I Am...

Today we worked on expanding your I Am Poems. Mr. Hannah and I showed you our own examples and I've copy and pasted them here for all of you to see. Here's Mr. Hannah's example:

I am from from Papa, Mr. Johnson, and George Matthew.  These are the names that my mother called me when I was a wee little lad.  First, Papa until I was 8 or 9 and told her not to call me that anymore.  Then, Mr. Johnson because she said I was like an old man.  And always ‘George Matthew’ especially when I did something wrong.  Even to this day, I hear that name and the hairs on my neck (what few I have) stand up.

I am from Nikol.  My big sister who used to take her bus money and buy me comic books instead.  She would have to walk home from school.  And it was quite a walk.  Through my early 20’s, she was that phone call I made at 1 in the morning to vent “that b*%#$ broke my heart.”  When she died two years ago, it was the first time in my life I experienced the death of someone so close to me, and reminder that Father Time is undefeated.

I am from East Orange, NJ.  Home of Queen Latifah and Naughty By Nature (not that y’all know who they is).  Living in the apartment building that people used to call the Jefferson’s.  “Moving on uu-uupp!”  And the door man that used to say “Good Morning, young man” to me everyday as I left for school.  Made me feel like a man.

I remember Venice, Italy.  My first (and only time) out of the country.  Walking down the street drinking…shall we say “Kool Aid”…and handing out roses to the ladies while singing at the top of my lungs “Oh baby you…you…”(sorry, Ms. Chaves.  That was an inappropriate story).  What happens in Venice stays in Venice.

I need laughter.  Sometimes we take ourselves so seriously, and laughing reminds me to take it easy.  The problem is that I sometimes laugh at the wrong moments, like when someone is crying or at funerals.  Or when someone pisses me off.  My mother and my sister and I cannot sit together to this day at funerals (it is strange that this is the only time that my sister, Robin and I get along).  After all, they say it takes more muscles to frown than to smile.

I need time to myself.  As a child, I spent a lot of time by myself.  My brothers and sisters were older, and I didn’t have many friends ‘cause I went to schools far away from my neighborhood.  So I watched a ton of T.V., read comic books from Spider-man to the Incredible Hulk (I’m a Marvel man for those geeks who understand), and played with G.I. Joe men.  Yeah, G.I. Joe men.  With the Kung Fu grip.  Yes, with the Kung Fu grip.

I need Movies are like my little vacation.  When I ain’t had no money, I could always afford to go to the dollar movies and be swept away to a new galaxy or country or…wherever.  The only problem was after the credit rolled, it was back to reality oh there goes gravity, oh there goes Rabbit he’s so…Never mind.

I say all people are beautiful.  Each and everyone of us has something worth praising.  Their hair.  Eyes.  Voice.  Intellect.  Sense of humor.  Something.  If I stop believing this, I can never teach because it is this belief that helps me to work with the teachers and students that I look at everyday.  To this day, I have never worked with a student that I did not like.  Never giving up on the ability of any of them to teach or learn…until we got y’all.

I wonder about the real lives of famous people.  No one says how they really feel that much anymore for fear that it will hurt their endorsements, political chances or careers.  For once, I would love to know what the President really thinks about where our country is.  Or how he feels about being president.  C’mon, you are the most powerful man…I mean, person on the planet with the power to blow us all to kingdom come.  What happens if he really gets ANGRY.  Think about it.

I fear failing and the embarrassment that comes with it.  Well, no, well, yes.  I think most of us, myself especially, are guilty of giving up before we even try so that no one will laugh at us.  But I think about how many missed opportunities that I have had in my life because I was scared of not succeeding.  I might be earning a living as a professional actor right now if I wasn’t afraid of auditioning or meeting agents.  And there was that girl in Philadelphia…

I try to be more supportive of others.  As mouthy as I is, I find it hardest to say encouraging things to people, especially when they want to hear it (my wife would agree).  I just don’t want to say things to people…like I don’t want to tell someone who reeks of garlic that they smell pleasant.  I want to speak from the heart and be sincere.  I don’t want to say I like that shirt you have on if I don’t believe it.  When a person is not trying their best, how do you say to them “good job” (and I know that I used ‘good’)?

I hope to make the kids in my classes better students.  The measure of an “effective” teacher is not how much the students like you, it is whether or not they have learned from you.  Until I feel that I have accomplished this goal with at least one student, I am a thief stealing money from the taxpayers of Revere. 

I hope to have a house.  I cannot tell how much of this is my wife’s dream, and how much is my own anymore.  I cannot drive down a street without examining the architecture, the amount of land, the number of windows (I cannot live in a house without windows.  Where else would I daydream).  But part of me realizes that I may never be rich or even own a home.  In the end, we are all just dust.  The only thing that remains…the only thing will remain of me is the memory of me that people carry – family, friends, students…colleagues.  Will they remember me?  If so, then I will always have a house…a home…in their hearts and minds.

Here's my example:

I am from Sarah, Sarita, Maria Joana (only because everybody is), Princessa, and the bossy one. The oldest girl with two younger brothers, I was            always the princess, and the boss, at everything. My games, my rules. I try not to be bossy now, but I can’t help it if people do what I tell them, right?

I am from Portugal, the Azores, Sao Jorge, summers     where I grew tall like the cornstalks I ran through, where the burning sun made my skin turn gold. Where my father grew up, where he played soccer on the no-streetlight streets, where he taught me how to make flutes out of bamboo, where he died in a car crash five years ago.

I am from Reveah, born and raised. The land of no R’s and too much Dunkin’ Donuts. You want Chinese food? Call Peter Woo. Peter who? Peter Woo-hoo! A historic beach of carnivals and nightclubs. A beach that is now littered with cigarette butts and stinky seaweed. A land where tans are fake but ambition pure. A city that never stops moving but always stays the same.

I remember Disney. Cinderella castle. Mickey and all his friends dancing on stage. But then the magic was gone. Maleficent stole it, took it away. What were we to do? Mickey shouted, “Dreams come true!” All the little kids started shouting, and then I started shouting too. I let go, felt like a kid again, no worries, no judgements, just pure child joy.

I need my brothers. The one with the COD headset on ALL THE TIME and the one who paints ALL THE TIME and has electric blue hair. They keep me sane and drive me insane. I hate the farting, the burping, the messy rooms, the how-many-times-do-I-have-to-tell-you-there’s-a-lady-in-this-house-too-so-please-put-the-toilet-seat-down. But we’re a tripod. I can’t stand without my other two legs.

I need BOOKS. I need to feel the pages on my fingertips, smell the bindings when they’ve been tucked away in a library for too long, lay them on my chest to hold and think. I need their worlds to escape mine. I need their characters because sometimes (most of the time) I find them more interesting than the people I know.

I need writing. I don’t need Microsoft Word or Notes on my iPad. I need to feel my hand moving across that page furiously because I can’t get my thoughts down quick enough, feel my hand swirl up and down forming the words inside my head, have an artifact, a living memory of what was, what is, and what may come.

I believe that failures are a sign of strength. But if you fail and don’t learn, you are a fool. The struggles, the negatives, the push-down dirt-on-your-face-tears-streaming-down-your-eyes moments are the ones that I want to know about people. I believe in getting up, failing, getting up, failing again, and never quitting until you reach it.

I wonder what my life would be like if my father didn’t die. If I didn’t stay home with my mom and brothers, start my freshmen year in college by working thirty hours a week to help pay for groceries. Where would I have been instead? At a frat party? Where would I be today? In law school?

I fear dying before doing everything I want to do. I want to travel Europe, climb the Mayan Ruins, see the pyramids, see it all. But I want to be a published author, and have a family too. I want to be spontaneous, be crazy, skydive (even though I got asked a couple of months ago to go and I said no). Will I be too scared to do it all? I fear fear.

I try to be positive. I assume the worst about other people and what will happen to me. I pity myself and that’s become my worst fault. So every day I try to think positively. To see the good (excuse me Mr. H) in what’s in front of me. To appreciate all that I have. To look forward to tomorrow.

I hope to be the matriarch of my family, to be the storyteller, to be the “cool” grandmother, to have lived a life worth telling. I don’t want to be just another name. I want to be remembered by my family, so that when they speak of me, then they’ll have a story to tell. I never want the stories to wilt, to end. I want my life story, and then others, to continue growing and never stop living.

I hope to impact people’s lives. Either through teaching or writing, I want to have an effect on people the way my teachers and the books I’ve read had on me. I want to show someone that they are not alone. I want to teach someone something they’ve never understood. I want to have laid an imprint on that person’s heart.

I hope this helps all of you get an idea of what my and Mr. Hannah's expectations are. Please work hard on adding the "spice" to your own poems. And as always, please email me or Mr. Hannah if you have any questions.

DEETS:
In-class:
--I Am Poem Examples
--Expanding I Am Poems

HW:
--Expanding I Am Poems