Tlatchli Games

Dear JTOH Teams,  

Let us begin the journey through the Tlatchli games taking place at St. Cajetans on Friday April 19. Attached are the links to all study guides for all units in of this competition. Also attached to this link are lists of questions that will used in conjunction with each unit.

We suggest the following schedule to study the material. 

Week 1) Jan. 27- 31   Work On Poetry and Art Work

Begin Global Climate Unit (assign point person)

Week 2)  Feb.3-7             Work On Poetry and Art Work

Begin Global Climate Unit

Week 3) Feb. 10-14         Work On Poetry and Art Work

Begin Sacred Foods Study Guide (assign point person)

Week 4)  Feb.17-21         Work On Poetry and Art Work

                             Review Global and Food Guide

Week 5) Feb. 24-28    Mexico Guide ( assign point person)  

Week 6)  March 3-7   Mexico /Africa Guide point person)  

Week 7)  March 10-14      Africa / South West

 Week 8) March 17-20     South West Study Guide  

Week 9)  March 31-April 4    Review Global and Food

Week 10)  April 7-11             Review Global and Food

 

Week 11)  April 14-18             REVIEW ALL Guides !!!!!!!      

 

After Spring Break on Monday April 2  we will begin an intensive review of all study guides and prepare for the final Competition on Fri. April 19.
 
Please remember to attend community events to get  extra points for community service awards. 

Both Word documents of the Study guides and questions are posted here, if documents are to dificult to download ther are copies of each document as PDF.   

 
Blessings
Renee Fajardo

JTOH Co-ordinator


 

Southwest

SouthWest Study Guide (152 KB)

SouthWest Study Guide pdf (PDF 86 KB)

Southwest Questions (124 KB)

Southwest Questions pdf (PDF 140 KB)

Africa

Africa Study Guide (172 KB)

Africa Study Guide pdf (PDF 166 KB)

Africa Questions (267 KB)

Africa Questions pdf (PDF 295 KB)

Mexico

Mexico Study Guide (168 KB)

Mexico Study Guide pdf (PDF 203 KB)

Mexico Questions (263 KB)

Mexico Questions pdf (PDF 289 KB) 

Corn Mother

Corn Mothers Study Guide (2,591 KB)

Corn Mothers Study Guide pdf (PDF 1,748 KB)

Corn Mothers Questions (17 KB)

Corn Mothers Questions pdf (PDF 23 KB)

Global Climate change

Global Climate Change Study Guide (344 KB)

Global Climate Change Sites Study Guide pdf (PDF 375 KB)

Sacred Foods Sacred Sites 

Sacred Sites and Sacred Foods (3,749 KB)

Sacred Study Guide (PDF 1,762 KB)

Sacred Sites and Sacred Foods Questions (1,714 KB)

Sacred Study Questions (PDF 625 KB)

 

Poetry anthologies are due February 28th!!!

This is the 12th Anniversary of the JTOH Literary/Art Journal Competition.  Each school will earn points by:

a)      Turning in individual art work to be used in the anthology.  (100 points for the school)

b)      Turning in poetry, prose or short stories of 500 words or less. 

c)      (Up to eight pieces will be scored at 25 points each for a possible 200 points total) *More pieces may be turned in. At least one poem from your school must be about a global warming or an issue concerning water preservation locally or globally

d)     Hosting a Open Poetry/Spoken Word at your school or attending the Lalo Delgado/Mauricio Saravia poetry festival at MSU Denver on April 29  (300 points)

In addition to school awards -1st, 2nd or 3rd place in the categories of individual art work, prose and short stories will be awarded.

 

 

2013-14 JTOH    Sample Poems

 

Section I:  Lalo Delgado Poems

 

Stupid America

stupid america, see that chicano

with a big knife

on his steady hand

he doesn't want to knife you

he wants to sit on a bench

and carve christ figures

but you won't let him.

stupid america, hear that chicano

shouting curses on the street

he is a poet

without paper and pencil

and since he cannot write

he will explode.

stupid america, remember that chicanito

flunking math and english

he is a picasso

of your western states

but he will die

with one thousand masterpieces

hanging only from his mind.

 

 

 

 

Section II:  Japanes Haiku

 

Dew Evaporates 
And all our world is dew...so dear, 
So fresh, so fleeting” 
― Kobayashi Issa

 

“In the city fields 
Contemplating cherry-trees...
Strangers are like friends” 
― Kobayashi Issa

 

Many solemn nights 
Blond moon, we stand and marvel...
Sleeping our noons away” 
― Teitoku

 

“For a lovely bowl
Let us arrange these flowers...
For there is no rice” 
― Matsuo Bashō

 

“Standing still at dusk 
Listen . . . in far distances 
The song of froglings!” 
― Yosa Buson

Section III:  Native American Poems

 

“Sun Tracks“ by Atoni, Choctaw

“The Track of the sun
across the Sky
leaves its shining message,
Illuminating,
Strengthening,
Warming,
us who are here,
showing us we are not alone,
we are yet ALIVE!
And this fire…
Our fire…
Shall not die.”

 

“You Are Part Of Me” byLloyd Carl Owle (Cherokee)

You are part of me now
You touched me,
With your kindness and love
So enchanted.
Your soft lips are kind.
Your eyes glow with life.
I'm glad you touched me,
You're part of me now.

“COME ON THE TRAIL OF SONG” by EDA LOU WALTON

 

Come on the trail of song,

Leaving no footprints there

Over the rainbow bridge

Down the Mountain Stair.

Come on the trail of song,

Gods of the navajo,

Out of the sky-land

And the five worlds below.

 

“Grandfather Cries” by Charles Phillip Whitedog

“Grandfather, do you know me?
I am your blood.
The son of your son.
I come to ask you a question Grandfather.
Grandfather, don’t you know me?
Can I stop being Indian now?
There are others that want to be Indian,
And if they can start from nothing,
I should be able to stop from something?
Grandfather, don’t you know me?
Grandfather, I don’t look like you.
I don’t know what you know.
It would be easy for me to hide behind my paler skin.
No one would know the pain I feel,
Or see the tears I cry for your Great Grandchildren.
Grandfather, don’t you know me?
Grandfather, look what I have done to our world.
Mother Earth is on her knees.
The Snake and Owl rule the day.
I don’t understand the language you speak Grandfather.
Grandfather, don’t you know me?
Grandfather, I want my Pepsi, Levi’s and Porsche too.
I want to go where the others go,
And see the things they see too.
I don’t have time to dance in the old way Grandfather.
Grandfather?
Grandfather, why are you crying?
Grandfather, why are you crying?
Grandfather, please stop crying.
Grandfather, don’t you know me?”

“Native Commandments” by Jasper Saunkeah, Cherokee

Treat the Earth and all that dwell thereon with respect.

Remain close to the Great Spirit.

Show great respect for your fellow beings.

Work together for the benefit of all Mankind.

Give assistance and kindness wherever needed.

Do what you know to be right.

Look after the well being of mind and body.

Dedicate a share of your efforts to the greater good.

Be truthful and honest at all times.

Take full responsibility for your actions.

Let us greet the dawn of a new day

when all can live as one with nature

and peace reigns everywhere.

 

 Section IV:  African Poems

 

THE PRIDE TO BE AN AFRICAN” by Fasan paul

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of which everybody imitates
My Africa of which culture exceed the Greek
My Africa of which everyone is jealous of

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of enormous natural endowment
My Africa of Non-Violence
My Africa of Amorous populates

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of patriot men and women
My Africa of shelter and vintage hospitality
My Africa of great ancestral mythology

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa that bore fruits of black diamonds
My Africa which is a gift to the whole world
My Africa of great leadership

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of learned youths
My Africa of a bright generation
My Africa true tradition

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of black pageant women
My Africa of strong men
My Africa from who we all hail from
For every African deserves a Nobel Prize in
Existence.

“Africa” by Obi Onyenwe

Africa the motherland NATION
Africa the land of my forefather
Africa the land of my great ancestor once roamed
Africa the land of many communities
Africa the land of my birthplace
Africa the second largest continent on EARTH
Africa the land which everybody imitates
Africa the land which everyone talks about
Africa the land which everyone is jealous about
Africa the land that brings beauty in all of us
Africa the land of great leadership
Africa the land of great powers
Africa the land of bright futures
Africa the land of great traditions
Africa the land of good food
Africa the land of vast populations
Africa the land real precious diamonds
Africa the land of UNITY
Africa the land of hard working people
Africa the land that lord gave to us
Africa the land the land that i love
Africa the land that i will SOON return to

Africa's pain is my pain by Ayanle Isak

Africa dear Africa 
Your children are lonely and depressed
Africa dear Africa 
Your children are at war with each other
Africa dear Africa 
Your children are killing each other
Africa dear Africa
Your children are starving 
Africa dear Africa 
Your essence is pure but you are suffering
Africa dear Africa
your pain is my pain
So i sit here crying.

 

Section V:  Celtic Poems

 

 “To Some I Have Talked With By The Fire” by WB Yeats

 

While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,

My heart would brim with dreams about the times

When we bent down above the fading coals

And talked of the dark folk who live in souls

Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees;

And of the wayward twilight companies

Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content,

Because their blossoming dreams have never bent

Under the fruit of evil and of good:

And of the embattled flaming multitude

Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame,

And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name,

And with the clashing of their sword-blades make

A rapturous music, till the morning break

And the white hush end all but the loud beat

Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.

 

“The Mystery” This poem is ascribed to Amergin, a Milesian prince or druid who settled in Ireland hundreds of years before Christ

 

I am the wind which breathes upon the sea,

I am the wave of the ocean,

I am the murmur of the billows,

I am the ox of the seven combats,

I am the vulture upon the rocks,

I am the beam of the sun,

I am the fairest of plants,

I am the wild boar in valour,

I am a salmon in the water,

I am a lake in the plain,

I am a word of science,

I am the point of the lance of battle,

I am the God who created in the head the fire.

Who is it who throws light into the meeting on the mountain?

Who announces the ages of the moon?

Who teaches the place where couches the sun?

(If not I)

“The Scribe”

 

Over my head the woodland wall

Rises; the ousel sings to me.

Above my booklet lined for words

The woodland birds shake out their glee.

 

There's the blithe cuckoo chanting clear

In mantle gre from bouth to bough!

God keep me still! for here I write

A scripture bright in great woods now

 

“Princess of Happiness” by David Morris

 

She is called to life, but only one can see behind the veil;

many have tried but cannot understand the price to be paid;

for she alone knows that he has found her.

 

He is the one to fill her longing; she hides her

beauty, tenderness, and generosity but the secret is revealed;

he must love her throughout his life.

 

The universe opens and two hearts beat to the rhythm;

fear not my love, fear not; life will continue

because we have found each other.

 

Section VI:  Alaskan Poems

 

Three friends do ride” by James M. Hunter

The tanks are full the gear is packed
The trails await our transgressions
We are in Alaska, the land we love
Only our tires leave their impressions

Grips and Titans and Tri-Claws alike
Flipping the earth in the air
Down in the valleys and over the hills
Nothing does compare

Sportsman and Grizzlies three friends do ride
No fences blocking their way
Over, around and thru the woods
Forever do they play

The days never end in the midnight sun
The trails are seemingly endless
At the top of the peak we give thanks to God
For all this glory He has given us

 

It's fishing time” by James M. Hunter

A chartered boat, full of gear
We now enjoy the view
For it is but a long way out
And there's nothing else to do
Playing cards, telling jokes
Many hours just relaxing 
Is our fishing spot ahead?
My little boy keeps asking
Grab the poles and bait your hooks
Untie that fishing line
It's halibut that we've come to fish
And now it's fishing time
The first one bites, it weighs a ton
It takes 30 minutes to reel it in
The smile upon his lucky face
But we all do have to grin
Now everyone has caught two fish
That's the limit don't you know
We pull up anchor and set a course
Coolers full, we're going home

 

“Moved” by Tom Lowenstein

The great sea stirs me.

The great sea sets me adrift,

it sways me like the weed

on a river-stone.

The sky's height stirs me.

The strong wind blows through my mind,

It carries me with it,

so I shake with joy.

 

“Final Release”

Long will be my journey

on the earth.

It seems as if

I’ll never get beyond

the footprints that I make

 

“Days of My Youth”

Sadly I recall
the early spring of my youth:
the snow melted,
the ice broke,
long before usual.

Old men seek strength
in the thaw of younger days

 

Section VII:  Tupac Poems

 

“And 2Morrow

Today is filled with anger 
fueled with hidden hate 
scared of being outcast 
afraid of common fate 

Today is built on tragedies 
which no one wants 2 face 
nightmares 2 humanities 
and morally disgraced 

Tonight is filled with rage 
violence in the air 
children bred with ruthlessness 
because no one at home cares 

Tonight I lay my head down 
but the pressure never stops 
knawing at my sanity 
content when I am dropped 

But 2morrow I c change 
a chance 2 build a new 
Built on spirit intent of Heart 
and ideals 
based on truth 

and tomorrow I wake with second wind 
and strong because of pride 
2 know I fought with all my heart 2 keep my 
dream alive

Jada

u r the omega of my heart

the foundation of my conception of love 
when i think of what a black woman should be 
its u that i first think of 

u will never fully understand 
how deeply my heart feels 4 u 
i worry that we'll grow apart 
and i'll end up losing u 

u bring me 2 climax without sex 
and u do it all with regal grace 
u r my heart in human form 
a friend i could never replace

 

“I Cry

Sometimes when I'm alone
I Cry,
Cause I am on my own.
The tears I cry are bitter and warm.
They flow with life but take no form
I Cry because my heart is torn.
I find it difficult to carry on.

If I had an ear to confiding,
I would cry among my treasured friend,
but who do you know that stops that long,
to help another carry on.

The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry,
so painful and sad.
And sometimes…

I Cry
and no one cares about why.

“The Rose That Grew From Concrete”

 

Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.

“When Ure Hero Falls”

 

when your hero falls from grace 
all fairy tales r uncovered 
myths exposed and pain magnified 
the greatest pain discovered 
u taught me 2 be strong 
but im confused 2 c u so weak 
u said never 2 give up 
and it hurts 2 c u welcome defeat 

when ure hero falls so do the stars 
and so does the perception of tomorrow 
without my hero there is only 
me alone 2 deal with my sorrow 
your heart ceases 2 work 
and your soul is not happy at all 
what r u expected 2 do 
when ure only hero falls

 

Section VIII:  Chicano Poems

 

Loose Woman” by Sandra Cisneros

They say I’m a beast.
And feast on it. When all along
I thought that’s what a woman was.

They say I’m a bitch.
Or witch. I’ve claimed
the same and never winced.

They say I’m a macha, hell on wheels,
viva-la-vulva, fire and brimstone,
man-hating, devastating,
boogey-woman lesbian.
Not necessarily,
but I like the compliment.

The mob arrives with stones and sticks
to maim and lame and do me in.
All the same, when I open my mouth,
they wobble like gin.

Diamonds and pearls
tumble from my tongue.
Or toads and serpents.
Depending on the mood I’m in.

I like the itch I provoke.
The rustle of rumor
like crinoline.

I am the woman of myth and bullshit.
(True. I authored some of it.)
I built my little house of ill repute.
Brick by brick. Labored,
loved and masoned it.

I live like so.
Heart as sail, ballast, rudder, bow.
Rowdy. Indulgent to excess.
My sin and success–
I think of me to gluttony.

By all accounts I am
a danger to society.
I’m Pancha Villa.
I break laws,
upset the natural order,
anguish the Pope and make fathers cry.
I am beyond the jaw of law.
I’m la desperada, most-wanted public enemy.
My happy picture grinning from the wall.

I strike terror among the men.
I can’t be bothered what they think.
¡Que se vayan a la ching chang chong!
For this, the cross, the calvary.
In other words, I’m anarchy.

I’m an aim-well,
shoot-sharp,
sharp-tongued,
sharp-thinking,
fast-speaking,
foot-loose,
loose-tongued,
let-loose,
woman-on-the-loose
loose woman.
Beware, honey.

I’m Bitch. Beast. Macha.
¡Wáchale!
Ping! Ping! Ping!
I break things.

 

Section VIIII:  Asian Poems

 

 

Section VIIII:  “Famous People” Poems

 

Angelina Emily Grimké Weld - an American political activist, abolitionist, women's rights advocate, and supporter of the women's suffrage movement.

 

The Black Finger

I have just seen a beautiful thing 
Slim and still, 
Against a gold, gold sky, 
A straight cypress, 
Sensitive 
Exquisite,
A black finger 
Pointing upwards. 
Why, beautiful, still finger are you black? 
And why are you pointing upwards

 

The Eyes of My Regret

Always at dusk, the same tearless experience, 
The same dragging of feet up the same well-worn path 
To the same well-worn rock; 
The same crimson or gold dropping away of the sun 
The same tints, - rose, saffron, violet, lavender, grey 
Meeting, mingling, mixing mistily; 
Before me the same blue black cedar rising jaggedly to 
a point; 
Over it, the same slow unlidding of twin stars, 
Two eyes, unfathomable, soul-searing, 
Watching, watching, watching me; 
The same two eyes that draw me forth, against my will 
dusk after dusk; 
The same two eyes that keep me sitting late into the 
night, chin on knees 
Keep me there lonely, rigid, tearless, numbly 
miserable - 
The eyes of my Regret.

Gil Scott Heron - an American soul and jazz poet, musician, and author, known primarily for his work as a spoken word performer in the 1970s and '80

 

“The Bottle”

See that black boy over there, runnin' scared 
his ol' man's in a bottle. 
He done quit his 9 to 5 to drink full time 
so now he's livin' in the bottle. 
See that Black boy over there, runnin' scared 
his ol' man got a problem 
Pawned off damn near everything, his ol' 
woman's weddin' ring for a bottle. 
And don't you think it's a crime 
when time after time, people in the bottle.

See that sista, sho wuz fine before she 
started drinkin' wine 
from the bottle. 
Said her ol' man committed a crime 
and he's doin' time, 
so now she's in the bottle. 
She's out there on the avenue, all by herself 
sho' needs help from the bottle. 
Preacherman tried to help her out, 
she cussed him out and hit him in the head with a bottle. 
And don't you think it's a crime 
when time after time, people in the bottle.

See that gent in the wrinkled suit 
he done damn near blown his cool 
to the bottle 
He wuz a doctor helpin' young girls along 
if they wuzn't too far gone to have problems. 
But defenders of the dollar eagle 
Said "What you doin', Doc, it ain't legal," 
and now he's in the bottle. 
Now we watch him everyday tryin' to 
chase the pigeons away 
from the bottle. 
And don't you think it's a crime 
when time after time, people in the bottle.

“The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”

You will not be able to stay home, brother. 
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out. 
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip, 
Skip out for beer during commercials, 
Because the revolution will not be televised.


The revolution will not be televised. 
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox 
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions. 
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon 
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John 
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat 
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary. 
The revolution will not be televised.

 

The revolution will not be brought to you by the 
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie 
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia. 
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal. 
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs. 
The revolution will not make you look five pounds 
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

 

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May 
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run, 
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance. 
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32 
or report from 29 districts. 
The revolution will not be televised.

 

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down 
brothers in the instant replay. 
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down 
brothers in the instant replay. 
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being 
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process. 
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy 
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and 
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving 
For just the proper occasion.

 

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville 
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and 
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with 
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people 
will be in the street looking for a brighter day. 
The revolution will not be televised.


There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock 
news and no pictures of hairy armed women 
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose. 
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb, 
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom 
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth. 
The revolution will not be televised.

 

The revolution will not be right back after a message 
About a white tornado, white lightning, or white people. 
You will not have to worry about a dove in your 
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl. 
The revolution will not go better with Coke. 
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath. 
The revolution WILL put you in the driver's seat.

 

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised, 
will not be televised, will not be televised. 
The revolution will be no re-run brothers; 
The revolution will be live.