Sheldon Elementary School

     Looking in his eyes I see the caring, loving kid I have always known. But every since we met we have been best friends. He was always there for me when nobody else was and he would always cheer me up when I was blue. I remember the first day we met ten years ago.

     "Hey, my name is Adrian, I just moved here and you are my neighbor." Adrian said as we walked home from school, "our parents went to school together and my dad works with your mom."

     "Cool! I'm Zandra. Nice to meet you. I'm glad I will finally have a friend to play with." I say shaking his hand.

     His hands were warm. They made me feel safe.

     From that day on we did everything together, went everywhere together and we were even in the same classes for high school. We like the same things, do the same things. I consider him my brother. But now that we are heading off to collage we will be separated. He is going to the University of Vermont and I'm going to the University of Maine. That's not very far away but he will be busy with the basketball team, making new friends and forgetting about me. Me on the other hand will be thinking about my best friend. How he never wore anything gray or white because he would be afraid that he would get them dirty. His blond hair always flipped to the right side of his head and the way his blue eyes sparkled in the sun light. That is what I would miss the most.

     We were walking home one day and that's when he broke the news. He told me that he did get a scholar ship for Maine but he chose to go to Vermont. "Zandra there is something I need to tell you, I'm not going to Vermont, I'm going to Maine with you."  Read more »

The Ride To America
     It was cold on that ship. Everyone was just moaning and groaning in pain. Just lying on hard wood with back wounds so severe hurt. Everyone I knew back home was gone, all of my friends they are gone too. Know I am on this ship heading to America for Africa on a slave ship full of wounded, dying slaves. Of course no white man would consider us blacks human. We were savages to them.
My name is Kojo Kinta, and I am 16 years old. I was born in Guinea, Africa and I got sold to the white men by my father: Kofi Kinta.
     “Kojo, Kojo! Look at me Kojo!” Korfo yells my name from across the boat.
     “I am here. I am listening,” I say turning my head the best I can with I can, which is painful because it is shackled to the wood. “I am listening. Speech your words so that they can be heard,” I say trying to show that I am a worrier. I am not scared. I am Kojo Kenta and I will fight and win. I want to see my family again and I will do whatever it takes.
     “Kojo we need to fight the white men. We need to keep faith. There are more men on this ship. More black men, more men like us. They think that we don’t know anything. But we do. We are no brainless.” Read more »

Whirling around the night

Falling with crystal parachutes,

landing with the lightest touch

A second worth of heat,

melts the frozen glimmers

Alone until they find the ground,

greeting long missed brothers and sisters

Hello turns into good-bye

A beam shoots down from the heavens,

turning the crystal parachutes into tears

Earth crys

Tears rise

Welcome back to the sky

Raeven Beaudry

Language Arts

September 28, 2011

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Assessment

            The air is cold and full of salt, on the ship to America. Everyone was just moaning and groaning in pain. Just lying on hard wood with back wounds so severe hurt. Everyone I knew back home was gone, all of my friends they are gone too. Know I am on this ship heading to America for Africa on a slave ship full of wounded, dying slaves. Of course no white man would consider us blacks human. We were savages to them. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

            The pain of the lash was too much to bear. I slump on the hard pack ground unconscious. The pain, the pain is what brought me into the wall of memories. Memories of my family, memories of my life all come flooding back to me. I get lost in the wall of memories. Read more »

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Surfing the Second Sky Read more »

Success is in Everything

I believe in that in whatever you choose to do in life, that if you try your hardest and give it your all, you’re successful. But you at least have to try. You can’t go through life waiting for someone to give you a hand out. You have to earn what you have and be proud of yourself for who you are. Those are all qualities for being successful in my book. Read more »

How did this happen? Why did I ever come? Why was I even born? Stupid teachers not checking my boot; now they have a price to pay. I thought it was good exercise. Huh, yeah right!
The second ski trip my mom didn’t go. She said “No, I’m not going, I was sore for days”. I was hanging out my friends. We were all on the ski lift. The women were all sitting together in front of us. I was sitting in the middle of Hillary and Tracy. Aleck, Lucas and Anders were sitting in back of us. Mrs. Traner yells,“ Guys we are going to do the half moon trail”.

“Uh what’s that”? I ask Read more »

Open me; Open me the voice boomed thru the meadow. Open me, Open me! The noise blared like a thousand screeching tires. “Ahhhhhhh” screeched the girl in terror “I told you not to scare me like that Billy” said the girl.
“Ohhhh, so scary” said Billy. Kelsey you really are a big sack of.
“Don’t even go there!” said Kelsey “ Keep it clean, ok?” Read more »

I jumped out of my bed and ran downstairs; I leaped, into the shower. I washed up, singing Three Little Birds by Bob Marley. I heard a large boom and cringed, the water turned blood—red I was dying my life coming to end and I was only six years old. Then as hearing the terrible screams of my wonderful mother, I woke up from my terrible dream.
I screamed. I couldn’t believe that what I had experienced was a dream. My mom rushed in. My dad by her side. Read more »

As I sit and read
this poem
I ask myself why,
why write this.
I write to enable my
passion, my life,
my glory.
I write to tell people how I feel.
Poems are to me as apples are to trees,
you think you're not going to fall,
but in the end you do,
you fall to the ground
and you can only rise again,
if someone is there to pick you up
pick you up high,
higher than before
higher than your tree,
higher than you ever thought you would be,
you feel like you can fly.
Then you get dropped,
back on the ground you
lie.
You wait to be picked up again,
then in the end, Read more »

The door opened; I got on the bus second to last seat. I saw her; I have had a crush on her and been meaning to ask her out for about a year now. She was many things none of them were nice. She was mean, a jerk, bully, but she was one good thing…good looking. But I did not know one thing she was also very clever, you may think I was crazy but I asked her out anyways and this is the story of what happened. Read more »

Growing into a teenager is hard. Everybody says, "Hey, you're going to be a big teenager next year," but what do you care? As you grow up people around you change and you change too. Guys change. They play new sports and meet new friends and turn into jerks that nobody wants to be around. But wait a minute girls change too. They dress differently and get new friends. Some of your closest friends slowly slip away until you have no one. You can try to talk to them, but it's no use. They will just ignore you and pretend you were never friends in the first place. Read more »

The Roses bloom in the Autumn air
The sky forming new clouds, looking kind of fair
the ground warm,upon my feet,
the salty air tastes so sweet,
the sun so cold, dark, black,
the ground freezing back,
the sun gone behind the moon to hide until another day
while the sun comes back we all hide out,
and we wonder why,
why what you ask,
we wonder why we cant always be in the Autumn air,
gracefully frolicking through the flowers knowing that the sun is getting tired,
getting ready to go back to bed until another day,
another day with wishes and lies,
Another day to live you life, Read more »

Baseball Field

By Luke Hungerford
Sheldon Elementary School, Grade 8

The field was long and old.
The dirt was freshly redone.
It smelled of sunflower seeds and sweat.
It smelled of hot dogs and popcorn.
It was filled with all sorts of things that you find on a baseball field: spit-out sunflower seeds, long-lost batting gloves, left-behind bats, dirt-covered baseballs, the occasional whiffle ball, Gatorade bottles, wads of gum, bases and forgotten helmets.
It is the kind of place you miss playing in during the winter.
It is the kind of place where a kid can be a sports hero.