Assessment One - Rehearsal Exercise

This piece is the product of an interview with Saaro. Due to the fact that the task included being a reluctant interviewee, I didn't gather heaps of information but did manage to get a few gems which have inspired this piece. My tactic throughout the interview was to be as specific as I could with the questions and to have many different questions prepared. One of the most fascinating facts I learned was that the first poetry Saaro wrote was about an imaginary cat in primary school, which inspired this piece.

I wanted to explore childhood moments which influence a desire for creative writing, as well as the self-doubt that can creep up when sharing one's own work. The piece has been written with an intention to blend the themes and styles of Saaro's writing and my own, particularly through the use of both prose and poetry.


My Cat

When Mrs Konheim told all the second-graders that they would be writing poetry, Ena imagined running to the library and picking out a book at random, engrossed with whatever topic it would be about. It didn't matter what; she would find it interesting. And then Mrs Konheim added those extra two words. Her poetry ruiners: "before lunch".

So, instead of the research Ena wanted to do, she looked around the classroom for inspiration, while the other kids jumped into the task. They'd be writing about anything that came to mind.

Frustrated that her own poetry would have to come out so randomly, Ena tried to take inspiration from somewhere.

Ena leaned across the table and whispered to Sally. "What are you writing about?"

"Swimming," said Sally. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know."

Then Mrs Konheim called for silence in the room.

What was that book she had read last night, for her reading record? Something about animals. No, cats, that was it. It was about a cat with something, or wearing something. She tried her best to remember before one of the sentences came to her: "He should not be here," said the fish in the pot, "he should not be here when your mother is not." And that sparked it. The Cat in the Hat, by Dr Seuss! It had been a good book, although she wasn't sure why a doctor had written a book about a cat in a hat. Didn't he have sick people to help?

And like that, it was settled. Ena would write poetry about a cat. She didn't have a cat, and Sally didn't have a cat either. Apparently, before Ena was born, her family had a cat, but it had run away. She would have to write about an imaginary cat.

She hadn't written poetry before. What were the rules? Mrs Konheim said that it didn't have to rhyme. What made it poetry, then? The Cat in the Hat rhymed, but that wasn't poetry, was it?

With a quick glance at the clock, Ena saw that lunchtime was only fifteen minutes away. Mrs Konheim was going to pick someone to read their poetry five minutes before the bell. That left - she did the maths on her fingers - ten minutes to write cat poetry.

She picked up her pencil and got to work.


If I had a cat she would sit in a tree

Sometimes she would bump my face while I am doing homework

Sometimes she would purr real loud

I wish I had a cat


If I had a cat

I would take her to the park

She would be scared of the dogs

but I would protect her


My cat would be black with white spots

or maybe black with brown spots

or maybe orange like Garfield

but only if she liked lasagne


I would call her Jingles

and I would dress her up

maybe in a top or some pants

but definitely not a hat


Ena didn't like her cat poetry. It had been rushed and had no feeling to it. She needed to read about real cats before she could make good cat poetry.

She held her breath when Mrs Konheim looked around, deciding who would share their words with the class. Then her heart stopped as the teacher's finger pointed at her. She had been chosen for this embarrassing job. Hers would be the worst. How could she ever live through sharing it?

But then Sally jumped up behind her and ran to the front of the class, her exercise book fluttering about in her hand as she held it from only the cover. She began to read.


I like to swim

I like to swim when it is hot

I like to swim when it is not

Swimming is fun


And with that, Sally was done. The whole class clapped, led by Mrs Konheim.

When the bell rang, Sally said, "Can I read yours?"

"It's not very good," said Ena. "Let's go play."

But Ena had to stop a smile from spreading on her face as they left the classroom.

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