Brattleboro Area Middle School

If I could live in Vermont in ten years, I would. Vermont would still be quiet and beautiful. There are also all kinds of weather in Vermont. I have also lived here all my life. For reasons more than just these, Vermont is a place I would choose to live in for more than just my early years.

Vermont is a very special place to me and it always will be. Even though it is so small that it is unknown to some people, Vermont will probably end up being my favorite place in the world. Living in Vermont has affected me positively, and made me a totally different person than if I grew up in a city. I love Vermont and I always will.

Growing up in Vermont has affected my outlook on the world in many ways. One way is that I am used to small places. I will always be a small town girl at heart no matter where I end up in the future. In a small town, everyone knows each other, and that makes the town a more pleasant place to live. You always get a lot of smiles and waves when you walk down the street because everyone knows you. I would most likely stand out in a city because I don’t like the noise or the crowded streets. Vermont is the exact opposite of that, so it is the perfect place for me.

Winter. What do you think of when you hear the word winter? Maybe you think of skiing, or snowball fights, or even hot chocolate? Everybody’s idea of winter is different. For me, when I hear the word winter, I think of what everything looked like during the first winter after I moved here.

It was a normal October weekend. I was sitting in my family’s living room in front of the wood pellet stove trying to warm my cold feet up with the warmth from the fire. My family’s house was unusually quiet. I was looking into the mesmerizing flame of our wood pellet stove when my dad called out excitedly.

Friends

By Linnea Jahn
Brattleboro Area Middle School, Grade 8

“Girls we are going to go on a geocache,” Hank told us.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A geocache is where we all have a GPS and we try and find a treasure,” Halie explained.
“I’ll go by land and you two can canoe there,” Hank said.
“Alright girls I’ll meet you there.”
“Ok dad, see you there,” Halie said.
The GPS lead us into a marsh. The water was a weird brown color. It looked like an old beaver pond. There were a lot of sticks and marsh plants. It smelled really gross. Then the GPS told us we had to go on land. We had hit a grassy part that lead to land.
“I’ll jump out first Halie.”
“Ok!” She replied.
“Just run really fast over it so you don’t get your shoes wet,” Halie said.
“Yeah I will.”

There is more of the world to see other than Vermont. I do like Vermont, but I would like to explore the world around me. Vermont can just be so boring. Around where I live, there is nothing to do except go to the movies or go to some stores down town. Vermont is a good place to grow up in, but by the time you are older you want to see other places. That is why if I had a choice to live in Vermont in ten years, I would not.

“Amanda!” her father called. “Are you ready to go outside?”

“Almost Daddy!” she called from her bed room. She had been looking
forward to this for weeks.

As she dressed hurriedly into her snow suit,
she could hear her dog barking outside already playing in the snow. That
dog, that beautiful collie, went by the name of Lassie. Amanda had named
her only a while ago because of the obsession she had over the movie
Lassie. What a wonderful movie that was.

By the time she reached the door to the backyard, she looked ridiculous.
She was dressed in a very snug, pink, puffy snow suit, pink clonking boots,
and, of course, pink mittens. She must have looked cute at the age of
three, but this outfit was very annoying to her because it restricted her
ability to move like a normal person.

So she started to waddle through the thick powdery snow. Beginning to feel
like an obese penguin, she suddenly felt bad for those tubby penguins she

Soaring Down the Mountain

By Ursula Casey
Brattleboro Area Middle School, Grade 8

The gears slowly turn on the rusty wheels of the chair lift. It’s moving so slowly that it seems as if the old chair will never reach the top of the hill. I carefully get off, watching the tips of my skis. Although I’ve been getting on and off lifts for almost ten years, I’ll always be a klutz and I fall very often. There’s nothing to stop my clumsiness.

As I set off down the beginning of the slope I think about my first time coming up to the top of the mountain. I was only five or six, and it took a lot of guts for me to ski down from the very top. I start down the first part of the trail, which by now is a long swooping slope with big twists and turns. I speed through it with wide carving turns like a racer running a slalom course. Nothing can stop me now. I love turning like this. It’s fast and smooth, and sometimes the speed makes me feel like I’m flying.

I love the smell of cookies in the afternoon breeze
How it drifts through the windowpane
In the fading light of the afternoon
I love the wind rushing past my face
And the smells
Of the cooking moms and barbecuing dads
In the backyards as I rush past
I love the feeling of a new day
As we eat in silence
Or accompanied by a colorful conversation

The sky disappears
Everything around us turns green
As we step into the never ending field of corn
We look around, continue through the tall stalks
On our journey to our special hideout
Hidden in an island of trees
Surrounded by the sea of corn
The stalks grow thicker as we go deeper into the corn
The arching leaves sprouting from the tall green stalks form a tunnel
We kneel to continue
My companion crawls ahead
I crawl after her
She stops
Waits for me to go on

Sitting in the woods my first time, alone
Waiting to see that giant rack rise over the hilltop
Like the sun ascending over a mountain
Hearing the sounds of the morning birds
Calling to each other
Squirrels scampering through the dry leaves below me
Feeling the cold of the metal bow in my hand
Waiting for nothing.
The day is over.

Gunshots ring on the streets of Belfast.
Explosions leaving only ashes,
remnants of a hopeless community.
A woman falls to her knees, weeping.
Warm tears running down her cheek.

The smell of mutton fills an English house.
A woman tends to the steaming cauldron,
looks into the half-empty ice box
knowing it will not last the week.

They are different people from completely different backgrounds,
yet they are all
the voices of my heritage.

One school day in September
I see her.
Walking through the old, creaky door.
And a rush of excitement runs through my body.
The constant gossiping and giggling
from other “cliques’ has been washed out.
I’d much rather listen to the funny story she’s telling me.
I taste the tears,
running down my face,
from uncontrollable laughing.
My heart starts beating faster,
as I ask to feel her soft hair,
almost like silk.
Then I notice she has new clothes
like seeing a newborn baby.
And every once in a while,
I notice her scar
Right above her eye from a metal baseball bat.
Why do I notice it now?
Maybe it’s because she’s my best friend
That I’ll
NEVER
Forget.

I am from skating
Skating with my friends
While the wind is blowing against my face
Like a bird soaring through the deep blue sky
I am from skating
Kick-flipping, heel-flipping in the air
Landing them so cleanly
Like a plane landing.
I am from skating
Skating down hills
The wind blowing in my face
Like I am flying
Hoping that I don’t make a mistake
I am from skating
Skating outside
Practicing to defeat my next trick
Fresh air
Feels so good

While I yell out FREEDOM!

In measured beats
In strides
In bounds
She gallops
Under me
Hot running blood in a pulsing heart, a living heart
Each step is a vital pulse
The cold wind hits you in waves, like reality
But this
Clears your mind, opens your thoughts for all to hear
It seems this horse will never stop, life never stops
But
The beat must slow
And break
To stop into nothing
To never start again, or at least the same way

I am a searcher for things that are wild:
turkey, deer and bear
Trophies on the wall
Meals on the table
I am a person who cares about pets
Dogs and cats
Waiting patiently under the table
Still alive and well
I am waiting to get up bright and early
To go to the wild woods with my dog and cat
To enjoy the early morning sunshine.

I walk down the Old Lajes footpath
with the sea breeze on my face
and stones laid over three hundred years ago underfoot
a sense of tranquility whistles by
through fields and over stonewalls and rows of hydrangea bushes
a fishing boat hums by like an angry bee
and causes the seagulls to cackle softly

The waves compose a lamenting tone on the rocks
a cloud rolls in
a few drops of rain fall on me
the cows instantly lie down
I turn around, stop and listen

And for a few moments
just before the shower begins
there is no sound

And I feel at peace

Backpack slung over my shoulder
Crunch! Crunch! Go the leaves with each step.
Walking home
Alone.
A brisk autumn breeze stirs the leaves and ripples through the trees.
An empty road.
Nothing moving.
But me.
And the leaves.
A misty blast of breath appears from my mouth with every exhale.
Take a left.
I’d better hurry up.
Home is waiting.

I Am From

I am from a place
Where the land is lush and green.
Where mountains are all around me.
I am from a place
Where the birds sing like a flute in a band.
Where the four seasons
Have their effect as they climb over the mountains of my home.
The soft taste of pumpkin pie as I eat it on Halloween night.
The chilly white look of the snow
In the winter.
The sticky and gooey feel of mud as it
Gets onto your shoes in the spring.
The crickets chirping at night as we sit around the campfire
In the summer.
I am from Vermont.

Like You

Like you, I live for the feeling of snow
Under my newly waxed board
The wind whipping my face
As I carve the mountain
Not caring how cold it is
Like you, the swish of a basketball falling through a hoop
Gives me hope
The pressure of dribbling down the court
Weighs down your shoulders
All of your teammates lined up like chess pieces
Hoping you won’t lose their win
Like you, video games are a sport to me
Rivalries form
Cars crash
Buildings explode
With a click of a button

Like you, I love the ocean
All its secrets
Tucked safely beneath the surface
Waiting to be discovered
Waves race to the shore
Then collapse at the sight of sand
Like you, my friends are like family
Talking a mile a minute
Spreading gossip that nobody thinks is true
But we believe them anyway
Heading to the mall
Armed with lip gloss and money
An army in pink

The Halloween train
By Taylor Comstock
Brattleboro Area Middle School, Grade 8

Railsville was a peaceful town for the most part, except on Halloween night.
A long time ago, when the railways were first being built through the little town a terrible accident happened. The railway was not supposed to be finished for another week, but all of a sudden an unexpected train was heard rumbling down the track. The crew had not finished the bridge over the wide and deep river that ran through Railsville. It was midnight and the crew was just heading home after a long day's work. Suddenly, one of the workers' dogs started howling toward the moon and then stepped onto the track just as the train whizzed past. The passenger train flew off the unfinished bridge and into the dark depths below. Four hundred and twenty- three lives were lost as the train went down that night, including that of the dog.

Touching the Sky part 1
In a lonely place far away,
was a seagull gone astray,
it flies through spray of a wild sea,
wondering what it wants to be.
Not very far away from this bird,
is a child in a lonely world,
wondering who they want to be,
just sitting and staring at the great open sea.
Suddenly the child notices the bird,
and cannot utter a single word,
for they are wondering what it would be like to fly,
and how they would finally touch the sky.

Touching the Sky Part 2
A long way away in a castle on a hill,
there was a princess leaning on the window sill,
hoping one day she could be wild like the sea,
a what it woudl be like to be free.
She sat and stared at a place far away,
where she thought she would end up someday,
wondering what it would be like to fly,
and finally touch the sky.

Touching the Sky Part 3
Far away in a lonely place,
through a window there lies a blank face.
An orphan looks and wonders how,
what it would be like to be allowed,
to go one day and visit the sea,
and figure out who they want to be.
But wait,
why can't they be free?
Why can't they fly?
Maybe they never will touch the sky.

I'm reaching, reaching, reachign away,
as I watch the weeping willow sway,
the sky turns black with streaks of gray,
This is the end of the rest of my day.

I'm stuck in this box I can't get away,
just waiting for another day,
the sky is red,
the sky is dark,
I want to fly like a lark,
larks won't sing if they're caged you know,
so let me go.

Thunder crackling,
lightning rattling,
the sky turns black as it opens and pours,
thousands of it's tears down in hords.

Books

By Taylor Comstock
Brattleboro Area Middle School, Grade 7

Leather bound
spiral spines
yellowed pages
a fraying bind
hardcover
paperback
piled up in a spiraling stack
sat in a row on a high wooden shelf
the story could be about anything you want
all written in a different font
they are an author's creation
and they rely on imagination.

In the last year of elementary school I was bullied, and the people that bullied me had been my friends ever since I could remember. Sixth grade was one of the most difficult times of my life. They would find out things that were personal and that would hurt me if anyone found out about them.

I have seen a lot of bullying over the years. In recreation centers and in school. I’ve seen verbal and physical bullying. However, I have barely ever been bullied myself. This is my perspective on bullying. I have seen kids get beat up for wanting to play. I have seen kids get picked on for being bad at sports, for being smart, or for being gay.

Bullying on the Bus

By Ariel Watson
Brattleboro Area Middle School, Grade 7

I’ve witnessed a lot of bullying incidents. I’ve been the bully, the victim, and the bystander. There was one incident that was the worst because an older kid fought a younger kid.
I was riding the bus and a little third grader got on and sat right across from me, which was an older kid’s seat.

Trampoline

By Amanda Rink
Brattleboro Area Middle School, Grade 7

As I jump up and down
I can barely see straight
with the sun in my face
and wind in my hair
there’s a mixture of colors as
I soar into space.
The barking of dogs
and a flying sensation
makes me open my eyes as I land on the stage.
I hear my mom call,
as I perform for the crowd.
I stop and listen with intent.
I hit hard ground, when I hear her yell “dinner.”
Why is it over, why must this be?
While I eat the grim dinner
my heart sobs with grief.
Then I crawl into sleep.
Once in slumber I dream sweet
dreams of me on my trampoline.
When I wake in the morning
I look through the window,
there I see my back yard
and my bare trampoline.
So I pull on a coat and run outside,
for nothing can separate me from my trampoline.

As I jump up and down
I can barely see straight
with the sun in my face
and wind in my hair
there’s a mixture of colors as
I soar into space.
The barking of dogs
and a flying sensation
makes me open my eyes as I land on the stage.
I hear my mom call,
as I perform for the crowd.
I stop and listen with intent.
I hit hard ground, when I hear her yell “dinner.”