Schooling at home means my kitchen now serves several purposes: it feeds our family 3 meals a day, I run Sammsterdam from it, the counters are a temporary greenhouse space for vegetable seedlings, and now it is also a place for a 4th grader to go to school. I often stand at the island working on a recipe or work around the open space tidying up and my son works diligently at his desk on his online classroom assignments.
Last week, his teacher introduced a poetry unit and they have been exploring the different styles, meanings, and parts that make up a poem. Listening along to the workshops, I have learned a few new things as well. At the end of each session, they are asked to create their own poem using information and tips from the lesson or building on the previous days work. One day he told me to name an object and I said the first thing that I saw, which was my stand mixer not knowing it was for his assignment.
He wrote me a poem about the mixer I bought the first week we moved to Seattle and have used almost daily since. It's not as shiny as it used to be, it has chips in the enamel, and some days I wonder if it's mixing it's last batch of buttercream. But it turns out one delicious dish after another without fail so I can honestly say my mixer is one of the most used, most loved, and best investments I've made.
My 10 year old is an amazing poet and I hope you enjoy his work. Without further adieu...
Mixer
Old sleek one,
Waiting to be used, So old, Yet so smooth, Smooth as glass, I remember, The first time, I had a cookie, From it, I was so young, Yet it was so good, The mixer, It was black, Dark, dark black, Just like night, With little pieces, Of metal, Exposed like stars, On the mixer. By, the bakers son
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