We’ve finally finished our “Where I’m From” poems modelled after the famous poem by George Ella Lyon! Most of the poems are on students’ blogs!
Students read and analyzed the original poem several weeks ago. A line by line approach was necessary because the poem is like a beautiful puzzle; each line reveals a memory, a part of the author’s life, something that has made her who she is today.
Here’s the original poem:
Where I’m From
by George Ella Lyon
I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening,
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush
the Dutch elm
whose long-gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.
I’m from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I’m from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from Perk up! and Pipe down!
I’m from He restoreth my soul
with a cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.
I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger,
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments–
snapped before I budded —
leaf-fall from the family tree.
Our analysis revealed that Lyon talks about many aspects of her life, so we recorded the categories in our Writing Notebooks.
- chores
- childhood pastimes
- important people – grandparents, parents, friends
- hobbies
- special places
- favourite foods, foods shared with others
- the voices of others – things that were repeatedly expressed to the author
- losses, important moments in our own lives or those of the people close to us
After making our lists, we mined our own histories for each category and tried our best to present our ideas in colourful language, with some mystery. We didn’t want to just say: I am from hockey. or I am from playing video games. We wanted to use all of the senses to describe ourselves, and by thinking deeply about the experience of playing hockey or video games, we came up with gorgeous lines of poetry!
The assessment rubric:
[embeddoc url=”https://rdeighton.edublogs.org/files/2017/11/Rubric-for-Where-Im-From-Poem-qv8dym-1meuu80.docx” download=”all” viewer=”microsoft” ]
Parents, students, and visitors, please take a moment to read some of the poems on 7th grade students’ blogs and leave a comment. They are truly beautiful!
Here’s mine! And yes, I got a bit carried away. Always the wordy one, me!
Where I’m From
I am from the red kitchen table with matching chairs,
from quiet talks and rowdy board games.
From the legend of the Barclay gang,
and playing on the truck in the driveway.
I’m from lunch with the Flintstones,
From Sunday BBQs with the whole gang,
sleeping in the sun
and running in the streets.
I’m from the smell of dad’s pipe
and mom’s apple cake.
I am from Laura’s voice, soft comfort and good advice,
from three of us on New Year’s Eve waiting for number four.
I’m from the furniture that Dad made,
hands worn from the day
spirit never dampened.
I’m from singing the Chattanooga Choo-choo with Sarah
and long walks downtown with Karen.
From Saturday trips to the library,
Twelve books for 14 days
And from waiting in Eva’s living room
to tap the ivory
Fletcher-Kincaid and the scales that made me stronger.
I’m from the bullet in my father’s chin
the war stories he told,
sometimes with vim, sometimes with a tear in his eye.
I am from the Honda,
bugs on my visor
knees buckling in the wind.
From exotic voyages to far off places, alone
and with friends.
I’m from paint swirls and slide-rules
from chalk dust and apples.
I’m from cheering from the bleachers
at that save he made
and the tournament they won,
and cheering in the arena
at the graceful dance of two tiny champions.
I am from him,
lame jokes,
crazy made-up lyrics
and the life we made together
From shoe-shopping and Mario Cart,
from band aids and bruises
from Kiss it Better and I’m Not Tired
I’m from the zesty grandmother who stayed wonderfully late
and the sister who left tragically early
heart torn from my bosom
may she rest peacefully now and forever.
