The Yada Yada

This week’s lesson involved the power of observation. It involved an awkward 15 minute session in which we all just stared intently at each other and around us - but at the same time tried desperately not to make eye contact. We were told to "observe" the classroom and take notes. My notes ranged from the gender and ethnic makeup of the class, to the conversation blurbs that hang above our heads, and in between I wrote of the design scheme of the room, bags and toenails of girls in the room. Random? I know, but one can't help what they observe in a specific time span. At the end of the period, I had learned some random facts about our classroom: only one person was wearing a hat, only one person did not have some sort of bag, two were wearing bright colors . . . yada yada yada, you get the point. The list could go on forever, because every person is going to observe something new, something different, than the person before them. Such observation made me realize the vast differences in how we all perceive the world, specifically how I observe it. 

One of the aspects that will be a future part of research project will be an observation. I had not given much thought as to how this would be applicable to the SWCA, so the classroom observation made me realize I need to start brainstorming on how I will observe a tangible aspect of the SWCA. One idea that I have is to observe the writing center at my university, but how I will relate that to the SWCA has not yet been enlightened to me. 

The last challenge to our observation routine was to write a poem on said observation. I do not know why, but I am terrified of creative writing - probably because I am horrible at it! Although I may write well, my creative bone marrow has been sucked dry, much in the same way that although I may be Brazilian, I cannot play a lick of soccer. Thus, with such a rambling introduction, I would like to include my observation poem at the end of this blog:

I spy with my little eye

Something beginning with a C

Hanging in every class in our school

Its eyes boring into me

I spy with my little eye

Something beginning with a B

Orange, zebra, black and tiny

Each reflective of one’s personality

I spy with my little eye

Something beginning with an H

Round and round it goes

Asking students for a spin

I spy with my little eye

Something beginning with . . .

You know what?

I’m tired of this game

Every letter of the alphabet I could say

And still, it would never end