I love the beginning of the school year. Not just because of the shiny new pencils and backpacks, but because after a long summer rest it is wonderful to return to the classroom and school building to interact with my peers and students.
I split my time between English language arts classes and math classes. Due to this, I am privileged to experience some of the most gifted teachers ply their expertise. One such instructor teaches high school senior English. I adore being in his classroom because not only do I get the joy of seeing his students inspired and engaged, but the enthusiasm is infectious.
One of his first lessons this school year originated from Kentucky’s 2015-16 Poet Laureate George Ella Lyon. Lyon created the “Where I’m From” poem. http://www.georgeellalyon.com/where.html The link will take you to her website and her poem.
The assignment for the seniors was to create their own “Where I’m From” poems. I couldn’t resist doing the same.
Where I’m From
I am from the “Little Apple”,
A place of purple pride,
Agricultural learning, and people from
Many cultures who have come to learn but
Decide to stay.
I am from a family of faith,
German Lutherans whose
Knowledge of “this is most certainly true”
Stems from many hours of learning
And teaching Luther’s Small Catechism.
I am from Sunday dinners.
First as a small child sitting in the
Kitchen at my grandparent’s farm table,
Drinking milked down sweet coffee in grandma’s
Depression glass coffee cups. Then later,
At my parent’s house once my siblings and I were grown.
I am from soft fluffy parts in my heart.
A bed filled with plush animals as a small child,
Melding into a myriad of cats and kittens living outside in the
Country at my childhood home, evolving into two pets residing in my
Home as an adult.
I am from angel food cake with seven minute frosting,
Choosing a favorite meal for my birthday, always mom’s fried chicken,
Homemade vanilla ice cream
so rich and creamy that a sweet film coated my lips
As I savored every last drop on the spoon.
I am from my dad’s strong hands,
Covered in scrapes and cuts
From the car’s sharp metal that he
Straightened and pounded back to perfection.
I am from homemade dresses for Christmas and Easter,
Every pattern, every design matched perfectly,
Lovingly constructed by my mother
Who stayed up all night to complete the garment
In time to wear for church.
I am from a loving home that began
With my parents and through marriage
And children evolved into my own, and because
Of this...I am from blessed joy.
I encourage you to write your own “Where I’m From” poems. Search your heart and memories and remember where you are from.