The “Where I’m From” poems somehow seem to unlock my students’ minds. There must be something particularly stimulating about searching deep inside one’s soul for the language to express one’s identity. As previously discussed, I had my summer school students write “Where I’m From” poems. ER’s poem was excellent. But, now that I have more students, I’m noticing a broader range of creative output–some honestly hilarious, some definitely depressing, and some phenomenally powerful.
After the jump, a smattering of these poems (please read them all!–especially SS1′s and SS2′s).
Before the poems, however, I wanted to mention that after a week of teaching in the DCPS, I’ve thought about a lot of things: I’ve pondered broader issues on my educational philosophy, analyzed the structure and management of the DCPS system, reacted to some of my students’ situations and thought about how physically taxing the act of teaching really is.
But some of these thoughts aren’t PC. Some shouldn’t be shared with just anyone who stumbles across this from the Internet (although I do appreciate all those strangers who stumble across my site!). From time to time, I will offer some of my inner thoughts. I’ll password protect these posts. If you want to read them, email me, Facebook message me or leave a comment on this page. The first one should come this weekend.
AP (the class clown and paper bowtie-wearer) has quite the infatuation for food:
IL perplexes me when she draws a smiley face next to the phrase “Im living in a ghetto life,” as if she were happy about that fact when, clearly, she isn’t:
KN comes from a broken family:
RL shows me that English is clearly not her first language (and that I seriously need to give her individual attention):
PC uses vivid imagery and exceptional allusions:
JS demonstrates that one can suffer so much and still persevere and generate such wonderful language:
Of all my students, however, SS1 shows me exactly the kind of despairing, hopeless attitude that many students at schools that TFA targets possess. SS1 reveals just how unchangeable she believes her predicament to be and just how neglected she feels. SS1 is the type of student who makes me furious–furious that we as a country have developed (read: degenerated) in such a way that a teenager like SS1 can already say, with such conviction, what she says as a teenager:
Finally, there is SS2. He writes with such brilliance–I really should let him speak for himself: