Where I'm From

A few weeks ago, I attempted to face my fear of writing poetry after Anna Gratz Cockerille encouraged slicers to create their own rendition of the "The Good Old Days", using Ralph Fletcher's original poem as a mentor text.  After getting my feet wet with that poem, my supervising teacher for my TESOL field experience (and the one who inspired me to start blogging with the Slice of Life community) introduced me to another great mentor text for poetry: "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon.

In light of it being National Poetry Month and the  fact that I just spent the last 5 days with my wonderful family in my childhood home, today seems like the perfect day to compose my own "Where I'm From" poem. To create my work, I used both the original poem and my supervising teacher's poem as mentor texts.

To be honest, I have been working on this poem sporadically for a couple of weeks and am just now putting the "final" touches on it (though I'm not sure I will ever be completely finished revising it). As I composed it, I found myself wondering if the most personal poems are the hardest to publish. I struggled to know which descriptions of "Where I'm From" to include and it pained me to leave some of them behind. Even today, my fingers hesitate as they hover over the "Publish" button on my screen, listening to the doubts in my mind of whether or not my poem is "ready."

Like many of my previous posts, creating this one has, I believe, prepared me in a small way for my future life as an ESL teacher. I have been reminded of how personal our writing can be and of the hesitancy writers may face as they prepare to share their work with others. Today, I am able to try my hand at poetry and attempt to describe "Where I'm From" with the Slice of Life community because there is a pre-exiting relationship there characterized by trust and a lack of judgement. I know that what I write does not have to be the best...it just needs to be my best right now. As I reflect on this, I am inspired to take active measures to create this same sense of community in my future classroom in order to help my students blossom into confident writers. I know that it won't come easily, but it is certainly a goal worth pursuing! Perhaps in the future, I will be able to tell them "Where I'm From" and listen to them share their own stories with me.

~

Where I’m From 

(modeled after George Ella Lyon's original)

I am from bicycles,

from hiking boots and family-sized camping tents.

I am from the motor boat on “Grandpa’s Lake.”

(Wrinkled and wet, my fingers

wore the effects of swimming all day long.)

I am from mounds of white snow

piled high 

outside a grey brick house,

the perfect building blocks for snow day forts.

I am from tea parties and Happy Hunters,

carousels and Spiedies,

       from Aud and Zig.

I’m from the cyclists

       and the mini-golfers,

from Why worry when you can pray?

I’m from Say 3 nice things about your sister!

       with ridiculous responses

       that ended our fights in giggles.

I’m from Buttermilk Falls and Jones’ Humdinger,

beautiful gorges and ice cream cones with jimmies.

From Beanie Babies and Precious Moments,

       given by my Aunt Mary

whose memory lives strong in my heart.

Around the dinner table

my family shares our memories

with stories and laughter.

They abide in my heart,

bringing me back

to where I’m from

whenever it seems far away.

A Letter from Your Substitute Teacher

Dear Mr. B,

We've never met before. In fact, we probably will never meet in person, as the worlds of Industrial Technology and ESL don't often seem to collide. Still, after spending a day in your shoes I feel like I know so much about you and what kind of teacher you are.

"How?" you ask?

Well, I saw hints of your personality as I sat down in your chair and admired the tidiness of your classroom and the careful way you had assembled your detailed substitute teacher binder.

I sensed your concern for your students and your desire for them to succeed as I read your note encouraging me to read all of the IEPs for your students so that I could know how best to help them in your absence.

As my eyes wandered around the room and read the posters challenging your freshmen to earn college credit, to get involved in after-school activities, and to THINK before they speak (words that are True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, and Kind), I learned that you are a teacher who wants students to pursue excellence, and who believes that your job as an educator is not limited to the confines of the classroom.

I saw that you are loved, valued, and appreciated by your students, as their faces fell in disappointment when they peeked into your room and discovered that you were missing.

I deduced that you are self-sacrificing, as I realized you do not feel entitled to isolated planning periods or even a quiet lunch, but instead view those parts of your schedule as opportunities to open your classroom door to kids who seek a quiet place to work or just want to escape a crowded cafeteria.

I ascertained that you are trustworthy and considerate, as athlete upon athlete arrived at your door, toting heavy sports bags, explaining that you always allow them to store their belongings in your room.

Finally, I saw that you have high expectations for your students and maintain a productive classroom, as your students worked diligently all day long, knowing exactly what to do and making good use of their time--even in your absence.

So, you see Mr. B, we have never met, but today I feel honored to know you. I respect you, and quite honestly, I want to be like you.

Your Substitute Teacher,

Laura M.

Watching My Textbooks Come to Life

Nestled in the office of my apartment is a library of books on language pedagogy. Throughout their pages, I have been challenged, inspired, and intimidated by the seemingly endless list of research-based recommendations for my teaching they provide.

I have studied countless pages about the importance of authentic assessment, creating positive home/school connections, valuing students' home languages and cultures, allowing ELLs to share their "funds of knowledge," maintaining high expectations, and tapping into their multiple intelligences.

I have learned a lot from the pages in these books, but yesterday, something amazing happened. Yesterday, I saw my textbooks and their recommended strategies spring to life before my eyes.

I have recently been observing a currently-practicing ELL teacher at a local high school as part of the final class I must take before getting my TESOL endorsement. This teacher's classroom has been a flurry of activities for the last few weeks, as her ELLs have been working hard to create poster presentations about their home countries. The mission was for them to create these presentations in order to share information about their cultural backgrounds alongside native English-speaking peers at a school-wide celebration of cultures.

I attended this celebration yesterday and as I walked into the school cafeteria, I began to see the pages of my textbooks spring to life:

I saw ELLs engaged in an authentic assessment, boldly presenting information about their experiences right alongside their native English-speaking classmates.
I saw pride in their eyes as they shared their expertise.
I saw ELLs of all proficiency levels eager to talk about their cultural backgrounds with others.
I saw them taking risks with their language use.
I saw parents who stood off to the side, proudly watching their children. 
I saw other parents who joined in the excitement and provided snacks, clothing, photos, and personal stories for their child's presentation.
I saw U.S.-born students delighted to learn from their classmates who were born abroad.
I saw the dissipation of labels.
I saw a room full of people excited about cultural diversity. 

I saw all of the things my textbooks have told me to do...put into action.

The Phone Call That Made Me Reflect on My Inspirational 5th-Grade Teacher

My phone rang at 7:22 this morning. Curious, I looked at the caller ID to see that it was my sister calling. "H. is calling me at 7:22 in the morning....something must be wrong..." I immediately thought. Before I could let my brain race through the list of potentially horrible events that must have happened in order for her to be calling earlier than possibly ever before, I picked up the phone anxiously.

"Hey..." I answered, tentatively, waiting for the bomb to drop.
"Hey!" 

The enthusiasm in her voice was far too chipper for something to be wrong. Could it be that she just wanted to chat at the beginning of our days, rather than on our way home from work like we often do? Maybe the pregnancy is messing with her body's clock. 

"I was just listening to the radio in the car and heard that there is this new app you can get on an iphone that transfers smells!" she exclaimed.

My tension released. A few days ago, I had asked her to describe a smell to me of a substance I had never smelled before. Have you ever tried to do that? It's hard! Anyway, in light of our recent conversation, this radiomercial was just too intriguing to not call this morning.

Arriving at her destination, she had to hang up almost immediately, but although our conversation was short-lived, my thoughts about it were not. 

Apparently, this "Scentee" accessory that can be plugged into a smartphone to emit smells is not as new as we had thought. (We're not incredibly tech-savvy in my family.) It is pretty incredible, though.

I started thinking about the person who developed this nifty little tool. What kind of reaction did he get when first shared his idea with his friends or teachers? 

I can almost picture it:
"I'm thinking of developing a device that will let you send smells to your friends through a smartphone!" 
Cue the laughter.

I bet it sounded absurd to the first people who heard the inventor's idea. But along the way, someone believed in him. Someone had to help him make his dream become a reality.

I was brought back to my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. C. I can remember clear as day when she asked us to create a plan for any invention we would like to make in the future. "Be creative. Dream big!" she told us. After giving us time to design our inventions, she then conferenced with each of us about what we had created.

My dream invention was a car that could drive itself. I will never forget that response I got from Mrs. C in our conference.

She didn't laugh or say, "Now, wouldn't that be great?" No, she encouraged me to do it! 

My little 5th-grade self was shocked. I'll admit, I thought she was a little crazy. "Me, build a car that can drive itself? Riiiiggght." But Mrs. C persisted. She encouraged my dream, explaining that if I wanted to build this invention, I could do it! 

She spoke with certainty. She spoke with belief. She spoke with inspiration.  

I may have left my self-driving car dream back in that 5th-grade classroom (Google found it and made it a reality, though!). However, I will never forget the confidence that Mrs. C showed in me that afternoon. I walked out of that classroom a little taller that day. Someone truly believed in me and was confident that I could do great things.

Thank you, Mrs. C., wherever you are. I no longer dream of making cars that can drive themselves, but I do dream of inspiring students the way you inspired me.