.Sharing ~ Learning ~ Growing ........ The World Stories Project

Here is a place for people of all ages to share a bit of their lives.

 

 

 

 

 

There are plenty of other great stories!

January 2009 - Check out this website with a new educational experience for you to join!
http://www.earthismyclassroom.org

Click this button to get ideas for your story.

 

My Hero

My dad is my hero. He has always been there for me. My parents split up about three years ago, and my mom moved out. I have two older sisters, and a younger brother. My dad seemed to just step in and be there as both the mother and the father. Yeah, I still see my mom, but spending all my time with my dad, he kind of just takes both roles. When I wake up, he is there to say good morning. When I go to bed, he is there to say goodnight. My dad always thinks of others before himself. Especially his family. I can tell that his four kids are the most important thing to him. He goes to work each day to make sure we have food to eat and a roof over our heads. My dad has taught me that family is one of the most important things. He has been the best thing in my life, and I am so greatful to have him to take care of me. He always knows what to do, and helps me if I have a problem. He is understanding, and caring, and makes me realize how lucky I am to have such a good life.

My dad has taught me to never give up, and never leave the things that are most important in life. My dad knows what's most important, and I know he is never going to leave me. I can trust him, and I look up to him. My dad is the reason I am the person I am today. I want to be just like him, my dad is My Hero.

Kylie, age 13 Manchester New Hampshire, USA (submitted September 25, 2006)

World Stories Project

The World Stories Project is an opportunity for educators to share their community experiences with people from other cultures. Every day I work with students from all over the world representing many different cultures, races, countries, languages and religions. It is my job to teach the English language to children whose first language is the language of their country of origin. I have encountered many cultural challenges over the past few years. It is fascinating to me that many of my students come to America with little to no English language experience, yet, they are eager to learn and try very hard to do well in school. They ofthen are required to work harder than native English speakers but they never give up and I admire their determination.

I also have learned from my students many traditions and customs that I never knew existed. Working with children from all over the world has taught my community tolerance and acceptance. We now embrace the many different cultures represented in Manchester. I would not have had exposure to the beautiful traditions, foods, religions, music and languages represented by my students if I had chosen to teach a different subject. Not only are my students learning about American culture but I have been learning about my students' cultures.

My English Language Learner students and I have had a rare opportunity to share the unique gift of exchanging cultural information. I hope that my community will learn about Japanese culture and education through the World Stories Project and Japanese teachers and students will walk away with knowledge of American culture.

by Anne - English Language Learner Teacher, The Henry J. McLaughlin, Jr. Middle School, Manchester, New Hampshire, USA (submitted September 25, 2006

A Giant Sea Creature

Barbara- Teacher, Merrimack, NH - USA (submitted September 21, 2006)

Growing Up in Manchester, New Hampshire

I was born in the USA, a long time ago. I grew up on the eastside of Manchester, NH. I lived with my parents,wonderful grandfather and two brothers. We owned our own home, and didn't lack for anything. You see my Dad worked, three jobs, so we could get ahead. My Mom stayed home and took care of us. My grandfather was usually at home unless he was off working in his many gardens all over the place.

My grandfather was retired from the Public Service where he worked on the trolley cars. He drove them.

Our neighborhood had children that descended from people all over the globe. Mostly Irish, and French. I had a friend that was Jewish, also. My parents were first generation Americans. My mothers family came from County Mayo, Ireland. My father's family came from Gutenberg. Sweden. Life was good. There were no computers or TV's when I was little, but we had plenty of time to play outside, and our neighborhood was a very safe place. All the parents watched over all the children.

Pat- Customer Relations, FEMA - Weare, New Hampshire, USA (submitted July 27, 2006)

Pat with brothers Tommy and Bobby
circa 1946

 

 

 

 

Courage From the Heart

Have you ever experienced a war in your life that nearly led to losing your own? My family's journey into the United States began with this experience.

On May 21, 1994 there were gun shots heard around the town. My family and others in town knew of what was going to happen. We began to pack our possessions to leave our town and get away from the danger ahead. We knew our properties were about to be stolen away without our consent. The Share Company was ordered by the Nigerian government to take our oil.

This army of people wanted the rich oil which our townspeople worked so hard to own. We also knew that the leader of my town would be tortured and killed if captured. We were directed by our leader to flee to the forest with our families and belongings. We were shivering with fear because of the confusion of not knowing what was going to happen to our lives.

The strongest people stayed behind while others found safety in the woods. Night after night men and women who stayed behind were captured, whipped, and thrown in jail. Those who ran to the forest helped to gather food to survive. The young and the weak were hidden under ground while the others fought against the army.

As my people were captured many were burned alive, their hands were tied as hot fire was set to their bodies. Some were shot to death with their hands removed by bullets cutting through their skin. Young and old women were battered and dishonored by the soldiers. I saw and heard most of these evil things against my communities.

During these horrible attacks on my town all of our property was stolen and destroyed. Bombs were placed inside pipes that supplied oil and gas to our homes. This destroyed soil, vegetation, buildings, and power lines leaving us with nothing to survive with.

Even though we were able to travel back to our community, so much had been destroyed. Life could not move forward to the way it once was. The United States of America knewo all these awful thngs that werre happening to the Nigerian people.

While we were in camp, stories of these attacks were told by the youth through acting. They used letters of the alphabet to represent all the unspeakable acts that had happened to their communities. This dramatic acting was done for the Americans so that they would understand what we lived through. Many kinds of emotions ran through all who watched the stories being told. It made our minds and bodies shiver with grief.

The American government was troubled and touched by these assaults to our community. Food and money were being provided by the United States. We believed that this was God's helping hand and things would get better than they had been since this tragedy happened. Because God would continue to help us, prayer and fasting, three hundred people were chosen to be settled in the United States. I was one of the chosen few.

It was my time to say good-bye to my country and family. The United States government was waiting to take me, my two brothers, one sister, and the rest of the people to America. I had only a few minutes to say good-bye to my father. This all seemed like a sad dream because I knew I wouldn't see him again for at least six to ten years. Looking into his eyes for the last time expressed what was in my heart and mind. I knew he was filled with sadness and pride because he knew I was going to have a better life.

My father's final words to me were, "Remember where you come from, know where you are going, and always place God first in your life."

By Giobari Age 17- from Nigeria, now living in Manchester, New Hampshire - USA (submitted September 25, 2006)

My father was born in Poland in 1888, twenty years after our civil war! At that time, Poland was under forced occupation by three countries, Prussia, Austria, and Russia. My father's family was under Russian occupation in the beautiful town of Sandomierz, south of Warsaw. His father was a medic and was somewhat educated. The family was talented in many ways - musically, artistically, and my father was in an acting group. He also loved woodworking and helped with work on the new Catholic church. He also loved gardening, politics, and mathematics. He joined a rebellious group of young men who tried to resist the Russians, without success.

As a young man he immigrated to America with his mother and two sisters, his father and one sister remained behind. He met my mother (around 1917) they married and settled down. He tried several jobs, owned a butcher shop for awhile, but gave too much credit to customers. During the depression he was out of work for three years, would not accept relief, and built barns and did carpentry to support his wife and three daughters. Finally he got a a job on the New Jersey Central Railroad and worked there for thirty years until he was seventy. He got up at 5 am to go to work each day, and did heavy repair work on train engines - first steam, later diesal.

While my mother and father lived an estranged, unhappy married life, they stayed together and provided three girls and his wife with a reasonably comfortable life, with all of us receiving college degrees. I loved my father and admired his courage and industriousness, but find it painful to think his life was not better.

Eleanor - Retired Teacher - New London, New Hampshire, USA (submitted July 31, 2006)

My Mother

My mother was a bright, intelligent, and very beautiful woman with a charismatic personality. She was born in an impoverished, poor and conquered country - Poland (at that time divided under Russian, Prussian, and Austrian rule) and people were told not to speak Polish. Children were to learn only Austrian in schools. How difficult was that? Despite little formal education and with the help of the peasant wages of her father who was a blacksmith, she was able to immigrate to America at age 17. She got a job as a domestic, saved money to go to night school, married, and had three children - girls - I was the third. She loved America and became a naturalized citizen. She liked to travel, read, study, and enjoy all the excitment of American life. Art and beauty were her joys and she quietly inspired and encouraged me especially in my artistic talents. She died at age 95 having given me encouragement, love, a good education, and a fine appreciation of the blessings of life everywhere.

Eleanor - Retired Teacher - New London, New Hampshire, USA (submitted July 27, 2006)

When asked if I could give a story of my family's coming of age, I had to think about what impact that it had on my life. There were so many different stories I did not know where to begin. I asked for personal guidance from my brother and sister, so in a small way we share in this narrative. Let us begin from the beginning, my mother came from a large French Canadian family. She was number eighteen of twenty children. My grandparents raised fourteen of these children to maturity. My mother, as well as her two younger brothers, were born in the United States. When my grandparents came here their oldest daughter was married and wanted to stay in Canada with her family. When my mother was thirty years old and preganant with my brother, two ladies knocked on her front door. She did not know who these ladies were, or why they wanted to see my grandmother. After introductions were made and much to my mother's surprise, she for the first time met her oldest sister, Florida and her niece Marion. this in a small way shows how large the family was, as compared to today. But, I am getting ahead of myself and the story. click here to continue

Louise- Retired Teacher - Manchester, New Hampshire, USA (submitted July 26, 2006)

Reflecting on Dad

My father was a hardworking electrician. He worked with his father and brother to establish a small electric company. On call 24 hours a day, we heard him grumble when the phone rang at two in the morning on a cold winter night, but he went to resolve the problem. Dad was the caretaker of all of us. He knew that his paycheck was the sole support of his family and was proud to bring it home every week. He did most of the grocery shopping, especially meats. On weekends he would tend to the garden and mow the lawn. He fished on occasion and went hunting in late fall. But his main concern was taking care of the family. He taught me that hard work was never to be avoided...it strengthened the soul. Life was good and should be enjoyed to the fullest...laugh, play and have fun...after work was done. He was my symbol of greatness and as I pass through life, each success is a reflection of the values instilled in me by his actions.

Barbara - Retired Teacher/Administrator - Manchester, New Hampshire, USA (submitted July 15, 2006)