUBqPIrJsVpdlhLzvUDXwp_PAr-06SNl5gQWLd6-tRmfCgdysC2JK/s2592/Tom%20and%20Malika.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1936" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsp9SNlYtOxL_MTGf1zt8ivHJ6bBNv3zt1kGNxiHjLq6oVpL91THWpGclhhSwYc8ZBepv2FLA7xLOiXCIR7PQXANMlNRYL5NRUTHxDc6Mc_m8AL_5GWY6CSAZRBRTJvi9ImJPUBqPIrJsVpdlhLzvUDXwp_PAr-06SNl5gQWLd6-tRmfCgdysC2JK/w379-h506/Tom%20and%20Malika.JPG" width="379" /></a></div><br />Malika knows which of her poems work with ten-year-olds. As a year ago with a different class, she began by reading two of the poems in her extensive repertoire, one about being lost in a maze (she was once Poet in Residence at Hampton Court, which has a famous one) and a little boy who could navigate it better than adults like herself, and one about a cat that had to be dismissed from the household soon after she was born. She shared her early experiences of shopping with her mother, which she never liked. The class was extremely responsive to her questions. They knew all about shopping trolleys, and markets. Supermarkets anyway.<p></p><p>Reminders about the five senses followed, and the use of similes, all ground covered by Tom Nutman recently. Then she wrote a list of emotions on the whiteboard, as suggested by the children - anger, hate, sadness, jealousy, love, excitement and joy. Each class member had to choose one, think hard about it, write it down, and say what it was like to feel it. The outcomes were shared, and this preliminary work was scheduled for future elaboration.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>Second session</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeJwZGQJD3S1IqqlRrcv6N_Vr2gJQuW3NqoiTthSg7vmviIkyrKkJC9-3tzIZb_8Rlh3YAqtEHRMbkPZdK-KG3i5Th7GZr0hzzmTK68QywfxlO11xerWERDEVeLm5NNcCdVfretRtxfgB3veypZwyIBLiuyPBWzrr1v0V-i44ctlncuserwEGoJP5D/s2592/IMG-2007.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1936" height="477" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeJwZGQJD3S1IqqlRrcv6N_Vr2gJQuW3NqoiTthSg7vmviIkyrKkJC9-3tzIZb_8Rlh3YAqtEHRMbkPZdK-KG3i5Th7GZr0hzzmTK68QywfxlO11xerWERDEVeLm5NNcCdVfretRtxfgB3veypZwyIBLiuyPBWzrr1v0V-i44ctlncuserwEGoJP5D/w356-h477/IMG-2007.JPG" width="356" /></a></div>A number of similes were read out. Malika moved on to the need to think visually.The children were asked to write poems from their own experiences. Several children were invited to stand up to read poems they had written in the preceding week, thanks to Tom Nutman's encouragement, based on similes. 'Project your voice!' she advised. 'Use your playground voice.' Then it was time to begin the poems which were to be performed to parents the following week. 'I always write out my list of ingredients before the creating. That's what I am doing at the moment for the poem commissioned for the Verb programme on BBC 3. You can do the same thing. Writing poetry is like cooking.<p></p><p>'It could be either a praise poem about a person in your life who you love and admire, like your mother, or a poem about where you are from.' Stimulus poems were distributed - 'Praise Song for my Mother' by Grace Nichols, 'I'm From the Woods...' by Nick (surname unknown) and 'Where I am from' by Anonymous. 'Gather your ingredients and start writing,' Malika instructed. Tom Nutman said the class would work on the poems before the big rehearsal and the performance in a week's time. </p><p><b>Final session. Performance.</b></p><p>The rehearsal in the hall was a time to overcome nerves and to be bold and brave, for most a first chance to be a lone performer in front of an adult audience. Advice was gentle but constant. 'Keep the paper at the right level, not too high and not too low', 'Imagine you're a tree. Plant your feet firmly to let your roots grow into the ground', 'Aim for the back wall'. An X was taped on the polished floor. Chairs were set out, gym mats piled up in a corner. The school's little video camera was set up on a tripod. After a break, the parents arrived to sit in the audience. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TrjOQrelx9BoO0PJ5K4vt-Sm1shUXdyVLOJidw-R6Yr3A5c--hhnm0555oo3ZJtZIbMyn2QSp38mNxlZguUbhuqgufVshsD9jQQs9Gbc2IFAnrzT0pHq0AO3Qmjey6D3EwqSOAmthMNcHwSVuW4yZZNZqZotPxtTeU0bjobfQhdBszJwSSdnptB9/s2592/IMG-2015.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1936" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TrjOQrelx9BoO0PJ5K4vt-Sm1shUXdyVLOJidw-R6Yr3A5c--hhnm0555oo3ZJtZIbMyn2QSp38mNxlZguUbhuqgufVshsD9jQQs9Gbc2IFAnrzT0pHq0AO3Qmjey6D3EwqSOAmthMNcHwSVuW4yZZNZqZotPxtTeU0bjobfQhdBszJwSSdnptB9/w355-h476/IMG-2015.JPG" width="355" /></a></div><br />One by one, the children stepped forward to read, and the level of self-confidence was remarkably high. Each reading was followed by loud clapping. Emotions expressed in the poems were genuine, and praise poems in particular were much appreciated by their subjects who were sitting listening. <p></p><p>.Jill Harland was extremely complimentary to everybody afterwards: 'You were amazing! You've reflected on your life and noted what's important. You spoke so directly to your parents if they are in the hall. You should keep your poem for ever!'</p><p>'I have seen this performance every year since Malika first came (<i>in 2016</i>) and this year it is better than ever,' said Year 6 teacher Julie Rawlinson.</p><p>'I loved how they overcame their nerves. I'm really proud of them,' said classroom assistant Safiya.</p><p>'I loved it. I cried,' said a mother as she hugged her son.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Selected poems</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;"><b>My Praise Poem for Mum</b> by Brett</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You are my rock,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">Shielding the gem in me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You are my sword and shield,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">Attack predators without a care and defend me with all your might<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You are my heart in my body,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">Beating, guiding me in life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You are the beaming sunlight,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">When I’m in the dark.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I can count on you<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You always say be Kind, Caring and Supportive before school.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I remember<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I am<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I hope<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;"><b>I am From</b> by Calice</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I’m from the Rocky Road, where cars speed up and down.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I’m from the fish and chip shop aromas, catching me as I play.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I’m from Aldi, where my mum would browse for days, leaving me in everlasting boredom.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I’m from the “Are We There Yet,” at the start of car rides, that feel like they have been going for days<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">I’m from my mums warm kiss sending me into Sweet dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><o:p><span face="Arial, sans-serif">I’m proud of where I am from.</span> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;"><b>My Praise Poem</b> by Juwairiyah</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You are my moon, my star, brightening the night sky.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You are like my rose, blooming in my heart,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You always make a rainbow appear in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 22.8267px;">You are my morning sunrise, revealing the shades of love.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; 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font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-7416828093681281122022-05-18T12:13:00.003+01:002022-05-18T12:13:51.627+01:00Kay Mellor<p> We are shocked to hear of the death last Sunday of local resident and national treasure Kay Mellor. She was far too young! A highly talented, forthright and friendly actor, playwright and director for stage and television, she gave voices to working class characters, with the world seen through their eyes. She was very fond of Headingley (look out for Woodies and other local locations when her series are shown again on television), and Yorkshire in general. She said many times that she liked to have plays produced here rather than in London's West End. She was a good friend of Headingley LitFest who talked to us at an event in 2013 at the New Headingley Club, when we presented her with a bouquet. Here is the photo:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_RYeaogXRqzuhFtUBLYc6XUMPu8XkeS9agYkuC7m0n-uTqlwChgboQkUbGjBUmgCaIdB2Ct20ERE87QoCZui9aouqkEQ2v-qR-eT5VvNZKJagoHdC-62CLconXI1eNLeMoP2fWTXo9MOrwK85JCqPRPYbTR6W-6W6K7HJG4niz0NNLswFkiV55mr/s640/Kay%20Mellor%20in%20NHC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="427" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_RYeaogXRqzuhFtUBLYc6XUMPu8XkeS9agYkuC7m0n-uTqlwChgboQkUbGjBUmgCaIdB2Ct20ERE87QoCZui9aouqkEQ2v-qR-eT5VvNZKJagoHdC-62CLconXI1eNLeMoP2fWTXo9MOrwK85JCqPRPYbTR6W-6W6K7HJG4niz0NNLswFkiV55mr/w428-h640/Kay%20Mellor%20in%20NHC.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Kay Mellor at a Headingley LitFest event. Photo credit Richard Wilcocks<br /><br /></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">A nice piece here by Zoe Williams - <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2022/may/17/she-changed-the-way-tv-was-written-zoe-williams-on-kay-mellor&source=gmail&ust=1652954378424000&usg=AOvVaw2Fco8KqTGmXBsSf2FsX4wu" href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2022/may/17/she-changed-the-way-tv-was-written-zoe-williams-on-kay-mellor" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.theguardian.com/<wbr></wbr>tv-and-radio/2022/may/17/she-<wbr></wbr>changed-the-way-tv-was-<wbr></wbr>written-zoe-williams-on-kay-<wbr></wbr>mellor</a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Also an obit here - <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2022/may/17/kay-mellor-obituary&source=gmail&ust=1652954378424000&usg=AOvVaw0CfvKbrmk2JXVIMgHQUVhM" href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2022/may/17/kay-mellor-obituary" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.theguardian.com/<wbr></wbr>tv-and-radio/2022/may/17/kay-<wbr></wbr>mellor-obituary</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-19538265246876419352022-05-16T10:08:00.006+01:002022-05-16T10:08:51.921+01:00Leeds Lit Fest Wins Best Literary Festival 2022<p><span style="color: red; font-family: trebuchet;"> Headingley LitFest is a partner of Leeds Lit Fest. Thanks to all those who voted!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Fiona Gell writes:</span></b></div>
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<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a name="_Hlk103512867"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">LEEDS LIT FEST WINS BEST LITERARY FESTIVAL
IN THE NATIONAL SABOTEUR AWARDS FOR THE SECOND TIME<o:p></o:p></span></b></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Leeds Lit
Fest is excited to announce that it has won Best Literary Festival in the
Saboteur Awards 2022. It’s the second time the Festival has won this
prestigious national award. The first time was in 2020.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Leeds Lit
Fest took place on Saturday 26th Feb to Sunday 6th March this year with more
than fifty events over nine days with a mixture of in-person and online events.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The
Saboteur Awards, started by Sabotage Reviews, spotlight a diverse range of
literary publications, events and writers on the UK indie literature scene and
have been running since 2011. The awards are voted for by the public and are
much prized and sought after by the writing community. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Carl
Hutton, Chair of Leeds Lit Fest and CEO of the Leeds Library said, “When we
first discussed the opportunity for Leeds to have a literature festival 5 years
ago, all of the partners agreed we wanted to create something that was unique
to the city and a new model for literary festivals. We think we achieved this through a broad
mixture of literary inspired events spanning a number of art forms, and so to
win this award for the second time, shows that others have recognized that as
well.” <span style="color: red;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Fiona Gell,
Leeds Lit Fest partner from Leeds Big Bookend said: “The Leeds Lit Fest
partners are absolutely delighted to have won the Best Literary Festival
category in the Saboteur Awards against such strong competition for the second
time. It is really humbling to know that people took time out to vote for us
and we thank them sincerely. We’re looking forward to 2023 as Leeds gears up
for an extraordinary Year of Culture and we cannot wait to be part of that
celebration.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Photo: Best Literary
Festival, The Saboteur Awards 2022. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b>Photographic images
from the Festival can be found </b><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/124012535@N05/sets/"><b>here</b></a><b>. Please credit
photographer Michael Godsall</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlW15XhhkIloKzxsk6-I378edn3lDyyUfc2QooIDNDLD1vwvlJ70lC6rtY_8w77nc0bbutkpc0iRM-j8JLKEgwR6u9X-Ja2Xpys7BqCx4b2TB3z9oJoLf-U1Tn-WyBD_lUPUi27yJZs1yZzxnBOTgYEDub7gaZTV1Ifd8SN2EhBOrZsucW_pti2zi5/s1080/Sab%20winners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlW15XhhkIloKzxsk6-I378edn3lDyyUfc2QooIDNDLD1vwvlJ70lC6rtY_8w77nc0bbutkpc0iRM-j8JLKEgwR6u9X-Ja2Xpys7BqCx4b2TB3z9oJoLf-U1Tn-WyBD_lUPUi27yJZs1yZzxnBOTgYEDub7gaZTV1Ifd8SN2EhBOrZsucW_pti2zi5/w640-h640/Sab%20winners.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p>
<!--EndFragment--></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">For further information and media requests contact Fiona
Gell</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">, Leeds Lit Fest partner
at enquiries@leedslitfest.co.uk| 07742 861889</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-11993299648871150552022-05-15T11:08:00.003+01:002022-05-15T11:18:53.636+01:00Poet James Nash at Weetwood Primary<p><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Sally Bavage writes: </span></b></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Africa and the Slave Trade</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Year 5 study the history, geography and culture of Africa during the summer term and this coincided with the visits by our commissioned poet James Nash, whose work at <span class="il">Weetwood</span> primary school had been delayed this year by Covid.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">What a strong topic to engage with the creative writing of poetry led by a master of his art! The rich imagery, the sounds and smells, the enjoyment of village life, the sense of menace lurking in the centuries when slave trading took place. Year 5 absolutely engrossed themselves in their work and responded by writing so many heartfelt poems they were bursting with pride to read out in a sharing assembly with parents and other teachers present.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The youngsters draft and edit their work, share with friends and other peers, then finally to a whole class assembly. An important part of this poetry project, funded by local councillors, is learning how to read out and present your work to an audience. It's a lifeskill that cannot be taught but which has so much value in future years.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qXRU-KRIEC7bemNbizg6UCo7zUwuv6Fxe3uYsJhwv9d3F28wrr3gRMnQUVLD4JRiyjcn3-JbGB_0zlMULv40d-Fgb7ifH5ff9eljpH1AUtprHsTiaLHqAXyOv3JIE_EYL6kNQrmTvJ6qf9J-0ZNgPgfmnYe_VFGeuKk6FckdZ4rODtSItSdl19SR/s4160/Weetwood%20May%202022%20James%20and%20Joanne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qXRU-KRIEC7bemNbizg6UCo7zUwuv6Fxe3uYsJhwv9d3F28wrr3gRMnQUVLD4JRiyjcn3-JbGB_0zlMULv40d-Fgb7ifH5ff9eljpH1AUtprHsTiaLHqAXyOv3JIE_EYL6kNQrmTvJ6qf9J-0ZNgPgfmnYe_VFGeuKk6FckdZ4rODtSItSdl19SR/s320/Weetwood%20May%202022%20James%20and%20Joanne.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Nash with Joanne Parker</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Elephants bathing in the river, the smell of cooking rice, the sound of laughing children at play, sitting on the beach watching the waves. Village life goes steadily on. But no. A smell of fires not from cooking pots, a feeling of foreboding, a youngster traumatised by the loss of his family, a fear for the future of the country, seeing the ghosts of those taken. And expressed in vocabulary that was so mature and empathetic, some using the rhythm of their lines to create a n unnerving drumbeat.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“My long-gone baby brother, murdered at five months old”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“Even though his soft skin will never touch my mother's hand again.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I'm too scared to go to sleep”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">My family, only alive and well in my mind.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“I see them coming, coming, coming”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I dream, I dream, I dream of a world with no war. When tribes can trade in peace”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">”I dream of my father - all I have left of him is a mask”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“Sunlight over a sleeping village”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“Huddling under a shared blanket”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“Warm sand glitters in the ocean-blue air”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“Friends, dead or taken, are alive in our hearts”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“A boat of misery, full of traders”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I have to pinch myself that these lines have been written and are being read out by youngsters who are nine or ten years old. And they listen so attentively to each other's work, a skill many adults have yet to acquire!</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">As one mum said, “My son has improved his vocabulary so much with this work, and his confidence in himself and his ability has just soared.” A dad also commented, “This is a brilliant introduction to poetry, a way of expressing yourself that goes far beyond the curriculum and brings this type of writing to real life.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Joanne Parker, class teacher, explained that this project was always such a fantastic starting point for creative writing. Even reluctant writers were inspired as their self-esteem goes through the roof. And as for the kudos of working with a Proper Published Poet ...”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b>Once again, many thanks to the councillors of the Inner North West community committee who graciously funded this work</b>.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKY-kbXIvfYtdWj5cINfY8auN_IfMMtcjg-H0UqQZXIwmZHUfUcXtfhNAzRdO9iPD7XuGKCjHD3ox-nAqyk9aGQR_Nyikh6JXT1BOwDu9zzucclBEM0H6U1y7sNfY9B5ynRuyvjWo-Y6yhUYZHAzZKKgW3kR60QaOsoQslNhEzn4zuBt7F6z0qM_m/s260/Picture%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="260" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKY-kbXIvfYtdWj5cINfY8auN_IfMMtcjg-H0UqQZXIwmZHUfUcXtfhNAzRdO9iPD7XuGKCjHD3ox-nAqyk9aGQR_Nyikh6JXT1BOwDu9zzucclBEM0H6U1y7sNfY9B5ynRuyvjWo-Y6yhUYZHAzZKKgW3kR60QaOsoQslNhEzn4zuBt7F6z0qM_m/s1600/Picture%201.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2gsSpAE7TM0gX5-InVCnUWITms9FF5OcWWPeF9bRGjckfX7H79HkWaoI_P-nNojDJfkWvW939XCdCz3v3LHZ7yxdrTaiX7IRF1HjNdlIfdPfd3KDtNYvml859Mfg4_NurJxEOJzzBPTZ_CkdbeyoPLft2uYgufoKj_kMsQbFi1fr2S8-g7W7ANdcJ/s204/Picture%201.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="204" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2gsSpAE7TM0gX5-InVCnUWITms9FF5OcWWPeF9bRGjckfX7H79HkWaoI_P-nNojDJfkWvW939XCdCz3v3LHZ7yxdrTaiX7IRF1HjNdlIfdPfd3KDtNYvml859Mfg4_NurJxEOJzzBPTZ_CkdbeyoPLft2uYgufoKj_kMsQbFi1fr2S8-g7W7ANdcJ/s1600/Picture%201.png" width="204" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-39231478180973012952022-05-13T11:19:00.002+01:002022-05-16T09:55:57.776+01:00 The Body Beautiful at Shire Oak<p><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Sally Bavage writes</span></b></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a style="color: #222222;"></a>Year 3 have been studying animals, including humans, as part of their science work this term. They have also worked with the school's favourite Proper Professional Published Poet – James Nash – who returns to the school by acclaim, after more than a two-year pandemic break, and is so warmly greeted by the former year 3's now in year 6 who remember his work with them in December 2019.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVAtm2-fU8ZKmPlXm_em8lI5h89_qGk-hoHZUSp7hPEptBMtl52RoynaWw1kP5RAigT80TLmZ3xUtS22bqjAbwbMKLHhT5h52i2wf35fYcB_2U7VRQ4Mx1Qgra1zbu6_Q9nHcux-OzeJgzmBnYMJqr34jFqVf3sKTgzBOV4L2WIIxPwbBCMuuFodL/s3936/James%20and%20HT%20Jane%20Devanney%20at%20Shire%20Oak%20primary%20school.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2220" data-original-width="3936" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVAtm2-fU8ZKmPlXm_em8lI5h89_qGk-hoHZUSp7hPEptBMtl52RoynaWw1kP5RAigT80TLmZ3xUtS22bqjAbwbMKLHhT5h52i2wf35fYcB_2U7VRQ4Mx1Qgra1zbu6_Q9nHcux-OzeJgzmBnYMJqr34jFqVf3sKTgzBOV4L2WIIxPwbBCMuuFodL/w400-h225/James%20and%20HT%20Jane%20Devanney%20at%20Shire%20Oak%20primary%20school.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">This time the young writers were inspired by the skeleton and found it great fun to write, edit and redraft poetry about bodies. And read either their whole poem or their favourite lines to an audience of one hundred staff, other year groups and around twenty parents/carers. I remind myself these are seven or eight years old, with the aplomb of adults and the ability to milk a line here and there. Fantastic.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“I am a spine.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I keep the back up straight and look like a blunt sword without a handle.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“I am a skull. A face without flesh.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“I'm a femur, the strongest bone and like a propellor connected to the tibia and fibula.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“I like to go the NHS. Try to break me!”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“i'm a ribcage and look like a shelter.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Nothing gets out of my cage.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I'm ribs. I look like a helter skelter.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“I'm a spine. The shoulders sit on me and squash me. I never get any rest.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I am a toe bone. I have nine other brothers and sisters.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The fingers are my cousins.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">What imagery. What use of vocabulary.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">There were many other comments about keeping these bodies healthy with exercise and nutrition – the scientific learning has definitely struck home and been interpreted through poetry. A LitFest first.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">One mum said: “The poetry was so expressive; my son has talked a lot about it at home and really enjoyed it.” A dad commented: “I'm really blown away by the lines my daughter wrote and chose to read out.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJLC-rv8IptapOVYHJYET5HuUiEEJSc-7pcdum4iNZAT8hAuBvpi0yoaAjTSv-BL5HG0AxQHVE9bIIgigwx_vTdgvzDEmU6-yH7pZkbi8RbVyuJUnh1IHcfTUakuepM1cZCBlijvpvKaPZu-dTu3bn819j1SOl02Yy4Vllw3suiFY_F29hQbDja4X/s4032/Shire%20Oak.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJLC-rv8IptapOVYHJYET5HuUiEEJSc-7pcdum4iNZAT8hAuBvpi0yoaAjTSv-BL5HG0AxQHVE9bIIgigwx_vTdgvzDEmU6-yH7pZkbi8RbVyuJUnh1IHcfTUakuepM1cZCBlijvpvKaPZu-dTu3bn819j1SOl02Yy4Vllw3suiFY_F29hQbDja4X/w400-h300/Shire%20Oak.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Class teacher Helen Barley was so impressed with the descriptions they used and found several children had really surprised her with their confidence and the quality of their writing. The whole class really enjoyed collecting all the bone words they could use in their verses.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Headteacher Jane Devane was so pleased to have James Nash back in again after the disruptions of the Covid years. She said: “Always so joyful to have James in school, inspiring children to love poetry and see themselves as poets too.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Last words to the children.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“We've loved learning how to write a poem.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“Really good fun.”</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">and, of course,</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“<span>Poems don't have to rhyme!”</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><b style="color: #201f1e; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">Grateful thanks are given to the Outer West Area Management Committee of councillors, whose funding for a visiting poet allowed this to go ahead.</span></span></span></b></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><b style="color: #201f1e; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></b></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><b style="color: #201f1e; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"></span></span></b></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><b style="color: #201f1e; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmSTKdltM0fR4KZeLMnI1wmnURUzeMd9bZlb_eadf9qV8jwqRoh12k4fxgElq9CTuogGrTr9pgKtZZ6ofccM0YN_5cCIwj9WH6PYBAIcqWliJ7pCt2sY0QbcaolNBkSm-NL-feBHUy8ZiIgDjTNd3JL_gcpdLAl99w9in_LcPBTivULq5eHgOhettH/s260/Picture%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="260" height="66" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmSTKdltM0fR4KZeLMnI1wmnURUzeMd9bZlb_eadf9qV8jwqRoh12k4fxgElq9CTuogGrTr9pgKtZZ6ofccM0YN_5cCIwj9WH6PYBAIcqWliJ7pCt2sY0QbcaolNBkSm-NL-feBHUy8ZiIgDjTNd3JL_gcpdLAl99w9in_LcPBTivULq5eHgOhettH/w114-h66/Picture%201.jpg" width="114" /></a></b></span></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><b style="color: #201f1e; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP04j3GeCDG1S5jq73n4RsLEDuORprkos4KGAg8_XVnxgAJ9e-U4PFQB2fgUYC0hpd6qG4m2qvol8SWdVrp8xmnm1nLrLtI9RMNLCLgYQgyq1DxaE6daVEH-RqxBx7RbUXFDDml7hT1FKukrs1iO5qVvDXgWmrabVaOAZJjV8I8IZKpLMSRDhfvvcv/s204/Picture%201.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="204" height="35" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP04j3GeCDG1S5jq73n4RsLEDuORprkos4KGAg8_XVnxgAJ9e-U4PFQB2fgUYC0hpd6qG4m2qvol8SWdVrp8xmnm1nLrLtI9RMNLCLgYQgyq1DxaE6daVEH-RqxBx7RbUXFDDml7hT1FKukrs1iO5qVvDXgWmrabVaOAZJjV8I8IZKpLMSRDhfvvcv/w102-h35/Picture%201.png" width="102" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></span></span><p></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><b style="color: #201f1e; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></b></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><b style="color: #201f1e; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></b></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-80561225515614977262022-05-10T14:34:00.005+01:002022-05-11T08:56:04.755+01:00Testament of Youth<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">5 May 2022</span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Sally Bavage writes:</span></b></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Segoe UI, Segoe UI Web (West European), Segoe UI, apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">No, not the wonderful WW1 memoir by Vera Brittain but a finale to the series of creative poetry writing workshops at Ralph Thoresby school, headed up by <a href="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=a9fe89c1fa&view=lg&permmsgid=msg-f:1732342175160650893#m_-5606763734651520789_https://www.testamenthomecut.com/about-1" style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration-line: none;">Testament</a>. This internationally acclaimed poet, writer and performer worked with a group of 20 young writers ranging in age from 11 to 15 to encourage them in writing about their own ideas. To find light in the darkest of times, to create original writing and get the power of the words down on paper. Then to share them, after some rehearsal, with a whole year group. In the drama theatre, on stage in front of spotlights. So no pressure then!</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Segoe UI, Segoe UI Web (West European), Segoe UI, apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-family: trebuchet;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Segoe UI, Segoe UI Web (West European), Segoe UI, apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTtV1s_B0hpvGlitjWshYZ3QH9FZuOvV5Q352f-doKJeSwwwgfEW2ARXbk-hgkRc2wEB7teM5pU4hOIrFjYzCcNRRluV4GPLhLTkD_uLr6kmErZQdXYY96ItUNxe61mg2WvtjaAK1MdhTedRUWB-sTXGW70kzL5AFuQKZCh0_aSQI6cfQO_BMRMKG/s680/Testament%20at%20Thoresby.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="680" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTtV1s_B0hpvGlitjWshYZ3QH9FZuOvV5Q352f-doKJeSwwwgfEW2ARXbk-hgkRc2wEB7teM5pU4hOIrFjYzCcNRRluV4GPLhLTkD_uLr6kmErZQdXYY96ItUNxe61mg2WvtjaAK1MdhTedRUWB-sTXGW70kzL5AFuQKZCh0_aSQI6cfQO_BMRMKG/w400-h300/Testament%20at%20Thoresby.jpeg" width="400" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">I was in awe of the composure and clarity of the performers themselves, a humbling experience to watch the confidence of these youngsters just grow as they took to the mike. Would you have done that at their age?? And what an experience to take forward into their futures – writing words that were carefully crafted, performing them to a theatre full of peers, knowing that your voice matters.</span></span></span></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">Testament himself also shared with the writers and the audience some details of his own journey through young years that were not easy. How he was proud of his mixed Ghanaian and English family and cultures – and how facing up to challenges made you stronger. As an </span></span></span><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>ordinary </i></span></span></span><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">boy from a London school he now has an </span></span></span><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>extraordinary</i></span></span></span><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"> career performing and writing for a wide range of international media, even recently teaching Poet Laureate Simon Armitage to beatbox for a BBC Radio 4 programme. He was Channel 4 Writer in Residence at the Manchester Royal Exchange Theatre in 2019 and his show 'Orpheus in the Record Shop' opened at Leeds Playhouse in 2020.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">He thoroughly enjoyed his time at Ralph Thoresby and commented:</span></span></span></p><ul><li><p style="border: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: trebuchet;"><span face="arial, sans-serif">'</span><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">Hearing a young person (who not part of the original writer’s group) be unconfident about what they wrote, then receive praise about it, and then have the courage to share it in front of the whole year group in the hall.</span></span></p></li><li style="font-size: 16px;"><p style="border: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">A young girl who is part of the writers' group - initially skeptical about writing in this new way - who was really buzzing about what she wrote and performed.</span></span></p></li><li style="font-size: 16px;"><p style="border: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">Having the mix of students who were working with more established writers was great and seeing how their peers respected their work.'</span></span></p></li></ul><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: #201f1e; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">Headteacher Will Carr commented that 'The pandemic had affected the social and emotional health of many students, and having such a brilliant opportunity to explore personal fears and feelings was a massive bright spot and a lifeline for particular students.'</span></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">And deputy headteacher Steve Hackshaw : 'Kate always does some fantastic work to support these young writers.'</span></span></span></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e; font-family: trebuchet;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">And Kate Wolstenholme herself: '</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">What Testament drew out of the kids was phenomenal. I loved the positivity he built at the start of the performance - the idea that expressing yourself is scary, the idea that any one of the audience could be a successful artist, that this is possible. </span></span></span></span></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">The work produced was excellent - imagery, dystopian settings and the scope of their imaginations were all utilised in a stealthy and non-threatening way. Andy made a point of making each of those pupils feel special and seen - something they will never forget. </span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: trebuchet;">I sometimes feel like I have the best job in the world when I hear creative pieces performed by these amazing young people. Having seen Testament perform on our Arvon residential trip, I knew how powerful he would be - he exceeded my expectations. His linking of Hip Hop to dystopian literature was a perfect way of conveying the power of language and creativity to our young people.</span></p><p style="border: none; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Ralph Thoresby have a history of offering space and inspiration for creativity – I’m really proud of this. Sally Bavage, of Headingley LitFest, has invested many hours of her spare time to allow us to pay for professional writers to give workshops and performances. I’d like to say a huge thanks to the festival team – and especially Sally - for their support'.</span></p><p style="border: none; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="border: none; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">Grateful thanks are given to the Outer West Area Management Committee of councillors, whose funding for a visiting poet allowed this to go ahead.</span></span></span></b></span></p><p style="border: none; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></b></span></p><p style="border: none; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"></span></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #201f1e;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLZwdQb-busIQ529-pgU-FRQkz2fbASi3ScAZLmj_V4jr5LGZQjAdoJpjFG5Z6uUEuvG_76eQfhZUbaxYiRko_iAqpCbiifERv4FjPiipWSdbmLF-I0xwgu7_t7Nem8fsLE7MAtthEWcMrU89r2wKr42su0_kw-hiPxLJMQ4puOm9iZXTdje41cJ_6/s204/Picture%201.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="204" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLZwdQb-busIQ529-pgU-FRQkz2fbASi3ScAZLmj_V4jr5LGZQjAdoJpjFG5Z6uUEuvG_76eQfhZUbaxYiRko_iAqpCbiifERv4FjPiipWSdbmLF-I0xwgu7_t7Nem8fsLE7MAtthEWcMrU89r2wKr42su0_kw-hiPxLJMQ4puOm9iZXTdje41cJ_6/s1600/Picture%201.png" width="204" /></a></span></span></b></span></div><span style="color: #201f1e;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOdN5Z41S_XPZWwH4qjPAQFy92IsKJ1yrY7fCy2uzVepzpEOgydA7KD-rSFsAmNwSVW1Sxf10q1vSG_xpsW33gDTulHsus8pNb1qjv6-yfL6hJXTm86o7Diqdl9cOYFmLeQNZI8fKsYBVKYXBpRL6ByJarg-yIt7LTRhWwBI2sJDqpqoPy-oo2I_iD/s260/Picture%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="260" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOdN5Z41S_XPZWwH4qjPAQFy92IsKJ1yrY7fCy2uzVepzpEOgydA7KD-rSFsAmNwSVW1Sxf10q1vSG_xpsW33gDTulHsus8pNb1qjv6-yfL6hJXTm86o7Diqdl9cOYFmLeQNZI8fKsYBVKYXBpRL6ByJarg-yIt7LTRhWwBI2sJDqpqoPy-oo2I_iD/s1600/Picture%201.jpg" width="260" /></a></span></span></b></span></div><span style="color: #201f1e;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></b></span><p></p><div><span style="color: #201f1e;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></b></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-12404296906215630352022-05-03T10:57:00.003+01:002022-05-03T10:57:55.464+01:00Unsung Sports<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chapel FM's Celebration Event is on Thursday 12 May, 7.30 - 10.30pm, at the Irish Centre on York Road, Leeds.</span></p><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="88qgb" data-offset-key="2fnpo-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2fnpo-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="2fnpo-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="88qgb" data-offset-key="921jv-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="921jv-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="921jv-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Headingley LitFest contributed to the funding of this. See you there.</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="88qgb" data-offset-key="dfosp-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="dfosp-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="dfosp-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="88qgb" data-offset-key="ao7nt-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ao7nt-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="ao7nt-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Full details - </span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="88qgb" data-offset-key="ajui0-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ajui0-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="ajui0-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="88qgb" data-offset-key="21se0-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="21se0-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><a href="https://allevents.in/leeds/unsung-sports-celebration-event/10000315198636607 "><span class="py34i1dx" style="color: var(--blue-link); font-family: inherit;">https://allevents.in/leeds/unsung-sports-celebration-event/10000315198636607</span><span data-offset-key="21se0-1-0" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></a></div><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="21se0-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><br /></div>
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<p><span style="color: rgb(74.900000%, 87.400000%, 96.700000%); font-family: 'BauhausStd'; font-size: 40.000000pt; font-weight: 800;">UNSUNG </span><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'BauhausStd'; font-size: 40.000000pt; font-weight: 800;">SPORTS </span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'BauhausStd'; font-size: 14.000000pt; font-weight: 800;">What do you love about your sport?<br />
</span><span style="color: rgb(74.900000%, 87.400000%, 96.700000%); font-family: 'BauhausStd'; font-size: 14.000000pt; font-weight: 800;">How did you get involved?
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'BauhausStd'; font-size: 14.000000pt; font-weight: 800;">Fancy talking about it, writing about it,
helping to write a song about it?
</span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'BauhausStd'; font-size: 14.000000pt; font-weight: 800;"><br /></span></p>
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<p><span style="color: rgb(11.500000%, 44.200000%, 72.100000%); font-family: 'BauhausStd'; font-size: 12.000000pt; font-weight: 800;">UNSUNG SPORTS </span><span style="color: rgb(11.500000%, 44.200000%, 72.100000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">is an arts project that celebrates sports in Leeds.<br />
Not the sports that talk the loudest, but the well-kept secrets. I’m working
with 3 brilliant artists – photographer Lizzie Coombes, film maker Emilie
Flower, and musician Dave Evans - to create:
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">• A SONG ABOUT YOUR SPORT
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<td style="background-color: rgb(95.300000%, 57.300000%, 0.000000%); border-bottom-width: 0.000000pt; border-left-color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 0.000000%); border-left-width: 0.000000pt; border-right-color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 0.000000%); border-right-width: 0.000000pt; border-style: solid; border-top-width: 0.000000pt;">
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">• A FILM ABOUT YOUR SPORT
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<td style="background-color: rgb(58.400000%, 75.700000%, 12.000000%); border-bottom-width: 0.000000pt; border-left-color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 0.000000%); border-left-width: 0.000000pt; border-right-color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 0.000000%); border-right-width: 0.000000pt; border-style: solid; border-top-width: 0.000000pt;">
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">• A PODCAST ABOUT YOUR SPORT
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<td style="background-color: rgb(90.000000%, 0.000000%, 49.200000%); border-bottom-width: 0.000000pt; border-left-color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 0.000000%); border-left-width: 0.000000pt; border-right-color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 0.000000%); border-right-width: 0.000000pt; border-style: solid; border-top-width: 0.000000pt;">
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">• AN EXHIBITION OF PHOTOGRAPHS OF PLAYERS AND SUPPORTERS
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<p><span style="color: rgb(11.500000%, 44.200000%, 72.100000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">And we need your help! If you’d like to know more, please email me,
Peter Spafford: </span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(11.500000%, 44.200000%, 72.100000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">spaffordpeter@gmail.com / 07590 028327
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(11.500000%, 44.200000%, 72.100000%); font-family: 'BauhausStd'; font-size: 13.000000pt; font-weight: 800;">COMING UP IN 2022
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">JANUARY: Lizzie takes photo-portraits of players at training venues
</span></p>
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<td style="background-color: rgb(58.400000%, 75.700000%, 12.000000%); border-bottom-width: 0.000000pt; border-left-color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 0.000000%); border-left-width: 0.000000pt; border-right-color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 0.000000%); border-right-width: 0.000000pt; border-style: solid; border-top-width: 0.000000pt;">
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">FEBRUARY: Peter & Dave run creative writing and songwriting sessions
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">MAY: Final social event showcasing photos, films, and songs
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<p><span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 100.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'SofiaProSoftMedium'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">UNSUNG SPORTS aims to celebrate the range of amazing<br />
sports that happen in our city, tell the stories of the people and
communities who play them, and attract more people to forms of
physical and social activity they may never have dreamt existed!
</span></p>
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</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2223125416461729212.post-66474327669065405052022-04-20T09:36:00.000+01:002022-04-20T09:36:01.432+01:00Iby Knill<p> </p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplTB2Q9Q_4m7C0F-6-au_pJkghbtBDoL2uU7u6EamdxEb_ZJ0YvFVj772bD_0hhK5YBmbjMfIoVps66Ly-gzjrU7nGCWAwaaKb_4jliaih7SEiTohXpeevbZjYlmwMlXNxN3vgTmgJHMgxKxBMenZw0HE_EG5haa--BAbNKvWejOG5dbyLwvRJEPH/s631/Iby%20Knill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="631" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplTB2Q9Q_4m7C0F-6-au_pJkghbtBDoL2uU7u6EamdxEb_ZJ0YvFVj772bD_0hhK5YBmbjMfIoVps66Ly-gzjrU7nGCWAwaaKb_4jliaih7SEiTohXpeevbZjYlmwMlXNxN3vgTmgJHMgxKxBMenZw0HE_EG5haa--BAbNKvWejOG5dbyLwvRJEPH/s320/Iby%20Knill.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> Headingley LitFest was one of many organisations which were addressed by the seemingly indefatigable Iby Knill, a Holocaust survivor who has died 77 years after her liberation from a concentration camp. Aged 98, she died on Easter Sunday, the same day she was freed from a death march from Auschwitz, in Nazi-occupied Poland, in 1945. Born in 1923 in Czechoslovakia, she moved to Leeds after marrying Bert Knill, a British soldier, in 1946.</p><p>Read our blog report from 2015, entitled 'The Woman Without A Number':</p><p><a href="https://headingleylitfest.blogspot.com/2015/10/indefatigable-in-spreading-message-of.html">https://headingleylitfest.blogspot.com/2015/10/indefatigable-in-spreading-message-of.html</a><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0