COMPAS 2025–26 Anthology of Student Writing: Us Kids (We Know More Than They Think) by COMPAS

Us Kids (We Know More Than They Think)

Us Kids (We Know More Than They Think) Selected Works From COMPAS Creative Classroom & Youth Arts Programs 2025–2026 Edited by Karlyn Coleman Cover Art by Rachel Lee Interior Art by Quang Do Please be advised that this book features a diverse collection of student writing from young authors ages 5 to 18. As such, some pieces may include mature themes or language that may not be suitable for all age groups. COMPAS Teaching Artists support students in expressing their authentic voices and do not influence or censor the subject matter. All writing reflects the students’ own ideas, experiences, and creativity.

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Publication of this book is generously supported by the Lillian Wright and C. Emil Berglund Foundation. This activity is made possible by the voters of Minnesota through a Minnesota State Arts Board Operating Support grant, thanks to a legislative appropriation from the arts and cultural heritage fund. Additional support has been provided by many generous individuals, corporations, and foundations. 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 this anthology, Us Kids (we Know More Than They Think) is taken from Stella Owen’s piece, “Us Kids” on page 2. © 2026 COMPAS ISBN 978-0-927663-89-2 Book production: Amanda Hestwood, Brittany Keefe, Mia Gifford, and the COMPAS staff Book layout: Brittany Keefe Interior artwork: Quang Do; Cover artwork: Rachel Lee Music, additional words, and arrangements © 2026 by Charlie Maguire and Mello-Jamin Music All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews. COMPAS | COMPAS.org 450 Syndicate Street North, Suite 325, Saint Paul, MN 55104 Print production: Smartpress, 950 Lake Dr., Chanhassen, MN iv

Dedication for the 47th Edition of the COMPAS Anthology of Student Writing Jim Rustad was part of the COMPAS family from the very beginning. For decades, he helped shape who we are through his generosity, wisdom, and unwavering belief in the power of the arts. He served COMPAS in many roles, as a board member, donor, advisor, advocate, and friend, but above all, he was a champion for ensuring that every person could experience the transformative power of creativity. One of Jim’s favorite COMPAS traditions was the annual release of the Anthology of Student Writing. Each year, he looked forward to gathering with young writers and their families, celebrating as students received their books, stepped up to the microphone, and shared their stories, poems, and reflections with confidence and pride. Jim often spoke about the hope these young writers gave him. Their creativity, honesty, and talent reminded him of what is possible when young people are encouraged to find and share their voices. Jim understood that the arts do more than teach skills. They build connection, nurture empathy, and help us imagine a better future. Through his steadfast support of COMPAS, he helped make those opportunities available to countless young people across Minnesota. Together with his beloved partner, Kay Thomas, he left an enduring mark on Minnesota’s arts community and on the generations of students, artists, educators, and families whose lives have been enriched through creative expression. Every page in this anthology reflects the values Jim held dear: curiosity, courage, imagination, and hope. While many of the students whose lives he touched never had the chance to meet him, his generosity helped make their creative journeys possible. We dedicate this anthology to Jim’s memory with deep gratitude and affection, honoring a man whose belief in young people and the arts continues to inspire us.

Table of Contents Editor’s Introduction | xiii

We Know Some Things Us Kids......................................................... Stella Owen | 2 What Have We Come To?.......................... Price Miller | 4 Why Do I Read ........................................... Malena Rupp | 6 Origami ....................................................... Otis Ashwood | 9 To the Future Kids of America.................. Maija Kain-Malmberg | 10 Peace Is Super Special................................ Kian El Sawaf | 12 Small Box .................................................... Lisbet Carlson | 14 Dear You ...................................................... L. N. | 16 Time ............................................................. Zach Walz | 17 Kids ............................................................. Hazel Rae | 18 Canoeing With Heaton .............................. M. J. | 20 Gratitude ..................................................... Mrs. Gupton’s Class | 22 Under the Lone Tree................................... Jack(ie) Rosbolt | 23 Untitled ....................................................... G. | 24 Fall Patterns................................................ Ahlam Mohamed | 26 (Anxiety) ...................................................... Rhianna Levy | 28 Love Is Beauty ............................................ Walter Reisdorf | 30 Peace Is ........................................................ June Beier | 31 Suicide ......................................................... Z. W. | 32 The Performance of Imperfection ............ Emery Phillips | 34 My Generation Can Change…Right?....... Le-ticia Greaves | 36 Art ................................................................ Zia Troutman | 37

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When I Open My Eyes When I Open My Eyes…............................ Martina Gomez Arango | 40 The Deep Sea .............................................. Ellie Halverson | 42 Vikings ......................................................... Harper Braun | 42 Peace—I Am a Bird Pushing the Wind..... M. B. | 43 The Night Is Awakening ............................ Louisa Winscher | 43 Adjectives..................................................... Piper Coleman | 44 Untitled ....................................................... Adela Schmidt | 47 Uncomfortable ............................................ E. W. | 48 Dear Father.................................................. Knox Frederickson | 50 Different Talents.......................................... Mr. Siepel’s Class | 53 Would You Come Home ............................ Gilma Winanz | 54 Today I Am a Firefly................................... Roman Krzmarzick | 55 Space Is the Place ....................................... Mr. Terrones’ Class | 56 She Is Dominant ......................................... Maya Harris | 57 Are We Surprised........................................ Francis Sowins | 58 Genetics Ate My Homework ..................... Andrew Kjer-Lackey | 60 The Adventure in the Jungle ..................... Giovanni Smith | 62 Green............................................................ Hazel Kraft | 63 Painting Patience ........................................ Damian Williamson | 64 Untitled ....................................................... J. O. | 66 The Night Is an Owl.................................... Alex Hurkes | 67 Untitled ....................................................... Louise Wallraff | 68 Things I See................................................. Vincent Grimstad | 71

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Memories Carved Into Stone First Light, First Cast ................................ B. A. | 74 Gone ............................................................ Ruby Aligada | 76 A Little About Me ....................................... D. O. | 78 My Father, The Storyteller ........................ Skylar Schwartz | 79 Why I Love Hunting and Fishing ............. C. M. | 80 Speeding Through ...................................... Frances Roesner | 81 When I Think About My Grandmother... Kingston Davis | 82 Stephanie ..................................................... Eleanor Lee | 83 I Didn’t Think It’d Bother Me .................. Emerson Hudson | 84 250 Years Ago ............................................. River Downes | 86 The Man I See in Me .................................. Sam Levin | 87 Memories .................................................... Jude Huffman | 88 Untitled ....................................................... A. C. | 90 Why Now .................................................... Elena Yang | 91 Festivities .................................................... Henry Faschingbauer | 94 Groundhog Day........................................... Theresa Gannon | 95 If You Were Human ................................... Lucy Laufenberg | 96 Summer........................................................ S. F. | 98 Mauve .......................................................... Rosemary Rischall | 99 One After Another ...................................... Beatris Brooks | 100 Dad .............................................................. Grace Otto | 102

Our Voice Matters Two Voices .................................................. Marlene Lyon | 104 Eldest Daughter .......................................... Dakota Henderson | 105 Let Children Grow ..................................... Lacey Hudspeth | 106 Hold On ....................................................... Briah Burrows | 107 Racism Is Unfair. ........................................ S. V. | 108

Animal Poem .............................................. Gabriel Guida | 110 Always Believe in Yourself ........................ Jaden Ingram | 111 My Life Started Late ................................. Wren Watland | 114 Obstacle ....................................................... Mr. Winkels’ Class | 116 Who Am I?................................................... Angela Chen | 117 Life Is .......................................................... Charlotte Schaffer | 118 Dear Penelope's Skin Cells ........................ Penelope Turner | 120 Difficulties ................................................... Aurora Hettinger | 122 I Am OCD ................................................... Eleanor Hable | 123 Call Me Back .............................................. S. Grimes & G. Gordon’s Classes | 124 Trees ............................................................ Ben Backman | 125 Untitled ....................................................... Abdi Mahamoud | 126 Where I'm From ......................................... S. Y. | 127 The Now and Future of Us ........................ Chloe Yang | 128 Roar of a Lion ............................................. Nelson Ridore | 130 No More Dynamite, I Want Flowers......... Vanessa Gerzin & Taylor Merrell’s Class | 131 Untitled ....................................................... Nimco Farah | 132 Midnight Blue ............................................. Jiya Mulpuru | 133

I See The World As It Glows In My Community I See............................. J. M. | 136 Fear of Immigrants ................................... Y. | 138 The Night .................................................... Cece Spessard | 140 Hidden Trees ............................................... Eva Hanson | 141 That’s My Dog ............................................ Hattie Bauer | 142 Antarctica ................................................... Mr. Crosby’s Class | 143 In My World, I See War ............................ Lucas Reis | 144 x

Paws on the Ground ................................... Ms. Austin’s Class | 146 Chicken Wings ............................................ Drew Ward | 147 Being Mixed in a World Like This............ Olive Jasiczek | 148 Don’t We Live in the Same World ............ Idris Baxamusa | 150 Canoeing With Kynslee ............................. M. E. | 152 Kindness Pancake ...................................... Parla Ozutemiz | 154 If I Was a Little Blue Penguin ................... Oliver J. Lovato | 154 Untitled ....................................................... Esme Lindsley | 155 Flowers ........................................................ Cecelia Rapson | 156 In This Tiny World ..................................... Olivia Olson | 158 I Have Mother in My Toes, But Father in My Nose ...................................................................... Reese Larson | 160 What a Wonderful World .......................... Hazel Robertson | 162 Wonders of the Night ................................. A. K. | 164 Ocean Love ................................................. C. Taylor’s Class | 164 Peace is an African Baobab Tree .............. Emilio McHugh Vélez | 165 Thankfulness .............................................. Mr. Siepel’s Class | 166

Dear Writers, What a joy it is to celebrate you and the work you have created. No one else sees the world exactly as you do. You bring us your own memories, questions, hopes, humor, imagination, and dreams. You notice what others might pass by. You wonder about things others might take for granted. You imagine what could be, not only what is. When you write, you invite the rest of us into that vision. That is one of creativity’s greatest gifts. It can help us see more clearly and feel more deeply. It can make a quiet voice louder and an overlooked story visible. It can carry an idea from one imagination into another. And it can show us possibilities we might never have imagined on our own. Now your words live alongside the words of other young writers in these pages. Different voices. Different experiences. Different ways of seeing and imagining. Together, your words create something that couldn’t be created alone: a wider, richer view of the world. We are honored to share your work and delighted to celebrate what you have created. Keep noticing. Keep questioning. Keep imagining. Keep writing. We want to see the world you see. With admiration and congratulations,

Dawne Brown White Executive Director, COMPAS

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Editor’s Introduction: It has been a gift to be entrusted with the words of young writers from across Minnesota. Page after page, I have been humbled by how much these young writers notice, how deeply they understand, and how fiercely they hold onto what is beautiful and good and bright in this world. It has been a hard, dark year in our state. So many students were on the front lines. They heard the sirens blare. They looked out stainedglass windows shattered by bullets. They smelled smoke and tear gas lingering in the air. They were forced to hide in their homes instead of running across playgrounds. And over and over again they heard the worry, anger, and grief of the adults around them. This collection is a powerful reminder that our students are bearing witness. They are watching, listening, and refusing to look away. As Stella Owen writes in her poem Us Kids: “We know more than they think, and / We think more than they know.” Her words stayed with me as I edited this collection and her words ultimately became its title. The words of other young writers inspired each chapter, helping to shape the collection and guide us through what they see, what they believe, and what they hope to change in this world. In a year when there were so many reasons to turn inward, these writers kept looking outward. They did not look away from what was difficult. Instead, they looked more closely at the world around them, meeting it with tenderness, curiosity, and wonder. In these pages, young writers pay attention not only to injustice, loneliness, and heartache, but also to the joy found in friendship, family, animals, and the natural world. Their words remind us that grief and joy can exist side by side, and that even in the darkest times, there is still starlight, still birthday candles, still the glow of campfires burning bright. So let these pages be a celebration of these writers and their words, their wisdom, their courage, and their remarkable ability to find beauty and light. These kids know some things, and I have learned so much from them. I hope you do too. —Karlyn Coleman, Editor xiii

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Chapter 1:

We Know Some Things

We Know Some Things | 1

Us Kids Adults They think being grown makes them the nucleus of this cell, Holding the DNA, the instructions, To make this country well. Us kids, We float around, our ideas drifting in the sea. Never to reach solid ground. In this gene, we are the recessive alleles, Adults and their so-called dominant ideals. We, Know more than they think, and We think more than they know. At a dinner party I don’t want to be told, Over And over, You’ve gotten so old. What grade are you in? Where do you go to school? Just because I’m a kid, doesn’t mean I’m a fool. We Know more than they think, and We think more than they know. Us kids, We Don’t want to sit at the kids’ table We can’t drive a car, But we’re perfectly able to understand how this world works. We’ve seen it firsthand.

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We Are not standing still as the world gets darker As we drift back from the sea, The difference is starker. The difference between our ideas and what you actually see Our ambition is a hand grasping land And We Are finally free.

Stella Owen Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

We Know Some Things | 3

What Have We Come To? What have we come to? A young boy, Spiderman accompanies a whistle on his shirt, He heads to school, awaiting yet another lockdown drill. At the age of 5, he has learned more about which table is most out of visible range from the window, than how to count to 20. What have we come to? As he steps into class, he wonders why Tommy’s been missing from school. The teacher says he’s taking a long vacation, but the boy knows he’s not one for travel. He wonders why his mother hugged him tighter this morning. What have we come to? Parents sit tensely on a cool wooden bench, surveilling the danger that is the local park. Their kids, dubious as flies, pockets lined with candy and identification, announcing their legality. jumping rope, as the cool wind tickles their skin. What have we come to? Returning home for dinner, listening not to hopeful chatter, but to the hushed tones of their guardians, Watching the news, hoping to seek the relief, of seeing only the updates of recent sports events. Not yet, another violent act against our fearful citizens. 4 | We Know Some Things

The relief doesn’t come. It never does. And it sometimes feels like it never will. What have we come to? Our streets, a cacophony of whistles and gunshots, whispering their apologies in the ears of their victims. What can we do? Protests become precarious. Rallies become risky. Walkouts, as frequent as sports practices, yet, as overlooked as expired coupons. What have we done? Our crumbling world, a falling tower, withering from age and use. Our community, once a safety net, now, a slice of Swiss cheese full of holes. What have we done? Our children’s noses, overwhelmed by the smell of gunpowder and teargas. Their eyes well up as they witness colorful clouds, green uniforms and handcuffed civilians. What have we come to?

Price Miller Valley View Middle School, Edina | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

We Know Some Things | 5

Why Do I Read Why do I read? I read because in a book you know where people stand one side is good like a beautiful blooming ﬂower one side is bad like the roaring ﬁre that destroys everything in its path in a book you can see someone’s thoughts you know their values what they want who they are in real life though there is no right or wrong you can’t tell what people feel whether the special sparkling smile on their face is fake or real in our troubled world it’s not words on a page with images that only exist in your brain in a book you can know how they feel for each other but in our world anybody could be with another a friend or an enemy there’s no way to know 6 | We Know Some Things

you tell them your secrets shhhh then they let you go In a book sometimes a person switched sides but at least in a book you mostly know why in a book characters teach you to recognize each other you hear their thoughts feelings fears books teach us empathy kindness and strength They make us laugh and even cry while at the same time opening our eyes to new ideas places things Yet some people say why do you read so much? they’re just words on a page

(continued)

We Know Some Things | 7

well that’s why I read to escape from the rage of our world falling around us as people are caged and words become lies because in a book you know your own truth so I’ll go there instead of this world of blank faces and personalities that change in the blink of an eye

Malena Rupp Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Origami Fold, fold, make a flap, fold. Bend the paper into wondrous shapes. Calming folds making birds, dragons, flowers, or anything else. Pull out that bit, make it 3D. Your mind is directing, a paper symphony, through your hands. The crisp, clean lines make perfect shapes. The cleaner the fold, the better the edges line up. Writing out what you did, remembering how to make that one. Experiment to create. Make your own creatures. You need no instructions here. Fold, fold, make a flap, fold.

Otis Ashwood St. Paul Academy - Lower School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

We Know Some Things | 9

To the Future Kids of America To the future kids of America, I’m sorry, For the strangling, smoldering, smoke, Left from the wildfire, We call the great government of America. I’m sorry, That you can’t see a sea, As blue as the sky in your history books. BANG! I’m sorry, That you can’t feel safe, In a school where you used to be able to escape, From the parade of guns bigger than mountains, But now 100 suns, Won’t make this a bright day. I’m sorry, That you have to worry about equal pay, Even if you work all day, All night, But still have to fight, For what should be, An equal right. I’m sorry, That getting justice, Will never be a guarantee, And that the people we all see as, Monsters, Can just roam free.

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I’m sorry, For the bullying, online trolling and hate, Driving people to a state, Planted in a box, Grounded, And surrounded, By the seeds of what America could bem They just haven’t sprouted. I’m sorry, That you have to put on a suit of armor, Every morning, Like a knight, Ready to fight, For the injustices of your life, And maybe you can shed a little light, On that seed to lead America, To finally, Become the land of the free. Sincerely, The Kids of Yesterday.

Maija Kain-Malmberg Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

We Know Some Things | 11

Peace Is Super Special Peace is the sun rising and setting yet it does not leave us, for it can still see us but amazingly it does not move but it still got that big bright groove. Peace is an apple tree blowing in the breeze, but do not worry she will not freeze, because she’s strong and since that’s the case it won’t be long. Peace is a deer cub…who is lost and there can be a big bad cost, but do not worry, he is very furry, he will not freeze cause it’s just a breeze. But where’s his mom? Hopefully it won’t be long, cause when he’s strong, just like peace. Peace is the water washing down the stream, though it seems lonely, there’s a lot of lovely things to see one loud yell of FRIENDS then comes the friends, but when too loud, then comes the chicken and hens.

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Peace is 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 adding together But when too hard, it can start some weather, in your mind, but only if there’s nothing inside. But I know there’s something there, even if youreally don’t care, you still gotta try even if it’s tougher than a bear, you can still do whatever you want in the blink of an eye,. but only if you really try, even if you don’t like math you will need it to get on the path.

Kian El Sawaf Meadowbrook Elementary, Golden Valley | Grade 4 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

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Small Box I am better than all of you This morning I came to school This morning I woke up at 7:00 am This morning I was running late for the bus and I skipped breakfast Last night, last night I couldn’t hang out with my friends because I had homework Our lives have to conform into a small box Do this Do that No Yes “But please” And we still get a no “And don’t forget that poem you have to write” We all have to do more work than we feel can fit in the box But we get told to make it fit “Do you have homework?” “Clean your room” Don’t forget this Don’t forget that Do this Do that Do this I don’t want to become like the adults we pretend to look up to Is this genetic? If it’s phenotypical then why did I feel as though I could escape the expectations if I tried I don’t want to gnawing at the edges of this reinforced steel sheet with expectations engraved on the front and back What if I don’t want to go to school every day What if I don’t want all this work I am but only a man But not even a man, only a child

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A child who has been told his whole life to be quiet in class To do his work To stop talking I get calls home I get notes I get sent to the office But for what? Just so I can do extra work I could become someone who escapes the box But I have gotten too comfortable I’m no longer supportable And I fall and touch the ground of the box, but also the ceiling and walls at the same time There is no escape I look at the scrapes But as time passes the box has taken shape My DNA is set in place So maybe I’m not better than all of you Our lives have to conform into a small box Lisbet Carlson Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Dear You Dear you, You little ball of sunshine hiding behind the moon, an eclipse When you stop you are not simply a period, but an ellipse You push on, on, up, out and forward like a branching tree A spring fresh flower Your joy is like a sparkling starry night little one Radiate your light and wisdom on those who seek it because It is no secret When you laugh it’s like art, a beacon to those who see it Be not afraid to share your knowledge Of birds, of rocks, or space Of fish or bugs or a certain place The time we live in is like a race Go, Go, Go, they say But you say No, go at your own pace And come with me And we my friend Will explore.

L. N. Creative Arts Secondary School, Saint Paul | Grade 10 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: See More Perspective

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Time Do I belong? My internals are the same My skin painted by a country I was against Using weapons made to combat me Being destroyed by missiles made to protect me Do I belong? I am obsolete I am the last Tomcat Other jets are restored, not me I was the most feared interceptor in the world The most loved one too I was the best, the fastest, the most flexible Do I belong? Am I still an American fighter? I mean, I’m the same jet Aren’t I? Do I deserve to even be airborne anymore? Betraying the country I once served for Against my will, I guess Do I belong? My engines have long been quiet Waiting for a fight I have no chance in Soon I’ll be a pile of scrap Twisted metal and black smoke I do belong.

Zach Walz Tri-County Secondary School, Karlstad | Grade 10 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

We Know Some Things | 17

Kids In my society I see kids who are struggling. I see teenagers with scars, whose bodies are starved. I see adults who believe it’s harmful to explain mental health to kids. Adults who believe kids can’t think these things, or feel these emotions. A kid’s weight is brought up, a conversation shot down by adults who find it inappropriate to mention around kids who wonder if it’d be better if they weren’t around. In my society I see kids who are afraid of their identity because of adults whose beliefs were passed down like their genetic traits, whose transphobia, homophobia were passed down like eye color, like skin tone. Adults who haven’t questioned nor have needed to question these harmful beliefs I see kids who can beg for help. Adults who say you’re too young to understand this, to understand yourselves. Adults who say we can’t understand emotions, but listen to how that sounds because emotion is all we have. We can’t drive, can’t stay out late, can’t vote, but we can feel I see adults teach their kids to hate. Teaching kids to obsess over their weight, I see adults try to continue passing these beliefs like DNA So I see kids harassing kids because of adult negligence nearly everyday while some adults defend the bullies,

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saying they can’t know and acting like it means nothing. Even though to a kid who quote on quote can’t think for themself yet It may mean everything Even though it may mean everything to a kid who is struggling Hazel Rae Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency & Showcase Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali See this artist in performance‌.

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Canoeing With Heaton Learning about the canoeing route that starts in my little town of Roseau, Minnesota, and ends in the great Hudson Bay, amazed me. At first, I thought it was impossible. I mean who would have the courage to canoe 1,500 miles of freezing cold, rapid water across unknown territory? My brother Heaton would. I have always looked up to my brother. Even though I have never told him that, I think he knows. Asking Heaton to come with me was a bit of an unexpected challenge. When I presented the idea, he asked why I picked him and not one of my friends. I explained to him that because the journey would be long and challenging, I would feel more comfortable with him. Finally, after a bit of persuading, he said yes. So we started packing lots of food, rain gear, extra clothes, satellite phones, a camera, a rifle and other essentials were thoughtfully planned out. The day we pushed off from the shore of the banks of the Roseau River, it was a warm, partly cloudy day. The water was cold and murky. The current slowly pushed us up the river as we started our journey north. After a few nights, we reached the Red River where the water was still muddy and cold. Suddenly, we felt the current start to speed up. Heaton asked, “Do you feel that?” and I replied, “Yeah, it looks like we are about to go into rapids.” The rapids looked so big. Once we got into them, the canoe felt like it was going to tip over. If that happened, our trek would surely be over. We were getting slammed with waves, over and over our canoe was getting hit. Then, somehow, we ended up backwards facing the wrong direction. It felt like the canoe was going to break into pieces. But our canoe, named Turkey, prevailed. We felt traumatized but were also laughing at how we were still alive. Entering Lake Winnipeg was weird; seeing open water was a relief. Traveling across the lake, we encountered an old fisherman who resembled my grandpa. White beard, happy face and a big talker. We asked him if he knew the way to the Hayes River. there.”

He said, “Ya. Just keep heading north and you’ll eventually get

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He also told us a story about how he caught a 32-inch walleye in the spot where we were floating. He seemed to never stop talking, always having more to say. He was really interested in our journey and said that he would do it if he had the time. I didn’t believe him. Eventually we said our goodbyes and headed off in the direction he told us. A few days later, halfway up the Hayes, we saw a black bear. I reached for the rifle but Heaton stopped me saying, “We don’t have to shoot it!” I asked, “Why not?” Heaton replied, “It’s not attacking us so there is no need.” After that encounter, I started eating the trail mix, eating most of it except the raisins. Piggy.”

Heaton yelled at me and said, “Stop eating all the good stuff, I replied, “NO!” in an annoying tone.

So he ripped the bag out of my hand. I grabbed it back and eventually we were playing tug of war with the bag of trail mix. After a while, I let go after getting tired out from pulling, and I said, “Fine, you can have it. I am not hungry anymore.” After a couple of days of tirelessly paddling, the river started to get wider and wider. Then the air started to smell salty and the wind was getting colder. Finally, we saw it–the Hudson Bay. The sight was beautiful. It was such a relief knowing that it was over. Heaton was happy too, smiling ear to ear and admiring the vast water. We spent an hour viewing the York Factory, then we caught a bush plane to a town a couple miles from the factory. From there, we rode a train to Winnipeg, and then our dad drove us back to Roseau. What I took away from this experience is a new appreciation for nature and experiencing new adventures with my brother. M. J. Roseau Secondary, Roseau | Grade 8 Memoir Writing and Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Jon Lurie We Know Some Things | 21

Gratitude Gratitude! Gratitude! Appreciation across the nation, from me to you! You can’t lie it, you can’t buy it, you can’t sell it for a dime But it feels good every time Gratitude Gratitude! Gratitude! Gratitude! It feels good like gratitude should, from me to you! You can’t fake it, you can’t take it, you can’t bake it a bowl But it feels good everywhere you go Gratitude Gratitude! I’m grateful for the bees, and the stars in the sky I’m grateful for the dragonflies… Gratitude! Gratitude! I’m so grateful, and so thankful for your attitude! You can save it, you can return it, you can keep it in your heart When it comes to gratitude, you can do your part Gratitude, Gratitude! Gratitude! Gratitude! It’s real nice, it adds some spice, from me to you You can get it, you can gift it, you can give it your all And it comes back like a bouncing ball Gratitude Gratitude! Mrs. Gupton’s Class Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School, Le Sueur | Grade 3 Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

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Under the Lone Tree Try to run a mile in my shoes and you’ll see, just how prevalent my struggles really can be. On sunny days when the grass is green, i sit, trapped, under a lone tree. For i have hands that cannot catch, feet that cannot kick, legs that cannot run, and arms that cannot pitch. i was made this way, it’s in my blood, my DNA, like if on every nanoangstrom in my body “shut-in” is engraved. when the grass is green, i sit, trapped under a lone tree. Like a stitchbird, born with weak wings, looking up at the others, soaring. they say “go fly with them” i would if i could but if i try to fly i will fall down down down, and land hard. When the grass is green, i sit, trapped, under the lone tree. When they throw the ball i don’t catch, i cower in fear that the ball will hit me and i will fall down down down, and land hard. They say to put my mind to it, but its not about my mind it’s about my body, and a body was not in my code. As i try to climb the lone tree, i try to reach a branch, but i fall down down down, and land. hard. Jack(ie) Rosbolt Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Untitled If you were to walk in my shoes would you be able to walk a step before walking down a dead end. If you were to walk in my shoes would you be able to handle the heat once before my heart skips a beat. If you were in my shoes would you be able to control a thought once told not to talk. My friends ask what’s up with the face, why in a mood? How am I supposed to tell them the pain I carry through everyday while the walls are closing in on my throat and there’s a slit of pain down my throat that can’t be held or controlled. My friends say they understand me but they really don’t, They pretend they do to make themselves feel better about the things they don’t know. My mom once said that not everyone you talk to or belong to is your friend. And sometimes in life you’ll lose people but I guess we’ll just need to forget the memories we made that we live with in regret. I hate how people use me, I’m not a toy so don’t abuse me You know my name not my story, You’ve heard the things I’ve done, not the words placed in my head that echo in levels that can’t be settled. And one day you’ll wish you did me different since you seem to forget, Your words mean nothing to me, As your actions tell the truth l see.

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It seems to me that you’re confused cause within a minute you’ll be down a fuse. A fuse of regret that you don’t seem to forget, huh interesting what about the rest.

G. Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Fall Patterns The letters A, C, G & T Make up DNA Just like the colors Red, Yellow, Orange &Brown make up fall. The leaves twirling down Down And down To the floor, Until they’re all gone. They say the leaves are dying But really, They’re just following the rules. Deep inside every cell There’s a code A tiny manual That tells the summer to disappear and the fall to appear. I feel that same manual inside me, Full of genes like ink on a page. Some are dominant, shouting my height and the curve of my smile, While others are recessive, quietly waiting in the shadows of my blood. They are the rules I didn’t write, Just like the trees I don’t choose how I’ll grow But I choose how I stand in the wind We are all made of family patterns Weathering the seasons with instructions Hidden in our blood I look at the trees And then at me And I realize

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I’m just apart of a long family line The leaves will fall and the seasons will change But the ink inside my blood never fades The code doesn’t stop It´s just choosing what’s next.

Ahlam Mohamed Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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(Anxiety) It’s the thing that weighs you down, You feel like you’re gonna drown. It’s what makes you feel cold, And you have nothing left to hold…on to.

It’s what makes you constantly fear, What makes you overthink. It’s what sometimes makes you disappear, And it’s what makes you wanna shrink. Suddenly all you feel is panic. Nothing is ever clear, You try to reach out for someone, But nothing appears. You’re stuck. Stuck in your mind that is now running wild. All of your worst thoughts now in a pile, And now you just feel like a lost lonely child. Your heart feels like it might burst. That if you don’t work fast, It’s only going to get worse, And that you really might be cursed. This is what makes you not trust your gut. That if you’re not carful, You’re going to get cut. You think that it’s your fault. That you are the problem, Because now you have fallen, All the way to the bottom.

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It’s what makes you lie awake at night. Wondering if you’re ever going to see a light. Wondering if you should fight, For what you think is right. But you hesitate. Because of that little thing in your head. The thing that makes you fear what’s up ahead. It’s the thing that tells you, You’re not good enough for society. And that thing in your head, Is anxiety.

Rhianna Levy East Ridge High School, Woodbury | Grade 11 Spoken Word Showcase See this artist in performance‌.

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Love Is Beauty Love is beauty and so are you You are You and nobody can change that dude So Be brave be strong You are loved and so is everyone else around you I get bullied and so do you So be kind to others all around you My attitude and gratitude are two different things Just like you and me are a couple of tweens Math is boring Recess is fun The bus is loud The engine comes against the street While strangers sit on plastic seats Fumes in heavy air A wilder world is breathing there The meadows wake the light to chase away The gold of night while Roses open softly The Love you hold so deep inside A natural Grace a radiant view Where good will come to You

Walter Reisdorf Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Peace Is Peace is the forest standing tall Peace is the moon, hiding from sight Peace is the sun waiting with its light Peace is the wind playing in the air Peace is the sky always there Peace is a wall keeping us together Peace is the air as light as a feather Peace is a lion calm but ferocious Peace is a home full of love Peace is a morning dove Peace is the light that guides your way Peace is the hope of a new day

June Beier Meadowbrook Elementary, Golden Valley | Grade 4 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

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Suicide Did you know lots of kids think about ending their lives everyday? Over 988 suicides and crisis lifelines have happened, and it’s not just kids, it’s adults too. There’s a quiet weight some people carry, not like thunder, but steady like snow falling all night, until the world feels too heavy to move through. It lives in pauses between breaths. In the way light comes through the window, but doesn’t quite reach inside. Some days it whispers: you are too much or worse, not enough at all in the mind. Tired of arguing, it sits down beside the thought, as if it were a companion, but even then, somewhere small almost hidden, causing depressing and suicidal thoughts, But there’s a flicker that doesn’t agree. A stubborn thing it sounds like: stay. Not loudly, not convincingly, but persistently like a pulse. Like a hand not letting go. Maybe that’s where it begins, not with hope, as a blazing fire, but as something quieter. A breath taken again. A moment endured. A decision, barely noticeable remains. A mother shared that her 10-year old son died by suicide, after being bullied and called racial slurs. 32 | We Know Some Things

There’s more stories. Like this. A lot of rude comments can cause suicidal thoughts, like commenting on peoples personal problems, and it makes people feel like a burden, to others, which they’re not. So lets focus on things that we say, that might affect others. There’s a quiet weight we all carry... of other people

Z. W. Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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The Performance of Imperfection Think of something that makes you Um Wait what’s the word Sorry I forgot Nervous One of the crucial parts of performance Without it, are you really performing? Is a bee really working? Stopping, stuttering, shaking, sputtering When we’re nervous Ahh yes, nervous The word surfaced Imagine something that makes you nervous I know I got mine Wait, is that how it’s supposed to go Am I supposed to rhyme? Perfection Perfection is a deception Is it really there, like the stuff you find in your hair But it must be there! If it is not, then why can’t I breathe If I don’t achieve Hyperventilation starts like a roaring engine inside of me Breathing We all can When I get anxious it stops Like a car trying to go through a yellow light The car whines when it doesn’t make it in time My lungs drop 34 | We Know Some Things

I need a break, I say in my head I’ll just get out Give up, should I? I can’t, I need to Just Stop Breathe knowing it’s okay not to always reach the top Nervous crucial to performance Perfection a deception Breathing a simple task So why can’t I just get up on the block Start the race, feel the pace, make the beat, hit the note The performance of Imperfection the little things around that make the difference The smell of sweat and chlorine drifting through the air The feeling of cold water and wooden sticks in my care The sight of the crowd The sound of no noise before it all gets loud Just do these three sections Get nervous Be imperfect And breathe knowing everything happens on purpose It’s The Performance of Imperfection

Emery Phillips Valley View Middle School, Edina | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

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My Generation Can Change…Right? My generation can change…right? They sit in big buildings with clean suits, Living safe. Feeling comfortable. Making decisions about lives they don’t have to live. They don’t see us, Not really. They don’t hear the fear in our houses, The stress in our parents’ voices, The way we learn how to worry, Before we can learn how to dream. Fear lives in our houses, We hear it in every sigh. In every shaky step we take. In every sentence, we don’t say They talk about us like we’re numbers, like we’re statistics, like we’re unimportant But we’re not numbers, we’re families Kids, futures they keep pulling apart. Michael Jackson once said ¨They don’t really care about us.” This hits harder now because we’re all living in it. My generation can change…right I think we can, Because with all our voices standing together as one, Speaking back on things happening in this world. My generation can change…right Because if we can’t Then who is left to care? Le-ticia Greaves Brooklyn Middle STEAM School, Brooklyn Park | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali 36 | We Know Some Things

Art Art is beautiful, it is creativity, it is glory, it is personality, but most of all art is life And life has many colors and shades Have you ever experienced colors that make you feel more than color? And life and words fill your mind with colorful shapes and beauty? Well I have and it makes you feel something indescribably beautiful It fills your mind with ideas and emotions And then the color fills your mind as if it was a blank canvas I remember when I was younger I used art as a way to express myself Until I made friends and then we shared our art as a way to speak with each other without even having to use words And that feeling felt so good And every time I make art I revisit that amazing feeling And it makes me feel so happy every time I think about it I want to never give up and I want the same for everyone around me I wish that everyone could experience this amazing feeling that art gives me but in their own way. Zia Troutman St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Chapter 2:

When I Open My Eyes

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When I open my eyes… When I open my eyes… Why are we only seeing the things that stand out? For me, I believe that you can find beautiful things in life if we pay close attention to even the little things. When I open my eyes… I see the time I found a bright blue flower in my childhood backyard. To me, it wasn’t like any other flower. It was a memory. A memory that kept my heart warm during the cold dark winter. A memory that made me wanna jump up to the moon. When I open my eyes… I realize that all those times I stayed silent, I could’ve made so many connections. I could’ve felt so understood. I could’ve felt like my other half wasn’t missing. When I open my eyes… I find an old photo of me jumping on a trampoline with a big bright smile on my face. I was happy. Looking at that photo made me feel like a warm cozy blanket was wrapped around me.

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When I open my eyes… I look outside. I hear the birds chirping and saw the sun shining. I pause to breathe in the spring air. I felt like time stopped, I felt less heavy. When I open my eyes… I realize it’s important to acknowledge everything around you. The good and the bad. The exciting and the sad. It’s important to see all the beautiful things around you. And that’s what happens when you finally open your eyes. Martina Gomez Arango St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali Dedicated to: Everyone who feels lost in their own life.

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The Deep Sea The waves push me away, preventing swimming, and the cold darkness swallows my body whole. The icy plunge seeping into my clothing. I don’t give up, however, keeping my hope. A knot of doom looms, slowly growing. The peace in my mind, swelling my soul. The tides retreat, leaving me upon the land. I awake with my body submerged in sand.

Ellie Halverson Red Lake County Central High School, Oklee | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

Vikings It starts with our ball When it gets to fourth down we know it’s a turnover. When it’s a turnover, I cry When they yell “hut” and it’s a touchdown, I get mad. When we get the ball, I start to cheer. Touchdown! Everyone is cheering. We get the field goal. Yes! I shout. It’s the other team’s ball It is the 4th and a turnover It’s our ball and it’s fourth down I’m very scared Touchdown! Vikings win But then I wake up It is all a dream Harper Braun Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School, Le Sueur | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali 42 | When I Open My Eyes

Peace—I Am a Bird Pushing the Wind I am the red wolf howling at the moon. I am the tree standing til the end. I am a pup waiting to see the world. I am a bird pushing the wind. I am tree roots growing stronger.

M. B. Meadowbrook Elementary, Golden Valley | Grade 4 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

The Night Is Awakening The moon rises, like an opening eye, and the wolves howl, like the night is yawning to wake up. The wind blows, like a summer breeze. Animals hunt for their breakfast. The night is awakening.

Louisa Winscher Gleason Lake Elementary, Plymouth | Grade 2 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman When I Open My Eyes | 43

Adjectives So as I sit in my room, locked away as most teenagers might, I think about the things that keep me up at night. What if I told you that adjectives, something we use day to day, just a small describing word, could take someone’s life away? You’d call me “crazy,” but there it lies. If used over and over again, someone could die So as I sit in my room, locked away as most teenagers might, I think about the things that keep me up at night. A picture online, nothing more, But venomous, hate ﬁlled adjectives walk into an open door: “Fat” “Ugly” ”Stupid” “Fat” “Ugly” “Stupid” Don’t you see what you’re doing? Those adjectives add to an internal storm, that’s already brewing.

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So as I sit in my room, locked away as most teenagers might, I think about the things that keep me up at night. Sometimes, It’s a man twice your age, or a girl in your class but man, those adjectives are a pain in my side. Aubreigh Wyatt McKenna Brown Aidel Boyd They were my age at most, ﬂames drowned in hatred, until they self extinguished themselves. It makes me want to vomit. The bile rises as I read their stories. Mothers have eternal love, Fathers protect But what about the mothers, who felt as though they didn’t love ENOUGH. What about the fathers who thought they didn’t PROTECT their babies ENOUGH. (continued)

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But what about the mothers and fathers who have to visit a GRAVE, where their CHILD is six feet underground, eyes closed, mouth shut, heart stopped, Even though their soul is as free as a butterﬂy in the wind. So as I sit in my room, locked away as most teenagers might, I think about the burning question that keeps me up at night: Why did you use adjectives…?

Piper Coleman Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Untitled Look around you What do you see? People, right? No matter the language, color of of their skin, or shape of their body they all have a little world inside of them With rivers of hope, joy, creativity and so much more all striding To go to the same place the ocean Where the heart flows and goes back again in cycles, but sometimes The rivers get blocked by pollution such as Sadness, shame, anxiety, anger, and other things that make you feel smaller and a less than next to others And sometimes, You need a safe space to be cradled in its warmth of mere memories It could be something as small as a handheld object or as big as a house And when you are in that safe space, you may feel Like a butterfly ready to spread its thin as paper wings and flap Flap to glide over a meadow as if it went on forever The grass sprouting greens of all kinds But you may not And that’s ok Because we are all different.

Adela Schmidt St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali When I Open My Eyes | 47

Uncomfortable Don’t make the world uncomfortable. Two children sit in school counting down the minutes until a final bell. 7 or 15, it makes no difference how the eyes behind a red, white, blue, flag see them. One child will pick up a gun as the other flips the pages of The Color Purple. Eyes scream BANNED, but not the weapon that stops your heart, rather a book that says, fuck you more than it says, yes, husband. Because a four letter word hurts a child far more than a bullet ever could. Because if we are not quiet, we are a problem, yet in three years I will be thrust into a society that happens to say more than a four letter word. Stay awake, stay aware. If you see something, say something, yet my 7th grade teacher had to turn off a documentary because they said, R A P E. We don’t want you to be uncomfortable. But when my middle school theatre director marched around a full girl’s locker room, We were pretty uncomfortable. We, the ones barely dressed, yet our principal told us to say nothing. Because, God forbid, a suburban school speaks bad of a man. And when I refused to hand that man flowers during intermission, I became the selfish one. Just keep quiet. Don’t start anything. You know you’re bound to take the blame. 48 | When I Open My Eyes

You know you’ll look around your fellow 8th grade students as boys throw off their shirts and you’re dress coded once again for your scandalous shoulder. You know, just follow the rules, no one will bother you. Don’t bend over. Don’t smile. Never show your stomach. Keep your figure hidden! Our world gives fake grins and tells girls to love themselves, yet every time one of us does, our collective confidence and security diminishes even further. Now, I have learned to hide The Color Purple. Now, I hide my shoulders. Tomorrow, I’m bound to hide another piece of myself, until I become the very model, society will just love to torment.

E. W. Washburn High School, Minneapolis | Grade 10 Spoken Word Showcase

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Dear Father Dear Father, I have seen it all. The past. The present. The future. Would you like to hear? When I am dead in a ditch, you’ll tell me you love me. You’ll write it in a note, one you can not hand deliver, give it to a man who will grieve me more than you. When I am still here, you’ll tell me you don’t love me. After all, you can not love something you did not create, because you made a daughter, but I am your son. When I am at my funeral, you’ll tell me I was perfect. You’ll list every achievement I made. When I am graduating, you’ll sit rotting on a couch head in a bottle. You’ll sit idly by, as my life passes you by. When I am giving my last breath, you’ll say every word, I have clawed towards, hoping to hear from your lips.

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When I am writing you a letter, you will not respond. You’ll be the first and last person to ghost me. When I am a ghost, you’ll tell me tales, ones of a son who looks like me, and a father who sounds like you. When I am sitting next to you, you’ll stay silent. You will not dare to look me in the eyes, for I have become something you fear. When I die, You better miss me. You’ll beg for forgiveness that will never come. You’ll cry tears that mean nothing. You’ll grieve a son you always had, and a daughter that never existed. When I die, I will not miss you after all, I’ve already grieved you. Dear Father, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. That day I was cut in two, and half of me walked away with you. Please return my other half soon, not as a bargain but as a gift, something to hold on to in another life.

(continued)

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Dear Father, While your at it could you look for the old you, my real father. The one who raised me. Because you are not true. He didn’t have sunken eyes and a heart like a bottle. In my memories, he smiles and looks nothing like you. When you find him, bring him back. Only two years and a lifetime gone, but my heart was stolen by him. Send him back with my other half, and the love for his son that you doubt. Send him back with only memories of addiction. Please, bring my father back. Yours truly, Your son

52 | When I Open My Eyes

Knox Frederickson Avalon School, Saint Paul | Grade 11 Spoken Word Showcase See this artist in performance‌.

Different Talents I’m good at something, it’s easy for me You’re good at something, it’s easy to see We got it today, we got it in every way We got talent, different talents I’m fast at hockey, I can sing a song I can catch a football, I can throw it long I can run the bases, my cake makes happy faces We got talent! Different talents! I can do a double backflip, I can paint animals Dogs and cats and dolphins and other mammals I’m good at art, I can cut paper apart We got talent, different talents! (Cho) On the field at soccer, I like to kick! I love spelling, it’s really sick! Diving and swimming, it’s great winning We got talent, different talents! On the court with a basketball, I can shoot it high I’m amazing at piano, my notes reach to the sky When I wash dishes, they look like your dream wishes We got talent, different talents! We got talent, different talents! Mr. Siepel’s Class Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School, Le Sueur | Grade 3 Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

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Would You Come Home I can build your heart a home And if I did would you come home? I was raised to be a soldier So I’ve worn this armor I have fought and flown I can call life a battle Break my walls down stone by stone I can build your heart a home If I did would you come home? I just tried to keep you safe Even though I could not stay You never looked away Now I can’t look away Would you meet me in the middle? Could we both stop keeping score? Life’s a battle I must fight alone Is it you I’m fighting for?

Gilma Winanz Fridley Middle School, Fridley | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Today I Am a Firefly Today I am a firefly. I shine bright for those around me. I flutter around in the air. I make bugs happy by doing amazing tricks with my light. I guide ants in the dark to their home. Today I am a firefly.

Roman Krzmarzick Gleason Lake Elementary, Plymouth | Grade 2 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

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Space Is the Place Space is the place way out there Space is the place way out there Space is the place way out there Space is the place way out there Gravity pulls on us all Everything big and small Keeps the planets from floating away So we can see them everyday Planets orbit the sun That keeps us warm everyone Heat and light shine so bright And grows your garden by the ton Black holes are hungry for stars Light, dust, and gasses near and far Comets glow in the dark With a hot long tail of sparks Rockets blast into space Lots of adventure in that place It’s not a mystery Science tells a story you can see.

Mr. Terrones’ Class St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade K Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

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She Is Dominant She is like a dominant allele And I am recessive When we’re together She cancels me out It makes me feel bad about myself And I ask myself What did I do wrong I ask her this sometimes She will stare down Blankly And answer, “No” when we were young We were like a Homozygus pair At the same level So unaware So unaware Of what the future would bring It brings me to tears When I look back Tears Are the blood of the eyes When the mind feels pain She is like a nucleus Holding information inside I want to know I need to know Is it me Or her pride

Maya Harris Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Are We Surprised When I wake up I dread school Sometimes I dread life Some people just call me lazy not trying faking it I’m just trying to: exist But why do I feel so STOMP I try to talk to my parents but they all: don’t get it I try to talk to my friends All: they don’t get it I try to talk to my counselor THEY JUST DON’T GET IT They don’t get how I Feel My friends try and comfort me but it all feels fake I’m tired Tired all of it Tired of My school My family My friends The fake smiles All: The people who just don’t get it But mostly I’m tired of my life oh, but you have so much to live for you should be happy, you have such a great life this is all you ever talk about why can’t you be happy, just for once you and your “depression” they just don’t get it 58 | When I Open My Eyes

They don’t get how I feel They don’t get how I don’t get what I need They don’t get how I live They don’t get me When people say things Yell things Do things Are we surprised at the statistics? I’m just disciplining them By beating them? I’m showing them they’re making the wrong choice By being themselves? I’m trying to protect them By getting rid of what they love? Is this really protection? Are we doing this because we love them? When children are attempting Are we really protecting them? When we isolate them Are we surprised when they think about attempting When we abuse them Are we surprised when they start making a plan When we neglect them Are we surprised when they actually follow through But we never saw the signs You didn’t see the signs because you Ignored them dismissed them The real reason why you didn’t see the signs You didn’t want to see them

Francis Sowins Justice Page Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Showcase See this artist in performance‌.

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Genetics Ate My Homework I wake up from a nightmare about the horrors of science class I run out the door and head for the shop. I see a bus wizz it makes my heart hop I look down at my watch It’s a hair past the freckle Oh wait, I don’t have a fancy time telling mesheckle *freckle *freckle? I look down at my wrist, With no more reliance Suddenly, I get a flashback to science “A Genotype is your genetic code.” Well that hurt my small noggin, but no time to gripe. Could me and my family share a ph-ph-phenotype? As I go on, I bump into this guy He falls over and I look him straight in the eye Hey? It’s my very hairy homeless friend Larry I say, “Sorry.” and he says, “Get away, I’ve got a terrible case of the rimples today.” As he says this, I notice- his dimples

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like the hole of a doughnut on each side of his face But I have only seen them —--> on about half of our race That genotype phenotype junk I learned must be true Because mama, papa, Larry Have dimples too But I didn’t get much time to ponder because Larry said, “Skedaddle! Go saunter!” I ran and I ran but before I could stop I ran right into the doughnut shop I stumble in but before I could ask The doughnut dude hadn’t set them out to bask He said, “If they don’t bask they are nothing but dough.” The last words that came from my mouth was, “I know.” I left that building in no sort of rush And that’s how I missed the school bus

Andrew Kjer-Lackey Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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The Adventure in the Jungle It was a warm, sunny, windy day in the rain forest. All the animals played happily with each other. The leaves in the trees rustled and the sound of animals and birds was beautiful to Jack’s ears. Jack was 12 years old with shaggy blond hair. He was looking for a home for when he was older. He spotted an apple on the ground and he took a bite of the sweet juicy fruit. All of a sudden everything went quiet. Even the trees seemed to stop rustling. Jack looked up and there in front of him stood a creature with black fur and yellow eyes that seemed to look straight through Jack’s soul! He couldn’t believe it. He had just seen a dragon panther. The rarest animal in the world! What made it special was the two horns that seemed to grow from its ears. He seemed the leader of this rain forest. Then it started growling and something terrifying happened! All of the animals in the forest started attacking Jack! All of the bees, birds, deers, crocodiles, tigers, monkeys, even the bugs started attacking Jack! The bees pierced through Jack’s skin. He tried to dodge all of them, but there were too many animals. Jack kept getting injured until he couldn’t take it anymore. “STOP!” yelled Jack, and to his surprise everything stopped. The dragon panther tilted its head at Jack. “I am not an enemy,” Jack said. “I can help you.” The dragon panther snorted and all of the animals went back to their daily lives. Jack was stunned, he had just talked to animals and they had understood him. Suddenly more animals came crashing into the forest. All the original animals started panicking. The dragon panther roared and an animal war began. Jack had the urge to help but he didn’t know how. Then he remembered the knife he had brought for protection. Jack and the animals battled for a long time, but finally the other army retreated. Jack was happy for two reasons: one his group had won, and two, he had found a place to live! Eight years later, he built a house and lived with his animal buddies and lived what he thought was the best life ever! THE END

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Giovanni Smith Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 4 Storytelling Residency Teaching Artist: Katie Knutson

Green Green looks like fresh grass after it rains. Green feels like smooth thin leaves on a tree when I climb up. Green smells like green apple pie just when it comes out of the oven. Green tastes like yummy buttery broccoli. Green sounds like my mom slicing apples. Green.

Hazel Kraft Gleason Lake Elementary, Plymouth | Grade 2 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

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Painting Patience Lots of people have siblings. Little ones that ask them to play or run around on a candy rush. Or brooding teenagers who prefer their own room over the outdoors. I don’t have any siblings. Sure, someone to hang out with or judge my art would be nice. But the quiet is also appreciative. I can be in my room by myself and pick up some brushes, Grab some paint, And gaze upon the canvas before me and paint. Paint. Painting is nice, Calming, And a distraction from my anxiety. I mix some blue and grey together to create the color of my eyes, And I start thinking of my parents, I share neither of their eye colors. My mother has dark brown eyes, Like coffee on a Sunday morning. My dad has hazel eyes, Like acorns falling off an acorn tree. Then my eyes are a mix of blue and gray, Like a thunderstorm over the lake. Then I realize, I don’t share many traits with my parents. It probably has to do with genes and what we’re learning in science, About the dominant and recessive allelesto the chromosomes.

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Paint. It’s calming. It restarts your brain and helps you refrain from the anxiety that keeps you up at night. Patience. You need patience in order to paint or else you will be stuck with a bunch of work in progresses and you get stressed to get it done and the creativity inside you is pulling you towards a new idea! Paint. With patience. Damian Williamson Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Untitled Darkness my old friend Knocking at my door again Begging me to come outside Darkness i see you Are you good or bad Darkness my old friend Waiting in the dark calling my name from the dark Knocking at my door again Should i lock the door and keep it shut Darkness my friend Begging me to come outside

J. O. Red Lake County Central High School, Oklee | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

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The Night Is an Owl The night is an owl. The moon is the owl’s shiny eyes. The stars are its glittering wings. When the owl hoots it sounds like a song. While it swishes through the wind it sounds like the air is whistling. Its eyes are the color of gold.

Alex Hurkes Gleason Lake Elementary, Plymouth | Grade 2 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

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Untitled Ding Swish Ping! Notifications pile up, Form a leaning tower of bad news Did you know we’re going to war? Did you know some voices won’t be heard anymore? Did you know Mother Nature’s tears (drip drop) won’t stop falling from the sky? Did you know— If only I could fly through the air like a bird that just learned to soar I could create ripples through water like a playful boy’s fingertips That slice through walls so small seeds in the soil sprout into sunflowers …But the system says I shouldn’t I cannot. Ding swoooosh briiing! New notifications Social Media Shines from my screen Blue lights bright like salvation Texts Tiktok A trap … Distractions Cheap laughs Worth more than a friends hand Worth more than a mothers love Outrage: Worth more than a cool head a calculated tongue Swipe Swipe Swipe 68 | When I Open My Eyes

Disassociation Worth more than Consciousness: The one thing we know is truth is our minds, so why do I escape from mine? Because when my thoughts become a thunderstorm One tap, one click, one like Pullsme into a world of Numb Fake Happy, Fake Sad, Fake Mad, Real Lies Slash Boom Crash A tyrant in a tower at the top of our sorry world (continue) A puppeteer pulling our strings like we are nothing but play things, Money masking the soulless corpses Relying on their rotten hands to Keep Us Weak We are like chess pieces pushed around Conditioned to hate each other But there is no chess board, And there is no black and white Just murky gray, Yellow sun rays shining through the dirty window Already long forgotten The only minority harming our world is the rich: the top 1% Billionaires with enough cash To break the borders, smash the walls, that instead they are creating Keeping us overwhelmed down below Poor and starving Numbing us with news Keeping our eyes glued to Phones (continued)

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*Deep inhale* *Exhale* *Inhale* Break free Breathe free No more numb Notice the beautiful brushstrokes Smeared and smudged in every corner of the earth The giggly, bubbly feeling of crushing Followed by the inevitable despair The exciting feeling of rushing to a friends house, tasting summertime in the air Melancholy music pounding in tune to the thunder in the sky Blue lightning flashes as I sit and wonder why? Why have these layers of fog surrounded us? Are they currently drowning us? Will evil hands always prevent us from feeling the rush of heartbreak friendship handshake protest earthquake entire body shakes as you cry into the arms of a stranger… Courage intake as you step on stage and perform a messy, imperfect, waterfall of a poem. Resist: by living. Giving your light to those around you Until it surrounds you— Humanity Have Humanity Be Humanity no more numb Louise Wallraff Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Things I See I am a bird chirping in the air I am an eagle swooping to the ground I am a purple duck sitting on the soft grass I am flowers weaving in the air I am a tree standing tall I am grass swaying softly

Vincent Grimstad Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 3 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

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Chapter 3:

Memories Carved Into Stone

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First Light, First Cast The lake doesn’t rush. It doesn’t care about the clock or the way my mind keeps trying to be somewhere else. It just waits. I stand at the edge of the dock, rod in hand, line slack like a question I haven’t figured out how to ask. I Cast out. The line arcs through the sky, lands with a soft splash With water splashing outward. And then nothing. Ripples spread outward, widening circles like time itself even the quiet moments matter. I wait and it feels different out here. My thoughts stop thinking, like clouds with nowhere to be. I think about the first time fishing, how the rod felt right, how the fish seemed mythical too clever to catch. And the ones that got away, always bigger in memory.

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A tug. Small. Like the lake tapping my rod tip “you still here?” I pull just enough to feel life on the other end. For a moment, we’re hooked Then gone. And I laugh. Because losing it feels just as important as catching it. So I cast again not for the fish, but for the memories patience and time. The sun dips low, turning everything gold. And still, the lake waits. And now so do I…

B. A. Roseau Secondary, Roseau | Grade 9 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Gone Smile as I walk through the same doors Walk down the same hallway enter the same kitchen In my grandparent’s house everything is comfortable familiar the beds, blankets, board games, blue bunny ice cream it’s all the same as it’s always been While the rest of the world changed and shifted messy as a landslide this house felt like home simple and safe each visit like an exhale breathing out stress But the landslide has arrived my grandpa is gone not “gone on his tractor in the ﬁeld” not “gone working in his oﬃce” not “gone hunting with his brother” not “gone but back for dinner” gone, back never I inhale grief and exhale tears each glance around the house feels like boulders of change surrounding me trapping me 76 | Memories Carved Into Stone

It hadn’t felt real until I see one less plate, one less glass one less chair, his missing laugh one less hello, good morning Goodbye the goodbye I wished I could say would never measure up would never be enough for my grandpa who taught me to ﬂy a kite to ride a bike who gave me cookies and Christmas cards One goodbye could never, ever be enough to cover 76 years of life There is just a mix of happy memories and the avalanche of grief arriving out of nowhere when my birthday rolls around and I see simply grandma signing my birthday card

Ruby Aligada Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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A Little About Me Coming from where I’m from I call Roseau home where the fields stretch as far as I can see, ( has yellow too) where the air smells fresh and clean, Roseau feels just right for me. I love winter woods, where the tall trees stand tall and high, with my boots on at the morning sunrise, and off as the sky turns dark and cold. Hunting in the early dawn, brings waiting, still and calm, In these woods I like to sit, The trees are whispering like a new hit. Fishing at my cabin The Northwest Angle not so far away, Here, the lake reflects like a mirror at the start and end of every day. My dogs run close beside me, through the tall grass and shallow mud puddles, they bark and play chase all day, My best friends are only feet away. At night I look up to the sky, speckled with stars and sometimes northern lights, God is so grand in his plan, He surrounds me with peace, I can feel His love. I’m just a boy from Roseau who loves this life, This is my place, my family and my faith, I can’t help but have a smile on my face, living in this amazing place. D. O. Roseau Secondary, Roseau | Grade 9 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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My Father, The Storyteller Early December doesn’t snow enough, And the dry wind brings in news “Laid off on Christmas Day” It didn’t happen that way, but he tells it so much it becomes truth Tells it to debt collectors, insurance agents, neighbors, an endless parade of grocery store cashiers Rehearsed like a script, like the day his car flipped 14 times Laying in the ditch already planning how to tell the story Dates fall through his wrinkled hands like water And time with them, swirling down the drain Maybe the old stories what keep us sane, The better days, the days without the pain and At least they’re free when everything else cost The weight, we been tossed to the bottom and He forgets, simple things like which days we eat dinner If we eat dinner, I swear he’s getting thinner His reward for working every day for 66 years? Flickering lights and white rice It’s not nice Coughed-up SNAP pennies run out the first week SNAP pennies, snap peas, canned food don’t appease I give him the bigger part, two eggs to my one, and stay silent Shhh! Less than enough Think back to the day I learned About his debt, the way he Project the light like a diamond to settle accounts Through the cracks we don’t count He tells me his stories, how he saw a Buddhist man in Japan float during meditation Strength of belief lifting the guy off the ground If I believe enough, can I lift us up too? Skylar Schwartz Creative Arts Secondary School, Saint Paul | Grade 10 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: See More Perspective

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Why I Love Hunting and Fishing I love hunting and fishing not for the senseless killing of the animals And not for the thrill or the trophies that you catch or kill. I love hunting for the memories, the fun, the time it takes To have a successful hunting and fishing trip, I love the work it makes To get a big fish or a big deer, and for all the things I love dear Hunting and fishing, the memories and tradition are as important as the air we breathe I love the time when the leaves start turning and the geese and ducks blanket the sky, and you get to go out and take something that the good Lord gave you To provide, pleasant, present potlucks. I love when it starts cooling down and you Get to set up trail cameras and start shooting your bow, just to go and sit and see nothing or see a lot, but it’s calming so you keep going. When the ground starts freezing and the ground turns white, and you know it’s the time to get the hunting cabin ready like you do for a Christmas party And you’re ready to see your family that you wish you saw more But you’re thankful to keep this family tradition. After all this hunting, the lakes is freezing and that’s when the ice fishing starts And you know you get to go to the lake cabin and sit in front of the wood stove to warm up And for freezing your feet just to come back with six walleye that your family get to eat, That’s when you know you’re blessed with life. And after all the ice fishing, it’s time for the snow to melt and to turkey hunt and from turkey hunting to summer fishing I love hunting and fishing not for the senseless killing of the animals And not for the thrill or the trophies that you catch or kill. C. M. Roseau Secondary, Roseau | Grade 9 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali 80 | Memories Carved Into Stone

Speeding Through When my dad was 16 He had his first car Then he found himself speeding through stop signs Speeding down the roads he has walked on his whole life Now I am finding myself speeding through my 7th grade life When my dad started speeding in his first car The ride was scary and risky and thrilling, full of intensity When I started seeing my seventh grade self The images are bold, beautiful, bright and thrilling full of my traits In those images I also see myself as a little girl That part of me wants to sing and dance The other part says you are speeding ahead I find myself trying to float down this genetic river of growth Trying to find myself Trying to be myself. Trying to slow down down down When all I can do is speed up up up. I feel like a motor boat on my river of chains of DNA I can really only slow down when I run out of fuel Finding myself running out of 7th grade Just speeding through my 7th grade life Every day I feel more like a dominant allele and less like that little girl That little girl who got on her bike and biked away so fast that you couldn’t even see her go That little girl, now grown up, wonders if she can get a speeding ticket for Speeding through her 7th grade life Frances Roesner Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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When I Think About My Grandmother When I think about my grandmother, I think about how weak she made me I want to hate, to hurt, to cheat Why you ask? Because being born black means in order to survive in this world, I have to be strong I have to hate being anything other than hateful makes you weak But instead I cry I love I care I wish the best for those who don’t deserve it Is it weakness or does it make me the strongest? Kingston Davis MTS Secondary, Minneapolis | Grade 12 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Guante (Kyle Tran Myhre)

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Stephanie Big dimples and a messy bun or braid or maybe two. Ripped jeans and teal sneakers and the smell of tea and sunbaked chairs. A laughing Moomin or a green Totoro. Memories carved into stone like rosin on a violin.

Eleanor Lee St. Paul Academy - Lower School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

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I Didn’t Think It’d Bother Me I didn’t think it’d bother me, When you stopped carrying your blanky around. I guess you just didn’t need it anymore, Without it, you still feel safe and sound. Which is weird, no really it is, Because it feels like just yesterday when you’d cry, You wouldn’t go to sleep without a cuddle and your blanky, And without it there’d be tears in your eyes. I didn’t think it’d bother me, In fact I thought it would be fun, When I tried to let you win a race, And I actually had to run! When did you get so fast and so tall? When did you stop wearing your hair up in a bow? As I look at you I wonder, Where did my little sister go? You’ve grown to be so big, And you’re opinions have too, And although sometimes we fight, I hope you know I love you. I didn’t think It’d bother me, When you stopped getting scared at night. I remember when you used to want to sleep in my room, You said the monsters in your room gave you a fright. You’re a big boy now, I guess that’s where things sit. I know you really are, it’s just hard to admit. And although you are so big, Don’t ever forget or any other.

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Even as you grow to be a giraffe, You will always be my little brother. I didn’t think it’d bother me, And I still don’t think it does. When you started to tell me about your day, And how great it was. I still remember you, When you couldn’t talk quite yet, You’d babble and squeak, Until all your needs were met. But, I do think It will bother me, When you are too cool to give me big bear hugs. I hope you always trust me, And tell me of anything that hurts or tugs. No matter where you go, Or how much older you get, Your big sister will always be there for you, And you guys are there for me, I bet. No matter how much you bother me, Or how annoying you are, Just know I am always proud of you, It shines through me like a star. However far apart we are, Keep this in your heart, As we venture through the world together, Growing up, we will never truly be apart.

Emerson Hudson Valley View Middle School, Edina | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

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250 Years Ago That a nation was formed, Freedom for the bold Like from two parents’ DNA a nation formed full of hope and greed for our founding fathers did not see, that as they escaped their captors they themselves became jailers of the “land of the free” 250 years ago, i am told, that Those coming to this land, God told That they should “civilize” the criminals of this country, teach them how to read and write, and punish those willing to fight 250 years ago i am told That our founding fathers did what was right, like the nucleus controlling the cell the people followed without question or thought until the world taught us how wrong we were 250 years ago America was born out of ash and smoke out of tears and blood out of dead mothers and crying children 250 years ago i now know that, even though america is a great nation this story is covered up like the recessive alleles in a genotype the people who have fought the fight must not be forgotten in “America’s might” River Downes Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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The Man I See in Me

See this artist in performance‌.

A few weeks ago, I saw a photo of my dad when he was younger. It almost looked exactly like me. I used to think I was just… me Ordinary. Separate. But I see it now, I’m just like my dad, my traits come from him. Like my hair on my head My eyes are golden brown, just like his. Almost like the leaves on the trees when they’re falling to the ground. My blood is from him. My genetics are from him. My dad isn’t just someone I remember, He’s someone I am. He shaped me. Held me up. Listened when I needed it most. He supported me, and most of al,l He loved me. Then all of a sudden he was… gone. My heart was empty. My body was filled with anger and refusal. I just thought NO NO NO it didn’t happen. It was fake, sometimes I still think that, But now I know he’s never coming back. The photo that I saw a few weeks ago showed me my dad never fully left. He is still here. In my face, a quiet trace. In my voice, an echo I don’t replace. My traits and genetics are from him. Not just that, but my DNA is built up from a part of his. A few weeks ago, that photo of my dad showed me, He never fully left. I am proof that he was here. Sam Levin Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 8 Spoken Word Showcase Memories Carved Into Stone | 87

Memories This piece is dedicated to my late grandma, Donza. I called her Gram. Looking back I can see, They’d forgotten all about me. It took ahold of their mind, Pried it away. Left us behind, With a woman who had nothing to say. She couldn’t remember the day of my birth. That was a memory she couldn’t unearth. She couldn’t remember my name or my face, Her mind had long since left this place. She couldn’t remember her children, Couldn’t remember her life. She was left bedridden, Couldn’t remember she was a wife. When you had gone, I didn’t know how to feel. I remember playing in your lawn, It still barely feels real. When you had left, I didn’t know how to cry, Didn’t know how to grieve. I couldn’t be there when you died, I didn’t know how to ache, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to fake, That I really was ok. When you left, I barely knew you, I was only eight. And now I’m here past due, mourning you late. I didn’t know who you were, And you’ll never knew who I am. And I didn’t learn. 88 | Memories Carved Into Stone

How to say goodbye to you, Gram? So here I am, saying it now. You’ve long since left, taken your bow. And even though you’ve left into the sky I’m saying, I love you Gram. And finally, I’ll say goodbye.

Jude Huffman Justice Page Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Showcase See this artist in performance‌.

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Untitled i prayed i listened and waited I prayed i listened and i waited/ They asked me if i believe in god/ So i nodded as if the question wasn’t odd/ And see, I’ve always tried to make a connection/ But it seems like stays at the left end/ i prayed i listened and i waited/ And nothing ever came/ i can’t count the number of nights i prayed/ Begging for change And see it seemed like i lacked total aid Nothing in this world ever seemed the same For the bright little girl who was put to shame I prayed , i listened and i waited/ For god to put an end to this misery To take me up to hear the angels sing So just maybe i hear his voice again The little boy i used to play with in the playpen The little boy whose life was taken due to highspeed They day the light inside me Vanished in his

A. C. Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Why Now Why now is it aesthetic? Why is it cool? It wasn’t cool back then in elementary school. Kids stretched their eyes So far back into thin lines until they claimed It looked like mine. I was a walking punchline. A “Chinese” girl before I even knew the map. They’d say “Ni-hao!” to me in the hall, laughing at a language I didn’t speak at all. So I made wishes on birthday candles. I used to wish I was white with bigger eyes, blue eyes, and hair of gold. ”Are you Chinese?” They’d guess. I told them I was Hmong, but they didn’t know the word. Back then, I didn’t know they were being mean to me, just thought they were being kids In a world I couldn’t see. Then they asked if I ate my own dog. They asked if I ate my cats. They said my home-cooked lunches were gross. And looked at my food like that. I told them I was from right here. They asked where my parents were from. I said “They’re from here too!” And they looked at me like I was dumb.

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But look at today! The tables turned overnight. Now we are “aesthetic.” Now we are “trendy.” Now, the same eyes that once stretched to look like mine, are lined with eyeliner, trying to match them. Suddenly my food is aesthetic. Dumplings are trendy. Ramen is, “Oh my god, so good!” Sushi is a personality. They only want the bright parts. The Korean, Japanese, and Chinese parts. But I’m still Hmong. They say I’m so lucky to be Asian, “I wish I was Asian too!” They sigh. Suddenly my culture is a jacket they put on when it’s trendy and take off when they get bored. They look at me and see a screen. “You look just like that Squid Game character!” “You look like that K-Drama star!” “You look like my favorite K-Pop idol!” But I didn’t. I never did. I was just another face they thought was the same. Lunar New Year arrives, social media fills with non-Asian faces. They post videos with big, bold text. “My first time being Asian!” 92 | Memories Carved Into Stone

A joke. A trend for the day. Wait.. It’s my first time being Asian too! Almost. But my first time had slurs and kids pulling their eyes, while yours has compliments and pretty blue skies. my first time was hiding the food I ate, while yours has food sushi-rolled onto a plate. But it’s okay now, right? Because today, I am “aesthetic.” Today, my features are a filter. Today, I am lucky. A costume they can take off. A skin I can never leave. I’m looking in the mirror and have to ask: Why now?

Elena Yang Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Festivities Every year, There are multiple things I’m excited for, They are what brings most families together. You see, traditions are a way to share your hopes and beliefs with your family. That is what they are all about. Believing. Just believing. You see, when you believe you have hope and you put your heart with it. It gets special to you. Like a birthday party or Christmas, They are both what I celebrate. You celebrate a tradition because you have hope. You celebrate them because it completes your happiness. Just believing. They bring happiness forward because there’s generosity, humor, and smiles. Oh, and they last a while. Even you may think “It will take 1000 days!” Do you ever have happiness from the holidays? Joy in the spring? Traditions are flowers they bloom as you grow And almost always they’re fun, you know. Sometimes they are sweet as sugar. Sometimes they are quite bitter. But the best part of traditions are just simple. Just believing. That’s the only point, the gift that keeps on giving. Henry Faschingbauer Hillcrest Community School, Bloomington | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Groundhog Day Halfway through November, and Here comes December. I sit by the fire close to The ember. Still no snow but the Cold begins to show. I can feel it nipping at The tip of my nose. And yet my love grows for That unforgiving chill in The air. If I see the northern lights I’ll stop and stare. The geese fly south for the Winter, they run from the flare Of the December air. And with them, I know you’ll Go too. But just know I’ll always be there. I’ll be ready to see you next spring.

Theresa Gannon MTS Secondary, Minneapolis | Grade 12 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Guante (Kyle Tran Myhre)

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If You Were Human If I was a flower, I would be rose Because a plant like that can’t thrive unless everything is perfect. The ground has to stable, if it is able And “Oh, that water is far too hot for me.” Just like me. If I was a fish, I would be a goldfish Because when you have the memory of a goldfish, You aren’t going to remember anything. And I can’t seem to remember what truly matters. I can’t remember if my friends really are my friends, Or if I just made them up. I can’t remember if everything my mom says are lies, Or the truth. I can’t remember if my sister truly enjoys spending time with me, Or if she did it because she was bored. I can’t remember, no all I remember is ever since I was little, I was different. I thought more, talked more, felt more, and I was scared, scared to be treated differently, to be seen differently. So I hid, like the grass I didn’t come out until spring, but maybe it’s time, time for it to be spring. To see all of the daisies and dandelions welcoming me with open arms. To feel the soft grass underneath my skin, the birds chirping as they fly around.

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Maybe it’s time to be a daisy, not care what people think of me, as I bloom in the hollow dirt Maybe it’s time to be a shark. Sharks stalk their prey until they’ve won and never forget anything. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding, to stop letting how I feel affect the people who truly care, Because I may doubt the care and love, but deep down my heart will keep beating while they’re around, Bump bump, Bump bump. Because that sound means I’m human, And it’s time to start feeling like one. Because spring has come, And I refuse not to bud with the love, I have been given. Spring has come, and my hiding days are done.

Lucy Laufenberg Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Summer The sun wakes us up The golden day A warm breeze laughs and drifts our way Bare feet run on the sandy shore while ocean waves beg us for more Ice cream drips in colors Bright as the sun Fireflies dance softly at night Long days stretch as the sky turns blue Every moment feels fresh and new Summer sings a care-free tune Under the stars and glowing moon S. F. Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School, Le Sueur | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Mauve Mauve is like raindrops tumbling to the ground in big heavy thuds. It’s like watering old plants in the dead of winter. It’s like watching my mother do her hair in the bathroom mirror. Like returning home after a long trip and finding everything exactly where you put it.

Rosemary Rischall St. Paul Academy - Lower School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

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One After Another A lush field, adorned with flowers Sits with abundant dreams of summer A farmer sits studded with grief A memory too far to see A woman laughs, youth in her eyes the memory soon dies A flower is plucked Power is struck A vision anew A flower askew An empty field, not a trace of color It sits abandoned with not a thought of summer A farmer sits sadder with grief A memory lost No longer able to see A flower springs through Green as can be A warm breeze, melts the winter weeds A field with one flower Bright like no other It sits alone With not yet another A farmer watches his field grow Oh so colorful He remembers a time with another Oh so wonderful

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A flower will die A death A life One after another

Beatris Brooks Valley View Middle School, Edina | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

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Dad I remember your smile; it made the sun rise. I remember your voice, soft with a touch of a Spanish accent; it made the waves crash against the rocks on the beach. I remember when I was a little girl and I couldn’t fall asleep, you would come and nap beside me. Even now, in Nicaragua, when you’re not next to me, I still feel like you’re here. Dad.

Grace Otto St. Paul Academy - Lower School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

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Chapter 4:

Our Voice Matters

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Two Voices Two voices told me different things One gave me flight, the other cut my wings Two voices spoke when I looked in the mirror One said I was pretty, the other looked at my face in fear Two voices rang in my ear as I ate One was happy I was eating, the other worried about my weight One voice told me something It said my voice should be heard, that I was important One voice told me something else It said I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be listened to Two voices at once told me different things Battling between positivity and negativity Then my own voice whispered to me Why should I care what others think? Voices this, voices that. I'm my own person, and that's that I can be whoever I want to be, do whatever I want to do, I'm free So instead of listening to those two voices in your head Hear your own voice instead Let it be free, shout it loud Your voice matters, even if it's lost in a crowd. Marlene Lyon Valley View Middle School, Edina | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency & Showcase Teaching Artist: Desdamona See this artist in performance‌.

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Eldest Daughter Sometimes being the oldest is really hard. Three little siblings are a lot, especially if they’re annoying. Two boys and one girl. Sassy Dorothy, whiny Teddy and you don't want to know about Antuan. Antuan’s the oldest of them, followed by Teddy, then Dorothy. “It’s hard being the middle child,” Antuan always complains. Try being the oldest. Sometimes being the oldest is really hard. When Dorothy steals my flosser and other random things like she’s a bandit. When Teddy quits the game as soon as he’s it. When Antuan is really mean to me. Sometimes my little siblings are more monsters than kids. Sometimes being the oldest is really hard, but sometimes it isn’t. When Antuan helps me with things I can’t do myself. When Teddy gives away good things just for us like Robin Hood. When Dorothy is as cute and gentle as a bunny. Sometimes being the oldest is really hard, but I wouldn’t trade a million dollars for my little siblings. Dakota Henderson Hillcrest Community School, Bloomington | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Let Children Grow People can force a flower open. But we aren't like flowers cuz we have the power. We bloom on our own. Our tone is loud. And people are mad cuz kids are sad. And I had a talk with a person who walks. Kids need to grow, adults should go with the flow. You can be whoever you are. Don't let people hold you back like glue on a shoe,

Lacey Hudspeth Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School, Le Sueur | Grade 4 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

106 | Our Voice Matters

Hold On Bring the world freedom, Peace You are smooth and strong, life inside all of us, beating through our bodies, always there in every heart, Choose to use it. Peace, hold on to that rock that I sit on, on a calm afternoon, hold on to the book that I read Sitting on that rock for inside that book is peace. Peace is like sand dunes with the breath of the world, blood of the world, waiting for you, Peace, waiting for YOU!

Briah Burrows Meadowbrook Elementary, Golden Valley | Grade 4 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

Our Voice Matters | 107

Racism Is Unfair. Racism is unfair. Coming from where I’m from, When I step outside seeing everyone, playing outside with kids, but if you don’t know me by now We see our Asian kids playing by themselves cause we are ching chongs but they been wrong / it’s been long since we haven't seen our people play with color/kids. In my society I see kids not knowing how To make friends/, because in our generation we can make a change about it right? Not because were Asian/ I’m not a ching chong, I’m Hmong, we’re Hmong, Not Chinese/ so it's different just because of our color doesn't mean I'm this or that. Only if people knew what We went through and how we feel because we are all human right? Then why do I feel like a creature sometimes out of place? Being Hmong isn’t a crime so why treat it like that. What people don't know about my people… is that I’m humans we’re shamans. we have our own Hmong new year celebrations, We have our own traditional clothing, our own language our own way to not be embarrassed to be how I am and who you are. So why do I feel like this have to be recognized? Shouldn't we be equal? So why does it feel like society is just one sided? I’m proud to be Hmong isn't that enough? 108 | Our Voice Matters

I'm told to speak but silent i remain a quiet echo of ancestral pain They see the slanted eyes , the sliver shine and they map out assumptions On this skin of mine. Where are you from? they ask, polite but cold ignoring The saga of my story told.

S. V. Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Our Voice Matters | 109

Animal Poem If I was a monkey I’d swing to the sun If I was a cat I would stay up all night to scratch at the big ball of the moon If I was a frog I would jump to Mars If I was a chicken I would cock-a-doodle-doo like a storm on Jupiter If I was a cheetah I would run on the rings on Saturn Gabriel Guida Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 3 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

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Always Believe in Yourself Always believe in yourself, No matter what you do. When life gets rough and rocky, like a volcano, Let your courage lift you through, Like wings catching wind. Stand tall, stay true, keep shining. Don’t forget your point of view. Always believe in yourself, ’cause there’s only one of you. Sometimes it feels like the world’s on your back, Like carrying a heavy and lumpy stack. You try to walk forward, but the ground feels steep, And your dreams seem far, like they’re fast asleep. But every small step is a step you win. Keep going, keep trying, don’t give in. Doubts pop up like popcorn in your brain, Jumping around and driving you insane. They whisper, “You can’t,” but you tell them, “I can,” And push them out of the way with a confident plan. You’ve climbed through tough things; you’ve made it before. You’re tougher than trouble, you’re ready for more. You don’t have to be perfect to get stuff done. Just try your best; that’s how battles are won. Even heroes fall down. Even a champions trip. But they stand back up with a stronger grip. Believing in yourself is a superpower spark, A tiny little flame that can light up the dark.

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Our Voice Matters | 111

Always believe in yourself, No matter what. Some days blow in like a windy storm, And nothing you do feels right or warm. But storms don’t stay they pass and go, And after the rain, your strength will show. Your strength is a quiet river, Carving its own way through stone. Tell yourself words that pull you through: “I’m brave. I’m strong. I know what to do.” Positive thoughts are like keys you hold, Unlocking the courage that lives in your soul. You’ve got people who care and stand by your side, But the voice that matters most is the one you can’t hide. The voice inside whispering, “You’ll make it, you’ll see.” The voice that believes in who you can be. Every dream you have is a seed you plant, And with belief in yourself, there’s nothing you can’t. So when fear tries to stop you or block your way, Don’t listen just tell it, “You won’t win today.” Stand up, breathe deep, and remind yourself too: There’s nobody on Earth who can do things like you.

112 | Our Voice Matters

Always believe in yourself, No matter what you do. When life gets rough and rocky, Let your courage pull you through. Stand tall, stay true, keep shining. No one else can take your view. Always believe in yourself, ’cause there’s only one you. Always Believe In Yourself.

Jaden Ingram Hillcrest Community School, Bloomington | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Our Voice Matters | 113

My Life Started Late Thump! My life started late. I guess I didn't want to face the real world. When did you first realize that you can't go back in time? I did when I was five years old. When I was five, I had hair so short that it was above my ears. I was misunderstood. Being shy meant that people didn't really know me, the real me. When I started third grade, I met someone who helped me find my confidence. It was like a weighted blanket got blown off me, revealing my true self. I was big and loud. The musical came and I signed up. Little did I know that I'd do this for two more years. Fourth grade came and I found out about depression. It was like stepping on boiling water and ice at the same time. I did the musical again and got the lead. Now, in fifth grade, I know how to improve my acting. I'm also doing vocal lessons.

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Before, when I sang, it had no meaning. Now, when I sing, colors flow freely and I feel warm. I have never understood math. When I read a problem, it's like something is blocking my view. The musical came again and I got the lead. Now, I know that getting the lead isn't something I need. It's something I want. My life started late. Probably because I wasn't ready for all the great things that would happen.

Wren Watland St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Our Voice Matters | 115

Obstacle One and two and three and four CLAP! CLAP One and two and three and four CLAP! CLAP! One and two and three and four CLAP! CLAP! One and two and three and four CLAP! CLAP! An obstacle is something, something in the way, you go around, over it, under it all day An obstacle’s a challenge, I’m telling you, but don’t let it beat you, you’ll get through! CLAP! CLAP! Reading is hard, it’s hard to turn the pages, reading a book sometimes takes ages Read it again, you’ll get the story, read it again, you’ll find glory! CLAP! CLAP! Times and division, it’s all math, you gotta memorize, summarize, get all the facts Times and division, it’s time for a test, get out your pencil and be your best! CLAP! CLAP! Riding a bike, it’s not so easy, many times you can get dizzy, you can get dizzy and there’s a crash! Better wear your helmet or pay some cash! CLAP! CLAP! Got to be quiet and pay attention, some people think attention is just 6-7 Gotta be quiet or you’ll miss out on something good, there’s no doubt! CLAP! CLAP! Obstacles are not too big, just keep going, take a breath, keep on growing Don’t give up, you’re almost there, just be brave and not scared! CLAP! CLAP! (END!) Mr. Winkels’ Class Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School, Le Sueur | Grade 3 Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

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Who Am I? Who am I? Who am I when teachers ask who we are, what we like, what we're made of? Staring down at the blank piece of paper, All I can put down are the traits others say describe me, But is that really me? Kind, funny, respectful, or am I really just obnoxious, annoying, unfitting, Comparing myself to friends, can I say I'm smart when to some, I'm not? Who am I if all my life is one big blur? Not being able to see the path standing right there, While others want to be this, be that, All I'm thinking is if I'll ever have a goal and get out of this hole. What if I never find a place? What if I never find my space? I crave a future that feels truly mine But how do I even find that job of mine? Time is ticking, The days slowly counting down, I'm not ready for changes, Why is there such a wide range of strangers? In this deep void, I'm feeling lost, When will I recognize my path and see the surroundings giving me warmth? Who am I? Who am I? The question emerging from the dead, pounding in my head. Angela Chen Valley View Middle School, Edina | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona Our Voice Matters | 117

Life Is Life is weird it doesn't work the you think it works It is unexpected It is a rollercoaster Life is messed up It makes you feel like everybody is against you Life is horrible You feel like you don't want life It gives you anger and anxiety Life is impulsive You want to do everything your thoughts say to do Like when your mom gives you her credit card and says Just buy one book But the next thing you know you bought them all Life is calm You can feel pages in the book flipping themselves You can imagine you are facing an evil monster Life is lonely like nobody cares Like your heart is empty Hollow Shattered life is awful Hateful and angry And life is something we don’t want sometimes Life is graceful You can feel your inner swan The calm washes over you somedays You need to be calm to feel everything You might hate people But remember Life is about forgiveness You don’t have to forget Life is happy like when you get a new book or a million dollars Life is war

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A constant battle for the last Oreo Life is you in your best and worst way Life is everything all at once Life is ours to have

Charlotte Schaffer Hillcrest Community School, Bloomington | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Our Voice Matters | 119

Dear Penelope's Skin Cells Dear Penelope’s Skin Cells, are you exhausted? fighting a villain that lurks everywhere but the shadows An adept ninja slipping, sliding, surprising through clouds and car windows Yet also, a field army banging and clanging through unrelenting beams of pure heat Most call it the sun, but you, you know better So in the depths of winter you never give up the hunt Snow melting is your fire alarm alerting you to be on guard You do all this to protect me yet I block your every shot your warzones on my fingers and ears are warm and itch a lot Caked on layers of sunscreen Smothered by creams Suffocating in gloves Medicine thrown at you whichever way I please Quite nobel prize worthy to be that bent on your quest 120 | Our Voice Matters

I should give you praise Instead I berate you “I hate you, I hate you” Were you taking a nap while my knee infection sprinted in? …You weren’t, you fought you fought tooth and nail Affected X-linked CGD carriers just have a disadvantage, that’s all So we disagree My opinion won’t change Yours genetically can’t Which is why I’m writing this letter I get it. I see you now. It’s going to be OK. Maybe partners don’t need total agreement anyway So, I can’t wait for our next adventure Our next big PR Our next aha moment Learning to drive a car The possibilities go to infinity and beyond… Much love, Penelope

Penelope Turner Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali Our Voice Matters | 121

Difficulties Depression, Anxiety, Stress, Autism, O.C.D, T.I.C.S, A.D.H.D. How do you deal with it? It hurts it stings it’s harsh How do you deal with it? Cries, screams, it’s hard. The crying the screaming the sadness How do you deal with it? It’s hard.

Aurora Hettinger Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School, Le Sueur | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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I Am OCD Hello, If you haven't met me yet, It's probably because I am not a person, I’m OCD. Nice to meet you. I live in millions of people’s heads. No, not all know I’m there. I’m OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and I live in Eleanor’s head, along with my roommates, ADHD, Anxiety, and Autism, But today we're talking about me. I'll show you my job. What I do is make sure nothing bad happens She thinks she's helping I make sure nothing bad happens Like get food poisoning I make her wash her hands four times before she eats Doesn't help, her hands get cracked And never let her eat three Cheerios at once You're not listening. You never do… And she can’t wear certain clothes on certain days See, like I said, not helping I can't sit in certain chairs I can't do certain dares It's like living with an extra brain She's as annoying as a tornado or a tick But I always deal But it's not all bad She has good energy too I am OCD.

Eleanor Hable Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali Our Voice Matters | 123

Call Me Back I don’t know I still care Are you there? Please call me back x4 I’m standing outside your door I know you playing games with your bros I need to see you smile I haven’t talked to you in a while So I don’t know I still care Are you there? Please call me back x 4 Stephanie Grimes and Gabriel Gordon’s Classes MTS Elementary, Minneapolis | Grades 4 and 5 Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

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Trees Trees are the things that make nature beautiful. Tell me when they are not beautiful? For me, they have twists and turns, bumps and bruises, each one unique. New Orleans 2023, that was one of the biggest trees I’ve seen, the branches touched the ground, so I climbed it like a mountain. So high, so tall. It ended when I slapped a palm tree, I got a blood all over my hand. See all the trees have unique stories. Tree have fruit and nuts, Just like spaghetti has meatballs. A man chopping into wood, chop chop chop chop. The sound of tears dropping into a puddle. The sound of a tree leaving our world. But no more! Stand up and be like the Lorax, trees must stay. Trees are beautiful, so take them in while you still can.

Ben Backman St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Our Voice Matters | 125

Untitled Today I learned how to write a truth poem. I realized, I never said how I improved my language skills. My voice is loud, my voice sounds different from when I was a kid. I was playing midfield, like David Beckham. Maybe I’m becoming a professional soccer player. They think I was raised in America, but I come from Africa, specifically from Djiboudi, where the life is too hard. For me, the truth is that I will never give up until I get my success, and be what I wanna be in the future! Abdi Mahamoud Banaadir Academy, Minneapolis | Grade 12 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Dralandra Larkins

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Where I'm From Where I’m from, I can’t date the person with the same last name as me. Where I’m from, there are more layers of clothes for girls than guys. Where I’m from, girls must be perfect. But it's not their life, It’s mine. I get to choose who I wanna be. I get to choose my career, my path, and my life. I may be a Christian, but I don’t care who you wanna be. I’m not the type of person to tell you who you are. Just be yourself. S. Y. Creative Arts Secondary School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: See More Perspective

Our Voice Matters | 127

The Now and Future of Us “You're too young to understand,” they say. But I refuse that. (Turn head, disagreeing) We’re not just some non-existent, tiny little object (Pinch fingers together) that can’t hear (Tap ears) things. We see (Tap and widen eyes) and observe things around us. (Circle both arms.) We want to be able to spread our wings and be a part of this, too. (Spread arms.) My worry for this is like a giant dark storm, (Twirl fingers around) twirling around and around until it stops. I sit on my bed, knees together, eyes closed, (Move hand above head and swipe down.) and hands locked. (Lock hands) I take a deep breath (Motion breathing) and start to cry out for more peace, hope, and justice for our community and world. We hide behind our shadows in fear (Turn and hide face), like we used to hide behind our mothers as kids. Yes, we are young, but we won’t give up. This will be our roller coaster, going up and down, and all around. (Arms go up, and down.) But this path will never be straight; (Pretend to cut left arm with right.) We must go through these things to learn and understand how to get out of this darkness and pain. We need to bite the bullet, not beat around the bush. (Slam hand into fist) 128 | Our Voice Matters

Even after protesting, we can still do more if we keep pushing and pushing; we’ll make it out of the dark valley. Let us be people who have a heart of gold. (Touch heart) Let’s make our world better, so the walls no longer trap our people in silence. Turning fears into fierce, powerful pride and positivity, and I know it can be hard, but the least we can do is try. For our now and for our future, of us.

Chloe Yang Brooklyn Middle STEAM School, Brooklyn Park | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

Our Voice Matters | 129

Roar of a Lion I am from the spiderwebs in my attic I am from the roar of a lion I am from the love inside my mom I am from the smell of my favorite food, mac and cheese I am from the energy inside my old rabbit I am from the wrapping around my present I am from the air of a new city I am from the pain of a broken arm I am from the air of a basket ball

Nelson Ridore Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 3 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

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No More Dynamite, I Want Flowers Oh oh oh x 4 No more dynamite / I want flowers x 4 Oh oh oh x 2 When I was dancing in my room I forgot about the doom I listened to my speaker …….And my doom vibes got weaker Oh oh oh x2 No more dynamite / I want flowers x 4 Oh oh oh x2 What is this light I can’t fight? It’s peaceful and quiet My Kindness is my power ….It makes me think of flowers Oh oh oh x2 No more dynamite / I want flowers x 4 Oh oh oh x 4 Don’t steal from my cup, I ate that up Lets be fair and show some care To people everywhere Oh oh oh x2 No more dynamite / I want flowers x 4 Oh oh oh x 4 Vanessa Gerzin and Taylor Merrell’s Class MTS Elementary, Minneapolis | Grades 2 and 3 Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

Our Voice Matters | 131

Untitled My voice sounds different and I don’t know how to stop. The truth is I miss my mother and it make my heart feel heavy. Maybe I am strong, Maybe I am not, But I still keep going, Even when life seems hard, Sometimes I smile outside, But inside I feel alone. I hope one day, My heart will feel okay. Again, And again, And again, And again.

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Nimco Farah Banaadir Academy, Minneapolis | Grade 12 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Dralandra Larkins

Midnight Blue I feel like a cold gust of wind. I sound like a baby waterfall finding its way through the lingering mysteries of light. On my days alone, I wonder why I’m not dark and dull, or light and bright? Instead, I’m dark and bright. Then I remember, whatever I am, I’m still glad to be just midnight blue.

Jiya Mulpuru St. Paul Academy - Lower School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

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Chapter 5:

I See The World As It Glows

Our Voice Matters | 135

In My Community I See In my community I see trees of green But I also see mountains of snow Winter is as harsh as a crime scene But just as the snow melts, I see the sun start to glow Snow melts and flowers bloom We adore the sun as you would assume Hunting & fishing are hobbies we enjoy, you may even see someone dressed like a cowboy As I watch the flowers grow and the river flow I sit and wonder everything I don’t know I may see my community as sunshine and rainbows, but life isn’t all about the pros I see the world as it glows Gleaming in colors of red or blue, even though most don’t have a clue Looking left or right, but not on the road Wondering which country will explode Is it, “fighting for our country,” or just fighting? Let’s just hope it won’t backfire Oh and remember to wear the right attire. Sign my life away not because I want to, but otherwise I’d be breaking the law I sit back in awe because I can’t believe what I just saw I’ll leave a heavy sigh and say, “Are we sure it’s not AI?” Celebrating the Fourth of July, but I’m seeing more rainbows than flags Tiktok, Instagram, and Snapchat are all apps we stare at But it’s not just for “chit-chat”

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Republican or Democrat Left or right Red or blue, pick a side but don’t think it through America’s theme song, except some don’t stand Some aren’t even welcome on this homeland The country of freedom, which will you choose? But at least you can refuse Right? Now we talk about ICE Not like the kind in my drink, but the kind making headlines, crossing boundaries and throwing people to the ground with their claws But it’s okay, because YOU said it was. Here in Roseau, it’s as quiet as a mouse You don’t really worry about someone invading your house Neighbors, friends, and family we all get along Because we ALL belong Here we spread laughter and love I suppose that’s why you wouldn’t hear of Roseau, Minnesota My community and my home It’s a place where anyone can roam

J. M. Roseau Secondary, Roseau | Grade 9 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Fear of Immigrants Walk a mile in my shoes, you see kids with a hand on their chest, “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.” But how are we united? Because as soon as a person speaks a language that isn’t English They are looked at weird, Then taken by the thing they most fear. They say colored people are like aliens, weird, different language speaking creatures. We jump with a single knock on the door Thinking our biggest fear, Is behind those closed doors, That fear is carried in them, where ever they go, Parents that came here, To give their kids a better life, now are getting taken by what they fear, “And to the Republic for which it stands one nation under god indivisible with liberty and justice for all.” Justice for who? There was no justice for Renee Good, Nor Alex Pretti. So why don’t we have justice? They look at colored people, like they are a menace to the world. How does my language affect you? Am I selected as your next target? Just because I’m selling food at the flea market?

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That doesn’t mean I should be your next target. Am I a menace for speaking a different language? Do I need to pack my baggage? Why is my language a joke? We have to stay woke. This world is broken. (x2)

Y. Community of Peace Academy, Saint Paul | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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The Night The night is like a big black, blanket, warm like fire. The cars bustling through are like a short story. The swishing water is like the sound of creaking crickets. The moon is like a tiny night light. The world is like a soft and fluffy doll.

Cece Spessard Gleason Lake Elementary, Plymouth | Grade 2 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Joyce Sidman

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Hidden Trees What ways do the trees lean? Toward the church reaching out toward, the cars that pass unknowingly. What ways do the trees lean? Toward the nurse with too many patients, Crying as she passes the church with her car she’s still paying off. What ways do the trees lean? Toward the businessman cutting them down, Killing them for profit, the wind blows there. What ways do the trees lean? Toward the couple walking down the sidewalk, The boy holding back his truth, resentment grow. What ways do the trees lean? Away from where they grow, Reach toward the sun. Where do the trees grow? Hidden from the sun, Always trying to lean towards the sun.

Eva Hanson Tri-County Secondary School, Karlstad | Grade 10 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

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That’s My Dog That’s my dog, His name is Clark, He is a crazy little frenchie. One time he was burying his cheese flavored bone, Like a sneaky mouse in my basket of dirty clothes. That’s my dog, When he gives me that crazy look, and I know he is going to do his tiny little bark, And barks and barks and barks for treats and toys. That’s my dog, When he gets that special look in his eyes, and I know he is about to do zoomies, Clark is a crazy monkey when it comes to zoomies. That’s my dog, When he does what my family likes to call 360’s, but not gracefully, More crazy looking. That’s my dog, When he wants to go on a walk outside, but when he gets outside He wants to go straight back inside the house. That’s my dog. When he snuggles up in a cozy blanket, That’s what I love about him the most. When I grow up, I hope to get a dog of my own, Because I love my little dog, And that’s my dog!

Hattie Bauer Hillcrest Community School, Bloomington | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Antarctica Call and Response/Key of E Major No dogs allowed! They can’t go! To Antarctica, the seals say no! The seals say no! The seals say no! To Antarctica, the dogs can’t go! Makes me shiver! Just to know! That Antarctica is very cold. Very cold! Very cold! Makes me shiver, Antarctica is very cold! There is snow and ice, no Polar Bears, In Antarctica, you won’t see them there, You won’t see them there, You won’t see them there, In Antarctica you won’t see them there! Hold onto your hat! It’s windy there. In Antarctica, lots of blowing air. There is snow and ice, it’s desert dry. Let’s hop on a plane, you and I, To Antarctica, you and I!

Mr. Crosby’s Class St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade K Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

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In My World, I See War

On, and on, and on, and on. In my world, I see war. In Russia, the fighting has been endless, and in Ukraine, the days have been so long. It makes me want to end this and show that this disaster is wrong. But what power do I have? And what choices should I make? The leaders in these countries probably know what they are doing; to them, it’s a piece of cake. Twelve years of suffering, eleven years of pain, ten years of melancholy, and with it, no gain. My ancestors from both sides of the brawl gave me the genes and traits I have for me to stand tall. One side is sometimes stronger, while the other side is not; they overpower the weak and prove why they are on the spot. Like being dominant and recessive. Like being powerful and being small. Like being a heavyweight champion against a twig from the streets and all. Nine years of concern, eight years of blame, seven years of mischief, where many bombs tend to maim. I like to make music, I like to play sports, and I wonder if my ancestors had nets, or goals, or courts. It must have been so nice back then, it must have been so lovely, but now the same grounds are used not for kindness but tragedy. On, and on, and on, and on.

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In my world, I see war. “Ceasefire,” they call, “Ceasefire,” they shout. “Justice For Ukraine,” they don’t have any doubt. Their DNA is all unique, and their alleles are rarely the same. J Just like how paintings in art galleries are all different as they hang in their frame. Six years of hardship, five years of being alone, four years of bloodshed, where the war can’t always be postponed. “This is the last straw. We’ve had it to here!” They express it so clearly that they are a phenotype to their peers. The war is just so loud, it creates so much noise, and I feel so bad for the children right now, who can’t play with any toys. Three years of sickness, two years of depression, hopefully only one more year where this war leaves an impression. In my world, I see war. Lucas Reis Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency & Showcase Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali See this artist in performance‌.

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Paws on the Ground Paws on the ground, paws on the ground Wolf Pack running round Paws on the ground, paws on the ground Wolf Pack running around (HOWL) Covered in fur, black and gray The long fur helps keep the snow away Covered in fur brown and white The inner layer keeps them warm at night Bunnies and deer, good to eat We chase them on our feet Snakes and birds, and the moose What’s for dinner? It’s a goose! Thirty-seven miles per hour, we run fast Over the snow, over the grass Twelve to Twenty-seven wolves in a pack We run away, but we’ll be back! Show your nose! Show your claws! Show your ears! Show your paws! Last Refrain and Close…

Ms. Austin’s Class St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade K Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

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Chicken Wings Chicken wings, chicken wings oh mystical meat. Savory, saucy, spicy, or sweet. Chicken wings, chicken wings greasy, boneless, or fried. You are always on my mind. Chicken wings, chicken wings I like to eat at games, with pizza and ranch. I get so happy it makes me want to do a little dance. Chicken wings, chicken wings when I eat them it makes my mind go BOOM, POW, POP! I love them so much, my mom has to tell me to stop. Chicken wings, chicken wings I love to eat with friends I would eat them ‘till the end. Chicken wings, chicken wings you are as messy as a baby eating chocolate cake on a first birthday. It’s true, my wings are always on a tray. Chicken wings, chicken wings they are out of this world.

Drew Ward St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Being Mixed in a World Like This Brown hair, brown eyes, a trait something I’ve had since the day I arrived Something I despised If only I could have those perfect eyes Those eyes that give me hope and light In the darkest of times If only I wasn’t scared to be myself People still ask what are you? Like I’m a toy on the shelf Like I’m a crime unsolved Don’t get me wrong I love myself But my Asian heritage makes me feel like an outsider always looking in From the moment I arrived, my life changed Like a book without a cover Like a freak within But then I look again and see the blood in my body I’m half white too making me mixed. The world can be dense tho, cruel too Like I can’t be fixed! In a world like this, people like me aren’t accepted into society In this world, we are forgotten Because we’re different, Like we got to choose what we’re like Like the color of my eyes Or the skin that I despised it’s all in my DNA My whole life I never got to learn about the color of my skin All I got was a month, but I still got to say I’m different maybe in a good way

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But at the end of the day Were all the same The color of my skin or the way I talk Might be the genes I love and got But that doesn’t make me less of a person than you So I just want to say We take things for granted But everyone is perfect in their own way Just trust yourself and things will be alright! My whole life I’ve been scared to be myself But now that I’m here I couldn’t happier

Olive Jasiczek Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency & Showcase Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali See this artist in performance‌.

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Don’t We Live in the Same World A Call for Peace We think of ourselves, As the greatest species, But are we worthy of this statement? Having fought fourteen thousand battles, And signed only five hundred and sixty treaties, Don’t we live in the same world? A world where, We decimate countless nations, Leaving lives ruined, houses smashed, In the name of oil, we make others toil, Yet on our couches, at home, we remain unabashed But don’t we live In the same world? A world where, Once prosperous, peace-loving states Fractured by bullets, Dreams aflame On basis of religion, We turn these nations into smoldering, dystopian wastelands, Still, on our couches, at home, we bear no shame. But don’t we live In the same world? A world where, Legal citizens, residents, seeking a better future for their kids, Searching for freedom, frenetic, Are arrested, owing to the color of their skin. Again, on our couches, at home, we remain unapologetic. 150 | I See The World As It Glows

But don’t we live In the same world? A world where, Five hundred and fifteen innocent children In just a handful of years, are murdered, lives interred While learning how to count, read, and write, Yet again, on our couches, at home, we remain unstirred, This Is the world we live in. But don’t we live in the same world? A world bound not by borders, But by the humanity of our souls. We live in a world where we, The citizens, can stand up, For the people, To make this world, A better world. And thus, Because we live in the same world, Because we live In a shared world, Because we live In this world, I call for peace.

Idris Baxamusa Valley View Middle School, Edina | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

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Canoeing with Kynslee Kynslee and I are going on a challenging journey starting at the Roseau River and ending at Hudson Bay. We are traveling with a kevlar canoe that has woven seats and lots of space. Kynslee was in charge of all the meals, and I was in charge of all the snacks. We each brought our own gear for survival. I already had a small rain proof tent so we used that. I chose Kynslee to go on the trip with me because our families have been best friends since birth. Our two families always go on camping trips together, and we would canoe sometimes. My partner was always Kynslee. Our chemistry was great because she is my best friend as well. When we started the journey, the first few days were smooth and relaxing. Most of those days we let the stream take us while we were sun tanning. It was so beautiful with the trees and leaves. The wind was almost as if it was playing a song. After the first week the water got faster and more wild. The water caught us off guard. We then knew we were on the Red River. Every day on the Red River was a grind, and the bay was so muddy it was hard to find a spot to sleep. The next two days we faced harsh rapids. Kynslee was freaking out–screaming and crying. Inside, I was scared to death, but on the outside, I needed to stay calm. The more calm I was, the less scared Kynslee was. The rapids would spin us this way then the other. It would give us some air as well. The more rapids we went through, the better we got at controlling the canoe. Then, we finally got to Lake Winnipeg. Kynslee and I rented a dock and spent two nights in a hotel to reset. It felt so nice to finally sleep in a bed and not worry about bears. Kynslee and I went to the mall to shop for more supplies and met Will Steger, a famous explorer. He gave us so many tips to make a hard journey be the funnest thing ever. Once we had to resume the journey, we were more ready than ever. Lake Winnipeg was pretty smooth, but we paddled a lot. My biceps were huge after paddling so much. We made our way to the Hayes River. We were now in polar bear country, and we were very nervous about it. One night on the Hayes River, we encountered a bear and were scared to death. We didn’t eat anything that night, but by the morning, the bear was gone. We had a big breakfast and were on our way again. 152 | I See The World As It Glows

We were getting to the end of our trip with no fighting, until after a long day of paddling, we went to bed late. I got up at roughly 6 am, but Kynslee had other plans. She would not wake up. I tried to nicely wake her up, but she wouldn’t budge. So my only logical idea was to shake her, but she did not like that. Kynslee started punching and kicking me. She got me right in the face and gave me a black eye. So I made her look the same. Once we finally got on the water, we both had black eyes and we were not speaking to each other. Three days went past until we finally hugged it out and were all good again. One day soon after, I smelled the fresh scent of salt, and there we were at Hudson Bay. I was flooded with emotions of happiness, joy, excitement, relief, and accomplishment. We got to the bay, and I just laid in the grass smelling the sweet fragrance of flowers. I got up to see the bluest water glistening so bright. Kynslee and I were in awe. The beautiful wilderness relaxed my bones. Finally, we walked to the train station and drove past all of the places we had been. We reminisced about all the challenges, hardships, bonding and beautiful memories that we made. We had just finished one of the many hardships and challenges in our life long journey. Kynslee and I are now better friends than ever. M. E. Roseau Secondary, Roseau | Grade 8 Memoir Writing and Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Jon Lurie

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Kindness Pancake 1 pound of bravery 2 ounces of confidence 1 truckload of trust 4 cups of love 3 teaspoons of patience 5 tablespoons of gratitude And a pinch of sweetness Whisk it all together with a whisk from a blue sky on a sunny summer day/ Pour it into a frying pan of positivity and fry for an hour. Serve when it is needed the most Parla Ozutemiz Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 3 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

If I Was a Little Blue Penguin If I was a little blue penguin, I would make the world my burrow If I was a black panther, I would stalk my prey from the shadows If I was a bunny, I would hop to the moon If I was an eagle, I would soar through the multiverse Oliver J. Lovato Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 3 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter 154 | I See The World As It Glows

Untitled If we were all the same What would we gain? Hesitation, motivation Because if we were all the same There would be no moving on Because there would be no one to lead us forward Into change and difference So if we were all the same Would it even rain? Would the world even go round? Because everyone would do one thing The same thing Like puppy trainers and puppet makers And no one would plant the seed The seed that can change the world If we were all the same there would be no school Because everyone would know Everything and nothing If we were all the same Would there be emotions like pain Because everyone would feel it at the same time If we were all the same We would all like the same things like books, bikes and baths If we were all the same We wouldn’t share information Because everyone would already know the same thing But it’s a temptation

Esme Lindsley St. Anthony Park Elementary School, Saint Paul | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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Flowers I see houses, old and new I see roads paved from here To tomorrow I see I see gigantic buildings Dominant in a city of cement I see But nowhere Do I see the flowers My hazel eyes, a dominant trait, from my grandparents that hid on my parents genes to get to my genes My eyes, while they Reflect the world There are no flowers The flowers I loved as a kid The flowers I made Chains, Crowns, and Bouquets of I no longer smell their flowery fragrance in the flawed, fake air And I think to myself What a Fragmented world I see the factories spilling oil into our beloved rivers I see cars Horrendous and smoke puffing For our air is now polluted with the gases of Ignorance And greed

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Rumbling down the streets That were paved over the Delicate flowers Of all different color phenotypes Like the orange tiger lilies The purple pansies and red roses The blue lilac and the yellow Sunflowers And I think to myself What a Fragmented world

Cecelia Rapson Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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In This Tiny World In this tiny world I’m in I see love, kindness, peace. But in this tiny world I also see Pain, sadness, hatred and a big blue Sea with litter. Gas drizzling in to our sea World at war when we can have peace. In this tiny world I see a million, or a billion possibilities! In this tiny world we are in, Treat it Like how someone would see. In this tiny world I see humans of all colors, of all sizes, Humans with hair bright like the sun. Humans sad and humans having fun! In this tiny worldI see people breaking free of The chains that held on for Way too long. In this tiny world I see people heading out to sea. We can all work together to build our tiny orld for us and animals to be Free. In this tiny world I see Some of our beings polluting. In this tiny world I see animals being hunted and Always being seen. In this tiny world I see people only caring About money. In this tiny world i see Homeless people with 0 currency.

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In this tiny world I know, little babies are learning to grow. In this tiny world we all know, Treat it with kindness. In this tiny world I see people not caring for the community. In this tiny world we are in, we all see the same thing. And let us let our wings break free, And see the world needs you. *bow*

Olivia Olson Bailey Elementary School, Woodbury | Grade 5 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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I Have Mother in My Toes, But Father in My Nose I have mother in my toes but father in my nose I have mother in my toes The curve they make The way each one grows I have father in my nose The shape it chose and the way it rose But while our genes pass on their threads So does the debt above our heads Prices rise like a cavity while we just sink Like gravity Rent expands Groceries climb Yet, pay checks seem to freeze in time A worker bends A worker hurts But the money never actually exerts We focus on electronics, Galaxies, and skin Yet, we miss the flaws that we’re living in I have mother in my toes but father in my nose I have mother in my toes The curve they make The way each one grows I have father in my nose The shape it chose and the way it rose But while our genes pass on their threads So does the debt above our heads Prices rise like a cavity while we just sink Like gravity Rent expands Groceries climb Yet, pay checks seem to freeze in time A worker bends A worker hurts But the money never actually exerts We focus on Galaxies, electronics, and skin Yet, we miss the flaws that we’re living in 160 | I See The World As It Glows

I have mother in my toes but father in my nose It shows But maybe we can break the chain Pass down something better in our brain Not greed that spreads from generation to generation

Reese Larson Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali

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What a Wonderful World What a wonderful world. A world where stretching trees grasp the sunrays a world of cool breeze And blue skies that hug the earth and moons as white as milk dripping to create the stars. What a wonderful world. With screaming colors and birdsongs and the way the light shines through the trees, Creatures made of light shimmering on the forest floor, lightning that claps the ground and thundering rain so heavy it swallows you whole. What a wonderful world. A world that is one in a billion one planet in all of the universe we can live on. ///SHIFT/// What a wonderful world. where our houses are lined up in a row and we bleach the grass

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and call it beautiful. A world where dead buildings and brown roads replace the forests And fields and from the roots rise concrete towers. A world that chokes on its own creation, the billowing smoke blanketing the sky. And the sun is getting hot hot hotter and we’re suffocating. What a wonderful world. Where not every child gets the privilege of an education Where there is violence and discrimination we all bleed red yet there’s segregation what happened to our nation? I still see the stars between the buildings still feel the roots beneath my feet. What a wonderful world. At least it used to be.

Hazel Robertson Highland Park Middle School, Saint Paul | Grade 8 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Frank Sentwali I See The World As It Glows | 163

Wonders of the Night The night whispering through the trees Nothing to see, Nothing in sight The quiet time setting me at ease The moon shining by the mountain so bright My hair flowing through the gentle breeze So upsetting the day, but so calm the night What wonderful songs the birds can sing What wonderful times the night can bring

A. K. Red Lake County Central High School, Oklee | Grade 7 Spoken Word Residency Teaching Artist: Desdamona

Ocean Love The sky’s blue just like the ocean But I still come back to life with emotion The waves sounds like my heartbeat even though it’s not there I might have nothing to say cause it takes my breath away Like a potion Ocean Love x 4 Christian Taylor’s Class MTS Elementary, Minneapolis | Grade 6 Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Kashimana Ahua

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Peace is an African Baobab Tree Peace is an African Baobab tree reaching for the sun Peace is the beauty of a sunset painted on the evening sun Peace is a cormorant wading through a pond Peace is the ocean shimmering in the sun

Emilio McHugh Vélez Meadowbrook Elementary, Golden Valley | Grade 4 Poetry Residency Teaching Artist: Marie Olofsdotter

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Thankfulness Thankfulness is a wonderful thing I want to thank you, and so I’ll sing I am thankful for my mom and dad I want to thank them for not getting mad I’ll always love you, you know I will I’ll always care about you, my heart will fill I’ll always love you, you know I will I’ll always care about you, my heart will fill Thankfulness is for everyone I want to thank you all the way to the sun I want to thank you for new sisters and brothers too I want to thank you for their loving tune (Cho.) Thankfulness is a beautiful thing to say I want to thank you every day I want to thank our teachers for kindness and care They’ll keep us safely, anywhere (Cho.) Thankfulness is for everyone in the world I want to thank you, every boy and girl I want to thank all the people around For all the friendships, I’ve ever found (Cho.)

Mr. Siepel’s Class Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School, Le Sueur | Grade 3 Songwriting Residency Teaching Artist: Charlie Maguire

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Index by Student Writer A.,B. Roseau Secondary 74 Aligada, Ruby Highland Park Middle School 76 Arango, Martina Gomez St. Anthony Park Elementary School 40 Ashwood, Otis St. Paul Academy - Lower School 9 Austin’s Class, Ms. St. Anthony Park Elementary School 146 B., M. Meadowbrook Elementary 43 Backman, Ryan “Ben” St. Anthony Park Elementary School 125 Bauer, Hattie Hillcrest Community School 142 Baxamusa, Idris Valley View Middle School 150 Beier, June Meadowbrook Elementary 31 Braun, Harper Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School 42 Brooks, Beatris Valley View Middle School 100 Burrows, Briah Meadowbrook Elementary 107 C., A. Community of Peace Academy 90 Carlson, Lisbet Sanford Middle School 14 Chen, Angela Valley View Middle School 117 Coleman, Piper Highland Park Middle School 44 Crosby’s Class, Mr. St. Anthony Park Elementary School 143 Davis, Kingston MTS Secondary 82 Downes, River Sanford Middle School 86 E., M. Roseau Secondary 152 F., S. Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School 98 Farah, Nimco Banaadir Academy 132 Faschingbauer, Henry Hillcrest Community School 94 Fredrickson, Knox Avalon School 50 Gannon, Theresa MTS Secondary 95 Gerzin & Merrell, Grades 2/3 MTS Elementary 131 Greaves, Le-ticia Brooklyn Middle STEAM School 36 Grimes & Gordon, Grades 4/5 MTS Elementary 124 Grimstad, Vincent Bailey Elementary School 71 Guida, Gabriel Bailey Elementary School 110 Gupton’s Class, Mrs. Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School 22 Hable, Eleanor Bailey Elementary School 123 Halverson, Ellie Red Lake County Central High School 42 Hanson, Eva Tri-County Secondary School 141 Harris, Maya Sanford Middle School 57 Henderson, Dakota Hillcrest Community School 105 Hettinger, Aurora Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School 122 Hudson, Emerson Valley View Middle School 84 Hudspeth, Lacey Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School 106 Huffman, Jude Justice Page Middle School 88 Indices | 167

Hurkes, Alex Ingram, Jaden J., M. Jasiczek, Olive K., A. Kain-Malmberg, Maija Kjer-Lackey, Andrew Kraft, Hazel Krzmarzick, Roman Larson, Reese Laufenberg, Lucy Lee, Eleanor Levin, Sam Levy, Rhianna Lindsley, Esme Lovato, Oliver J. Lyon, Marlene M., C. M., J. Mahamoud, Abdi Miller, Price Mohamed, Ahlam Mulpuru, Jiya N., L. O., D. O., J. Olson, Olivia Otto, Grace Owen, Stella Ozutemiz, Parla Phillips, Emery Rae, Hazel Rapson, Cecelia Reis, Lucas Reisdorf, Walter Ridore, Nelson Rischall, Rosemary Robertson, Hazel Roesner, Frances Rosbolt, Jack(ie) Rupp, Malena Sawaf, Kian El Schaffer, Charlotte Schmidt, Adela 168 | Indices

Gleason Lake Elementary Hillcrest Community School Roseau Secondary Sanford Middle School Red Lake County Central High School Highland Park Middle School Sanford Middle School Gleason Lake Elementary Gleason Lake Elementary Sanford Middle School Highland Park Middle School St. Paul Academy - Lower School Sanford Middle School East Ridge High School St. Anthony Park Elementary School Bailey Elementary School Valley View Middle School Roseau Secondary Roseau Secondary Banaadir Academy Valley View Middle School Sanford Middle School St. Paul Academy - Lower School Creative Arts Secondary School Roseau Secondary Red Lake County Central High School Bailey Elementary School St. Paul Academy - Lower School Sanford Middle School Bailey Elementary School Valley View Middle School Sanford Middle School Sanford Middle School Sanford Middle School Bailey Elementary School Bailey Elementary School St. Paul Academy - Lower School Highland Park Middle School Sanford Middle School Sanford Middle School Highland Park Middle School Meadowbrook Elementary Hillcrest Community School St. Anthony Park Elementary School

67 111 20 148 164 10 60 63 55 160 96 83 87 28 155 154 104 80 136 126 4 26 133 16 78 66 158 102 2 154 34 18 156 144 30 130 99 162 81 23 6 12 118 47

Schwartz, Skylar Siepel’s Class, Mr. Siepel’s Class, Mr. Smith, Giovanni Sowins, Francis Spessard, Cece Taylor, Class Grade 6 Terrones’ Class, Mr. Troutman, Zia Turner, Penelope V., S. Vélez, Emilio McHugh W., E. W., Z. Wallraff, Louise Walz, Zach Ward, Drew Watland, Wren Williamson, Damian Winanz, Gilma Winkels’ Class, Mr. Winscher, Louisa Y., S. Yang, Chloe Yang, Elena G. Y.

Creative Arts Secondary School 79 Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School 53 Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School 166 Bailey Elementary School 62 Justice Page Middle School 58 Gleason Lake Elementary 140 MTS Elementary 164 St. Anthony Park Elementary School 56 St. Anthony Park Elementary School 37 Highland Park Middle School 120 Community of Peace Academy 108 Meadowbrook Elementary 165 Washburn High School 48 Community of Peace Academy 32 Highland Park Middle School 68 Tri-County Secondary School 17 St. Anthony Park Elementary School 147 St. Anthony Park Elementary School 114 Sanford Middle School 64 Fridley Middle School 54 Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary School 116 Gleason Lake Elementary 43 Creative Arts Secondary School 127 Brooklyn Middle STEAM School 128 Highland Park Middle School 91 Community of Peace Academy 24 Community of Peace Academy 138

Indices | 169

Index by School Avalon School

Knox Fredrickson

Bailey Elementary

Vincent Grimstad Gabriel Guida Eleanor Hable Oliver J. Lovato Olivia Olson Parla Ozutemiz Walter Reisdorf Nelson Ridore Giovanni Smith

71 110 123 154 158 154 30 130 62

Banaadir Academy

Nimco Farah Abdi Mahamoud

132 126

Brooklyn Middle STEAM School Le-ticia Greaves Chloe Yang

36 128

Community of Peace Academy

A. C. S. V. Z. W. G. Y.

90 108 32 24 138

Creative Arts Secondary School

L.N. Skylar Schwartz S. Y.

16 79 127

East Ridge High School

Rhianna Levy

Fridley Middle School

Gilma Winanz

Gleason Lake Elementary

Alex Hurkes Hazel Kraft Roman Krzmarzick Cece Spessard Louisa Winscher

67 63 55 140 43

Highland Park Middle School

Ruby Aligada Piper Coleman Maija Kain-Malmberg Lucy Laufenberg Hazel Robertson Malena Rupp Penelope Turner Louise Wallraff Elena Yang

76 44 10 96 162 6 120 68 91

170 | Indices

Hillcrest Community School

Hattie Bauer Henry Faschingbauer Dakota Henderson Jaden Ingram Charlotte Schaffer

142 94 105 111 118

Justice Page Middle School

Jude Huffman Francis Sowins

88 58

Le Sueur-Henderson Elementary Harper Braun S. F. Mrs. Gupton’s Class Aurora Hettinger Lacey Hudspeth Mr. Siepel’s Class Mr. Siepel’s Class Mr. Winkels’ Class

42 98 22 122 106 53 166 116

Meadowbrook Elementary

M. B. June Beier Briah Burrows Kian El Sawaf Emilio McHugh Vélez

43 31 107 12 165

MTS Elementary

Gerzin & Merrell (Grades 2/3) Grimes & Gordon (Grades 4/5) Taylor (Grade 6)

131 124 164

MTS Secondary

Kingston Davis Theresa Gannon

82 95

Red Lake County Central High

Ellie Halverson A. K. J. O.

42 164 66

Roseau Secondary

B. A. M. E. M. J. C. M. J. M. D. O.

74 152 20 80 136 78

Indices | 171

Sanford Middle School

Lisbet Carlson River Downes Maya Harris Olive Jasiczek Andrew Kjer-Lackey Reese Larson Sam Levin Ahlam Mohamed Stella Owen Hazel Rae Cecelia Rapson Lucas Reis Frances Roesner Jack(ie) Rosbolt Damian Williamson

14 86 57 148 60 160 87 26 2 18 156 144 81 23 64

St. Anthony Park Elementary

Martina Gomez Arango Ms. Austin’s Class Ryan “Ben” Backman Mr. Crosby’s Class Esme Lindsley Adela Schmidt Mr. Terrones’ Class Zia Troutman Drew Ward Wren Watland

40 146 125 143 155 47 56 37 147 114

St. Paul Academy - Lower School Otis Ashwood Eleanor Lee Jiya Mulpuru Grace Otto Rosemary Rischall

9 83 133 102 99

Tri-County Secondary School

Eva Hanson Zach Walz

141 17

Valley View Middle School

Beatris Brooks Idris Baxamusa Angela Chen Emerson Hudson Marlene Lyon Price Miller Emery Phillips

100 150 117 84 104 4 34

Washburn High School

E. W.

172 | Indices

Spoken Word Showcase Participants 2025–2026 In January 2025, COMPAS launched its first Youth Spoken Word Showcase, creating a new platform for young people to discover and share their voices through poetry and performance. A second showcase followed in April 2026, continuing the program’s growth and impact. My Voice. My Time! In addition to their poems being included in this publication, the following participants’ performance can be seen by scanning the QR code on the page listed below. Hazel Rae Rhianna Levy E. W. Francis Sowins Knox Fredrickson Sam Levin Jude Huffman Marlene Lyon Lucas Reis Olive Jasiczek

18 28 48 58 50 87 88 104 144 148

Many of these participants first honed their craft through in-school residencies led by COMPAS literary Teaching Artists. All of these performers received coaching from Frank Sentwali. Through these experiences, students strengthened their writing, presentation skills, and self-confidence.

Indices | 173

Anthology Teaching Artists 2025–2026 Charlie Maguire Desdamona Frank Sentwali Jon Lurie Joyce Sidman Kashimana Ahua Katie Knutson Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre Marie Olofsdotter See More Perspective COMPAS works with over 130 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 COMPAS and these Teaching Artists, use the QR code or visit COMPAS.org.

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Anthology Editor 2025–2026 Karlyn Coleman is an award-winning writer, teacher, and teaching artist based in Minneapolis. She is the author of nine YA novels under the pen name K.R. Coleman and two picture books: Where Are All the Minnesotans? and The Great Get-Together. Her short fiction has appeared in journals including Sycamore Review, Water~Stone Review, and McSweeney’s Internet Tendency. A former teacher, bookseller, and publishing professional, she now inspires writers of all ages to discover their voices and believes deeply in the power of stories to connect and build community.

Anthology Artists 2025–2026 Cover artist, Rachel Lee, was a “Best of Painting” award winner for both the 2025 and 2026 COMPAS Emerging Young Artist (EYA) Juried Student Art Shows. Rachel recently graduated from Roseville High School. Quang Do was commissioned for the interior artwork for each section based on his 2026 EYA Student Art Show submissions. Quang attends school at the the Saint Thomas Academy.

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COMPAS Mission and Programs COMPAS delivers creative experiences that unleash the potential within all of us. Our programs occur in both classrooms and the community.

CREATIVE CLASSROOM Creative Classroom Creativity is not owned by the arts, it is taught by them. We connect students from kindergarten to 12th grade with the life-changing power of creativity, reaching over 30,000 school children across Minnesota each year with residencies, workshops and performances. Our skilled Teaching Artists teach professional art techniques, build connections with classroom curriculum, explore history and cultural diversity, and nurture student potential. Access Yes! Catalyzing creativity in all students through the arts. COMPAS works with special education classrooms, schools that specifically serve students with cognitive or physical differences, and or schools that specialize in content tailored toward students with autism or social emotional needs. We aim to give all students the opportunity to benefit from our artists’ attention and expertise.

CREATIVE COMMUNITY 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. 176 | COMPAS and the 47th Anthology

AnyPlace Arts Bringing the arts wherever you are. From libraries to parks and festivals to 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 talented writers, musicians, visual artists and performance artists inspire all ages with hands-on programs throughout Minnesota. For more information on any of these programs contact COMPAS at: 651.292.3249 or info@COMPAS.org COMPAS and the 47th Anthology | 177

COMPAS Staff 2025–2026 Briana Beeman, Intern Frank Sentwali Gardner, Principal Teaching Artist Mia Gifford, Arts Program Associate Amanda Hestwood, Arts Program Director Brittany Keefe, Arts Program Manager Joan Linck, Director of Strategic Development (until 6.12.26) Sam Massaglia, Marketing & Communications Director Katie Schmieg Miller, Arts Program Manager Jes Reyes, Arts Program Manager Elwyn Ruud, Northwest Area Arts Coordinator Julie Strand-Blomgren, Director of Strategic Development Dawne Brown White, Executive Director Christopher Woxland, Finance Manager

COMPAS Board of Directors 2025–2026 Andrew Leizens, President, Strategic Planning Chair Stephen Hawley, PhD, Treasurer, Finance Committee Chair Amy Lucas, Secretary Sonya Smith Šustáček, Vice-President, Development Ryan Kopperud, Marketing Committee Chair Liz Sheets, Past President & H.R. Committee Chair Yvette Trotman, Past President Members at Large: Lindsay Anderson, Iren Bishop, Ann Dayton, Melissa Drwall-Hrad, Jack Fistler, Jessica Gessner, Josh Nelson, James Plesser, Louis Porter III PhD, Margaret (Greta) Rudolph, Anne Tallman, Lauren Thron, Jacob Snyder Timmons Emeritus Members: Cheryl Bock, Jeff Goldenberg, Roderick Hernub Southhall 178 | COMPAS and the 47th Anthology

The Lillian Wright Awards for Creative Writing The Lillian Wright Awards recognize literary achievement among young writers in the COMPAS Creative Classroom Program. Generously underwritten by the Lillian Wright and C. Emil Berglund Foundation, the award winners and their schools are celebrated at the publication event in November along with all the students within these pages. This year’s judge is the anthology’s editor Karlyn Coleman. The 2025–2026 winners are: BEST WRITING, GRADES K–3 “The Night” by Cece Spessard Grade 2, Gleason Lake Elementary, Plymouth

BEST WRITING, GRADES 4–5 “When I Open My Eyes” by Martina Gomez Arango Grade 5, St. Anthony Park Elementary, Saint Paul

BEST WRITING, GRADES 4–5 “Dad” by Grace Otto Grade 5, St. Paul Academy - Lower School, Saint Paul

BEST WRITING, GRADES 6–8 “Us Kids” by Stella Owen Grade 7, Sanford Middle School, Minneapolis

BEST WRITING, GRADES 6–8 “I Didn’t Think It’d Bother Me” by Emerson Hudson Grade 8, Valley View Middle School, Edina

BEST WRITING, GRADES 9–12 “Untitled” by Nimco Farah Grade 12, Banaadir Academy, Minneapolis

BEST COLLABORATIVE WORK: ALL GRADES “No More Dynamite, I Want Flowers” by Vanessa Gerzin and Taylor Merrell’s Class Grades 2 and 3, MTS Elementary, Minneapolis Lillian Wright Awards | 179