Table Service

A common household object became the focus for this lesson, while studying Joy Harjo’s poem, Perhaps The World Ends Here.

Lesson Note: Harjo once commented, “I feel strongly that I have a responsibility to all the sources that I am: to all past and future ancestors, to my home country, to all places that I touch down on and that are myself, to all voices, all women, all of my tribe, all people, all earth, and beyond that to all beginnings and endings. In a strange kind of sense [writing] frees me to believe in myself, to be able to speak, to have voice, because I have to; it is my survival.” Her work is often autobiographical, informed by the natural world, and above all preoccupied with survival and the limitations of language.

Ms. Taylor, 8th Grade
1st Period

Sabastian P.

The table is filled with sarrow
and laughter. Filled with the dreams of
my parents and siblings. the table has
seen people come and go. The table
has heard the cries and joy of my family.

Samuel O.

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
We forgive and forgive on it. We divorce on it. Things are made
and discarded there.
Games are played there. It’s where we improve and disappoint.
It’s where we make big decisions. College, Life and Death, and
Deaths are cuased on this table. People made and ended. Lives
You might see it as a table, but it means so much more.
The world begins at table. No matter what we must eat to live.

Josephine P.

Nothing happens at the table.
The tables longs to be full.
That’s a special treat for the holidays.
The table has a carpet under it.
Usually you’ll find a kid or two playing under it.
The table does cherish the happy moments.
Like when my sister and I signed a peace treaty.
Though the table never complains.
It stands there.

Keith S.

The kitchen table. Where food is laid and devoured.
The chairs are removed and thanks given in the other room.
Laying alone, only visited when food is needed. Nothing
really else happens at my table. Just eating and eating,
and eating and eating day after day.

Ms. Taylor, 8th Grade
Period 2

Table Poem
Sarah C.

Everyday I eat at my lunch table,
It’s the part of the day that I look
forward to most.
I look around at the table and
see my friends and think so many
memories have been made here
We smile and laugh and sometimes
fight, but in th end we love eachother.
Soon it iwll all come to an end, and
the table will just be a monument
of our friendship and will soon become
a table for other people but we only
see this table as our own
Even though we are graduating
we will never forget this table, we
will cherish and hold these memories
close to us, and this tble is what
helped maek us the friends we
are today.

Megan M.

First table, painted table, sticky table, old
Eating table, teething table, homework table, cold
People come and people go
Sitting at this table while we get old
Memories attached to a certain seat
Sitting down while new people eat
No table, new table, scratched table, choke
Hated table, truth table, news table, broke

Five Things That Occur
Natalee B.

My table is the venue of political debates
Life debates, money debates, ALL debates
It is the place where we lay down our culture
For all to eat and for the dog to steal
Flowers from celebration of life and death
As time flows by the table grows bitter
Until all the seats are empty
Where only our memories live.

My Table
Lydia S.

My table is mostly a place of joy
A safe place, the center of our home
Meals and laughter shared with family and friends
Crafts are made for pleasure
Adorning the kitchen and dining room
Friends come and bake at this table
Or drink hot chocolate in the afternoon
Eating tasty treats or drinking delightful drinks
The dog makes sure the floor is always clean
Movies are watched
Sad, comical or true
Embraces are given freely
Wars are started and ended here
Holidays, enjoyed
We’ll always have fond memories of
The table that held us upright through our days

Sara J.

The kitchen table in my
house, was used for many things

After everyday of school, it was
there, that I ate a snack

It was there where I did my homework,
even though I didnt want to

At that table I ate food with my family,
Swapping stories over rice and fish

On its surface, was history, scratches
and varnish crumbles, white streaks and stains

Our table could fit anybody at it, 7 or
event 8 so we could eat together

Ms. Taylor, 8th Grade
Period 3

Our Table…
Sam O.

This is our lunch table.
I sit with my friends
We eat lunch
but we do so much more.
It’s not really good
but we’ve done too much to forget about this place.
Prank phone calls, doing last-minute homework
steal food from eachother…toss IDs at eachother
& anything & everything. We bully eachother.
but in a friendly way.
We make jokes & we laugh like goats
especially when gross jokes are made
We insult eachother & we joke
about them even more but in
a friendly way.

My Lunch Table
Lizette S.

Where we laugh and
Where everyone does their
homework for the next classes.
So many memories in
2 years.
Where just the right people
sit at
Most of the time left alone
until 11 o’clock hits.

Karen B.

Our eating table is not eaten at. WE leave our hardships at the table,
Our mail and piles of books and new stations and sympathy cards.

We come to the table when we love to talk, to go through novels-worth
of paperwork and scream at eachother simply because no one is close to there.

We’ve lost histories, learned of different kitchen table that we would
never see again, in far away lands more beautiful than here.

We shove our posessions under the table, our hopes and dreams, so
we can fill the space with those we love and their own ambitions.

We can scream and cry and lose and love together, for one day
because then we share our kitchen table with anyone.

Dawn P.

The table of my youth
I didn’t know your significance back then
The day my height
became taller than yours

Ms. Taylor, 8th Grade
Period 5

Family Times
Jack D.

This is where me and my siblings talk about the internet,
while my parents watch TV in the living room.
While we are talking, our dad will tell us to be quiet,
multiple times.

This used to be where my sister would ridicule us
on chewingn with our mouth open or being too loud.
But she is gone now to college,
She misses the good meals from my mom.

She is just eating microwaved food for dinner.
But she goes out with her new friends now.

The House’s Heart
Alejandro S.

The table, is
also known as
my kitchen’s island

Food like tomatoes
have been found
on it

Long family talks
have been spoken there

My dad’s delicious
meals have been
consumed there

I spend most of my time at
my summer sitting

For this table is
the heart of the
house, in the middle
Joy, alive and existing
from the very start

Aiden Z.

The table
The table remembers
The table never forgets
Never forget

Leslie S.

No matter what is going on in your life,
there is always that one place you can sit in peace
There is no violence, even when holding a knife
Where you sit with family, mother, son, cousin & niece.

Ms Taylor, 8th Grade
Period 7

The Elephantable
Fintan S.

There is a table
a good, speical table
That has memories
It remembers
like an elephant
It moves liek an
From place to palce
Doesn’t matter
where we are
we laugh
At our memories

My Abnormal Stance
Glennemil R.

I made a desk when I was 10
My church gave me old supplies
I had nowhere to do my homework
I had nowhere to eat
I had nowhere to play
Then I changed it.

My table is uneven
The couch tattered over
the years. It allows
me to live a worse
life than the others.
My family grew aprt,
Since we never had a place to talk

My table is my seclusion, my mom got a table for her books
Don’t have a bed. This spot is the only one I have to sleep on
the couch every night. Living cna be hard but however I made
myself a place

Isabel A.

Sitting at our table
With the same view I always see.
Ten set their minds to win and only nine will make it.
The same dealer shuffles until we all complain.
If the poor fool didnt have the guts to ask out the
beautiful lady I woudn’t know him.
As numbers and faces flp by we all look around.
One of us has to lose.
It doesn’t matter if we’re friends and it doesn’t matter
if we’re lovers because we’re all losers till I get four
queens it’s how the game works.



“Writing poetry makes me feel like I can see myself, like I can see my reflection, but not in a mirror, in the world. I write and I know I can be reflected.”
-Oscar S.

“Writing poetry makes me feel free.”
-Buenda D.

“Writing poetry is like your best friend.”
-Jessica M.