In asking my students to make crowns, I realize the origin of monarchy–good crown makers are hard to come by.
For an exercise in rhetoric, I asked a group of students who had finshed the assignment early to make enough crowns for half of the class. With specific instructions, drawn on the board (because an earlier class had struggled, too, so I thought I’d make it clear), I watched as otherwise high honor students struggled to conceptualize cutting in a zig-zag pattern, taping two papers together, fitting a length of paper to their own head (or another student) and taping that, too, into a loop.
My theory is that original societies wanted to be democracies, but when they tried to make symbols of citizenship–the crown–only a few were able to make one. Everyone else figured they should listen to that guy, thus creating a king. When the ruler had a son, he realized the kid would never get his own decent crown so he just gave him his own. Thus, a system based on birthright.
I doubt few historians will accept my belief, but the story holds true in my experience. Craft is hard. I have spent too much time this fall at conferences promoting standards based learning, and the concept of having students repeat skills (formative) to attain mastery (summative) is logical, but scary in practice. Highlighting specific elements over and over tends to lay raw what students can and cannot do (which is the point). Fortunately, crown making is not part of the Common Core.
An interesting test is to have students complete the “Crown of Sonnets”. The crown consists of seven sonnets centered on a single person, often around a single theme. For example, Jenny and love. Each sonnet explores a different aspect of the theme. The neat trick, though, is that the last line of the last poem is the first line of the first poem. Neat.
I had no idea such a thing existed.
Even cooler is the “Heroic Crown of Sonnets”. What makes it heroic? It’s fifteen sonnets and the last sonnet is composed of THE FIRST LINES OF THE FIRST FOURTEEN!
You can find a compact handout on these two crown here. Eric Chevlen wrote a book called “Triple Crown” where he writes a heroic crown of heroic crowns of heroic crowns (I think). Gimmick or art, I have no idea.
All of this might be above your student’s heads. Even writing a sonnet might stretch them, if only because you are adding new, bad poetry to the world. There is, though, value in such things. Two ideas:
First, group seven students together and have them write seven different sonnets (or any style of poetry) on a single person, theme or both (it depends on how strict to the structure you want to be–me, I like structure as the restrictions force them to dig deeper, which ultimately leads to freedom). They have to work together, while still offering independent takes on a shared idea.
Second, you could have them find seven poems that do this. Seven poems around the theme of love. What is learned? Either have each student find seven poems, or seven kids find a poem each. As they come together, depth is achieved. Lesson: The body of literature, not a single work, is what humans need. Keep reading.