I Am From…

When we recognize how our past shapes ourselves, we can better understand and respect humanity. Everyone has a story and a journey.

I am from Ray Geertsma and Grace Bosma, from Henrick Bosma and Minke Zylstra, Martin Geertsma and Fenny Bouma-Dutch as far back as Ancestry.com can find.

I am from strength, resilience, and a touch (ok, maybe a little more) of stubbornness passed down from grandparents who survived WWII, lost sisters to the Nazis because they had special needs, and who immigrated to Canada in search of a fresh start.

I am from Stompots, Sunday soup, Dropjes, and passing king peppermints in church while us 4 kids sat on hard pews trying to sit still.

I am from Jackson Street, with a wrap around driveway and big evergreens that surrounded our house.

I am from climbing trees and hoisting myself onto the roof, laying on the skylight and scaring the shit out of my mom.  From building a treehouse by removing the shingles from the shed roof because my dad told us to ‘find your own nails’.

I am from falling out of a tree and breaking my foot in front of my first boyfriend to climbing a tree to find a lost disc with my now boyfriend.

I am from swinging on the branches of my favourite tree, a weeping willow.

I am from the nickname ‘monkey’ and I don’t think you need to wonder why.

I am from a strawberry shortcake bike with a banana seat and bleeding toes because I refused to wear shoes AND use my breaks. From riding my bike to the corner store to get my mom Craven A pouch because she called ahead to let them know and collecting pop cans on the way to buy 5 cent candies.

I am from running past the dark hallway that separated my brother’s room and mine, to hearing the prison announcements from down the street as I fell asleep, and a few near break-ins.

I am from fighting over mud puddles with my first best friend and neighbour Kenny (we were Kenny and Jenny), fighting over street hockey with his brother Michael, and being persuaded to sit under their trampoline while my brother jumped on my extended arm…you can guess how that went! Broken arm #1.

I am from more broken bones, multiple stitches, assorted chipped teeth, and a mother who wondered if the dr. would call CPS on her because I was always injured…they never did, they just smirked when they saw me.

I am from tap and jazz shoes because I couldn’t sit still, and music and movement were my outlet and still are. I am from musicals, plays, and performances in my living room all the way to New York City.

I am from the farm on McCallum Road.  From hayloft swings and mazes, sledding down 10 acres of rolling hills, learning to ride horses, watching cows being born, snuggling new calves, and horrifically watching their castration.

I am from collect calls, recording “Mom, can you pick me up” where I was supposed to leave my name (to avoid the charges) to let my mom know I was finished at the mall.

I am from Cultus Lake every summer for a week or two of mountains, lakes, and trees where hearing my moms whistle across the campground meant it was time for the adventures to end for the day. I am from continuing the tradition with my own kids, minus the whistle, because 1) I can’t and 2) my kids adventure a lot less than me!

I am from McDonalds, Shell, IHop, Dynamic Dance, Swiss Chalet, Boston Pizza, JoJo’s, daycare, being an EA, and now a teacher.  From choreographing Beauty and the Beast and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat to customer service to working with children and losing a very special little girl.

I am from getting married too young but with zero regrets. From having three amazing children who at the ages of 19, 16, and 12, still call me mama, mommy, and mother and fill my life with adventure and challenge and reflection.

I am from never doing anything halfway.  From my diploma at Sprott Shaw, to my degree at UFV and now Simon Fraser, I have blossomed from fragile to strong, still finding myself and learning not to be ashamed.

I am from ADHD, a recent diagnosis that was always suspected but was embarrassed about.  I am from learning that it is both my superpower and my weakness.  Big heart/Big mouth, Big Feelings/Too much, Big interests/Fixations, interruptions, and random facts.

I am from Majestic cres.  Where I look forward to summers and a sun I can worship on my deck with a craft cider and a book, every year feeling just a bit more confident and learning to relax. 

I am from being in love with my best friend

From a new life, another chance, a new job, and new goals.  From bungee jumping, to parasailing, to disc golf, bike rides, Penticton, beaches, paddleboarding, hiking, poetry, art, card games and craft breweries.  From encouragement, acceptance, and support.  From never thinking I would become a teacher, and now here I am.

I am from growth and lifelong learning. 

I am from joy.

When I began writing my “I am from” poem, I decided to create a mind map to help organize my thoughts because I quickly realized that life is so much more than a single linear event. Every instance could have been changed my one simple decision, and I would have been an entirely different person. No one else has my story, not even my siblings who were raised with me. This observation is essential to being an educator. Sharing our poems reinforced that for me. Hearing where one another comes from, connecting through tears and hurt, or laughter and ease connects us, once again, to humanity and gives us a deeper understanding and ability to appreciate one another for who they are.