Where I’m From
Powerful Poems by Middle and High School Students



 

Wesley Kyle Turner, age 12
Highland Turner Elementary School, Booneville, Kentucky


I’m from the swampy rivers to the broken blacktop on Barwick.

I remember the smell of Wintergreen Grizzly Long cut chewing tobacco, the dirt bikes and 4x4 wheelers. This is where I am from—where Bobby’s pool hall stays open ‘til 1:00 a.m. and the dogs barking from the back of pickup trucks that had bumper stickers that said “I am a country boy” and “Support Coal.” I am from the smell of fresh chopped wood from Wayne‘s wood shop. I remember the swinging bridge that went to Mammaw SallyBell’s house and to a big valley, the sweet smell of J.D.’s blend smelled like pipe tobacco smoke. I am from where the smell and taste of Mammaw SallyBell’s corn bread and chicken and dumplings, the sound of trucks, cars and dirt bikes and four-wheelers  rev their engines. Some people think it is a bad place…but not me.

 

 

Kang Bao Vang, age 13
Franklin Middle School, Green Bay, Wisconsin

I am from a bath from rain,
From the dirt, and carts driving to go get water.
I am from the cart that takes people places.
From the smell of poop everywhere.

I am from the taste of a piece of watermelon
That I always carried with me
To go play with my friends,
From a place where there are monks’ statues,
Where people go to find bamboo to sell.
I am from the ghost stories from my grandma.

I am from the fruit I always ate, called frog fruit.
It smells so sweet that whenever you smell it you just want to eat it.
As bumpy as a frog’s back, and looks dark green.
I am from the papaya salad that smells bad
But tastes really good.
 When you try some you won’t stop eating it,
Or you will want more, except it’s a little spicy.
I am from the boiling pumpkin in the pot
On the stove and still needs to be eaten
By me and my family.

I am from the games I play.
Hopscotch, hit the can, the fried chicken game.
It goes, “Whose mom is rich to buy fried chicken
To whom to eat, that person has a lot of gas.”
We play Grandma and Grandpa (playing house).
I am from a game for girls drawing on dirt.
I love this game,
It’s something like a race.

I am from all of these good memories.
It makes me want to go back.

 

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“There’s a radical—and wonderful—new idea here… that all children could and should be inventors of their own theories, critics of other people’s ideas, analyzers of evidence, and makers of their own personal marks on the world.”

– Deborah Meier, educator