Edmodo Facilitates Inspiration Across Borders
Today, I received a post from Ms. Nicholson, a teacher in Canada with whom I am connected via Edmodo. I’m sharing it with you because it made my day. Enjoy!
Her comment reads:
Our class was inspired by yours. Here is our work put together:
Where I’m From Identity Portraits : The video
The students in Mrs. Nicholson’s class are going to post their poems below. We welcome your comments and feedback. Let us know if you would like to replicate this project with your students. We could create a global gallery.
Where I’m from
I’m from rosy cheeks,
And numb toes.
From balaclava’s, and wipeouts.
I’m from practice makes perfect,
From sire limbs,
And feeling like a noodle.
I’m from sand in my hair,
From little eyes watching me wherever I go.
From cuts and eyes stinging,
Like there’s no tomorrow.
I’m from walking like an elephant,
And muddy feet,
From dust bunnies,
And Lysol smelling hands.
I’m from having a sand dune
In my shoe.
From sitting on air,
And letting nothing nor no one
Past me.
From cheering so loud you can’t speak,
From face paint,
And rink dogs.
I’m from a good plate of chilchya and smonfatt,
From farmer sausage,
And perogies.
I’m from if you fall down,
You get right back up.
I’m from knowing you’re not alone.
I’m from being committed to something
You love.
From never saying “I can’t”
Where I’m From
I’m from red clay stains
A sweat covered forehead
And the crack of the bat
I’m from glistening snow,
And never ending goose bumps
I’m from the feeling of falling,
Only to be caught again by my own two hands
I’m from pointless conversations
Jabbering on
Just for the sake of saying something
I’m from high expectations
And even higher standards of my own
I’m from hold on and hurry up
Be quiet and say something
I’m from the climbing tree
Gasping for air
And the struggle for any to seem to enter my lungs
I’m from please say grace
An old wooden cross
And lighting the candles
I’m from a big plate of pasta
Saskatoon pie for any reason we can think of to make it
I’m from peeling paint
Rotten wood
And furry little guests we wish would leave
I’m from sticky raspberry juice splattered all over my face
Muddy feet
And wind-blown hair
I’m from complete boredom
And sleepless nights thinking about what the next day has to come
I’m from the good and the bad
The rocky and the smooth
And all the memories that are to come
I like how many simileys you used, like sand dunes in my shoes. CUTE!!!:>
I am from fun times in the summer to thinking how fast those leafs fell this year to the snow coming and going in a blink of a eye to the puddles that get you dirty when you get near them
From takeing a huge jump and bailing my bike and cracking the frame to the last period of a hockey for the gold medal being hitb into the goal post and having to forfit the game
Catching a 33 inch catfish and a thunderstorm well my desmond and Wyatt where camping in the tent from hats to hunting to going homa and playing ps3
I am from those times
Where I Am From
I am from cold snow and hot pavement,
Shoveling the driveway and cutting the grass,
I am from loud drums and quiet strings,
From making the first step count,
And the takeoff precise,
I am from a loud house to a quiet house in the blink of an eye,
I’m from plastic on wheels to,
Hoops and tall nets,
Mountain dew, Doritos,
And an Xbox, then I’m set for the night,
Where I’m from
Where your neighbor is your sixth cousin,
Where Tim Horton’s represents red and white,
Where grandma’s has the best food around.
Where laundry day means
You do lunges because
Your clothes are two sizes smaller.
Where butter makes your bite
The more savory.
Where the thunder of a motor,
The smell of gasoline,
Means fun with dad.
where you leave dirt to give flavor,
where the cold fresh snap,
of the garden in your back yard.
Where an hour away is your futer.
Where I from
I’m from the sound of a buzzer,
I from cheering,
I am from a loud ding,
I from skates scratching the ice
I’m from the sound of sticks dropping
I am from the sound of a black rubber thing hitting the ice,
I’m from the smell of popcorn,
I’m from the sound of yelling,
I’m from working
I’m from passing,
From hearing a thing hit the back of a net,
I’m from shooting.
I am from the sound of the buzzer
From the 1st to the one to end the game
The sound of the skates gliding across the ice
And the yelling of the fans and the players yelling for the puck
And the coldness on the bench and the warmness on the ice
And players asking the coach where is the other team’s week spot is
Now a lot more presser on me
And you have to keep your head up in the corners
Coach’s yelling at you to keep on practicing at home on the slap shot
Now my job is done the game is a lot more intense from the bench watching your kid play
I’m from a small town that’s trees smell like the forest.
I’m from a family of 8.
I’m from the playful laughter my little nephews.
I’m from a big yard and a small yard with a lot of trees.
I’m from the small apple tree on my yard.
I’m from the old creaking sound coming from the entrance.
I’m from the joy I’ve had.
I’m from the stress from my brothers.
I’m from the clicking sound coming from my bike.
I’m from the forgiveness I’ve had all these years.
I’m from the lead coming from my pencil.
The carrots that were picked, lasted
For a minute which the horses enjoyed.
Silent peaceful, all who talked was the soft cool breeze.
On that bumpy road with loud class mates school felt a week
Away.
Read the book,
Learn the lines,
Get to know my father even more.
Moving on 8 hours away from old life,
But still have those old memories.
New house, new school, new country new everything.
I started out with a pencil and paper
And then created something new.
I am from burning marshmallows
Making me laugh
The coziness of a fire
I am from
Reading on rainy days
On the couch, zoning out the world around me
I am from
Jumping in the leaves
Wrecking what you just made
Laughing as you fall in
I am from
Camping
Meeting new people from all across the USA and Canada
Exploring
The farm
Big machines
Loud noses all around
Hauling bails
Driving combines
Moving tractors
Hunching up the bailer
Chores
Feeding the cows
Giving the horses water to drink
Great times
Playing with the dogs and cats
Also with my sisters
I’m from expression
believing and dreaming
highs and lows
I’m from good ideas
inventions and writing
teaching and exceeding
and feeling as though I just won a million bucks
I’m from standing on main stage
having jitters go through my body
so that my knees almost buckle
I come from deep down inside the heart…
Family
I’m from the Horndean dam
Witch flows fresh cold water
From the mistakes and risks
I’m from cold hard swords
Struggling with each swing
I’m from the army of God
Battling strong with my faith
I’m from sore, sweaty feet in tiny pink shoes
From restlessness and car sickness
From Dairy Queen and moms sunglasses
I am from crisp mountain air
And legends of Ogopogo
From water front drives
To snow peaked mountains
From being shy to loving that
I am related to these crazy people
I am from hiding behind trees
In the middle of the night
From popcorn nose cannons and
Saying “Just don’t tell the parents!”
I went from cradling them in my arms
To getting my butt kicked
At Lego Star Wars
I’m from “Broadway shows” in the kitchen
And dancing around the table
From banana medicine and lifesaver popsicles
I am from opinions and debates
From no one listening
To being able to tell them “I told you so!”
I am from photo albums and home videos
From living in the moment to dreaming of tomorrow
I am from a small town at the end of the road,
I am from the hockey rink where there are highs and lows,
I am from the goalie the section in a hockey store,
I am from the buttons take could shoot you high to the buttons that could make you
crash in a blink of an eye,
I am from the “conk” of a golf hitting the water after a drop of the cliff,
I am from having gold fever in the Klondike.
I am from the sweeping current pushing you over while reeling in the big fish,
I am from the chills of the water,
I am from getting a furry welcome from a champ.
I am from cuts concussions,
Bruises broken bones,
Skates sticks
I am from,
The ball dropping in the perfectly rounded hole,
From hole out to chip INS,
I am from
The puck going in the freshly painted cherry colored net,
From bar downs to post outs,
I am from ribs loaded with BBQ sauce fresh of the traeger,
From back yard BBQs to late night camp fires,
I am from a place I call home
I am from rocks
Sliding down the ice
Hard is yelled every second
And it lands it in the button
I am from farming
Where grain trucks come rolling in
Up goes the truck box with oats
Can’t see it’s so dusty
And itchy
I am from golf
Where I hit it and
You hear a splash
Cause I am not very good
A swing and a splash
I am from monkey costumes
Overheated but fun
Got a little bit of a/c that didn’t really help
Lots of hugs from adults to kids
I am from tennis
Where the ball is so bright
And seems to go through my racket
I take a swing and a miss
Like always
I am from ATV’s
Behind my sister always
Dust flying everywhere
And rocks are flying at me
Thumb gets really cramped at the end
I am from biking
Where some days it’s hard to go
So much creaking
Yet I love the bike
It’s a Norco but Dante drove it and broke it
I am from gaming
Oh no my partner is down
I have to go and revive him
I’m taking some shots
But chuck a grenade and all go flying