Where I'm From--8th graders

During this session, we read Willie Perdomo's "Where I'm From," from his book Where a Nickel Costs a Dime. We discussed the tools that Perdomo used to portray a picture of his neighborhood, and I asked them to write their own poems about home and neighborhood, making sure to include images from all five senses.

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Mr. Stalla, Rm. 201, 8th grade

West Lawn
Raul G.

Where I’m from street smarts can
be more valuable than book smarts.
I see the scared faces of the troubled teens
afraid to walk down the block. I see
the sneaky dope and drug dealers next
to where the kids play. I see them
smile and laugh as I walk by. Reminds
of when I was a little kid, my only job
was to have fun.

The sun goes down, forks go up
and dig into the delicious meal before
me. The smell of handmade tortillas
on the stove.


56 n Whipple
65 n Kilpatrick
Antonio G.

see dirty lawns
broken-down cars in the yards gangbangers
driving in their customs. I feel scared
because I remember hearing gunshots
at night.

I see nice houses
and trimmed hedges. I see
gangbangers passing in their customs still
I feel nervous every time
I walk out the door.


Untitled
Carina A.

Where I’m from Mexico stays in our
hearts like a newborn memory.
I feel cared for and scared for the
police that don’t sleep.
Hear the ambulance wake you up at night.
Smell the fresh coffee in the morning
and hear the groans of the people who
have to give up their day.

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Ms. Catinella, Rm. 202, 8th grade


Everyone Asks Me (excerpt)
Alejandra S.

Everybody asks me where I’m from.
Who I am?
What am I? What’s my race?
Well, I’m everywhere, park, school.
I always hear fights, see fights.
I’m not American. I’m mixed. People
make fun of that, calling names.
I love my home, but that’s not where
I belong. I would rather be where
many trees are. Where it’s always fall.
My life only has one description: books, or
a book without an end.
The smell of fresh air in front of my house.
I always hear the word gang, everywhere
I go I hear that word.
I always see people making out, with different
ages, and I think it’s disgusting. I always see
pregnant girls my age.
I’m a Latina, that’s all I tell people.
I have many cultures and I’m not in only
one place...


Come and Go
Edith A.

I like the noise of the
kids playing happy outside,
the birds singing.
I like when the sun comes
out and the moon goes in.
I look at the sun and I
feel peace, I see the
moon and it’s time to go
to sleep.
I leave the country and then
I come back.
I like the smell in the
morning of bread and hot
coffee, people have changed
from right to wrong,
peace to noise. Families
to divorce. I come and go
out the country, I come
and go.

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Mr. Balcazar, Rm. 203, 8th grade

My Life
Jocelin J.

Where I’m from, I see everyone outside
driving, working, playing or fighting, hearing
the laughter of children, the crying of
a mother when losing a special person.

When I try to tell someone where
I’m from, I remember a lot, that I’m
scared to say and might think something
different. I feel my world is not
dangerous, but not safe. My feelings may
get hurt by people ’cause of my personality
but I’m used to it.

When I taste my mom’s
tamales, or arroz con leche, or smell
the bakeries in my world, it makes it
seem so sweet. When it’s not,
people get judged deeply. My world is
cool for me. Do you like my world?
Do you think it’s safe?


Chicago
Samantha G.

Tall building blocking the sun.
Honking horns all over town.
The swishing waves hitting
the sand. The wind that blows
the leaves away.


Where I go!
Andrea S.

Where I go, the ghetto of 77 and
Homan, where all you hear is
music and people talking, from
where you can smell the cooking
of fish in the corner restaurant.
Where I go, the ghetto, where all
you see is graffiti and gangs.
Where you can taste the pancakes
that my aunt makes every day. Where
I go it feels just like home, the
feel of the breeze and the autumn
leaves.

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Ms. Fenton, Rm. 204, 8th grade

Untitled
Guadalupe A.

Where I am from it is called
the windy city. The sound
of laughter at children’s play.
The smell of arroz con leche
in the kitchen. The sound of
victory in a home run. Silence
of my neighborhood at night.

Where I am from there
is peace. Only noisy when
neighbors nearby playing their
rock band. The variety of
different cultures. As my dad
comes from a hard day from work.
You can see the artificial lights
in the sky.

Where I am from there
are planes flying over my house.
The cats creep silently back
and forth from the alley.


My ’Hood
Richard S.

Where my ’hood’s from is hot and
the smell of flowers is everywhere. I seem my
grandmother watering her flowers and my uncle
feeding the bird and my puppy run, I hear my
friends screaming Hike while they play football
on the street. I taste the eggs and beans
my grandmother cooks. Feel the warmness on my
feet from heat of the sun and the 24s on
my cousin’s truck and the sound of rap music
coming from his giant speakers. That’s my ’hood.


Mexico
Frank M.

Where I am from
I like the nice smell
of burning wood. Where
I am from you see poor
all over the place, kids
without shoes, dogs all over
the place. Where I am from
the taste of tamales is the
best taste you can taste
with a cup of Haredo. Where I am
from there are gangs, violence,
and good candy.