I Am From Poem

This past semester, as a part of my exit portfolio from Curriculum & Instruction 658, I was required to compose an original writing sample. One week, we modeled a type of poem called the "I Am From" poem by George Ella Lyon. You can view the original model here, if you like.

Anyway, writing this poem over the course of the semester offered me an opportunity to reflect on all the little things that have contributed to my development as a person, as well as how I got to where I am today. Enjoy!

I Am From...

I am from the little gray house

And then the bigger yellow house on top of the hill.

(The one that’s great for sledding.)

I am from the Old Country- Germany-

Back where everything written with your right hand;

Apparently I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time.

I am from hours and hours of music theory

And seemingly endless piano recitals;

The dusty trophies are sitting in a box somewhere in the basement.

I am from Christmas at Grandma’s house,

With too many people crowded into the kitchen;

All of us passing around bienenstich, sub sandwiches, and disgusting fish-in-a-can.

I am from German camp in Michigan,

And basketball tournaments in LaCrosse,

And endless cheerleading fundraisers in the Grace Christian Academy lobby.

I am from meterologist in kindergarten

To lawyer in 4^th grade,

To doctor in 12^th grade,

To teacher in college;

I think I made the right decision.

I am from the white, 1990s Chrysler Grand Caravan called Vanna White

(The name borrowed from Wheel-of-Fortune),

And the 1997 Silver Mercury Sable with the “customized” back bumper,

(Courtesy of a driver who decided not to stop for the red light);

The only two vehicles that have ever been mine.

I am from ice skating in winter

(And pretending I’m really bad

So that Matthew would hold my hand),

To wanting a hockey stick for my birthday

So that I can play with the boys outside.

I am from Vernon, Wisconsin,

To Lakeland, Florida,

And back again,

All within four months

Because I wanted a change and then realized that I was being stupid.

I am from piles and piles of books in the corner of my room,

Which are only outdone by the number of coffee cups on my nightstand,

Because I’m an addict.

Thanks mom.

I am from outgoing child

To shy and quiet adult;

One who hates parties

And who would rather stay home and watch a movie.

I am from child to adult,

Always my parents' daughter,

From girlfriend to fiancee

And now wife.

I am always from the big yellow house on the top of the hill,

But I am also from the new life I am starting

In the little brick house on Beloit.