2-A-2

= Home > Activity 2-A-2: Where I'm From=

Instructions:

 * 1) Read the poem Where I'm From by George Ella Lyons. If you wish, you can also listen to the author read her poem by clicking on the speaker next to the words "Listen to George Ella read the poem."
 * 2) Compare this to some student examplesbased on this poem.
 * 3) In a word processing document, w rite your own I am from… poem following the basic structure provided in the examples. Use images and metaphors for multiple senses. You may use this templateas a guide for your poem.
 * 4) Post your poem to the course wiki:
 * Click the ** Edit ** tab in the upper-right corner.
 * Scroll down the page until you see the first empty Where I'm From Poem space.
 * Highlight the " Enter your name here. " text and type your name.
 * Copy your poem text from the word processing document. Highlight the " Paste your poem here. " text and paste your poem.
 * Press ** Save ** on the Editor bar.
 * 1) Comment on at least two other people's poems. In your comments, note any images that stood out to you from the poem and compare your own experiences to those of your peers. To comment:
 * Click the ** Edit ** tab in the upper-right corner.
 * Scroll down the page until you see the comment section under the poem you want to comment on.
 * Type your comments followed by your first name and last initial.
 * Press ** Save ** on the Editor bar.

Where I'm From Poems

 * Name:** Sara Bishel

I am from cellos and trumpets, vocal cords and perfect ears. I am from a Nebraska dirt farm, a school Superintendent, and a PhD Engineer. I am from the boy with an 8th grade education, the Mail Carrier in war and in life.
 * Poem:**

I am from mountains and rivers, roses and hugs. I am from tacos, slideshows, and opening One Christmas Gift At a Time.

I am from Laura Ingalls Wilder and Johnny Tremain, I am from horse camps and moving vans, Christmas card relationships and Just one more castle/cathedral/museum!

I am from Romans 8:38 “…neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future…” (NIV) I am from smiles and encouragements, congratulations and you can do anything.

Hi Sara, I am also an "opening one Christmas gift at a time" person!!! My husband was surprised the first time he came to my parents' house and opened presents with us, but I think that tradition really makes you appreciate what you get and also lets the gift givers see the excitement on the other family members' faces! I also really enjoy the Bible verse you mentioned, and I agree that encouragements can really make a difference! ~Kristen M.
 * Comments:**

Sara--I loved your inclusion of "opening One Christmas Gift At a Time." That is a tradition that we started with my children, because my husband and I wanted them to attend not just to their own gifts but others as well. They love this tradition, and we have to do it exactly the same every year, in the same order. I had no idea 23 years ago that it would become so important to them. Jan T-W

Sara--Laura Ingalls Wilder--I lived on her books when I was young, and I totally forgot about it until I read your poem. Thanks for the fond memories you brought up for me. I feel I can identify with many portions of your childhood, the rural elements, the religious elements, and the emphasis on music, all of which my younger years included. Thanks for sharing your poem. Hilary Q.

Sara-- It's wild that so many people have the commented on the tradition of opening only one Christmas present at a time. I made the assumption that every family did it that way until we had Christmas with my sister-in-law for the first time last year. She sorted out all the gifts into piles for each person, and then when every one was assembled she wanted us to all start opening the gifts at the same time. I wasn't liking the feeling of it because my Christmas tradition was being ruined! I was going to let it go when my brother stepped in and explained that that wasn't how we did it in our home. I was amazed he said anything at all because he is a doting husband, but I guess this was one thing from his past life that he wasn't going to change! --Kristina A.


 * Name:** Kristen Manderachi

I am from fake plastic food in a Fisher-Price miniature play kitchen, from Play-Doh, Starter Jackets (with clinkers), TGIF (Family Matters, Step by Step, Boy Meets World, Full House, etc.), and Saturday Night Nickelodeon (AKA SNICK).
 * Poem:**

I am from the warm, comfortable, relaxing smell of a hot turkey in the oven on a cool, cloudy Thanksgiving Day. I am from the out-of-control pumpkin patch in the small backyard of our little twin, vines twisting and clinging to anything and everything in their aggressive, unrelenting path, from the corn we tried to grow years later in the bigger yard of our “new” house, but whose short, thin stalks got demolished by grazing deer.

I am from taking turns opening Christmas presents one at a time and from sarcasm and banter, from Grandma Maze, the fastest female runner in the neighborhood 4th of July dashes, and Grandma Joan, a 3-time cancer survivor, and my mom, my inspiration.

I am from the long trips to Pittsburgh that don’t quite seem as long now that I am older and the speed limit has been increased, and the over-thinking and worrying about what we look back on and did not even need to worry about.

From long car rides to surrounding counties and other states for only one soccer game and from the hours upon hours my dad spent with me at a local court improving my basketball shot, teaching me how to turn with a soccer ball, and throwing me “high passes” with his lacrosse stick so I could improve my technique; I can remember the fulfilling sense of accomplishment when I performed these actions well in completion.

I am from a church bulletin on the end table every Sunday, a “God Bless” at the end of every email, and invisible prayers whose strong arms carry me through my darkest days.

I'm from Drexil Hill… and Italy and Germany and Poland and France and Czechoslovakia, from perogies and Elio’s square pizza and New Year’s pretzel and ice cream cake for every birthday.

From the various times my mom says something she didn’t mean to or something she mis-stated, and the many, many times we don’t let her forget it, the “Santa Claus” who appears at every Christmas Eve party (through the front door, of course), and the football catches and Velcro-hand-held-pods-with-a-tennis-ball catches we had every summer on the sandy beaches of Cape May.

I am from faith and support, from encouragement and laughter, from strength and determination, and from unrelenting, unconditional love, both for our family and for God. I am from trying your best, but knowing you have a soft, supportive place to fall and a foundation that is strong enough to hold many, many dreams.

Kristen--Your line about how long trips don't seem as long now that you are older really resonated with me. Over the weekend I went to my hometown to join others in celebrating my baby brother and his wife's 30th wedding anniversary. We had to sell our grandparents house about a year ago after my uncle died, and the family who bought it fixed it up so nicely! My cousins and I were talking about it and my cousin said, "I used to think that house was so big! Now as an adult, when we cleaned it out, it seemed so much smaller to me." Isn't it interesting how those perceptions change over time? Jan T-W
 * Comments:**

Kristen - Great family descriptions, I can tell you were close. I realized how I forgot to mention my own mother's cancer survival - ack! how could I have missed that?! And gardens...absolutely, the joy of watching the seeds turn into overgrown patches. Thank you for your descriptions - it brought back important details for me. - Sara

Kristen - Reading your poem brought back so many of my own childhood memories. The similarities are abundant. Your "little twin" must be just what my mom referred to as our "tuna can." That was //our// little twin. TGIF! I forgot all about that. All of us laying around in the living room watching Steve Urkel try to romance Laura Winslow! So much of my childhood was spent going from game to game, match to match - soccer, field hockey, football, wrestling, baseball. My parent's made each game feel important and supported us at every stop. Elio's pizza! My parents still keep that in their freezer. The velcro hand held mit and ball on the beach! We always played! Thanks for being so descriptive in your poem. Memories you shared made me remember things that were long forgotten! - Laura G.

Kristen--I am guessing we are around the same age because I was also a huge fan of TGIF!! I was trying to explain to my students what shows were included in TGIF but none of them had ever heard of Full House, Family Matters, etc. I feel so old sometimes when I'm with 13 year-olds!! I also had a fake plastic food and a Fisher Price play kitchen. I spent hours making dinner for my dolls. I haven't thought about those things in ages--thanks for reminding me with your poem. --Kristina A.

Kristen- I can relate to everything you said in the first line. Playing with fake food was my favorite and Play-Doh. I try to buy it for my ltitle cousins so I can play with it with them but I think it's too boring for them now. Kids these days need to be constantly going. They can't sit down and play with something for that long. I loved all those shows and still enjoy watching them if they come on now. -Kayla P.


 * Name:** Hilary Quagliana


 * Poem:**

I am from my old family, my new family, and blending the two together.
Hilary - I was really able to get a great vision of WHERE you are from. The sandy shores, wintry trails, windy shores, slushy streets. It seems you associate a lot of who you are with the places you have been. And also from the food you ate! We are similar in that way. I have a connection with galumpki (we call them halupkis) and I grew up in an ice cream parlor and know all about all you can eat soft-serve! Great poem. ~Laura G.
 * Comments:**


 * Name:** Jan Thompson-Wilda

I am from small town, quiet streets, crickets humming at night, corn fields and friendly neighbors and safe streets.
 * Poem:**

I am from my Grandma’s wringer washer and clothes on the line, running under as they hung heavy in the summer and whipped and cracked in the spring and fall breezes, and I am from smelling the sun dried into my sheets.

I am from workless Sundays, For God so loved the world, eating at my grandparents, playing with my cousins, honoring the earth, being of good “farmer stock,” shucking corn on Grandma’s back porch, Grandpa sleeping in his chair, delicate white lace doilies on couches and basements for air conditioners.

I am from the backyard pool, kids splashing and diving for pennies and floating-- Oh, cool water on a hot summer day. I’m from the smell of freshly mown grass, and burning fall leaves, Comet cleaned sinks and lemon Pledge dusted wood. I’m from the old Weeping Willow, a sanctuary inside for dreaming and watching.

I am from big sisters, bossy and quiet, and little brother, the long awaited son. I’m from hand-me-downs and swimming lessons and clarinet squeaking and homework doing. I’m from girlfriends and sleepovers and lip synching and pizza making and cold Cokes.

I’m from Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys, any book, any magazine, anything to read. I’m from black and white TV, crushes on actors, fan magazines and the Beatles, please and thank you, excuse me and don’t get too big for your britches.

I am from Jackie and LeeJay, a love for the ages, she his flight and he her ground. I’m from strong women and gentle men, from “In or out, make up your mind,” and pin curls and shorty pajamas, black cows and helping out. I am from happy family and crushing loss.

I am from grief, the kind that marks your soul for all time, sucks the breath from you.

I am from resilience--hard won-- persistence, optimism faith.

Jan, I love how you incorporate smells into your memories - it's the best way to revisit some of the forgotten places in our past! Your words paint very clear pictures. Shucking corn on the back porch? Oh yes - 'keep the silks outside!' It reminds me how important it is to continue past practices for our present generation! Thank you. - Sara
 * Comments:**

Jan, the descriptions and imagery in your poem really brought me to another place, and what a peaceful place that is! I loved how you included the clothes hung up on the line and how the sun was dried into your sheets! Your childhood seemed so wholesome and...fun! It really reminded me to enjoy the simple things in life! I also appreciate how you said that you are from "strong women and gentle men"; I know exactly what you mean! Your poem really brought me to another place and time, and you are an awesome writer! Thanks so much for sharing :-). ~Kristen M.

Jan-- Your poem touched me and transported me to a time when family was central, hard work was valued, and faith was important. The image of your grandpa asleep in his chair and the white doilies-- this is precious. I can still see my grandpa in his chair on Sundays after church. He was a farmer in Worthington, MN and Sunday after church and lunch he had a bit of time to nap before going back outside to do chores and go to church for the Sunday evening service. Although in later years my grandparents had an air conditioner, I do remember spending time in their basement to stay cool. My grandma had shelves down there lined with jars of colorful, canned fruits and vegetables. I wish I had learned how to can before she passed away. Her basement was damp and humid and had this musty smell that sometimes I catch a whiff of if I'm in a used bookstore or antique shop. I also love the smells you included in your poems--freshly mown lawn and burning leaves. These are smells of the seasons and all the emotions tied to those seasons. The ending of your poem is beautiful...I am glad you are resilient, persistent, and have both faith and optimism. --Kristina A.

Jan Your poem brought back so many memories for me. Those were the days, much more simpler than it appears today in busy lives. Wringer washers and clothes hanging outside to dry was a every Saturday chore which took all day long when washing for 9 people. So many memories came flooding back writing my poem, in addition to reading the poems of our learning community members. Kristina commented about the lines of fruit and vegetable jars. Our basement was filled to the top with all types of canned food. One never went hungry. Ajax cleaned sinks, Pledge lemon polish oil, Joy dish soap, Hilex bleach, Oxdgen (wrong spelling) laundry soap, Downey liquid fabric softner, Oak Grove milk, etc. are all types of products that were used while growing up. My mother was a stickler, she had to use the same type of products for certain things. The black and white TV--no such thing as cable, reading every book I could get my hands on (even ones I wasn't), Sunday night Wild Kingdom-Walt Disney World (loved Tinker Bell) and Bonanza. Thank you for sharing a personal peek into your life. Faye J.

I am from Frederick my fishing pole, from freshly husked corn on the cob and made from the canister, cold iced tea.
 * Name:** Laura Grida
 * Poem:**

I am from the tuna can, tiny and cramped but full of the love of sister and brothers who were my friends and allies.

I am from the creek hidden in the cinders, the farm every September navigating the corn stalks.

I am from the Easter egg hunt and the extra Avon supplies on Christmas, from Ralph and John and Mary and Anne.

I am from the raise your voice so you can get a word in edge wise and the give you a hard time so you know I love you.

From don’t make that face or it will stay like that and you can’t go out until your homework is done.

I am from plaid jumpers, peter pan collars, loafers and wool leggings. From giving you the gift of knowing what I believe, but not judging you for what you believe.

I'm from Italy, Portugal, Poland and Germany. From Palmerton, Richlandtown, Hellertown. From the valley and from the hill. From halupkis and kielbasa. From the farm and the ice cream stand.

From the bad luck Pop had while jogging, he lost all his hair on top with just one gust of wind!, the nine minute naps of our youngest pride and joy, the raise it up over your head and be proud of what you’ve achieved.

I am from my mother’s bedside, my Gram’s living room walls, my Grammy’s china cabinet. From the dinner table, from the ball field, from the teenage mistakes and from forgiveness.

I am from these memories, these people, these places. All things connected by one stable center. Laura, I really liked the stanza about the "tuna can, cramped but full of love." The imagery is wonderful, and I connected to it as well, growing up in a small home where we were all bumping into each other, but really not being able to imagine it any other way. Some of your references to the country and a farm hit home too, as I grew up in rural Michigan. Not many people in suburban Chicago (where I live now) can identify with some of the memories of my country childhood! Thanks for sharing. Hilary Q.
 * Comments:**

Laura, I am guessing you also went to Catholic school? Before I read your poem I wrote mine, and included a line about my plaid jumper. As I was reading your poem, I could feel those wool leggings on my legs again. No matter how thick they were, they never kept me quite warm enough out at recess! When I picture myself as a little girl, I picture my jumper( I was always losing the belt on it and had to wear a sweater to hide it) and my soft peter pan blouse. I sometimes miss my school uniform, or maybe just miss not having to pick out my outfits in the morning! thank you for bringing up those memories for me :) -Genevieve F.

Laura, Do you currently live in Palmerton? I live in Nesquehoning so I'm not far from Palmerton. Our family also enjoys halupki and kielbasa. -Kayla P.


 * Name:** Kristina Anderson

I Am From So Many and So Much
 * Poem:**

I am from the heart shaped leaves of the towering cotton trees A backyard filled with fluffy, floating “snow” in June I am from 6 months of winter; from perfect powdery precipitation in November; dirty sandy remains come April I am from the Land of 10,000 Lakes; our culture “nice” I am from a heritage of yellow and blue where the “sons” of Ander and John and Soren dance around the Maypole during Midsommer, where we eat pickled herring so vinegary my eyes water and my tongue curls I am from every December 13th wearing a long, white dress and a crown of lights upon my head; Santa Lucia bringing golden saffron buns to her moder and fader in bed

I am from “Escape to Wisconsin” every summer From wriggling, gooey worms on the end of a tangled fishing line (“Keep your pole tip up!”) to slippery little sunnies, iridescent in the shining light I am from warm, soft breezes; placid, mirror lakes; the cry of the lonely loon unsettling to my own lonely soul I am from splashing in the sandy shallows with my brother and all the boy cousins; the only one who had to wear a shirt on hot days, wishing to be one of them I am from walking through the woods, a carpet of dead pine needles beneath my bare feet, pretending to be Davy Crocket or Sacajawea

I am from the stress of school days; working for the straight A’s, the knot of anxiety eating its way through my stomach as I ate my nails to the nub I am from pleasing with perfection only to discover in dismay that “nobody is perfect” I am from finish your work first and then you can play (the work is never finished) I am from saying the right thing to make others believe I am from silent stoicism because anger is a bad word and sadness is not becoming I am from “fake it till you make it”

I am from homemade bread baking on Saturdays (the smell of happiness); a mother who taught school all week and maintained a spotless home (take your shoes off at the door), cooking and sewing and baking too (cake from a box is scandalous) I am from a father who cared too much for others as a pastor and listener, chaplain and pray-er; from a man who sometimes forgot to listen to his wife and children

I am from the dream of someday going far away, from the reality of living that dream in an impoverished nation with beautiful brown, smiling faces I am from my Guatemalan family—Juan and Clara, Estuardo, Rosario, and Sara I am from tamales on Sundays, greasy corn mash with hidden chunks of chicken throughout, wrapped in banana leaves and boiled I am from living near poverty so dire and people so destitute that sometimes tears seemed to be the only way I am from the epiphany that possessions don’t bring joy, smiles are free and doing unto others what I hope others will one day do for me is key to the elusive meaning of life

Kristina, So much of your poem resonated with me. I especially liked the line about working for straight A's and working on pleasing and perfection only to discover that "nobody is perfect." How true! Been there, done that. I also loved your line about the epiphany of understanding that possessions don't bring joy. Your poem is so beautiful, wonderful images that brought pictures to my mind of everything you said. Thanks so much for such an evocative work. Jan T-W
 * Comments:**

Kristina, What a beuatiful poem. I actually almost teared up when I read your words" anger is a bad word and sadness is not becoming." I feel like we must have been raised similarly, in that we were to be happy with what we had, and that was that. We had a roof over our heads and food on the table, what could we possibly be upset about? I hope that you now know its okay to be angry and sad sometimes. It has taken me a long time to get to that realization, and now that I allow myself to have those feelings, I feel like they don't last quite as long. Thank you for letting me get that off my chest :) -Genevieve F.


 * Name:** Faye Johnson

I Am From: I am from idle land, early spring crocuses, and a pond as big as a small lake. I am from washing clothes on Saturday, hanging clothes on lines outside to dry, and the first clean smell of the sun when snuggling into bed for sleep. I am from homemade sauerkraut, fresh strawberry jam on piping hot bread out of the oven, canned chicken with cream gravy and rhubarb desserts. I am from Sunday Mass, wearing kerchiefs in honor of our lord, nuns in black habits and weekly confessions. I am from waxed floors, fresh smell of pine, silver tinsel, hidden presents and midnight mass. I am from wishing I had grandparents to adopting my own around the neighborhood, from a history that was seldom talked about to uncovering the secrets in the forbidden trunk. I am from a community where everyone knew each other, where your parents knew what you did before you could tell them. I am from do not disappoint your parents, and always respect your teachers. I am from small town parades, county fairs, church suppers, juicy watermelon slices and bingo. I am from waste not as it costs money, the sound of the sewing machine as clothes were being made for the new school year, and one pair of school shoes.
 * Poem:**

Faye, Your line about being from a community where everyone knew you felt like you were telling my story! Growing up that way is such a gift in so many ways. I also know that "one pair of shoes" thing. I remember shopping for that one pair of shoes right before school started every year at Sears. And, of course, respecting teachers was also an expectation in our family and town back then. Teachers were always right, no matter what. (That's certainly not always good either is it?) Thanks for putting together these images that transported me back to a simpler time. Jan T-W
 * Comments:**


 * Name:** Genevieve Felty

I am from two high school sweethearts who didn’t get together until 25 and have been together ever since; the most honest man I have ever met, and the strongest woman on the planet. I am from a merchant marine and a lineman who took “until death do us part” seriously. I am from the storybook suburbs, a house stuffed to the brim with kids and laughter, four kids who couldn’t be more alike and different at the exact same time, and who talk and laugh louder than most.  I am from “I love you” at the end of every phone call. I am from a pink bedroom with bunk beds, where sisters spent all night laughing and whispering secrets, “who took my socks” and “Hey, that’s my sweater!” I know that the first one up is the best dressed. I am from delicate lace Christening gowns and First Communion veils, plaid school uniforms and gold crosses around my neck. I am from praying before meals and basketball games, crossing myself in public, and saying a Hail Mary whenever I hear sirens. I am from summer down the shore, packing up the car and speeding down the Expressway. Sand in my hair and sunburns and sunscreen that never seemed to be strong enough. I am from an open car window, after I made myself car sick trying to read more Baby-Sitters club. I am from the soccer field, the basketball court, and the pool. I am from hot summer days filled with Gatorade and secondary jerseys. I know the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat..at least until it was ice cream time. I am from the 700 level of the Vet, cheering on My Eagles and Phils. I am from fans that boo Santa (he was drunk!) and love their Birds. I am from car rides falling asleep to Harry Kalas’ “Struck Him Out!” I am from the rocking chair of worry, even though I know it won’t get me anywhere. I’m from “I won’t yell if you tell the truth”,“Everybody makes mistakes”, and “Do you want a free trip to the moon?” I know the magic words, and what Big Bird says. I am from a party in a barn, where I found my best friend. I am from love that just keeps multiplying.
 * Poem:**

If it ain't broke, don't fix it. I stay out of the interactions that are going well. This group is amazing! I also am a firm believer in not judging or comparing creative efforts. Each one is unique and wonderful. I will offer some personal comments in Gradebook. Just please please know: I am awestruck, totally moved, teary, amazed. I feel like I am reading the work of professional poets, and - even better - I believe it's non-fiction! These are your real stories. I hope you share them with some of the "main characters" you have brought to life, if they are around and available. Thank you for digging deeply and for sharing what you unearthed with all of us! I hope some of you can adapt this activity in some way with your students.
 * Comments: To Everyone from Judy:**


 * Name:** Kayla (Pecha) Field


 * Poem:**

I am from my parents’ walls, Grammy’s shelf, and Baba’s coffee table.

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