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Blackout poem

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POV of Author

“Harlan Granger says he doesn't want you to hang him on his property,” the sheriff said. But they did it anyway. TJ was hanged as well as his family. The Logans watched from the woods in silence. They never really got over watching him get hanged. Even the fact that Granger sued the Wallaces for hanging him there did not change the fact that they lost a friend and his family.

30 years later, Cassie Logan put her experiences in a book and sold them in the North. She enjoyed being able to help spread change. She never forgot TJ.

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https://www.brookings.edu/blog/up-front/2020/07/27/the-demographics-of-racial-inequality-in-the-united-states/

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I did steal a story
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1f_3EWx9ARdACJzVALxXCU_CuVKtlohjCFcm_k4inLUc

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For my choice board project, I decided to find some short stories related to the book. In researching, I came across an article from The Atlantic. Scores of emails have arrived from readers responding to Ta-Nehisi’s request for “your stories, your experiences with racism and its physical consequences.” I read through the article and pulled out the umm, cleanest one’s.

Here's the article: (some of the stories have swearing and the n-word)

https://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2015/07/your-stories-of-racism/398117/

This is from a reader in Atlanta:

In 1982, when I was 13 years old, I wanted to go to a comic book store in a section of Brooklyn called Canarsie. At the time Canarsie was ethnic white working class. I got off at the bus stop and started walking to the comic book store. A car stopped and a man got out and yelled at me to get out of his neighborhood. I distinctly remember him telling me, “If I came to your neighborhood I would be jumped.”

As I walked away I turned back to look at him going into his car to get a stick or some kind of blunt instrument. I realized then that he wanted to make sure I never came back to his neighborhood again. He chased me down the street. While running I saw an elderly white woman and her black caretaker sitting outside. I ran towards them and the man turned around and walked away.

This one is an reader in central florida:

Crazy. Today is Sunday, July 5th. About two hours ago, I saw a tweet from Bomani Jones about Ta-Nehisi’s piece “Letter to My Son” and read it of course. It was a break from some work I was completing. I saw the request for personal stories about “The Talk.” (One of the commandments my mother gave me: When I get pulled over, pull over in a populated area so there will be witnesses.) I thought I would email a story later this week. I resumed my work but realized I needed a book I had left at the office. It’s about 20 minutes from my house, so I hopped in the car.

The ride there was smooth, as I listened to the new Jazzy Jeff/🤬 Boogie mixtape “Summertime Vol 6.” On the way back, I turned onto an arterial road with a speed limit of 45 MPH. Then I saw a police car trying to ride in what would normally be my blind spot. I figured he was trying to check me for speeding, which I was not. He stayed there for a while, then he got behind me, but kept a good distance. I figured he was running my tags and would find nothing. I stopped at the next light. When the light turned green, his lights went on, joined by another police vehicle that had gotten behind him.

I cross the intersection, still not thinking they will pull me over. At the intersection there’s a gas station. I pull into it and adjacent to the car wash. Both vehicles follow me in. I am 35 and have been pulled over plenty of times. Too many times. I am a vet, so I roll my window down, put the car in park and turn off the engine. One of the officers is yelling commands, so I look in my side view and see that he has his gun drawn.

He yells “Put your right hand out of the window.” I already have both hands out of the window. “Open the door with your right hand.” I go to use my left hand, which would be easier given that he wants me to open my door from the outside. He yells it again. I do it his way. Then he tells me to get out of the car.

I get out, face the officers and ask them “What’s the problem? What’s going on? Why is your gun drawn?” Not given any answers, I’m told to turn around, keep my hands up, use my right hand to lift the collar of my t-shirt to show that I do not have a gun tucked in my waistband. Even though I have been pulled over plenty of times, all of these instructions are starting to sound like a bad Twister game.

Then I’m told to walk backwards. The gun is still pointed at me. Then the pat-down ensues. I ask my same questions. I’m finally told that someone, driving a car like mine, pulled a gun on someone in the neighborhood. The other officer walks to my vehicle. He asks for my ID. My wallet is on my front passenger seat, a fact that the other officer concurs from walking around my car.

We walk up to my car so I can get my ID. I am fuming. I get my wallet and slam my door. “Calm down, I could be worse,” says the other officer. I say, “I’m stopped here. Gun drawn on me. You’re right. I could be shot.” He responds, “You don't understand.” I bite my tongue before I go off. I don’t understand? It’s a Sunday afternoon and here I am standing in a gas station parking lot, with my hands on my head, after having a gun pulled on me and patted down by an officer, all while another officer circled my vehicle with his hand on his weapon. He had a point; I guess the threat of being shot is better than being shot.

The officer says to me, “Do you live around here?” I reply “No.” He’s holding my ID, which has my address printed on it. “Do you have friends and family around here?” “Yes.” “Don’t you want us checking out reports of guns being pulled on people?” I don’t answer. Why respond to stupid stuff like that? He hands me back my ID. I get into my vehicle, turn on my car, A/C, Summertime Vol. 6, check my mirrors and drive out of the gas station.

The path I drive to exit takes me past the two officers and their vehicles. They haven’t left yet. The second officer is leaning into the passenger window of the first officer and they are talking. I guess going to find the “real criminal” driving around in a car like mine isn’t that important.

From another reader, in northern California:

I’m a member of the Horde and used to comment as Baiskeli. I came to the U.S. as an African immigrant when I was 18. I was familiar with racism, coming from a former British colony where structures laid in place during colonialism still propagate themselves. But I never felt racism as viscerally as I did when a cop pointed a gun at me three months after arriving in the U.S.

I had the misfortune of jogging early in the morning through my almost all-white neighborhood in small city near Boston. There was no crime in progress; a cop just thought I looked suspicious, pointed a gun at me and forced me to the ground while peppering his orders with lots of curse words. He demanded ID and grilled me about “what I was doing in the neighborhood.” Then he left me with a sarcastic “have a nice day.”

Since then I’ve had a few more incidents—“random” driving stops, job and rental discrimination, etc—but none as visceral as that incident. The really scary incidents have been interactions with police. In 2004, my white wife (fiancee at the time) and I were walking where she lived in Brookline and a cop driving the other way did a quick U-turn and drove up almost on the curb. He asked my wife “Are you OK?” and she replied “umm, yes.” He asked her again and then gave her a look of disgust and me a glare that could kill, and then roared off.

What does it mean when people whom we entrust with the ultimate power—the power to take life—view certain people like us not worthy of basic rights, as automatically suspect? (Though quite a few times the treatment improved as soon as people realize I’m a first generation African immigrant vs African-American, which shows the depth of hate/distrust reserved for African Americans.) One of the ways I’ve dealt with it has been reading a lot of American history—especially centered around the Civil War and Reconstruction—and Ta-Nehisi’s blog was an invaluable resource.

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https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1OsRJgbXUdvOyLx217ckRmJNyvHCazL_0CvEs9JXOUwc/edit

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News Report In Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry

Strawberry Roberry

Lately in Strawberry, shopkeeper Mr. Barnett was killed by a group of boys robbing his store. The boys smashed an axe on his head and abused his wife. Sheriff only caught one of the boys, T.J. Avery, and he is now in bars.

Everyone FUMED after cotton fire

Also, a fire started in a family owned cotton field. Everyone helped to put it out, even Mr. Granger, and Wallaces. I think the reason they were helping the African Americanswas not because they were NICE, but because they thought it would spread to their houses.

Trying to ROLL with it

Local man, and owner of a cotton field was shot and run over by a horse wagon. Another man, and a boy were there with the injured father when it happened. A truck drove over to them and tried to shoot the father. The boy let go of the wagon, and it rolled over his father’s leg. After, the father’s leg was broken, and he was shot, but he wasn’t injured from the bullet.

That’s all we have for today, and remember don’t get cotton camera, or you’ll be in prison, like T.J.

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Chap 12

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Fire

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Choice board 1

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Get access to files anywhere through secure cloud storage and file backup for your photos, videos, files and more with Google Drive.

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The fire scene, when it started raining.

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Choice board 2

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Create a new document and edit with others at the same time -- from your computer, phone or tablet. Get stuff done with or without an internet connection. Use Docs to edit Word files. Free from Google.

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FKJMNJ8tiYAyEHsV4wy19CgFk5nVLzyRaKzIMok9p-M/edit

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Research

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Ik it says google drive but if you click it works trust me

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Get access to files anywhere through secure cloud storage and file backup for your photos, videos, files and more with Google Drive.

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Choice board 3

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Make a map

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https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/17PIVcyVLRkaN1CqgRoq5DTX50FvCGERCRL-L0ngcZlg/edit

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DK2txBwTkrmqSZTf-GIo-xe43rZtwYSaK6QHApta0ko/edit

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/12eANdZOXBsKS35Bx95VpUzcRruQXsDKqHCS3g8vmrc4/edit

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nbBCFfs0oEq7O_30FzWUZ_8eoDqkXmqTKJ1gGqb4bNo/edit

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Newspaper article related to theme slideshow -Will

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Newspaper article related to theme slideshow -Will

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Erm- here you go people

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Hopefully this works!

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Create a new document and edit with others at the same time -- from your computer, phone or tablet. Get stuff done with or without an internet connection. Use Docs to edit Word files. Free from Google.

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Rory Dunn

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Blackout Poem

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Ehem-
Here

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I did a black out poem.

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_FtjYl1TMiXB9eB1GnnxIh5oIhxBMt2qh69Ca_vwPAw/edit

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https://www.newsweek.com/42-cows-killed-lightning-strike-that-also-hit-farmer-1594566

This story is similar to what happened to the Logans when their farm caught on fire. The only differences are that the lightning hit the farmer and killed animals instead of cotton

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#whenispapaandstaceycomingback #I’mworried

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Rahul Kadia

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Rewrite a Ending:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/18nBF3FTUHlxux7JoMYuG4iE2k7kdJ0jhzUlW09lkQJs/edit

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Lilian Jean’s dad grabbed my arm and attempted to twist it, instead I grabbed his arm and I threw him across Strawberry. I ran to where he was lying and said “You are grabbing someone’s arm who works in a field all day and has to walk 4 miles a day. Think Mr. Simms think!!” I then walked away as everyone else in Strawberry’s gaze fell upon me. Big Ma grabbed me by my shoulder and whispered into my ear and said “You taught that man a lesson which he deserved, but we don’t wanna get oiled alive like them Berrys so let’s go.” We went back to the wagon and went away to go back to the farm.

Fan fiction of when Cassie and Big ma and Stacy went to strawberry

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Cassie got kicked out of the store when she complained about being ignored and she went outside and was walking along the sidewalk when Lillian Jean bumped into Cassie. Mr. Simms appeared when he heard Lillian Jean yelling at Cassie to apologize. Mr. Simms demanded Cassie apologize to Lillian. Mr. Simms pushed Cassie onto the road when Papa was in a taxi and saw Mr. Simms push Cassie onto the road. Papa ran after Mr. Simms because Mr. Simms started running away from Papa. Papa was running after him and he jumped on Mr. Simms and started beating him up. Mr. Simms pulled out a gun on Papa and Papa got hold of it and the next thing Cassie heard was BAAAAM!! Papa called Cassie over and Stacey, Big Ma, Cassie, Papa, and T.J got in the car and headed back home before the police caught them. Once they got home from Strawberry they went inside their house and Little Man and Christopher John and Mama ran towards Papa excited to see him.

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News article

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Create a new document and edit with others at the same time -- from your computer, phone or tablet. Get stuff done with or without an internet connection. Use Docs to edit Word files. Free from Google.

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Idk if the link will work but I chose 3 poems and explained how the represent the story.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Create a new document and edit with others at the same time -- from your computer, phone or tablet. Get stuff done with or without an internet connection. Use Docs to edit Word files. Free from Google.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Create a new document and edit with others at the same time -- from your computer, phone or tablet. Get stuff done with or without an internet connection. Use Docs to edit Word files. Free from Google.

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Get access to files anywhere through secure cloud storage and file backup for your photos, videos, files and more with Google Drive.

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Caged Bird

BY MAYA ANGELOU

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wing

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn

and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

Freedom

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Freedom will not come

Today, this year

Nor ever

Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right

As the other fellow has

To stand

On my two feet

And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say,

Let things take their course.

Tomorrow is another day.

I do not need my freedom when I’m dead.

I cannot live on tomorrow’s bread.

Freedom

Is a strong seed

Planted

In a great need.

I live here, too.

I want my freedom

Just as you.

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1626JvJTOCSa6Zph4U5xhULmHAFOPjiWSn-Mso6Yrr8s/edit

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1OiDNtWvKq4Ctm_VZghf6agsHC8zm0pVX0TxKmkZv3l4/edit

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“today I passed you by
our shoulders almost touched
as your eyes diverted”

“Today I stopped trying to be 'someone' for somebody
who never thought of me as anyone appreciated and important to them.”

“Inside I know the space I had for them is now crushed and broken.”

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poems/friend/lost/

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poems/friend/lost/

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Poems with similar themes as Roll of Thunder Hear my cry

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MVdtv0iI7RaA8TN6MVCRmywggks8dq6M6Zl4eqVOZaw/edit

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Create a new document and edit with others at the same time -- from your computer, phone or tablet. Get stuff done with or without an internet connection. Use Docs to edit Word files. Free from Google.

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I chose a map of the Logan land for my 5-8 choice board.

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https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/07/03/us/george-floyd-protests-crowd-size.html

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Map of strawberry

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Current Events
(Article link)
https://www.pascov.org/blog/2020/8/9/reading-about-race-and-ethnicity

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Poetry

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Map

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CAGED BIRD BY MAYA ANGELOU
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

LIFE DOESNT FRIGHTEN ME BY MAYA ANGELOU

Shadows on the wall
Noises down the hall
Life doesn't frighten me at all

Bad dogs barking loud
Big ghosts in a cloud
Life doesn't frighten me at all

Mean old Mother Goose
Lions on the loose
They don't frighten me at all

Dragons breathing flame
On my counterpane
That doesn't frighten me at all.

I go boo
Make them shoo
I make fun
Way they run
I won't cry
So they fly
I just smile
They go wild

Life doesn't frighten me at all.

Tough guys fight
All alone at night
Life doesn't frighten me at all.

Panthers in the park
Strangers in the dark
No, they don't frighten me at all.

That new classroom where
Boys all pull my hair
(Kissy little girls
With their hair in curls)
They don't frighten me at all.

Don't show me frogs and snakes
And listen for my scream,
If I'm afraid at all
It's only in my dreams.

I've got a magic charm
That I keep up my sleeve
I can walk the ocean floor
And never have to breathe.

Life doesn't frighten me at all
Not at all
Not at all.

Life doesn't frighten me at all.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/life-doesnt-frighten-me-by-maya-angelou

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/i-know-why-the-caged-bird-sings-by-maya-angelou

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This is Cassie going sicko mode on twitter.
https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1D3s9xXdOWatbOk-vjhagMGHTHjYsLJTeX8E71MWWN50

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My two poems I chose

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This is my drawing of the map

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Chapters 5-8 black out poem

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Big Ma allows Cassie, Stacey and  T.J. go with her  while she sells some goods in Strawberry. Uncle Hammer is happy  that Cassie stood up to the shop owner but gets mad when he hears that a  man hurt her. Mr. Granger has Mama fired from her teaching job, because she thinks she is so much smarter than the person who wrote the books.

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Choice Board Poem

Rahul Kadia

Mood changes rapidly

Anger, needs revenge

Forced and pushed down

Goes down in the woods

Fury trickles down

Kicks are kicked

Punches are thrown

The winner is Cassie

Queen of the throne

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Instagram post

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https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/15WPd1Adbvn7wjIXrAcqMLMYXugQCMb6AZ8HVdRndnfs/edit

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Create a new document and edit with others at the same time -- from your computer, phone or tablet. Get stuff done with or without an internet connection. Use Docs to edit Word files. Free from Google.

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https://www.post-journal.com/life/viewpoints/2020/09/the-bus-is-in-a-ditch/
I had a news article about a bus in a ditch. That was something that stood out to me in chapters 1-4.

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(not my favorite moment, but it really stuck out to me)

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(not my favorite moment, but it really stuck out to me)

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Ariana Aguirre

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Comic Strip

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Bad drawing of the rolled over bus in the rain.

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By Ike Von Behren

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When the bus got stuck in the mud- darby

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MxA0znRkMN968ZFa8tmKWO296l3TG-8-ofo2fHuipHs/edit

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I walked into the crowded room, in the front stood Ms. Crocker. I scurried around to find the cleanest seat, which I sat on. Once everyone was seated, Ms. Crocker started talking about how she was expecting a lot from us, and that's what she was going to teach us. After a while, I was starting to get pretty bored. However, Ms. Crocker said something that made me jump. She said we would get our book! I had never had my book I knew how to read, but I never owned a book! I was surprised. Never in my life, I thought those crazy whites would give us anything, but I guess I'm wrong! I was excited for a minute until I saw the condition of the book. I was disgusted. I could tell everyone else in the class was also not pleased with the state of the books. The book was all torn up, and pages were ripped. There were scratches and holes in the cover. Ms. Crocker made us swear an oath that we will take care of our books, then she started to call people's names. When I was called, I was handed a book I dearly asked for.

"Can I have another one?"

Ms. Cocker turned into flames and yelled, "You should be grateful to the young man."

My book was covered with doodles and a ripped cover, but what I saw when I turned the cover was even worse.

A chart showed the quality of the books and whom it would go to, and what got me mad was that the blacks would get the worst books. I was filled with anger and wanted to punch something. Why would they give us a bad book just because of our race? We are just living like everyone else. Sometimes I wish I had the same rights as the whites. Then I could have a good education and a good book. I wanted to get rid of this book because I would see how we get the worst books every time I turned the cover. I slammed the book on the floor and stomped on it. I ignored Ms. Crocker's yelled and kept on stomping. I felt pretty good about stomping the book, but then I felt hands pull me up from the ground. I saw that Cassey was standing up for me. She was telling Ms. Croker about what was behind the cover, but Ms Croker didn't listen. She just got more angry. After everything I was relieved I didn’t die but also mad. Why would people like me get poor books and white people get new books, we never did anything. However, I was happy I got out of this mess alive thanks to Casey. I just wish one day everyone could be equal.

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1U3gz5UibWQ9KRG7IW9EKkj6AKv6Aon2etY9Tx8JylYk/edit?usp=sharing

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This is my favorite scene where mama tells Cassie that she has grown up a little bit after Lillian Jean and her dad were being mean to her

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Create a new document and edit with others at the same time -- from your computer, phone or tablet. Get stuff done with or without an internet connection. Use Docs to edit Word files. Free from Google.