As we turn the pages of this year’s Cedar Hill Prep Chronicle Magazine, we invite you to pause and reflect—not just on what our students have accomplished, but on who they are becoming. This issue is a celebration of growth, resilience, creativity, and the vibrant spirit that defines our school community.
At CHP, we believe that education is not simply about acquiring knowledge—it is about transforming hearts, empowering minds, and preparing children to flourish in a world that is ever-evolving. This year, our classrooms buzzed with inquiry, our stages lit up with expression, and our students embraced challenges with curiosity and compassion. You will see that energy reflected in every story and every photo in these pages. From our youngest learners exploring the building blocks of literacy, to our middle schoolers debating global issues and innovating through STEM, each child brought their unique voice and passion into the fold. Our educators, ever dedicated and imaginative, continued to nurture a learning environment grounded in the International Baccalaureate (IB) learner profile—where critical thinking, open-mindedness, and a sense of global citizenship are lived values.
We also celebrate the unwavering support of our families, alumni, and community partners, who have played a pivotal role in shaping this chapter of our journey. Whether you cheered at a concert, volunteered at a school event, or simply believed in a child—you were part of this transformation.
As you flip through the magazine, I hope you feel the joy, the purpose, and the pride that radiates from every corner of Cedar Hill Prep. This is more than a record of a school year—it is a reminder that when we come together with intention and heart, we create something extraordinary.
Thank you for being a part of our story. With gratitude and excitement for what’s ahead,
Srinidhi Rajagopal, Editor-In-Chief
Whispers of Wonder
Poems by Middle School Students
A heartfelt collection showcases the poetic talents of our young writers. This anthology captures the vibrant emotions, keen observations, and imaginative flights of our middle school students. Each poem is a testament to their unique perspectives and creative expression, offering a glimpse into the hearts and minds of our poets. Dive into this treasure trove of verses and let yourself be carried away by the profound simplicity and boundless creativity of our budding poets. Enjoy the journey through their words and celebrate the power of youthful imagination.
Poetree Award Winner
The Poetree Award is an annual celebration of student voice, creativity, and the power of the written word. Open to middle school students, this award recognizes outstanding original poetry that reflects thought, imagination, and emotional depth.
The Poetree Award is an inspiring program that began in 2023 and was founded by Samyuktha Nair. It is entirely student-led and supported by teacher and principal advisors. This program is a platform for aspiring student writers to share their voices with a global community.
Poetry, A Reflection of the Human Condition
Poetry is powerful. With just a few words or phrases—and sometimes not even full sentences— it captures deep emotions and connects us. A poem reveals the truth about who we are as the human race—it’s what makes us human.
The View Behind the Veil
By Aalya Popli, 8th Grade
My face remains concealed
I feel like a caged bird
Clad in a heavy cloth from head to toe
Concealed and hidden
My view is not very detailed
And I can’t seem to find the light
In a world where only men are hailed, Colors seem muted, pale
I walk down the narrow street
Without a male companion
Is too significant a risk, To get flogged in public-
Yet, no gold coin
Can buy my way
To the freedom I crave
No silver key
Unlocks my fate
Trapped in a sea of despair
It seems as if no one around me will ever care
As a silent scream of desperation
No one like me to look to for inspiration
So I immerse myself in my imagination
Dreams of a liberated world
Where can I get a proper education
To live the life I want to lead
Locked behind bars of iron
No hope for any escape
They watch me with accusing glares
Silent whispers, piercing stares
I avoid their abhorrent gaze
And I start my endeavor
But all it takes is one cursory glance
But I can’t turn back I refuse to succumb
Then I run
And between my rapid steps I make a vow, firm and true
Whether later or now I will share my paradigm
The world will know
The view behind the veil
Chains of Silence
By Deetya Tandon, 8th Grade
They say girls like me are not meant to dream, Our voices are silenced by lies unseen. A future denied, our dreams shattered, A story erased, lost beneath dark shadows.
The world watches, unaware, The truth is buried, tied, and twisted. Our silent cries unheard, ignored, A fate despicable, a life abhorred.
The Taliban’s words, twisted and bent, Saying we’re not allowed to learn, But Islam pursues knowledge, for both men and women,
This truth is forgotten, but I keep fighting
When I step outside, My freedom bound by restrictive rules, I cannot leave without a man by my side, My freedom is locked.
I cannot run, I cannot play, In the eyes of the world, I must obey. My body confined, a game denied My rights confined in chains of silence.
Twisting truths that burn beneath. I cover my face, to hide my soul, A mask hides what’s pure. Yet beneath this veil, I long for freedom,
A snake lingers, a fear impending, Its venomous thread coils around me. No rescue near, Within a tight grip I try to escape.
Why me, I ask? Why do I bear this weight? What have I ever done to earn this fate?
Yet silence grins, The chains pull tighter.
They never see within, The way silence buries me in lies. The truth quells, It leaves me here to wonder why.
I scream, I fight, But silence doesn’t win, My mind they can’t control Determined to prove them wrong
The chains of oppression will break, A spark within me shines, No longer bound by lies, Silence dissipates from my mind. A new paradigm to reveal A future free and my dreams to soar.
Poetree Award Winner
Dear Mr. Taliban
By Grace Liu, 8th Grade
In Afghanistan, where silence now reigns, The classrooms are empty, locked in their chains.
Barren streets, and skies painted gray, Our rights are stripped, voices erased.
Fully clad in burqas, you try to cover us up, But you cannot mask the power that we erupt.
Like a storm, our strength roars through the night,
Though you try to suppress us, our power still ignites.
Empty classrooms, once filled with dreams, Now echo with whispers, and silent screams. We long for an education, a chance to rise, But because of our gender we are denied.
All humans long to learn, to chase what’s true, Education is a human right, for both me and you.
But you restrict us from what we yearn to know, Blocking the paths where curiosity can grow. Dear Mr. Taliban, we are all born with empathy and care,
We have compassion, and love is something we all bear.
But it seems you have forgotten both, as it’s clear to see,
There is no empathy, no compassion, in your cruelty.
You may demean us, dictate us, try to make us seem small,
But we are mountains, unshaken, and we still stand tall.
Although the odds are stacked against us, We stand our ground and rise from the dust.
Dear Mr. Taliban, you want control, But we resist, we will not succumb, and we hold our souls.
Shackles on our wrists, but strength in our hearts, You cannot tear us down, nor dim our spark.
Dear Mr. Taliban, why is it us that you abhor? You try to erase us, make us nothing more. Banning us from going out without a male, No sports, no music, no education to prevail.
But, Mr. Taliban, we are stronger than you think. We do not, and we will not bow to you or shrink. For our strength is fierce, and our goal is clear, You cannot silence what you refuse to hear.
You beat us, and you subjugate us, to silence our cries,
But we never cower, and will never compromise. We deserve, and we claim the right to follow our dreams.
For that, Mr. Taliban, is one thing you cannot take away or seize.
Yes, we are being silenced in Afghanistan, But the oppression, and injustice spreads across Earth’s land.
All over the world, women and children are being suppressed,
But we all stand united, drawing strength with hope in our chests.
We are the discriminated, the deprived. The underrepresented, yet we have survived. We are still people, human beings, And everybody has a voice with endless meanings.
So, dear world: we do have a voice We are seen, we are heard, We matter, we count. We refuse to bend, we refuse to comply, We resist, we are resilient, we will not be denied. We can and we will, our courage won’t decay, Because no matter what we face, We always find a way.
I’m not good enough, I never will be
Good Enough?
By Lily Trotta and Prisha Vora, 7th Grade
Society whispers through unspoken rules Speak up, But don’t be too loud. Be naturally beautiful, But wear makeup to fix flaws. What do I listen to?
I’ll never know.
I am a vulnerable seed. Being blown By the winds of the standards. Blind to my true feelings. Staring at my reflection endlessly, I don’t have to do this. There must be another way. I refuse to give others authority To tell me what to do and who to be.
Influencers: how are they pretty enough? Their bodies, hourglasses, While mine is misshapen. Their faces, flawless, While mine is spotted with acne.
Can my seed sprout, Among a forest of influencers?
Can I find sunlight to grow, When they are blocking it out? I will not submit To growing in their forest, Acknowledging my own beauty, finding my own sunlight.
My seed is floating in the wind, Looking for a place to sprout. Easier to follow the way the wind blows, Drifting along with the crowd.
When I stand up strong, resist the wind, I’m called mean.
Yet when I show some tears, I’m “too weak to be seen.”
I, a girl, have to be perfect, Or else my seed is considered a weed, Scrutinized for every mistake. Because I’m not enough. But if a boy makes a mistake, It’s okay because its their bad, Boys will always be boys
My seed can’t grow with this pressure Will it ever subside?
I ignore it, focusing on my growth. I thrive in a garden of uplifting words. Feeding them is the light that tells me: I am a better person than I think.
Short clothes reveal too much skin. Long clothes aren’t trendy. Fashion is fleeting I try to wear the “right” clothes Suffocating the small sprout: my true style. I strive to show it proudly, But how?
I wear the clothes I love, confidence in every stitch. True style in every thread. My body is adequate and I am happy in it, I am growing above the judgements, My roots growing deep, Creating a positive network.
But under the ground, there is also much doubt I look in the mirror revealing many insecurities, That’s just me. Or is it?
I don’t know who I am anymore
But whoever I am, I am a beautiful person I look again in the mirror to see someone who shines. That’s who I am.
My confidence grows like a thick, strong stem. My leaves spread out; not suffocated by trends.
My roots grow deep, a reminder of self-love.
My sprouts reach out, to the sunlight of uplifting comments.
They blossom into flowers, Their petals never wilting, despite the standards. Once a small doubtful seed, I now stand tall and proud.
Because deep down in my roots,
I know that I am good enough.
Ode to Reading
By Pragnya Banigallapati, 7th Grade
O reading
You lay there beckoning me
To others you are merely a book
But to me you are so much more than just words on a page
To me, you are a portal that opens new worlds
And when I open that door everything changes
All of a sudden, I’m not in my room
I’m outside of a castle, shooting arrows with a prince
I’m in the land of the faerie, with the king as my puppet
I’m out in a field of vibrant red poppies, making my very own flower crowns
You take me places where I’ve never really been
You let me become people I’ve never actually known
Hours tick by as I linger over your chapters
And yet, it feels as if no time has passed at all
You’re there when I’m weary or sullen
You don’t judge me when I’m infuriated
You just welcome me with open arms
Then it’s just you and me
Reading
You’re not just a hobby
You’re an adventure I can hold with my two hands
You’re a faithful friend
Reliable and ever true
To me, you are magical
A Snowy Day
By Sahasra Genupur, 7th Grade
Looking out my window on a chilly day
I see snow draped like a warm quilt on the ground.
Snowflakes dance to the ground.
Looking out the window is like a figment of my imagination.
Snapped back to reality, I get a whiff of the aroma of hot cocoa.
The fireplace crackles.
The fire roars like a mythical phoenix emerging from the shadows.
Crack, pop, sizzle; the popcorn is ready.
I enjoy the delicacy while I sit back in my comfy chair.
Daydreaming about all things cozy.
The Destruction of War
By Eli Backenroth and Afzaal Mohamed, 7th Grade
The sky is filled with smoke and fire. Screams echo through the dusty streets. The ground shakes as the earth is torn apart. Everything that stood now falls.
Destroying lives, breaking bonds
Peace Subdued
The world consumed
Buildings collapse, burying precious memories.
The air is thick with dust and sorrow. People run, but there is nowhere left to go. Fighting does not help, it only takes.
Destroying lives, breaking bonds
Peace subdued
The world consumed
A mother cries through the night
Tears overflow and run down her cheek
As she clutches a tiny shoe
Mourning those she has lost
Destroying lives, breaking bonds
Peace subdued
The world consumed
Bullets like a quivering whisper of doom
Bombs like an unfathomable storm of death.
Tanks like monsters that destroy and consume War is like a relentless plague upon the land
Leaving only ruins where life once stood
The trees are blackened reduce to stumps no shade, no shelter, no life.
Destroying lives, breaking bonds
Peace subdued
The world consumed
The roads stretch into nothing. No footsteps follow, no voices call.
The people, once happy and joyful, now tremble in fear
Humans left lost and alone, searching for hope Yet war is merciless—it does not subside.
Destroying lives, breaking bonds
Peace Subdued
The world consumed
Boots stomp like thunder before storms arise, Shouts explode through burning skies. Steel and thunder shake the ground, Orders barked, forced to stand their ground. Through the smoke, the line moves fast, Charging —soldiers wonder- will this be their last?
Devastating, decimating, destruction
Breaks the bonds
That makes us whole
Tanks ravage, crushing stone, Bombs strike targets on victims unknownArtillery thunders, skies ignite with flashing light, Naval guns strike through the night.
Jets scream past in blazing trails, Power unleashed, the battle wails
War – only made to precisely kill
Devastating, decimating, destruction
Breaks the bonds
That makes us whole
That makes us whole Poetree Award Winner
Children stumble over broken streets, Smoke and ash where children meet. The land is scarred, devoid of life
Hope is lost, the people are strife
The refugees trek far from their homes
Forced to be penned, in temporary homes
Survival’s a must for all of us
Devastating, decimating, destruction
Breaks the bonds
Devoid of hope, but not of will, To devastate or heal—it’s ours to fill. A chance to overcome the fear that binds, To seek the peace we find. Refugees, once lost in endless flight, Now stand as one, reclaiming their right. In search of a place they once called home.
Saving lives, restoring bonds, Peace and security
United we grow
Poetree Award Winner
Primo Victoria
By Sudarshan Kumar, 8th Grade
We set off in tranquility of dusk And then we arrive in the rosy hue of dawn the waves rock the sea craftsSWISH SWISH SWISH
The captain barks orders at troops, “Move fast and break those murder holes!” D’Day has just begun.
We are the first waves on shore, And we are the first ones to fall Our boots squelch in the wet sand as we charge With M1 Rifle in my hand I held it the way I held my guitar as a child
My comrade smiled and said, “This is gonna be a walk in the park!” And he said, “We’ll be back in Blighty before ya know it!” In the next hour, Bullets from the hill pierced his chest He was sobbing and dead by the end. So many men like him, Fallen like rain in a storm
The storm pursued, wind howling A deafening roar of gunfire emerged like thunder
We held our groundDetermined to never surrender Not even the fallen chose defeat, They crawled relentlesslyThe fallen howl in despair—”Quia aut primo victoria aut ultima clade” ‘cus it’s victory or defeat
The ground is painted red Smeared with the blood of Comrades and foes Fallen side by side Does it matter anymore? How they died?
We’re all humansYoung men sent to fight
In NormandyCrosses spread like white poppies
The graves of young brave men Who charged into battle Have met their inevitable demise.
They were beloved fathers Uncles Sons Brothers Husbands All were heroes
The battle is over Though the scars may never heal A delicate peace, for now Until then, war slumbers Till the next season of conflict.
Poetree Award Winner
I’ve Known Rivers
By Eesa Usman, 5th Grade
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world, Older than the flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers, But it couldn’t stop my heart of gold.
I’ve sailed on rivers, deep and wide, The Congo’s depths, where roots entwine
Flow through history, flow through mine. For battle I was assigned Euphrates tells of ages old, The way I came, I was bold.
My essence stays, in their embrace, I stand so proud because I’m not a disgrace. The ferocious lion, right below the light Never backs down from a fight.
I’ve seen all kinds from every place, Different voices, one human race.
Our skin, our prayers, our clothes may vary, But in the end, we all must carry
A soul that’s kind and is obedient In the soup is an important ingredient
The nostalgic destination was a new location And that was a new home for imagination I’ve known rivers, I’ve grown deep, And I reach for peace that all can keep.
Poetree Award Winner
The Human Race
By Shivad Desai, 6th Grade
I might be different on the outside
But I’m still the same
We laugh We cry We love We lie
All for the same reason
It doesn’t matter that I’m a different race Because in reality, we are united under the same Human Race
No matter the name, Deep inside, we’re all the same.
We search for hope, we beg for peace
We look for love that brings release
Continued on next page
So, why should my race or place
Divide the bond we can truly embrace?
When all that truly makes us whole Is love that fills every soul.
A Human Race, a human race. Where kindness shines in every space. Where books don’t have a cover And where human souls lift one another
The scent of rain. the warmth of light, Remind us all we share this life.
We all run the same race, no matter our face, United by love, we’re all in the same place. No matter the color, the name, or the space, In the end, we’re one in the Human Race.
So clasp my hand, let love integrate, With triumph, affection, and hope-not segregate.
Journey From Despair to Realization
By Mahalaksmi Krovi, 5th Grade
I was distraught in a new world
So different from mine
A square peg in a round hole
My speech and look were as peculiar as a one-legged dog
In this world no one saw
The concept of uniqueness at its best I was as lonely as a stowaway
Consumed by despair
I tried to blend in with all
But something about me wasn’t right
When will this suffering end
When oh when
A ray of hope shined brightly
As bright as a million suns
The world seemed no more forlorn
The light shone brighter than ever
A piece of literature gave me this insight
It is okay to be different
This saying got me on the right track
Becoming a ship with a clear course
“ …you have to be odd to be number one”
As Dr. Seuss once said
Pop! A realization came to life the accurate course, evident
Something just hit me
Like lightning striking a tree
Now look at me!
We Are the Same
By Armaan Kahlon, 6th Grade
We are the same
No matter who we are
We have versatile skills
We have lofty goals
We’re so special we twinkle like stars
We are the same
We are triumphant when we win We are the same
No matter who we are
We like spending time with friends We give affection to our families
We cry like a rainy day when we’re sad We dream about our future aspirations
We captivate each other when we are together
We are the same
No matter who we are
We want to attain greatness
We are the same
Creative Horizon Celebrating Student Creativity at Cedar Hill Prep
Under the guidance of our dedicated Art Teacher, Allison Dempsey, students at Cedar Hill Prep explored diverse artistic expressions, from vibrant paintings to imaginative sculptures. Ms. Dempsey’s approach fosters an environment where creativity thrives, encouraging students to express themselves through various media. Her commitment to nurturing artistic talent has culminated in a stunning display of student artwork, reflecting the unique perspectives and skills of each young artist.
Van Gogh’s Sun Flowers
By Tory Hill, 3rd Grade
Grade 3 artists explored the world of Vincent van Gogh by creating their own interpretations of his iconic sunflower still lifes. Rather than copying, students were encouraged to bring their own personalities into their work while learning about underpainting, composition, texture, and color theory.
Tory Hill’s artwork is a radiant example—she used oil pastels to bring texture and depth to her composition, resulting in a piece that bursts with color and reflects her vibrant spirit.
Goldfinch on a Branch
By Nyle Thaver, 4th Grade
Grade 4 students delved into the intricate technique of pointillism, inspired by artists Georges Seurat and Paul Signac. They practiced optical color mixing and created stunning animal portraits using only dots of paint applied with Q-tips.
Nyle Thaver’s depiction of an American Goldfinch is a standout—his clever use of two shades of blue in the background adds dimension and texture, allowing the goldfinch to practically leap off the canvas.
Recreation of Starry Night
By Laila Parekh-Patel, 5th Grade
In a project designed to foster research and independent thinking, Grade 5 students selected an artwork or artist that inspired them and recreated it in their own style. Laila Parekh-Patel chose Van Gogh’s The Starry Night and used both acrylic paint and oil pastels to capture the texture, movement, and magic of the original. Through this process, students explored artistic freedom, while gaining a deeper understanding of balance, color, and design.
Dream Restaurant
By Zinnia Shirley, 6th Grade
This year, Grade 6 artists learned the fundamentals of one-point perspective and applied their skills by drawing interior spaces with at least three pieces of furniture. Zinnia Shirley took the challenge to the next level, transforming her canvas into a vibrant restaurant scene using Sharpies and alcohol ink markers. Her attention to detail and bold color palette reflect creativity, confidence, and individuality—key elements we strive to nurture in our young designers.
Self Portrait
By Nehemiah Kim, 6th Grade
Grade 6 students also studied realistic portrait drawing through their “half self-portrait” project, which challenged them to replicate one side of their own face. After multiple lessons on facial features and shading, they created beautifully detailed pencil and crayon drawings. Nehemiah Kim’s work is a powerful example—his keen attention to line and shadow brings his portrait to life, showcasing his strong grasp of observational drawing.
By Ava Parekh-Patel, 8th Grade
In the first trimester, Grade 8 students explored self-portraiture through both traditional and imaginative lenses. After discussing the many ways artists depict themselves, students selected a medium and format to tell their own stories. Ava Parekh-Patel chose a symbolic composition: herself walking through a city, seen from behind. With fine-point Sharpie and watercolor, she brought her vision to life—blending mystery, movement, and mood with great skill.
City Walk (Self Portrait)
Cedar Hill Prep Chronicle Magazine Cover Image
Surrealist Landscape
By Saarth Gupta, 8th Grade
Grade 8 students created their own surrealist landscapes, using the medium and subject matter of their choice. They learned about surrealism, what it means, and the symbolism that is inherent to this art movement. After discussing many different examples, the students were tasked with creating their own landscape that incorporated surrealist elements and symbolism. Saarth showed great mastery of his drawing skills by creating intricately designed trees along the edge of a floating walkway. A lone figure walks the path, surrounded by the friendly faces of the trees. The use of line to create texture on the trees offers a wonderful balance against the comparatively plain pathway and sky. This allowed Saarth to create significant visual interest in this composition.
Ink & Imagination
From heartfelt reflections on life and friendship to non-fictional writings, there is something here for every reader to enjoy.
We invite you to lose yourself in these stories, to journey with our characters, and to see the world through the eyes of our talented authors.
Student Literary Works
As part of their classroom learning, our 5th and 6th graders explored topics that sparked reflection, creativity, and critical thinking. These writings highlight their growing voices and the meaningful connections they have made through their studies.
Shining From the Shadow
By Allison D’Souza, 5th Grade
“Mia, come down here. We have to leave soon!” Mia’s mom shouted from downstairs. That night, they had to go to her sister’s art exhibition at the local gallery. When she heard the news, Mia was surprised. “How can a whole gallery be dedicated to my sister’s art?” she thought. When they arrived, she immediately walked away from her family. Her sister had been bragging about her art while they were in the car, and it became extremely annoying. When she was done looking around, she met her family in the entrance of the gallery. Her mom remarked, “These paintings are magnificent, Mia. If only you could be more like your sister.” This made Mia feel sad all the way home.
Mia walked to school the next day feeling down. She met her friend, Anna, and greeted her. Anna asked her why she looked so sad. Mia said, ”It’s because of my sister, Alex. I’m apparently not good enough compared to her.” Anna told her she was good enough and that there are so many things she was good at. Mia didn’t believe her. After school, Anna and Mia set out on a journey to find out what Mia was good at.
First, they went to the local golf club. Mia tried her hand at playing golf. She was no good. They shook their heads and left. Then, they went to Anna’s family’s pizzeria. Mia tried tossing the dough, but it fell on the floor. Afterwards, they enjoyed a clean pizza made by Anna’s dad. Then, they called it a day. Mia went home and went to bed. While she was trying to fall asleep, the words “not enough” flashed in her head.
When she went to school the next day, she was disappointed. Anna was home, sick. Mia decided to continue the journey by herself. After school, she saw an old lady looking around frantically. She decided to see if she could help. “I’ve lost my keys. Could you help me find them?” asked the old lady. They looked everywhere and were starting to lose hope. Then, Mia finally found the keys. The old lady thanked her and looked sorry that she couldn’t reward her. Mia didn’t care. She just kept going where she had left off. She walked past her aunt’s art studio and grew sad. “Why can’t I be good at art like my sister?” Then, she had a great idea. She would stop at her aunt’s studio and try painting.
When she got there, her aunt greeted her at the door “Hi, Mia! What would you like to do today?” “I would like to do some painting.” Mia said. Her aunt agreed to let her paint there. Mia didn’t know what to paint so she tried painting a sunflower. In the end, it just looked like a yellow and black blob with something green sticking out of it. Art was definitely NOT her thing.
The next day, she went to school and Anna was there! After school, they went to the retirement home to play some music for the elderly people. Mia was not great at music, but put a big smile on her face and just tried to make the folks happy. Anna played her French horn beautifully and got enthusiastic applause. Mia played the piano, not perfectly,
Continued on next page
but got a standing ovation. The older people smiled, laughed, and cried. Anna congratulated, “You played better than I did!” Mia said, “Yeah, but you made them happier.” Anna said, “The whole point of this mission was to find out what you’re good at and I think I know. You’re good at helping people!” It slowly dawned on Mia. She WAS good at helping people! She went home with a big smile on her face and never compared herself to anyone else again.
Geetha’s Experience
By Geetha Puthumana, 5th Grade
When I walked into Mrs. Simon’s class, the sound of crisp, turning pages greeted me. The spellbinding sight of bookshelves and workbooks opened my eyes. It was almost as if an adventure lay just behind Mrs. Simon’s heavy doors, waiting for me! I suddenly felt so alive, bursting with energy, until a loud sound distracted me from my fantasy. It was Conor, hooting with laughter.
“Geetha, you should have seen yourself! You were all like, ‘Whoa, is this Mrs. Simon’s room or another REALM?!”” Conor joked to his friends, Leo and James.
“Whoa, I’m so amused, Conor! And it wasn’t even a funny joke, bro!” I muttered, rolling my eyes and fake-laughing sarcastically.
“Alright, everyone take a seat!” Mrs. Simon said, smiling patiently.
“Yes, Mrs. Simon.” We all said obediently. I couldn’t help but add a glare in Conor’s direction as I sat down. Siyana grinned at me as she turned from chatting with Francesca and Anandita.
“Mr. Simon is so nice!” She whispered with a soft smile. I nodded and smiled back.
“Welcome, Welcome 5A students of 20242025.’ I am so excited to be teaching you this year! For any of you who don’t know my name, I’m Mrs. Simon, your Language Arts teacher for grades 5-6.”” Everyone waved politely. “Here are your Ridgewood Grammar books!” Everyone groaned. Just then, from the back of the room, a bell sounded. “Homework is Ridgewood Grammar, or ‘RG’, pages 1-4.” Everybody sighed unhappily but wrote it down in their planners. Then everyone rushed out, everyone but me. I wouldn’t even budge.
“Language Arts is the best, Mrs. Simon!” I exclaimed with delight.
“I’m glad you think so, Geetha, because an open mind always allows you to have a great year!” I grinned and nodded, before saying “Goodbye” and heading out the door.
The next day, I rushed into Language Arts, happily. Siyana, my good friend, hi fived me.
“I’m glad we’re so compatible!” I said.
“Me, too!” she replied, sitting down at her desk and taking out the previous night’s homework. I settled down and took out a book, and read quietly even though it was hard to concentrate because of all the ruckus from the students in the back of the room. I enjoyed this Language Arts class as much as the last one. After a few more Language Arts classes, I am accustomed to the new schedule and the new way of teaching. Language Arts class also starts getting really fun, because we are reading this really interesting chapter book, “The Island of the Blue Dolphins” in class or for homework, and discussing it. It is a historical fiction novel by Scott O’Dell. It is about a Native American girl, Karana, who gets stranded on an island, nicknamed “The Island of the Blue Dolphins”
Continued on next page
because of its shape. Karana has to learn to adapt to life on her own.
On the way to class the next day, I got stuck in a crowd of 6th, 7th, and 8th graders, all rushing to get to classes of their own. I was jostled around, and stumbled to the ground. I wasn’t hurt, but I was late to Language Arts class! I felt terrible, even though it really wasn’t my fault. I scrambled to pick up my books and run to class. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Mrs. Simon!” I apologized. She nodded her head and looked toward my seat, as if to gesture for me to get to work. She glanced in the direction of the board, letting me know that the work was written on the board. I blushed with embarrassment and bowed my head slightly before getting to work. At lunch, my food tasted more bland, or tasteless, than ever. I busied myself with reading “Islands of the Blue Dolphins” so that nobody would notice that I hadn’t gotten over the fact that I had been late to Language Arts class. I got a few curious looks from Allison and Siyana, but other than that, I managed to lay low.
The next morning, I was feeling much better. In fact, it felt like nothing had happened! The aroma of freshly-baked muffins smelled especially sweet that day at the breakfast table. My friends’ smiles seemed especially warm and welcoming. I practically skipped to Language Arts class. And what a coincidence, that day it snowed! The ice combined with the glare of the sun created glistening sunlight, so the snow didn’t last long. The snow was truly a pretty sight, so it honestly didn’t matter how long it lasted. Mr. Nolan let us go outside, along with the 7th graders, to play for a little bit in the snow.
The snow was very brittle, and crunched easily underneath our feet as Santosh and Vallabh ran out ahead of us. I laughed and rolled in the snow happily, with my other good friends, Alexa, Allison, and Anandita, while Siyana played with Francesca and the other girls somewhere nearby. The next day, when I got to school, the ground wasn’t even slightly wet! The snow had completely dried
out. In fact, the air seemed a little bit tropical, reminding me of Puerto Rico.
What a wonderful day! As I greeted my friends, I thought about how simply perfect the day was. It couldn’t get any better. I took out the notebook I had recently purchased and started writing about the wonderful fall semester.
The Trip to New York
By Samarth Dakhera, 6th Grade
One day, Jacob and his brother Dylan were playing outside when their parents called them inside for lunch. They came inside and saw their parents packing suitcases. Dylan asked where they were going. Their dad responded that it was a surprise! That evening, they went to the airport. The brothers were discussing where they might be going. The place was unveiled when they saw a sign saying gate 20 is to New York. When they boarded the plane, Jacob fell asleep right away. When Jacob woke up, they were landing. Dylan said that the plane ride took forever. They then had a great meal and went to sleep.
The next day, their mom declared that they were going to the beach. When they got
Continued on next page
there, they saw the Atlantic Ocean. The brothers appealed to their parents to go swimming because they were usually not allowed to. This time they were! Jacob and Dylan made sandcastles. They ate lunch and went back to the hotel.
In the night, they went to a place called Time Square. They went and sat on conspicuous red stairs. When the family was walking to a restaurant, they saw a lot of people living in poverty. The next day, they went to an amusement park called Lego Land. The two brothers kept saying the scariest roller coaster there began with a boom! The parents said they could contribute money for the new roller coaster being built.
In the evening, they went to The Metropolitan Museum of Art, and saw a new painting unveiled. They also saw many paintings and statues on exhibit. At night, it looked like the city was sleeping because it was so dark outside. The brothers’ parents told them that they were leaving the city and were going
to their uncle’s house. Their parents also told them they were going to The Statue of Liberty on the last day of their trip.
When they got to their uncle’s house, he told them real stories. One of them is that when immigrants came to the United States the Statue of Liberty was a symbol of freedom. He told them some immigrants came to the United States because they were persecuted in their home country.
On the last day of their trip, the family went to the Statue of Liberty. They took a ferry to Ellis Island to get there. The boys were surprised how tall the statue was, but not too surprised because the lofty buildings of Manhattan were taller. The boys also noticed there was a big pedestal beneath the statue. They read the eloquent lines of a poem carved on it and went inside the statue.
Afterwards, they all went back to the airport. They all had a little more affection for each other because of the time spent together.
An Ending to The Giver
By Yajur Subramaniam, 6th Grade
The Giver, by Lois Lowry, is a story of a dystopian society where the lives of its inhabitants are choreographed from birth to death. There is no freedom of speech or individual decision-making allowed. Expression of emotions is also strictly forbidden. However, the memories of the past are kept in one man called the Giver. Jonas has been selected to become the new Giver. As he receives memories, he becomes appalled at what his society has become and flees the community. What happened to Jonas? The author does not provide closure for the reader. Enjoy this possible “ending” to The Giver.
Jonas was perplexed. He was lying down in a room. He was not sure whether he was in custody for an alleged crime, or if he had been saved by a nice group of people. Then, he remembered what had happened. He had been in a sled with Gabriel, a baby he was
protecting, and something had happened. Jonas had passed out along with Gabriel.
Jonas suddenly heard a sympathetic voice. He speculated that it belonged to one of the people who had brought him there, but he
Continued on next page
was not sure. He was frightened, yet his gut told him to remain on the bed he was on. The voice spoke to him.
“Hello, my name is Jack,” it said. “I presume you don’t know much about me, Jonas.”
“How do you know my name?” Jonas questioned.
“I read your mind.”
“How is that possible?”
“It is a long story. Do you care to listen?”
“Yes, but first, where is Gabriel?”
“That is also a long story.”
“Tell me the story.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything.
“When you passed out, my community saved you and the baby. We used an ancient method of mind-reading to read your mind and figure out your story. We integrated you into our community and saved you and Gabriel. As for Gabriel, he is in another room similar to yours. He is being taken care of well.”
Jonas did not know how much to thank Jack. Jack had saved him and Gabriel and even changed his dirty apparel. At the Ceremony of Twelve, Jonas could not have imagined any of this to happen. Then, Jonas realized he was just captivated with a dream.
Jonas awakened with a start. Now, he was in his own room in his own community. He was surprised to see his father smiling beside him. He was very confused.
“What is happening?” asked Jonas. “How am I here? Did my plan work?”
“Yes, Jonas. This is how everything happened. When Gabriel and you disappeared, the entire Community was worried. We sent airplanes out to look for you. We did not find you. By chance, I met the Giver on the street. The Giver told me about the plan and I did not understand at first. About an hour after that, the entire
Community received the memories. After that, I understood everything. We figured out where you had gone, and we went to find you. You had passed out on the ice next to Gabriel. Your mother, Lily, and I saved you with the Giver’s help.”
“What about the echoes?” asked Jonas.
“I believe you were hallucinating when you heard the echoes,” said his father.
“Okay. Thank you for saving me. What happened to my mother, Gabriel, and Lily?”
“They are in the room with the sled. Also, you will go to your new school on Monday, Jonas. Then, you can get a job of your choice in a few years. We reformed the community with our new knowledge of the memories. Anyway, you look tired. You should get some sleep.”
“I will do just that, father.”
“Goodnight, Jonas. You will see the rest of your family in the morning. That includes Gabriel.”
“Yes, father. Thank you for everything”
Qualities of a Good Leader
By Agasthya Mabbu, 6th Grade
The qualities of a good leader are kindness, courage, intelligence, resilience, and eloquence. These are the traits that a strong leader needs to lead.
A strong leader needs to be kind because lifting someone up makes that person feel better. When you are kind, you have more friends and people know that they can come to you if they need something. Leaders should be kind because people know they can trust them.
Leaders should have courage because they will face challenges paving the way for others to try something new. They will not back down to a problem. They will face it and try to solve it. This courage will help their communities and environments.
Intelligence permits them to solve problems, help other people, and think outside of the box. This trait helps them to be efficient. Efficiency is something that is important. It allows leaders to have maximum impact.
Resilience is a very important trait. Leaders who have this trait will not back down when they lose or do not solve a problem. Instead, they will persist until it goes their way. This trait separates leaders from average people.
The last important trait is eloquence. Eloquence helps leaders explain what is on their minds in a way that is easy to understand. This allows them to speak against a problem and solve it.
In conclusion, good leaders need kindness, courage, intelligence, resilience, and eloquence. If someone has all these traits and qualities, he or she is destined to be a great leader.
The Importance of Learning History
By Zinnia Shirley, 6th Grade
History is not just what is read in a textbook. It is the world’s story that has been told for generations. People of different ethnicities and religions have stories to tell. We learn by listening to history.
Who are we? Why are we? What have we become? The reason we know who we are is because scientists have made discoveries and written them down. The origins of humans and how we have evolved are taught in classrooms across the world. History is the key to knowing our true selves.
There are many myths and incorrect assumptions told these days. We assume that if a person of high authority, such as a governor or president, makes a statement that it is automatically true. History tells us that this is not always the case. By studying history, we can learn to know the difference between false and true information.
Teaching history also sparks interest. People who are interested can become the next great historians of the world.
To sum it up, history is the key to understanding life. It will stick with us throughout our life’s journey. If someone questions why we should learn history, this person does not understand the impact it has made on society throughout the years.
Memoirs
Time to Shine
By Demitria Rott, 8th Grade
Hairspray, bobby pins, sparkly, glimmering, bedazzled bow. I stand backstage in anticipation while the team ahead of us takes their only chance to impress the judges. As I hear their booming music fade and come to an end, the crowd roars with excitement as athletes exit the stage. Come on! You’ve got this! Push through! I focus my thoughts, take deep breaths, and prepare myself for the next 2 minutes and 30 seconds. We run onto the mat, revealing our identity to the crowd. The world around me goes silent as our fast, upbeat music blasts and our routine begins.
Striped Wonders of the Savannah
By Arsh Dandona, 8th Grade
We drove through the stunning, golden, and dry savannah of Southern Africa. The tall grass danced in the direction of the wind blowing. During the scenic drive, we spotted hundreds of zebras grazing peacefully. Their black and white stripes stood out against the savannah. I smiled as they stared curiously at our vehicle, their big eyes scrutinizing our every move. One zebra approached, as if deciding whether we were friends or strange creatures invading their home. I laughed, marveling at how they looked like they were wearing striped pajamas. Nature is both beautiful and a little silly at the same time.
How-To Make Tiramisu
By Meghana Indupuru, 8th Grade
How-To Contest Description
Meghana Indupuru’s piece, How To Make Tiramisu, advanced to the second round of the 2024–2025 New York Times How-To Contest, placing in the top 25% of entries. This national contest invites students to interview and quote one expert on a topic that they are interested in and write clear, engaging instructional pieces on how to do something they know well—celebrating creativity, clarity, and voice.
“A good tiramisu is the balance between a cake, a sponge cake, and a biscuit,” declares Sangeeta Lekhi, a tiramisu connoisseur whose family and friends have often requested her to make the irresistible and beloved Italian dessert for countless celebrations. While making tiramisu may seem daunting, “beginners can absolutely make it,” emphasizes Lekhi, encouraging everyone to experience the bliss of perfecting tiramisu.
Start by preparing the cream, which consists of heavy whipping cream – store-bought or homemade — sugar, and mascarpone cream cheese. For beginners, using store-bought heavy whipping cream is easier. Next, find a suitable ratio for the cream. “I use a ratio of 4 ounces of mascarpone cream with one quart of heavy whipping cream,” reveals Lekhi. Using a stand mixer, whip all ingredients until you get the quintessential consistency — smooth and creamy. Also, it is pivotal that your cream has stiff peaks – when the “peaks” of the cream can stand upright, like a pencil. Once your cream is
ready, it’s time for the next crucial component — the ladyfinger biscuit.
The quality of your ladyfingers, or sponge biscuits, can make or break your tiramisu. Lekhi recommends store-bought ladyfingers for ease and quality. Next, make the coffee mix to dip the ladyfingers into. Mix two cups of boiling water with four teaspoons of instant coffee. Then, pour this mixture into a bowl. Carefully, dip your ladyfingers into the coffee one by one. Adjust the dip time based on who is eating the tiramisu — a quick dip for a hint of coffee and a few seconds for a stronger flavor. “Don’t soak it too long,” warns Lekhi, as soggy ladyfingers can ruin your tiramisu. After the cream and ladyfingers are ready, assemble your delectable dessert.
Spread a ½-inch thick layer of cream in a clean tray. Then, assemble a layer of ladyfingers on top. “Leave no gaps,” advises Lekhi. On top of the ladyfingers, spread another layer of cream. Finally, repeat with ladyfingers and cream. You can also sprinkle unsweetened cocoa powder.
Making a creamy and decadent tiramisu is more meaningful than simply layering various elements. It is perfect for both casual and formal occasions! An exquisite tiramisu consists of, as Lekhi highlights, “a hint of coffee, a hint of cocoa, and whatever flavoring you use for your cream.” Ultimately, making tiramisu is more than just following instructions — it’s about enjoying the process and getting creative with a creamy and elegant dessert.
How-To Make Sorrel (hibiscus drink)
By Zaria Mitchell, 8th Grade
“Everybody expects that you have sorrel because it is a must-have at all Jamaican houses during Christmas time,” explains Dahlia Cole, who has been making sorrel for over 20 years. Jamaicans celebrate the Christmas season with curry goat, rice and peas, but it would not be complete without sorrel. It is a quintessential drink found in every Jamaican household made from a refreshing burgundy flower. Americans and Latin Americans call sorrel a “flor de jamaica” or “hibiscus drink”, which is directly tied to its scientific name, hibiscus sabdariffa. However, Jamaicans refer to it simply by the flower’s name – sorrel.
The essence of sorrel is derived from the flower, which gives it its color and robust, tart taste. You can make sorrel with fresh or dried flowers from Caribbean supermarkets. “First, wash the flowers and set them aside, but be careful not to leave them in the water for too long or the flowers will seep,” Cole warns. This makes the flowers lose their flavor. Next, prepare the ginger, peel the skin off, and blend it with two cups of water until combined.
Time to make it! But before making the drink, have the right tools. Cole stresses, “Use a stainless steel pot because it will maintain the color of the sorrel. Other types will make it darker than it should be.” Add the ginger blend to a stainless steel pot, bring the mixture to a boil, and add pimento seeds and two cinnamon leaves. Then, place the dried hibiscus flower into the pot. Cover it with hot water, ensuring the water barely covers the flower. Bring this to a boil again, then put it on low heat for 15 - 20 minutes. Let the drink rest for an hour to seep before straining it. “You can use a regular strainer to strain the
drink but using a cheesecloth makes the drink smoother,” Cole recommends. Finally, add sugar to taste, pour the drink into a glass bottle, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours because this refreshing drink is best enjoyed when chilled.
Not only are you enjoying a warm aromatic drink, but it’s also good for you. Sorrel helps boost your immune system and has antiinflammatory properties. It is rich in vitamins C and A, which help produce collagen and improve vision. Additionally, it has many antioxidants that boost overall health. Enjoy this delicious, healthy drink while tasting a bit of Caribbean culture.
Interstellar Island
By Grace Liu, 8th Grade
Grade 8 students created their own surrealist landscapes, using the medium and subject matter of their choice. They learned about surrealism, what it means, and the symbolism that is inherent to this art movement. After discussing many different examples, the students were tasked with creating their own landscape that incorporated surrealist elements and symbolism.
Grace used markers, colored pencils and clark pastels to create a dreamlike seascape with many out of this world elements to create her interstellar ocean. She showed great understanding of the concepts she learned while creating this work. The focal point of the island is the celestial palm tree and complemented by the colors and patterns used in the background.
