I’ve just finished my first week back at school for the year. It’s always a bit of a shock to the system to get back into teaching mode again but it went well — lots of fresh faces, enthusiasm and an atmosphere of positivity. One of my goals this year is to do more poetry in my English classes, and in pursuit of this goal I tried a poetry exercise that came from Micah Bournes, a Californian poet and musician who visited our school a few years ago. I was really pleased with how well it worked and thought I’d share the results.

The exercise is called ‘Where I’m From‘, and here’s the one my Year 12 class wrote together. I think it’s rather lovely.

Where I’m From

I am from eyelash extensions and Pantene.
I’m from the white house with concrete for lawns.
I’m from the oak tree and the sunflower,
From Sunday family breakfasts, mouths full of swear words, from Bayly and Kathleen.
I am from fighting and arguments in the middle of the street,
From “don’t do drugs” and “do the mahi, get the treats.”
From playing games and watching the stock cars,
From Opononi, from hangis and boil-up,
From nearly killing Nana when pulling wheelies on my motorcycle.
I’m from a treasured box of photos that makes me feel both happy and sad. 

Here’s a picture of the instructions, or poetic recipe, if you like, that we used.

Instructions for Where I'm From poem.

Here’s the one my Year 10 class wrote together. You can see the maturity level has dropped a little (maybe more than a little), but I still like it.

Where I’m From

I am from pencils and Supreme.
I’m from the pink house with the orange trim.
I’m from maple trees and cauliflower,
From dancing round the Christmas tree,
From the worst car on the street, from Uncle Bob and Uncle Jared.
I am from unflushed toilets and rescuing random animals.
From “Santa’s real” and “your dad will be back in five minutes.”
I’m from colander helmets and touching feet,
From New England, eggplant and broccoli rice.
I’m from an older brother who would sit on my chest, hold my hands down and tickle me until I cried.
I’m from a cabinet in the hallway, stuffed with old shit we found underground.

Want to try it yourself? Leave a comment; I’d love to know how it went.


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