Dear Mum, BTEC
TYPE
PoemI know you don't get it
the pleasure I feel
when I push down the pedal
the turn of the wheel
the buzz of the sander
the whirl of the drill
I breathe in the wood
my heart starts to fill
No words. No numbers.
No wasps in my brain
just the weight of the hammer
the bulb of the plane.
my hands move
and things happen
I make grooves
and sing patterns
into pieces of trees
into plastic
and metal
feel the dust of the day
in my head start to settle
Sand. Repeat. Sand. Repeat
Touch. Feel. Smooth. Complete.
It's a language that I speak
one that's disappearing
in the forest of the school
my favourite lesson is a clearing
Eveything else feels like shoes
that don't fit.
I can't stare at a computer
I can't scribble while I sit
I have to be in it.
Touch it. Feel it
scratch my skin. Test my grip.
Show myself what real is.
Exams don't suit me.
I don't suit exams.
I understand the system
But, I'm drawing other plans.
So don't worry when I tell you
that Uni's not the path I see
I'll build a future for myself, Mum,
and you'll be proud of me.
VIDEOS
CLiPPA TEACHING SEQUENCES
Everything All at Once CLiPPA Teaching Sequence.pdf