they'll see how beautiful I am...

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

*excerpted from “I too sing America” by Langston Hughes

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Selected Works from the COMPAS Creative Classroom Program

Edited by Danny Solis with co-editor Teagan Solis

Cover art by Emmett Ramstad Interior art by Sarah Nassif

Please be advised that the writing included in this book comes from a wide range of young voices. Students ages 6 18 are included and some mature themes and language may not be appropriate for every age. COMPAS Teaching Artists do not influence the subject matter, nor censor students’ writing.

Writing subjects are the students’ own.

Publication of this book is generously supported by the Lillian Wright and C. Emil Berglund Foundation, dedicated in memory of C. Emil Berglund.

COMPAS programs are made possible in part by grants provided by the Minnesota State Arts Board, through an appropriation by the Minnesota State Legislature. Additional support has been provided by many generous individuals, corporations, and foundations, which can be found at our website: www.compas.org/partners.

As always, we are grateful for the hundreds of excellent teachers and administrators throughout Minnesota who sponsor COMPAS Creative Classroom activities. Without their support and hard work, the writers and artists would not be able to inspire the student work we celebrate in this book.

Book production: Emma E M Seeley and Julie Strand, COMPAS staff

Book design: Emma E M Seeley

ISBN 978 0 927663 78 6

Cover art  2021 by COMPAS Teaching Artist Emmett Ramstad Interior art  2021 by COMPAS Teaching Artist Sarah Nassif Music, additional words, arrangements  2021 by COMPAS Teaching Artist Charlie Maguire and Mello Jamin Music

Text  2021 COMPAS

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reprinted or reproduced without the prior written permission of COMPAS, except for brief passages cited in reviews.

COMPAS

475 Cleveland Avenue North, Suite 222 Saint Paul, Minnesota 55104 COMPAS.org

Danny Solis

The

Friends Everyday

Halmoni

Mrs. Conneran’s & Mr. Wattenphul’s Class

Ariella Kim

Siblings Samantha Baker, Saphira Lewen, Ben Manecke & Rachel Wilcox

Charlotte McPherson

Life Lessons

Malaya Mack

Onions Ms. Daugherty’s Class

Let’s Eat! Mac & Cheese

Mr. Lambert’s & Mr. Wattenphul’s Class

The Barn, A Found Poem Lauren Hedlund

Amai Rahn

Faith Dunham

Household Nervous System

the World Make Way

The Everything

H.

Garay

Krings

Rowles’s Class

Covid

Am Always Breathing

Six Feet Apart. Masks

the Good

of History

Our Backyard,

Place

Showers

Place

Mother Earth

That River

Proulx

Coombe

Sahr’s

Mrs.

Doerrler’s

Mrs.

Miskell

Anderson

Johnson Olsen’s

Larsen

Grieving

Tahlia Growe

Animals

Anteater

Star Sailors

Space Craft!

Creativity

Explore the River with Me

The Calm Song

The Birds Do Fly

Ms. Bauer’s Class

Renstrom

Dunbar’s Class

Aidan Younan

Mrs. Hockett’s & Mrs. Dunbar’s Classroom

J.

Ms. Bechtold’s Class

Ms. Scheid’s Class

Browning’s Class

A Lemon Is Lydia Laabs

Fish in the River

Respiratory Tide

Nothing But Sunshine

Baron’s Class

Ilse

Ms. Rimmele’s & Mrs. Dunbar’s Classroom

Pressure of the Deep

4 : Story Time

Curtes

Spy Girl Sadie Hann

The Two Grandmas

L.

Craziest

Kageyama

Pushed to the

Lexi’s Adventure

Left at Snowy Alps

Cristy’s Bad Day

Magic

H.

Powers

Doyen

Hibernation Megan Lewis

Kallie Price

Charlie’s School

Wonder World of Fairies

a Stand

System

in

Blessed

Government

Nervous

Davis

Adam

Olbekson

Stolen

Nation

I Have Given It a

6 : Who We Are

What is a Man?

C.

W.

Kowalczyk

Anton Jahn-Vavrus

Protection Sadie Maguire

Caleb Colton

To My Grandma Kaylee Eidsmoe

My Name

H.

Words Delight Ian Nordland

My Name

I Only Ever Told You and the Moon

M.

Mazie Solarz-Patel

Black Girl Power Skyy Phillips

Gen Z D. X.

¡Me Levanto!

Cone

She Grace Wadell

My Name

A.

Con versations Taletta Jones

Clarity

Bertram

Grow Logan Wagner 171

Core of Me Joshua Vail 174

¡Me Levanto! Kaden Foster 176

Why I Like Tokyo Nanako Isozaki 177

Socially Anxious Rachel Wilcox 178

Small Town Living Sophie Olson 182

¡Me Levanto! Ray'Quan Sydnor 184

The Little Things Erin Brandt 185

My Name N. A. 188

Open Book Addisen Knier 189

What is a Father? Sean O’Connor 191

Two Sides Mia Weaver 192

¡Me Levanto! D. G. 194

Nervous Song Mrs. Cohen’s Class 195

¡Me Levanto! Ju’Nya Carpenter 196

The Painting Rebekah Anderson 197

The Book That Held My Heart R. S M. 200

¡Me Levanto! Acitlali Martinez 201

INT RODUCTION

It has been a pleasure and an honor to work on this youth anthology. When Julie (COMPAS’ Arts Program Director) asked if I would be interested, I wanted to immediately answer yes! The only real possible constraints were my busy schedule and the deadline. Luckily, everything came together, and I was able to do this very enjoyable and challenging work.

As I awaited the manuscript in the mail, I began to consider various methods and strategies for working on a youth poetry anthology, something I had never done before. Then it hit me, I live with a soon to be 14-year-old who, despite his occasional reluctance to admit it, is a poetry lover and an excellent poet in his own right! Who better than a real live teenager to help dust off my creaking poetry perspectives and aesthetic sensibilities? So, I recruited him to be an assistant editor on this project and it was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done.

Working on this group of poems was a wonderful journey. Teagan and I disagreed a good deal but often found ourselves agreeing a good deal as well. While collaborating on this project, Teagan proved himself to be a typical teenager in that he was hard working, honest, astute and articulate when given the chance to be.

Without his wise observations and contributions, this anthology would look very different. It is evident to me that I have learned more than I have taught in the course of this worthy endeavor.

Choosing the prize winners from so many excellent poems was absolutely the most difficult part of the job. Having to decide that one piece of really incredible art is somehow better than another is an arbitrary endeavor at best. We chose, because we had to. But there were so many amazing poems, the judging was so close in so many instances that many more ‘winners could’ve been named. But really, on some level, all contests are arbitrary. In a very real way, I truly believe that every single author in this volume is a winner simply by virtue of having expressed their thoughts and feelings and truths. They are all winners because they have let their creativity and imaginations off the proverbial chain and allowed them to roam freely, to the betterment of all.

Lastly, let me say that one might consider the question, “What are our young people thinking about, what are they feeling these days?” Well, the answers are right here in these pages. In defiance of the tired stereotypes about “young people these days,” the young poets and writers in this anthology have created a statement that is as powerful as it is graceful. Many of the poems are harrowing in their visceral content and raw emotion. These young authors have observed their world without looking away and now unflinchingly report back to us. But for all the hard realities depicted in these pages there is also rollicking joy, and hope and humor and loveliness. These young poets are not sleeping on the profound beauty of this world and our lives in it. Their artistic acumen is matched only by their ability to believe that somehow our world can be a better place and that they can play a part in making that happen. I very much believe that they are right.

Danny Solis, editor

see how beautiful I am…

The Everyday

Friends Everyday

Everyday, everyday, everyday is a good day

Everyday, everyday, everyday is a good day

A friend is someone you can trust

Everyday is a good day

Having a friend is a must

Everyday is a good day

You can have a good time

Everyday is a good day

A friend is like a lifeline

Everyday is a good day

You make a friend by being nice

Everyday is a good day

Sometimes you have to roll the dice

Everyday is a good day

Friends are there when you take a walk

Everyday is a good day

Friends are there when you need to talk

Everyday is a good day

When you are far from home

And not everyday is a good day

When you have a friend you are never alone

Everyday is a good day

Everyday, everyday, everyday is a good day

Everyday, everyday, everyday is a good day

Mrs. Conneran's & Mr. Wattenphul’s Classroom, Grade 5

Red Lake Elementary, Plummer

Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

Halmoni

I sense you’re here by your strong lavender perfume, like you’re coming right out of a field of flowers. When I think of you, I think of your smile, warming up the whole room. The way you feed us until we can’t get up. Your thick accent and your stories that take me into another world. Whenever I come, you’re waiting by the door, ready to embrace us in a big hug. I remember you by your proud gleaming eyes when we tell you our accomplishments, your expressions when you’re talking about nature and gardens. When I see you, I think of your pearl necklace, your short black hair, and the warm wool socks you put on every day. I come home from school and the smell of rice and kimchee swirls around and I know you’ve come.

Of course I miss it: your warm hugs, your delicious food, your gleaming eyes. But I know you’ll be back and I will be waiting for you.

Ariella Kim, Grade 5 Saint Paul Academy, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Joyce Sidman

Siblings

Italicized = Rachel

Underlined = Ben

Squiggle underlined = Saphira

Double underlined = Samantha

Highlighted = Rachel and Saphira

Bold = whole group

Siblings

The ones we hate, And the ones we love.

The ones we share our secrets with, And the ones who share them with us.

The ones who give snuggles, Since when?

The ones who make us get them water when they’re fully able to.

The most annoying people on the planet, Who eat the leftovers

Even when we have our names on them!

The ones who drive you to the store,

The ones who make you bread, Then eat it in front of you.

The ones who drink their coffee really loudly.

The ones who help you with homework

Even if you ask them not to.

The ones who hog the tv all day.

The ones who always needs to use the shower.

The people who can make you die from laughter. Who you have countless inside jokes with.

The one who laughs when you fall,

Only to help you back up , And make you fall again.

see how beautiful I am…

The one who plays catch with you, Who teaches you to draw, And goes swimming. They are always there when you need help, And when you don't. We watch movies and eat popcorn. They call me uncultured when I don't understand their jokes. We jam out to music together. We go mini golfing with each other.

Living through all of these goods and bads . Going to their wedding.

Watching someone close to them vanish, Welcoming new members.

They always know how to push your buttons, Ruffle your hair, Take your stuff, Go through your things.

They teach you life lessons : How to share, How to argue, How to compromise, And compare.

The ones who steal your sweatshirt once you're finally taller than them.

The ones who love you unconditionally, The ones who tell you which high school teachers are the best. The ones who take you to sports games in the summer. The ones who warn you of the future. What college roommates are like, They help you learn, Teach you what to expect, and what not to,

Teach you h ow life will treat you ,

Because even if you don’t always like them

You love them.

You are there for them, And they are there for you.

To guide them

To be guided

To help

To be helped

To answer questions

To ask questions.

Siblings are life long friends,

No matter how much you argue. They will always be there for you, Willing to bail you out of every situation, Dig you out of every hole, Be your partner in crime , Your getaway driver.

No matter what you need, Convenient or not, They will be there, And never leave your side, (Sometimes).

Because in the end, You’re family .

Samantha Baker, Grade 8

Saphira Lewen, Grade 7

Ben Manecke, Grade 8

Rachel Wilcox, Grade 8

Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview Teaching Artist, Desdamona

beautiful

am…

c anine

My joy is in dogs.

When at a low, dogs are the sun.

It’s kind of obvious.

By now we know dogs are great for us, they provide much more than a cute face. They see blood sugar lows as delicate as lace in people with diabetes.

A sensory Sinatra, with a wagging tail, plush coat, panting tongue.

A grounding friend that will never tell your secrets, They retrieve trash from the ocean. Something that was never their problem, but is now their job to solve. They’ve given hope to hospice members. They have an unmeasurable loyalty that most humans can’t even expect of themselves. Something you can go to, something more than just the day by day structure of our plain human lives. Dogs bring out the best in us.

You can get a good sense of someone's personality by watching how they interact with dogs. We are lifted of our social pressure temporarily to engage with a being incapable of judgement.

Now think about what we’ve done for them. The bare minimum, in some cases.

Dogs deserve the world, and yet?

They get left out in the cold, abandoned like a candy wrapper, dropped at highways, rehomed, and rehomed again because of a problem that a human was too lazy to fix.

Somehow, they still forgive

Somehow, starting again, they hold trust in their eyes like a warm sweater.

Memories are there but aren’t holding them back.

Charlotte McPherson, Grade 8

Lake Harriet Upper School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Life Lessons

Life lessons could be a blessen.

They teach you the rights and wrongs in life.

The wrongs will bring you strife, But you will learn from them and do better.

Life lessons could be a blessen, Give good manners and always show respect…

A life lesson is to show compassion and forgiveness…

Life lessons could be a blessen…

Challenges will make you smarter and stronger…

Work hard because hard work pays off…

Know that we are all human and make mistakes…

Life lessons could be a blessen.

Malaya Mack, Grade 5 Free Arts of Big Brothers Big Sisters, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Onions

I walk in the door

Huge smiles of salads and strawberries

I can smell the soda from across the room

“This is SO GOOD” I hear someone say

We sit down Order the food

Wait a few minutes

I was excited

When we ordered I didn’t see it said ONIONS

The plate lands in front of me I see the onions

And my face turns white

I HATE onions

Ms. Daugherty's Classroom, Grade 3

Highland Elementary School, Columbia Heights Teaching Artist, SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Let’s Eat! Mac & Cheese

Let’s eat! Mac & Cheese

Something good for you and me

I’m hungry! It’s nice and hot You make it all, in one pot!

Boil the water on the stove

Put in the macaroni don’t be slow

Wait until it’s nice and soft Add milk, butter, cheese, and turn it off!

You eat, Mac & Cheese for lunch

With chicken nuggets you can munch

Sometimes with venison or a glass of milk Mac & Cheese goes down like silk!

Creamy, yellow, perfectly good! Clean your plate, like you should Put a fork, in your hand You can eat it from the pan!

Mr. Lambert's & Mr. Wattenphul’s Classroom, Grade 6 Red Lake Elementary, Plummer Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

The Barn, A Found Poem

The barn

Large, old.

Smelled of hay, manure, tired horses, And the sweet breath of patient cows.

Peaceful smell, nothing bad could happen.

Smelled of grain, harness dressing. And axle grease and rubber boots.

And new rope.

Warm in winter.

Animals indoors.

Cool in summer.

Doors wide open, breeze. Ladders, grindstones, milk pail. And rusty rat traps.

Lauren Hedlund, Grade 10 Roseau High School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Julia Klatt Singer

Childhood

I want to survive

I am often found talking about my past

I feel as if I talk about it too much

As if it’s a call for attention because I was taught attention seekers were bad

Growing up I didn’t have the sunshine; I grew up with brick walls

Everyone saw me as the innocent puffball

I barely remember a thing, but I remember the screams and cries

I thought every day would be the day that I would die I knew every word he said was a lie

I remember the pounding “Bang! Bang! Bang!’

I memorized the footsteps of the man I feared so I would be able to hide in time

There was no hope And now I have to try and cope Cope with the habit of walking on a tightrope

Not impossible, but learning is hard I’ve learned not to talk if nobody hears That was easy to learn, but how can I unlearn and uncover people’s ears

I want to survive

Abuse is a strong topic not many want to talk about

It often goes undetected without a shout

Maybe that’s why it took so long to doubt

It took me years to doubt that the things that he did to me were right

People often look at abuse as just bad parenting

It should be heard if the child is afraid I was afraid

No one cared

People care now though

I fought my way through and somehow survived

I took my situation and thrived

Even when I was deprived of love and hope

I found a way to cope

It’s hard some days, especially when I see the thing that happened to me happening to other people

The memories sometimes beat into my skull

I know some people lose the battle

I almost did

I am scarred, but scars can’t hurt me

I was bruised by a man who felt no love

Bruises and scars heal, what doesn’t heal is the mind of a child

I want to survive

I don’t want to die

I don’t want any other child to fear the end

I don’t want to hear the shouts and screams

They say the mind of a child is wonderful

When you can’t even hear the child’s voice through the thunder

“Shout! Shout! Shout!”

The victim tries to get their point across

But there will always be doubt

There will be doubt because people want to believe no person would hurt a child

A person would hurt a child

Nobody cares to hear what an unwanted child has to say

They don’t care what they’ve been through People only care how much money they can make from the issue

Most people want children to be still and to be still as a statute

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

I will not stand for this

I grew up without a childhood because of people’s choices

This shouldn’t happen to anyone

I want the abuse to be done

I want to survive

Amai Rahn, Grade 8

Anoka Middle School for the Arts, Anoka Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

2:36

It’s 2:36

The only time I have the freedom to think

As I please in a world

Who sees me as nothing more

Than having to be perfect

From the way I sit, to the way I talk, to how I plan my day, to the friends I make Society is nothing more than people telling me how to live my life

When they don't even know if it's right

In this game of chess called society

When life gets too hard

The Kings, who we know as politicians, CEOs, and influencers, can retreat

While the pawns known as us cannot.

Well look at me

I made a mistake

I moved the wrong pieces

In this game of chess

And this ache in my chest leaves me awake

Which is why I’m out at 2:36

Looking at the night sky as an escape

From the past mistakes and the past memories that hold me close

Keeping me awake to think, think, and think again

About what I could have fixed

The only freedom I have is in the dark distorted deep night sky

As it hides all the scars

That we try so hard to hide

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Some find their worst nightmares

Just hiding in the sky

But all I see is an escape from the world

That just shoves me aside Society doesn’t care about me Until I'm too blindsided from the truth too care

The only time society worries

Is when their reputation is ignored

From those who don’t care to fit in or wear a gold star

It hits them in the chest

When they realize not everyone’s a pawn

That wants to play in their sick game of chess

Well Checkmate

Because we’re tired of hiding in the dark But I’m out of moves

In this game of chess

It’s 2:36 the whole world is asleep except For those who found a way to break free From the criticizing, the mockery, and the scrutiny

We’re so tired can’t they see

The blackness under my eyes from the nights I stay awake

As I run to get away From the game of chess

That I'm so mindlessly Losing at

Can’t they see?

Why aren't they looking?

We’re so trapped and they don’t even care We’re so trapped, so trapped, so trapped

Which is why I’m out at 2:36

Letting the bags under my eyes grow and grow

Just to remember who I really am

Until I need to put my fake face on and pretend that

I'm fine

I look at the clock

Its 2:37. Faith Dunham, Grade 9 Roseau High School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

My H ousehold N ervous S ystem

The nervous system is like my household. We all work together to meet the same goal.

My mom is like the neurons, she tells my brother to do the chores, like taking out the trash

And that’s why my brother is like the spinal cord. He gets told to do chores by our bossy mom, Just like how the spinal cord gets signals from the neurons and sends it throughout the body.

My dad is like the brain of the house, he pays the bills, and works together with my mom,

Like how the brain and the neurons work together. My dad also tells my brother to do the chores. But, sometimes my lazy brother doesn’t feel like doing the chores and tells me to do them.

Like how the spinal cord sends the message to the nerves. A stroke is when blood stops flowing into the brain and a certain part of it doesn’t work.

A stroke in my household is not having my dad take his medicine, he needs it to calm his heart.

When this happens, my brother doesn’t listen to my mom, He doesn’t tell me to do the chores, Like taking out the trash, and cleaning the house.

In return the house is a mess, clothes everywhere, dirty dishes in the kitchen,

As if a group of 5 year olds plowed through our house. You see, without everyone doing their part My family wouldn’t be able to live together

Just like the nervous system, Without it, your body wouldn’t function.

Kyle Garay, Grade 7 Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Let the World Make Way

Tip tap tip tap

I ought to say hooray. Click clack click clack

I’m off to go and play.

Bippity bop bippity bop

It feels just like a holiday.

Snippity snap snippity snap

Though it happens every day.

Tiki tak tiki tak

I get to go say hey.

Kata ka kata ka

So let the world make way. Raka ta raka ta

For the best person I’ll see all day.

Amelia Krings, Grade 10 Roseau High School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Julia Klatt Singer

The Everything

The breath is slow, the way he sleeps.

The way he knows when I am sad and had a bad day,

His green eyes looking into mine.

The way he always wants treats and begs by meowing sweetly.

When he comes to me and likes to play with his toys. The way he has my heart is all of that!

When I walk past him, his eyes are glimmering in the sun.

N. H., Grade 5

Eagle View Elementary School, Elko New Market Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Credits

Salty buttery warm spiciness

Popping in my mouth

Surrounded by soft fluffiness

The opening credits pull me in.

Words in an hourglass

Billions of letters slowly falling.

At first, it’s seconds of credits

Then minutes, then hours

Days Years

Decades

MILLENIA.

Credits be long, fam.

In my coffin, waiting for the credits to end I’m with God and it’s still going.

These credits belong to the devil.

Looking down from heaven, it’s still going.

The earth just ended…I’m like, “whaaaat?”

These credits have me going through the five stages of grief.

My computer is at .000000000002%.

Fire the person who decided to put all these credits at the beginning.

see how

am…

Did you know the credits existed before time, space, and matter?

The credits are on a higher dimensional field. The credits existed before the Big Bang and anything else.

My lights cut off because I didn’t pay rent AND THEY ARE STILL GOING.

It’s been 99,999,999 generations and the credits are still going.

Nothing exists and they are still going.

This movie has ruined my life.

God has retired.

The credits are still going.

Ms. Rowles's Classroom, Grade 5

Highland Elementary School, Columbia Heights Teaching Artist, SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

Lots of Boats

Lots of ways to go

You just have to know

Lots of boats to take

On the river (2x)

Paddling a canoe

On the river with you

Made out of a log

On the river

The towboat pushes the barge

They are very large

To the Gulf of Mexico

On the river

The wheel goes round and round

From town to town

On a paddleboat

On the river

It’s a party boat

When you are afloat

You have lots of fun

On the river

Ms. Rasmussen’s Classroom, Grade 2

Talahi Community Elementary School, Saint Cloud

Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Covid 19

Thanks a lot Covid 19

Now I’m staring at a screen

Distance learning is no fun

I just want to be done

Watching Netflix all night long

Which is clearly all wrong

Binging, scrolling, and even streaming

Might leave you feeling like you’ve been dreaming

Electronics all sounds great

Maybe even staying up late

Until you see you’ve spent days

With countless hours in a haze

Screens or chemicals what was the cause

Just take a breath and pause

Lysol, hand sanitizer, and even bleach

Keep it all within your reach

Toilet papers running out

Stop there's no need to shout

Target will still be open

At least that’s what I’m hoping

Why are you worrying about this anyway

When people are dying and won’t see another day

Shouldn’t this be more important to you

Than finding something to wipe your poo

C'mon guys we’ve gotta come together

As if we’re birds of a feather

That stick together

Just remember you’re not alone

Everyone else is working from home

One day we’ll be back in class

And this will all pass

Olivia Anda, Grade 8

Anoka Middle School for the Arts, Anoka Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

M osque

The mosque is the happiest place to be.

It’s where we talk to God without being sacred or ashamed. It’s where we are safe from enemies

From sin.

It’s where we forget life’s problems.

It’s everyone’s home. The mosque,

It’s the happiest place.

Where lovers pray for each other

Where children play Where parents are praised

Where stories are told and mystery is hidden. No hate is allowed here, but Everyone is welcome.

Here is where every mother is your mother

Every sister is your sister Brothers play ball in the back

While parents are proud. Here is where you meet beautiful reciters Reciting the Quran. Here is where you save yourself from sin.

In here love wins

It spins around you. We’ll see the love. Look around

Do you see it?

You will find all skin colors here

White, black, blue.

Here is where peace lays. Here you will hear the names of the most wise men, names like Jesus Noah Joseph.

Here is where I call home. It’s sweet like foam

Older than Rome.

You will never be alone here.

You will find your own zone

While it’s known

The tone of the imam

Will calm your soul. You will feel in control.

But it’s fair to say, I haven’t seen my zone

Since COVID Can’t find the comfort.

How am I supposed interpret?

It’s a place where everyone smiles! Everyone helps each other with their trial

While running their mile.

Here’s where in prayer we stand in a line! Here’s where we shine in the eyes of our lord; he’s closer to us than our jugular veins. Here is where we pray for the dead And praise the elderly.

Here is where youth are saved from the streets. The mosque is the most misunderstood place. Stereotypes became its synonym. But I have seen photographers get on their knees to capture an angle

And painters lay on their back to complete a canvas And I love getting on one knee

With a ring and heart in hand. So why is it strange to you when I fall into prostration in range?

I’m not a lover

Or a believer.

Hamda Abdi, Grade 12

South Senior High School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

I Am Always Breathing

I am always breathing

The respiratory system is like a concert and a person releasing music

The nasal cavity helping you breathe in the oxygen

Like producers helping musicians make the composition

The oxygen finally reaches the throat

Like the musician releasing their song notes

The pharynx carrying the air

Like the people listening to the music

The pharynx finally let’s go of the air and gives it to the lungs

Like the venue people willing to let a musician have a concert at their venue

When the oxygen finally reaches the lungs

The lungs get bigger

Like the musician finally entering the big stage at a concert Starting to wave at the crowd of people

The people starting to CHEER CHEER CHEER

WOOHOO

Which makes the lungs squish the diaphragm

Like the gates being opened by the people that are desperate to be close by the musician

But the rib cage will always protect

Like the security making sure people don’t get through

I am always breathing

Jonathan Reyes, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Six Feet Apart. Masks On.

If I could ask you then, what would you have immediately thought of when I said “quarantine” a year ago?

What would you have thought of?

Maybe being trapped inside a bubble?

Having only your thoughts to entertain yourself?

Slowly rotting away in a cell?

Slowly growing more insane each day?

Now, what if I were to ask you right now?

Right at this second, Right now, the same question?

You’d probably say something like staying inside all day, Not talking to anyone, Only going out when absolutely necessary.

Six feet apart. Masks on.

Each day feeling like one thousand years and one second at the same time.

Two weeks turned into four, Then six, Then eight.

The virus slowly seeping into the cracks of America. The cracks that needed more time to heal before anything seeped into them.

Like an infection, the sickness spread, And spread, And spread, And spread.

Six feet apart. Masks on.

Is this what Rapunzel felt like?

Being trapped in her tower all the time

“This is fine,” we say as the world burns around us, literally. Something happened that summer though Something that tips the world over And a racist president isn’t much help at all.

Six feet apart. Masks on.

Summers don’t usually feel long.

In fact, for your average 11 year old, they go quite fast

But this one was long.

It was as if all the heat went to everyone’s minds. The weather was nice though.

People not being able to go to work Meant the factories didn’t run, Meaning less pollution.

Six feet apart. Masks on.

When it is time to pick a president

Biden is elected.

Therefore giving us our first woman and woman of color as our vice president. It is progress, but still.

Six feet apart. Masks on. It will be over soon.

Six feet apart.

Masks on.

I know it.

Six feet apart. Masks on.

2021 will be different.

Six feet apart. Masks on.

Sophia Proulx, Grade 6

Murray Middle School, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Find the Good

Find the good. You’re on the train

On a circle track Everyday cycle

You say no point in trying. Just going about life you don’t feel like flying But I say “what?”

We all got a purpose

Your job is to find it.

So stop your crying, wake up Find the good.

Listen to me when I say that you should ‘cuz if you don’t Well Houston, we’ve got a problem ‘cuz man you got something to do.

You know it’s true and I do too. Pandemic? No problem.

You still got your head.

Use what you have and find the good. Search like Dora and maybe you’ll find your City of Gold.

What can we take from Corona?

More time to study more time to learn. No more Covid coma?

Work hard and you’ll get that diploma, Find your purpose, Get that dream job. You earned it Find the good.

I know it’s hard to see, but if you look

There’s a bright side where the sun shines.

There is always a dark side too but is that what you want? That road leads not to good, but to bad So tomorrow when you wake up it’s not just another day

But an opportunity to make a difference,

Clean the house,

Pick up trash.

May seem small, but it’s really a lot.

You may think it’s not, But what if we all did one small thing?

Do the math.

Now it ain’t so small.

So one more thing, Take off your hood, put down your phone, Listen up, Find the good.

Samuel Coombe, Grade 8

Anoka Middle School for the Arts, Anoka Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Episode of History

In this episode of history

I see people

Cooped up in their houses like birds stuck in a bird cage. I see people

Gloomily wearing multicolored malicious masks every time they go outside to a dull, gray, skyscraper filled city. I see people

With baggy eyes that only hear the clicks of their black Chromebook’s keyboard

Whilst typing out their answers in the chat of a Zoom meeting. But then I fast forward and I see people

Pushing through it like ants at work. I see people

Preventing the butterflies in their stomach from getting them feeling down. I see people

Who are always finding ways to keep in touch with their closest friends, and new comrades. I see doctors

Working hard on helpful vaccines and exciting new cures And helping people in times of need.

And then… BOOM!

I see the end of the episode. I see people absolutely overjoyed to see their friends back in person.

BOOM! I see a colorful classroom

Filled with kids chatting together until the teacher tells them to be quiet like a determined librarian. BOOM!

I see families getting together for a celebratory get together laughing like joyful bees buzzing around BOOM!

And I see myself

Telling my children and grandchildren, about this episode Of history.

Aryansh K C, Grade 5

Cottage Grove Elementary, Cottage Grove Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

A Place

There is a place I sometimes go to…

That’s quite a trip from where I live, Where there’s sun and storms and summer dew, But in no sure pattern that I can give.

I go there through a stillness that wraps ‘round me like a cloak

A blissful state of numbness that rises like sweet smoke.

I stray there often while I’m dreaming, When I’m wide awake or when I’m observing When I’m calm or when I’m tense.

It sometimes has a meadow where I lie in grass that’s free of bugs,

Or I simply watch the shadows that the moonlight playfully tugs.

The storms there are a wonder, With lightning, rain, and gales. Dandelions blow asunder With each one carrying tales.

I can go there in just a minute. Yet it seems like eons away… But it’s an easy place to visit, So perhaps I’ll see you there one day...

Cathleena Yang, Grade 7

Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

see how beautiful I am…

Supernova !

Space is peaceful, and quiet too

It’s just the planets, and me and you Then something happens in the universe And a good star goes from bad to worse

Am/Power-Explosive

Supernova!

An explosion by a star Supernova!

A rainbow bizarre Supernova!

An explosion very far Supernova!!

A huge explosion in the galaxy

There’s something happening, that you need to see Hydrogen into helium powers the light And you can see it definitely at night

There’s a nova coming you can see it with your eyes

If you didn’t know that, I hope you’re not surprised Someday soon, just before you go to bed

You’ll see something in the sky that is big and red!

Mrs. Sahr’s & Mrs. Dunbar’s Classroom, Grade 3 Mendota Elementary School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

Meteor Showers

Meteor showers, meteor showers

Falling from the sky, falling from the sky

Through the atmosphere, through the atmosphere

You can watch them go by

You can watch them go by

And you don’t get wet, you don’t wet

You stay dry, you stay dry Meteor showers, meteor showers

From the sky, from the sky

Meteor showers

Happen at night

Through the solar system

You can see their light

You don’t need a towel

You stay dry Meteor showers

From the sky Meteor showers

Shining bright

Red yellow and orange

Such a delight

You don’t need water

You stay dry Meteor showers

From the sky Meteor showers

Lots of lights

Crashing through The starry night

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Don’t need an umbrella

You stay dry Meteor showers From the sky

M E T E O R Meteor showers from the sky! Ms. Doerrler's & Mrs. Dunbar’s Classroom, Grade 2

Mendota Elementary School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

My Place

I am from a dot in a void of darkness

A vast, midnight wave of silence

A place glittered with an endless stream of stars

Lighting up the dark like lights on a Christmas tree

In the dead of night.

I am from a place far beyond the reaches

Of giant vacuums, enormous holes

That consume those who dare approach.

From the speckled sapphire surface of Kepler

To the melancholic, similar look of TRAPPIST.

My place is just like them, only much farther away

Like distant cousins who rarely see each other.

My place is not alone however

My place is surrounded by others just like it Others who look different, but are still the same

Just like the human race.

It is surrounded by its kind, those who come in All shapes and sizes

All living together in one area

Like neighbors in a nice little neighborhood.

It is not just a neighborhood, however

My place is enclosed in its own section

A section in the seemingly endless wave of nothing.

That section is like a city, or perhaps bigger

Maybe even a country.

That section is called the Milky Way.

My place is surrounded and protected by a border

Of massive rocks in a circular shape

Resembling a utopian shield.

My place allows me and others like me to thrive,

To grow, learn, and live.

My place is a beautiful mix of green, blue, and brown.

There are over an infinite number of locations

Just like my place

But where I’m from is truly one of a kind.

I am from Earth.

A. S., Grade 12 Roseau High School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Desdamona

Dear Mother Earth

Dear Mother Earth,

I’m sorry. I’m extremely, honestly sorry. We have ripped out your hair and dug deep into your skin. We have burned you from the inside out and we have suffocated you. We have killed off so many of your beautiful animals for our greedy selves. We have made a sauna inside of you and we have made you cry, and soon there will be no more tears left and the world will be engulfed in that sadness. You have gifted us this beautiful planet, and we have taken it for granted. I’m sorry; I want to help you, but I don’t know how.

Jada Miskell, Grade 7 Valley View Middle School, Bloomington Teaching Artist, Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

Untitled

You look up or look down, You’ll find it, You’ll find the old candy wrappers and old car parts, And everything else in between. You’ll find it spewing out of cars, And huge metal hunks of metal called factories, Heating up the planet like a huge sauna for the worse, Making waves the size of skyscrapers. Month-long storms

Misplacing more people than some wars,

On our not so pristine coasts

That are covered in car parts not to mention the plastic, Tough as nails that will sit on the earth like rocks and minerals

And get stuck in animal’s throats like they are choking them to death.

These problems are fixable. The problem isn’t finding ways to fix the problem, The problem is finding ways to change. We all know many solutions to change. It’s just that change is very hard.

Imagine when the school year started and we were all distanced.

Was it easy starting to do all this scheduled curriculum?

No, it was very hard! But over time it got easier and easier and easier. It’s like climate change, once we initially change it’s hard But once we do it and do it again, it gets more and more easy. Not to say that we’re not changing, I just don’t think we’re changing fast enough. We’ll end up in the right if we keep going at this rate,

Think of some things that we could fix climate change with Stuff like windmills as tall as mountains

And solar panel fields like cities And electric cars.

There’s one problem with all these things, They’re more expensive than diamonds.

You know what isn’t expensive?

Recycling everything, From bags to food Eating all your food

These are all things that are dirt cheap And they’ll help Not a bunch, but just enough

If we all do them we’re taking steps in the right direction That’s not to say that you shouldn’t put up solar panels Or windmills

Or have electric cars if you have the means, Stuff like that is very good for the environment, And if you have the means, you should definitely be doing them.

We can all do our part. It’s not that hard.

We can all do our part to save the planet in this trying time. So I ask you… Please do something.

Arthur Anderson, Grade 6 Murray Middle School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

see how beautiful I am…

Clean That River

Clean that river

Clean that river

Clean that river

For the rest of your days

Plastic bags and bottles too Recycle them is what we do

Reusable bottles that’s the thing That we do to make the river clean

If you lower that river

What do you get?

Bicycles, carts, a fishing net Pick it up, on cleanup day Or reuse it another day

Even things that we can’t see Are polluting our river for you and me Garbage out!

Knowledge in! Our river is a friend

A dirty river is purple and brown

You can’t see the fish swimming ‘round Clear and clean, ready to drink

Is the best river for all we think!

Mrs. Johnson Olsen’s Classroom, Grade 2

Talahi Community Elementary, Saint Cloud

Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

River River, you twist and turn. You gallop through the world, you dance and prance. You are a home to life and so much more. You are a gentle giant. Your enormous, magnificent shape is like a long squiggly line down a blank canvas. You make me shiver when I see your strong shape spiraling into every crack and crevice. I look at you, knowing that there is so much more than what we can see.

Harper Larsen, Grade 5 Saint Paul Academy, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Joyce Sidman

Grieving for Fish

The first time my eyes set sights on the ocean

They marveled at its blue majesty

Pearly caps of giant waves far bigger than me. The ocean, where my feet dreaded the thought of stepping on a sea urchin,

Where palm trees would grow around the sparkling shore, Together, side by side, like a little family leaning towards the sun.

In the water beyond the waves

Just below the horizon, sea life,

And all kinds of unknown creatures, came up To look at the tourists trashing their ocean home.

Trash and garbage coughing up the fish, Plastic weighing down sea turtles and whales Tying their intestines into a repulsive knot.

The trash curdling in their bellies

Jellyfish unable to go back home

Tangled in debris left behind by careless people. There they lay on the scorching shore along with their fellow starfish,

The blazing rays of sun frying them.

When I touched the sand, Its heat set my feet aflame Sizzling them.

The shells and pale sand under me went “Crunch, crunch, crunch” in between my toes.

Suddenly…swiftly

The roaring tide swept my feet up, a huge wave Plunged me into the icy cold water. I fought to get the salty taste out of my drying mouth.

Sinking...dropping…

I felt myself falling into the

Everlasting body of silver water

Farther and farther

From the shore.

The water was starting to get murky and disgusting

With all the garbage around me.

The air vanished from my lungs, My eyes started to fade into the deep, murky underbelly

Of the unforgiving polluted sea.

Is this what the fish feel?

Trapped, but in their own home Underneath all this litter?

My brain was racing for a way up, In moments of desperation

I kick, kick, trying to reach the surface

Until I finally emerge to fill my lungs with the fresh air.

Since that day, I think to myself

We should try our best to clean up the Messes we make.

At the beach,

Instead of not caring about the bottles of glass and paper on the shore.

If we don't, it will end up in some poor fish Killing them from the inside.

Slowly, but surely, trash will clog them up In a slow painful death.

The first time that my eyes set sights on the ocean…

Tahlia Growe, Grade 7

Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview

Teaching Artist, Desdamona

how beautiful

Mississippi Animals

MISSISSIPPI ANIMALS!

MISSISSIPPI ANIMALS!

MISSISSIPPI ANIMALS!

THEY LIKE THE RIVER WIDE!

The river otter can hold it’s breath

For 8 minutes under water

The river otter is playful and fast When you see one it’s already past!

The whitetail deer, they blend in You can see them by the river The whitetail deer

They jump high Down by the river they hide

The orange fox is smart and tricky

With fast legs and a bushy tail

The orange fox has pointy ears 40 meters it can hear

You can hear the wolf howl at night

They travel with each other

The wolves are gray and black They howl in a pack (Howl)

Ms. Bauer’s Classroom, Grade 2

Talahi Community Elementary, Saint Cloud

Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

Anteater

We call this animal

Anteater! 6 foot

Long tongue stretching out to eat

Yummy yum.

Yum in his tum.

He has no little bum.

Just sniffing with

His nose. Getting ready pose!

Forward backward, backward forward!

Anteater! Lick, lick, lick!

Hazel Renstrom, Grade 3

Park Elementary School, Henderson Teaching Artist, Julia Klatt Singer

Star Sailors

Star Sailors!

Sailing to the stars

Soaring evermore

In spaceships instead of cars

Star Sailors!

Sailing across the sea

Floating to the planets

Just you and me!

Do you know about Mars?

Do you know about the moon?

Do you know about Venus

Can you go with me soon?

Star Sailors!

Earth is my home Rockets help us fly

To the planets we roam Star Sailors

Across the Universe

Like the seven seas

The Astronauts go first!

And I feel brave

And I feel frightened too

But I feel happy Because I am with you!

Star Sailors

Taking a cruise

Looking at outer space

Sending back the news!

100 billion stars!

Black Holes without light

Space Dust, Nebula, in the night!

Star Sailors!

The stars are pink and white

The earth looks green and blue, Shining bright!

Star Sailors!

To learn new things

To go to places, that we’ve never been Star Sailors!

Why do we go?

To discover new planets

And come back to show

Do you know about Jupiter?

Do you know about the sun?

Do you know abut the Earth?

And the Solar System?

Star Sailors!

Spacesuits gray and white

Golden visored helmets

So cold space won’t bite

(To protect from the sun’s light

Sailing like a kite)

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Star Sailors!

Verse One/Schiltz class, 1st Bridge/Thul class, Verse Two/Poppitz class, Verse Three/Calhoon class, Verse Four/Christiansen class, 2nd Bridge/Sahr class, Verse Five/Rimmele/Quinnell class, Verse Six/Schwister class, Verse Seven/Krohn class, Verse Eight/Hellmann class, 3rd Bridge/Thul class, Verse Nine/Schiltz class, Verse Ten/Poppitz class, Verse Eleven/Lay Harvey class

Mrs. Dunbar’s Music Classroom, Grades 1 4 Mendota Elementary School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

Here is what you need to know Physics, Science, and Math All before you go Star Sailors!

They can’t argue or fight They have to apologize They have to be polite

Breath

My body is a tree

I breathe, trees breathe

We may breathe differently, but we are the same

We use different things to breathe, but our breath, is synchronous

We both use the hate of the world to drive us

It drives us into becoming more than what we used to be

We will all continue to breathe

We will continue to breathe until there is nothing left

Some trees can't breathe because of infection

Some people can't breathe because of disease

We both have similarities and differences

But our breath is synchronous

We all get chopped down

But when we are hurt it drives us to become greater

If we all keep breathing, we will always be ok

Everything will be ok

Everything will be ok

Everyone's breath is the same

We are all the same

From the redwoods in California

To the worms under your feet

We all breathe and if you keep breathing, we will all be ok

Everything will be ok

Everything will be ok

My body is a tree

I breathe, trees breathe

We may breathe differently, but we are the same

We all breathe, our breath is synchronous

We are all the same

We all breathe

Aidan Younan, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Space Craft !

First came the satellite

It went round and round

We still use them

For weather on the ground Next came the capsule

It went to the moon

Powered by a rocket That went boom!

Powered by a rocket that went boom Up through space and past the moon

Powered by a rocket that went boom Up through space and gone with a zoom

Next came the shuttle

All covered in tile Shiny and white You can see it for a mile

Then the space station

It’s like a home Connected by radio You’re never alone

Powered by a rocket, you’re never alone

Up though space it’s just like home

Powered by a rocket, you’re never alone Up through space in the endless zone

Powered by a rocket that went boom (clap) Up through space and past the moon

Powered by a rocket that went boom (clap) Up through space and gone with a zoom

Mrs. Hockett’s & Mrs. Dunbar’s Classroom, Grade 4 Mendota Elementary School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

Creativity

The nervous system is like your creativity

You can’t turn it off, it flows out of you.

It never stops until the end. Nerves all over send electricity Send messages automatically.

It’s like your creativity.

They’re what tell you when winter turns to spring. Feel the sun, the warmth, feel this natural urge To create, your nerves send the messages straight

To the brain which moves your body to create.

To get up and dance.

And as you do, a million nerves will tell you what to do They’ll sense your surroundings travel through the spinal cord.

It’s like a highway of electricity, protected by the spine, Which is made of a lot of bones, Like a song with a lot of notes that work together for a harmony.

The spine has bones that move for flexibility.

Our nerves are like our paintbrush, They help us find our way across the canvas Feeling around, uncomfortable.

Our brain will figure it out like writing a story

Open to interpretation sculpted by the things around us. Like our brain, our opinions, To one, a book is beautiful

To all the book is here and now. That’s the facts.

Our brain will interpret things the way it sees them. Doesn’t mean it’s right, But we don’t need to fight.

The nervous system is like our creativity.

You can’t turn it off, it flows out of you.

S. J., Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Explore the River with Me

Come on!

Come on!

Come on!

Explore the river with me (2x)

Itasca Minnesota

There’s nine more

On the river to see There’s 10 states Down to the ocean Come on, explore the river with me

Saint Cloud Saint Paul Saint Louis

Is where I want to be Pretty cities On the river Come on, explore the river with me

Apartments, and bridges And hospitals, lots to see Skyscrapers, and flower gardens Come on, explore the river with me

You might hear waves

You might hear whistles

You might hear bells

On the river to see You might hear birds

You might hear cars You might hear “hello!” Or “goodbye!”

On the river with me

Ms. Bechtold’s Classroom, Grade 2

Talahi Community Elementary, Saint Cloud Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

The Calm Song

I feel calm When I listen

To the rain

When I’m

Asleep at night

And I can’t hear

What people are saying

I feel Pink, I feel Blue

I feel Black and Green too

I feel Calm

Ms. Scheid’s Classroom, Grades 6 8

Murray Middle School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Dylan Fresco

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

T he Birds Do Fly

HIGH UP IN THE AIR WAY UP IN THE SKY OVER THE RIVER THE BIRDS DO FLY (2X)

White and Brown

The Eagle looks to me

Eating fish

Is what I see Gliding in the sky Looking down With yellow, round eyes To the ground

With a black long beak

The Hummingbird looks to me Drinking nectar

Is what I see Floating in the sky Fast and loud Red, yellow, and orange

All around

Big round eyes

The Owl looks to me

From far away, they can see Flying in the dark They don’t make a sound With their long talons, swooping down

Mr. Browning’s Classroom, Grade 2

Talahi Community Elementary, Saint Cloud Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

A Lemon Is

A lemon is sour.

It is a circle.

If it was an animal

it would be a fish. It is yellow.

If it was a noun

It would be a book. If it was a verb

It would be Swimming.

Lydia Laabs, Grade 3 Park Elementary School, Henderson Teaching Artist, Julia Klatt Singer

Fish in the River

FISH IN THE RIVER MISSISSIPPI I KNOW FISH IN THE RIVER THAT’S THEIR HOME

On the bottom of the river

The CARP makes their home Yellow, gray, and orange Seven or eight years old

Yellow and white Our “State Fish” Walleye eat small animals But they’re a tasty dish

Mississippi sunfish Yellow and green Eight inches long Swimming over to me

Mississippi Paddlefish

Has a long nose Seven feet long Down the river it goes

Ms. Baron’s Classroom, Grade 2

Talahi Community Elementary, Saint Cloud

Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

Respiratory T ide

My body is a temple

I am a machine

My body is its own society

The respiratory system is like the tide

Ever repeating

Pattern

In Out In Out

Repeating Throughout Life.

My body is a temple

I am a machine

My body is its own society

The diaphragm is like the moon

Ever moving

Never stopping Pushing

Pulling

In Out In Out

Expanding

Contracting

In Out In Out

Only stops

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

With Death.

My body is a temple I am a machine

My body is its own society

The respiratory system is a pattern Ever repeating Never Ending In Out In Out Pushing Pulling In Out In Out Expanding Contracting In Out Expand Contract In Out In Out Never Stopping In Out In Out Constant Sound

Nothing But Sunshine

Nothing but sunshine Shining on me

Shining on my shoulders Shining on my knees

Nothing but sunshine Shining on you Gonna make us happy That’s what it’s gonna do!

Nothing but sunshine Shining on me Shining on my head Shining on my feet Nothing but sunshine Shining on you Gonna make us happy That’s what’s it’s gonna do!

I miss sunshine

When it goes away It makes me shiver

If it lasts all day

Nothing but sunshine Shining on you

Gonna make us happy That’s what it’s gonna do!

(Repeat First Verse)

Ms. Rimmele’s & Mrs. Dunbar’s Classroom, Grade 1 Mendota Elementary School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Charlie Maguire

Pressure of the Deep

I am water rushing through the currents.

I am a voice from a creature arising out from the deep.

I am the bubbly heat from the fiery depths.

I am the glistening blue fire, extinguished in front of a Phoenix.

I am the blue light creeping through the water.

I am the pressure of the deep.

I am peace.

Bowie Curtes, Grade 4

Meadowbrook Elementary School, Golden Valley Teaching Artist, Marie Olofsdotter

S ection

Story Time

Spy Girl

One day Lizzie was walking home from school when she heard a sound in the bushes nearby. She stopped and stared at the bushes. Suddenly, a fox came bounding out.

“Flamie!” cried Lizzie. “Come here, girl!” Flamie was Lizzie’s pet fox, but Lizzie had not seen Flamie for a while. “Wait,” said Lizzie. “What’s that in your mouth?”

Flamie dropped an envelope into Lizzie’s hand. It said “To: Lizzie From: Spy Detective Agency.”

“Hmm,” said Lizzie. She opened the envelope. There was a letter inside. It read, “Dear Lizzie, Unfortunately, we need your help yet again. We are sad to inform you that TimeTeller, the villain, has stolen the Gem of Creation and is planning an evil plot. We don’t know what it is yet, but please help us to stop TimeTeller. If you don’t want to, we understand. Yours always, Spy Detective Agency.”

“Of course I’ll help,” Lizzie cried. “Come on, Flamie, let’s go and get our spy gear!” Lizzie ran home with Flamie behind her. She burst into her house and ran upstairs into her room. “Let’s find that spy gear Flamie!” She searched all around her room. “Aha! Found it!” She put her spy gear in a bag and thundered down the stairs like lightning. She raced into her garage and hopped onto her bike. Then she put her gear into her basket and Flamie, too.

Lizzie pedaled as fast as she could to the old shed in the woods. She jumped off her bike and laid it in the grass, then ran up to the shed and knocked on the door. Knock. Knockknock knockity knock! “Come in!” called a voice. Lizzie

poked her head in. There was a talking portal. She stepped in and put on her and Flamie’s spy gear.

“Hi,” said the portal. “Why don’t you come through?”

“Where are you taking me?” asked Lizzie.

“To the mountains where the TimeTeller lives, of course,” answered the portal. “Where else?”

Lizzie picked up Flamie and stepped through the portal. “Brr,” said Lizzie. The portal was cold as ice. THUMP! Lizzie landed on the ground. A nut bonked her on the head. “Ow!” Lizzie cried. She looked up to see a sloth holding nuts in the tree. Hey, stop that!” said Lizzie.

“Stop that, Silver!” shouted a voice.

Lizzie turned and saw a girl about her age behind her. “Sorry about Silver,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Lizzie replied. “My name is Lizzie. What’s yours?”

“Echo,” said the girl. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I have to find the mountains of Ice,” replied Lizzie. “Do you know where they are?”

“Yep,” said Echo. “Right behind you.”

Lizzie turned around and saw the most majestic mountains she had ever seen. “Whoa!” said Lizzie.

“I know, right?” said Echo.

“Well,” said Lizzie, “I’d better get going.” Lizzie grabbed Flamie and Echo grabbed Silver. They headed towards the mountains searching for a secret tunnel. Suddenly, Lizzie shouted, “Found it!”

“Oh, no,” moaned Echo. “When you make loud noises, there’s an AVALANCH!” Echo screamed the last part!

“Ahhh!” Lizzie cried when she saw the snowballs. They were the size of gigantic pool floaties and they were rolling straight towards them! “Quick!” yelled Lizzie. “In the tunnel!” Lizzie, Echo, Flamie, and Silver all dove into the tunnel and waited for the avalanche to be over.

“That’s a very wise thing to do,” said a voice. They all jumped, even Flamie and Silver. They turned around and saw a beautiful ice crystal bunny behind them. “Sorry for scaring you,” the bunny said. “My name is Roselia. I was following you to give you this.” Roselia handed Lizzie an old map. “Good luck,” she said and then winked at them and disappeared.

“What is that?” Echo asked.

“I don’t know,” said Lizzie. She opened the map. “Oh, wow. It’s a map of the TimeTeller’s secret base.”

“Let’s see,” said Echo. “We’re pretty close. All we have to do is keep going through the tunnel.”

“Sounds pretty simple to me,” said Lizzie.

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Suddenly there was the flapping sound of wings. “Yip!” barked Flamie.

Echo pointed toward the ceiling. “Oh, my gosh!” cried Lizzie. There were millions of fruit bats everywhere. “Quick, look for a piece of fruit!” Lizzie and Echo frantically started searching for a piece of fruit. After about five minutes Echo suddenly cried out, “Found one!” She tossed it down the tunnel far behind them. The fruit bats flew past them, and they both sighed a sigh of relief. “Come, let’s keep going,” Echo said.

Soon they reached the center of the of the tunnel. “Look,” Lizzie said. “There’s the Gem of Creation.”

“Wow,” said Echo. “That’s really the Gem of Creation?”

Lizzie stepped towards the Gem of Creation, and then glanced around to see if there were any booby traps. She kept walking towards the Gem and finally grabbed it. TimeTeller leapt out of the shadows and lunged at Lizzie. Echo leapt forward and tackled TimeTeller to the ground while Lizzie ran with the gem. Echo pushed TimeTeller and ran after Lizzie. They ran back through the tunnel and outside to the clearing where the portal was. They jumped through the portal and Lizzie poked her head through just in time to see TimeTeller. She and Echo closed the portal just as he was about to jump through it. They turned the Gem into the Spy Detective Agency and Echo became a spy as well.

Sadie Hann, Grade 3 Southview Elementary School, Waconia Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

The Two Grandmas

Tom came home and threw his backpack down on the floor. “Ding!” It was a text from Grandma on his phone. “I need help getting some groceries,” it said.

Tom pulled out both of his pockets. They were empty. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t have any money. He ran the two miles to her house to ask his grandma for money to buy them for her. Halfway there he heard “Ding.” It was another text from his grandma. It said, “I’m at your house. Where are you?”

“Oh, great! I ran this far for nothing!” he yelled. Yawn. He was so tired from running. He sent her back a text that said, “Meet me at the grocery store so I can help you.”

Next to the grocery store he saw an old lady with scrunched up eyes and a scrunched up mouth trying to cross the street. “Can you help me?” she said to Tom in a grumpy voice.

Tom rolled his eyes up to the sky, but went to help her. He put a steady hand on her arm and walked her up to the curb. She said “Thank you” and gave him $5.00 for helping her.

“Wow! Thank you!” Tom said. “Now I can help my grandma buy some groceries.”

The old lady shook her finger at his face and said, “Make sure you’re nice to her. I’m a grandma, too. Buy her some cake.”

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Tom thought that was a good idea. His grandma loved chocolate cake. She said it always tasted best with mint ice cream. Just then he saw his grandma waving at him from the store. He ran to her. He was as happy as a kid on Christmas morning because he helped two grandmas and now could buy his grandma a special treat!

B. L., Grade 3

Southview Elementary School, Waconia Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

The Craziest Day of My Life

I was walking home from school when Veronica, my best friend and I stumbled upon my “new” neighbor’s house. It used to be a happy-go-lucky house, pink with white brick, a picket fenced yard, and a 2 car garage. It was the American dream. But our new neighbors completely darkened the house. It was painted black with dark grey brick, an electric fence, and added a new crickety porch. Veronica and I looked at each other, puzzled.

I replied with an unsure, “I don’t know…”

We decided to ask our parents if we could visit our new neighbors. Surprisingly they both said, “Yes, you may…” So, after our homework, Veronica and I went up the crickety porch. “Creek, creek…” the porch sounded. It smelled of fall leaves, even though it was spring. We rang the doorbell, and to our horror, the “new” couple looked like the villains out of a horror movie. They invited us inside and they had dark wallpaper, a lit, raging, fireplace, and an extremely crooked floor. Veronica and I looked each other dead in the eye, still puzzled, but she looked more worried than anything. Dolls were everywhere, scattered all over the place, and soon a small figure emerged from a doorway. It was just a little girl, but our minds quickly turned to the worst. Her hair was as dark as midnight, it seemed like it ran in the family.

But then she said in an eerie voice, “Follow me…” Veronica ran out the door, at the speed of light. I was running right behind her, but the door slammed right when Veronica ran out. I felt a weird feeling like I was betrayed, backstabbed,

“Who are your new neighbors?” Veronica asked.

and so many other emotions. Immediately, once Veronica ran out, a massive thunderstorm hit. Tears started rolling down my eyes like a waterfall. I was sick to my stomach. The nauseous feeling was so strong I felt like I was going to pass out. Right behind the house, there was a dock, one that I have never seen before. There was a river right next to it, stretching as far as I could see. Tidal waves started forming quickly, so quick it seemed fake. It started to overflow. I wanted to jump out onto our roof, but I guess you “can’t” swim in rising water. I heard Veronica’s laughter, and I started to feel sick again. She was probably laughing because I was clueless, but what do I know?

“What if she was scheming this? What if she’d have let me die?”

The what ifs were taking over my head like I was having a panic attack.

I couldn’t control it at all so I started hyperventilating. The flash flood was getting higher and higher. Of course I went upstairs so I wouldn’t get devoured by the flood.

Every frosted window was locked, but that’s something I would expect from these types of people. I opened the drooping, sad curtains and while the water was rising something clicked. I had a ladder at the back of my house.

“So if I jumped, I could get to our rooftop!” I thought to myself quietly.

I opened the curtains and they creaked, a lot. I jumped out of the window, but then another thing clicked. It was April Fools Day! How did I know? While I was exploring the house,

I found similar decorations that weren’t colored black. But, at the time I didn’t think much of it. Just then, ANOTHER thought clicked in my head. Was Veronica in on this? I asked her a few hours after it happened, and she said “Yes!” jokingly. I wondered who the neighbors were. They turned out to be the real neighbors! But yes, the flood was fake too. When I jumped out of the window, I fell on solid ground and it was nighttime! I couldn’t believe EVERYONE was in on it. Even my parents knew! That’s probably why they said yes, otherwise they would’ve said no. I felt extremely clueless now. I didn’t know how I’d recover from Veronica “betraying” me, but I know I will soon. The river was projected from a projector on their ceiling. Everything made sense now. I am super happy that the crazy prank wasn’t real.

Delaynna Mortvedt, Grade 5 Roseau Elementary School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

see how beautiful

Kageyama and the Magic Shoes

Kageyama had just lost a basketball game and scored zero points. He was so disappointed, and Chuck was not helping, “nice job, loser,” he said.

“I'm sorry, okay,” said Kageyama. Chuck looked at him and said “regardless you cost us the game and that’s all on you, you contributed nothing to that game.”

Hinata said defensively, “it’s not his fault he had a bad game we all do, it’s normal.”

“That’s no excuse he made us lose the game!” Kageyama walked with his head down and went home.

On the way home he met an old man that he would describe as “odd,” to say the least. He gave him a pair of shoes and said “here, take these shoes. They will guarantee you never lose again.”

“How does he know I lost?” Kageyama thought, confused. He checked out the shoes and decided to take them after the old man insisted many times for him to have them.

At home, he thought about the strange old man that gave him the shoes, but they did look really cool so he decided to use them in his next game.

“They work, they work!” Thought Kageyama as he jumped with joy. He had just won a game 50 25 and scored 20 points!

Oikawa, who is Chuck's best friend, scoffed “lucky game, loser.” Again, Kageyama said nothing and walked away.

On the way home, he saw the old man again in an alleyway and didn’t walk to him, but the man came to him.

“How were my shoes?” the old man asked.

“I love them, they were amazing!” said Kageyama.

“Thank you, take these new ones, they'll make you even better.” But in reality these shoes were not magic like the others. The first ones were just to boost his confidence. With this second pair, he will perform like they are magic.

After the game, he scored 35 points and carried his team to the win. Oikawa and Chuck said nothing this time and Kageyama again walked away.

This time, on the way home, Kageyama saw the old man and walked up to him and he said, “these shoes are even better than the last ones. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome young man, but these shoes were fake.”

“What?” said Kageyama.

“Well, you see…the first ones were really magic to boost your confidence, the second ones were fake so you could perform well while believing in the shoes, but really it was your true potential that carried you.”

Kageyama now understood that he should never let a bad game get him down.

The End.

Bashir Abdullahi, Grade 5 Meadowbrook Elementary School, Golden Valley Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Pushed to the Limits

I could feel the cold air on my face. As always, there was no sun and the reason for no sun is quite simple. I live somewhere you would never guess. Hello, I’m Andy Collins I live at Fort Miles in Delaware, specifically a World War Two retired bomb shelter. It's a nice place small but roomy for three people: my dad, my little sister Clara and I. My Mom died when I was young and Clara was just a baby. It was hard for all of us, but especially Dad. After Mom died, he started going to work more. He is Sargent Josh Collins and he is a communication specialist at a base about two miles away.

One morning in August, I was getting ready when my Dad called, “Andy I’m leaving.” I was distracted so I just said, I love you Dad,” and he headed off to work. But right then and there, I felt something bad in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I knew I had to find out. I had to take Clara to school, but I just couldn’t focus so I decided to do something for the first time ever. I was going to skip school. Even though I had never skipped school before, I knew what to do. After I dropped Clara off at school, I started walking to the base. After a little while, I started to hear voices. It sounded like my Dad’s boss, General Cliff Pierson. I couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but then I heard the worst case scenario, “he will never see it coming” said General Pierson. It was then I knew that my Dad was in trouble. I started running back towards the school. I picked up Clara, we ran back home, then I went next door to see my best friend, James. As soon as he answered, he knew something was wrong. I told him about what I heard from General Cliff and he agreed with my suspicions. We knew we had to do something. It took all night to plan and James slept over at our house.

My dad sometimes stays overnight at the base, so I wasn’t super worried when he didn’t come home. And Clara was used to it too, but usually he calls to say goodnight. He didn’t do it this time, but I didn’t say anything to Clara because I didn’t want her to worry. The next day while Clara was playing with dolls before school, someone knocked at the door. I thought it was James’ mom to walk with us to school. But it was my Dad’s best friend who he knew from the base, Sargent Robert Smith. H e said, “kids we just got news your dad has gone missing.” I knew something was wrong. I invited Robert in, and we talked for a while. Clara sat on my lap as he talked to me. She said she was fine, but I could tell she was crying. Robert told me that General Cliff had left the base right after my dad had disappeared. He didn’t say anything just that he was taking some time off and he was going to leave Robert in charge. No one saw my dad for one hour between the time he got done with daily training and went into his office. This must have been when he went missing. General Cliff was on his lunch break during that time which was even more suspicious. Then Robert told me something I was not expecting. He said that I needed to try to rescue my dad. He needed to take care of the base. He said, “Andy you need to protect Clara, but your dad is in great danger and you have to help him and find out where he is.”

After he left, I put Clara to bed and then started planning with James. He slept over again. While James looked at maps, I brought out a small duffel bag and packed clothes for Clara and I. I also included our most important items, some packaged food from our supply and our family savings. James packed his bag, then we got some sleep.

In the morning, we woke up Clara and dressed in our warmest clothes. I grabbed the family cell phone and our map of the area with all the hiding places or nooks outlined where

see how beautiful

my dad might be. James was a bit worried about finding a missing person who is in the army, but then I told James what Robert told me. “Your dad is in great danger you have to help him then James agreed to go on with the plan because he wanted to find my dad. There were five spots that we planned on checking. My dad had taken me on his military route before, but the places were pretty far apart so it was going to be a long journey.

The first spot was a little shed under Cape Helopen pier which from our house was only ten minutes walking. When we arrived, there was ice cream for one dollar so I got Clara some. While Clara was enjoying her raspberry ice cream, me and James checked out the shed, nothing but driftwood. Then James went pale; he saw something on the wall. It looked like a marker and it was very messily written. But what it said was the most interesting. It said, “check the woods.” I realized then it looked like how my dad would write. Then I said to James, “maybe he’s leaving us a clue.” James agreed although he was very nervous about trusting this mysterious phrase because we didn’t know if the writing was actually my dad’s. Even though this path was unknown, we had to try and take it. Robert had told me last night after Clara went to bed and right before he shut the door to leave, “try anything to make sure you find him. You have to help him Andy.” So, we had to trust it was him. Clara finished her ice cream, then we went on. I looked at the map to the nearest woods. I could see on the map the nearest woods was on the edge of Maryland, which was three days away.

We started walking along the road towards Maryland. After a little while we saw someone I thought looked a bit familiar, but I knew it was dangerous so I told James and Clara to duck under a patch of trees while I peeked around the corner.

Standing right there was General Cliff Pierson. He had something in his hand, and he started walking towards the river. I told James and Clara to stay quiet and follow me. It looked like he was going to the same place we were going, so we just kept quiet and followed him. I could tell James was extremely worried that we were following the General, but I told him it was going to be okay.

After a couple hours of walking, we came upon a river. Clara had been complaining about being hungry for a little while, so I suggested that we stop and have some lunch. We found a patch of bushes and sat down to eat. We had bread and butter with some ham and then I packed all the food back up in the duffel bag. We saw the General cross the river in a little rowboat. I realized that he was crossing the river to Maryland, and we had to follow him, but if we went right then he would see us so we had to watch him cross the river before we went over. Once he got over, we were ready to go, but we didn’t have a way of getting there. I had James and Clara hold our things while I looked around for something to use to get across. Then I saw it!

I knew it was dangerous, but we had to follow him or else I might never see my dad again. I tied the duffel bag straps to my waist. James tied his bag to him and Clara held the map and put the cell phone in her sweatshirt pocket. We got ready to swing. I had found a long vine that snapped off a willow tree. I tugged on it to see if it was strong enough to hold our weight, then I tied it to a rock and looped it over a tree branch to make a rope to swing across. I told Clara to go first. I tied her up to the vine then I told her Clara once you get across untie yourself then swing the vine back and duck under the bush. She was a little nervous, but she thought mostly that it was going to be fun. She jumped, made it over, and pushed

see how beautiful I am…

the vine back over and ducked under the bush. I told James, “you go next” and tied him into the vine. Then he said, “Andy I’m going to be sick.” He got really scared. I told him that we had to do this, that he was a part of something bigger. Then he agreed. He looked a little pale, but then he jumped. I knew he wanted to scream, but we couldn’t risk the General hearing us because we didn’t know how far away he was. When he made it over he untied himself right away. Then he ducked with Clara behind the bush after pushing the vine back to me. I tied myself up. The weight of the duffel made me more heavy, but I thought it would be fine. Little did I know that this was the moment that things would go very wrong.

When I jumped, my foot touched the ground on the other side then slipped away. I stopped swinging and I heard a crack that sounded not good. I panicked. I had to do something or else the tree branch would fall on me. I untied myself from the vine and stepped on a rock near the other side. I had James come over to the rock then I reached out and said to James, “come get the bag,” once he grabbed it, he ducked back under the bush. I had to think fast. I could hear another crack. There was another rock not too far away, so I jumped. I got a little wet, but it was fine. Then all the sudden the tree branch fell.

There was a giant loud boom then it fell right next to me. I climbed up one of the branches, stepped on to the base of the branch, and crawled across it to the other side. Then ducked under the bush with James and Clara. While me and James were thinking about what to do next Clara said, “Andy there is a man over there by that apple tree.” I looked over and it was none other than General Cliff Pierson.

We had to start following him again, so once he started moving, we followed. We had to sneak behind trees and bushes because it was a small area and easy to see someone behind you. We came to an entrance to a small wood, and I knew we were here. We made it. I was going to see my dad again. We just had to get to him. The General kept walking so we walked with him. He came upon a shed then I heard, “I just want to talk to them.” The General opened the shed door and there he was my dad. The first thing I did was tell Clara and James to hide behind a bush. Then I told Clara to give me the cell phone from her pocket. I called 911. I also called Robert and told him I found my dad. He said that he would tell everyone at the office General Cliff was not to be trusted. We were going to get my dad back. After about twenty minutes the police arrived. The General heard them, but didn’t do anything. He snapped the door of the shed shut. The police came over to check out the scene. They put handcuffs on the General, opened the shed door and found my dad. They untied the ropes on him and let him come over to us. Me and Clara gave him a giant hug and then we went home. James saw his parents and I think he is going to stay away from the base for a long time. This experience taught me that my bravery and courage has no limits and that is how we found my dad, Sargent Josh Collins.

Hadley Powers, Grade 5

Meadowbrook Elementary School, Golden Valley Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

see how beautiful I am…

Lexi’s Adventure

Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Lexi, she was short, but lived in a tall house. Her family was very wealthy. Her house was twenty stories high. Lexi was twelve years old and in 6th grade. She had just gotten home from school to her mom, while her dad was still at work.

After her afternoon savory and sweet snack of cinnamon and sugar toast, Lexi yelled, “Mom, where are my shoes? I want to go play outside with Kylee.”

Kylee is eleven, soon to be twelve next month. She is Lexi’s best friend. They like the same colors, which are orange and green, and they have been friends since third grade.

Her Mom replied, “I don’t know. Check in your room or on your feet!” Lexi looked down at her feet with confusion. Lexi says, “They aren’t on my feet and I have checked my room.” Where could they be? She wondered as she gazed out the open bedroom window. Her mom reminded her she recently took a nap on the couch and asked if she was wearing them then?

Lexi said, “I was wearing them until I heard a fluttering, but they weren’t sitting on the floor or on a bench. They were flying! She thought she was dreaming. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief and said, “Yep, they are flying alright.” As she went to try to capture them out of the air, they flew out of the room. She quickly followed them down the stairs onto the first floor, puzzled with confusion and curiosity.

Next thing you know the shoes flew out the front door and down the street barely missing a policeman. Lucky, he joined in chasing the shoes. Together they ran past Lexi’s teacher’s house where she was raking the leaves. She joined in chasing while still holding her rake.

The shoes sped down 29th Avenue to Main Street where there are many businesses. The first place they flew through was the art shop where they got splattered with yellow and red paint. They flew out of the art shop and down the street past the fire department. Two firemen decided to join in chasing the shoes. Now five people were chasing them. They were covered in yellow and red paint.

They continued down Main Street and crashed through the front window of the floral shop where they got covered with daisies and petunia petals. At this point the wind was picking up and Lexi saw a tornado up ahead. She began running faster, getting closer to the shoes while they were all getting closer to the tornado. Just as they were ready to grab the shoes, Lexi was swept up by the tornado. Lucky for the others they hid in a ditch for safety!

Up, up and away she went high above the city while getting tossed and turned in a storm of dirt and leaves. She realized she was soaring back towards her house. With her shoes in her arms, she was thrown out of the tornado and tossed through the open window of her house and onto the couch. She woke up and thought it was a dream, but as she looked down, she was covered in yellow and red paint, leaves, dirt, and flower petals.

At least I have my shoes back! she thought. “From now on, my shoes sit in a locked kennel and I keep the windows and front door shut!” she said. “And now I’m going to shower...” The end!

Martine Reese, Grade 5 Roseau Elementary School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

Left a t Snowy Alps

Abby and Dani were sisters. Their class was taking a field trip to Snowy Alps Ski Resort. Abby and Dani were very excited to go because this ski hill had a new ski jump. But when they arrived, their teacher said they could not go on the front side of the hill. That meant no ski jump today. Abby and Dani were so sad, but they came up with a not so bright idea. They could sneak out and go just one time. So, they crept over, jumped on a chairlift, and rode up the hill to the tippy top. You could see the whole town from the top.

“So, who’s going first?” said Abby.

“Let’s go together on the count of three,” said Dani nervously.

“Okay, 3,2,1 go!” whispered the girls. Abby raced down the jump without Dani. Abby started sliding like a penguin on ice. Finally, she hit the bottom. Then Dani had no choice but to go. She was worried about her sister. Dani started to roll head over heels like a giant runaway snowball. When Dani reached the bottom there stood their teacher, Mr. Brown.

“Abby and Dani, go wait in the bus until it is time to go. Maybe you will learn your lesson for next time,” Mr. Brown said sternly. Abby and Dani headed for the bus, and sat in the empty seats.

“Why does Mr. Brown have to be so mean? It's just a jump! This field trip would be even more fun if he let us go on it,” pointed out Abby.

“Hey, what if we sneak out again?” suggested Dani.

“I don't want to go off that jump again,” protested Abby.

“I was not thinking about the jump,” said Dani. “Let’s just go skiing!”

“Let's sneak out the back of the bus,” said Abby.

They made their way to the back side of the hill. Once they arrived, they could see their class on the bunny hill jumps and the small slopes. “We have to stay in the front, or else Mr. Brown will get suspicious,” suggested Abby. So, they skied on over to the chairlift and rode up the slopes.

“Let’s go down this first one Abby,” called Dani.

“Okay,” Abby shouted back. And down went the sisters moving like professional skiers. They did a couple more runs and got so caught up in skiing they did not hear Mr. Brown say, “Time to go back to school!” After one more slope, they realized they should start heading back to the bus.

“Our class is probably going to be back soon,” said Dani. But just then, they noticed the bus was gone!

“Did the bus just vanish out of thin air?” said Abby. They went over to the bunny hill and the small slopes. Their class wasn't there.

“They left without us!” screamed the sisters.

“We have to tell someone so we can get back to school,” suggested Dani.

“You’re right. Um, maybe a worker?” said Abby.

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

“Attention all skiers, the hills will close in 30 minutes,” announced the speakers.

“Whatever it is, we have to do it fast,” said Dani. They ran like cheetahs over to the ticket booth.

“Excuse me, we were left here by accident. Do you mind calling our school?” murmured Abby.

“What’s the number?” said the man.

“224 957 6556,” said Dani.

“Hello. I’m calling from Snowy Alps Ski Resort. There are two girls named Abby and Dani here. They said they were left behind. Can someone come pick them up? Thank you, I will tell them right away.”

“Your mom is on her way,” said the worker. Abby and Dani went to sit on a bench closest to the parking lot.

“What are we going to tell mom?” said Dani.

“I have not thought that far,” said Abby. “I think we should tell the truth. We have lied too much today,” replied Abby. 15 minutes later, their mom pulled up into the parking lot.

“Oh girls, thank goodness you are okay!” cried their mom as she hugged each of them. “How did you get left here?” asked their mother.

“It’s a long story,” they said while exchanging glances.

The End.

H. H., Grade 4

Southview Elementary School, Waconia

Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

“You can tell me on the way home,” said their mom. It was the longest car ride in the history of car rides.

Cristy’s Bad Day

It was sunny out and the first day of 4th grade for Cristy. She was very happy, until…JERKY Jemma and BRATTY Brianna came. Cristy’s head came out of the clouds and dropped down to her feet. In her head she said, “Uhoh.”

Jerky Jemma stood there and laughed at her. Cristy just kept walking while slurping her orange soda. Brianna ran up, took her orange soda, and took a drink. “Ewe!” she said and then poured it on Cristy.

Instead of going into school, Cristy called her mom to come and pick her up. She was so upset that she didn’t show up at school for three days. When she came back to school, they tried to bully her again. She told them they were not cool and that they were losers. Then everybody stopped liking them and thought Cristy was cool for saying that.

Jemma and Brianna didn’t come to school for a whole week, and when they came back Cristy bullied them. It was sad, but she thought they deserved it. She was making fun of them for the clothes they wore. It was then when the principal said as bad as a tornado siren over the speakers, “CRISTY JONES TO THE OFFICE! NOW!”

She thought WHATEVER… as she walked there. But then the principal asked why she was bullying Jemma and Brianna. There was no excuse, and he called her mom to come and pick her up. Cristy tried to refuse to leave, but she had no chance against the principal and her mom. When her mom took her home, she was mad and told Cristy to do things like wash the dishes, clean her room, dust the windows, do the laundry, and MORE! Cristy was so angry her face looked like a red tomato! When she finished, her mother told her to

walk the dog. Ugh! She thought. When will this end? She was ready to just eat dinner and go to bed.

She couldn’t stop thinking about things she couldn’t control. While sitting there biting her nails, she fell asleep thinking hard about everything. She woke up at 11 P.M. and couldn’t fall back to sleep. She grabbed her white fuzzy jacket and climbed out her window. She went to a tree and climbed it. She sat in the tree, bored. Then she grabbed her cell phone. The only thing she could do was sit there listening to music. She then fell asleep, but only for a little bit. She woke up to go and sleep in her real bed.

In the morning she said, “Mom, I’m heading to school, but she really went to…a tree. Why a tree? She likes trees because they are calming. But still. A tree. A tree. A TREE! Days went by. Cristy was still in that tree. Finally, she went back to school and said sorry to Jerky Jemma and Bratty Brianna. After that they became friends.

But still nobody knows what that tree was about.

Harper Doyen, Grade 4

Hilltop Elementary School, Henderson Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

Hibernation

“Can you tell us a story, please, before bed?” the children asked.

“Okay, here is your story, but after it, it is time for bed. Here we go,” replied Dad.

It was a beautiful day in the forest, with snow on the ground and trees. BANG BANG BANG! “Wake up, bear, it is spring! Time to get up!” the hunters chuckled. The bear woke up instantly with all that racket coming from outside his den. With all the snow coming down, it was hard for the bear to see the hunters. The bear got even madder because he had snow all over his fur. Worse yet, his shaggy fur got in his eyes. This was not one of his best days.

Five minutes later, the hunters left and the bear wondered how he could fall back to sleep. “Maybe I could count sheep,” he thought. “1, 2,3, 4, 5, 6, 7…This isn’t going to work…8, 9, 10…100. Nope, that didn’t work. I am not tired.” The bear started to get worried that he would not be able to hibernate this year. However, he kept telling himself that he would fall asleep sooner or later.

Now the bear tried to close his eyes while lying on his back to see if that would work. But, like counting the sheep, it didn’t work. The bear was getting pretty upset now. The bear thought, “Maybe food could help me think of an idea.”

He ate some roots for a bit and remembered that he could go on a walk like he did in spring and summer. If that didn’t work, he may have to give up on hibernation for this year. So the bear went on a walk, which soon turned into a jog and

then a run. When the bear stopped to take a breath, he turned around and stared into the eyes of the hunters. There was still a little daylight left, so he could see them. Unfortunately, it was like looking through a window with snow on it. The hunters were huddling and talking to each other about what they saw.

The first hunter asked the second hunter, “Is that the bear we woke up? What is he doing here?”

“WAIT!” How did the bear meet up with the hunters, Dad?” the girl asked.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t the one who made up the story. Your great great grandfather made the story. Now just listen, okay?” replied Dad.

“But it doesn’t make sense, Dad!” the little boy shouted.

“Just shush, okay! You wanted a story. I’m giving it to you. So be quiet!” demanded Dad.

“I don’t know if that is the same bear or not, but right now we have to run! You were the one making most of the noise. Maybe it followed us and now it is all your fault!” snapped the second hunter to the first.

“Oh, boy! That bear is fast!” the hunters quickly yelled at the same time. The hunters ran for their lives and fell a couple of times because the snow was really deep. Since the bear recognized them, he chased them for payback. From all that running the chubby bear lost some energy and was getting very hungry. But the bear was still not thinking that

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

he would hunt. He didn’t like to hunt. So he went back to his den to see if he had any more roots to eat.

Of course, he didn’t have any left because he had eaten them all while he was trying to brainstorm an idea to go to sleep. Then he discovered what he needed to do next. He was going to have to hunt after all. He was a smart bear and hoped that after he caught up to the hunters he could follow them to find berries to eat. Since he didn’t know much about winter, he thought there would have been a lot of food available when he got out of his den. When he got out, it was the complete opposite: no food in sight.

But eventually he found some berries far away from his den and somehow found his way back to his den and ate the sweet treat that he deserved. Then he fell asleep. He fell asleep in November and woke up in March. All the snow had cleared. Now he needed to find more food because the little he had left before falling asleep was rotting and smelled like stinky socks.

“Hey, Dad,” interrupted the little girl, “how did time go so fast?”

“Just be quiet and listen to the story!” yelled Dad.

With his food rotting in his den, he found honey, berries, and nuts to eat. Now that was a feast! He wasn’t hungry anymore. While he was outside in the fresh air, the bear looked around to make sure the hunters weren’t there. They weren’t, so he went on a little stroll. While he walked, he told himself, “This is the best hibernation I ever had. It was really fun and I had a good workout. I saw snow for the first time. I

also found the best berries I ever tasted.” The hunters never bothered him again.

“There, now you got your story. Time for bed,” said Dad.

But the children were already fast asleep on Dad’s lap.

Megan Lewis, Grade 5

Southview Elementary School, Waconia

Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Friendship

It was a nice sunny day, but when Nicole got off the bus, she was sad and mad because her best friend had moved away to Florida! When she opened the door, she tossed her backpack on the ground. Her mom asked, “how was school, hon?” Nicole said, “It was fine.” Then her mom asked, “are you okay?” Nicole yelled, “I’M FINE!” She stormed up the stairs into her room and screamed into her pillow.

Then the next day, she walked to her classroom and the teacher said, “there is a new student joining us today, her name is Abby.” Abby said, “hi, my name is Abby.” The teacher asked her to sit next to Nicole. Nicole was as quiet as a mouse.

One month later, another new student joined the class. The door creaked, CREAAAAK it was Emily! Nicole’s best friend! But Nicole was quiet because Abby, the new student from before, is now her new best friend! At recess, Emily walked up to Nicole and Abby, Emily was as mad as an angry cat. She said, “who’s this?” very angrily. Then Nicole said calmly, “this is Abby my best friend.” Then Abby said, “hi!” very happily. Then Emily said disgustedly, “hi?” Nicole said, “why did you say hi like that?” Emily shouted, “I THOUGHT I WAS YOUR ONLY BEST FRIEND!” Nicole remained quiet.

Emily said, “I thought I was your best friend.” Nicole said, “You left, and Abby saw me looking sad and she wanted to be friends.” Emily said, “because I left you had to replace me?!” Then Nicole and Emily started to argue, it was as loud as thunder.

Abby thought what can make them stop arguing Abby saw a tree and climbed the tree. Abby looked down at the girls

arguing. Abby thought to herself, maybe if I scare them they will quit arguing. So, Abby snuck out on the tree limb right above the girls. She flipped upside down, and yelled “BOO!” and made the silliest face. The girls laughed and laughed.

Abby climbed down and asked, “why can’t we all be friends?” Nicole and Emily said together, “I’m sorry.” Then hugged each other. Abby, Nicole, and Emily all became friends. From that point on the girls were inseparable.

Kallie Price, Grade 4

Hilltop Elementary School, Henderson Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

see how beautiful I am…

Charlie’s School

Charlie sat on a stump, feeling sorry for herself. She had a lot to feel sorry about.

First, her grandma and grandpa had moved in. She enjoyed them plenty, but they were getting older, and it was harder for them to keep up a house all by themselves. Her grandmother could make the best tea in the town, and her grandfather was a fine fur trapper, but they had to make room for them in the tiny sifter household. Last night, Charlie’s mother told her and Ren, Charlie’s 5 year old little brother, they would share a small loft room. Charlie was positive that whole people could go missing in Ren’s piles of things. Charlie was a very tidy person in general, so living with her brother would be torture. The only time she really enjoyed him was when he drew. The colors and shapes flew on to the pages. His bunnies looked real, his horses ready to leave behind the paper and run to the ends of the earth. He drew better than Charlie, who once drew a dolphin that looked like a deformed cat.

Second, it was about time for snow. It was just nature, Charlie knew. It snowed every winter and there was nothing she could do about it. But it got very cold in her little village, nestled into the mountains of Alaska. Many inhabitants of the remote little place had livestock. Charlie’s family had chickens, horses, goats, and pigs. Tromping down to the river many times a day for water felt ten times longer in the winter. One of the men would go out and cut a hole in the ice so water could be reached, and then everyone hustled to get it before the hole iced over again. And the snow! There was so much of it! It took 3 times as long to walk to the barn, plodding through several feet of snow. The year before, Charlie had dug out small tunnels under the snow to many

places the barn, the river, town. But they had all collapsed by the next morning, for multiple reasons. First, no one knew where the tunnels were. Many got stepped on by very surprised villagers. Second, the next few days got warmer, because it was approaching spring. As the snow got warmer, it got weaker and slushier and broke. Charlie was very disappointed.

In the dead of winter, sometimes they could go weeks without any visitors.

Now, Charlie would have kept pouting if her best friend Hank Armenias hadn’t showed up. His crazy brown hair was flying every direction possible. His glasses were crooked, his face smudged with dirt, probably from climbing the steep cliff to get there, Charlie knew. She smiled. Good ol’ Hank. Personally, she’d been hoping he had some candy. The hardware store had excellent molasses.

“Hey, Charlie,” Hank said, catching his breath. “Wanna see who can milk goats faster?”

Charlie scoffed. “We did that yesterday, Hank.” (She still had a bit of her bad mood left.)

Hank looked hurt. “Oh, right. Wanna race horses?”

“Nah.”

“Hmm…” Hank pretended to be stumped. “Wanna practice our letters?”

Charlie lit up. “Sure! Let’s see if we have the entire alphabet yet. I got a couple more letters, they were...um...Oh yeah! W

and X. I’ll show you how to write them. Oh, and maybe we could save paper and we could shape them with leaves instead!”

Hank smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “I knew you’d do it,” he chimed.

Charlie’s mother had always told Charlie an education was important. “Learn, learn, learn, Charlie. It will make your life easier and better.” So, she did, her mother never lied. But there wasn’t a school. There weren’t enough kids for the government to care. That’s why a birth was so special. Everyone flocked to the house of the lucky couple who had the baby to congratulate them. But there were only 9, or maybe 10 kids. Yes, probably 10, thought Charlie, but what difference did it make? The government would only build a school if there were at least 15 children. Not there yet. Old man Jhon knew how to read and write. He would read the Sunday newspaper aloud in his shop for anyone who wanted to listen. Charlie was always there, just like Hank and many other people. Unfortunately, old man Jhon had passed away in his sleep the week before. He had been a very old man, Charlie reminded herself, almost 100 years old, and nobody lived forever. But she still missed going to his shop on Sundays to have the paper read aloud.

“Charlie! Chaaarrrlllieee? Hello?” Hank snapped her back to attention. “Hey, you drifted off for a minute there. One second you were fine, and the next you had a blank look on your face.” Hank grinned. “I thought I lost you.” Charlie shook her head and elbowed him gently. “You goofball!” She laughed.

That night, lying in her bed, Charlie was almost asleep. After a delicious meal of her mother’s warm soup, Charlie’s favorite by far, her eyes closed, her breathing close to the rhythm of her brother’s, and all was well. Grandma and grandpa were discussing recent events with Charlie’s parents — the mayor’s wife had twins, Meghan and Alfred, how it was becoming winter yet again, the faraway politics in Washington D.C., so many miles from Alaska. A warm glowing feeling filled the air, and Charlie too. Moments before she drifted off to sleep, an idea hit her, and there was no telling what she could dream up.

A few days later, Charlie confronted Hank about “the idea.” She had waited to tell even her best friend because she still only had a hazy idea of what she wanted, and as previously stated, Charlie was a very neat and tidy person in general. She wanted to have it all sorted out in her mind first, before telling someone else, who would most likely give suggestions and tell others and make it a bit confusing again. And anyway, that was just how she did things.

“Hey, um, Hank?” Charlie confronted him after lunch one day. “Don’t you wish we had a school?”

Hank shrugged casually. “Sure,” he said.

“Well,” Charlie continued, “I had an idea. What if, I’m not really sure how to say this, but what if we like, made our own school. For a little bit we could just catch everybody up to where we are, with letters, what sounds they make, and numbers, and how much they represent. And then, we could ask around the town and if anyone was willing to teach the next steps and if they wanted to teach other subjects. We

see how beautiful I am…

Well, Hank had clearly not been expecting that. “Wha-I mean I mean, how…” He trailed off for a moment, but then came back. “Well, sure! What the heck, I’m in! We could have Ren make some posters and then print them off, or run an ad in the newspaper…” As Hank went on with his ideas, Charlie felt grateful and relieved. Good ol’ Hank, she thought. Good ol’ Hank.

To be fair, it was a team effort. Charlie’s mother was especially enthusiastic about the whole idea. She even donated money to help pay for the books, paper, pencils, desks, and other supplies. “Use it wisely,” she said, winked, and handed it to Charlie. Hank’s parents also gave a bit of money.

The week after, Charlie brought it up with Hank and got everything planned out, Charlie and Ren bargained. Ren would make the posters, even a few different versions of it, as long as Charlie ate Ren’s vegetables at dinner. Once again, dinner was another way Charlie and Ren were different. While Charlie didn’t mind eating broccoli, carrots, spinach, green beans, stuff like that, Ren absolutely despised them. His idea of a perfect dinner was something like a roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and to top it all off, many slices of their mother’s apple pie, which they really only had on Christmas day.

Mrs. Parka had gone to boarding school and knew everything from math to reading and writing to geography. And even though she was a busy woman, she had offered to stop by for even half an hour each day and give a lesson. Of

don’t need to wait for the government to build a school for us!”

course, after being in boarding school, Mrs. Parka was a strict teacher, but also very smart and explained everything very nicely.

Charlie’s mother and father also wanted to help with teaching important things, so it was arranged that Charlie’s mother would show the girls to sew, cook, and do housework, which the women usually did. Meanwhile, Charlie’s father would take the boys outside and show them how to set traps, fish, and skin animals. The skins could be turned into clothes by the women, or they could be taken to the market and sold, for a good price, too.

And finally, old man Jhon’s house was donated to being the schoolhouse. After Old man Jhon died, his house was left to his children. But they all had homes of their own and didn’t really need an extra house to care for. Ned, Jhon’s eldest son, said the new school was the perfect use for the house, and it was a nice place.

After all this had happened, a few things about a month later changed.

First, it must be addressed that there never was a school in the first place, so very few adults knew how to read and write. Ones who did, though, were strongly encouraged to have a job that required reading and writing, to use their talent. But still, many adults didn’t have an education. So, gradually, the grown-ups would stay for school, too. No one minded. But they started to learn also, just a bit at a time, they would learn and practice, too. So it ended up that this school taught everyone, no matter what age.

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Second, every year on December 31st an award was given to the person who helped the town the most during that year. If you were hoping to win, you could enter at the town hall. Then, on December 30th, the day before the winner was announced, an election was held and everyone was allowed to vote.

This year, there was Jeanne Marshome who raised money for the poor, and Auderey Platinum, whom Charlie didn’t really like all that much, had spent a good amount of time picking up litter. But there was also Charlie, who started an entire school, for the whole village to attend, and had brightened the futures of many people. So, when December 31st finally came, Charlie wasn’t expecting to win. Actually, she had come to congratulate the winner, who was awarded a trophy and some prize money, even though she had entered her own name, just for fun. It started out just as it had every year. A speech from the mayor, and food and drinks all around. Everyone was talking, especially about the fact that yet another baby had been born, and this time, to Charlie’s family. The little one was tiny, only 6.2 lbs., but just too adorable! She was named Kiana. She had been born a few weeks earlier, and Charlie just adored her!

Then it was time to announce the winner. Sandra Boppers climbed the stage. “Ladies and gentleman,” she started, “We’ve had a wonderful year, with many generous people spending their time making the world a better place. And what you’ve all been waiting for, our winner is Charlie Sifter!” As an applause broke out, Charlie couldn’t believe her ears. Her? The winner?

Sandra waved her onto the stage. Charlie was stunned.

“Thank you all, so much,” Charlie began, “You’ve all been so kind. But I didn’t do this alone. I have so many people to thank. First, my friend Hank Armineas. He helped to create the school. And my parents were so supportive and taught a few extra subjects. And Mrs. Parka, who also taught subjects and so many other people.” The crowd applauded once again. Charlie looked into the crowd. Then she saw Ren’s disapproving expression. “What about me?” He questioned Charlie. She sighed and then grinned while saying, “And my brother Ren Sifter for making the posters.” All of a sudden, Ren was on the stage next to Charlie. “I’m Ren!” He informed the crowd. “And I made the posters!” That got a big laugh.

The End.

Olivia Davis, Grade 5 Southview Elementary School, Waconia Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

The Wonder World of Fairies

Lucy and Jenna were playing in the woods. Lucy told Jenna to get more sticks. *Scratch scratch* went Lucy's shoes in the tree. Lucy was balancing sticks to make a platform in the tree. Lucy could smell the wood that she was using. “Where did Jenna go?” she thought. “She probably is getting lots of wood. I'll go help her.” She thought as she climbed down from the tree. *Crunch* went the leaves under her feet.

It had been raining before they came out to play, so Lucy could see Jenna's footprints. She followed the footprints. It was getting dark, so Lucy was starting to worry about her little sister. Lucy started calling Jenna’s name, “Jenna... Jenna...” No answer. Lucy called her name again. Still, no answer. She had gone so far into the woods Lucy could not tell where she was anymore. Lucy could no longer find Jenna’s footprints.

It was pitch dark out now and Lucy had to keep her hands up so she wouldn't hit anything. Then Lucy saw a light! “Is it Jenna?” thought Lucy. But the light was not yellow or orange or not even blue... it was PURPLE! “Why is that light purple and why is it in the middle of the woods?” thought Lucy. She started walking towards it...but when she got close, it went out! She found red hot coals where the light had been. Lucy picked up a dry stick and put it in the hot coals. A couple of seconds later, the tip of the stick lit on fire. Lucy could now see a cave nearby in the light of her burning stick. She started to feel some rain. *Drip drop* went the rain. The rain was cold. It felt like needles on Lucy’s skin. She started walking towards the cave to get out of the rain.

Once she was inside the cave, Lucy could see shimmering crystals on the walls of the cave. She walked further into the

cave realizing that the ground was going downhill. It was all dark except for her almost burnt-out fire stick. After more walking, she came to a big door. “What is this?” thought Lucy, “Did Jenna go in here?” She had walked so far, she could not see the entrance anymore, so she pushed the door open.

A flash of light hit her face like a big wave of water! She started to see again. The grass was green as the summer leaves, and it looked like Lucy was in a beautiful fairy garden. She saw a majestic castl e in front of her. “Maybe whoever is in there can tell me where I am.” Lucy thought, so she knocked on the door with no answer. She knocked again... no answer. She knocked one last time and finally the door opened and a short, frightened looking elf answered the door.

“H h hi,” the little elf said. “What can I help you with?”

“I'm wondering where I am?” said Lucy.

“Come, come.” said the little elf.

They walked down a hallway and came to a door. The elf took a key out of his pocket and put it in the lock. The door swung open and there was a map. “You are in Fairy Wonderland,” said the elf. Lucy walked up to the map. The elf pointed to a drawing of a castle. “You are here,” he said. “Me has to go,” he said in a funny voice and then he left. Lucy looked over the map and everything was colorful, all except for a dark place at the corner of the map. The little elf came in again.

When he saw what Lucy was looking at, he said, “That is the dark realm. We must never go there for it is far too

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

dangerous for us! There is good and bad here. Queen Elizabeth is Queen of Good, but her evil sister was jealous and became Queen of Bad. We have the Crystal of Life on the good side, but if they take it and bring it to the dark side, all will be gone, and evil will rule the fairy Wonderland…”

The little elf's eyes got as big as saucers. He was looking at the window on the other side of the room. There was a Dark Mist outside of the window. “Come with me. We need to hide!” he said.

“The Dark Queen has cast a mist over Fairy Wonderland. We must hide and not let it touch us or we will fall under an evil spell. Follow me, we'll go to the basement.”

The little frightened elf and Lucy went down five flights of stairs. Finally, they got to a door. Inside, there were cobwebs everywhere. “We are protected down here. Every once in a while, the Dark Queen cast a dark mist over Fairy Wonderland,” the elf explained. “Usually, she attacks after it, so the mist is a distraction. We should be safe down here. The Guards will go by every station needed to protect the Crystal. We have always been prepared and we never let the Dark Queen get the Crystal of Life, but it's been really hard to guard because there's a sickness going around. A lot of guards are not healthy enough to fight, so we've just been hiding whenever the mist comes. All of the guards that can fight go out whenever they can. But, the sickness got the best of some of our guards and there's only like three guards out right now. We must be prepared and we must protect the crystal!” said the little elf.

“What is this? And why is it here?” said Lucy.

“Is there anything I can do?” said Lucy.

“I don't know,” the elf said. The little elf coughed. “I'm afraid I might have the sickness. I cannot help you anymore. I would not like it if you got sick too. I will tell you if there's anything we can do about it in a letter, okay?”

“Okay,” said Lucy. The elf left. Lucy sat down, she felt depressed and scared. Everything was going wrong. “This mess is not good; people are getting sick.” Lucy thought. She was numb. What was she going to do? She felt like crying. About 20 minutes later the fog started to clear up. A note slipped under the door. It looked like it was from the elf! It read: Dear Lucy,

The Mist has cleared up. We are allowed to go upstairs now, but do not go outside. I have to stay in my room so you will be on your own. I found another elf to help you. He's waiting upstairs. Good Luck.

Lucy opened the door and nobody was there. She went up all 5 flights of stairs she had come down on. There, like the elf said, was another elf, but he wasn't a small elf. It was a big tough looking elf!

“The Queen wants to see you,” he said in a big booming voice.

“Okay…” said Lucy.

“Follow me,” said the elf. They started walking down another long corridor. They got to a door. It was a very fancy

see how beautiful I am…

door, with diamonds encrusted all over it. “You can go in,” the big elf said.

Lucy opened the door and entered a large room with a throne. Sitting on the throne was a beautiful mystical woman wearing a long flowing gown. She looked like an angel.

“Hello,” she said in a voice as sweet as honey.

“Hi,'' said Lucy, “why did you want to see me?”

“I think Georgie the little elf has told you about this mess and hopefully he brought you down to the basement.” said the Queen.

“Yes, he did, so why do you need me?” asked Lucy.

The Queen replied, “Well, he said that you wanted to help, and there is a way. But it's a little dangerous and you're going to have to get out of the castle to do it. You're going to have to go to the Dark Realm.”

Lucy said, “tell me what it is and I'm up for it! I want to help save this Fairy Wonderland. Also, the reason I'm here is because I believe that my sister, Jenna, is here. Have you seen her? She has brown hair and a jumper on.”

The Queen looked worried for a second and then said, “well, I did see someone like her come in, but she was overtaken by the Mist... I have a feeling she is at the Dark Castle. I'm sorry, but I don't know if we can save her.”

“I will do anything to save her. She’s my sister!” Lucy said. “I care about her, and I have to bring her home.”

“Okay, I understand,” said the queen. “There is one way you can save Jenna, but it's going to be really hard.” The Queen continued, “There is a mushroom patch over on the side of the castle. If you go there, there's a couple of special mushrooms that are pink and green. Take one mushroom and place it in this bag.” The Queen handed Lucy a black velvet bag and a map. “Next, you need water from the enchanted lake shown here on this map. Then you need one rose flower petal. Finally, you need a hawk’s feather. If you get all of those ingredients to make the soup and succeed to make your sister drink it, she may come back to her senses. We've never tried it before, but it is an ancient recipe. I hope it works, but if it doesn't work, we can't be sad.”

“Ok, I’m ready to go.” said Lucy.

“Great, but first I will take you to The Armor Room where you can pick an outfit. Follow me,” said the Queen. Lucy nodded and followed the queen. They went through another long corridor and came to a thick door. The Queen opened the door and Lucy went into the room.

Inside, there were five glass containers holding the most beautiful armor she had ever seen. The first one was black and gold and had a snake texture to it. The second one was hot pink and rose gold and had spikes all over it. The third one was blue and black and had a smooth texture. The fourth one was silver and purple and had a bumpy texture to it. The last one was green and silver and had little spikes on the shoulders, knees, elbows and head. Lucy picked the third one because it reminded her of the ocean. She opened the glass door and took out the armor.

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

There was a changing room, so she went in and changed. When she came out there was a full-length mirror. She looked like a warrior. She came out of the room to show the Queen, but she was gone. Lucy started walking back to the front door. “She is probably just busy,” Lucy thought.

Lucy went outside to begin her journey to the Dark Castle. The castle was far away, but Lucy was determined to find Jenna. She saw the mushroom patch the queen was talking about. Lucy found the pink and green mushroom and put it in the bag the queen gave her and mashed it up. Next, she headed to the enchanted lake. When she got there, she scooped some enchanted water up with her hand and put it in the bag and mixed it. The Queen gave Lucy a map of fairy wonderland, so she knew where the flower patch was. When she got there, she found the rose flowers, plucked one little pedal off of a flower and put it in the bag. Last, she headed for the hawk’s nest that was in a tree nearby. Lucy carefully climbed the tree and, in the nest, she found a hawk feather. It took her all day to gather the ingredients and get to the Dark Castle. The Dark Castle looked just like the Good Castle, but it was purple and black everywhere and there were mean looking guards at every opening. It was almost nighttime so Lucy decided that she would wait until night to strike.

When it was nighttime, she got up from behind the bush she was hiding in, and the guards were asleep. She crept to the back door and opened it. It was unlocked! Inside the castle was dark, all except for a few torches. Lucy started walking forward slowly. It was so quiet she could hear her footsteps. *Tap tap* went her feet. She kept walking and walking until she came to a door. Lucy slowly pushed the

door open and inside was a… cage! And inside the cage was... JENNA!!!

Jenna was tied to a chair and had tape on her mouth. She had scrapes all over her face, hands, and knees. She had tear stains on her face. When Jenna saw Lucy, she started to cry again. Lucy hurried and looked around for a key to the cage. She found it on a chair. Lucy grabbed the key and put it in the lock to the cage. The cage opened and Lucy took the tape off Jenna's face. Lucy gave Jenna the bag with the potion. “Drink this and you'll feel much better,” said Lucy to Jenna. Jenna took the bag and drank it all.

Magically, all of Jenna’s scratches and cuts went away! She was clean and looked good. “Come on Jenna, we gotta get out of here before someone catches us!” said Lucy.

“Good idea,” said Jenna.

They started walking back down the long hallway. When they got outside, they were too tired to walk the long trip back to the Good Realm, so they camped out in a nearby empty shed. In the morning they started walking back again. When they got back to the castle, everyone was excited to see them. They said thank you and goodbye to everyone and started to head back home. They went to the entrance that they came in. They pushed open the big door and they were back in the cave. It was still nighttime!

Lucy and Jenna were confused. “Why is it still nighttime?” they said at the same time.

They decided to hurry back to Fairy Wonderland and went to the Queen's room. They asked her why it was still night

when they had been there for two days. “Oh!” the queen said, “I forgot to tell you! Time stops in the real world when a human enters Fairy Wonderland.”

“Well, that explains it!” Lucy said.

They went back to the real world. Lucy and Jenna walked up the long cave path and into the woods. They found their way back to their tree fort and then went home. At home, their mother asked, “what were you girls up to today?” Lucy and Jenna looked at each other and said, “Nothing much.” They both laughed.

Now both Jenna and Lucy always visit Fairy Wonderland whenever they get a chance. Little Georgie found a cure to the sickness. The Queen was honored to have a person like Lucy save the day for Fairy Wonderland and is always happy to see Lucy and Jenna when they visit.

The End.

C. W., Grade 4

Southview Elementary School, Waconia Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

Talking Politics

Take a Stand

There is water in my veins

The tide rises and falls within me

A vast ocean of emotion

Rising to wash away the injustice

Of the world

I awaken

With a boom and a bang

The ground shaking, raging with anger

A mountain emerges

All down my sides

Coils of hair

Hail bouncing left and right

Crashing to the ground like waves

Mist glides over the sea

Sending a chill up my spine

A sense of anger and pain

I sit trying to forget the feeling

Pain never leaves

It digs deep until it reaches all of your body

Down to your feet

With a rumble and a tumble, I am ready to erupt

To shake up the world

Step by step

Breath by breath

Gravity pulls me

Off cloud nine down to Earth

No longer clear

My eyes filled with tears

Ringing in her ears

I watch the news

My heart bursting in pain

Fear screams out

I am in a nightmare

I have salted the ocean with my tears

Why, why

Why do you make me cry?

Allowing my tears to fall from the sky

Lightning flashes surround me

Fires raging

I don’t want anyone else to die

Why is being different a crime?

Why do we choose to be blind?

Why can’t we all be in harmony?

Why can't we accept differences?

Why do you stare?

Is it because my hair is too loud?

My skin is too brown?

My eyes, too enchanting?

The oceans rise within me

I will not rest until we are all truly free

With the speed of light I break the surface of the waves

I have the power to set waves crashing into caves

Trees blowing with rage

Filled with pain

The pain that absolutely drives you insane

The rising waves extinguishing

The flames of injustice

I will let my curls bounce

My skin shine

My eyes fill with light

I will use my power to cause storms of hope and shine rays of light

No longer going to twist and turn myself inside out for you

Because these curls are meant to be free

I am the change I want to see

For this power, this beautiful strong, independent, passionate Black woman power

Will send a total wave

I will pave the path for others

I will pave a path for my brothers and sisters

Any race, any gender I stand with you and for you

So go ahead give me that look

The side glare with the whip of your hair

Because I am no longer going to sit here letting you control my fear

I shall stand

In fury I will pick up the pieces

The pieces of this broken world

Because in am no longer just a Black girl

I am water

I am the tide, rising and falling

Finding every crack

Grabbing every fragment of passion and hope

Binding it back together

There is water in my veins

The tide rises and falls within me

A vast ocean of emotion

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Rising to wash away the injustice

Just like the sea.

Abby Appleton, Grade 8

Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview

Teaching Artist, Desdamona

A System Must Have Balance

The nervous system

It’s like our world today

Because one wrong turn

And your life could be cast astray

Every nerve matters

And a system Must Have balance

Transferring information

To maintain stabilization

Neurons carry messages

Just like circuitry

Carrying a message

From a button

Through wires

Walkin’ home

Hearing gunfire

People throwin’ rocks

At a Black Lives Matter Sign

Nervous system tryin’ to keep you sane

Trying to keep you stable

So many people just wanna

Label you

And the entire system

Just like a tree

Is pushing down on you

The brown branches

Reaching to the sky

But one holds it down

Because like the nervous system

And a circuit

Each part has a job

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Carrying nutrients to each system

Which are all needed for photosynthesis

But one side of the tree gets too much And

It collapses Or is cut down Even

The spinal cord

Couldn’t hold it up

Because like everything in life

A system must Have balance

And every day

Someone impoverished Is left untreated Left taking

Too much for their Nervous systems to handle

Maybe like Parkinson’s Left shaking Or

Like Multiple sclerosis

Seein’ a blur

Or speaking with a slur

But my point is In a system that is unbalanced

The ones who are holding Up that tree

Trying to keep it from falling Will be the ones Most unbalanced

The most overlooked Because our system

Doesn’t

Have balance

So we gotta make it happen

Gotta bring the change

Gotta disengage

That system of unbalance.

Rio Mississippi, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Peace in War

What happens to peace on a fire filled night?

Does it just go away like fading light?

And how would it respond to modern fight or flight?

Does it go waiting for 1,000 years?

Or does it wait constantly pricking up its ears?

Now I’m going to tell you something I hold true:

It keeps an eye over me and you.

Where it will never cease, no never.

This is my dream of peace.

Kegan Schetnan, Grade 4

Meadowbrook Elementary School, Golden Valley Teaching Artist, Marie Olofsdotter

Stay Blessed

Coming live from a place full of chaos (pooow!!)

Never knew nothing, just young and reckless. Getting scars on my body like they’re a tattoo or something. Teachers say we're writing poems, But this could be a testimony to your hearing. Was blessed by God, we made it out the warzone

And we ain't talking ‘bout no Call of Duty warfare. You feel me?

War ain't a game there's gonna be many casualties, I'm pretty sure you'll be traumatized

If you saw what the dark truth holds to this world you see. It's gonna change your perspective of life.

If you ask me, matter of fact this world ain't what you think it is.

We ain't afraid to speak out on what's true to us.

There's a man who used to live in this world 2,000 years ago. The world (so cruel) don’t give much love and praises to his sacrifices. Which saved us all.

Meaning his sacrifice was huge (like a pot of stew).

Words don't even get close to how big it is. He is known as the messiah, the kings of kings, the way the truth and the life, JESUS CHRIST my brother and sister!!

“No one comes through the Father except through me,” said Jesus.

I know there are gonna be some who don’t wanna hear the gospel

Let alone stand it, but I tell you, blood Hell is real also known as the Lake of Fire.

You see God doesn't want you to end up in hell He wants you to be in heaven being with him like them angels.

But he despises sins, but he is always forgiving And don’t take that for granted though. (Repent and seek) his Kingdom (repent and seek) his face For he will deliver you with what you need.

If I were to expose the system or government (Would they) come for me (would they) kill me, so I’ll be silenced?

My diamond mind holds truths (like Einstein), More than your average person. I can keep going But ask me instead, my last message is that DON’T GET THE MARK OF THE BEAST

Which is 666

For it will be too late to get saved after you've get it just like an (egg falling off its nest). Deny getting any chip implant on your right hand including your forehead,

For the devil run loose on this world and corrupt it. Pick up your bible or read it on your phone. Read revelation for which it has words on what’s gon’ happen in them last days.

“You can be an atheist, but not a dumb one.”

The bible prophecies are true. I had to speak to you some truth or else you wouldn't get the message (just like a glock once you shoot it don’t stop)

But that's on you whether you wanna take it seriously or not but I have said what's true just like Jesus too.

At the age of 5, I could’ve died

Touching the outlets, electricity of the wall.

My heart could have stop

By the current of the wall But the Grace of the Lord saved me from death.

To tell my story, and it's true it’s not just a poem

I still remember there was a moment where I blackout and Somehow came back to consciousness.

May you take our words seriously

And always remember to stay blessed never stressed.

Benjamin Thoo, Grade 7

Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

see how beautiful I am…

I Shouldn’t Be Scared

I shouldn’t be scared for my safety.

I shouldn’t be scared because I am a person of color.

I shouldn’t be scared I am a woman.

I shouldn’t be scared walking in the night by myself afraid of what could happen.

A skinny face with wrinkles, and scrawny tall figure, with bright eyes creeping around me while I walk,

Watching my every move, not knowing when it will attack.

I have to think will I be able to fight back?

I hear woosh, swoosh, and motions behind me.

Looking back ever so slightly to make sure no one is behind me.

Hoping that the dark black figure with bright eyes never finds me.

I shouldn’t be scared to walk in the night by myself afraid of what could happen.

I shouldn’t be scared for my safety.

I shouldn’t be scared because I am a person of color.

I shouldn’t be scared I am a woman.

I shouldn’t be scared of being attacked for following rules and staying calm I hear sirens wailing behind me.

I know what is going to happen trying to stay calm.

I remember what my parents told me keep calm, stare straight, keep your palms out.

The white male officer with a mustache and a beer belly tells me to pull over.

I do as instructed because I do not want to be destructed.

He knocks at my window my heart goes pitter patter pitter patter I give him want he needs he finds nothing.

But nothing is never enough.

I have done nothing, but nothing is something to them. He tells me to get out of my car. I do as instructed.

I hear the gun click.

Bang Bang.

Boom.

I am done.

And for what I wonder as I fall into a deep sleep.

All because of my skin tone. I am targeted daily.

The system fails me. I will never be free.

I am like a stray puppy in a cage.

There is no escape and no end to this pain.

I shouldn’t be scared of everyday life just because of my skin and gender.

Bella Stevenson-Shimek, Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Division

Why must we be stuck with division in our society?

Why can’t we just speak a calm mind and sobriety?

Why must we be forced into fighting with two teams and forced in without

Rhyme or reason?

Because we’re forced to be on team one and two that means red and blue.

All of the talk is about what person that they like, but never anything about how they are alike.

It's just time for people to go sling muck for others to rake.

But of course, they are fake.

They all have one sided agendas.

They have their own people to fend for.

They become a defective tribe

Which just means taking bribes of fame and threats of shame

But those who haven't subscribed, joined the tribe, and took the bribe.

Those people are gone

Long ago kicked to the lawn, given time to think of the bribe.

They think of their wife and kids, how are they to survive?

Do they have to go and hide?

But why do this when you can just change sides?

This is common for the media.

They have their news so they will try to lead ya.

If the system is as bad as I say,

Why do these people maintain their pay?

Because the same two teams, red and blue,

Only keep their power because we let them to.

They enjoy this anger stew.

As people grow up they already joined their crew.

This is just common

For this is the status quo.

Cutting off democracy we just don't want to let it grow

So I'm going to leave you with this

Next time you see someone from the other side miss

Don't hiss, hate and diss

And BANG, your continuing the loop

And aiding those evil groups.

Joseph Adam, Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

The Government is Nervous

The government is nervous.

The brain is like the executive branch making decisions and commands.

The spine is like the court, handling issues of crimes like reflexes.

The nerves are like congress, making signals and sending more difficult things to the spine and brain.

The government is nervous.

Hasn’t gotten a break, it needs to slow down and handle issues it has before getting new ones.

Just like our body needs to sleep.

The government needs a break.

Just like how we get weaker without a break so does the government.

The Government needs a rest.

The Government is nervous.

Peripheral Neuropathy is like a spy in the Government.

It makes the body weak like spies make the Government weak.

It starts from damage to nerves outside the spine or brain.

Like how spies start from failure to ensure they aren’t working for other countries.

It cannot be cured, like how leaked information cannot be taken back,

But it can be helped with antidepressants, pain medicine, or anti seizure medicine,

Just like the government can check for spies to help it.

Jerrell Olbekson, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Breathe

Breathe.

Must be hard to do with the weight of racism on your neck.

Lock the doors. Though it won’t stop the police from bursting in.

I thought the saying goes “innocent until proven guilty” so why do police treat us like we’re guilty even after proven innocent?

It’s almost like we expect it to come. Preparing ourselves long before it does. Knowing it will.

The fear of another unjustified death begins to swallow us whole and place worry into our hearts.

Our hoods are often baby sat by officers. I didn’t know hanging out with friends was a crime. Seems we can’t even do that in peace without sirens clashing through the silence and replacing it with suspense and curiosity.

Another body. Another funeral. Another death with no justice.

We scream, march and cry. Yet we still awake to the news of another loved one, lost in the misfortune of the ongoing racist fight.

No more hugs for him. No more kisses from her. No more dinners at the park with them. All because of the hate for a darker complexion.

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

We can’t eat, can't sleep. Can’t live our lives without an officer trying to snatch it away.

Our true beauty cannot be admired properly from our caskets. Our uniqueness cannot be faked nor replaced.

We are all our own original versions of ourselves. Gorgeous as we are.

Our black beauty is taken for granted. Our worth is valued less than it should be.

We rise above on our wings of hope and perseverance, for we know, we will win our justice. No matter how long it shall take.

Pouring our blood, sweat and tears into all we do, because in the end, we will never surrender to the likes of you.

N. P., Grade 8 Northeast Middle School , Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Stolen Land

Sweaty palms grip the steering wheel as the blue and red lights flash through the rear window. The fear, raising in their chest. The fear of being separated from family. The fear of being sent to spend days in a cage like an animal. In cages with dirty ripped clothes and little food. People sleep on concrete floors and benches with foil Blankets desperately seeking warmth, Trying to fuel some strength to make it through. But the only thing that seems to be fueled in those detention Camps is the lack of compassion. “They steal jobs!” They exclaim but still don’t seem to be Bothered by the fact they stole THIS land. The land of the freedom they call it, But what happened to the freedom of being able to pass by a cop and not be scared that they’ll take you back to the place you worked so hard to escape. The wall just keeps building higher and wider And the American dream strays further and further away.

All those people and children, wondering if they’ll ever make it home,

Those children wondering if they’ll be misplaced just like those before them,

Like the 1,500 children who have gone missing in hands of immigration, Who simply vanished, Leaving their families waiting for the rest of their days in hopes that their babies will finally make it home safe.

Just like the family of Adam Toledo, The young 13 year old boy who was murdered for “being out too late” even after he was compliant. “Stay still!” he stood.

see how beautiful

am…

“Hands up!” his hands were up,

But even then the sounds of a gun were heard that night.

Why is it that they want to get rid of us so badly?

The immigrants who, oh so beautifully shaped this country.

Why is it that kicking us out isn’t enough?

Why do they have to resort to killing us?

Why do they have to resort to violence against street vendors who stand tirelessly in the hot sun day after day?

Why do they have to attack the weak who aren’t able to fend for themselves?

I pray for the day I no longer have to ask these questions to myself,

But until that day comes, I’ll stick to this phrase

No one is illegal, on stolen land.

M. C. C., Grade 8 Northeast Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

One Nation

I can’t breathe as he saw light coming towards him slowly and then

Lights out.

It’s just crazy how the world can change easily but I live on the east side so how did the west side get the east involved in this?

“BOOOOM,” a firework goes sounds like a building fell, Another store goes up in flames. I can smell it from a far distance, it smells like a volcano erupting.

The damage they’ve done to that useful store in anger. Didn’t they think about the Minnesotans that need these stores in this Covid crisis?

I thought the police are supposed to protect and serve not cause conflict and God only knows what they’re doing is not right.

“I can’t breathe,” they’ll chant during peaceful protests and not so peaceful protests.

It’s that racism, why us African Americans are supposedly suspicious when we’re trying go by our days and why we are being watched as we go into areas. It’s that racism, while the others that are not our complexion get the opposite attention that we African Americans don’t get.

So, all I wanted to say is what happened to living in one nation, what happened to equality, and what to peace and harmony, what happened to that?

We all can’t wait until we can finally live in equality, in “one nation.”

Well, it will be one looooooooong time before we have equality in America.

It’s a tough life when you’re African American in America. Good luck living in this “one nation” of America.

All of us African Americans can’t wait until we can finally really say, “we’re free at last.”

T. W., Grade 7

Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

I Have Given It a Thought…

I have given it a thought.

About how the world would be. If everything doesn't revolve around the same thing. The same ideas. The same minds.

The same people of the same kind. And a big clock above all of our heads slowly ticking away time.

Like a honeybee hive with thousands of bees. Working their lives away in a never ending system. In their small hive in their big tree.

For me it's so similar to modern day times because we people seem to be working in a hive robotically like machines. We eat and we walk, and we steal and we talk aimlessly about money and land and never about how to make a stand. And they send us to schools where we are taught not how to learn and live in a society whose standards are so amazingly unfair, but how to solve for x and the area of a square.

Or how people think they are not good enough, which will never be true. Because no one can dictate your own selfworth, but you.

And you can sit with yourself and your thoughts everyday, but I know that you wouldn't be able to stay knowing that your mind may be crowded with scary things. How you are afraid of the future and what it may bring. Because nothing is forever and thinking that may feel like a sting.

And one day you could wake with everything the same and by nightfall you could feel like you have changed because every day matters.

So, I have given it a thought, about the grooves and pattern that everybody seems to fall into eventually. Without a powerful poetical purpose. We sit in our cubicles where we stare at a screen for hours on end and then work our butts off to go home and pretend that

nothing else matters except money and power and how much you get paid an hour. And a white man that lived long before today, invented a system with money to pay

For things that other people will eventually throw away. And it will end up in Oceans and volcanoes of trash erupting with sadness and turning to ash. So is it worth it?

You can't possibly think so, right? How could you possibly sleep at night when you know that somewhere there are movements of peace and equality called riots and words of bad quality. Or, somewhere people can't walk alone at night because they are afraid to be taken and they know that they can't fight. And somewhere are pushed to the back of the line we call life to wait another year or so to fight for what's right. So yes, I have given it a thought.

How the world would be Without the same people Without the same minds With a new mindset With a new fate.

Where billions of people live of all genders and races Like a willow tree with millions of leaves, Or all the fish swimming freely in the sea.

Oh what a lovely thought that can be.

Kate Kowalczyk, Grade 7

Lake Harriet Upper School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Who We Are

What i s a Man?

What is a man?

A question that eludes me to this day. You see, I grew up with a mom and a dad, but I always felt closer to women.

Thus, I lived happily in the feminine world.

I never thought twice about why it’s weird for me to have bright pink women’s shoes or why having a lime green purse wasn’t fire.

Society would say I was confused

I mean, wouldn’t you agree?

Have you ever met a young man who’s favorite sport to watch was women’s basketball?

No?

Ok, let’s go with that, then I was confused.

Word: gay

Definition: not a man

Synonyms: weak or effeminate

A word that has been thrown on me for many years from eighth grade on I’ve had countless people tell me I talked gay looked gay built gay dressed gay and am gay.

Now, is there any problem with being gay? No. But in my case, it wasn’t about my sexuality. It was what that word meant in those contexts.

Homosexuality in a straight man’s vocabulary means not a real man.

So, what does it mean if the cool guys The pretty girls and my best friends are placing this word on me?

It means I have to change. It means I have to research who this so called real man is.

YouTube search history: How to be an alpha male ? How to text girls? How to gain muscle? How to not be a nice guy?

And so that’s what I did.

After lots of investigation

I have finally found out what a real man is: He’s not nice. No, you cannot be nice and a man. You have to pick one. I mean, come on how are you supposed to be nice and get girls, stupid?

He’s confident, oh yeah super confident.

Shoulders back. Chest up. Eyes up. 24/7.

And finally

He doesn’t need help. Depressed, traumatized, suicidal don’t tell anyone, say you’re just tired.

Well, sophomore and junior years I went along with those ideas. Devoted myself to gaining muscle changed my hair my clothes, my walk, my talk and whatever else I outlined as a problem. This time of life is usually referred to as my glow up.

So, what happened? I got more attention more confidence and found that bettering yourself can be enjoyable. Yet… I also began to reflect the attitudes of my peers regarding women, the LGBTQ community and my world as a whole.

Was I a horrible person? No.

The other parts of me still existed they were just overshadowed.

Overshadowed by my reenactment of what I thought a man was.

how beautiful

am…

To get where I’m at today

I had to rediscover myself connect with my inner child hear critiques about my actions and be brutally honest with myself.

Only then could I answer my question: what is a man?

I…

I am a man.

A man who understands how he was conditioned to this world.

A man with friends real enough to check him and let him know that they missed the old Anton.

I am a man.

A man who cries and seeks help for his mental health and talks about his feelings with other men. A man who does hair masks wears onesies and tucks his stuff animals into sleep every night. A man who is learning to listen first speak second.

I am a man. A man who is goofy beyond belief works out at the gym six days a week and still needs a hug.

I am a man who wants to give up some days to lay it all down quit.

I am a man who’s tired tired of the fact that the only person who listens and validates my emotions is being paid to do so.

Tired of having so many emotions built up that when I open up I make my therapist cry.

A man who’s f***in’ tired.

Tired of having to be strong all the time. Tired of being told I'm not that depressed.

I’m f***in’ tired.

Tired of trying to keep my friends alive of being the only one who gets that late night call about suicide.

I’m f***in’ tired.

One of my friends died last year and one of the last things I said about him was that he acts gay. I’m tired of being a man a man who believes that men can cry.

Anton Jahn Vavrus, Grade 12 South Senior High School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

see how beautiful I am…

Protection

Integumentary means covering Protection

Like how the world protects children from harm From terrible people

To terrible things.

Organs and systems within the body are sensitive. Children’s feelings are sensitive.

We tell the world that if you don’t have anything nice to say Don’t say it at all But this isn’t helping.

This is covering But the covering can crack. The covering should crack.

Crack and crisp Then calm and clear Like a rash on your emotions

Which can only clear if you expose it to the real world. Rip away the band aid And let it heal with its own protection

Just like the integumentary system. How is change supposed to happen if we won’t let anyone talk about it?

It’s like going into the sun with no sunscreen

Letting it burn you.

But when someone tries to tell you to put on sunscreen

You say, they hurt your feelings by saying you did something wrong.

When you end up with skin cancer years later it’s not the (integumentary) system’s fault.

It’s your own

For not changing because you don’t like the mean thing someone said

For covering your feelings

But not protecting yourself.

The child’s feelings are not more sensitive than the organs or the systems.

Integumentary means covering Protection

But there are many ways to protect.

For the integumentary system, there are nails, hair, skin, the epidermis, and many more.

There is more than one way to protect yourself, your feelings, children, and society too.

We need the somewhat unkind, yet true things to be said as well as the compliments and niceties.

The only way things will change is if we help protect ourselves too.

We can’t rely only on the integumentary system

We need to work too.

The system won’t protect the children’s emotions

But neither will only compliments, Niceties, And

Protection from the truth. Integumentary means covering And Protection.

Sadie Maguire, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Brother

You are the one I look up to. If you call to me underwater I know it’s you. If you touch me with your hands, I know the grooves of your fingers. When you come home, I know the smell of tennis on your hands.

I know your every next move, but when we start a game you become unbeatable. You can go into impossible worlds, you are always one step ahead. I see you every time I leap to something new but you are always waiting for me at the next jump. You are my hero. I want to catch up but I fear I never will.

Caleb Colton, Grade 5 Saint Paul Academy, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Joyce Sidman

To My Grandma

I love the way you always make everyone feel loved, The way you make me feel like you really do care, The way you change something really bad into something really good, The way you have kept your head up and have stayed strong, The attitude that everyone is good, The warm hugs you give, The caring, wild, loving, loud, selfless human you are. But I hate the demon that has infected your body, The poison that enters your port and then your veins, making you lose the hair on top of your head. That gross sick feeling for days, The loss of all that wild and fun energy I’m used to. But I love how you have kept your head up, The strength that you have shown, How brave you have been, And the way you always make everyone feel loved no matter what you are going through.

I can't wait for the days when all that wild and fun energy comes back.

I can't wait for those gross sick days to be a distant memory The day your hair starts to grow back

The day when the demon has completely vanished, and you are free of its poison.

Kaylee Eidsmoe, Grade 12

Roseau High School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Desdamona

My Name

My name means beautiful and gentle. I feel good about that. My name is like the color red and like a certain kind of song a song of motivation. It sounds like God's grace. Say my name and you’ll get the feeling of rain. I was born on a rainy day. Another person who has my name is my aunt. Also, my mom's cousin, my cousin, and one of my best friends. It's kind of fun when we are together. People are calling out Naimo trying to get one of us to pay attention and we don't know which one they want. Sometimes people say my name wrong they say Nemo. I really don't care. I’m jealous of the name Nazia. It means “daughter who brings glory to her family.” I wish my name meant light of Allah.

N. H. Rochester STEM Academy, Rochester Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Words Delight

In the age of technology so boundless and grand, When every last person has a phone in their hand, In all our new things, so shiny and bright, We forget what lets us sleep at night.

We forget what we love, our family and friends, We’re bothered by the trips to Grampa and Grams.

An animal, consuming screen time, All you want is one more hour, To waste your brainpower. Please, just one more hour!

One more episode, Another round, I don’t want to go out to dinner! Just send me home bound.

We have forgotten how to treat, Those people we hold dearest, The special one who’s nearest, The people who are dearest.

Society is crumbling, Down, down, down, While we do nothing, Just sitting around.

Waiting. Somebody. Somebody should save us, Somebody.

We fail to see the obvious, Even as it surrounds us like water around a sinking ship. It's us.

We are the answer, The key.

Each and every one of us must come together, be the answer we seek, Use our brain power to fix the world's problems.

This could be recycled, I am going to treat her right, I am going to take the bus, I am going to skip an unmasked party with hundreds of people, I am going to be the change we seek.

So go,

Give your grandparents a call, recycle that can, Skip that party, treat her right.

Because in the age of technology so boundless and grand, A tiny little virus has shuttered the lands, And exposed the failings of man, For in all our advances so shiny and bright, We’ve forgotten how to use our words to delight.

Ian Nordland, Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

My Name

My name means damask rose. I’m unique. Not many people have the same name as me. I wish it had fewer letters. My name is like the color red and I get angry like a rap song when people say my name wrong. My name sounds like “jewelry.” Juwariya. My siblings say it reminds them of “jaguar.” It’s hard. Literally, almost everyone gets it wrong. My aunt has the same name. We were named for one of the last prophet’s wives. I have a nickname Jay. I wish my name was Mumtaz.

J. M.

Rochester STEM Academy, Rochester Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

I Only Ever Told You and The Moon

I only ever told you and the moon, How much light his absence brought, How I hate the marks

His words made on my skin, And how he never taught, Me

How to truly love.

Did you know he’s gone?

Their long fingers dragged him to the place where he’ll sit, ‘Til the final dawn,

In fifteen months, He’ll come home, deteriorated, At-home life back to beyond R-rated.

Why did he do it?

Why did he go?

It wasn’t his fault, But he should have known. Maybe I’m selfish, Just like they say, But it doesn’t change the fact, He was never there to stay. When he left I felt free again, Lighter in a way, But her, She was full of dismay.

The weights and the chains that tugged down my mind, Were finally lifted, But thrown back at me in time.

I only ever told you and the moon, How I don’t think I love him, Which is a terrifyingly real feeling. After all, He’s who made my tears brim,

And helped me construct the walls surrounding my heart, Made me think no one loves me.

Emotion is a foreign language, To ignorant/ beings who aren’t free.

On Tik Tok “daddy issues” are romanticized, Made to be a joke, But real life is messy and hard, Tugging you down like a rope.

When you always feel like you’re on guard, It seems there is no hope.

I only ever told you and the moon, That I cried only once, And not for him, But for What could have been.

It was the anger bubbling up and over me, A helpless pot of pain.

The tears trailed droplets of moonlight as they trickled, Tasting of ocean and rain.

That night your soul glowed through the pain, Glowed in the dark, Glowed in the rain.

You’re a constant reminder, That despite everything, We must admit there will be music.

Because even when The world ends, We will still be singing.

Mazie Solarz Patel, Grade 8 South View Middle School, Edina Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

see how beautiful

am…

Black Girl Power

Power power

Speak a little louder

Don’t be scared to Use your black girl power.

We’re powerful, we’re Beautiful. We’re wonderful Don’t that tell you something?

We got so much we can’t Hide. All this black girl Power inside like a diamond In the sky.

Our black girl power is Forever we come in Different shades so Catch this fade.

We’re like a flower

We’re so high you can’t Even see us devour. It’s so much we take in It’s like over power.

Skyy Phillips, Grade 7

Free Arts of Big Brothers Big Sisters, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Gen Z

Boomers, Millennials, Gen Z, Gen A, aka generation Z, the most powerful generation. Almost like a lion hunting for its prey, getting ready to pounce at any given moment. The generation that will fight for what is right. We will accept you if you come out as a rainbow.

Because the rainbow is the most beautiful after the storm and because love is love. Though we pledge to the striped, red, white, blue flag, to the land of free? No.

People of color shouldn't have to always look over their shoulder like meerkats walking on eggshells because of police brutality.

And they certainly aren't afraid to speak up and get justice for victims and families, but are afraid to socialize and go out or when a waiter gets their order wrong, they stay silent and don't say anything because like they say, we are socially awkward. The funny thing is we are considered the most powerful generation yet the weakest at the same time, Gen Z.

Boomers have always told Gen Z that they wouldn't make it and that they were the laziest generation, but within the last year we have shown them that they messed with the wrong generation. Gen Z are always on their phones, but little did they know Gen Z will always be the first to find any information or news on society.

Now we rule the streets like we rule a dynasty. We are united like friends being invited.

see how beautiful

am…

We use our voices to make wrongdoers pay for their choices. We wake up every morning to make history even though we are not mentioned in books but a mystery. Fighting every day to get our rights so that one day we can see the light.

D. X., Grade 7 Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

¡Me L evanto!

I rise up!

I rise up for cereal, sushi, and strawberry ice cream.

I rise up for dogs, horses, and fish.

I rise up to play with my brother, go to my cousin’s house and play outside.

I rise up like roses, butterflies, and the moon.

Abigail Cone, Grade 2

Sheridan Arts Spanish Dual Immersion, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist, Danny Solis

She

She is grandmother to me and the ‘Lucky thirteen.’

She is strong. She is funny. She cares for others. She is sunny!

Her name is Marie, Mother of my Father. Her strength never falters. Her reality...altered. She is lost in a cloud of overlapping memories

And mixed up time. She forgets, But I remember. She repeats herself, But I listen. She is the tallest tree

In our family forest.

She is the lighted path. She is a beam of warmth.

She is my grandma.

Her name is Marie. I was a baby Cradled in her arms, an apprentice in her kitchen.

I was her helper in her garden. She would sneak me treats Without my parents’ permission. She introduced me to her neighbors

With so much pride and joy. She placed my hand in hers. It was our time for a new adventure.

They lasted until I was 5. Grandpa died. Grandma cried.

I knew in that moment Of loss and grief

That l could be her sunshine. I could be her relief.

We’d often visit her...

My mom, my dad and me

Until a GLOBAL PANDEMIC prevented us to see

Her in her new apartment, Her in structured care, Her in new surroundings, Likely with whiter hair, She talks to me on the phone sometimes. She listens to me share.

She believes that I am younger, with shorter, lighter hair. She talks a lot about Weather...

Flowers...

And new friends. She moves on to different timelines again,

But our love has no end.

She is grandma.

She is Marie. She is a part of me.

Grace Wadell, Grade 5

Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

My Name

My name, Fathia, means “victory.” It has six letters, but I wish it had seven. My name is the color purple like a song on a spring day. It sounds like raindrops. Say my name and you’ll think of winning. When people say it wrong, they say “Fat Hia.” I get mad and my nickname is Ugbaad.

F. A.

Rochester STEM Academy, Rochester Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Con versations

“What school do you go to?”

“What shows do you like?”

What's your social security number... I don’t know how else I'm supposed to relate? You don't want to talk. Maybe just look at me with a weird face. I know you're feeling the same as me, wondering what to say to get you talking. I'm just trying to make being here easy to stand but no one wants to have these con versations. Con versations

Words exchanged like money or the pass of a ball. It's your turn now. No wonder we can’t make the ball across the net when our words can't even make it past our lips.

Words hit the net. Stopped from the play of the “game.” Is there another way?

THINK of SOMETHING! Nerves and tension take over. No more words

Passing.

No, no, no!

Silence...

The buzzer in your head. *ball dropping sound* It's over… Another chance lost at these con versations. But you can’t give up. GO.

Fetch the ball. Fetch your words. Don't let words hit the ground again in these con versations.

Taletta Jones, Grade 8 Lake Harriet Upper School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Clarity

Clarity has always ripped me from my friends and family. I live outside my body hoping someone understands me And I give it my instructions, but it never comprehends them.

I am talking through a game of telephone to my own throat

If I had all the words in the world, I'd still fumble.

Talking isn't any easier without my mouth full. Conversation just has never felt quite natural. I'm stuck inside a fishbowl and my words are just bubbles.

I'm switching metaphors too quickly Hope somebody understands me.

Maybe if my words are all pre-written I can find clarity.

Zara Bertram, Grade 8 Oak Grove Middle School, Bloomington Teaching Artist, Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

Grow

Chains holding me back, deadweight I carry on my back, a creature pulling me back. Back from what though?

Countless days will pass, hours upon hours will pass, month after month will pass, years to decades will pass. They pass, and countdown to what though?

I will grow, my mind will grow, my friends will grow. What else will grow as well though?

Chains holding me back, countless days pass, I will grow.

Back from what though?

They’ll pass, and countdown to what though? What else will grow as well though?

Is it the fear that I will have as long as I live?

The fear that will hold me back, the fear that will be what will pass, and the fear that will grow?

It is with this fear, this fear that is what everyone's last thought is.

But still, for I will no longer let these chains hold me back. I will no longer just let days pass, I will still continue to grow.

The fear that lives in my heart will be the last fear I have, so why let that fear stop me from life?

Once again, I will say it,

Chains holding me back, deadweight I carry on my back, a creature pulling me back. Countless days pass, hours upon hours pass, month after month pass, years to decades pass. I will grow, my mind will grow, my friends will grow.

And when the chain breaks free, when the days have stopped passing, and when I am all done growing, what will I be remembered for, what will I have stood for?

According to Proverbs 1:1, it says:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

see how beautiful

It started in the dark, and it will end in the dark. That people right there, right there is my fear.

Logan Wagner, Grade 7 Northdale Middle School , Saint Paul Teaching Artist, SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

Core of Me

When I was younger

My reality wasn't engaged

Like strategies to make up for my pain, Long lost memories I would cultivate.

My name means God will save, Less of a direction, more of a pace

To acknowledge the waste Hit the brakes and compensate.

I'll be honest: I miss my mother. People in this life act like They don't need each other.

When I was younger People didn't wear masks Not a Covid thing, just a clear path. Listening to old CDs and rap Helped me learn that.

I have met a lot of two-faced people

Saying all the nice ways they will treat you. Deep down they don't think you’re equal.

Ratting you out in the worst moments, Some poets believe in waves of emotion.

I never liked the thought that for a second. I’d be open and engulfed in my devotion.

When I was younger I used to listen.

Now I appreciate the little fishes

see how beautiful

That enjoy warm water from my burned bridges.

False idols are the painful gimmicks because deep down people know they made the wrong decision.

When I was younger

I wished I knew it all. Can't say that's changed much no withdrawal.

When I was younger

I spoke in clear tongues, Clear thoughts, in mere tons. I'd walk and you'd run.

True age and things new, Fall down and things bruise, peasants walking in king’s shoes.

Wishing away my dreams like Rumpelstiltskin, Newborn child led astray and I'm filled with: Rage, pain, power, and poison.

People's choices mask their feelings, distorted.

Happiness is at the core, but we lose sight of what's important. Happiness is at the core, but we lose sight of what's important.

Joshua Vail, Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

¡Me L evanto¡

I rise up for egg bakes, peanut butter sandwiches, and cubed marshmallows.

I rise up for dogs, Komodo dragons, and bees.

I rise up to play video games, walk my dog, and go exploring in the creek.

I rise up like flying UFO’s, planes, and smoke jumpers.

Kaden Foster, Grade 2

Sheridan Arts Spanish Dual Immersion, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist, Danny Solis

see how beautiful I am…

Why I Like Tok yo

I like Tokyo in spring when cherry blossoms are awake dressed in shades of pink, red and white. No need to worry about competing with green leaves, Cherry blossoms remind me it’s time for hanami. So I eat oinarisan, and celebrate arrival of spring with the blossoms.

I like Tokyo in winter when cherry blossoms are wise enough to stay away from freezing cold that can make them shrivel and become lifeless. Their limbs and branches look lonely, but they are really waiting for warm weather so that they can hold the beauty of cherry blossoms up high again for everyone to see.

I like Tokyo in fall when cherry blossoms start to prepare for the weather that goes from cold, to colder to coldest. Their cherry blossom wisdom tells them to prepare for many months of sleep so that when warm weather returns, they can wake up strong, healthy and full of color.

I like Tokyo in summer when cherry blossoms disappear and stay out of the way so that green leaves finally get a chance to be recognized. Cherry blossoms are confident. Their beauty will always stay strong and vibrant.

Nanako Isozaki, Grade 8

Northeast Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Socially Anxious

What makes you uncomfortable? Uneasy?

What makes you feel anxious

Or queasy?

Scared to admit my favorite show,

Dreading the moment the words escape my lips, Hoping they'll overlook it and ask no questions.

What if they don’t like it?

What if they think I’m too young, too old?

You know it doesn't matter. People shouldn't be able to make you feel a certain way, An anxious way.

But they do They can

Without giving one word With only

One raised eyebrow One inquiring look.

Braided with anxiety, Intertwined with embarrassment,

The feeling of going into a restaurant and thinking, “I got this, all I want is a chicken taco.”

The walk up to the counter, I rehearse what I plan to say in my head, Feeling confident and ready

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Ready to order the heck out of the delicious goodness coming my way

Perfectly spiced chicken, crunchy lettuce.

When they call “next!”

I’m thinking, “Oh no!”

Suddenly fidgety, Staring off into space, Or looking down to my boots. Walking forward

In a barely audible whisper I say, “chicken taco.”

The feeling of going to a friend’s house for a sleepover, And being asked what I would want for dinner. I’m thinking “Pizza sounds good, thanks.”

But instead I say, “I don’t have a preference.”

The line comes out before I can really think, An instinct

It's not exactly a lie, But why do I feel scared and anxious?

Like I can’t state my opinion?

No one told you to feel anxious, To feel scared, Not knowing how or why that feeling ever came.

Your parents didn’t tell you, Neither did your teachers, Friends, Or family. No one talks about it

Meeting a friend of your parents,

They say, “Dexter is just about your age! I know you’ll get along.”

Knowing I’ll most likely never see them again Walking toward them, Someone I would never walk up to, let alone be friends with Looking around 7 feet tall and only 2 years older, Looking like he couldn’t care less he was here.

Wondering who will say the first word

Feeling internally awkward

Suddenly self aware and noticing the space my body is taking up

Standing there Looking for someone I know to save me.

First day of school in a new place

No one talks to you, no one looks at you, You walk up to a group and stand awkwardly outside the circle, Wondering how to get in.

Standing in a line,

Looking around for someone to ask where the bathroom is Sometimes, people aren't bothered They’ll forget your question in 5 minutes. It doesn’t change their day.

Like you’re being graded, or interrogated, looked over and Evaluated, I feel it.

The clock seems to slow, So that every tick rings through my ears

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Finding my hands sweaty, Absentmindedly fiddling with the zipper on my jacket.

Hesitant to share, look, or ask

It's a relief when they are actually nice, When they are kind enough to do What you would do, saying “Sure, the bathroom is that way!”

Anxiety.

The feeling of fear,

Of fearing what most would consider normal. Most, meaning least, Because most people struggle with it.

I know it doesn't matter, people shouldn't be able to make me feel a certain way, An anxious way.

What makes you feel anxious Or queasy?

What makes you uncomfortable? Uneasy?

Rachel Wilcox, Grade 8

Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview Teaching Artist, Desdamona

Small Town Living

Small town living is Easy and carefree

Nowhere else I would rather be

You will know almost everyone You know where they live

The car they drive

Where they work And the way they smirk

We all gather together at the Memorial Rink

With a nice warm drink

In our hands

And many people in the stands

We gather at the park

One of Roseau’s landmarks

Volleyball in the sand And fishing rods in our hands

The murky muddy river flows to the north

With a frayed discolored rope swing

Dangling from an oak tree

It's tempting and daring as can be

Everyone needs to pull up And fill up

At the town's favorite Earl’s Drive In Before the long-awaited duel Everyone meets up under the lights

For the big football game tonight Warroad the team from the east

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Comes to town

To take on us the best from the west

The game is decided between the white painted lines

As Warroad hits the bus

The wooden nickel stays with us

Sophie Olson, Grade 9

Roseau High School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

¡Me L evanto!

I rise up!

I rise up for cereal, fish, and chocolate ice cream.

I rise up for foxes, sharks, and cheetahs.

I rise up to play outside.

I rise up like the trees and the moon.

Ray'Quan Sydnor, Grade 2

Sheridan Arts Spanish Dual Immersion, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Danny Solis

The Little Things

Nostalgia is defined as experiencing emotions caused by remembering the past.

Nostalgia…

It can bring you back to a specific time just by the smell of a certain scent.

A clean scent like the soap in the bathroom of my grandma’s house

Memories replay in my mind like a slideshow:

Playing Wii Bowling downstairs, Solving the Mt. Rushmore puzzle with the one missing piece for the thousandth time, And flipping through the morning paper looking for the comic section with Garfield and The Family Circus

These were all an essential part of each visit.

Getting a whiff of the spring air takes me back to my old daycare

Swinging on the playset, feeling like I could fly, Eating lunch on little plastic picnic tables, or just lying in the green grass soaking up the sun and staring up at the bright blue sky.

Nostalgia…

It gives you flashbacks just by hearing a certain song.

Thoughts of walking through the fair with friends as a trendy new pop song blends in with the chatter of the crowds resurface for an instant when I hear the same song on the radio.

When I hear Y.M.C.A., I think back to track and field day

Kids who need an extra layer of sunscreen run around clutching their blue and red ribbons trying to find their classmates

As the events wrap up, everyone is herded back to their classrooms for a final goodbye

But not without grabbing a sticky sweet treat that quickly melts in the heat.

Nostalgia…

It can be found within the pages of your favorite books.

Walking into the school library allows me to reminisce

I recollect the afternoons spent listening as the librarian read us The Boxcar Children

The soft thuds of footsteps climbing up the tiered platforms ring in my ears

The rush of excitement as I looked for the perfect book alongside my peers Racing each other to the train cubbies where friends converse in hushed tones.

I hear the echo of my mom reading to me

Waiting in anticipation for the day to turn to night

Slowly being lulled to sleep by the many mischievous mishaps of Marley the dog

Waking up and begging to be read to just one more time.

Nostalgia…

It can be caused by the little things.

Nostalgia…

A look into the past that’s as fleeting as a summer’s breeze.

Nostalgia…

A glimpse of what life used to be.

Erin Brandt, Grade 9 Roseau High School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

My Name

I searched my name on Google and found out it comes from Arabic. It means gift and new. It reminds me of the color gray and a black swan song. Say my name and you’ll think of a thunderstorm. A friend of mine has this same name, which makes me sad, because I want to be the only one. You can call me by my nickname, though. It’s Neha.

N. A.

Rochester STEM Academy, Rochester

Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

Open Book

I am not at all like an open book. In fact, if anyone would dare, care to look, I would be a book so closed, it would almost be impossible to unlock.

I would be a brown, boring, broken, book. Dusty and old and starting to rot. This book’s so boring if you passed in a library, you would never know what stories I’ve got.

If you’ve passed this book in the library. I would be so quiet you could hear the clock go tick tock tick. Out of thousands of books, I would not be the one that gets picked.

I am not at all like an open book. I don’t own beautiful, expensive book sleeves. My pages aren’t curled, nor are they twirled. How could I be so naïve?

To think that I could be interesting, to think I could be special, with my thoughts about myself, with my thoughts I wrestle.

I’ve sat alone in my library and my mind starts to ponder. I’ve gone so unnoticed. If I was gone, would anyone wonder?

What has happened to me?

What has gone wrong?

With this isolation from friends, will this isolation be so long?

I’m not at all like an open book, I’m not written like Shakespeare, Twain or Poe. My imagination stays in one place though, it does not wander to and fro.

There is a bright side to this book. And one for all others. Like a chess rook moving forwards, because there are no bothers.

One day, this book will find a reader. Clean, not mean, and smart enough to read a clock. Perhaps a best friend who knows how to read this book. What stories will they unlock?

I am not at all like an open book, although I am quite boring, I’ve got a few stories to get told. Quite so interesting, they would never start to get old.

If you want a friend to share some stories a thousand pages long, or want to be friends with someone who can sing a good song, maybe you should start to look. Maybe try to read this old, boring, closed book.

Addisen Knier, Grade 8 South View Middle School, Edina Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

What i s a F ather?

A father is someone who is there for you since day one That teaches you life lessons and more Loves you, cares for you Financially and physically

A father is someone who is biologically related to you Right?

That's not always the case

The first 8 years of my life I had my biological father Now I’m 18 years of age And it's been 10 years since I’ve seen him in person

A father is someone who is actually there for you He can’t parent over Facebook

On the other hand

There is my stepdad

The man who stepped up Took in two arrogant teenage boys And took on the responsibility of parenting

Through the ups and downs

He stayed no matter what No matter how much I hated him on occasion

He still tolerated it And I learned to tolerate him And in the end

He was there for my brother and I

One day I will ask my biological father

How’s Ireland and the two new kids you have?

Sean O’Connor, Grade 12 Roseau High School, Roseau Teaching Artist, Desdamona

Two Sides

There is always fighting inside of my head!

Two sides, one strong and one negative. They argue over what I can and can’t do. One tells me I’m wrong, the other tells me I’m true!

I run, and I walk, I crawl, and I stumble down the path that is my life, which feels like a puzzle. Until I hit a fork in the road, a decision to make, not a humble abode. I stop, trying to decide... should I go left or right?

If I need to, will I be able to fight? Can I ignite the spark inside me, and push till the end, climb way up that tree!?

“You can do this,” says the encouraging voice. “You are strong and powerful, don’t even think twice. But then there’s the other less positive side, “You're going to mess up, so don’t even try!”

Is this how all people live their lives? Stuck like bees flying in their hives?

No!

This can’t be!

There has to be some way to climb up that tree, to swim across the whole sea and to escape all this fiery debris!

There is always fighting inside of my head! Two sides, one strong and one negative. They argue over what I can and can’t do. One tells me I’m wrong, the other tells me I’m true!

how beautiful

Impossible.

Impossible is just another word used to feed the negative, nasty, nauseating voice that lives inside of our heads! It is a word that lessens our dreams and stops us from crossing the finish line.

While this word may seem damaging, damper, and dark, it is really only a word and a disguise. I’m possible is impossible with a space in between, and now I encourage you, since you have seen the true meaning of the word, to stay mentally tough, and look deeper than the rough, ridged surface.

There is always fighting inside of my head! Two sides, one strong and one negative. They argue over what I can and can’t do. One tells me I’m wrong, the other tells me I’m true!

Since Sally Ride was the first woman in space she probably faced the same kind of hate, from that one awful voice inside of her head, telling her she wouldn’t make it back into her bed!

Marie Curie studied chemistry alone at night, because in Poland they didn’t have higher education for women in sight. But she pushed through with mental toughness and was able to discover two new elements we now see on the periodic table.

Both of these women were able to achieve because they disabled the voice that didn’t believe!

Mia Weaver, Grade 8 Lake Harriet Upper School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

¡Me L evanto!

I rise up!

I rise up for pancakes, pizza, cake, and ice cream.

I rise up for dogs, cats, and lions.

I rise up to play outside, play tag, and play hide and seek.

I rise up like the fox and the bunny.

D. G., Grade 2

Sheridan Arts Spanish Dual Immersion, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Danny Solis

Nervous Song

So many people

So So many people

So So So many people

It’s like the first day of school

Nervous with the new teachers

Will they be scary or cool?

Rollercoaster

Ro, Rollercoaster

Ro, Ro, Rollercoaster

I really thought it’d [“id”] be fun

BUT: it wasn’t fun at all!

I wanted it to be done.

Mrs. Cohen’s Classroom, Grades 6 8 Murray Middle School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist, Dylan Fresco

¡Me L evanto!

I rise up!

I rise up for toast, tacos, and ice cream cake.

I rise up for geckos, kittens, and snakes.

I rise up to play outside, play basketball, and dance.

I rise up like a rainbow, the moon, and the sun.

Ju'Nya Carpenter, Grade 2

Sheridan Arts Spanish Dual Immersion, Minneapolis Teaching Artist, Danny Solis

The Painting

Deep breath in deep breath out.

It’s the moment

The moment when paint and canvas collide

That very first brush stroke

The first step.

In one swift motion I lift my hand and a snake like figure

Escapes from the tip of my harmless weapon.

It whirls on the spread of blank opportunities. Then, I reach for a much larger brush and dip it into a bright flaming, red.

When it touches the canvas

It sets it ablaze

Lighting a fire in the room. Pink comes next

Then oranges and yellow and even purples. A whirlwind of color

Setting the fire in my heart and mind.

I set down my brush and gaze at the beautiful mess. “There”

I say inside. A sky.

Next comes a blue

It’s fire against ice

Battling to see who is more intense

The cool or the warm.

The blue calls for backup blues in varying shades and hues. It summons greens and teals and even some reds to reflect

And betray the fire above.

It is a raging battle

But when I stop to again gaze the once raging war becomes

Peaceful

Still

Silent

At peace with each other.

Me and them sit in silent harmony

Until I decide that any lake needs trees.

I dip my brush into a dark brown and create little lines

The trunks

Bare and weak.

When finished I wash my brush

Violently sending it into a whirlwind of murky water before

Wiping it dry on a towel.

Then I dip it into a sap green

So strong but dull

I create sharp gentle strokes to imitate the pine needles of the Evergreens

So much so that the real ones standing just outside look at Themselves in shame.

I steal from the sky and water and add a hue of bright yellow

To the still wet green

Creating a pop An explosion that wakens the trees

Rattling their once lifeless bones.

They spring to life Alert

It’s only a matter of time before they will get lonely and Grieve for a friend.

To satisfy their need I use the same technique and use the Sap green and make a little round splotch that is slightly Textured.

It doesn’t look like much But then the yellow comes charging in It wakes the green like a sergeant waking a sleeping soldier. It transforms a once lifeless

Meaningless splotch into a happy little bush

Full of life.

I continue on my journey

Little tweak here and there

GIANT tweak there

A tornado of brush strokes paint and movement

An asynchronous dance

Moving so fluidly but so unpredictable.

My mind races

Like a well oiled machine

Not a thought in its head

Only following what it knows what is right

Until suddenly it slows and halts.

Sign the name.

Refresh it.

Deep breath in deep breath out. Done.

Rebekah Anderson, Grade 8

Anoka Middle School for the Arts, Anoka Teaching Artist, Frank Sentwali

The Book That Held My Heart

A cover the color of ashes, delicate sheets of softened paper inked with self expression; blank pages filled with potential. Intricate details are defended by a rugged binding. With each turning leaf: a sound like fluttering doves. Images full of color printed in deep black ink, and my mind exposed with fine lines and motionless shapes. The corners curled into each other, the open book spread into a butterfly; stretching itself, flickering its ivory wings. My left hand captivated by vacant pages; visions replace thoughts and the ink from my pen would trickle smoothly down its silver tip. Each tedious line births the question: what will this be? Each detail laying out breadcrumbs; a steppingstone, an answer. My hand dances elegantly, drifting on thin lines; stopping quickly for reassurance. My pen entangled gently with fingers; they have known each other for years.

R. S M., Grade 11 William Kelley High School, Silver Bay Teaching Artist, Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

¡Me L evanto!

I rise up!

I rise up for pancakes, fish, and tiny little chocolates.

I rise up for cats, mice, and turtles.

I rise up to play hide and seek, play musical chairs, and play soccer.

I rise up like the sun, the moon, and the stars.

Acitlali Martinez, Grade 2

Sheridan Arts Spanish Dual Immersion, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist, Danny Solis

Eight Things I’ve Learned as a T.A. in Kindergarten Art

One: When someone’s box of crayons spills across the floor, you should help clean it up—it’ll only take a minute.

Two: Transformers are still cool. Draw as many as you want.

Three: If you stay up past eight o’clock on Sunday night, you won’t have the energy to color in Monday morning art class.

Four: Big kids’ names are hard to remember, but it’s okay to call them The Helper, and when you want their attention, you’ll have it, because they’ve learned to speak the language of confusion: wandering eyes, still hands, hidden papers these are how you call The Helper.

Five: Art doesn’t need to be hard. The Helper will realize this while you color oceans in Sky Blue Cerulean, and then abandon the painting they’ve been working on for weeks to join you, and it’s really calming; you should try it sometime.

Six: Sometimes you need a big kid to spell big words like “mother” and “love,” but even big kids don’t know every word.

Seven: Not everyone’s idea of “mother” is the same as mine. Girls will play pretend, claiming fiercely the role of mother in order to dole out punishment, the greatest power they know, and throw towels in anger.

Eight: The kid who sits at the front of the class, screaming over the teacher and refusing to sit in his seat? He’s used to being yelled at. It’s kindness that will shock him into silence.

Only then will he admit to you that he can’t draw a fish. Before you can ask why, he’ll tell you that he doesn’t know any fish, that he’s stupid, and you can’t think about what he just said because it’s not your job to convince him that he’s smart, that he’s capable, that he is a blank state of endless potential wrapped in five short years—your job is to show him how to draw a fish, and if you take it slow, in time, he will realize he can. His tiny hands will offer you a drawing, shaky lines and bright colors, a moment in time trapped on paper, and it is a fish. Hang it up in your locker, look at it, and every time, wonder how a five-year-old knows the word stupid, why he thinks it’s the adjective that applies to him, but that isn’t your job. Your job is to forget about your own problems for a moment and smile and wave when a small voice calls in the hallway, “I know you from art!” Your job is to walk into the classroom every other Monday, first thing in the morning with a cart full of paint and paper and possibilities, and hope they learn half as much as you do.

Allison Kaiser, Grade 12 William Kelley High School, Silver Bay Teaching Artist, Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

20 20 21 Index by Student Writer

F. A. Rochester STEM Academy 167

N. A. Rochester STEM Academy 188

Hamda Abdi South Senior High School 27

Bashir Abdullahi Meadowbrook Elementary 79

Joseph Adam South View Middle School 133

Olivia Anda Anoka Middle School 26

Rebekah Anderson Anoka Middle School 197

Arthur Anderson Murray Middle School 45

Abby Appleton Oak Hill Montessori 120 Samantha Baker Oak Hill Montessori 4

Ms. Baron's Class Talahi Community School 63

Ms. Bauer's Class Talahi Community School 51

Ms. Bechtold's Class Talahi Community School 59

Zara Bertram Oak Grove Middle School 170 Erin Brandt Roseau High School 185

Mr. Browning's Class Talahi Community School 61

M. C. C. Northeast Middle School 138

Ju'Nya Carpenter Sheridan Elementary 196

Mrs. Cohen's Class Murray Middle School 195

Caleb Colton Saint Paul Academy 153 Abigail Cone Sheridan Elementary 164 Mrs. Conneran's Class Red Lake Elementary 2

Samuel Coombe Anoka Middle School 33 Bowie Curtes Meadowbrook Elementary 68 Ms. Daugherty's Class Highland Elementary 10 Olivia Davis Southview Elementary 101 Ms. Doerrler's Class Mendota Elementary 40 Harper Doyen Hilltop Elementary 93 Mrs. Dunbar's Class Mendota Elementary 39, 40, 53, 57, 67

Faith Dunham Roseau High School 16

Kaylee Eidsmoe Roseau High School 154 Kaden Foster Sheridan Elementary 176 D. G. Sheridan Elementary 194

Kyle

Garay

Sanford Middle School 19

Tahlia Growe Oak Hill Montessori 49

H. H. Southview Elementary 89

N. H. Rochester STEM Academy 155

N. H. Eagle View Elementary 21

Sadie Hann Southview Elementary 70

Lauren Hedlund Roseau High School 12

Mrs. Hockett's Class Mendota Elementary 57

Lillian Ilse Sanford Middle School 64

Nanako Isozaki Northeast Middle School 177

S. J. Sanford Middle School 58

Anton Jahn Vavrus South High School 146 Mrs. Johnson Olsen's Talahi Community School 47

Taletta Jones Lake Harriet Upper School 168

Aryansh K C Cottage Grove Elementary 35 Allison Kaiser William Kelley High School 202

Ariella Kim Saint Paul Academy 3

Addisen Knier South View Middle School 189 Kate Kowalczyk Lake Harriet Upper School 142 Amelia Krings Roseau High School 20

B. L. Southview Elementary 74 Lydia Laabs Park Elementary 62 Mr. Lambert's Class Red Lake Elementary 11 Harper Larsen Saint Paul Academy 48

Saphira Lewen Oak Hill Montessori 4 Megan Lewis Southview Elementary 95

J. M. Rochester STEM Academy 158

Malaya Mack Free Arts of Big Brothers Big Sisters 9 Sadie Maguire Sanford Middle School 151 Ben Manecke Oak Hill Montessori 4

Acitlali Martinez Sheridan Elementary 201 Charlotte McPherson Lake Harriet Upper School 7

Jada Miskell Valley View Middle School 44

Rio Mississippi Sanford Middle School 124

Delaynna Mortvedt Roseau Elementary 76 Ian Nordland South View Middle School 156 Sean O'Connor Roseau High School 191

Jerrell Olbekson Sanford Middle School 135 Sophie Olson Roseau High School 182

N. P. Northeast Middle School 136

Skyy Phillips Free Arts of Big Brothers Big Sisters 161

Hadley Powers Meadowbrook Elementary 81

Kallie Price Hilltop Elementary 99

Sophia Proulx Murray Middle School 30

Amai Rahn Anoka Middle School 13

Ms. Rasmussen's Talahi Community School 24

Martine Reese Roseau Elementary 87

Hazel Renstrom Park Elementary 52

Jonathan Reyes Sanford Middle School 29

Ms. Rimmele's Class Mendota Elementary 67

Ms. Rowles' Class Highland Elementary 22

A. S. Roseau High School 42

R. S M. William Kelley High School 200

Mrs. Sahr's Class Mendota Elementary 39

Ms. Scheid's Class Murray Middle School 60

Kegan Schetnan Meadowbrook Elementary 127

Mazie Solarz Patel South View Middle School 159

Bella Stevenson Shimek South View Middle School 131

Ray'Quan Sydnor Sheridan Elementary 184 Benjamin Thoo Community of Peace Academy 128 Joshua Vail South View Middle School 174

C. W. Southview Elementary 109

T. W. Community of Peace Academy 140 Grace Wadell Bailey Elementary 165 Logan Wagner Northdale Middle School 171

Mr. Wattenphul’s Red Lake Elementary 2, 11

Mia Weaver Lake Harriet Upper School 192

Rachel Wilcox Oak Hill Montessori 4, 178

D. X. Community of Peace Academy 162

Cathleena Yang Community of Peace Academy 38

Aidan Younan Sanford Middle School 56

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Index by School

Anoka Middle School Olivia Anda 26

Anoka Middle School Rebekah Anderson 197

Anoka Middle School Samuel Coombe 33

Anoka Middle School Amai Rahn 13

Bailey Elementary Grace Wadell 165

Community of Peace Academy Benjamin Thoo 128

Community of Peace Academy T W 140 Community of Peace Academy D. X. 162

Community of Peace Academy Cathleena Yang 38

Cottage Grove Elementary Aryansh K C 35

Eagle View Elementary N H 21

Free Arts of Big Brothers Big Sisters Malaya Mack 9

Free Arts of Big Brothers Big Sisters Skyy Phillips 161

Highland Elementary Ms. Daugherty's 10 Highland Elementary Ms. Rowles' Class 22

Hilltop Elementary Harper Doyen 93 Hilltop Elementary Kallie Price 99 Lake Harriet Upper School Taletta Jones 168 Lake Harriet Upper School Kate Kowalczyk 142 Lake Harriet Upper School Charlotte McPherson 7 Lake Harriet Upper School Mia Weaver 192

Meadowbrook Elementary Bashir Abdullahi 79

Meadowbrook Elementary Bowie Curtes 68

Meadowbrook Elementary Hadley Powers 81

Meadowbrook Elementary Kegan Schetnan 127

Mendota Elementary Ms. Doerrler's Class 40

Mendota Elementary Mrs. Dunbar's Class 39, 40, 53, 57, 67

Mendota Elementary Mrs. Hockett's Class 57

Mendota Elementary Ms. Rimmele's 67 Mendota Elementary Mrs. Sahr's Class 39

Murray Middle School Arthur Anderson 45

Murray Middle School Mrs. Cohen's Class 195 Murray Middle School Sophia Proulx 30

Murray Middle School Ms. Scheid's Class 60

Northdale Middle School Logan Wagner 171

Northeast Middle School M C C 138

Northeast Middle School Nanako Isozaki 177

Northeast Middle School N. P. 136

Oak Grove Middle School Zara Bertram 170

Oak Hill Montessori Abby Appleton 120

Oak Hill Montessori Samantha Baker 4

Oak Hill Montessori Tahlia Growe 49

Oak Hill Montessori Saphira Lewen 4

Oak Hill Montessori Ben Manecke 4

Oak Hill Montessori Rachel Wilcox 4, 178

Park Elementary Lydia Laabs 62

Park Elementary Hazel Renstrom 52

Red Lake Elementary Mrs. Conneran's 2

Red Lake Elementary Mr. Lambert's 11

Red Lake Elementary Mr. Wattenphul’s 2, 11

Rochester STEM Academy F. A. 167

Rochester STEM Academy N A 188

Rochester STEM Academy N H 155

Rochester STEM Academy J. M. 158

Roseau Elementary Delaynna Mortvedt 76

Roseau Elementary Martine Reese 87

Roseau High School Erin Brandt 185

Roseau High School Faith Dunham 16

Roseau High School Kaylee Eidsmoe 154

Roseau High School Lauren Hedlund 12

Roseau High School Amelia Krings 20

Roseau High School Sean O'Connor 191

Roseau High School Sophie Olson 182

Roseau High School A. S. 42

Saint Paul Academy Caleb Colton 153

Saint Paul Academy Ariella Kim 3

Saint Paul Academy Harper Larsen 48

Sanford Middle School Kyle Garay 19

Sanford Middle School Lillian Ilse 64

Sanford Middle School S J 58

They’ll see how beautiful I am…

Sanford Middle School

Sadie Maguire 151

Sanford Middle School Rio Mississippi 124

Sanford Middle School

Jerrell Olbekson 135

Sanford Middle School Jonathan Reyes 29

Sanford Middle School

Sheridan Elementary

Sheridan Elementary

Aidan Younan 56

Ju'Nya Carpenter 196

Abigail Cone 164

Sheridan Elementary Kaden Foster 176

Sheridan Elementary D. G. 194

Sheridan Elementary Acitlali Martinez 201

Sheridan Elementary Ray'Quan Sydnor 184

South High School Anton Jahn Vavrus 146

South Senior High School Hamda Abdi 27

South View Middle School Joseph Adam 133

South View Middle School Addisen Knier 189

South View Middle School Ian Nordland 156

South View Middle School Mazie Solarz Patel 159

South View Middle School Bella Stevenson Shimek 131

South View Middle School Joshua Vail 174

Southview Elementary Olivia Davis 101 Southview Elementary Sadie Hann 70 Southview Elementary H. H. 89 Southview Elementary B. L. 74 Southview Elementary Megan Lewis 95 Southview Elementary C W 109

Talahi Community School Ms. Baron's Class 63

Talahi Community School Ms. Bauer's Class 51

Talahi Community School Ms. Bechtold's 59

Talahi Community School Mr. Browning's 61

Talahi Community School Mrs. Johnson Olsen's 47

Talahi Community School Ms. Rasmussen's 24

Valley View Middle School Jada Miskell 44

William Kelley High School Allison Kaiser 202 William Kelley High School R S M 200

CO

Alexei Moon

Casselle

Alison Bergblom Johnson

Beverly Cottman

Caley Vickerman

Charlie Maguire

Danny Solis

Desdamona (Heather Ross)

Eric Sharp

Frank Sentwali

Glenda Reed

Guante (Kyle Tran Myhre)

Jen Scott

Jon Lurie

Joyce Sidman

Julia Klatt Singer

Kashimana Ahua

Kevin Strauss

Kristoff Krane (Christopher Keller)

Lauren Carlson

Louis Porter II

MaLLy

Marie Olofsdotter

May Lee Yang

Morgan Grayce Willow

Naomi Cohn

Saymoukda Vongsay

See More Perspective

Stephen Peters

Tou SaiK

Zoë Bird

COMPAS works with over 120 of the top Teaching Artists in Minnesota. Our Roster of Artists includes writers, theater artists, visual artists, dancers, musicians, and more. To read more about these artists visit COMPAS.org.

COMPAS Mission and Programs

COMPAS delivers creative experiences that unleash the potential within all of us.

Creative Classroom

Creativity is not owned by the arts, it is taught by them. We connect students from kindergarten to 12th grade with the life changing power of creativity, reaching over 30,000 school children across Minnesota each year with residencies, workshops and performances. Our skilled Teaching Artists teach professional art techniques, build connections with classroom curriculum, explore history and cultural diversity, and nurture student potential.

Access Yes!

Catalyzing creativity in all students through the arts. COMPAS works with special education classrooms, schools that specifically serve students with cognitive or physical differences, and or schools that specialize in content tailored toward students with autism or social emotional needs. We aim to give all students the opportunity to benefit from our artists' attention and expertise.

Creative Community

Those who create the art define the culture.

Access Arts

Empowering people of all abilities through the arts. Making art and connecting with each other through the arts stimulates the brain, reminds us who we are, and helps us know how to say all we want to say. COMPAS teaching artists create new access to a variety of creative experiences through performances, workshops, and long term residencies.

AnyPlace Arts

Bringing the arts wherever you are. From libraries, parks and festivals to after-school programs, shelters and recreation centers, COMPAS delivers enriching, creativity growing experiences to all Minnesotans.

Artful Aging™

Creativity gives us purpose. Purpose is what keeps us alive. Artists work side by side with adults 55+ who live independently and in senior living centers. Engaging, artistic experiences bring joy and satisfaction to seniors as they discover new talents and renew old ones.

Arts in Healthcare

When words fail to express, creativity allows us to heal. Our Arts in Healthcare programs strengthen community and wellness through professional arts performances and instruction. Creativity stimulates recovery, increases quality of life and connects staff and patients.

Youth Arts

Creating a brighter future. Youth Arts programming equips youth to reach new heights. Inspired by their interests in the arts, youth learn life and business skills to help them succeed anywhere.

Women’s Writing Program

Helping women create better lives and brighter futures. The Advisory Task Force on Justice Involved Women and Girls began a poetry writing program for women in Minnesota county jails and recently partnered with COMPAS to incorporate the program into our offerings. The program has grown to include Sherburne, Washington, and Ramsey County jails.

Our talented writers, musician s, visual artists and performance artists inspire all ages wit h hands - on programs throughout Minnesota.

For more information on any of these programs contact COMPAS at: 651.292.3249 or info@compas.org.

COMPAS S taff 20 20 21

Dawne Brown White, Executive Director

Marlaine Cox, Arts Program Manager

Zach Goldberg, Arts Program & Marketing Coordinator

Joan Linck, Director of Strategic Development

Troy Linck, Marketing Manager

Elwyn Ruud, Northwest Area Arts Coordinator

Emma Seeley, Arts Program Manager

Julie Strand, Arts Program Director

COMPAS Board of Directors 20 20 21

Yvette Trotman, President

Elizabeth Sheets, President Elect

Mimi Stake, Vice President

Jeff Goldenberg, Treasurer

Amy Lucas, Secretary (started 7.1.2021)

Kathy Sanville, Secretary (ended 6.30.2021)

Mae Brooks, Human Resources Chair (ended 9.30.2020)

Tracy Morrow, Human Resources Chair (started 11.30.2021)

Virajita Singh, Executive Committee At Large

Thuong Thai, Strategic Plan Chair

Keven Ambrus

Iren Bishop

Ann Dayton

Christopheraaron Deans (ended 6.30.2021)

Jessica Gessner

Andrew Leizens

Dr. Louis Porter II (started 2.1.2021)

Margaret (Greta) Rudolph

Sonya Šustáček (started 2.1.21)

Dameun Strange

Emeritus Board

Cheryl Bock

Roderic Hernub Southall

The Lillian Wright Awards for Creative Writing

The Lillian Wright Awards recognize literary achievement among young writers in the COMPAS Creative Classroom Program. Generously underwritten by the Lillian Wright and C. Emil Berglund Foundation, the award winners and their schools are celebrated at the publication event in December along with all the students within these pages. This year’s judge is the anthology’s editor Danny Solis.

The winners are:

BEST WRITING, GRADES K-3:

“¡Me Levanto!,” by Acitlali Martinez , Grade 2, Sheridan Arts Spanish Dual Immersion, Minneapolis

BEST WRITING, GRADES 4 6:

“Halmoni,” by Ariella Kim , Grade 5, Saint Paul Academy, Saint Paul

BEST WRITING, GRADES 7 8:

“The Painting,” by Rebekah Anderson , Grade 8 Anoka Middle School for the Arts, Anoka

BEST WRITING, GRADES 9 12:

“What is a Man?” by Anton Jahn Vavrus , Grade 12, South Senior High School, Minneapolis

BEST WRITING OVERALL, GRADES K - 12:

“Eight Things I’ve Learned as a T.A. in Kindergarten

Art,” by A llison Kaiser , Grade 12, William Kelley High School, Silver Bay

Lillian Wright Awards Judge & Editor Bio s

Danny Solis lives in Rochester, Minnesota with his wonderful son Teagan and their silly dog Max. He has been a professional poet and educator for over 30 years. (Danny not Max.) Danny is an old jazz head from way back and enjoys gardening, reading, and making fried chicken, green beans and fries for him and Teagan. Solis is a firm believer that poetry saves lives, and that literacy makes everything better, everything.

Teagan Solis, 14, lives in Rochester with his parents, his dog, and two cats. Teagan likes to spend his days playing Overwatch, Apex Legends, and reading graphic novels. He stands at a staggering stature of 6’3.

His favorite meal is fried chicken, green beans, and fries, followed by a big slice of cheesecake.

Thank you to our supporters!

Every year this anthology is assembled and printed, it is with support from the Lillian Wright and C. Emil Berglund Foundation. Thank you for making this collection of writings from youth possible!

We also thank Minnesota taxpayers. This activity is made possible by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board thanks to a legislative appropriation from the arts and cultural heritage fund.

COMPAS and the Hugh J. Andersen Foundation

For almost 30 years, the Hugh J. Andersen Foundation has invested in COMPAS and its art education program, serving the east metro of the Twin Cities and western Wisconsin counties. Early on, the Hugh J. Andersen Foundation board recognized the life-long benefits K-12 students received from COMPAS’ Poets and Writers in the Schools program. When the program expanded to other artforms, the foundation continued its support. Over the years, their support has impacted the lives of hundreds of thousands of students by bringing participatory, creative experiences right into classrooms and after school programs.

In 2021, we recognize the Hugh J. Andersen Foundation for their commitment to students and for their faithful support of COMPAS. It is with deep appreciation that we acknowledge this ongoing support – Thank You!