a fire, a river, a window

a fire, a river, a window

a fire, a river, a window

Selected Works from the COMPAS

Creative Classroom Program

Edited by May Lee-Yang

Cover art by Deacon Warner

Interior art by

Roshan Ganu

Please be advised that the writing included in this book comes from a wide range of young voices. Students ages 5-18 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 students we celebrate in this book.

The title for the anthology, a fire, a river, a window, is taken from Vicente Wong-Busse’s piece “Lima, Perú” on page 161

Book production: Emma Seeley, Emrys Yang and Julie Strand, COMPAS staff

Book design: Emma E-M Seeley

ISBN 978-0-927663-83-0

Cover art 2023 by COMPAS Teaching Artist Deacon Warner still from film titled "Ganga to Mississippi: The Confluence of Waters"

Interior art 20 23 by COMPAS Teaching Artist Roshan Ganu Music, additional words, arrangements 20 23 by COMPAS Teaching Artist Charlie Maguire and Mello-Jamin Music

Text 2023 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

450 Syndicate Street North, Suite 325

Saint Paul, Minnesota 55104

COMPAS.org

Dear Community, Fam, Friends and Strangers,

I am a fan of the universe–that it will answer your call and that it has a larger design for all of us. When COMPAS first handed me a binder of stories, poems, and songs from all the students who participated in this past year’s writing residency program, all the writing was organized alphabetically by school names. As I read each piece, I highlighted phrases that could be a possible title for this collection and possible titles for the subsections. After typing up all the words I had highlighted, I came to this realization: I had accidentally created a cento.

I am a fan of centos. Sometimes called “a patchwork poem,” a cento is a collage of lines taken from existing poems to create a new piece. Because I am a fan of the universe and of centos, I left this accidental poem intact for you to read just the way it revealed itself to me. It is a collection of youth voices from Minnesota and offers a sneak peek into the imagination, the passion, the cries, the requests, the declarations, the talent, and the promises of the new generation.

Will my generation be the change?

from skin to bone

To buy hearts and souls

In my diamond mind

I feel like a strong tree

We / are still human

Look around and see

Let their memory live on

I hope you answer the call

Will you listen

We are touching the sky

The path of a warrior

Walk in my life / Walk in my body

I have been called / a border hopper

She played with dragonflies

Bustles like a beast

A fire / a river / a window

If a whale / were swimming / through my skull

I fish out words

So dream, child / Dream

I’m a wildfire

All of these stories, poems, and songs are a conversation with each other and with us, the reader. JazMiah Elliott asks, “Will you listen?” Brandon Jackson writes, “I hope you answer the call.” I am inspired to do both, and I hope you do as well.

Sincerely,

May Lee-Yang, editor

Section 1: Skin to Bone

Change

My generation can make a change right?

Can my generation change what all these old people did?

Can it change the pollution?

The police brutality?

Can it change, people putting people, in cages?

My generation is adding to the pollution. It’s trying to change the police brutality, but we aren't just there yet.

My generation brought awareness to serious topics but Can we really change it

Some of us still kids

Old people looking down on us

Old people asking why we’re lazy

Why this generation so violent

Why this generation addicted to technology? Why this?

Why that?

Instead of asking What can we do to help you change things

But why would they ask?

My generation wants justice even so…we are also the ones adding to the fuel. We make jokes and comments to each other Or even strangers. Why?

Because it's “funny” Or is it just…because.

I have been called

A border hopper In gym class

For protecting the flag In the gam Capture the flag.

My generation can swoop so low sometimes And we say we still want change.

But if we want change

We have to change ourselves first.

But if we can't do that

Then I don't know if we can have change.

But

My generation can make a change right?

Andrea VelasquezRivera, Grade 9

Patrick Henry High School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Disconnected

In your room, You draw the curtains tight. It’s pitch black. The darkness unfolds like a black hole, ready to swallow you whole,

Like a crow unfurling its wings, blocking out the sun. And the only thing you feel like you can do in defense Is to draw your digital screen in front of you like a sword. The blue light brightens up the space like a shield. You join a video game on your computer, You text your friend funny memes on your phone, You FaceTime a group chat you had just gotten off a call with one hour previous. And suddenly

Your screen

Glitches, Blinking a brilliant black, A shocking shade of white, And/or any color in-between. Or it goes completely blank And flashes one dreaded word: Disconnected.

Do you wonder wordlessly about what you are going to do when you’re Not texting, Not talking, Not gaming, And not watching purposeless videos on social media, ones that are fake yet try to convince you otherwise? What happens to you without your screens, your life, when you get Disconnected?

It’s not just the screens that have become glitching and breaking.

You haven’t only been

Kicked out of the game, mourning it even if it was one you hate,

Ejected from the app that you spent dollar after dollar to update,

“Forced” to take up the dinosaur game as the only thing you can play.

(The small, pixelated form is impaled over and over again by cacti.)

Your friends and families

Are getting disconnected themselves Because of you,

Although you might not, do not know. But there are people are out there who want to reach out to you,

To spend time with you, Time that is not virtual, Time that does not involve a screen.

But you are staring at that blank electronic wishing you hadn’t gotten disconnected, Unaware of the plugs you pull, The screens you smash, The internet you destroy,

And they are left waiting, Gripping on tight to an empty, husk of a promise. Sucked into your screen, you can’t see their frustration, Their exasperation,

Of you pulling out your phone to text your friend, Or show them a quick video, Or find a meme collection.

Don’t think they can’t see the flash of your phone as you take selfies with SnapChat filters, Or catch you playing some random games on your computer at school

Or sitting with earbuds in on a road trip while they sit next to you, staring out the window and watching the large, magnificent trees fly past,

Because those are the only things they can watch while you cast them aside,

Worrying about possibly getting

Disconnected.

Because they can see you, And they can feel their internet connection with you Severed, the satellites of their entire interactions with you forgotten and gone, Shot out into space but never recovered. Searched for at first, but eventually abandoned, And you never knew what you did. Because you are too Attached to the screen to notice like a charging plug to your computer, Invested in the video you watch to get rid of your thoughts, Disconnected.

But I know what you did. (And I’m not saying that I have never done the same myself.) You abandoned your best friend for a phone. You forgot your younger sibling was waiting for you alone while you played on your iPad. You ignored your family to call your friends, Talking about meaningless things while your dinner plate lies cold on the table and your chair stands unoccupied, Full of wasted delicacies your caretaker cooked just for you, Knowing it was your favorite, Trying to compel you to come downstairs, Hoping it would draw you away from the blue light that stole Your body, Your mind, And your soul.

But sooner or later they will realize that your plug has been jerked from the socket. Slowly, their battery will be drained

One Bar

At a time.

And soon, they will stop trying, and you’ll stay Shut out from reality,

Only taking in what you see from those screens. And all of your close ones Will finally know that you are gone, Taken into the treacherous world of technology, Lost in the vast, electronic void. Disconnected.

I’d bet if planets could share their emotions, the Earth would say, “This is not what I had expected, I evolved over billions of years to support a natural cycle, Not this lifestyle of you on these glowing windows that you can’t even look through, Taking resources from the rest of this previously green planet and not giving it back, All to make… these screens? These screens where you neglect everyone and everything, even your own species?”

What went wrong? Screens did.

Screens, the small glowing windows that do not show what really exists.

Screens, the devices that shot the satellites out too far into space.

Screens, wrapping their cruel, tight charging cords around you.

At one point they were hard to come by. At one time, they were used entirely for the economy and work But now, many people have one although we don’t need one.

But you can return.

Cast your eyes upward, Break free from the screen, And realize all the connections you have destroyed. We can use the screens to help the planet, Instead of tuning the desolation out entirely. It isn’t too late for you to set the computer down,

And to return to the world that came into existence billions of years ago.

Tyyna Hall , Grade 7

Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview

Teaching Artists: Desdamona, See More Perspective, Danny Solis, and Guante (Kyle Tran Myhre)

a fire, a river, a window

ToxicCycle

Cycle by cycle repeating again, an endless page with no stops, no periods. The phrase "Boys will be boys," How is that an excuse for bad behavior, And little to no care, For girls, be aware.

Of how your son treats us, Harassing, heckling, and hounding them. The moment you say something to these so-called adults, they say "they are only teasing because they probably like you."

How does harassment turn to a little school crush, That doesn't make up for the all-day rain that comes from "young lady's" eyes the moment school ends. The side comments and laughter isn't just a joke; Phrases pack purpose, look up a dictionary.

I wish someone could just be a visionary, A leader who actually fights for our rights. To deal with the savage bullies, Who terrorize girls, leaving in despair Inequality reigns, a thief that robs justice and care.

After school girls get on the bus just to sit on their way ride home these boys won't quit They sit and listen with no care to bullies Telling parents and teachers but they don't understand fully A bully is like a fly, Always bugging you, never letting you lie. How can you think that I'm enjoying this?

Walk in alone, In a room filled with people, Someone grabs her,

She screams,

But they ignore all the evil. In public when a girl gets touched, Grabbed, and in danger, Seeing it all, yet failing to take action, No one to speak out, For everyone to stop for a moment and hear and do something.

Screams for help fall on deaf ears, The room is silent, echoes ringing.

Skirts and tights

Men gaze on girls

Keep your eyes off

Clothing is not an immediate yes

For you to willing touch a girl that is unconscious How does that justify your actions?

A man somehow is the victim

In every rape story

Always pleading and begging

Saying Clothes

Is the issue that Clothes

Made them out of control and crazy Cycle by cycle repeating again.

Diamond Valencia-Wiyaka, Grade 8

Northeast Middle School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

BeEarth’sHero

Verse 1

Pollution is flying

There’s trash in the lakes

Sealife is dying

We need to slam on the brakes

Cutting the trees

Wrecks our habitats

Animals have no place to live

What can be worse than that?

Chorus

We can be earth’s hero

By making a change

Planting trees

Picking up trash

One small thing today (Repeat)

Verse 2

Give earth some relief

By keeping the oceans clean

We can save our coral reef

Recycle and go green

Chorus

We can be earth’s hero

By making a change

Planting trees

Picking up trash

One small thing today (Repeat)

Bridge

We are all connected in this ecosystem

Like family full of love

When we take care of each other

We can rise above

Chorus

We can be earth’s hero

By making a change

Planting trees

Picking up trash

One small thing today (Repeat)

Mr. MiChristoffer’sClass , Grade 2 & 3

Park Elementary, Le Sueur

Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

Walk a mile in my shoes

Young mixed king

Too white for the blacks but still too black for the whites

I stay focused on the end prize

The presidential legacy of mine

As I walk I feel as I have a chip on my shoulder

My head held high like a deer in the headlights Confidence

Walk a mile in my shoes

The shoes of someone who is misunderstood by the understood

Without a chance to prove Wait wait

That's not me, I sprout out the ground like a young willow tree.

Labels put on me

They see TALL BLACK and assume Assume I’m NOT SMART WISE KIND RESPECTFUL

No, they think Mean, uncontrollable needs extra help less than Misunderstood

As I grow into my purpose I start to walk down a quiet foggy path

Where I see less and less people have the strength to keep walking the path of a warrior I keep my tunnel vision

My throat starts getting puffy

As i start stumbling over my words Unable to truly spit out how I feel

So I find my peace

What I love most

The rock

The basketball I close my eyes and just feel the grooves on the ball glide threw my hands

And I just play

The shiny court the competition but most importantly the lessons

Basketball taught me to be disciplined Smart and good work ethic

A feeling you can only absorb

A feeling that is nonetheless love

Don't walk in my shoes

walk in my life walk in my body I live without a chance to be my age

Without a chance

To be myself

Forced to be a leader

I didn't choose this life it chose me

And every once and while I get a bitter sweet punch in the mouth To remind me to stay focused and don't look back

Nico Luitjens Weatherspoon, Grade 8

Northeast Middle School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Listen

I look around at the faces in the park, A small patch what’s left of me I see A frowning man a smiling kid

Pointing and laughing at the cranes and the trucks I wonder Does he know?

Does he know that in a week This park will be a pit

Two more weeks

This pit will be a parking lot parking lot for the superstore next door trees and earth lamp posts and concrete singing birds squeaking shopping carts. It's all the same To you anyway

I scream See me

I wonder Does he know?

Does he know a river once ran through here A tree of life and A breeze of peace Now Gas and smoke and concrete Blind me

Your green blinds you You forget my green The green The green that Gave And the green that Saved And the green that Loved I scream I exist

You don’t bat an eye While I die in the corner lost Swept up in your New fantasy world

Excitement in the crowd But behind the curtain Is where you hide

Me What I was

And what I’ve become Because of You

You don’t see me My body scattered Fragmented

My skin mangled From your knife My flesh Burning From your flame My heart pounding Pounding Pounding on the cage you helped build

I scream Let me go

I look at my park Hidden behind your “progress” I don’t recognize what I see I mean I see me but My rivers run dry And my trees creak and fall And my breeze only blows cold cold cold

I’m cold I’m tired I’m hurt I am an overworked old man I am a broken crying child I am every animal on the verge of extinction

Violet Scalise, Grade 8

Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

NervousSystem

To be Native.

On the news, I heard about the then 260 missing indigenous women and my mom turned to me and said, “Arianna, don’t you ever go out alone or without telling anyone where you are.”

At that moment

My 7 year old self couldn’t comprehend why, I now know what she meant. Today

4,200 missing indigenous cases Go unsolved, Unjustified, And uncared for. Gone.

Just as fast as our neurons travel through our spinal cord

To tell out brain that, “Ooh, something hurts.” Gone.

Just as fast as Glial cells Die when Alzheimer's develops. Gone.

Just as fast

As they were taken. When I was a young child I had no clue who I was because In the media I saw no other human who looks like me And

For the short time I did have an idea of who I could be It was incorrect.

Because I fully believed that I was from india because of How many times People referred to my people as “Indians”. When I was 10 I fell into a depression because I believed that no matter how much I study, I would amount to nothing great,

Because of all the toxicity That flew through my thoughts, Because of society and school officials who told me And countless of my other brothers and sisters, that “Wild Savages” like us Couldn’t be successful Rendering many of us sad and stupendously despaired . Because of the society that made me believe that Nobody Would ever think of a Native American in a lab Or A hospital.

Or

A place where its considered the “White mans job.” Even now, I still see injustices

Towards Native Americans

That nobody cares for, Like how I see people rave about their new Moon shaped dreamcatcher they bought, No, not for catching their negative dreams, No,

Not for them to feel closer to their passed family, But just to hang in a corner

Of Their room simply for Decoration.

Or how

People talk about their spirit animal, The animal that guides you, Not only through your life But through the Afterlife. Is a cat Why?

Because Its their favorite animal. Or how

People say that “Racism towards Native Americans isn’t That bad”

Because They compare it to racism towards African Americans, Asian Americans, Latinx and Hispanics, And any other cultures That have not only been shamed for who they are born as, But who were also Killed For who they are. Maybe when people start to Accept

That bigotry cannot be compared, Accept

That being native is as natural as Our brain being made up of The cerebrum, hindbrain, fore brain, and midbrain. Accept

That we are all different In Our own unique ways. Maybe then, We can heal Not just as individuals, But

As a group in whole. Maybe then, We can stand as tall as the trees, As free as a bird, As resilient as the ocean, As wise as a old lady, And as formed as the millions of neurons In our body. In the news

I heard about the now 5,178 missing indigenous women cases.

Arianna Daniels, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

GrowingUp

From baby to child to teen the influences we have growing up

Impact us. You know they say “Do as I say not as I do’’

But action speaks louder than words and that has an effect on the children growing up. It can cause damage to a child

Like T-cells

That don't have enough nutrients to develop correctly.

If children grow up without strength Without health

Without an education

It can be hard for them to function in the system of society.

Our primary caregivers

There to protect us

Like skin

Not letting a virus in. From teen to adult

as we get older and get jobs

If we are too lazy or simply don't do our jobs

We can not work

As a society. You see we all have different responsibilities. Some of us to protect like Killer-T cells fighting off an infection. Some of us who have a plan, patience, and power. Work like Helper-T cells telling other cells to get ready to fight. Some of us who sit back, take note, and make sure we don't repeat the same mistake again work like Memory cells that remember the virus so they know how to fight it next time. And as we go on from baby, to child, to teen, to adult,

to senior. We realize If we can work together. Like the immune system working in harmony to fight off a virus. It would be easier for us to achieve our goals and survive.

Jacqueline

“Kiki” Rowland, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

May24, 2020

19 students and 2 teachers found dead Is what fills my screen. Period 2.

Me and my best friend plan out how we would escape If an active shooter were to come into the building. I used to be afraid of diseases like Autoimmune or Cancer but on that day, A new thing to be afraid of Was brought into my life. Period 3.

I think back to a time When code red drills merely meant hiding in a corner Because nine-year-olds shouldn’t be scared of a shooter Coming into their school.

Period 4.

I think.

My generation. The ones meant to “save the world” The world that the ones before us threw their litter on… And expected us to be their trash clean up. Period 5.

In order to “save the world” we need to be alive and Protected. Protected by the ones in charge, Period 6.

Argue about the issue while the traumatized children and families of Robb elementary school Suffer due to a problem that shouldnt even be a problem in The first place. I think.

I think,

If we see a problem then how do we fix it But how do we fix it if the eyes Being used to see the problem, Are blinded to what the real issue is?

I watch the footage of the police, In the building.

The police, Who KNEW there were kids alive in the classroom of 14 kids….

Took an hour and fourteen minutes to respond. Children who were alive and living their hearts,

*Beat*

*beat..*

*Beating…*

This body, This childs body, That's blood pumps and heart beats… Means so little once lost. Shootings have become normalized. One happens Just to be forgotten by the next, But I refuse to forget!

May 24th 2022 at Robb Elementary School.

Matilda Grey, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Immune

Not Immune to War

Our bodies are a battleground

And pathogens threaten to conquer all we hold dear

Our body, our resolve, our mind, our lives

And so we fight

With a refusal for negotiation

With an iron will for desecration

Sometimes with no motivation

This is the interior and the exterior

This is war

They had gotten over our wall

They had gotten under our skin

Rallied to the cause, soldiers poured into positions

And so we fight

The soldiers B brought out the artillery

The soldiers KT destroyed the enemy

The soldiers HT commanded the crew

The soldiers Memory saw the germs through

This is the interior and the exterior

This is war

We lost some men

We lost some cells

We can repair the damage, and it's just as well

Was it worth it though, or not?

And so we fought

The war has been won, but at what cost?

Ari Felming-Crawford, Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis

Teaching

Artist: Frank Sentwali

Peace is an Ocean

Peace is an ocean turning with the tides, accept it or reject it, we will be wrecked if you reject

Peace is a mighty redwood, no matter how tall or how strong, it will never stand alone

Peace is a panda, a mix of Yin and Yang but always with shades of gray

Peace is the sunrise lighting up your day

Peace is the season of spring embracing and accepting the world.

Zain Abdilatif, Grade 4 Meadowbrook, Golden Valley

Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

Albatross

The howling gusts of wind and rain batter the lone lighthouse on the cliff.

The keeper trudges through the sodden sea grass and weeds, her bright yellow raincoat held tight against the rain.

She thinks she sees the shadowy ghost of a ship out on the sea, but the rain and wind and the deafening sound of her heart thumping in her chest make it hard to see much of anything.

The beam from the lighthouse flashes again, and again, and again.

Every fifteen seconds the light makes a full rotation and flashes its pale yellow beam into the dark abyss of the sea.

The keeper imagines a ship being tossed among the waves like a ragdoll.

She sees the crew being hurled into the sea, The waves swallowing them whole.

She turns the light’s crank faster. Click click click.

The sandbag rises and the light continues to turn.

She imagines herself on the deck of one of those water sodden ships.

She sees herself tossed into the roiling, salty waves. She sees herself be swallowed.

If the keeper focuses hard enough, she can feel the water forcing its way down her throat,

the saltiness turning her mouth to brittle paper aged yellow by time.

She glances out of the tiny window set into the stone.

Carefully wiping away the dust and fog.

She sees no ships.

But she knows she must keep the light on.

Marley Schumacher, Grade 12

William Kelley High, Silver Bay

Teaching Artist: Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

Section 2: Walk In My Body

MyHeart, Likea River

If my heart was a river, it would be spilling over the banks Sunshine, reflecting light onto all the things that surround it Like love beaming onto others

A warm current rushing through, as happiness spreads throughout Sometimes, this river may be frozen

A hard layer of ice covering, protecting the flowing water underneath It takes time to get through that ice

But underneath you find wonderful things

Graceyn Kvsager, Grade 8

Red Lake County Central School, Oklee

Teaching Artist: Desdamona

Coalesce

I remember sitting on my bathroom floor at 12 years old crying. A child crying on the floor after cutting their long hair to something short and uneven. I remember my mom saying I look like a boy, and not caring. I remember later that year praying to a god I didn't believe in to fix me, make me normal.

I remember being 13, looking into the mirror, dressed in a dark blue dress, and seeing everything wrong. Rounded cheeks and jaws, a chest that I didn't want sticking out, curves snaking like a river. I had envy of Aphrodite, who embraced their femininity.

I was 14 when I decided I was done with my chest, trying to press it flat against my ribs daily. My body was not mine. It felt like having two left hands and being told that was normal. This body was so uncomfortable.

Even I remember being 7 and shopping in the boys section at target because I hated pink.

I remember coming out to my dad when I was 14, getting told it was just a phase, and I'd always be his ‘little girl.’ I'll always remember.

I remember being 15 and reading one book, mesmerized by a character: Max. I took his name, and claimed it as mine. I am Max. For once, I felt proud of proving it was not a phase. But I remember, sitting in a classroom, and being called her. I wasn’t her. I never was. I remember being him, finally introducing myself to people as Max.

Even if you think l'm her, I'm him.

Is your value of me based on an identity, or is that your own perspective? Your own myopic lens, judging me, viewing what you want to see.

I am my own person, not your expectations.

Max Severson, Grade 10

Tri-County Schools, Karlstad

Teaching Artist: SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

TheGeniusofMyGoldenBronzeSkin

My life as a black young man nothing is expected of me.

People see me and clutch their bags and I can see the fear in their faces.

They see me and go “thug,” another convict another problem. The thought never crossing their mind that I didn’t choose my skin color, that I’m not the horrible person that they have pictured in their mind. They’re always tell me stay safe or don’t do nothing stupid why am I held to such a low standard, is it because of my dreads?

Does it make them uncomfortable?

But it’s just a hairstyle when a white person wears it. I can’t walk around with my hoodie or else I look “suspicious” I can’t wear certain clothes so people around feel comfortable. Nothing is expected of me, they expect me to end up in jail like a caged bird or to be a part of a gang like a wolf in a pack but not the right way or shot BAM but that’s not what I have planned for myself but I can’t express myself without coming of as aggressive or told that I’m dreaming too big and that people like us don’t make it big. Of course a black man can’t be a doctor or lawyer or have an actual career, we’re all expected to drug deal or steal to make money but when was that the standard in what generation were we not supposed to make something of ourselves but my generation can change … right?

One light at a time to light up this dark world and warm the heart in this world it takes one person to inspire the next person, it takes one generation to change the next so why would I feed into their stereotypes of me when they don’t even know me. They only know the dark brown delicate color of my skin and that is not enough to define me nor pretend or defend who I am.

Tyrese Kaigboyah, Grade 9

Edison High School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

SIRENA

Ella que se enoja pierde.

The rubies dripping from my lips

Are not my spell, but rather my say

Chandelier shattered across the quay

Cages flickering volatility, merely an eclipse

Ella que se enoja pierde.

I am a siren to be kept at bay

But my snarling quips

Are not my spell, but rather my say

My skirt measured higher than the other girls’ today

And the length of my patience shorter, fabric rips

Ella que se enoja pierde.

Compliments whispered in my ear weigh

Like cracks in glass — like silence afterwards, sharp scripts

Are not my spell, but rather my say.

Mia Tamez, Grade 12

Perpich Arts High School, Golden Valley

Teaching Artist: Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

AkoAngPinoy

“Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese.” I don’t remember all of the chant, but I remember how people would pull their eyelids back and sing that stupid rant in the lunch line towards me.

I wasn’t any of those ethnicities but they still labeled me as one of the three to at least a degree.

“You have Chinese eyes.”

But I am not Chinese?

My eye shape wasn’t even close to the folds of their eye holes.

“I bet you like dogs.”

Yes, but not for dinner.

“She’s Asian. She likes rice.”

And that’s quite precise.

I’ve heard so many comments with so much nonsense

All because of my concepts.

I thought they were being inclusive, turns out they were just delusive.

I’ve never lived in rich, white neighborhoods. It was mainly Native reservations with drug deals and broke ideals.

I remember hiding from a guy because he got high and all the kids knew that they had to hide.

Police never came until one was deceased.

I learned how to save money and salvage one each.

I learned a few things on my own that no kid should ever know

Not to make it sound bad or dramatic

I just never lived

In rich, white neighborhoods.

I never learned my own language.

My momma was the only one who spoke my homeland languages fluently

And we never talked.

I know that sounds bad but whenever we did talk I tried to learn so I could gain some part of my culture back.

I lost my language,

my identity, and my sense of belonging. If I lost all that, how was I supposed to make my momma happy?

She played with dragonflies so I could play on a phone. She married into an unhappy marriage where she couldn’t practice her culture just so I could live in a proper infrastructure. So when people make fun of me for being Asian I make fun of them for not knowing that China, Japan, and Taiwan aren’t the only Asian countries.

Ako ang Pinoy.

I am Pinoy and I’ll always be proud of my home country of Kitcharau Del Norte.

In the words of our first true Filipino rapper on the news, “three stars and a sun. No, we never fear none.”

Jasmine Barlow, Grade 9

Roseau Secondary, Roseau

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

StageFright

Dark as midnight

With no moon or stars

Millions of eyes open

And stare at me . . .

Silently stalking as I stutter

I swallow my spit and begin to speak

It may not seem like it but I’m at my peak

Fear crawls down my spine

I shake it off

As a tidal wave of appreciation

Rumbles up an earthquake in my heart

And power

Ms. Lindberg & Mrs. Schramm’s Class, Grade 4

Valentine Hills Elementary, Arden Hills

Teaching Artist: SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

ATributetoRage

How many times have I heard that I cannot hold onto my anger

that it will rot and burn inside of me like a match thrown into gasoline that it will consume me and drive away anyone that could have cared watching from a safe distance as I burn myself to the ground destroying the paper life around me

I’m told it will consume me but where are the pails of water, the firemen a line of people frantically trying to save the remnants of an unkempt home stained with the tears of a mouse, staring in the face of an angry giant to keep the little ones behind her from descending to ash by the same flame

I’m told it will drive me crazy but how can you blame a fire for raging when we know who lit the match

I’m told that I’m a wildfire, a ticking bomb, a bad omen but I am a phoenix and I can’t wait to watch you burn

Inga Lakey, Grade 12

William Kelley High, Silver Bay

Teaching Artist: Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

What GoesUnsaid

I hate how mediocre I write, I fish out words with little meaning and throw them on a page People say I’m gifted, talented When I was younger maybe that was true But right now? God, right now.

My grades are like an alphabet soup. I pull out one, and it’s an A! But, the next is a C.

Maybe, if I was who people thought I was, I could be better Maybe, if I worked harder I could reach for the stars

But I don’t.

I hate how mediocre I feel, I hate not knowing what comes next. I hate this

I hate this feeling of doubt when it comes to anything at all I hate me

I hate the me that can’t think without other people telling him to.

I’m angry. Everytime I speak it’s as if there’s something in the back of my mind

Something waiting to come out and scream

But, it’s not angry at the world

I’m not angry at the world

I’m angry at myself.

I’m angry that, no matter how much I try I’ll never be good enough

Because I’m afraid

Afraid of my peers

Afraid of my family

Of my friends

Of me.

I hate how mediocre my future seems

To be unsure of what I want

Do I want to hurt?

Do I want to Live? I’m unsure of it all.

I hate it all. Every inch of my body is foreign

Every thought in my mind is unwanted I am foreign I am unwanted

Alistar Gundberg, Grade 8

Valley View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

TheSecret War

The Vietnam war wasn’t just the U.S. and Nam, North Vietnam didn’t know that the U.S. recruited the Hmong.

And they said, “Oh come on!”

The helicopters were as fast as cheetahs.

The U.S. were in the mountains, making deals, and they promised, no steals.

Guns blazing, Bombs glazing, Trees falling, people dying.

People leaving the country, like flies leaving a dead body.

But no one knew the Hmong were there, because people were focusing on how the Americans were doing in the war.

South Vietnamese were treated as scum.

People couldn't tell there were two types of Nam. Then, Hmong immigrants moved to the U.S.

Guns were saying, “Give me a break!” Communism is bad, you know that!

Soldiers moving to Minnesota, so their lives can progress. My grandpa fought, he was shot in his chest.

He's okay, he’s living his best.

Here I am, sitting in my house.

So remember, the Vietnam war wasn’t just The U.S. and Nam!

Phynn Yang, Grade 5

Royal Oaks Elementary School, Woodbury

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

MyStory

Starting the first page in my book

Beginning to breathe the oxygen going through my lungs

My parents hearing my first cry

Overwhelmed with joy that I arrived

Learning how to function in this world

My first ever steps and words

Turning the page in my book

Meeting lifelong friends in this Weird place that we call “school”

Shopping and getting the coolest earrings at Claire’s

Loving the time I spend with my family

Not a single worry in the world

Turning the page in my book

Looking forward for the Scholastic Book Fair to come back

Using folders during tests so that no one could “cheat”

Lip singing the songs during school concerts

Because let’s be honest, no one wanted to be there

Turning the page in my book

Excited to show my friends my new iPod

Disgusted by the big plate of boring broccoli

Sitting in front of me at daycare

The Disney shows waiting for me after school

Just starting my lifelong sports

Turning the page in my book

Getting sent home from school and not

Knowing when we will go back

Trying new TikTok trends

Missing my family and friends

Praying for a good future

Turning the page in my book

Finally reuniting with my friends and family

Back to school with heavy restrictions

Returning to sports and finally finding myself again

Our world clicking the “reset button”

Turning the page in my book

Finally back to school

The world and everyone in it changed Starting to make important decisions that Will affect your life forever Seeing people you grew up with leave

Turning the page in my book

Getting your very first job

Heading off to college

Marrying your partner

Starting a family, and ready to move back

Making big purchases that will make your bank account cry

Closing the last page in my book

On my deathbed grateful for How everything went Replaying all of my memories in my head While I take my last breath

Karina Preteau, Grade 9

Roseau Secondary, Roseau

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

TheInterplayofLightandShadowonCeramic

One morning I woke up. Yeah, I woke up. It was maybe six am, before the rooster crows to wake the hens, I woke up.

I woke up and realized that I was the only one awake in the house, I was the only soul to form a thought, to exhale it from my lips like winter air’s frigid kiss, to breathe it back in through my nose.

Speaking of my nose, you see there’s a single aisle at the Whole Foods or maybe that café (down the way), or the grocery store, it smells like heaven does to me. It’s aisle number 3 and it’s stacked with riches from all over the world.

Notes of caramel mix with dark chocolate and apricot, lemon meets hazelnut in a good way, and I stay; for maybe a few minutes or maybe an hour, I just like to stop and see. Guatemala and Ethiopia, Brazil and Chile and maybe a-… okay lots of other countries and that magic place is one that all of us forget about, spooning Folgers into a foam cup or maybe hitting the Starbucks on the way to work for a double shot of espresso with oat milk foam and a little dusting of spice we don’t taste as gulping it down, we try not to spill.

But I think there is a specialness to the simple things in life. So I grabbed that bag of beans that I bought on Sunday and I said “oh hey.” Out loud, to my dad with our dog getting ready to take him for a walk, just down the block, but we live on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, he was going there though. I said “hey, you okay? Dad? Dad? Are you okay?”

I said “take Spot for a walk and I’ll be here when you get back with a surprise, please, look at my eyes. See how they

fire, a river, a window

sparkle too, see the blue, see the mistiness, just like you, see “. So he left, to take Spot down the road, even though it was cold, I saw him light up a smoke and that’s when I broke—

The silence of the morning with a buzz, a blade cutting through spoonfuls of that bag of beans and a kettle on the stove top filled with freezing cold water filtered from the tap, and I thought I heard a cat lap, and when I turned to see, Scratchy brushed his tail against my knee. I said, “hey buddy, wait a moment, I’m a little busy can’t you see?”, and I ground the beans and grabbed a pair of mugs from the shelf, as the kettle yelled at me, myself. I grabbed the mugs from the shelf and set them down carefully like when I was three and I broke a mug, slicing my knee. A filter appeared from a drawer, I realized I needed one more piece and I ran some warm water through the paper I slipped into it, and watched it dribble dribble dribble down the drain, I’m a lot more patient now, but a lot more sane. I gently tapped out the grounds and a little splash of water over the top to let it bloom. You see coffee beans and hearts are flowers too. And half a minute passed and at last I poured the water in a spiral over the beans and made my dad and me a cup of coffee. He went out a little more then three minutes ago, but “what’s that Yelp!?”

I realize it’s me, crying for help after burning my thumb, you see. That house wasn’t burned down in the twentieth century but I’m in a bed at a hospital right now and it’s just me. I couldn’t let that itch be, and now it’s just me. Sipping ****** tea from a foam cup as a nurse helps me up, and out of bed, to go learn how to walk again, and maybe there’s a story here. About getting back up and starting again, about losing so much that the grief and pain can’t stay in, about starting all over again. I made my dad that cup of coffee and then I told him; that it felt like the problem was me, like I needed to be

seen. I know he understood and he drove me up and this bed where I lie now is that last lie I tell, because this poem isn’t about me, it’s about losing you and what it did to me.

So I guess it’s about me. It’s about me. I couldn’t let it be, it’s about me.

Jae Blondo, Grade 12

Perpich Arts High School, Golden Valley

Teaching Artist: Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

a fire, a river, a window

Silence

If you don't know me right now

You may never know me

For my silence it’s too quiet

We tell others they don’t speak clearly, they mumble a lot

I may be one of silence

To some I sound clear and others in silence

For my silence is why you will never know me

Silence is a patient and powerful predator

Though you won’t know me

I may notice you

Silence is a moment of concentration,

Focus, and is very meaning full

One day I was minding my own business

At school, teacher kept asking questions

The thought raging and knowing all the answer chose not to speak because I enjoy silence

I may look silent on the outside

On the inside

Tons of thought raging at me like a angry lion

All at once

But in all those raging thoughts

I keep my silence

Cause its what I enjoy

Silence enters the room,

She commands the room to follow obediently and listen to all

She says

As she and I sit, staring into each other’s eyes, unsure of what to say

For my silence is too quiet

You may never know me

Mubarik Hassan, Grade 9

Patrick Henry High School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

a fire, a river, a window

Natalia sat at her kitchen table, looking at an empty piece of lined paper. It was supposed to be an essay on the life cycle of a spotted hyena. All Natalia could think about was the long period of detention waiting for her unless she did her essay. “Hey, Попрякушка” Alexi, her older brother popped in.

“Hey Alexi. Can you help me?” She asked.

“Sorry kiddo, I need to get to work. Besides, I only ever learned to speak English. Maybe you can get Anna or Antonia to help you?” He offered.

“None of us can read or write in English. Only speak it.” She reminded him. “Is мама working late again?” She asked.

“No idea.” Alexi replied. “But dinner is on you.

The next morning as class was settling in, Mrs. Smith, Nat’s teacher hushed the students,“All right everybody! Take a seat! As you may know, we are welcoming a new student, Dasha! She came all the way from Russia! Please be kind, and give her a warm welcome.” Dasha looked nervously around the classroom surveying all exit points. “Nat!” Mrs. Smith snapped.

“Oh sorry, what?” She asked. She heard laughing whispers around the class.

“I said, Dasha will be sitting next to you. In the last row.”

“Oh-uh…” she stuttered.

Someone whispered, “What’s the Russian spy doing here? We’ve already got Nat.” She whipped around. It was her classmate Sara.

Dasha smiled slightly. Nat held out her hand. Dasha flinched. She sat down embarrassed.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.” Nat said. Dasha raised her eyebrows in surprise to hear her own language.

“I’m… just on edge, moving to a new country and all.” Dasha said.

Without thinking, Nat blurted, “I can be your friend.” Instantly, she felt regretful. She thought, “Oh no, she’ll think I’m an idiot!”

“ Sure! Thank you, I’ve never been great with friends…” Dasha admitted.

“Nat! Please read page two.” Mrs Smith said.

“Two monkeys are sitting?” She tried. Sara and her clones, Jessie, Monica, and Brittany, were laughing like they just saw a clown cream-pie somebody. She threw her book as hard as she could, but missed. Dasha knew they were laughing at her and not with her. She stood up, and made a beeline for Sara. She grabbed her by her shirt and dragged her to her feet. This was the first time Nat had seen Sara look scared.

“Put her down!” Mrs. Smith shouted. Dasha looked Sara in the eyes and dropped her to the floor. An arm grabbed Dasha. It was the school counselor, Mr. Carson. Sara lay on the ground, a look of horror plastering her face. But as soon as Mr Carson left with Dasha, Sara was back to her sly, taunting grin.

“Nat! Out in the hall now.” Mrs. Smith shouted. As Nat walked out the door, Sara mouthed,

“Bye-bye Russian spy!” How had Mrs. Smith never noticed Sara’s constant bullying?

“Nat. I know that you are better than this. Throwing a book at her? I mean was that really the best solution? And getting Dasha into it too?” Mrs. Smith asked. Nat wondered what would happen if Sara’s fascist regime kept running. “All I want you to do is say sorry. Nothing else.” Mrs. Smith pleaded.

When Nat apologized to Sara, she looked at her in disgust.

“Mrs. Smith, I don’t forgive rats.” Sara sneered.

“Sara, principal’s office, now!” Mrs. Smith yelled. Sara scoffed in disbelief, as she pushed past Mrs. Smith.

“Do you know who my father is?! I will get you fired and kicked out of your house!” She yelled. Everyone laughed.

“I’m sure you will, Sara.” Nat retorted.

“When pigs fly!” Added Oliver. Everyone laughed as Sara stormed out into the hall.

Two years later, Nat and Dasha learned how to read and write, and Dasha learned to speak English. And as for Sara, well… she doesn’t get attention anymore. Even her clones cut all ties with her, and ignore her all together. Nat was elected class president, while Dasha was her campaign manager. Sara tried running, but got no votes. And life was better each, and every day.

Elena Galiullin, Grade 5

Meadowbrook Elementary, Golden Valley

Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

Dyslexia

I read and I read

Letters jump off the page

Passing from one ear to the other

The words don’t make sense

No matter how much I read and I read

The words that are on the page I don’t understand why the Letters jump off the page

No matter how I read It never makes sense

Passing from one ear to the other

Khloe Silvas, Grade 7

Le Sueur-Henderson Middle School, Le Sueur

Teaching Artist: Desdamona

DO YOU KNOW ME?

Do you know that those times my friends ask to go have a blast I only go because it could be our last before our childhood crash/ and we all gotta grow up and make cash / man it will happen so fast

DO YOU KNOW ME

Do you know behind those jokes and laughs I go home/ knowin’ my mom ain’t home tryna play that loan she got for dis home/ she tryna make sure her sons shower ain’t cold and I spoiled so that to me is more than gold

DO YOU KNOW ME

Do you know my whole life I’ve been tryna be my dad’s clone from skin to bone/ I wanna be all grown and own my home/ I wanna sit in a big throne but all i know is i'm still smaller than a garden gnome

DO YOU KNOW ME

Do you know one day I wanna be in the superbowl/ be the goat like J. Cole/ that's just 1 of my goals that i know my future holds/ but until then all that is in my control

DO YOU KNOW ME

Do you know that I have an amazing relationship with mother and father/ because they both raised me to be a baller/ and losing them would feel like getting choked by my collar/ and I love that even tho they my parents/ I’m still taller

Ruben Lomeli Meza, Grade 7

Community

Teaching

Of Peace Academy, Saint Paul

Artist: Frank Sentwali

NothingIsImpossible

I get my head in the game I practice my aim I am loved and I am enough I never give up

I’m strong, I am powerful I got this because nothing is impossible

Everyone makes mistakes we’re all human

Mr. Sell’s Class, Grade 5

Northview Elementary, Eagan

Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

Chorus

Affirmation Song

I can do hard things I can be a superstar I am great and I am strong

Oh yeah hear me roar

Verse 1

I am smart and I can make a big noise I can be a good friend sharing is caring I can help people feel better if they are crying When someone asks for help I help them

If someone calls me I can help right away Hugging people to make them feel better

When someone falls I can help them up When someone is hurt or sad, you can tell the teacher

Be kind

I am smart I’m going to win I can be a good friend

I can be anything I want to be I can be successful

Ms.Grier’s Class, Grade PreK

Lyndale Community School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

Legacy

I want to tell you about a person. But I don’t know who they were. I don’t know their name. I don’t know their gender. I don’t know anything about them. Because they never let their memory live on. They locked it up behind a door. They hid it behind a wide windowless wall. They never let their life live on Long after they were gone.

When I was a young boy I knew an amazingly marvelous man. He was a strong and a brave man. He came across an ocean to start a new life And he made sure his memory would live on.

Even though he is physically gone His memory lives on in me

Now I

Hold the responsibility Of carrying his life along Now that he is gone. And when I have children I well tell them of the great man I knew whose soul and story thrive even though he is no longer alive Their great grandfather Who was smart enough to decide Not to leave his life behind But allow it to survive

Your life your soul it does not die with you Unless you choose to hide it inside you Choose not to pass it on. Choose not to move it along

Nathaniel

De Sam Lazaro, Grade 8

Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

LookAround and Seewhat I see

Look around and see what

I see the violence in the world dating back

To before our generation began My black brothers

And sisters take each other by hand

Only to find a family member missing

Look around and see what I see, how this world is So corrupt but not everyone is tough enough

To speak up

Everywhere you turn you hear

School shootings, bombs booming people running as if

Demons are chasing them while they are

Praying and pleading for

Another chance

Another world

Another life

God knows this is not how we

Should treat one another

Not a lot of places are safe

It’s like there ain’t no escape

All you can see is the look of terror on people’s Faces

So look around and see what I see and stand tall

And strong match the rhythm to the beat of Your own song

No matter what your race is

Take a moment and smile at people’s faces

So I’m telling you again to Look around and see what I see

A young girl, black like me

Aerilyn Nketia, Grade 5

Gordon Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury

Teaching

Artist: Frank Sentwali

Sometimes I’m happy to be a girl Sometimes I eat those words up

I look at myself every day in the mirror Pulling and twisting at my skin

Hoping one day my stomach might be a little thinner Hoping one day my chest will get a little bigger Hoping one day I'll get a little prettier

Hoping one day I’ll get a little bit more perfect

Hoping

Hoping

Hoping

Ding/Ding/Ding

Time for school

Maybe I’ll wear this! No its showing my stomach Well..maybe I’ll wear this! Nope, showing my shoulders. Okay..maybe this? Nope/shorter than my arms length Insecurities overpowering me like a lion on a gazelle

I’m a Barbie in a box pretty and perfect waiting to be played with

Dress code

Dress code

Dress code

I walk alone covered up Wishing I would have just called an Uber

But what would happen to a pretty girl In a stranger’s car at night

My body shakes with fright Every time I see a light

Every time a car drives by I pray it doesn’t stop I pray I come home alright

No scratches or bruises

Because what would happen to a pretty girl walking home alone at night.

Praying Praying Praying

Being a girl in today's society shouldn’t mean being scared to be alone

It shouldn’t mean not being allowed to walk to your car without clutching to your keys Being a girl should mean having fun

Being a girl should mean loving yourself

Being a girl in today's society shouldn’t be as it is.

Ella Wood, Grade 8

Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

a fire, a river, a window

Beauty

Walk a mile in MY shoes. let’s talk cardigans EVERYONE sees me wear them

I LOVE CARDIGANS But why I love cardigans because they cover my arms!

The blouses the bumps and marks Cardigans! make my hips look good!

My skin goes down smooth and less like a mountain dip

I LOVE cardigans so i don't have to look down and see my stomach

I can look in the mirror too and see another layer of protection to hide my insecurities

I JUST LOVE CARDIGANS but WHAT is the REAL reason Because I can hide my body

Because I can HIDE MY body

That’s the thing me pulling it or buttoning it over my stomach is SUCH a habit drilled in my brain

THE SOCIETY IS MAKING GIRLS BELIEVE THEY’RE ONLY PRETTY

IF THEY’RE THIN AND SMALL

IF THEY WEAR MAKE UP AND DO THEIR HAIR

IF THEY SMELL LIKE SOME $28 PERFUME

IMAGINE … your little sister and cousins going to elementary school in crop tops every

Girls wake up to layer on Mascara eye liner eyeshadow lips highlighter blush concealer foundation

AND WE CALL THAT NORMAL ?

Girls have to have those shoes those leggings and those hair tools

And if you don't your confidence will suffer and whine

Because your not wearing the protection of trends

WE ALL JUST WANT TO FIT IN RIGHT

SO IF WE WANT THAT WE NEED TO START INCLUDING AND STOP EXCLUDING

You can't afford lululemon I cant be seen with you

You don't want to wear a crop top “come on it will make you pretty”

So if we include we won't have to worry about being excluded START TO SEE PEOPLE FOR WHO THEY ARE and not what they look like

Open your mind to get rid of this fake expectation

Because I’m done doing damage to my self for others

Walk a mile in my shoes

Olivia Sever, Grade 8

Lake Middle School, Woodbury

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

WhyIlikebeingEgyptian

Even though we may not look the Same as others and have Some unique features. Or our hair and Skin

Might not be the same but we Are still human.

We may eat other foods that people might think are Weird or gross We may have 0ther traditions or holidays that People don’t think are normal But to me I enjoy being Egyptian I, Enjoy having hair that has define twirls Or skin that is different from other people And I like being unique like a snowflake I like the food that I eat that are different From others

I enjoy all the traditions I have and do Our Christmas and Easter might not Be the same like everyone else’s

Or on the same day

But we Are still human.

I like being Egyptian because You have similarities and differences From everyone around you

We still celebrate most holidays like Christmas Thanksgiving Halloween and more We still eat other foods Then just cultural foods.

I like being Egyptian

Not just for being unique

But for

The environment I’m also surrounded by For all the Friends And family

Filled with contagious Laughter

So never

Judge someone for Embracing their culture

Just like embracing a warm hug by a loved one.

Chantelle Faltas, Grade 5

Gordon Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

UnspokenWords

You know, some kids like me

Never could talk

We never raised our hand in class

We never asked for help

Some kids like me

Couldn’t tell someone if something was wrong

We are sensitive to things that other people aren’t sensitive To We had to suffer in silence like no one else ever had to

And sometimes they still do

When I was three years old

I was able to talk and be free at home

But couldn’t in public places

Such as school

My voice was being blocked by an invisible barrier

A wall that was so tall

I could barely look over it

Some would think that I am just shy

But it’s much more than just being shy

Shy kids use their words

They use their voice

It’s quiet and only a few words at a time

But they can answer a question in class

That wasn't me

I. couldn’t. talk.

The words wouldn’t come out, they couldn’t come out

How much I wish I could have talked

How much I wish I could have even done as little as open my

Mouth

But no

Fear ran through me

I get the feeling of stage fright but ten times worse

Like a big spotlight shines down on me, exposing me

No words, no sounds

Not even a little gasp of air would come out

Everything I wanted to say was being blocked out

By an invisible barrier

I suffered in silence

Sometimes I still do

Feeling that pressure when people ask me

“Do you want the red one or the blue one?”

“I see you pointing, can you tell me?”

The stage fright comes

My heart pounding in my chest

The invisible barrier comes back

And again, nothing

All the annoying things people have said to me

“Why don’t you talk?”

“Oh! You’re just shy”

“Don't worry, she’ll talk when she's ready”

“She's just stubborn”

Because I was too scared to ask for help

All of the times when people were misjudging me

All of the times I have wanted to respond to people's questions

All of the times I just wanted to talk to someone besides my brother in school

I suffered in silence

Sometimes I still do

When I was three years old

I was diagnosed with Selective Mutism

An anxiety disorder

Where I am not able to talk in public places

Such as school

The treatment program I went to in New York

A place where they could help me find my voice

Doing things that would encourage me

The walks in Central Park

The dogs I pet

Asking the owners if I could

And then I finally felt like I was ready

My first word there was “Flamingo!”

That was the beginning of an life with less anxiety

Of a life where I didn’t have to suffer in silence anymore

I had a friend who helped me

They pushed me

They helped me come out of my shell

They helped dim that bright spotlight

They helped take down that invisible barrier

Brick by brick, stone by stone

Picking away until there was hardly anything left

And now they are one of the greatest friends I have

When I finally overcame it

You would think that I would feel let free

But not as much I feel like I should be

I still am affected by this

I don't like talking in front of big groups of people I still get that stage fright

But is no more spotlight

There is still a barrier

But instead of it being a tall wall

I could barely look over

It is now a small step

I hardly have to leap over

I still find it a little difficult to do these things

I still find it hard to ask for help

But it is getting better

I can barely keep myself together

When I am talking about something that doesn't even bother me that much

Or when it comes to standing up for myself

I can only talk when it is easy… to talk

Now I am using the things I have learned from it in my life

It has been so much better now that I can use my voice Instead of it being blocked by that barrier But now I am up here on this stage speaking the words I’ve wanted to say So. Long. Ago.

Liza Kaufmann, Grade 8

Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview

Teaching Artists: Desdamona, See More Perspective, Danny Solis, and Guante (Kyle Tran Myhre)

Section3: If A Whale Were Swimming Through My Skull

ShootingStar

There’s a light In the sky

Moving faster/Going down

Shooting Star/Out of space Now it’s gone All around

Shooting Star! Make a wish! Whatever you want to come true

Shooting Star! It’s just a rock In the atmosphere, that’s true

When you see it Make a wish

Keep it/To yourself

In your heart/In your mind Don’t tell Don’t tell

Plain white

And straight

Only seconds/Can you see Not hear/With your ear Just with You and me Stars

In the night

Not every one/Can take flight Stars /In the day Disappear They go away

Ms. Frier’s class, Grade 1

Weaver Lake Elementary, Maple Groove

Teaching Arist: Charlie Maguire

TheNightMakesMeThink

The night makes me think. My bed is as soft as the stars. The moon is a big chest for my dreams. While I sleep, the owls wake to find some food before they sleep again.

Owen Landers, Grade 2

Gleason Lake Elementary School, Plymouth

Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

I’m Bartholomew. This is the story of how I barely survived Witches’ Brew Haunted House.

I was walking home from school when my friend Lindsey said, “Guys! We should go to the haunted house across the street from Lucy’s.” My heart skipped a beat, but I didn’t wanna be a chicken so I went along with the idea.

I said, “Well, guys…What if we um…get in trouble?”

Lindsey and Jacob laughed hysterically. “Hahahaha! Lucy, me and Jacob are going and if you’re not, then we’re not friends anymore.”

I scoffed, “Ugh, finnnne.” We turned around and started walking toward the house. When we made it to the front door, we noticed the enchanted gate was locked. I let out a sigh. “Ugh, guys. Let’s go back. It’s locked anyway.”

Jacob responded with, “Chicken, of course we can just climb over it. Then I noticed Lindsey whisper something in Jacob’s ear, but me being me I ignored it. We started climbing and hopped over the fence. One look at that house alone would have given me a heart attack. We were now right in front of the house when I looked right and then left. Jacob and Lindsey were in the house already!

I screamed their names, but they just ignored me. So I just ran up to them and they said “Oh, Barth. I guess you aren’t a chicken anymore. Lindsey laughed right after she said that, and I smelled something that made my stomach weezy.

“Guys,” I said, “I really don’t feel well.” Then Lindsey and Jacob looked at each other and grabbed both my hands and shoved me through a door and blocked it so I couldn’t get out.

That’s when I heard a loud “Gratatada!” I slowly turned around but before I fully turned I noticed crying turned to laughing. It was Lucy. She said, “Barth, they left us here to die!”

“Of course not!” I said. “They were just scared.” That’s when I noticed it was not Lucy. I quickly got up and ran. Then I finally found the REAL Lucy. She stood up and before I could say something she quickly grabbed my arm and ran both of us through the house. I asked, “WHAT THE CHICKEN BROTH IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

She responded with, “Do you want to die before you get to watch a rated R movie?!” I said, “Well, no, but “ “BUT NOTHING!!” We ran upstairs and hid. Then I whispered, “Lucy, should we try calling someone?” She whispered back,” No use. This place is a mile up a long hill with no service.”

“Well, should we maybe escape?”

“No way! That thing out there is going to gobble us up.”

“What even is it?”

“The witch or a girl who believes she’s a witch who puts kids she captures in a cannon and blows them to the moon.”

That got my adrenalin up. I said, “Thanks a lot, Lucy!” We agreed to find a way to escape. The house was old, dark, and dusty. It had bats and was infested with bugs. We both came out of our hiding places and arranged to run out the front door and down the hill, but when we went down the stairs and tried the door click! Click! Pull! Pull! Tug Tug! “It’s locked!”

Lucy said. “There you go, Barth! Great plan!”

We arranged a late Plan B and decided to use an old rope we found in the closet upstairs. We tied it tight to the bed and threw the end out the window, then started climbing down.

a fire, a river, a window

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the witch singing and shooting kids in diapers out a cannon. I tried not to look as we ran across the yard to the gate. We helped each other climb over it. Just as I was about to swing my leg over the top, the witch ran toward us screaming “Chicken Wing!” and grabbed my foot! “LUCY! SHE’S GOT ME!” Lucy pushed the witch, who fell backwards. She tangled me into a ball and rolled me down the hill, than did it to herself, too.

Once we reached her house, we drank hot chocolate and told her mom who didn’t believe us, and we stayed away from Linsey and Jacob after that.

Lana Darst, Grade 4

Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury

Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

PlowingHeadache

Oh,

I wake up with a headache. It hurts, as if a whale were swimming through my skull. I get up and march with a trombone, pictured on my pajamas. When I reach my closet, I dive in.

I notice my swimsuit, with sharks flowing across it.

Below the swimsuit lies my fluffy, warm, winter hat. Snowflakes dance, sprinkle, through my mind. Memories of snowflakes punching my tongue, plow their way into my head. If dead plants could talk in the wintertime, they would talk about the invasion of the crystal water. The crystal water invades, but loves to talk to the dead plants, even though the dead plants hate them.

When spring comes,

a dandelion stem, Will squirt with juice, but taste like chalky dirt.

Elliott Hazzard, Grade 6

Saint Paul Academy, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: May Lee-Yang

WhatHappenedtoShrigan’sMind?

In a little village in India named Hirzapur in the year of 2001 there was a ten year old named Shrigan. He was about to go home from school when Arjun, a kid from sixth standard, said, “Go to the bazaar and get me the ten pack pani puri for me or else…..”

“Or else what?” asked Shrigan.

“Or else you owe me all your money,” said Arjun.

“Fine,” Shrigan replied, forgetting that he had his first piano lesson fifteen minutes after school.

“WELL THEN GET TO IT!" Arjun exclaimed angrily.

So Shrigan went to the bazaar and the hill he had to cross was very steep and he was sweating so much his forehead looked like a pool. When he got there he loved the smell… oh boy it smelled like heaven! There was a huge line... as long as about twenty-five buses lined up because everyone was getting all sorts of sweets for the festival of Diwali. There were kaju katlis, motichoor ladoos, and his favorite…rasmalai! But by the time Shrigan got his turn he didn’t have any paisa, meaning money in Hindi. So Shrigan had to go back up the hill and it was 39°Celsius! It was as hot as Venus! As he got up the hill he tripped and splashed in a puddle. He got so wet he was as wet as a wet sponge! But after he crossed the puddle a little creature came out of the puddle.

The creature said, “I have something to tell you. It’s very important.”

“What is it?” Shrigan asked.

“Hmm. I’ll only tell you if we have a karaoke battle…If you win I will tell you the very important information,” the little creature said.

“Fine. But what if I lose?” Shrigan asked curiously.

“It’s obvious. I won’t tell you the very… I mean very very important information,” said the creature very fast.

“Ok, it sounds simple. But do I get to choose the song?” asked Shrigan

“Umm… No,” said the creature.

“But but, Fine!” Shrigan exclaimed.

“Ok you are going to sing Mere Dil Ke Tum Ho Deewana… My absolute FAVORITE!” exclaimed the creature excitedly.

“I regret this! Ok I will now start,” Shrigan said. (he cleared his throat) “Tumare Dil Ke … Uh hu main deewana hu…Main tumse pyaar nahin karta…,” he sang.

The little creature clapped sarcastically. “Wow! Let’s show you how it’s done… Mere dil ke tum ho deewana. Main tumse pyaar bahut karta. Abh main bhi tumse pyaar karta,” the creature sang. “You lost. Well now I guess I won’t tell you the information,” the creature told him.

Later, before Shrigan went into his home he made a plan. “Hmm I will sneak into the house and make sure mom won’t see me and secretly grab my money and then I will sneak back and run back to the bazaar,” he said to himself. So he snuck in the house and grabbed his money but on the way out his mom spotted him!

“SHRIGAN KUMAR SINGH WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN YOU ARE VERY LATE FOR YOUR PIANO LESSON! YOUR TEACHER IS PROBABLY WAITING FOR YOU BUT YOUR LESSON IS OVER! JUST WATCH I AM LETTING YOU GO NOW BUT IF YOU DO THIS AGAIN YOU WILL BE IN BIG TROUBLE MISTER! I AM LOCKING YOU IN YOUR ROOM UNTIL WE LEAVE FOR GURUGRAM!” his mom exclaimed angrily.

“But but,” Shrigan said.

“NO IFS AND BUTS! NOW GET IN YOUR ROOM!” his mom yelled very angrily.

“Fine,” he said. So Shrigan went into his room and he made up plan B and decided to sneak out the window.

So he snuck out the window and started for the bazaar. When he got to his favorite tree, a thunderstorm started so he took shelter under the tree and as soon as he found the perfect spot, Arjun splashed a big bucket of water that was colored green.

“Now I’m all green!” Shrigan exclaimed.

“Hahahaha. I colored the water green because my pani puri isn’t here yet! Where are they?” Arjun asked.

“I FORGOT MY MONEY AND NOW IT’S ALL WET!” Shrigan exclaimed angrily.

“Well now you HAVE to give me your new toy car,” Arjun demanded.

Later lightning struck a village nearby so Shrigan went to shelter and once the storm passed he got out of the shelter. But as soon as he got out, his friend saw him. Shrigan’s friend asked, “ Do you want to go play on the brand new playground?”

“No,” Shrigan replied.

“Alright then,” his friend replied. After that Shrigan saw Arjun again. Arjun was thinking of playing another prank on him, so he did.

“I’m going to push Shrigan in the pond," Arjun said to himself. “BOO!” Arjun yelled. Then he pushed him in the pond.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT!” Shrigan screamed. “Now I’m as wet as your slimy heart which is as mean as a demon!” Shrigan snarled.

“Hahahahaha!” laughed Arjun. When Arjun went away, Shrigan thought of going home again but then quickly changed his mind because his mom would be as mad as the worst principal ever! Then Shrigan felt his pockets and found one hundred-seventy rupees.

“This is a miracle!” exclaimed Shrigan. So he went to the bazaar and bought the ten pack pani puri, but didn’t give it to Arjun. Instead he just ate it on his own.

“Mmm so good…. Delicious!” exclaimed Shrigan. “But I think I should go home now, I just realized I made a bad decision by going into public after school,” said Shrigan ashamed.

Meanwhile Arjun thought, I shouldn’t have troubled Shrigan that much. I hope he’s okay, I think I should apologize to Shrigan. So Arjun started to go see Shrigan and they saw each other at the tree where Arjun had played a prank on Shrigan. The poor tree was so wet, it was dripping like a plane at five hundred miles per hour.

“I'm sorry about playing pranks on you, I shouldn't have done that,” Arjun apologized.

“It’s okay, just don’t do it again,”Shigan said.

“Okay,” Arjun replied.

After that Shrigan started to go home and when he got there he said, “Mama, I’m sorry for going into public after school and missing my piano lesson.”

“It’s okay,” said Shrigan’s mom. “As long as you do not do it again.”

“Okay,” said Shrigan. And after that everyone in Hirzapur lived happily ever.

The End

Vansh Sharma, Grade 4

Roseau Elementary, Roseau

Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

a fire, a river, a window

AnOdetotheTropicals

I love the swishing and swaying

Of the vast ocean blue

Sustaining life

In portions much greater than I

The sand that surrounds my feet

With warmth and comfort

The bright colors of the sun

Beaming and gleaming

Off the smiling faces

The small shops in the small town

Filled with memories and fun

Helping to cool down

In the gleaming sun

The natural fruits, so sweet

Unlike anything you have tasted before

The brightness of flowers

And trees and water

All forming a perfect array of colors

The wildlife

So alive and plentiful

Birds chirping

Colorful butterflies

Corals, sustaining needs for the ocean

For the fish

The natural happiness

The natural love

This is why I love the tropicals

Natalee Hendrickson, Grade 8

Red Lake Central County School, Oklee

Teaching Artist: Desdamona

Enteringa WorldofNature

Diving into the wild, enormous deep covered in stars

Purple ghosts move like nightlight waves

A beast lurks, in search of me

This huge pride of the forest stomps everything in its way

A dragon’s fire breath hovers on the wind like lava melting underground

Heat rises up as a volcano erupts, glowing in the dark like a lava lamp

Little crawlers on boulders push through the dark lands to joyful sunlight

Wind blows like waves of flower gardens

Peaceful worlds filled with happiness we can travel in just a few hours

Dayton’s Bluff Achievement Plus Class, Grade 3/4

Dayton’s Bluff Elementary Summer Session, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

Musicand Me!

In my music mind I’ll see music notes falling from the sky. See a piano playing itself see a bird in a tree singing the lullaby hearing tunes that are familiar dancing and singing all night.

Oh my my my I would love to see an otter sing but is that a dog singing IS THAT A CAT SINGING!?!?!? What a magical night But if it’s night then why is it bright but never mind that a cat and dog is singing.

A cat a dog a fish an army of fish singing the dogs name was kinging the cats is named linging the fish is named finging and we are all singing.

My music mind has pop and sometimes rock! You can listen to the music on YouTube, Spotify, and even on the radio! In my music mind Conan gray, d4vid,‘‘em behold Olivia rodrigo and others are some of my favorite artists I hope I have music in my mind all the time.

Fuji Thao, Grade 5

Saint. Anthony Park Elementary, Saint Paul Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

TheHiddenLake

“Be back by dinner,” yelled Mom as I slammed the door shut with a crash. I’m Drew and I’m already sick of this house.

Our family has been having money problems for the last year or so, forcing us to move into an old neighborhood with creepy old houses and even creepier neighbors. Our house is just as bad as the rest with a door just barely holding on and the paint peeling right off the house.

Even though this stuff is all bad, the thing that I am most missing from my old house is the amazing hunting and fishing. Every deer season I would go hunting with my grandma and grandpa and go fishing on the amazing walleye lakes by our house up north. On our long drive to our new house, I researched deer hunting in this area, only to be even more disappointed than I already was. The biggest deer taken from this area was an eight-pointer small enough for one adult to carry, and as far as I know I doubt there is a single fish here. Right now, I’ve decided to get some more information from the locals.

I walked down the street to a café that supposedly everyone goes to for coffee or a meal and the latest news. When I walked in, I was greeted with a welcome and my name! I guess news travels as fast as wildfires around here. As I scanned the café, I noticed some old man in a corner by himself sipping a coffee while doing a crossword puzzle. “Does anyone here know something about the hunting and fiching in this area?” I asked, hoping to get lucky.

“Y’all come to the wrong place, son,” said some guy wearing ripped overalls and a ratty old baseball cap. “There ain’t a fish or deer anywhere near this town.”

When I’d asked the question, though, I noticed the old guy in the corner suddenly look up from his crossword puzzle, then he looked back down and scribbled something on the paper. Strange, I thought.

Even though I was disappointed by the information I got, I stayed a little longer to sip a pop and talk some more with the locals. As I got up to leave, the old man in the corner bumped into me in a hurry. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Watch where you’re going, I thought, but when I walked out the door and started down the street I felt someone following me. I turned around to see a young man in a suit walking about twenty yards behind me. “Weird. Nobody wears clothes that nice around here,” I whispered as I started to pick up the pace. But as soon as I started going faster, he did, too. I took a couple of turns to see if he followed and he did! What is this guy’s problem, I thought, breaking into a full sprint. Finally, I got home and slammed the door behind me.

I looked out to the window to see the guy pull out an iphone and type something. Later that night after dinner as I changed into my pajamas I saw something sticking out of my pants pocket. I pulled it out and it was a folded newspaper. It was part of a crossword puzzle and said, “Meet me behind the café at 12:00 PM sharp. I have answers. DON’T BE FOLLOWED!”

“The old man in the corner wrote this,” I said to myself, remembering him doing the crossword puzzle. He must have slipped it into my pocket when he bumped into me. I had no idea what “I have answers” meant, but all I knew was I was sneaking out at midnight!

At 11:50PM, I made my way down the creaking stairway to the door and hid in the shadows while I made my way up the

street to the café. I went around the back to make sure the old man in the corner was waiting for me.

“Did anyone follow you?” he said when I saw him.

“No,” I replied, wondering what was so secretive.

“What I am about to tell you cannot be told to anyone else, understand?”

I nodded my head, eager to hear what it was.

“Now, ‘I have answers’ means exactly what it sounds like. I have answers to the question you asked in the café. My family was having the same problems as yours, so we moved to a town near here. I was into trapping at the time because there was a huge jump in the fur business. The pelts sold for much more money than usual. One time I heard a rumor of an incredible lake in the middle of a forest near here that had so many fish that you would get a bite immediately, and the woods around it were full of wildlife. I thought that if I could find this place, then I could earn a lot more money trapping.”

The whole time he was telling the story, I sat there eager to learn more about this hidden lake.

“Now, I know you are more interested in deer hunting than trapping, but from what I heard those woods are loaded with deer, too. Now, back to my story.

I began doing research and found that the lake was hidden by a tribe long ago and hasn’t been found since. Well, at that moment, I was determined to make that change. I spent all my time searching for that lake, and to this day the only clue I have is a pictograph of a hunter painted on a rock under a big oak tree on the eastern side of Benten Woods. If you go looking, that’s where you should look first.”

Excited with the information, I thanked him and turned to leave, when he spoke again.

“One more thing. That young man from the café is a fisherman and hunts with only one thing in his mind. Money. If he finds that lake, he will wipe out the population and sell the animals, meat, hides, and pelts.

That’s why he was following me, I thought. He wanted to know if I had gotten any information on the hidden lake. He probably typed our address on his iPhone.

As I made my way home, my head buzzed with excitement as I thought about the lake and how I would find it. As I opened our front door I was so surprised I might have been looking at the President! Instead, I was looking at my mom, and she didn’t look happy!

“Drew Johnson,” she said with her voice raised.

Uh oh, not a good sign when I get called my last name.

“What were you doing sneaking out at midnight? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to do some exploring.”

“At 12 o’clock at night?” she shot back.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I said.

“You’re grounded for three weeks. That means no electronics and no leaving the house without me. Understand?!”

“Yes, mom.” I said, feeling horrible that I had lied to her.

“Go upstairs and don’t ever do that again,” she said to end the conversation.

As I got into bed, I couldn’t believe what had happened. In three weeks the deer season would be almost over. Right when my grounding is over I need to find that lake quick!

Those three weeks were the worst weeks of my entire life. When my grounding was over, I ate breakfast and yelled upstairs to mom and dad, “I’m going to look around outside for a while!” Then I hurried outside and headed for Benten Woods. I pulled out my compass and waited for the red arrow settled on East, and I was on my way. After about fifteen minutes, I found the big oak tree the old man was talking about. Right when I saw it my heart started pounding so much that it felt like I was going to jump right up out of my chest. I quickly ran over to it and dropped to the ground in front of the rock. After a quick scan I saw the pictograph of the hunter pulling back a bow and arrow! The second I saw it I just knew it had something to do with the lake.

I sat up against the trunk of the tree to think for a while about what this clue might mean. But with the warmth, sunshine, and fresh air, I couldn’t help but start to doze off. I awoke suddenly and felt terrible. How could I fall asleep! I thought, realizing how much time I had wasted. My stomach growled and I looked at my watch, which said 1:30PM. “And now I have to go back to the house and eat,” I said to myself.

On the walk home, I remembered that if I didn’t find the lake today or tomorrow, I wouldn’t have any time to hunt before the season was over. Then, when I walked in the door, my mom said, “Good, you’re here. Your food is getting cold.” I scarfed down my macaroni and shot to the door, but my dad said, “Hold your horses, Drew. You still haven’t done your chores. That means washing the dishes, washing the laundry, and cleaning your room, too.”

When I was finally done with my chores, it was lights out in our family and I had to go to bed. As I lay awake deep in thought, I had a brilliant idea. The pictograph of the hunter with the bow and arrow was pointing in the direction of the lake! I fell asleep feeling great about my idea.

When I woke up in the morning, I went right back to the big oak tree. Then I looked at the rock one more time and headed in the direction the arrow was pointing. I trekked through the woods when suddenly the trees got so thick I could only see three feet in front of me. Right when I thought I would never find it, the trees thinned out and sixty feet away sat a glistening lake as clear as crystals.

I ran up to it and was so happy I could cry! I spent the next couple of days hunting there and it was the best hunting I had ever seen! And it was all thanks to the man doing the crossword puzzle sitting in the corner of the café!

30 Years Later

Since I can’t hunt anymore because of an injured leg, I spend most of the hunting season in the hunting room looking at all the antlers from my many, many years hunting at the hidden lake in Benten Woods. In the time I don’t spend in the hunting room, I hang out with my new best friend, Charles, also known as the old man in the corner!

Joshua Lutz, Grade 4

Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury Teaching Arist: Stephen Peters

EricCarle

His crocodiles are red

His horses are blue

His lions are green

There are polka-dots too

He is a “picture writer”

He’ll make you smile

His name is Eric—Eric Carle

Eric(Showthebrush)EricCarle

Eric(Showthebrush)EricCarle

Eric(Showthebrush)EricCarle

Eric(Showthebrush)EricCarle

His rabbits are pink

There’s a purple fox

A black polar bear

Walking on rocks

He’s a “picture writer”

He’ll make you smile

His name is Eric Eric Carle

He takes carpet

Like you walk on the floor

Dips it in paint and there’s more He dribbles and splatters

On tissue paper

Every book can become your favorite

Mr.Terrones’ Class, Kindergarten

Saint Anthony Park Elementary, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

WhenYou’reCamping…

When you're camping at night, you hear wildlife scurrying through the foliage, you smell the smoke from a campfire and feel the breeze.

You hear trees soughing and swaying as raccoons wait, perfectly poised to steal forgotten food the moment you leave.

I find the sounds of forests, even when they’re encompassed by the peculiarly tranquil yet menacing darkness, to be a beautiful melody.

And although you know that you are far from harm, an innominate sense of trepidation towers over you.

Fear stalks but never pounces, as it is overpowered by the tiger responsible for the roar of daybreak.

In the daytime you climb mountains, every struggling step rewarded by pride when you reach the crown of that vigorous height.

You frolic at the beach, the waves crash down carelessly interrupting the flow of a small moat you created surrounding a delicate sand castle.

Or perhaps you find yourself hidden behind a large oak, wary to hear your friend's voice cry, “found you!”

Maybe you're at a festival, setting up a few hammocks in between a pair of perfectly positioned trees.

Or, you are giggling with glee as you begin to pedal faster on your bicycle after you feel the first, cold, refreshing raindrop land on your nose.

The thrill of knowing that if you don't make it back to your campsite in time, you'll be drenched by the upcoming downpour.

When you're camping during the day.

Lola Tepley, Grade 5

Hillcrest Community School, Bloomington Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

TheGirland theCreature

One day Amy came home from school. She lived in a cabin with her grandfather. She set her backpack down and headed towards the living room. Then she glanced at a stool with a note on it.

“Huh?” Amy thought. She picked it up and started reading out loud.

The note said, “You are chosen to find a mysterious creature high in the mountains. In reward you and your family will get a big amount of money.”

Amy was shocked. She started to panic. Just then her grandfather walked in and greeted Amy. ”Hello!” Amy said.

“Hello, dear. What’s that note you have?” her grandfather said. He took the note. He started reading, then sighed and said, “Amy, go if that is what you want, but it will take days, my dear.”

Amy bowed, then hurried to her room and packed and set off. She started walking to the higher mountains. Soon she was running across the bumpy roads and then she finally decided to rest near a gigantic bush. When she was done with her break, she stood up and looked over the bush and saw the biggest creature in her life. It had nine tails. Amy almost screamed but stopped. She didn’t want to attract attention.

Then the creature turned around and jumped at Amy. She screamed. The creature was breathing rapidly. Soon it stopped and got off Amy. She sat up. The creature held up a paw that was sprained and disjointed.

“Hmm… Guess I’ll take you home,” said Amy.

Amy took the creature home and fed it and bandaged the paw. Months passed by and soon the creature got better. Then Amy had to put it back in its habitat. Amy put the creature behind the bush where they had met and left. A tear dropped from her face. Just then the creature hugged her and left.

Amy remembered that day forever. Though she tried to find it every day, there was no sight of the creature.

Anisa Waquong, Grade 3

Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury

Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

I Wanna SleepForever

Everybody hates waking up. It’s shameful, scary, I’m ashamed. I’m sorry I can’t sleep forever. And sure, it won’t get better.

But in an eternal sleep, you won't laugh or weep or look anybody in the eyes, because it is quiet.

So I’ll be quiet and sorry and blink through the week to leave this hell where the strong hurts the weak but that is life.

For even the smartest here act like animals. We prove our worth by behaving like animals.

We. Are. Animals.

But we may not sleep like animals. We wish we could. But we may not lie down in our beds and let rest take us without a struggle.

People are born crying, we want to go back to sleep. To rest our eyes, to let the day slip away and by.

And I wake up and know that you want me to sleep.

Forever.

I’d like you to sleep after the screaming and laughing and crashing and pointing. It made me so tired.

We wish sleep upon each other. Eternal and uninterrupted. Whether the soil is my blanket or I blanket the soil.

I’d like to sleep forever. But I only smile when I’m awake.

Mamie Tiyawat, Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

TheBoyWhoWenttotheFuture

One day ten-year-old Jeremy was walking home from school. Suddenly he heard a big crash. He looked at the sky and there was a big storm coming. The sky was purple, though, and it wasn’t raining. Jeremy was thinking, “Why is the sky purple?” It was supposed to be grey or black. He noticed a big, black hole just waiting to suck him up! He got curious and wondered what would happen if he went into it, so he stepped into it and went forward 10,000 years into the future.

He was amazed at how stuff in the future looked.

He asked a man there where he could get food and the man said, “Just tap on the button above your head,” so Jeremy did and there was a menu that appeared above his head that had every food in the world on it. He picked a bowl of spaghetti. It showed up in his hand and he ate it. “Where can I get a house?” he asked the man, who said, “Just tap on the house button above your head.”

Jeremy tapped the house button and a menu with every house in the world appeared above his head. He picked a modern house and it showed up in the nearest field to him. He ran over to the new house and went inside. “What a nice house!” he said. He sat on the couch and watched TV with a HUGE bowl of ice cream on his lap.

The next day he felt really sick because he ate way too much ice cream. He felt lazy the whole day and did absolutely nothing. But the day after that he wanted to go back to his real house after he felt better. He asked someone, “Is there another time machine anywhere around here?”

There was. He went to it and it took him back 10,000 years. He thought it would take him to the same spot he’d left from where he lived in Texas, but it took him to Montana instead. He thought to himself, “How am I supposed to get back home?”

He started finding and selling random rocks for money, and he got quite a bit of money that way. When he had enough money for a plane ticket to Texas, he took the first plane home, but had to walk from the airport.

Draydon Mueller, Grade 4

Hilltop Elementary School, Henderson

Teaching Artist, Stephen Peters

Music to Me

My joy is in music

The way my ears

Can be mercilessly screaming while I turn up my airpods

Another *click* of volume

Of happiness

Nothing is stopping me from doing this

Only the tips of my fingers can deceive me by accidentally

Clicking it down

I quickly move my fingers out of habit back to the upper Button

To click it twice to make up for my mistake

I remember the first time I turned up the volume to the Maximum

When everything changed

When I changed

Nobody around me noticed

Anything which only made it better, like an internal victory

I kept the volume at that level for as long as I could because I felt powerful

The louder my music blared, the more powerful it felt the More powerful I felt

Until I turned my music down

Until I turned it off

I was back to the raging reality

Back to the old boring uneventful life

Where I have no power, where I feel like nothing

But an atom in the world

However I still go on with my day

Soaking in what I can of it like a sponge in the Sahara

I'm not sad, I’m ambivalent

In the middle

But I can change that with the *click* of a button

Of music

Because I find joy in music

Elinor Harvey , Grade 8

Lake Middle School, Woodbury

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

TheMessage Chapter 1

Carl Goosebull stood at the foot of Whitbury Manor in Swissville, Ohio. He was ready to cat sit for an anonymous person. But poor Carl was cut short by a bad thunder storm. Suddenly he vanished, gone in thin air…

Brian Goosebull was walking home from school almost 40 years from the night Brian’s great grandpa disappeared. That night…Suddenly Brian heard a loud BANG! And before he knew it he was being pulled! Brian let out a shrill scream, then burst out laughing.

He knew it was just his best friend Phil Cooper dressed in a high tech invisible suit. Phil’s dad is a scientist. He designs cool tech. They walk home the rest of the way. When Brian opened his door, he let out a loud gasp. A note in red paint appeared on Brian’s wall. It read: “Stay away. Never go near Mount Whitbury or suffer the consequences!”

“Very funny, Phil,” said Brian.

“It wasn’t me,” Phil shouted.

“Was, too!” Brian replied nastily. “Mount Whitbury is where my great grandpa disappeared 40 years ago!” Brian realized shrilly.

“Let’s go! It’s not far,” said Phil.

“Are you crazy!?” Brian blurted out.

“Yeah,” Phil replied, a smile on his face.

“I can’t stand you, but I’ll go, Brian said.

“Let’s pack,” answered Phil quickly.

They began to pack. They packed bug spray, grappling hooks, shovels, flashlights, food and water, all in bags. Ten minutes later they finished. They went toward the door…then stopped. “Wait, the guy said not to go,” Brian remarked.

“Don’t be a wimp,” Phil replied nastily.

“Fine,” Brian sighed. They left the house and began their journey. Around thirty minutes later, they drew near Whitbury Manor. A heavy wind had picked up. The boys walked up a stone path…and finally they arrived. A thought entered Brian’s mind. “What if the guy is, like…Evil? Just a thought.”

Suddenly a voice boomed, “Welcome, Welcome. I am Count Orlok!”

Phil and Brian stood frozen.

“Don’t be scared. Come closer,” the count replied. He was very thin, pale and tall. He wore a brown tux, black shoes, and a cape.

“Okay,” Brian sighed.

“I will grant any wish,” Count Orlok said reluctantly.

It was almost nightfall. Brian realized they needed a way home. “I want a vehicle for transportation,” he said.

“Okay,” Count Orlok replied. “I will give you a magic carpet, but be warned. Once you start flying, when you stop…” He paused. “The carpet will turn to dust.”

“What?” Phil choked out.

Count Orlok didn’t reply. Suddenly, a floating carpet appeared out of thin air. “Go on,” Orlok motioned with his hands.

“What?” Brian shouted. “What happened to Carl Goosebull?”

Count Orlok looked surprised. “Who?” he said.

“Never mind,” Brian told him. He and Phil got on the carpet and took off. “Thanks,” they both yelled.

When Brian got home, Phil jumped off the carpet with a thud. Brian opened the door and gasped! The message was gone!

Brian let out a choked gasp. There stood Carl Goosebull in the flesh. He was Count Orlok!

THE END

Jaxon Lovato, Grade 3

Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

GamingSystem

Running away from the world of gray

A click of blue cold as fast as a train

Wakes me up to a new vivid reality

That stops suddenly at a red light

I am thrown back into the darkened universe

My face becomes red, bloated, and shaky

The red glow slowly turns green and My face lights up like a lightbulb

Ding! Letzzzzz go!

Mrs. Yang & Mrs. Schramm’ Class, Grade 4

Valentine Hills Elementary, Arden Hills

Teaching Artist: SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

SausageTemptations

“... And then I barked again and she said ‘Oh, lousy dog!’ and leaves,” I say to Lila as the bus goes over a bump. “She’s not my favorite.”

We’re on the doggy bus on the way home from No Nips Obedience School. I’m very excited to see Indie (my owner) when I get home.

“Hey, wanna go to the sausage shop?” asks Lila. (Her owners run Bones’ Butcher Shop.)

“Sorry, I can’t go today. Indie wants me straight home,” I say forlornly, thinking of the sausage.

Lila gives me puppy eyes (no pun intended). “But they’re making venison summer sausage today!” she whines. I consider.

“Okay, fine,” I woof, knowing Indie will be mad.

The bus pulls to a stop.

“Summer sausage, yay!” Lila barks.

When we get there, Lila’s parents, Kate and John, are just wrapping up the summer sausage. Kate chops it up, quick as lightning, then tosses some to us. She pops some into her mouth, as well as John’s, and they both giggle like little girls.

“Wanna go for a walk?” she asks us, her mouth full of sausage. “Yes!” we howl, standing on our hind legs like bears.

Two wonderful things in a row! Wow! I thought. Kate clips on our leashes, (she keeps an extra one for me,) then opens the door. We strut out like movie stars. Well, technically, Lila struts and I stay, waiting for John to toss me more meat.

“Tate, let’s go!” yells Kate.

As we walk along, I think how Indie must be missing me. We’ll just end this walk quick.

When we get back, me and Lila roll in the grass. “Silly Labs!” Kate exclaims. We chase squirrels for a while, and when Kate gets a call, we don’t stop because we’re so absorbed in stalking up to a rabbit. We’re both startled when she exclaims, “Oh goodness! Sorry he wasn’t home right away.” The other person says something, then hangs up.

I look towards the sky, and realize the sun is setting. “Do you think that was Indie?” Lila asks. “Mm, probably,” I say nonchalantly.

About 10 minutes later, a car pulls up. Indie steps out! I race up to her. “Tate!” she exclaims. “I guess we’re just gonna leave you here, ‘cause you like it so much?” she asks, winking at Kate.

I whimper up at her, confused. She gets in the car and it starts backing up. I whine. The car stops backing up.

Indie sighs as she gets out. “I’m guessing you want to go home?”

I leap into the car before it has a chance to drive away again.

When we get home, Indie talks to her mom. “He knew he wasn’t supposed to go, and I told the bus driver not to let him out at Kate’s.” She brushes her teeth, then takes me to bed. “Never run away again, little monkey,” she says.

I manage a little nod before I drift off to sleep, sweet as candy after all that running.

The End.

Avril Huener, Grade 4

Roseau Elementary, Roseau

Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

BrightColors

The stunning elephant in the room that caught my eye

The flowers charmed me with their richness, submerging me

My clothing soaked

Suddenly my skin and soul is drenched in vividness

I sweat orange

reek of lime

I bleed aquamarine

The darkest parts of my head still ooze pink

My head is dripping of swirling sunset

The blazing objects will always be treasured

My eye prone to the screaming jewel in the room

Emma Hendrickson, Grade 9

Red Lake County Central School, Oklee

Teaching Artist: SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

TheColor Yellow

is the color of sunlight, Mother Earth’s alarm in the morning it seems to creep through the cracks in your curtains and fill your room with light.

The color yellow is the color of happiness, like when your soccer team scores the winning goal and you’re lifted atop everyone's shoulders, you feel as high as the sky. Or like when you finally complete the play that you have been practicing for for months.

You run onstage bathed in the light of the stage holding the hands of your smiling peers you lift your arms up, applause circulating around the room filling you with happiness.

The color yellow is the color of post-its. Your thoughts and ideas pouring out. Filling this tiny piece of paper with possibilities. The kind of possibilities that could change the world.

The color yellow is the color of dandelions their gentle heads waving with the breeze memories of running barefoot through the soft blanket of green grass. Laughter fills the air, and the cool air fills your lungs as you race through the wild greenery.

The color yellow is the color of the soft sunset ending your day

but reminding you of the day to come its soft colors as you sit on the darkening beach running your hands through the thin, wet sand as it slowly drips through your fingers.

The color yellow is the color of a flashlight beam lighting the way through a dark night providing shelter and safety to those who need it.

Keira Coughlin, Grade 6 Saint Paul Academy, Saint Paul Teaching Artist: May Lee-Yang

Granny

So clever

So close

That eyebrow

You raised

When you said something That tricked Every

Adult

In the room

Making them think too hard

You were the one Who showed Me the way

With wits And cleverness

When the leaves fell I looked

Up to the sky And saw you

Smiling

Next to the sun

You raised a brow and said, “Go on . . .”

Doralice Brenneman, Grade 5

Saint Paul Academy Lower School, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

MyGeneration

Please excuse me for the words I am about to say but

My Generation can make a change

Right?

A change from a world where suicide is the daily

And hatred is the #1 belief

A world where

A person can be saying goodbye

For the last time not knowing when they’ll die

Ending up on the side

With a bullet through their thigh

A world where a person can take a life

Just because the colors of someone's eyes

Spouting such lies

All about how they were scared for their lives

Right after taking someone's life

This is a world where people’s riches are

Praised

And their poverty

Shamed

A world where

Someone’s praying all day

Just to catch a break

While a person down the lane is being raped

And another is on stage

Being abased

Now shouldn't we be ashamed that

This is a world

Where people go on about saving others

But do nothing to help their brothers

Each is quick to stab another

In the back

Our generation was taught like that

In this world you pay to live

And sacrifice to pay the price

A world where you are judged on

Age, sex or race

Making people shove their face

In toxic waste

Nothing matters if you don’t fit into the “standards”

In this world you can't survive

Unless you pass their vibes

This world is a world

Where you either Lose or Lose

In this world chrysanthemums are placed And memories erased

A world where they promise you're Safe

But you know that's not the case

Now there are many more Issues I could list

But I'm sure you already get the gist It really is quite strange I mean in this day and age

Will my generation be the change?

Maria del Carmen Giron, Grade 7

Community Of Peace Academy, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Frank Aentwali

WILL YOU LISTEN?

Will you listen? When my anger is full of heat and bursts out like a volcano—will you listen?

When she gets over my head, separates me from every guy that's only a friend, thinking the trauma will happen all over again will you listen?

Like a person in poverty, you don’t just help them, you ask them what they need, so will you listen?

When my enemies gang up on me like a pack of wolves, will you take the time to listen?

Whether crying tears like a waterfall or smile when every wish comes true and takes me further into the realms of bliss, then, will you listen?

Don't ever say that I talk too much when you never heard the real me.

You've always thought you knew me, when everything I wanted to say has been drowned in the depths of the sea. There is not a puzzle piece that you can find to fit into my heart; instead you make your own piece it doesn't even create the right picture. So now can you listen?

I’m your first born, but we’ve pretended to be strangers; you pretended to be a know-it-all. But you don't know me that well at all; that being said, will you listen?

You used the bible to see my problems from a different lens and threw the real deal into a box. Just this time, can you listen?

In times when I need help from the person who says they love me, don't try to help me when you know you’ll drown the both of us in a pool of pride like you did before; so let's not say too much unless we are both ready to listen. So I’ll just give it to God. Therefore God, will you listen?

Jaz’Miah Elliott, Grade 9

Insight School of Minnesota, Brooklyn Center

Teaching Artist: Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

faces blur with the connections in my mind stop, yield, go, have no hope surrounded, suffocating sounds, why are you acting proud unfamiliar feelings, unfamiliar smiles act together. why are you overreacting please stop, this needs to stop Voices, sounds, I’m still smothered by crowds sticky words with meaningless substance. disconnect your words, vessels for bombs this isn’t about bombs, why are you thinking about bombs your acting so dumb, why so stupid, you know better act together. black holes, hold the unknown why are you curious, stop acting so stupid you know better, this is all your fault voices sound like the A.M. I want to be the 2.0 not the sequel stop acting like we’re equal n e e d more, know more I’m acting so fake why can't I be safe act together.

JW, Grade 10

Tri-County Schools, Karlstad

Teaching Artist, SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

Closed intheDarkness

Closed in the darkness, Why does the world have to be so heartless?

Trapped in the shadows of the day ahead, But I stay here trapped under the bed,

For I am a sock beneath the bed: Neglected, forgotten, left for dead,

Once cherished, now discarded, My fate, it seems, forever guarded.

The world outside is harsh like a storm, Exclaiming BOOM!- CRASH!- POW! Kicking happiness out the door,

With my soul strained -- I’m pushed away into the shadows, I was once bright and new but now: My fibers, once soft Now ragged, worn, and askew

My colors, once bright and bold -Now faded, dull, a story told.

And then…. -- BOOM!

The shadows jump and scream as the light shines its giant beam,

The room is exposed I start to implode… All my emotions rush me with full force, as the anticipation of being found strikes its course,

But alas the feeling is passed the brightness retreats, Back to a place where we will hopefully meet.

For I witness it all,

The secrets kept, The tales that sprawl The dust bunnies, The lost trinkets, The crumbs, The spills, And all the messy bits.

Because I am the metaphor for neglect, The proof of what we choose to reject, The symbol of what we cast aside, The evidence of what we try to hide.

But do not pity me, dear friends For I have a message to send I am the reminder of what once was The memory of love, the essence of us.

So let me be the sock beneath the bed, The symbol of what was once said, For even in the shadows that we dread, There is a light that shines ahead.

William Mura, Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

PaintingYourSelfPortrait

We often hold our hands too open, hopin',

To collect others' opinions and affirmations

But we don’t realize that these are our greatest limitations

Because as we listen to the people around us

It is causing us to misdirect…

Our attention which is our biggest prevention from creating Our self-portrait, our identity.

This

Blank canvas

an individual entity

Full of possibility.

So instead of holding your hands open, hoping and hoping…

For what you can’t get

Close them on your paintbrush and don't fret…

Because whatever you create will be beautiful

As long as you don’t wait

And you will be glad you did.

Just like when you were a kid.

When you were creating

Colors fading

Pencil shading

Brush cascading

Family aiding

Not awaiting

Or debating

Soon abating

When you grow

Older…

You grow big and tall

But you realize you are actually not painting at all.

Because you are so stuck listening to the chatter

Of others.

Your family, friends, random people you don't know…

As you try to rearrange and change yourself to be the best in Every way

Cause you listen to what others say. Letting yourself stand there and watch as your paint gets Washed away. And so why…

In this free nation…

Would you let your identity go up for interpretation? Not how you want to be portrayed But how your image is being laid.

By others

And as they coat their own paint on

You see

How much of your originality Is actually gone…

And like the clouds in cloud gate

Your reflection is now only a warped version of the people Around you,

But like the clouds descending on the mountains, you are Above this beautiful inversion…

Because you have noticed in all of the colors of the earth, the rainbows in the sky when the clouds pass by They cover

Everything

In their shadow…

You just have to be your own light. Use that to guide you to pick up your brush which once confidently stood In the palm of your hand where it Could

And should Still be.

And shut out the voices of others, and make your own choices

- the ones that decide who you are.

Because every one of your experiences matters.

They all happen for a reason

So with this multitude

Of colors that lay on your platter

The anger of the Reds

The relaxing of the Blues

The growing of the Greens

The joy of the Yellows too

These rainbows of possibility every day in your life

These seasons

Of happiness and strife

Should give others a reason

Too look

And see

What you

Have been

Given.

So why not paint these gifts and talents into your work

Of art…

Because it is this that will truly set you

Apart.

So don’t let yourself hide your individuality, and incorporate

That into your personality

As you

Let your paintbrush guide you in any direction

So you don’t need to be scared of correction

Of perfection.

This… is your chance…

Don’t blow it.

Because you

Can’t Paint

Your self-portrait

If you Don’t Know

It. Gabrielle O’Neill, Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

TodayIama Tree

Today I am a tree. I feel like a strong tree rooted in the ground. I want to soak up the rain and splash in all the puddles with my reflection. I will stay strong when I get hurt. I won’t let my branches fall off. Today I am strong. Today I am definitely strong! I will fight through my challenges!

Taylor Reardon, Grade 2

Gleason Lake Elementary School, Plymouth

Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

Holes

Stuff that has happened online is crazy

People have used the web to escape the facts of life

People have also used the web to face those very same facts

People will search and search

For possibilities to pop past pain

And strain

But don’t realize That this searching Can cause you to become insane

In the brain

Like Jeffrey Dahmer’s murders

Inhumane

Now I tell ya

People have used the web for many things!

To maybe become more religiously connected

People might search for the lord

To help have holes in their souls restored

But

There are those few people

Who choose to keep their holes stored instead of getting them

Restored

They think it's too much to handle for other people

To channel all the stuff in their brains tick tick ticking away

like a freshly lit fast melting candle

So instead of seeking answers from real people

They will go out and find ways to cover the holes

Not fill them

So instead of seeking answers from real people

They will go out and fill themselves with lethal needles do Stuff that's illegal that is against the law as they sit

Not salute

To the flag and the American eagle

So instead of seeking answers from real people

They just destroy their life and turn it into a never ending Repeating story like one of those little beetles who just walk Around the desert rolling their little balls of fecal

People have used the web for many things

But if you think back to when the web wasnt around People would go talk to other people

They would get out!

And have real face to face interactions instead of giving in to Distractions

And they would talk about their holes

In their souls

And not sit and look at these modern technological Contraptions

They would talk to people

And they would Take

Action

So here I am telling you

Don’t give in to the distractions

Don’t give in to the dissatisfactions

Go out

Find people

Get those holes in your souls restored And Take

Action Oscar Graves , Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

It was an ordinary day at school and Roxy and her class were out at recess when she saw something strange. It was white like snow, but it wasn’t snow. It certainly was not winter, and the thing looked furry. Roxy looked closer. It was a bunny! And it looked familiar, like it was a pet.

Just then the lunch bell rang. Roxy went to get in line. She stopped to look at the bunny and the bunny looked back at Roxy. Its eyes twinkled!

After school, Roxy went to check on the bunny. It had a little bowtie that said “Fummle”

“Hmm,” said Roxy. “My friend has a bunny.” She gently picked it up and walked a few blocks to the club house she had made with her friends a few years ago. All her friends were there. “I found a bunny,” said Roxy as she stepped in to the room. All her friends gasped.

“What’s its name?” they asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Roxy, “but I think it’s Fummle!”

(To Be Continued)

ZR, Grade 3

Armstrong Elementary School, Cottage Grove

Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

LIKE PEACE

Peace is a snowflake, one of thousands

Peace is a light in the calm cool of darkness

Peace is a wolf running through the night

Peace is a waterfall crashing down

Peace is a bird that is singing its sweet song

Peace is a song sung from the heart

Peace is fragile, please don’t let it fall apart

Owen Ruzicka, Grade 4

Meadowbrook Elementary, Golden Valley

Teaching artist: Marie Olofsdotter

Howbadlydoyouwantit?

How badly do you want it?

How hard are you gonna work?

How much effort are you going to put in?

How badly do you want to say, “I did it”?

How badly do you want it?

How badly do you want to complete your goals?

Whether it’s going to state in your sport and getting The send off or getting a PR, How hard are you going to work to achieve your dreams?

How badly do you want it back?

How badly do you want that opportunity again?

Maybe it’s a failed relationship that you really wanted to Work out or a day where you could’ve just done better.

How hard are you gonna work to fix it?

How much effort are you gonna put in?

Are you gonna get it back, make it seem like nothing Happened

Or bring it back to normal?

Or are you just gonna let it slide right past you even though You’ll remember it forever? Think of what it could’ve been.

How badly do you want to say, “I did it”?

How badly do you want to feel pure joy as you realize what

All of your work turned into or are you just going to let it Bother you?

Get your relationship back, shoot your shot, get your old self Back,

Get new personal bests, just go for it.

Do you really want it?

Are you gonna put the work in to achieve it?

Only you know.

Norah Renstrom, Grade 9

Le Sueur-Henderson Middle School, Le Sueur

Teaching Artist: Desdamona

OneLight,OneLife,LotsofKindness

Darkness, depression, dullness, one light bulb will light a city. The more lightbulbs you have, the more light you have to light the world.

But it’s not enough for your darkness, depression, dullness. You are stuck and you can’t get out. But if you believe, you can achieve. Happiness, boldness, kindness, now that’s something that can light up the world. Now make a change

Kindness is so much more than a light. But when someone is mean to you. Crumble.

Darkness, depression, dullness. And you know that you want to cry. So you do.

You feel better and you want to be kind. So you light up the world, with you being you!

Anna Bordson-Nolle, Grade 5

Hillcrest

Community School, Bloomington

Teaching

Artist: Frank Sentwali

Kind World

Verse 1

I am loved

I am gonna be kind today

I am smart because I learn everyday

Pre-chorus

I love myself cause I am helpful I love myself and I love The world

Chorus

Welcome to our kind world

Where we treat others the way we want to be treated Every one belongs here

We are mindful with our hearts, here

Verse 1

I am loved

I am gonna be kind today

I am smart because I learn everyday

Pre-chorus

I love myself cause I am helpful I love myself and I love the world

Chorus

Welcome to our kind world

Where we treat others

the way we want to be treated

Every one belongs here

We are mindful with our hearts, here

Extra Ideas

I check in with someone to make sure they are okay and smart

I can do it

I can’t do this yet and naptime

I am smart

I am happy when friends laugh I’m excited when it’s my birthday

I choose to be happy

A mindful heart I belong here

Be Kind to others so they can be kind to you I love to be myself

Be You

Be Kind to the world I love to save the world

The world is the best place to be I like to be nice and I have a friend

Mr. Seipel’s Class, Grade 2 & 3

Park Elementary, Le Sueur

Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

I’mInTheZone

I’m in the Zone, I’m in the Zone Each one is good as a dog with a bone Red, Green, Yellow and Blue I’m in the Zone you! Red is mad, I’m out of control I’m devastated, I’m on a roll Time to take a break and let it go I’m in the Zone, I’m in the Zone!

I’m really happy, I’m in the Green I’m flying high like a bumble bee I’m ready to learn, ready to go I’m in the Zone, I’m in the Zone!

I run to Yellow, when I’m confused I need to hear the news When I’m upset, I need to reset I’m in the Zone, I’m in the Zone!

I am Blue like the sky I am tired so I’ll say “Goodbye” I wish I was a rainbow I’m in the Zone, I’m in the Zone.

Ms. Lime’s Class, Kindergarten

Saint Anthony Park Elementary, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

M.Y.SKIN:MixedandYoung

I was raised to believe that humans Should have equality

But over the years I have learned that equality is mere Mythology I descend from Aztec conquerors

But I’m never looked at as Mexican I’m looked at as light skin

Some don’t think I’m half black because I got bright skin some say I got the right skin Because In America most people only see color

But when I look at people I see brothers and sisters

But some have to work so hard they got bruises and blisters

We need to be Enlisters to find a new peace

Some say I got privilege from being mixed

Even though store owners still look at me when I shop

And that’s something that needs to be fixed He’s not black

They say I say how come

I still have a slave masters last name My ancestors were still whipped in the back all the same It Seems the only way black men make money know days Is With a mike in hand or dribbling a ball

We hate each other

And keep love to ourselves when there’s enough for us all Stay woke and stand tall

Because when time for action comes I hope you answer the Call

I hope that we pick each other up when we fall I hope that

You wouldn’t see me as too Mexican

Or see me as too black

I hope that you see me as human

My mother is an immigrant and a survivor

But her son isn’t seen as Mexican by some people All society Has given me is pain

But I hope one day we can all be seen as the same

Brandon Jackson, Grade 8

Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

LiveLifeand Love

This amazing gift we’ve all been given

The opportunity to enjoy living

It seems in our digital world

A cold whisper from texts causes us to curl Up

But even then we keep on going until the end

And when we think of life we forget to be grateful People

The time we have here should be filled with being Thankful

Life is an incredible thing and when we rest

We should stop and think about the lift of spirits it brings us

For we know that living does not always mean meeting

Gracious

People

Living means trying to understand others

Just like they are our sisters and brothers Obstacles will push us around and even when we’re on the ground

The important part is getting back Up

Although struggles are true and come through like a crew of Mad elephants that escaped the zoo

And yes, although words can cut like a knife

The light that emits from the enclosed souls inside us

Should be let out so that it can guide us And thus

We should try to be kinder as a reminder that love

Should be given not taken

And love or kindness is not just a token of affection

But a part of life that should not be taken for granted

And is not something that people are easily handed

Being the example is one way to handle

Living in a world where technology is the only way to Connect And a way for bullies to happily harass helpless high school Homies

Owning mistakes and trying to make the wrong a right Is the best way to be the light in the cruel darkness that this Would can hurl at you

When we walk down the warm streets with our warm feet Looking super preppy in our fresh Converse

We should tell the Universe

“Thank you for letting me live this wonderful life”

For life is something that you live only once

So don’t let your life cause you to feel like a dunce

Fill it with love Laughter

And living to the fullest

While remembering it as a precious gift that you’ve been Given

To use the opportunities that let you enjoy living And even in our digital universe

There are multiple verses Of texts

From incredible, intuitive Individuals

That warm the heart with more than one cart full of love

So when we rest and have finally fulfilled the day’s tests

We will not forget to be thankful for our time in this world And remember to be grateful To fulfill life’s destiny of living life And loving others

Evan Le, Grade 8

Valley View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

InMyDiamond Mind

In my diamond mind I see. A door.

On the other side a world.

Where kids arent scared to go out And kids aren't getting shot over loud.

I see grass and dirt.

Why do we keep hurting our earth? It's like we don't know our worth. In my diamond mind I see A better world Better people A better me. But there is no me in we.

U together as one. To make us better. In my diamond I see Us playing games as kids.

Not having worries Having fun watching pbs kids. But now I’m older

And see what the world really is.

In my diamond mind I see Us helping one another. I'm scared that I'm going to be a father.

In my diamond mind I see

Me growing up and making it to the league Not the NBA or the NFL.

I'm talking about the MLB But first I gotta focus on me. In my Diamond mind I see Everyone working together to save the earth In my diamond

Mind I see Not me Not he Not she But WE

Vincente Lopez-Marsh, Grade 9

Edison High School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

FindingMyPlace

He was a student new, In a place, he never knew. Amidst a sea of faces strange, He felt so disoriented, so out of range.

He was a seed, planted in a foreign land, Struggling to take root, to understand,

The new soil. The new sun. The new air, All so different, but he refused to despair.

He was a puzzle with pieces that didn't fit, Trying to find his place, bit by bit, Each day a new challenge, a new puzzle piece, But he didn't give up, he didn't cease to exist.

He laughed at jokes and he took part in the fun, wearing the foreign gear, And talked the tongue But deep inside he felt the strain, Flashing deep inside his brain, The sensation of not quite being sane.

He struggled to fit in, To assimilate, and blend in, Despite his best efforts, he failed, His determination and resilience, were to no avail.

He felt alone, lost, and small, Like a ship, adrift, without a port of call, No matter how hard he tried, He couldn't shake off the feeling of being denied.

The failures were painful, The constant rejections, so disdainful, But he refused to give up, His determination, an unbreakable cup.

He was a bird, learning to soar, Spreading his wings, embracing the cloudless blue sky, Sometimes he stumbled, like an avalanche of tumbling snow But with that in mind, he ascended from his position, having a firing passion to excel

With his presence, his voice, his unique flair, He made a mark, that others could not compare.

For he realized that being different was okay, That his unique perspective had its own sway,

So he stood firmly, with his head held high, higher than the mountains way up high, Embracing himself, and not asking why, For he knew that he had found his home, And in that realization, he was never alone.

JX, Grade8

South View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

AMagicMemory

Lizzie opened the door to her home. She had just moved to Burch Tree Road in the city of Fireville. She did not want to live there, “I hate it here,” she said to her mom. “Why do we have to live here?” A horrible smell as bad as spilled sour milk filled the house. The door screeched as she opened it to explore their junky neighborhood.

Now a scent like tasty treats filled her nostrils. There was a house next door that reminded Lizzie of the Higwarts castle from the movies. Lizzie wanted to see the inside. She knocked on the door and went inside. “Creak!” The floorboards under her feet creaked. Something fell from the ceiling and made Lizzie jump. It hit the floor with a crash and rats scurried out of the cracks. Lizzie said, “I am glad I’m not a rat! I would hate living here.”

She smelled the air. It smelled better than outside. It smelled like chocolate cookies. “Mmmm,” said Lizzie. But then she heard a howl. The floorboards creaked like they had when she came in. Then a big pile of slimey goo as slimey as a worm and as big as an elephant slid down the hallway. It filled the hallway as Lizzie tried to get out of the way. She spotted something out the corner of her eye peeking around a corner. It looked like a regular person, not a zombie, not a ghost, not a vampire a normal person!

A kid stepped out of the shadows and said, “My name is Macy. What’s yours? And do you want to go on an adventure.”

“And I have a question, soo,” said Lizzie. “What is that slimey goo?” she said gesturing to the stuff she was stuck in and looking at Macy with a pleading expression.

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot,” said Macy. “I made a batch of slime for something to play with and it got out of control. I’ll help you out.”

“Sueulck!” was the noise the goo made when Lizzie got out. “Ewww! It was like a whale’s stomach in there!” said Lizzie. “Soooo where are we going?” asked Lizzie.

“We aren’t just going anywhere,” said Macy. “We’re going to Wizard World!”

Wizard World? Thought Lizzie. That sounds like a good adventure to me! It sounds like Harry Potter’s world! “I love the sound of that!” said Lizzie. “What a great way to spend the afternoon!” screamed the girls in unison. “I love Harry Potter!” they both said.

Macy led Lizzie to a secret door under the stairs. She opened the door to a dark room. The darkness filled the hallway, and the house grew dark as night and the shutters opened and closed and a ladder appeared out of nowhere. Macy started climbing down, but Lizzie was not so sure. After a minute or two Macy must have noticed that Lizzie was not following and her head popped back up. “Come on, follow me. It leads to Wizard World,” she said.

“Okay, Macy, but you can’t go ahead of me,” said Lizzie.

“Okay!” cried Macy, but she was thinking, Yes! I can’t believe I convinced her! The she grabbed Lizzie’s hand and her head disappeared.

“How did you get the door of Wizard World open?” Lizzie yelled, but she couldn’t hear herself because they were going so fast.

“I have a secret locket my granma gave me when we moved here. It opens every door in the house and is pretty useful

when I want to hide from my parents when I am going to get in trouble.”

Then they hit the ground with a plop! When Lizzie opened her eyes, she saw she was in a beautiful castle. Lizzie and Macy each looked around with a grin.

The room they were in was filled with cobwebs and dust, The room was silent. Nobody spoke or moved. Then Lizzie looked out the window, There in front of her eyes was HOGWARTS! She looked around the room and wondered aloud, “Well, if this is Higwarts, then where are we?”

They were in the Shrieking Shack! Then they fell through the portal and got home. Lizzie went home happy she had made a new friend.

Chloe Peters, Grade 4

Armstrong Elementary School, Cottage Grove

Teaching Arist: Stephen Peters

Friendship

Chorus

We’re writing a friendship song

To show our love for one another

We’re kind, when we play together

We greet with a hi5, hug or wave

Verse

We share toys to be kind

We take care because sharing is caring

On the playground we fly so high

So happy we can reach the sky

We are kind friends

In the morning meeting

When we dance

We are happy

We are good

We are good friends

I love me

We are all friends

We love each other

We share toys

We help out

We draw a love heart

We are touching the sky

Ms. Mcloone’s Class, Pre Kindergarden

Lyndale Community School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

Music can define what once was, what is, and what will be. The oldest form of communication keeping time like a grandfather clock a steady knock.

Hearing this tempo puts me at ease, I’m easy to please. Music has many branches, a family tree that has a family of trees who are homes to millions and billions of little bees, easy to please like me.

The wood used to create the messengers of music is the wood from the same trees whose roots interconnect genres, therefore you and me.

The guitar is made from the wood of the rural radiata pine, but also the wood of the urban maple tree, once again connecting you and me.

Music is community. Nobody's music is worth anymore than anyone else's, a completely balanced currency used to buy hearts and souls for people who only had empty gaping holes, where it can get as cold as the poles.

Music is art you can hear. Music is art you can feel. Music does not have one definition, I feel the only way to define it is to leave it undefined, to let it simmer, to create a stew. It tastes different to everybody, some taste the beef, others the onion, you might feel the waiter that brings it to you.

Music is history, blissful, and blistering. Recounting tales of the past, through juba dance or classical flute, telling stories through sometimes, the strings of a lute. Often times when I go to bed at night, music is the last thing I hear.

Going right through my headphones, into my ear.

Those mornings, I wake up feeling my best ready for any one of the days May tests.

I listen to music during the day, using it to to guide my mood, one of the many variables at play during the day.

I get home, the first thing to enter my dome is Get on the drum kit, feel the beat of the kick, the cymbals that symbolize the way that I feel. All truth, no lies. My every waking hour, im listening to, playing, or thinking about music. music is amazing. It's not made specifically for me, or for you

But all the same It sticks to us like glue.

August Hill-Jacobson, Grade 9

Edison High School, Minneapolis

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

MomentsI livefor

You start teaching because you have a passion.

At least, that’s why I started teaching.

I was just a kid thinking “What could be better than dancing and being with little kids?”

5 years later, it has grown into so much more than that.

I thrive off of my relationships with these girls

And have the drive to change their lives for the better.

Getting to know that they like drawing and reading

Or that they’re also really good at hockey

So we connect on a personal level.

When they come to class ready to tell me something exciting

And give me little handmade gifts and cards

My heart smiles and bursts with joy.

All these little moments are what get us to our final destination.

To the big stage or to the court

Where they get to show off everything they learned. Those are the moments I live for.

Sitting on the sidelines, smiling, seeing my students Being there with my fellow teachers.

Beaming with pride because we know what they’ve been through, how far they’ve come.

We’ve seen the good days when they use their listening ears, get a lot done, and earn a game at the end of class.

We’ve also seen the bad days when they only want to talk to their friends and have no motivation.

But when I’m watching them perform, When I see them jump as one and not as popcorn

When one girl nails the move she’s struggled with for weeks

That’s when I know it was all worth it.

That’s when I know every second was worth it.

Seeing them be so proud of themselves for overcoming their fears and getting on that stage.

Hearing them tell me “I smiled so big my jaw hurts.”

That’s when I know every second leading up to this was worth it.

Every second wishing class would end or wishing they would just listen got them to this moment. This moment we’ve been waiting for Them dancing under the bright lights Their bejeweled costumes and poms shining bright like diamonds.

That moment will always reignite the fire, the passion The passion that started so young. The passion that will always be there because of moments like these.

Anna Migliori, Grade 8

Valley View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

So Good!

First you find a sugar bush, a grove of Maple trees

Then you find the month of March with a sunny breeze—AND IT’S SO GOOD!

Then you put in the spike, and sap begins to run The sap flows so much better, when the tree is in the sun AND IT’S SO GOOD!

Soooogood!It’ssogoodandsweet! Andit’ssogood!Ican’twaittoeat!

Then we build a fire, get it nice and hot Pour the sap in the pan out at “Tom’s Sweet Spot” AND IT’S SO GOOD!

Just look at all the bubbles, smell the maple in the air—Keep that pan a boiling, in the woods way down there AND IT’S SO GOOD

-JAWHARP-

(THENCHORUS)

Forty gallons of maple sap makes a gallon of “liquid gold” Slide your finger around the pan like sugar in a bowl AND IT’S SO GOOD!

Filter it into a bottle, then on graduation day

We get a little maple syrup, to take away AND IT’S SO GOOD! (Chorus)

“Opus Pancakes” door to door, coming to your room—Now everybody gets a taste of the hard work that we do AND IT’S SO GOOD!

(CHORUSTWICEANDCLOSE)

Mrs. Moon’s Class, Grade 5

Four Corners Elementary, Superior Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

ThereIsa Darkness

There is a darkness deep inside

The creeping kind

Some push it back

But the walls are torn by society's insistent tide

Like a caged animal

it doesn’t sit idly by

It pries the bars open wide

Lets its darkness pour outside

You look from side to side

And see smiles of joy

But you are all on the same ride.

They say everyone's got a lot in life

I say everyone’s got the same road-block in life. It’s known as human greed.

Instead of fight it all we do is let it feed.

Even at a young age there is a seed

Nurtured by the things they see,

In order to water it we need to make others bleed

We are taught that the pain is out-weighed by the gain

That all that matters is the fame

That this world is one massive game

But people aren’t numbers

These thoughts must be sundered

People say that all they need is more

But money doesn’t make you stronger

Nor your life longer

That job will only make your life hollower

There is a tunnel that never ends

Nor curves or bends

There is a light

That shines so bright

It must be a glorious sight

And the tunnel is as black as night

So cold it bites

And yet this is the place where all humans have rights

The darkness isn’t so cold if we follow each other’s light

We can shine bright

But we must first define wrong from right

This is everybody's fight

There is a light at the end of the tunnel

A light that cannot be reached.

Holden Hample, Grade 8

South View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Lima,Perú

Neon signs are the fire in a loud night. Sounds of an old theater groaning like a wounded animal pierce the honking of cars in the rumbling downtown. Motorcycles zoom, breaking every traffic rule, and small sevicherías line the four-lane highway that spins through the city like a mythological serpent. Lima bustles like a beast, swirling past old shopfronts and shopping malls.

Lima is a fire, a river, a window in a cold, dark room. Lima is a light in the darkness.

Vicente Wong-Busse, Grade 5

Saint. Paul Academy Lower School, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

Perfect World

In my diamond mind you’ll find A woman president who stands up for what she believes in and is proud to be the first

In my diamond mind you’ll find There are no school shootings No shooting at all People are safe no guns no nothing

In my diamond mind you’ll find Even sometimes someone will give up a dime quarter, dollar, food, water So they can be healthy and live

In my diamond mind you’ll find A girl who can get an abortion So she doesn’t have to worry about raising a child when she is a child herself

In my diamond mind you’ll find people are not discriminated by their race and we all hold hands Because we are one

In my diamond mind you’ll find Peace peace World peace like a pack of wolves who rely on each other To get through it

In my diamond mind you’ll find this can all happen and it’s true

In your diamond mind I hope it’s the same for you

Frances Healy, Grade 5

Saint. Anthony Park Elementary, Saint Paul

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

ThankYou

This journey has been the best as it lasted

It seems like it has fasted

From kindergarten to fifth grade

I don’t know how to repay

Thank you

All the great catches I had

To getting staples on the head

Nose gushing

Blister bubbling

Head cracking

Ankle breaking

From serving snack

To getting kicked in the back

Thank you

Down to the wire

Test being required

Thank you

From jumping over bars

To making a story about mars

Thank you

From running relays

To having lag delay

Thank you

From fall

To fall

I can remember them all

The memories went by fast

Like lightning

My smile big as

A tsunami

People dapping

Me up and down the hall

I can remember them all

Running fast it appeared

My legs were a blur

This journey has been the best

Thank

you

Royal Oaks Elementary School

Navi Schultz, Grade 5

Royal Oaks Elementary School, Woodbury

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Odeto Mom

Oh, mom.

The way you cook spaghetti and sliders. The way you love dad.

You love your six kids.

Oh, mom.

Your kind heartedness, The way you tell little fibs. You just open the school doors and drive me from place to Place.

Oh, mom.

You have MANY personalities like, Happy, mad, sad, excited, nervous, scared, and stressed. But you're “Only one person” as you like to say.

Oh, mom.

The way you don’t like to say no, Because you're scared we’ll not like you. All six of us will love you unconditionally.

Oh, mom.

The way I’ll love you forever.

Livia Smith, Grade 7

Roseau Secondary, Roseau

Teaching Artist: Desdamona

Clouds

Light as a feather, fluffy like marshmallows

Oh, how you change my emotions instantly

Our mother chooses a different way to represent you every day

Your amount differs between the dates of the year

Soaring so high above me but I can still tell how you’re

Light as a feather, Fluffy like a marshmallow

Oh, how the wind blows you every direction

How you see all there is to see in this world, from one side to the other

You change my emotions instantly

From storm to sun, you’re there through it all

Making everything come together, pouring life to the soil and shade to the heat

Our mother chooses a different way to represent you every day

Greta Kvien, Grade 7

Roseau Secondary, Roseau

Teaching Artist: Desdamona

AllStarsShine

We shine more than the biggest star

Be Kind, Be respectful be helpful

When things are blue, we shine right through

We shoot through the sky

We can walk on the moon

We Light up the dark

Shine Bright in the sky

We come down when we’re ready

Stars shine bright

All of us shine

We’re all stars

We are a star

Shine Bright in the sky

We come down when we’re ready

Crystals

We shoot through the sky

Diamonds shine

We are the way of music

Be nice

Be Kind

Be respectful be helpful

Ms. Watkins’ Class, Grade 3

Northview Elementary, Eagan

Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

Phoenix

Humility blooms a flower of selflessness rooted in kindness Roots from the cold dark soil struggling to survive make the greatest impact on their plants.

So it grows even in winter when no vitals are shown. This plant has paid the ultimate price. But it fights through the torture.

So it grows.

This plant is one step away from success. One step away from being the plant every other plant envies. One step away from towering over vast countrysides. One step away, the plant takes the step.

So it grows.

The tree is finally known. As it reaches to the sky, embracing the heavens. Waving to all who pass by.

A man in a patterned jacket returns the gesture. Embracing the tree and leaving it with a gift, an orange ribbon, wrapped around its base marking the tree so he can return to its glory. He returns with an axe to ensure he will see every moment of the tree’s life.

So it dies.

There lay its seed. Basking in the tree’s former glory. The seed buries it self in the cold dark soil. Where it will stay and bloom a rooted flower of selflessness rooted in kindness.

Will Gieseke, Grade 9

Red Lake County Central School, Oklee

Teaching Artist: SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE

PattisonPark

Let’s go down To Pattison Park Let’s go down To Pattison Park

Let’s go down—To Pattison Park Let’s go down, let’s go down

See the waterfall At Pattison Park See the big lake At Pattison Park

Let’s go camping—At Pattison Park Let’s go down, let’s go down

It was a gift Pattison Park By a Pioneer Pattison Park

Geese and frogs Pattison Park Let’s go down, let’s go down

-Clap to beat-

See the quiet deer At Pattison Park See the noisy birds At Pattison Park

See the splashy fish At Pattison Park

Let’s go down—let’s go down Let’s go down let’s go down!

Ms. Rickman’s Class & Mrs. Anderson, Grade 1 Four Corner Elementary, Superior

Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

When Flora reached the forest, she saw no one. She looked around the place, but she didn’t see her friend. “Wisteria!” shouted Flora. “Wisteria!”

Still, her friend didn’t come.

Then, tears dropped from her eyes. She couldn’t find her. Then, still crying, she left the forest walking slowly with drooping ears.

“Wisteria…” Flora said quietly. “Wisteria…” She then had to find her, but she couldn’t. She still had drooping ears.

When she came back home, she went to her room and flopped in there. She put her pillow over her face.

“What’s wrong lil sis?” Asked Rose, Flora’s big sister.

“My friend’s… gone.” Answered Flora sadly.

Then, Rose went outside and sniffed the air. She smelled her friend’s flower scent.

“Uh… sis,” said Rose in a not-so-good way. “I think I know where your friend went.”

Then, Flora sniffed the air. “Wisteria was taken by… by… by humans!” Flora said.

Then Flora told her mom that she was going on an adventure.

“Here are some snacks, some water, and a mega berry,” said her mom. “Now you’re all good to go!”

Then, Flora started her journey. She took a mega berry and turned big. She was as big as a cat. Then, she started running. Swift as wind, she dodged the trees, the rocks, and bushes. She even ate some snacks too.

Once she made it to the city, it was beautiful! There were buildings, cars, and stations. She decided to take pictures of the places and send them to her mom.

When her mom saw the photos, she was hot as fire. Her face was angry and she slammed her phone to the counter. “Girls!!!” shouted her mom in an angry way. “Get in the living room!”

“Uh oh.” said Rose. “I think we’re in trouble.

When the girls sat down, her mom made a text to Flora. “How many times have I told you not to go to the city!?” Rose! You’re the big sister! Why did you make Flora go to the

city!?” Rose looked down at her paws. “I will find your sister and don’t do anything ridiculous!” Warned her mother.

Her mother packed 4 mega and mini berries. Then, she went out of the door. She ate a mega berry and turned big. She ran as fast as she could to reach the city.

Once she made it there, she secretly ate a mini berry and turned very tiny. Then, she started running, trying to prevent herself from being seen. Then, she found her daughter. Her eyes widened and filled with anger.

“Flora!” shouted her mother as she was running toward her. Flora saw her mother in surprisement. “Flora! What are you doing in the city!? You know you shouldn’t be here!” Yelled her mother.

”Mother,” started FLora, “I’m trying to find my friend. I sense her. I have to go. Even if I have to go here.” Then, Flora ran off.

“Flora!” shouted her mother. Then, she turned around and ran back home.

When FLora was running, she made sure to keep track of her friend’s scent. When she made it there, she saw two evil humans. “Now that we found this creature, we shall be famous!” said one human. Flora looked around and saw her friend in a cage. Her heart was pounding quick as a cheetah. She also saw the humans’ pet, a cougar. The cougar was about to look at her, but, in a split of a second, she hid somewhere. Then, when the cougar wasn’t watching, Flora charged at the cougar. Bang! Crash! Boom! Plop!

Then, the two humans turned around. They saw their cougar fall to the floor.

Flora was very scared. She didn’t like humans, but to save her friend, she must face humans. So, with a mega berry, she turned big. “Hey! You evil white-coat people!” shouted Flora.

“Actually, we’re scientists,” said one of the scientists. “Oh, and our names are called James and Ray,” said James. “Come and meet our cougar, Shadow.”

Shadow then came to Flora. It had wide blue eyes with anger. Flora had to think fast. So, she spread out orange flowers. Then the flowers burst like balloons. There was pollen

everywhere. With the cougar and scientists blind, Flora found something sharp and opened the cage.

“Come on,” said Flora. Then, Flora and Wisteria ran as fast as they could, but Flora stepped on something sharp.

“Yeeoow!” shouted Flora falling to the floor. Her right toe was bleeding.

“Are you okay?” asked Wisteria. “Yeah, but it hurts,” said Flora. Then, Wisteria found some paper towels and wrapped it around Flora’s leg.

“There,” said Wisteria. “Now, let’s get outta here. Your pollen attack is almost gone.”

Wisteria and Flora ran. Flora looked in her bag, but she didn’t see a mini berry.

“We need a mini berry!” said Flora.

“I got one,” said Wisteria.

They ate the mini berries and turned small. When the evil scientists and Shadow opened their eyes, Wisteria and Flora were gone. “We’ll get those creatures next time,” said Ray.

When Flora and Wisteria got back to the forest, they went inside Flora’s house.

“Mom! I’m home!” said Flora.

Her mom wasn’t angry like she was earlier, she was happy. “Flora, I’m just glad that you are back.” Then, Flora hugged her mom. It was the best adventure ever.

Koshoua Vang, Grade 5

Meadowbrook Elementary, Golden Valley

Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

TheRabbit and Princess

Once upon a time there was a sweet, generous, caring princess who liked to explore. Her name was Francine one day after lunch Francine said to her mother “can I go explore outside?” Her mom responded saying, “yes, but just be careful,” once Francine heard a simple yes she scurried upstairs and put on some old ragged clothes. Halfway through the forest she stumbled across a big bright yellow door was on a gigantic oak tree that was as tall as a giant beanstalk. So Francine decided to open the door and went inside and suddenly she stuck in a room. She took one step and she was soaring in mid-air and she land on an enormous marshmallow, and towering over her was a RABBIT! He had a tall magician hat that was black as midnight and a blue cotton coat with a red bow tie that had white polka dots on it. He looked at her with a confused face. She sat up and said” where am I? “Because it was very light and mysterious then the rabbit sat down ‘plop’. Francine went flying and said woohoo and plopped on the marshmallow.

Then they finally got out this small mysterious door and the rabbit demanded “Francine go put on a blue puffy dress with red bows for the next surprise” and so she did. They went on a hike to this beautiful and enchanted magical garden with flowers singing and dancing. They saw a giant table with a white tablecloth with every food you could imagine! It's amazing and wonderful and Francine was speechless but scared, and wanted to go home. Because the mysterious rabbit know her name, first and last. She was starving though it felt like it had been days since her last meal. She sat down at the huge table and started filling her plate with ham and turkey and cookies and croissants and fruit.

And when she finished all that food she laid down for a while thinking how worried her mother was.

When she woke up she was not in an enchanted magical garden she was in a dark scary place where she didn't feel welcome. She looked around and didn’t see the rabbit, instead she saw something else… It looked like a smelly mischievous raccoon that smelled like rotten garbage. He said “Bonjour my name is Albert and you are welcome at my cozy safe burrow.” Francine tried to look calm on the outside but was having a panic attack on the inside. She asked where she was and how she got there. Albert said “this place always NEEDED an authentic person like you so… I reached out to my friend Harry the rabbit and he said he had the perfect person.”

Francine was shocked, she thought the rabbit was just a friendly innocent person. Now she wished with ALL her heart that she could go home and she could hear her favorite step go ‘Creak’ when she ran up it. She tried to get out of this devastating disaster by asking in her feel-sorry-for-me- voice that obviously didn't work. Suddenly there was a ‘beep beep’, it was a phone! When the raccoon heard it he almost blew up with worry he sprinted to a door and opened it as he walked in he slammed the door shut and said “I wasn't expecting you to call. I thought I had 4 hours left.” the next words were just sounds to Francine because she couldn't understand him he walked for 20 minutes, pacing back and forth back and forth, then he stopped so hard he almost fell over he said “someone called me and plans have changed I NEED you to go in that room and put on the dress on the RIGHT okay?”.

She didn't know what to say so she obeyed the raccoon. The dress with sparkly and dark blue, her favorite color. Francine came out and the raccoon said “great follow me.” And, so she

did, Albert then abandoned her in a room and another figure popped up!!! She was like here we go again!

The figure was a tall middle-aged woman with blonde hair. Francine was so relieved it was a human, finally she had enough courage to speak up, “where am I?” She said in her saddest, most scared voice EVER! To make the women feel sorry for her and help her get home. It sounded like her mother replying so it was comforting she said, “I'm going to need you to follow me, I know today has been a roller-coaster but trust me it WILL be worth it. The mysterious woman was right. Today was a roller coaster but if today was really this wild it was probably worth it.

She followed the women into this room that looks like the waiting room at the doctor. The woman sat on the chair and took a cleansing deep breath and said “kid we're almost at the surprise.” I sighed and said “okay” I just want to go home. It was a long time until the woman said her name, it was a pretty name to be honest or at least I thought it was she said “the name is Miss Maddie'' cutting the silence. I replied “I bet you already know my name.” Miss Maddie replied saying “all the people you met today knew your name.” but Francine didn't think it meant anything, then she heard the same ‘beep' she heard on the Raccoon’s phone. Once Miss Maddie saw the message she hopped up and said “we gotta go.”

Finally we stopped right in front of a dark blue colored door that said “Francine” in a fancy writing. Ms. Maddie said, “close your eyes” and so she did. Suddenly Francine felt a hot hand on her wrist pulling her closer to the dark blue door. The mysterious person opened the door and it went ‘Creak’ the person let go of Francine’s wrist and said “open your eyes,” when she did, she saw the best and biggest and most special golden birthday party EVER!” She saw all her friends from

a fire, a river, a window

Ariel to Sadie and her cousins Cameron and Lucy and her sister Madeline. It was just enchanted and magical, she saw a cake that was taller than a toddler and a chocolate fountain, and all the food that exists. And a glass statue of Francine. It was INCREDIBLE, there were dragonflies flying around and once everyone was done saying their farewells they left.

Francine's family cleaned up and went out a small yellow door on an oak tree.

THE END

Brynn Fredrickson, Grade 4

Hilltop Elementary School, Henderson

Teaching Artist: Stephen Peters

BeBold

In our world I see children forced to give up their dreams, as their minds weep for the childhood it could not keep. Forced to fit the mold set by the old, they can’t accept the fact that sometimes the bold are more important than the old. For it is the bold that break societies mold, and take ahold of the endless possibilities and creativities to change society's depiction.

So be bold and implode your ideas onto the world. Inspire those with the difficulty to see the overwhelming possibilities that each one of you holds. Take that bravery and use it, be it, because only certain people are going to see it the way that you view it.

So dream, child, Dream.

Because your potentials are endless so express this and dream.

Dream of whatever you please, do it quietly, loudly, even on your knees.

The father, the son, and the holy spirit gave you that so use it, be all that.

Dream of the days where you would play all day before the sun went away.

Where your heart of gold not tainted by the old was as pure as a baby’s smile. Where words on a page could take you to a superbly splendid summer isle.

Where monsters would lurk in the murk, only to be slaughtered by the marauders and the sons and daughters from far away lands.

Where the sun smiled down on them as they lived out their days.

So do it, Dream.

Dream and believe. Because you are the only one that can make yourself seen.

Ava Winge, Grade 8

Valley View Middle School, Edina

Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Le Sueur-Henderson Middle Khloe Silvas 54

Le Sueur-Henderson Middle School Nora Renstrom 132

Lyndale Community School Ms. Grier’s 57

Lyndale Community School Ms. Mcloone’s 151

Meadowbrook Elementary Zain Abdilatif 27

Meadowbrook Elementary Elena Galiullin 51

Meadowbrook Elementary Owen Ruzicka 131

Meadowbrook Elementary Koshoua Vang 172

Northeast Middle School Nico Weatherspoon 13

Northeast Middle School Diamond ValenciaWiyaka 9

Northview Elementary Mr. Sell’s 56

Northview Elementary Ms. Watkin’s 168

Oak Hill Montessori Tyyna Hall 4

Oak Hill Montessori Liza Kaufmann 67

Park Elementary

Park Elementary Mr. Mr. Seipel’s Christoffer’s 135 137

Patrick Henry High School Mubarik Hassan 49

Patrick Henry High School Andrea Velasquez Rivera 2

Perpich Center for Arts Education Jae Blondo 46

Perpich Center for Arts Education Mia Tamez 36

Red Lake County Central School Will Gieseke 169

Red Lake County Central School Natalee Hendrickson 85

Red Lake County Central School Emma Hendrickson 111

Red Lake County Central School Graceyn Kvsager 31

Roseau Elementary Avril Huener 109

Roseau Elementary Vansh Sharma 80

Roseau Secondary Jasmine Barlow 37

Roseau Secondary Greta Kvien 167

Roseau Secondary Karina Preteau 44

Roseau Secondary Livia Smith 166

Royal Oaks Elementary School Navi Schultz 164

Royal Oaks Elementary School Phynn Yang 43

Saint Anthony Park Elementary Frances Healy 162

Saint Anthony Park Elementary Mr. Terrones’s 94

Saint Paul Academy Keira Coughlin 112

a fire, a river, a window

COMPASTeachingWriters 2022-23

Alexei Moon Casselle

Alison Bergblom Johnson

Beverly Cottman

Caley Vickerman

Charlie Maguire

Danny Solis

Desdamona

Frank Sentwali

Glenda Reed

Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

Jen Scott

Jon Lurie

Joyce Sidman

Julia Klatt Singer

Kashimana Ahua

Kevin Strauss

Kristoff Krane (Christopher Keller)

Louis Porter II

MaLLy

Marie Olofsdotter

May Lee-Yang

Morgan Grayce Willow

Naomi Cohn

Saymoukda Vongsay

See More Perspective

Stephen Peters

Zoë Bird

COMPAS works with over 100 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.

COMPASMissionandPrograms

COMPAS delivers creative experiences that unleash the potential within all of us.

CreativeClassroom

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.

CreativeCommunity

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.

Justice Arts

Helping justice involved youth and adults 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 partnered with COMPAS to incorporate the program into our offerings. The program has grown to offer any artform and support justice involved youth and adults in Minnesota.

Our talentedwriters,musicians,visualartistsand performanceartistsinspireallageswithhands-on programsthroughoutMinnesota.

Formoreinformationonanyoftheseprogramscontact COMPASat:651.292.3249orinfo@compas.org.

COMPAS Staff2022-23

Dawne Brown White, Executive Director

Marlaine Cox, Arts Program Manager

Matt Levy, Arts Program & Content Manager

Joan Linck, Director of Strategic Development

Sam Massaglia, Marketing & Communications Director

Elwyn Ruud, Northwest Area Arts Coordinator

Katie Schmieg Miller, Arts Program Manager

Emma Seeley, Arts Program Manager

Julie Strand, Arts Program Director

Emrys Yang, Program & Development Coordinator

COMPAS Board ofDirectors2022-23

Elizabeth Sheets, President

Yvette Trotman, Past President

Mimi Stake, Vice President

Jeff Goldenberg, Treasurer

Amy Lucas, Secretary

Tracy Robertson, Human Resources Chair

Virajita Singh, Executive Committee At-Large

Andrew Leizens, Strategic Plan Chair

Heidi Fehlhaber

Iren Bishop

Ann Dayton

Melissa Drwall-Hrad

Jessica Gessner

Stephen Hawley, PhD

Brittany Keefe

Ryan Kopperud

Dr. Louis Porter II

Greta (Margaret) Rudolph, JD

Dameun Strange

Sonya Šustáček

EmeritusBoard

Cheryl Bock

Roderic Hernub Southall

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 November along with all the students within these pages. This year’s judge is the anthology’s editor May Lee-Yang.

Thewinnersare:

BEST WRITING, GRADES K-3:

“I am a tree,” byTaylorReardon , Grade 2

Gleason Lake Elementary School, Plymouth

BEST WRITING, GRADES 4-5:

“Read Between the Lines,” byElena Galiullin , Grade 5, Meadowbrook Elementary School, Golden Valley

BEST WRITING, GRADES 6-7:

“Untitled,” byArianna Daniels , Grade 7

Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis

BEST WRITING, GRADES 8-9:

“Unspoken Words,” byLiza Kaufmann, Grade 8

Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview

BEST WRITING, GRADES 10-12:

“The Interplay of Light and Shadow on Ceramic,” by JaeBlondo, Grade 12

Perpich Arts High School, Golden Valley

May Lee-Yang is a Twin Cities-based writer, performer, and educator. Her plays have been produced in Minnesota, Wisconsin, Alaska, and California. Through COMPAS, she has taught creative writing and theater in the schools, libraries, jails, community sites, and online. Fun fact: She has over one hundred nieces and nephews ranging in age from just-born to forty-years- old. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Minnesota where she also teaches.

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. A dedication to four faithful donors that have made an incredible difference in Minnesota

The writings in this book reflect hours of dedicated work by students and teaching artists with support of COMPAS staff and board members. They also reflect the dedicated efforts of people who support this work behind the scenes to make each classroom residency possible – our COMPAS contributors!

This year, we extend a hearty thank you to two couples who have each financially supported COMPAS for almost 40 of our 49 years: Stanley and Jane Hooper, and Jim Rustad and Kay Thomas.

These are extraordinary individuals who hold dear to our core beliefs, that participation in the arts is a vital part of education, and through creativity, people can change the world.

Their gifts over the years have had an enduring impact on students across Minnesota. Through creative programs, and in this case, opportunities to amplify students’ voices through the literary arts specifically, these two couples made it possible

for students to be inspired to dig deeper than they’d thought to look before, ask questions they’d never thought to ask, and discover wisdom they never knew they had.

Thank you for your steadfast commitment to the COMPAS mission and vision.

COMPAS strengthens communities and individuals in Minnesota by engaging them through creative experiences. Since its inception in 1974, COMPAS has become one of the most active community arts organizations in the nation. COMPAS works with well over 33,000 K-12 students each year and more than 65,000 total participants of all ages.

Even before COMPAS was a full-fledged organization, it was sending writers into schools. Work began during the 1967-68 school year as The Art of Poetry. In time, the program became known as Writers & Artists in the Schools (WAITS). Today the program is known as Creative Classroom. Programs occur in over 100 schools each year, providing services in a wide range of literary, visual, musical, performing and cultural arts. The work included in this 44th anthology edition a fire, a river, a window represents the inspired collaboration between eleven COMPAS TeachingWriters, hundreds of classroom teachers and thousands of students acrossMinnesota.