Hartford Memorial Middle School

My Grandma is always,
teaching me,
What I now know.
She taught me how to fish,
And about her.
She taught me,
All I know about computers.
If me and my mom had a fight,
She would usually take my side.
My grandfather,
Unfortunately I can’t say much about,
He died before I was born.
He broke his neck,
Diving into a lake.
My mom said that,
He would be very proud.

Grandma

By Steven Ladka
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

The smell of your house
The stuff you buy
The love you give me
These are some of the special importances inside you.

The way your voice calms me down
And makes me remember good times when I’m having bad times.
The stories you tell me remembering all the good and enjoyable times I have had in my life.

I don’t think I could have lived without you, Grandma!

Grandparents

By Emily Fariel
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I may have never known you
You never knew me.
Although
I am reminded of your life
Everywhere I look.
Your
Paintings,
Books.
All reminders of
You
Your remarkable life.
If only you had stayed
One more year.
At least I would have met you
You would have met me.
Or maybe even longer
Than that one year
And I could have learned
Just how you did it.
Maybe someday.

My Grandmother

By Amber Boyce
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

My grandmother sits, hair permed to perfection. She has gray hairs playing peek-a-boo in a mass of brunette dye.
My grandfather sits in his chair, his snow white hair tightly around his head. His glasses barely cling to his face as he leans over his paper.
Sentimental feelings wrapped in the splendor of romance can make time stand still.

My grandfather is who I am.
He made me myself and what I am.
I am the sensitive guy.
I am a strong guy physically.
I am the guy who knows how to run a chain saw.
I am the guy who knows how to drive a truck, a bulldozer, and a huge John Deere tractor.
I’m the guy who knows how to rebuild a motor in three days.
I am the guy who can shoot a squirrel from 100 yards away with no scope.
I am the guy who is my grandfather.

Grammy "M"

By Molly Mead
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I’d go to your house when I was little
And you would always give me those vanilla wafers.
The Red Sox would always be on the TV.
And sometimes you would be playing solitaire on your table
Listening to the game instead of watching it.
Your house smelled like cigarette smoke
But that didn’t bother me too much
It was just the best to be at your house.
When I was done with my vanilla wafer
I would run up your staircase
There were tons of rooms to play in
And each time was like a new adventure.
There was a bell that I would ring and
You’d yell up the stairs and tell me to stop.
And I would giggle and run into a new room
I’d be up there for what seemed like hours.
I miss those days, I miss you.

I will always remember
the cupcakes we made
that beautiful day on the beach
with the seagulls flying up above
and my gramma’s long braided hair.
I wish I didn’t have to remember
the cigarette smoke though.
I sure do miss her.

Grandfather

By Mindy Yeung
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

The nice warm smell lingers in the air.
Chairs and tables made of red wood sit silently on the cold marble floor.
Small breezes run lightly around the chair Grandfather used to rest in.
Now, his comfortable presence is gone
Along with the shine in his eyes.
His loud energetic laugh floats away
And all there is left
Is the warm smell of scented essence.

Grandma

Alicia Cerasoli
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I gaze out the shining bright window
Soft blue sky stares back.
I sit on her lap and listen.
I listen to her rich, love-filled voice.
She rocks me and sings me a song.
Time pauses around me
Nothing else matters.
The homey smell of
Fresh, warm, chewy cookies
Lingers through the air.
Grandpa sits still reading the paper
In the den.
She sings to me that a bumble bee
Will come and give me love and joy.
She cradles her soft, old hands
Around my body and hums.
I get a warm feeling in my heart and it spreads
Inside-
Out.

He’s gone. I can’t find him. “Gram? Anybody? Please tell me, why are you all crying and where’s grandpa?”
More tears. “Mom, tell me what’s wrong,” I say with more rage than expected.
More tears. Then I realize he’s gone, and he’s watching my fury and frustration. I’ve made him pity me. “No, it’s not fair. He can’t be gone. No! You’re wrong! I hate you!”
I can’t control myself any longer. “You’re wrong! Where is he?” Then I crash.
She says, “He’s gone."
“Mom, please, I love him. He can’t simply be gone.”
All I get as a reply is, “His wake is Thursday night at Knight's funeral home in Hartford.”
With a snap there’s no more happy girl. Now it’s sad wondering girl.
Missing: Grandpa. Can you help me?

Respect your elders. My mother used to always say to me. Well, I say I will respect them if they respect me. I mean honestly, all they ever do is yell at me or lecture me. Why should I be nice to someone like that?
Of course I love them, but sometimes I just want to trip their cane, watch them fall to the floor, then yell to them, “Respect your youngers!”
I know that’s mean, and I guess I don’t really think that, but I wish they’d give us a break sometimes. For Pete’s sake, they’ve already lived their old lives. Now it’s our turn.

My grandparents are not like ordinary grandparents. My grandparents are superheroes! But it’s a big secret! Don’t tell anyone!
You would think that someone would have figured it out by now. But no. The other people at the nursing home seem to think that these two old people running around in tight costumes and leather masks are normal.
Some people, like the small old lady in the wheelchair, think that my grandparents are crazy. And just so that this crazy couple doesn’t feel left out and wonder why they are the only ones wearing these colorful clothes, they begin asking their oldest children to start dressing them in these super hero outfits, too.
Of course, then their kids don’t know what to think. Then, the kids just have to ask, “Mom? Dad? Are you guys feeling all right? Why super hero outfits, Mom? Don’t you think its kind of … weird?”
Then, the parents can only say, “Sorry, Kids! Just trying to fit in!”

I looked next to me. Old man with no hair and wrinkled features, huge thick rimmed glasses and no posture. I looked to the other side of me. Old woman with fiery red hair and long purple nails with too much glue on her fake eyelashes and bright blue eye shadow with red smudged lips. I looked all around me. I was surrounded by old people. I tried to run, but the door was locked. They wanted me to play bingo and drink prune juice. But I wouldn’t give in. I would not turn to the dark side!
“I DON’T WANT TO BE OLD!’ I screamed loud and clear. Then there was a thud. I opened my eyes. I saw my grandma rushing over to me. She held me close and tried to calm me down.
“You were just dreaming, honey!” Soon I felt better and fell asleep in her arms, going back to the world of old.

Tests

By Abby Chretien
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

Sometimes I wish
You were just testing me
That you really do like me
But you want to see if I’ll wait for you.
But it’s not a test.
I sure wish it was, though.
Because, honey,
I’d get an A.

Tests

By Ossia Dwyer
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 7

“OK, class. This test is meant to test your knowledge of the theories. I hope you studied!” says my perky yet highly annoying teacher. Does she really care if we do well or not?
I was hoping for a snow day or a fever or malaria. I would have studied really hard and even maybe paid attention in class but the hottest guy sits right in front of me. I spent all yesterday night talking to him online. How was I supposed to study? Does my teacher not know anything about teenagers? Maybe I will be able to just conjure it up. OK, 2x+72>3x-12, solve for x. Is faking a seizure too dramatic? I know. I will fake a headache, then wander around the building. Oh great, the teacher noticed I wasn’t working. She is walking over here. Concentrate.
“An emergency has been reported in this building!! Please cease operation and leave, utilizing the nearest exit or fire exit!!” came onto the speakers, blasting our eardrums out. I ran out of the room as fast as I could. Anything to get out of that test and try to study or sleep.