MY WORD! 2012 CLASS DESCRIPTIONS
Third Grade:
Students worked with Alan Britt on basic poetic sounds such
as onomatopoeia and on poetic imagery such as simile,
metaphor and personification.
Poet Virginia Crawford led third graders on an imaginary
journey and had them describe what they experience with
their senses. They then delved into the sense of sound and
wrote poems using onomatopoeia and alliteration.
Fourth Grade:
Elisabeth Dahl and her students read from Grace Lin’s new
book, Dumpling Days, and then discussed and wrote their
own “fish out of water” stories.
Karen Homann did prewriting exercises with the students
with the goal of developing a short story. Using exercises on
how to improve vocabulary, how to create more vivid
descriptions, and how to get inspiration from other writers,
the students wrote drafts of their work.
Liz Pelton: Writing about dance requires the use of vivid
images, often drawn from nature, to capture the essence of
fleeting movement. Students worked together to
create descriptive writing about dance as well
as choreography about words.
William Sullivan introduced students to William Carlos
Williams’ “This Is Just to Say,” one of the most prominent
imagist poems in recorded history. Students created their
own versions of imagist poems, which are simple on the
surface, but express deeper meanings.
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Fifth Grade:
Bob Friedman presented a multimedia, arts-integrated lesson
for 5th grade students investigating songs of the American
Colonial period, deconstructing “Yankee Doodle,” and
learning some skills of the songwriting craft. The students
completed this lesson by writing their own lyrics to a period
melody using what they have learned in social studies class
this year about the attitudes of Colonial patriots.
Sixth Grade:
Thom Grizzard helped students to examine the use of
rhetoric as it applies to presidential campaigns, which is an
extension of the students’ study of the novel Animal Farm.
Or, as he put it, “I taught them about the truth…maybe.”
Anne Heuisler: Students read models of different poetic
forms, such as haiku, cinquain, diamante, and pantoum, and
will practiced writing original poems of their own.
In the Writing Fairy Tales workshop with Barbara
Morrison, students learned about story structure by reading
fairy tales written by elementary school students in St. Lucia
and then wrote their own stories.
John Rivera: “Advocating for a Just Cause.” The letter to the
editor is the one access mass media that’s open to everyone.
Students examined New York Times letters to the editor,
which can be no longer than 150 words, to produce their
own succinct advocacy letters.
Stephanie Shapiro: “Short Story Slam: When Words (and
Ideas) Collide.” Using word prompts, photos and objects as
inspiration, students each wrote a 50-100 word short story.
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Seventh Grade:
Jamaal Collier integrated his lesson with The Contender, a
novel that the students have been studying. Students used
poetry as a guide to learn that although adversity can put you
up against the ropes and even knock you down, selfawareness, confidence and perseverance are essential to
keeping you in the fight of life.
In Maiju Lehmijoki-Gardner’s class, students wrote about
urban life, health, and hope. They used pictures from various
Baltimore neighborhoods and wrote about the ways in which
these different neighborhoods influence the inhabitants’
health. Using the concepts of creative non-fiction, students
situated themselves in the pictures, focused on the ways in
which the neighborhoods would make them feel physically
and mentally, and looked for literary ways to emphasize the
dimension of hope in each picture.
Kate Shatzkin led a workshop on persuasive writing, covering
the successful elements of a newspaper op-ed submission,
including backing up an argument with facts, making an issue
relevant and timely, and issuing an effective call to action.
Joan Weber had her students explore playwriting and
character through the theatrical device of the monologue in a
lesson integrated with their study of modern China.
Marion Winik offered an introduction to the personal essay
and gave students a chance to write a short piece of their own.
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Eighth Grade
Emily Aubrey taught her students about the style and
peculiarities of web-based writing.
Carly Bianco and Alexandra Good focused on descriptive
language and creative short story writing.
Warren Elgort and Nathan Risinger invited students use
their five senses to explore the art of storytelling.
Anne Haddad presented “Everyone’s a Critic!” Students
learned to write with authority to produce a short critical
review of a film, book, television show, or other artistic
work.
Justin Kramon asked students to create a character “profile”
based on a photograph each one received. Students then
wrote scenes based on the characters.
Olu Butterfly Woods had her students do some necessary
showing off, using hyperbole in the spirit of poet
Muhammad Ali and of Nikki Giovanni’s “Ego Trippin.”
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THIRD GRADE
Poetry with Alan Britt
Time
by Harry Boru
Time is wonderful
Sometimes bad
Sometimes it helps
Sometimes it doesn’t
Sometimes it’s like happiness
Sometimes it’s like sorrow
It goes like fun
It comes like a scent of cinnamon
If you want to do it,
you have to work hard
before time runs out!
Poem
by Olivia Koulish
I wrote a poem
My poem
One for myself
It goes along with me
Wherever I go
It stays stuck to me
Like wet clothes
My poem
Brain Magnet
by Aaron Villahermosa
My brain is like a magnet catching thoughts.
It’s catching poems, math problems soaring in the sky.
My brain is like a spider web so silky, catching flies in the sky.
My brain is a magnet.
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Who am I?
by Isaac Chang
I am flying in the air
I am blue as the sky
I am fast as lightning
Who am I?
I am sprinting on a plain
I am chasing a deer
I am as swift as a shark
Who am I?
I am sitting at my desk
I am writing a poem
I am having fun
Who am I?
My Thoughts are Stuck
by Griffin Angel
My thoughts are stuck
together like cheese. Please. Please
come out you silly little thoughts. Get
out! Get out! Get out of my head and
fall onto my paper instead!
Billy Jay
by Mariah Damon
Billy Jay had a moustache
That was so long it went to Atlanta.
Billy Jay walked everywhere
Destroying buildings in his path.
As his moustache grew
He did, too.
Soon he could use
The Earth as a pillow
And put his feet
On the moon.
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My Thought Box
by Chielota Uma
Oh my thoughts!
I can’t find them.
They flew out of my head like
invisible birds.
My pockets are empty. They
can’t be in there! Maybe I
should ask a hare
Ha! I’ve already written half of
my poem. They’re coming back!
Wait! They were in my brain, all
in a box!
Thoughts Raining in the World
by Diana Berante
Where can my thoughts be? I think they
are in California hanging around on the
beach. Or maybe they are in Florida
popping like popcorn in the circus
on a warm spring day. Or maybe they
are on a flower sliding down like soft
rain. Or maybe they are in my shoes
trying to get to my brain.
Thoughts in my Sock
by Caroline Adams
All my thoughts are in my sock.
I can’t get them out because
they are like molecules! They
are tickling me so much I want
them to stop! Then all these
ants crawl on my sock and pull
thoughts out of my sock! The
tickling stops! Hooray for the
ants that crawled on my sock!
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I Did Not Have Any Thoughts
by Michael Allen
I don’t have anything in
my head. Little fireflies
take my thoughts out and as
bright as they are they are
glistening in the sky. Some
are in my room and because
they are so tiny I can’t see
them. They are floating
everywhere. Will somebody help
me find them? I have no thoughts
in my mind!
Buzzing Bees
by Olu Kopano
Buzzing bees are all in my ear.
They’re going buzz buzz buzz.
They are telling me something
but I can’t understand them. They’re
as yellow as highlighters gathering
honey honey honey drip drip drip
drop! Please gather honey for me
drip drip drop!
The Stallion
by Anna Doherty
His soft silky coat like rich dark chocolate
Running so fast with the wind swoosh swoosh
With his hooves slamming hard against the
gravel ground clipity clump, clipity clump
When the beautiful stallion neighs, he
makes the whole ground rumble RUMBLE!
The beautiful creature gallops through
the night and vanishes deep into the darkness
SWOOSH!
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Rainy Day
by Grace Gamper
Plip plop. Plip plop. Patter Patter Patter.
Rain bounces off leaves and splashes
On the prickle of a hedgehog.
Splash!
Bullfrog hidden in the mud
Comes up to breath and Plip! Plip! Plip!
Water splashes on the slimy, bumpy, wet
Back of the frog.
Rabbits hidden in their hut safe and sound.
Thunder Booooommmmmsssss!
Lightning flashes Flash! Flash!
Lighting up the whole sky like a lamp
Turned on...and off quickly!
Hope the storm will end!
Pencil Sharpener
by Joseph Reichelt
My pencil sharpener
has buzzing bees.
Going around and around
’til my pencil is sharp.
At night they go
to sleep.
At morning they’re ready
to go around.
Keep
going
going
going
around!
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Stuck
by Felix Tower
My thoughts are stuck
they are glued
they are wriggling in my head
I want to shout
Thinking dots
and fish and
food
waving like a cat’s tail
flicking like a fish
Now they are drained
but it’s the clock’s turn to dream
so they snack
on some nails
Now they sit around and
My view gets hazy so I order them
back to work
but they churn like a current and
make me overload
I clench my teeth
and open my mouth
to scream
But my thoughts zoom into place
afraid of an outburst
Smiling, I open the door
of their domain
they quietly, slowly, file out
and go to play
Imps twist
they churn like pudding
and morph into black elephants
now they disintegrate
and yowl like a cat on a fence
and buzz like a chainsaw
and morph into a chainsaw and
try to attack me
but my thoughts burst out of my head
and create a shimmering, gleaming shield
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of pure magic and thoughts of the night
the imps howl and squirm like a newborn animal
and shriek like a banshee watching a horror movie
they puff into clouds of purple smoke and green mist
and fly away
now the imps are utter nothingness
The Frog
by Ione Dalton
This frog is odd
He has me hopping
From branch to branch
“Flip the pages,”
He seems to whisper,
So I do, and what I find
Is a wonderful world.
Earth
by Sam Rivera
The Earth is like a blue jay
The Earth is like a tree
The Earth is beautiful,
More beautiful than you can see.
The Earth is like music,
Playing in my ears.
The Earth is courageous,
Crushing all my fears.
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Poetry with Virginia Crawford
The Waterfall
by Mrs. Walker’s morning class
In the rainforest
a chirp, a chirp, a tweet, a tweet
pick peck pecking birds
wings waving whooshing
flapping toward the wonderful waterfall
whoosh and whoosh
splat and splatter
splish splash spray
watch the magical majestic waterfall.
The Waterfall
by Mrs. Walker’s afternoon class
In the rainforest
a low-pitched creepy croaking
the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of the swaying trees
Rumble, gush, and swish
Wonderful warblish waterfall
Clickey clackety drops
Water spout and sprayed
Swishing swashing swoosh
Splattering waterfall
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Forest
by Trinity Whyte
Wish whoosh!
As the wind blows
Animals sleep
With not one peep
Boom boom!
The thunder goes
Plop plop
Goes one little drop
Puddles of piddle
Is what the rain does
Trees glide and glide
To the side as the wind blows
The Twister
by Anna Martin, Chris Moore, Violet Pilla, Erika Williams
A bang, a bang! A twistity tong!
A wishity, washity, whoomity wong!
A hoo, a woo, a hooidy, too!
A boom, a boom, a struck in the doom!
A slash, a crash, a wishity wash!
A yank, a tank, a boom with the bank!
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Days of May and the Bay
by Anabel Saba
Click, clackety, clack.
The hooves of a bay horse
Running through the days of May.
Fierce and powerful are her wonderful days in beautiful May.
Nickety, nack of her powerful neigh,
Across the great redwood trees in peaceful California.
Spit, spat, lick. The fresh drink of the misty waterfall.
The click, clackety, clack has begun again
Through the tall redwood trees and light green ferns.
Wish, wash, sway. The wind goes faster
And so does the frisky bay.
It’s time to rest and stop,
But soon she will be on her way
In the days of May.
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FOURTH GRADE
Poetry with William Sullivan
Dear Caroline,
I’m sorry that
I put cockroaches in
your shoes.
I was just
so tempted
to have a
little fun.
And to see
the look on
your face as they
crunch beneath your feet.
by Theo Halligan
The Chicken Sandwich
by Zach Aldouby
Ah, I’m sorry
you tasty
chicken sandwich.
You once saw
the world like
paradise.
Until the butcher
came along. You
were greased, fried,
and broken up.
Though you were
pained and killed,
you still look
tasty to me.
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This Is Just To Say...
by Grace Pula
I am sorry
that I
made you
mad today
I was calm
when you
tried to hurt
my feelings
You tried to
make me
upset but
you failed
I regret
it now
but it
was fun
to win
I promise, maybe,
that I will
not do it
again
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This Is Just To Say...
by Sophie Regales
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry
about your best dress
I suppose
we should let Kitty Purry
do what she does best
Yes I watched her claws
rip through it
Yes I let her do it
But her eyes
were so pleading
and so misleading
As her teeth
ripped through the collar
I ate a cookie
At least there
was no accident
on your ruined dress
Grandma will help
she’ll patch it
But still Mom
I’m so sorry
that I watched
with a book
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FIFTH GRADE
Songwriting with Bob Friedman
The British gave us lots
Of big, outrageous taxes,
When we got unhappy
We came back with axes,
We resisted their big march
On our town of Lexington,
We are the great, big, proud
Colonial Minutemen.
Our leader is great Washington,
Onwards he willed.
Their only great guy’s Braddock,
Who, you know, got killed.
We have lots more smarts,
They just have more men.
We are the great, big, proud,
Colonial Minutemen.
When we were all at Yorktown,
We really kicked their butts.
Cornwallis then surrendered,
Those dirty, mangy mutts.
We are now all free,
Free once again.
We are the great, big, proud,
Colonial Minutemen.
by Samuel Harkness
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The Mad King Who was Crazed
by EJ Belleza, Justin Scott, Malika Williams, Elizabeth
Zheleznyakova
The massacre of Boston
Showed their unjust ways
And only made us patriots
More against the craze
That continued through the years to come
Getting us to pay
The taxes that were forced on us
By the mad king who was crazed
The British keep on taxing
To pay debt from the war
Even though we fought for them
They keep on taxing more
So when they marched to Lexington
We shot them in the head
We went boom, boom, bang, bang
And most of them fell dead
We marched to Ticonderoga
In the middle of the night
Snuck in while they were sleeping
And didn’t need to fight
We went boom, boom, bang, bang
And everything went right
by Tommy Waldo
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The rich and spoiled British
They always get their way
They should be in the dungeon
Let’s arrest them today
With guns and rifles loaded
We’ll bring the British down
The king will finally be forced
To give up his crown
by Chelsea Cole, India
Driscoll, Hadley Saba
Well, old King George
He was ticked off
When his men lost the battle.
He slapped them once,
He slapped them twice,
And gave their heads a rattle.
“You guys are such nincompoops!
This was a bad idea!
I should find some new recruits
And move to Columbia!”
by Edwin Hartlove, Jason Hines,
Lauryn Jackson, Imogen Kone,
Kennedy Sims
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SIXTH GRADE
Short Story Slam with Stephanie Shapiro
One day I was walking down the street and something
caught my eye. It was a big hole in the road. “Where did it
come from?” I thought. People were standing around it like
statues.
I was weird, so my first instinct was to go closer, and then
I saw it was a puppy that had gotten stuck down there. I felt
so sad, but about an hour later they got him out. He was
messy, but safe. I was so glad that he didn’t get hurt, and so
was his owner.
Everyone was cheering and had smiles on their faces.
That was a friendly moment. It looks like many people do
care about each other after all.
by Na-Jee Armstrong
I’ll never forget the moment when I saw my cat dead in
the street. I was walking to the bus stop with my father and
my sister, and I saw my cat lying in the street. Blood was
coming out of his mouth, his fur was dingy, and I could tell it
was him because of his collar.
I didn’t realize that my cat had actually gotten hit until a
few minutes later. I didn’t even say good-bye. I said, “Stupid
cat,” and now he was dead. I always said that he would get
hit, and it actually became a reality.
After school that day, my father buried him, my sister and
I standing on the sidewalk crying. He was gone, and there
was nothing I could do. I didn’t even tell him I loved him or
pet him or hug him.
He was like a little brother to me, even though he was a
cat. He was my best friend and will always be in my heart.
by Justis McKeever
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The Green Stone
by Yesenia Garcia
I’ll never forget the moment when I was walking down
the street. There was a pile of garbage, and it stank like raw
cheese and spoiled milk. Something sparked in my brain, so
I put on my gloves from my backpack.
I tossed the bags around and found a green stone. I
picked it up and pixie dust flew over me. I was flying – what
a surprise! I had just found a magical green stone.
I ran home, took off the gloves, and washed my hands
and the rock. When I was in my room, I found a brown lace.
I hooked it to the stone, and now I have a necklace with a
green stone on it.
Writing Fairy Tales with Barbara Morrison
Once upon a time, there lived a little girl named Kisa,
who was seven years old. She lived in a very small place
called Vermont and was an ice skater. She loved to skate!
Sometimes she would daydream about being in the
Olympics.
But something was stopping her: global warming.
People used their air conditioners so much that it was
melting the ice in the Arctic. So the president ordered all ice
rinks to shut down until the problem was solved.
Kisa wasn’t happy. She didn’t want to stop ice skating,
but she didn’t want global warming either. So she came up
with a plan: she wrote to the president and said, “What if
there were one huge rink in Vermont? Then all Olympic
skaters could practice there.” Kisa also mentioned her dream
of becoming an ice skater.
When the president wrote back, Kisa couldn’t believe it!
He agreed with her idea and even said that she could go into
the Olympics. Kisa was so happy.
Once the big rink was built, Vermont had a surprise for
her: the rink was called Kisa’s Ice World. Her face lit up
with happiness. The world’s only rink was named after her!
Kisa got filthy rich and did really well in her skating
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programs. She even won the Olympics. She made so many
friends at her rink, too. Every time she went to the rink, she’d
tie up her long, red hair, put on her skating uniform and
skates, and then head for the ice. Little boys and girls loved
watching her do spins and jumps.
Then one day, Kisa married a loving, charming man
named Carl. He worked at Gyla’s Bakery. They had three
children and lived happily.
by Sarah Moser
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Camryn
Solomon, and she wanted to become a baker then she grew
up. She was 12 years old and lived in Maryland.
When Camryn was a little girl, she loved baking with her
family. She also loved watching the show Cupcake Wars,
which was about people competing to make the best
cupcakes.
Camryn dreamed so much about being a baker that she
had it all planned out: Name: Cammie’s Cakes; Location:
Canada; Colors: pink and white, etc.
But 10 years later, things didn’t go as well as she had
hoped. Her mother died of cancer and her father died of lung
disease. Camryn was alone in Canada trying to open up her
bakery. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any money to keep her
business running, so she had to shut it down. She had to move
back to Maryland with her grandmother and grandfather in a
tiny brick house.
But three years later, luckily Camryn got a job being a
nurse at a hospital 15 minutes away from her grandparents’
house. By the next month, she could afford her own
apartment!
by Camryn Solomon
Once upon a time, there was a boy named Bob, and he
asked his parents to go swimming. They said, “NO! You
don’t know how to swim,” even though he really did.
So he made a plan. He did chores for his parents for the
rest of the day. Then in the morning, after they had had a
good night’s sleep, he begged and begged and begged them,
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but they said, “NO! You can’t swim.” Bob was very sad and
angry at his parents.
One day, his parents were going away for two days, so
Bob had to stay with his really nice, fun grandma. When he
got to her house, he asked if he could go swimming. She
said, “Sure!”
So they packed snacks and went to the pool. Bob’s
grandma watched him swim. When he got out, his grandma
exclaimed, “You’re a really good swimmer!” He also went
swimming again the next day.
When his parents got back, his grandma told them, “He
is such a good swimmer!” Then Bob’s parents let him go
swimming a lot. Bob lived happily ever after.
by Bret Lunder
Poetry with Anne Heuisler
HAIKU
End
Blue sky falling down
Screams lead through for silent fears
Soon to live through fire
by Azeem Lyons
Food
Food, food. Oh, it’s good
Apples, carrots, looking great
Oh no. I feel full
by Tom Hornbeck
Brokenhearted soul
Relinquishes its body
For its perfect host
by Robert Henry
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Flying through the air
Big stick stuck in my wheel spoke
Crashing to the ground
by Luka Stefanovic
Today is special
Because it is my birthday
I am eleven
by Alex Lee
CINQUAIN
Summer
Warm, happy, free
Seeming so lengthy and
Yet ending so quickly
Summer
by Vivian Borbash
Blue sky
White clouds below
Arms spread wider than life
Falling fast towards the ground
Falling
by Atticus Cameron
Super Bowl
Playing football
Biggest game in career
Started months ago with a loss
The ring
by Elijah Dukes
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Property
Who could deny
Their items that they love
What worry if lost, found, stolen
In spite
by Maya Fortune
A light
At the end of
A dark tunnel pathway
Blinding, far too bright to bear the
Vision.
by Sasha Orner
After
I went to save
The young minds that are
Slowly dying of the thirst for
Reading
by Jordan Jenkins
Beast
Leering in its
Raptor idiffity*
Unafraid to eat all in sight
Beastly
(*word I created, meaning awful, disgusting, horrifying)
by Emma Kinsey
Scared
Very frightened
The sky is darkening
Storm clouds flying across the skies
Terror
by Valerija Prohorenkova
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Bedtime
I’m tired
Cannot stay awake
The sun has faded away now
My sheets call my name in whispers
Goodnight
by Mikell Myers
Blizzard
Freezing, so cold
I run to find shelter
Running from weather can be hard
A house!
by Eli Nass
Danger
I’m in danger
In danger of a stranger
The stranger is chasing me through the wood
I’m falling over a branch falling to my death
Danger
by Nick Good
DIAMANTE
Ceiling
Clean, white
Cleansing, blinding, staring
Lights, air conditioner . . . desks, chairs
Walking, sitting, standing
Dirty, dusty
Floor
by Piper Bond
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Light
Bright, sunny
Seeing, shining, glittering
Day, star . . . Fear, Night
Lurking, shadowing, creeping
Silent, gloomy
Dark
by Rachel Stosur
Cat
Smart, wise
Purring, sleeping, hunting
Claws, whiskers . . . snout, tail
Sitting, barking, licking
Fun, happy
Dog
by Liam Chambers
Books
Interesting, fun
Reading, laughing, crying
Pages, spine . . . cables, screens
Watching, addicting, sitting
Lazy, boring
TV
by Phoebe Parker
Road
Hot, loud
Driving, moving, listening
Cars, bikes . . . back packs, walking sticks
Walking, biking, hiking
Quiet, happy
Trail
by Jack Fischel
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Keeper
Alone, desperate
Running, thrashing, kicking
Hoarder, man . . . aide, assistant
Sitting, thinking, waiting
Alone, enlightened
Giver
by Duncan Parke
Fire
Hungry, scorches
Blistering, blazing, spitting
Embers, sparks . . . waves, salt
Renewing, swirling, crashing
Foamy, bubbly
Ocean
by Claire Wayner
Legs
Ground, floor
Running, walking, skipping
Jump, race . . . air, unicorns
Soaring, flying, winning
Birds, bugs
Wings
by Jaylin Roundtree
Bully
Mean, insulting
Teasing, harassing, taunting
Name-calling, suckers . . . smart, smiling
Playing, laughing, joking
Kind, supportive
Friend
by Hailey Miciche
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Basketball
Skillful, creative
Shooting, dribbling, stealing
Basket, ball . . . couch, chair
Watching, living, dreaming
Bored, lazy
Dormant
by Tyrin Gray
LIMERICK
There once was a play that was long,
Full of music and song.
The lights looked like moons
Which attracted raccoons
Which made actors say their lines wrong.
by Sophia Hager
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SEVENTH GRADE
Writing About Place
with
Maiju Lehmijoki-Gardner
Historic Jonestown
by Mikayla Woodyear
I got to Historic Jonestown by bike. Historic Jonestown
makes me feel relieved and happy to see that it is clean and
beautiful. It makes me feel strong health wise because of all
the nice colors of leaves on the strong tree branches.
On a nice, sunny day like that, I was glad I rode my bike
down to Historic Jonestown. The wind was blowing, making
a cool breeze on a hot, sunny day.
This picture gives me great hope because there is no
trash, there are pretty flowers and it has a national monument
that gives us a great back-story for history.
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Sherwood Gardens
by Jayla Jackson
I got here by driving my Lincoln SUV. This
neighborhood makes me feel at home because I love nature,
trees, life, grass and flowers. It makes me feel more green,
which means that I might need more natural and earthy
things in my life.
This picture makes me think about the healthy choices I
could have made on the day that I visited. Instead of driving
my car, I could have taken my bike or even walked my dog
there.
This part of town looks fresh, and everything looks free.
This neighborhood makes me feel in touch with my inner
self.
But at the same time, this neighborhood makes me feel
uncomfortable, too, because I know no one here. I have an
outsider feel.
What brings me hope in the picture most of all is the
clean environment. This lets me know that the people that
live here take care of their neighborhood, and they care
about the way they live. Also, the naturalness of this
neighborhood lets me know that these people don’t believe
in artificial or fake or unreal products.
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Jonestown
by Khadijah Butler
I was walking to clear my thoughts. I took a few turns to
the right, then another turn to the left. I got to the corner store
with blue around the door.
When I got out with an Arizona iced tea and Skittles, I
looked up and saw the sign Jonestown. I felt like I was about
to pass out because I was far away from home. Then again, I
was okay because I had my phone, but it was about to die.
That meant I had barely enough juice for one call. So I
thought I should just hang around here to see what it was like.
I had about $20, so I could find my way home before I
worried my mother half to death.
I saw a man beside the building looking for some spare
change on the sidewalk. Believe it or not, this is one of the
luckiest places to live. The people may look mean and
heartless, but there are people who see what others need.
I watched over a dozen people ignore the man, but then a
group of men that looked mean stopped to talk to him. They
gave him a few bucks and the things he needed the most: help
and attention. I thought, “This place is like a big home with
people who care. This neighborhood isn’t so bad to live in.” I
learned that you have to make the best out of what you’ve
got.
33
Greenmount
by Mia Campbell
I walked to this place from my grandma’s house because
she lives down the hill from the mural. I could have also
caught the 8, 48 or the 12 bus.
When I look at this mural, I am happy because it’s a
little piece of me and where I grew up. The mural reminds
me of my grandma because she took me to see the mural in
the process of being made.
This mural brings hope to me because it has a message:
work together because everybody has a place in this
neighborhood.
34
Slam Poetry
with
Jamaal “Black Root” Collier
It’s Keyon Mays, listen now
Cuz dis right here is how it’s going down
I’m da king of the jungle, but I don’t need a crown
Cuz I know how to turn it out
I’m blessed. Never no, but to life YES
I AM the best. Here I stand, mic in hand
Life is grand. In case you didn’t know
Keyon Mayes is who I am
100 mph is the speed rate
Wanna-be’s try to use my rhymes as bait
Money, power, fame. Bill Gates
by Keyon Mays
Axiom
by Quinn Kolper
Black Root comin’ to say Ago...Amay......
Hold up. Let’s try it again.
I said Ago? AMAY
Now there you go...
I’m a spit some rhymes
So go with the flow,
Wait –
Respect the mic.
Now it’s YOUR turn,
Turn them tables
Spit your rhyme.
35
My Girl
by Travis Jones
You are beautiful
You are my life
So many things that
Make you nice
Sweet things
Sweet things
That’s what you are
We argue over and over
Don’t leave
You make me lonely
Let’s have fun
Don’t run
Never run away
We should stay together forever
36
Monologues with Joan Weber
Farmer
by Sophie Cargnel
I have nothing. Nothing but my family and my small
town! Half of my family has been injured in industrial
accidents, which means that they can’t work in the fields with
me. I am alone. The only thing I can do is work to keep my
family going.
The government is ignoring my brothers’ and sisters’ well
being even though they were hurt in government factories! It
is now up to me and my old parents, who can still work. But
after this drought, there might not be any crops this year. We
are going to starve, and it’s all because of the government.
Businessman
by Kory Sanders
I have to get this deal! I just have to! My father will never
approve of me, if not. He’s always wanted me to be
successful, even if he did push me too far.
Truth be told, I never wanted to take over the company. I
wanted to go to America and live with high school friends in
a one-room apartment. Live what they call “The American
Dream.”
Staying here in China was never really part of my plan. I
guess now that I am in the business and rising through the
ranks quickly, it is alright that I have had to let go of my
dream.
Father did not want me to start right at the top, so he put
me in the middle. It is terrifying, even in the middle. The
responsibility is too great.
Taking orders isn’t much fun either. I also have to do
things that sometimes I just don’t agree with. I have been told
37
to make farmers leave their land – their own homes – only
because a new building has to be put there! Even though I
don’t enjoy evicting people, I see how it helps the company.
I am making more money now than ever before! At this
rate, I will take over as CEO of the company by the end of
this year. That is why I need to make this deal – I have to!
Peasant
by Sarah Handley
There are only a few things that I really care about:
family, friends, and my farm. That’s why I don’t understand
why they want my farm. They know that I won’t give it up.
Besides, it’s small, and it’s not near anything. If
Nowhere were in China, this would be it. No one would
want to go miles away from home just for some groceries. It
just doesn’t work that way.
This guy wants to take everything I have for, “…a better
life with lots of money.” I’m not going to do it. No. I won’t
do it. I’m happy with my life, my family is happy with
theirs, and no one will change this. The answer is no, and it’s
going to stay that way.
Wealthy Man
by Danaysia Davis
My name is Jian Lee. You might know me as the richest
man in China, the guy with no heart, or, my favorite, as the
guy who thinks he’s so much better than you because he’s
rich.
Well, I’m here today to tell you all that this is not the
case. I’ve decided to tell you my story and how I got where I
am today. But I realize that by just saying “this is not the
case” isn’t going to change your perception of me, is it? No?
I didn’t think so, so here goes nothing….
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My family and I worked as terrace farmers in the foot
hills of Kwangsi. Every day was a struggle for our family; we
lived off what we grew ourselves. Farming was hard, and it
took so much out of me every day. I felt exhausted after
working in the fields to the point where I couldn’t do
anything else that day. It was so hard on me that I just
couldn’t do it anymore.
Farm life wasn’t for me, so I decided that I would move
to the city to search for a job and get my education. I found
my first job at a factory in Beijing. I ended up making enough
money to find an apartment, send money back home to my
family, and put myself through school. I was working 16
hours a day, every day, barely getting enough sleep. I didn’t
have time to write to my family, but I thought that sending
them money was enough. It wasn’t enough for them, so I just
stopped writing altogether.
Around the time I stopped writing, I got promoted to
CEO of the company, and overnight everything changed. I
had a car to drive me to work and a house to go home to after
work. I loved every moment of my life since that day.
About a year had passed since I last spoke to my family,
and I really missed them. I thought that because I hadn’t been
around or been writing to them that they wouldn’t want to
speak to me anymore. I knew that being “busy” wouldn’t cut
it with them. So I decided to visit them, and to my surprise,
they were really happy to see me. My family still loved me
like always, and I loved them.
So for all of you who think I am a worthless, heartless
fool, I hope I explained to you that I am not. I have feelings,
and I’m sorry for hurting you all like I did.
39
EIGHTH GRADE
Five Senses Writing
with
Warren Elgort and Nathan Risinger
Past
by Bryonna Reed
Time passes
Memories fade
Friends go too.
Into the blackness
Hope they remember me
I’ll see them one day
Maybe...
I hope they understand
I love them more now
Can’t forget
My future means I have to
Look back at past my past
People die
But we still live
In the same society
They left
Will we ever change?
Short Story
by Mackenzie Thomas
“Again,” Madison said. She was in the king’s fighting
room; an odd place for a lady to be. The walls were lined
with all sorts of weapons and practice dummies. There were
arrows, an assortment of bows, spears, swords, axes, and
other wickedly pointed daggers. The floors were covered in
thick carpeting, meant to cushion the blow of the fighters’
falls. This did no good to Ror, for Madison possessed
40
wicked strength and skill. Ror was not to be out matched; he
was twice as fast as Madison, and clever. It was a battle
between strength, and wits.
Ror stood from the ground, dusting off his tunic and
trousers. “Lord, Maddie, when will you learn these floors are
quite solid?” he chuckled. Madison blushed, and promised
herself she’d be more careful next time she had to throw him
down.
“Again,” she repeated. She had to get this next move
down; it could be her difference between life and death. Ror
would twist both her arms up behind her back, making any
movement excruciating. Her job was to find a way out of it.
The pain was durable, as long as she moved fast enough, but
it was disabling Ror which really stumped her. He
outweighed her by at least 30 pounds and was taller by about
four inches. She could toss him over her shoulder and flip him
on the ground as she had done before, but if this were real
combat, that wouldn’t disable her opponent.
Ror tried a different approach this time – he ran at her,
feinted left, and spun around her right side to grab her wrists
and twist her arms behind her. Luckily, Maddie had
anticipated something like this (in her mind, men always went
for the obvious approach). She countered him and swung up
with a wicked right hook, whipping his head back, giving her
enough time to twist from his grasp, and punch him several
times just below his kidney. She quickly backed away from
under his arms and crouched low to get ready to go on the
offensive.
He stood and turned to her, menace in his eyes. He came
at her, fists flying, aiming for all her soft spots: her belly, her
sides, her jaw, and her solar plexus. She blocked most of his
punches, but of course he got in a few jabs that knocked the
wind out of her.
She suddenly grabbed his left arm and yanked back and
up. He gasped out in pain, trying to pull free, but ultimately
making it worse. He reached back with his right arm, trying to
hit her, but she did the same to his other arm. She used her
legs to kick his out from underneath of him, and he went
down with a dull thud.
She stretched, and rubbed a sore spot over her shoulder
where she was sure to have a nasty bruise. Her maid would be
furious that she didn’t have a dress to cover it for those awful
41
evenings when she was required to dine with the king and
his guests. She hated those dinners, the dresses, the
painful shoes, the bragging and arrogant lords who loved to
boast about how impressive they thought their estates to be.
Don’t forget the ladies who gave her all the envious looks
and sneers, who talked about her behind hands and fans.
She sighed, and gave Ror a hand up. “Again,” she
instructed, and their dance resumed once more.
Swimming Is
by Alex Mitias
Swimming is not a game
There are no subs
There are no time-outs
Just you and that one race
Swimming is not a group effort
There is no one else on the block
There is no one else in the lane
No one else but you
Swimming is
A hobby to some
Just a sport to others
But to me,
Swimming is my life
42
Character-Based Writing
with
Justin Kramon
Super Poncho
by Nick Imparato and Laura Seaburg
Super Poncho stood at the bus stop. He couldn’t stop
glancing at the sketchy-looking man sitting on the bench. To
any normal person, this man would look harmless, but Super
Poncho knew better. This man was out to get Super Poncho.
He had on a green shirt.
Emilia, or Milli, groaned as she hugged the baskets of
gefilte fish down the street toward her local JCC. With a start,
she spied the man in the red poncho, stalking the man
outfitted totally in green. She dropped the smelly fish.
“Super Poncho! Oy vey! Is that you?”
“Milli! It’s so good to – I see you have returned...” said
Super Poncho in a very villainous way.
“You don’t need to put on your super villain act for me!
We had good times together!” cried Milli. “What’s happened
to you?”
“I moved on; I’m a super villain now. I admit we were an
amazing super hero pair, but after my transformation, you
gave up on me.”
“Stop kidding, Poncho. Have some pity on the old, poor
woman schlepping dead fish.”
“I assure you this is no joke. Watch me attack this man in
a green shirt!”
He promptly pummeled the bystander, eliciting a few
screams from onlookers.
“So this is what happened to you! I thought it couldn’t get
any worse after you attacked me,” lamented Milli.
“Well, it did. So sorry for you! Now, I present you with a
choice: either you will leave and never speak of me to
anyone, or I will convince you to never speak of this.”
“And how do you think you’re going to do that?” asked
Milli.
43
“The leaves on your shirt are green...” Poncho
shuddered. “I hate green.”
“You haven’t heard the last of me, Poncho,” said Milli,
gathering her bags. “I will return and make you good again.”
Poncho just laughed a deep, evil laugh that rang in
everyone’s ears and echoed through the city street. Civilians
ran in terror. This was just the beginning of the reign
of...Super Poncho!
44
MY WORD! 2012 WRITERS’
BIOGRAPHIES
Emily Aubrey published her first newspaper at age 9. It had a
circulation of 3 and sold for a nickel an issue. Since then she
has written veterinary client education materials, curriculum
for a veterinary technician class and a childbirth education
class, and done freelance work for Yahoo! Her work has
appeared in the Urbanite, the Bulletin and the Chicago
Reader, and she recently participated in a Writing Life panel
at Swarthmore College. She has a veterinary degree from the
University of Illinois and is currently at work on a Master’s in
Public Health. Three of her favorite authors are Jane Austen,
Neil Gaiman, and Nevada Barr. Dr. Aubrey has three children
at RPEMS: Andrew (7th grade), Christopher (5th grade) and
Matthew (1st grade).
Alan Britt teaches English at Towson University. His recent
books of poetry are Alone with the Terrible Universe (2011),
Greatest Hits (2010), Hurricane (2010), Vegetable Love
(2009), Vermilion (2006), and Infinite Days (2003). Alan
occasionally publishes the international literary journal, Black
Moon, from Reisterstown, Maryland, where he lives with his
wife, daughter, two Bouviers des Flandres, one Bichon Frisé
and two formerly feral cats.
Jamaal “Black Root” Collier’s engaging personality and
activities encourage students to learn, listen and participate.
He says, “I really like to hear where people are coming from.
As opposed to knocking down their arguments, I like to see
how they can support them. With kids, and some adults that
don’t articulate well, supporting the why about stuff helps you
and the person you are conversing with get a better
understanding of your viewpoint. This transcends speaking on
music.” Black Root makes a point to focus on critical analysis
of music they listen to on a daily basis while exposing them
to, and sometimes reintroducing, more positive themes and
topics.
45
Virginia Crawford, Poet in Residence with the Maryland
State Arts Council, teaches through the Artists-in-Education
program. Her book, Touch, (March 2011, Finishing Line
Press) was featured on WYPR’s Maryland Morning. A
graduate of Emerson College, Boston, and the University of
St. Andrews, Scotland, Ms. Crawford is co-editor of Poetry
Baltimore, poems about a city and an anthology of student
poetry, Voices Fly, with Laura Shovan, which will appear in
2012 from CityLit Press.
Elisabeth Dahl’s first book, a novel for children entitled
Genie Wishes, will be published by Abrams Books in 2013,
and she has just completed her second book, a novel for
adults entitled Brood. Her writing has appeared at NPR.org,
at TheRumpus.net, and in Urbanite. A Baltimore native,
Elisabeth returned to the city in 2003, after a decade in
Berkeley and DC. Her mother is a Roland Park
Elementary/Middle School graduate who recently celebrated
her 60th reunion.
With over 30 years of experience as a professional musician
in a variety of bands (Mambo Combo and others) and a
history of involvement in American folk and blues music
dating back to the Hootenanny days of the early 1960s,
Robert Friedman is uniquely qualified to bring a living
appreciation of musical history to My Word! From 1980 to
2003, he built and operated a recording studio in Baltimore
City. More recently he has been running the Folk and Blues
Club at Roland Park Elementary/Middle School and also
works for the school system as a substitute teacher. His
children at RPEMS are Rob (8th grade), Julianne (6th grade)
and Sarah (2nd grade).
Thomas Grizzard is a writer, editor, information designer
and storyteller. For more than 30 years he has helped
professionals and students of all ages make their words say
what they mean. His clients include national and
international institutions across many different disciplines.
46
Anne Haddad is a journalist whose career includes 16 years
as a reporter for the Baltimore Sun and other newspapers. She
now writes occasional features about film, food or education
for Urbanite magazine (Google “Anne Haddad Urbanite” to
see some of her articles), and is the publications editor for
University of Maryland Medical Center. She is also an
RPEMS mom; her son, Evan Hart, is in 8th grade.
Anne Heuisler is a native Marylander and a long-time
teacher of literature and writing. Mrs. Heuisler taught English
at Roland Park Country School in grades 7 through 12 and
now teaches Writing About Literature to freshmen and
sophomores at Stevenson University. She is interested in
journalism and advised the student newspaper, The Red and
White, at RPCS, for several years. Mrs. Heuisler loves to
read, averaging over 50 books a year, and also enjoys movies.
Mrs. Heuisler has three children and four grandchildren
(grades 2, 4, 6), all of whom love to read and write.
Karen Homann is a former attorney who is now a stay-athome parent. She has taught writing at American University,
Goucher College, and Morgan State University, and she
edited medical journals for five years. Karen is also the
former editor of the Goldenrod, the RPEMS newsletter.
Currently, she is a volunteer writer and editor in the
Communications Department of the ACLU of Maryland. She
has two children at RPEMS, Sammy Cure in 4th grade and
Peter Cure in 1st grade.
Justin Kramon is the author of the novel Finny (Random
House, 2010). A graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, he
has published stories in Glimmer Train, Story Quarterly,
Boulevard, Fence, TriQuarterly, and others. He has received
honors from the Michener-Copernicus Society of America,
Best American Short Stories, the Hawthornden International
Writers’ Fellowship, and the Bogliasco Foundation. He
teaches at Gotham Writers’ Workshop in New York City and
at the Iowa Young Writers’ Studio.
47
Maiju Lehmijoki-Gardner blogs about urban life, health, and
religions at Health and Faith in Baltimore
(www.healthfaithbaltimore.org). She is the co-founder and cochair of the RPEMS Wellness Committee. She is the mother of
Oliver, 7th grade, and Lukas, 6th grade, both at Roland Park.
Baltimore native and Roland Park Elementary School
alumna Barbara Morrison is the author of a memoir,
Innocent: Confessions of a Welfare Mother, and a poetry
collection, Here at Least. Her award-winning work has been
published in anthologies and magazines. She conducts
writing workshops and speaks on women’s and povertyrelated issues. Visit her website and blog at bmorrison.com.
Liz Pelton has worked in book publishing for nearly 20
years. She is currently senior publicist at Yale University
Press. She is also a professional dancer and has led classes
and workshops on the connections between writing and
dance. She is the mother of RPEMS 5th grader Jane Pelton.
John Rivera is the Director of Communications for Catholic
Relief Services (CRS), one of the world’s largest
humanitarian organizations fighting global poverty. Before
joining CRS in February 2005, he worked for 14 years as a
reporter and editor for the Baltimore Sun, where he served as
a suburban bureau chief, a rewrite man, and covered the
religion beat, specializing in explanatory stories on religious
and theological trends and covering stories in the Vatican,
Cuba, Israel and Jordan.
Prior to entering the journalism field, he was a member of
the Order of Carmelites, a Roman Catholic religious order,
serving in North Hollywood, Calif.; Middletown, NY;
Chicago, IL; El Salvador; and Washington, DC. He also
taught classes in journalism and religious studies at Mount
Carmel High School in Chicago, IL, and St. John’s College
High School in Washington, DC. He holds an MA in
theology from the Washington Theological Union in
48
Washington, DC and a BA in journalism from California
State University, Northridge, with coursework for a minor in
Asian Studies completed at Waseda University in Tokyo,
Japan. He is a native of Los Angeles and is married with two
children, Leah, 10, and Sam, 8, both students at Roland Park
Elementary School.
Stephanie Shapiro is the mother of two sons who graduated
from Roland Park Elementary/Middle School. She left the
Baltimore Sun in 2008 after 23 years as a feature reporter.
Now a writer for Johns Hopkins Medicine, Shapiro teaches
journalism at Loyola University Maryland and occasionally
free-lances for a variety of publications. She loves life in
Tuxedo Park!
Kate Shatzkin is Director of Marketing and Communications
for the National Summer Learning Association, a national
nonprofit organization dedicated to equipping schools,
providers, communities, and families to deliver high-quality
summer learning opportunities to our nation’s youth to help
close the achievement gap and support healthy development.
Shatzkin joined the Association in 2010 after more than two
decades as a writer and editor at major newspapers, including
16 years at the Baltimore Sun, where she covered subjects
from courts and prisons to food and parenting. Shatzkin holds
a BA in English from Haverford College and a Master of
Studies in Law from Yale Law School. She is a native of
Kansas City, MO, and is married with two children at Roland
Park Elementary School: Leah Rivera, 10, and Sam Rivera, 8.
Born in Baltimore, Maryland, Wm. J. A. Sullivan was
educated at The Johns Hopkins University where he studied
engineering, psychology and literature. From 1954 to 1970 he
was employed by The Johns Hopkins University Department
of Medicine and his work there was cited in numerous
scientific journals, and he co-authored two scientific papers.
Concurrently, he pursued his interest in literature at the Johns
Hopkins Writing Seminars under Elliott Coleman, receiving
an M.A. degree in poetry and fiction in 1973.
49
Since 1975, he has participated in the Maryland Poets-in-theSchools Program and taught poetry in elementary and
secondary schools as well as in community centers and in
special workshops for senior citizens and nursing home
residents. His poems, short stories and articles have appeared
in several literary journals, anthologies and magazines. He
lives in Baltimore with his dog and cat and a personal library
of over ten thousand volumes, of which some ten percent are
books of poetry.
Joan Weber has spent the past 20 years working in arts
education and education at places such as the Baltimore
Shakespeare Festival, Howard Community College, Towson
University’s Arts Integration Institute and Arts Every Day.
As the first executive director of Arts Every Day, Joan
defined the group’s mission to have every school in
Baltimore City be required to show support for the arts by
working with arts and cultural organizations, as well as to
offer sequential arts instruction in the building. She was
instrumental in Roland Park Elementary/Middle School’s
being named John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing
Arts National Schools of Distinction in Arts Education
Award during her tenure at Arts Every Day.
Currently, Joan is responsible for the education division at
Creativity & Associates, which is the culmination of her path
in arts education and reflects her philosophy that students
enjoy learning and remember more when they use theater as
part of the learning process.
Longtime NPR commentator Marion Winik is the author of
eight books of creative nonfiction and poetry: The Glen Rock
Book Of The Dead, and First Comes Love, among others.
Winik’s work has been published in The New York Times, O,
Newsday, Poets and Writers, and Real Simple. She writes a
bi-weekly column at BaltimoreFishbowl.com and teaches in
the MFA program at the University of Baltimore. Her
daughter Jane is a 6th grader at RPEMS. More information at
marionwinik.com.
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Olu Butterfly Woods is director of Poetry for the People
Baltimore and a veteran Artist-in-Residence with the
Baltimore Office of Promotion and the Arts and Baltimore
Talent Development. She represents a team of exciting
professional poets for the Maryland Humanities Council, with
programming particularly for 5th grade and up. Ms. Woods is
also a coach with the Baltimore Citywide Youth Poetry Team,
which has taken talented and dedicated poets from this city to
such places as Los Angeles and Philadelphia.
51