El Poema de la Semana
First Day At School
Y bienvenidos a todos (alumnado, familias, personal no docente,
profes ....) a este nuevo curso
escolar en el IES LOS NEVEROS
Queremos saludar especialmente
desde este blog a los alumnos y alumnas de
1º de ESO que se incorporan por primera vez
al centro, dedicándoles
el Poema de
la Semana.
Trata del primer día de cole, de las dudas, de la
incertidumbre, de todas esas cosas que pasan por nuestra cabeza cuando por primera vez nuestros padres
nos sueltan de la mano para dejarnos en
el patio de un colegio. Se refiere a ese primer momento en el que de verdad empezamos
nuestra aventura escolar. Comenzar el instituto es parecido. Nos ocurren casi
las mismas cosas y sentimos emociones similares:
Nos parece que estamos muy lejos de casa porque aun no
conocemos el camino,
" A million
billion willion miles from home"
Nos impresionan los
chicos y las chicas mayores en cuyos juegos y conversaciones parece que no
tenemos cabida:
Why are they all so
big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.
Incluso algunas palabras nuevas pueden confundirnos o
despertar nuestra imaginación atribuyéndoles significados fantásticos. Para el
protagonista de este poema las clases, "lessons" (en el poema
"lessins"), tienen lugar en "glassrooms" (habitaciones de
cristal)
What does a lessin
look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine!
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine!
Por suerte, nuestro protagonista, igual que todos vosotros,
confía en que sus profes le ayudarán y le acogerán con cariño:
I wish I could
remember my name
Perhaps the teacher
will read it for me.
Tea-Cher. The one who makes the tea.
Tea-Cher. The one who makes the tea.
Ya veis, los poemas, la literatura, los libros hablan de
nosotros. Nos ayudan a conocernos, a sentirnos menos solos, a compartir lo que
sentimos, lo que vivimos...
Queremos comenzar el curso invitándoos, a través de la
lectura, a viajar desde vuestro rincón preferido, a convertiros en heroínas y héroes, a experimentar toda clase de emociones
y sentimientos, a aprender otros idiomas...
Por cierto, como podéis observar abrimos la biblioteca y el
blog con un poema en inglés para que os animéis a leer en otra lengua.
Si tenéis alguna
dificultad no dudéis en consultar a
vuestra profe de inglés.
First Day At School
By Roger McGough
A million billion
willion miles from home
Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.
And the railings.
All around, the railings.
Are they to keep out wolves and monsters?
Things that carry off and eat children?
Things you don't take sweets from?
Perhaps they're to stop us getting out
Running away from the lessins. Lessin.
What does a lessin look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine!
I wish I could remember my name
Mummy said it would come in useful.
Like wellies. When there's puddles.
Yellow wellies. I wish she was here.
I think my name is sewn on somewhere
Perhaps the teacher will read it for me.
Tea-Cher. The one who makes the tea.
Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.
And the railings.
All around, the railings.
Are they to keep out wolves and monsters?
Things that carry off and eat children?
Things you don't take sweets from?
Perhaps they're to stop us getting out
Running away from the lessins. Lessin.
What does a lessin look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine!
I wish I could remember my name
Mummy said it would come in useful.
Like wellies. When there's puddles.
Yellow wellies. I wish she was here.
I think my name is sewn on somewhere
Perhaps the teacher will read it for me.
Tea-Cher. The one who makes the tea.
