Where the East Meets the West Where the east meets the west At the end of the world Where the sky meets the sea At the end of the earth Where the world is twirled The view is so beautiful The sky is so calm At the end of the earth Where the east meets the west At the end of the world Where the world is twirled. Emma H. fourth grade

My Issue Hey little twerp Hey little brat You think you're really tough You think you're all that Sitting and relaxing on my couch Mom says to get up But you always slouch Eating all the ice cream every day Doing what you want Getting your own way Spying on my friends You hit me in my back A good kick in the buttocks is what you lack Now it's time for payback And don't forget You thought I was nice But you ain't seen nothing yet Jane C. sixth grade

Why I Was Late for School

This is why I was late for school.

First, last night, I was watching my favorite TV show until eleven o’ clock, and so I was so tired that I forgot to set my alarm clock. So I woke up at ten o’ clock. Then, I was making toast and the toaster exploded, so I had to have cereal, but there was none, so I had to go to Key Food. But it wasn’t open. (By the way, I was still in my pajamas. They’re white with little bears on them.) So I had to have a blueberry muffin.

Then I was brushing my teeth, and the toothbrush snapped in half, but my mom didn’t have another one. So, she had to buy one. Then there was only Colgate, not Crest. I hate Colgate! That spicy taste is so disgusting.

Then I had a clothes crisis. The pink shirt and the jeans, or the yellow shirt and the overalls? Or the green shirt and jeans? Finally I decided on the blue shirt and overalls. Then my brush got tangled in my hair so I had to go to the hair salon and get my hair cut, and then I decided to wait until my hair was grown out to go to school. So I made myself lunch. I had a craving for toasted bread with cream cheese on it, but then I remembered that the toaster was broken, so I gave up and went to school.

Genevieve H.
fourth grade

Seen and Unseen

    To begin with, his life was just not a fun one. His grades were bad, just unlucky. On this particular day he was sitting at his desk. The teacher was blabbing aimless sounds. His mind drifted to the dimension he always daydreamed about. He stood in an open field. Perfect virtual life forms drifted across bright red hearts. But now, a huge figure blocked out the sunlight. It progressed toward him. All his magical world turned gray as it passed, the hearts bursting like balloons being poked with a pin. Its piercing cry echoed throughout his mind.
     “Benjamin, how do you spell it?!?!”
     “I-T.”
     The class burst out laughing. Ben's eyes glazed over and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Just to add insult to injury, the teacher spoke.
     "Benjamin Islel Williams, if you do not pay attention in class one more time you will be penalized severely!"
     Later at home, Ben was discussing important matters with his parents. They were yet again embarking on the matter of mental treatment (otherwise known as visiting a psychologist).
     “It will be good for you, honey!”
     “But what will the kids think?”
     “Who will know?”
     The usual, except today his mom was quite serious about it. Ben finally gave up and agreed to try it once.
     The next day was Saturday, the day when most people would run around and play. He would sit inside, crying hysterically and occasionally vomiting from dehydration. His homework, which he could not understand, lay in front of him on the coffee table like the open door to Hell. The phone rang. He picked it up and said a timorous, “Hello.”
     “Psycho!” A high-pitched voice on the phone started to laugh hysterically and hung up.
     Ben started bawling even louder and kicked the phone into the wall. A sudden rap on the door made his attention wander. He slowly approached the door. He opened the peep-hole to see who it was. A strange lady stood in the doorway. She had short black hair and a pearl white dress, and she was holding a briefcase.
     He pressed the talk button on the monitor and asked, “Who is it?”
     “Doctor Carver.”
     Ben opened the door as he remembered his new psychologist's last name was Carver. She stepped inside the room. She looked at Ben and seemed to focus all her attention on the blond-haired, blue-eyed child. He was filling her mind, sinking into her pores. She was analyzing him, downloading all the information about him without even talking to him. She sat down into the chair next to the door and closed her eyes.
     Benjamin stood in awe, too afraid to shut the door. She walked over to him. She reached into her bag. Beads of sweat dripped down his face. She quickly pulled out a Marvin-the-Martian doll and said in an incredibly accurate cartoon voice, “ Hello, earthlings.” Ben burst out laughing. This continued on, with him laughing as she pulled the strangest things from her bag, until it was seven o’clock. When she announced to Ben and his parents that she had to go, Ben started to cry hysterically.
     “No, don’t go, please!!”
     This repeated for eight weeks. He felt happy and showed improvement, then blew it when she left. After eight weeks of trying hard, and bringing in little doodads, she decided his case could not be solved. In grief, she told his parents about the situation and left.
     But Ben and Dr. Carver had not lost their friendship together, far from it. They would always give each other a call and exchange a few laughs.
    After a while Ben stopped calling. Dr. Carver decided to call him but got his mother.
     “Hello?”
     “Hi, this is Jane Carver. May I speak to Ben, please?”
     “I'm sorry, Ben can’t speak to you now.”
     Then suddenly, Ben picked up in his room.
     “Mom, I'll talk to her.”
     “Hi, Ben,” Dr. Carver said. “What's up ?”
     “Depressed!”
     “Why ?”
     “Dad died. I swear to god, I'd kill myself kill myself if Mom didn't lock up the knives!”
     “I'll be right over!”
     She slammed down the phone and went to pack her bag: stuffed animals, action figures, trading cards, etc.. Finally, she stepped over to her bureau, opened one of the drawers, and pulled out a loaded pistol. She dropped it into her bag. She and he knew it was the only cure, the only cure.

Chris A.
fifth grade

When you close your eyes
There comes a darkness so complete
It is filled with colors.
Dark red and dark green flash and mix
While your eyes are constantly adjusting,
Trying to see where they can’t.
In a dark room
The darkness is suffocating
Like a wool blanket,
Coming from every side,
Pressing, straining your eyes
Searching for the light,
Like a man dying of thirst for water.
Outside, with a new moon,
The stars highlight the tops of the trees,
Making the area underneath seem more absolute.
And it draws you towards it,
Unwilling and uncertain.
But by the time you are at the edge,
It is dawn.

Britton T.
seventh grade

The Light Hurts My Eyes

     I’ve almost forgotten my name is Yalith. I’ve been locked in this dark, cold basement for four-and-a-half months. My kidnapper is a psychopath who thinks I’m his daughter. He calls me Ella. I think it’s a good thing that he thinks I’m his daughter because at least he won’t hurt me or kill me. I am twelve-and-half-years old, and I thought that I was becoming a woman. I thought I wasn't a kid anymore. I guess I was wrong because I went right ahead and got kidnapped. I didn't really stop him when he climbed into my room through the open window and picked me up from my bed. I didn't scream or hit at him. I was still half asleep, and I thought I was dreaming, so I kept pinching myself like an idiot. I didn't realize what was really happening until I was tied up in his car with a red patch on my left arm.
     Now I am stuck in this basement, and I will probably be here until I die or the man who kidnapped me dies. He really does think that I'm his daughter because he treats me that way. I have a nice twin bed with fresh pink sheets every week, and a television with cable, and even a book case filled with good books. But I still miss my parents and my cat. Last week I told him I missed my parents. Then he bought me a kitten. I named her Captive. They've probably given up looking for me by now. I'll probably be here forever. I have often wondered why he is like this. My best guess is he had a daughter named Ella who died. He thinks she's still alive, and I'm her.
     Sometimes I feel bad for Jim. He's very upset about his daughter's death. He must have loved her very much, so much that he won't accept that she's dead. He has me instead. Except for the fact that he kidnapped me, he's a very nice man who flew off his rocker when he lost his daughter. I think maybe in the back of his mind he knows I'm not his daughter; he just won't admit it to himself. He's completely delusional.
     Lately he's been treating me even more like his daughter. Last week he let me outside in his backyard. The fresh air felt nice, but it was after dark so I had no way to escape. My basement is no longer dark because he added a bright lamp. It's still not like sunlight. The light hurts my eyes.
     It's November, and I have the flu. I must have gotten it from Jim; who else is there? He said he's taking me to the doctor in two weeks. It would be a good chance to escape, but I think I will be better by then and he will cancel the appointment. He said I got the flu because I'm too cold, so he put an extra heater in the room. Now I am warm.
     I have been thinking less and less about escaping, and more about staying put. One day, Jim will take me out into the real world and I will run away. I will almost feel guilty, leaving Jim; he will be so lonely. Life is getting more bearable.
     I am now allowed upstairs for meals. Every night we have dinner at six-thirty. At seven-fifteen we play a board game or cards. At eight we watch a movie from the video store. When the movie is over, I get ready for bed. My bed time is ten-thirty.
     I have gotten used to answering to the name Ella. Once a week Jim takes me on one-hour trips to the village. Everyone we bump into there that Jim knows looks at me and says, "My, have you grown up! You grew so much. I remember when you were this tall." Then they put their hand at my shoulder level. I haven't run away yet because there it would be too easy to catch me, and everyone in the village thinks I'm Ella.
     Yesterday was my thirteenth birthday. Jim took me to an amusement park. I love big rides and so does he. We went on all the big rides together; it was so much fun. I did a guess-your-age thing, and I won a goldfish. I named it Yalith, I don't know why. The name just popped into my head. Maybe I used to know someone named Yalith.
     Now I am allowed outside whenever I want, even without Dad. Sometimes I go to the corner store or to my friend's house or to the library.
     I'm going to school tomorrow. Ninth grade. I'm in high school now&emdash;it will be so cool. I can't wait till the morning.
     It's eight o'clock in the morning and I'm in school. My first class starts in five minutes. Here's the door. The classroom is big. There aren't that many kids. I must be early.
     "Hello, you must be Yalith! My name is Ms. Sidwell; I'm your math teacher this year," the woman standing at the front of the class says.
     "No, I'm not Yalith. Yalith is my goldfish. It must be a mistake."
     "Yalith is the only new student in my class," she says. She was annoyed.
     "But my name isn't Yalith. I'm Ella."
     "Oh yes, Ella, you were in my sixth grade class. It must have been a mistake. I wonder who Yalith is. My, you have grown."
     "Yes, I have."

Stephanie R.
seventh grade

Every life has a beginning and an end I guess I will never know when I am in the middle of it Everything that starts always ends My life is like a maze where I am lost. Ayaka H. seventh grade

The Big Change

     I was almost three, a happy little boy, wearing diapers. I could poop and pee whenever I wanted to.
     Then I had a big change. I was going to go to school. Before school started, there was a meeting for the parents where they met the teachers. Mom asked questions like whether they change diapers, and stuff like that. At the end, the teacher asked whose children still wore diapers. My mom was the only one with her hand raised.
     I started school that week. Before we went home, the class had a daily trip to the bathroom. There were ten stalls with steps; every child except me went to the bathroom.
     A week after school started was my birthday. Mom had a talk with me&emdash;the subject was diapers. Mom said, "I will give you a present every time you use the potty." By the end of the week, I was using the potty.
     I kept on going to school, and I went to the bathroom like everyone else.

David B.
fifth grade

Switched Shoes These aren’t my shoes Emily B. seventh grade

Solo (song lyrics) We stand alone In a one-way atmosphere Got a choke-hold on society Yeah, you and the rest of the world We were trapped In war with each other For no reason But to kill one another Complain all you want It ain’t gonna change Unless we make a difference Unplug this world From its socket Turn it to a rocket For peaceful living on Earth You think you can’t make the world a better place Well think again I don’t steal But I wanna heal There are things we just can’t attain Explain Abstain We can’t dodge this constant rain Unplug this world From its socket Turn it to a rocket For peaceful living on the Earth I don’t care what you have You need to understand my plan Give up your worldly possessions And listen up Matt B. eighth grade

Hunter The wind blew softly across the moor. A white rabbit ran from an eagle. Its giant widespread wings warn all small animals not to come close. He dives. The white rabbit dangles loosely from the bird’s sharp talons, eyes frozen forever with a terrified stare. Hannah J. fifth grade

My Tongue Slides Over

     My tongue slides over my glossy lips
and I am taken back. Back on the plain,
back to the picture of you, on the beach,
the rolling waves behind you. All that
and the wind blowing through your hair.
I keep forgetting to burn it, or at least
send it back to you with a nasty note
or something.
      The bell on the top of the diner door
rings softly, just like it used to
when you opened the door for me
after treating me to breakfast. It is still you,
but it's not me walking past your smiling face now.
It's her. The change you said you needed.
      You gave me that banana coconut lip gloss.
It tasted so good, but now that I see her,
it tastes like shit.

Olivia B.
eighth grade

Baby

     I think that the only reason I called her was to talk. But that soon turned into a long conversation on how to raise a child: her telling me that I was getting it all wrong, and me whimpering, apologizing for my laziness, and my short attention span to the details of mothering. She cursed at me and told me that I better give her the child if I wanted to have any chance to save it from myself. She told me that she would do me a favor and take it. So I gave it to her. I loved my child and I only wanted what was best for her. I thought I had done a good job in raising her, but as always, mother knows best.
     I had named her Ashley and she was the most beautiful thing in the world. She had deep brown eyes that reassured you that everything would be okay. But when mother came, she told me that Ashley was a stupid name. Who would ever name their child Ashley? What kind of mother was I to raise her like this? She told me that I was lucky that I had such a good mother who would take care of my daughter for me. She told me that I should check into a mental hospital. I was loony, she had said. I didn't deserve a child. How could I have gotten pregnant? What was wrong with me? That night she took Ashley, I cried.
     She allowed me visitation rights every weekend for one hour which she would watch closely. There were strict rules: no hugging, no kissing, and I could only call her by her first name, which was Dara. Dara was the name of her mother whom she had adored. She had been a good daughter. I was not. I had disobeyed her and now I was paying for it. I was too stupid to have a daughter. I was a stupid girl and I didn't deserve a daughter.
     Every night I kicked myself for being so stupid. Getting pregnant before the wedding was forbidden. When my mother found out, she called me a slut and told me I was never allowed back into her house again. But when I had Ashley, she called telling me that she would forgive me. But I would have to get rid of Robert. He was the problem. Couldn't I see that he was trying to take me away from my mother? Or was I too blind to see that?
     The next day I told Robert I wanted a divorce. He cried and it was like a stake through my heart. But I couldn't lose my mother. She had given birth to me and it wasn't fair because I was such a disappointment. She was only trying to help me. I told Robert that he didn't understand. I didn't expect him to. I had done a sinful thing getting pregnant. When I told this to Robert he asked me since when had I become a Christian? I'm not! I had screamed. I just want my mother to love me! She won't love me anymore if I stay with you. That night Robert slept on the couch.
     Julie, my mother, had always said, when you get older you better find a stupid man to fall in love with you because no smart man would ever love you back, and I won't have you living with me when you're twenty-two and out of college. Yes, mother, I had said. But I always fell for the ones I couldn't have. The jocks. They only liked girls on the cheerleading squad. When I told my mother I wanted to be on the cheerleading squad she told me that only sluts are on those. Did I want boys looking at my panties and getting horrible thoughts in their heads? No, I had said. I never talked about cheer leading after that.
     Robert gets visitation rights. He doesn't understand why I gave her to my mother. He wants to file a complaint. He says my mother is abusive. I laugh and ask him if he sees any scars on my body. He says yes, but you would have to cut open my heart to see them.
     Every night I dream of Ashley. Her little laugh, her twinkling eyes, everything that made her so perfect. I asked my mother how she was. Fine, she had said. But the damage I had done would take a long time to undo. And when she was okay, she would give her up for adoption because she didn't want to take care of another baby and I wasn't capable of taking care of mine. I cried and cried. I would never see my baby again. My mother told me that it was for the best. Did I want her to grow up with a mother incapable of taking care of her? No, I had said.
     They needed Robert and me to sign the papers. I couldn't convince him, though. My mother talked to him and after that he agreed. I signed the papers and after that he signed reluctantly. We had given up our baby. It was done. I had given her up and would never see her again. I collapsed in Robert's arms. I had done what I had to do.

Nina J.
seventh grade