Malika Booker makes her debut at Little London

Richard Wilcocks writes:

Rachel Davey and Malika Booker

Little London Academy has joined our Poetry in Schools project! 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.

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. 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.

Writing around the drawing

The second session came soon afterwards - 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."

The poem was 'I remember my father's hands' by the Palestinian - American poet Lisa Suhair Majaj. 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.

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.

Loudly and clearly

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.

 

Some comments

"I'm so proud of all of you!" Rachel Davey, class teacher.

"This was a great opportunity to express feelings." Dawn Parchment, cover supervisor.

"Excellent! It's the first time I've seen poetry like this." Srikanth Usha, parent.

Some pupil poetry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once again we are very grateful for the support shown Headingley LitFest by the Inner North West Area Management Committee of Leeds City Council