Young Wordsmiths 2nd issue 2023

Adventures Of the Imagination

YOUNG WORDSMITHS Young Wordsmiths is the online magazine of Lekha Writing Center.

It is dedicated to publishing writing BY and FOR children.

FOUNDER: JYOTI YELAGALAWADI

Text Copyright by Lekha students as noted in the Lekha Anthologies published by Lekha Publishers LLC. Material in this magazine are drawn from student writings’ from

Lekha Anthologies published over the years as well as from current student writings’ from Lekha Writing Center classes and camps.

Images Used are Copyright Free and Royalty Free.

Shutterstock images have been used in this issue.

Fonts Used: Segoe Print and Baguet Script

FOUNDER’S NOTE Dear friends of Lekha, Summer is upon us Warm days and fun days A time to enjoy A time to learn Let’s create something from nothing Let’s write something new Bring worlds alive As our imaginations soar.

Write4joy !!!!

Love, Jyoti Yelagalawadi.

Founder of Lekha Ink, Corp.

YOUNG WORDSMITHS is a quarterly magazine.

ONLINE ISSN: 2691-7912 Vol 6. No 2 Price: $2.99 EDITOR: Radhika Rajesh Raikar

If you love to write and love telling stories, then please send your submissions to the following email address:

submissions@lekhaink.com

Inside this issue…

Mystery

...Page 6-9

Why you should recycle

...Page 10-11

The perfect society

…Page 12-17

Baseball

...Page 18

The one minute miracle

...Page 19-21

Kizza

…Page 22-23

The golden pen

...Page 24-27

Word games

...Page 28-29

How the frog got its croak

…Page 30-32

How the mice beat the men

…Page 33

World War 2

...Page 34-35

A pig’s journal

...Page 36-39

MYSTERY

BY PRIYANKA BHARGHAVAN, AGE 9, 2012

The alarm clock yelled and screamed that it was 6:00. Time to get ready for school - Another horrible day of fifth grade!

She hated fifth grade because she was the one kid who had

no friends and was teased. Gina got out of bed and got ready. She pulled on her jeans and a purple t-shirt, and then quickly brushed her teeth and long brown hair.

“Morning mom, dad!” Gina cried to her parents and grabbed a donut.

“Good morning dear”, they yelled back.

As Gina walked down the block to the bus station, the wind blew furiously. It blew her pink and orange scarf off. She ran to fetch her knitted scarf and found it near a lamppost. She picked up her scarf, but found a little kitten underneath.

The cat was gray and very dirty. It was very skinny and thin. It’s pleading eyes screamed help. The cat reminded her

of her old cat Pinecone. She remembered how Pinecone trembled and screeched the night she died. At least she died of old age!

She decided that she would take that cat home and care for it. She picked up the fragile creature and wrapped it up in the scarf. The cat meowed half out of pain and half out of

gratitude.

At her house, Gina made sure her parents were gone when she took a bowl, filled it with milk and took it upstairs to her room where the cat was.

She put the milk next to her and watched their cat gulp down the liquid mouthful after mouthful. Gina took a washcloth and dabbed it in water to clean the kitten while she drank the

milk. After she cleaned the cat she put out some pillows for it to sleep on and refilled the bowl with fresh milk and put that next to the pillows. Then she took a box and filled it with grass and dirt for her pet to go to the bathroom in. She watched her curl up on the pillows and purr.

“AH, my little cat,” Gina, said soothingly as she pet the cat,

“You are such a mystery. I’ll name you Mystery”.

“What a tough day at work,” Gina’s dad said as he came through the door.

Fear struck Gina like a lightning bolt. If he knew that she had ditched school without telling him she would be grounded for life. To add to it she was keeping a sick cat hidden in her room.

She tried not to make a sound and hoped that Mystery would keep quiet.

She spent the rest of the day eating left over Halloween candy and reading until her mom came home. She snuck downstairs and pretended to be coming home.

“Mom, I’m home.” Gina yelled trying to act casual.

“Hey sweetie,” mom said. “How was school?”

Gina gave a fake explanation for her day at school. That night Gina heard a door open, but no footsteps. She held her breath hoping it wasn’t her mom or dad calling because they would see Mystery. She lay awake for almost an hour, but grew drowsy and fell asleep.

Beep, beep, beep…Gina woke up yawning and stretched.

She was confused. Why was the alarm clock beeping on a Saturday?

“Good morning Mystery”, Gina whispered and yawned at the same time.

Sunlight poured through the window urging her to wake up.

She slipped on her puffy kitty slippers.

She looked at Mystery’s corner and saw she was gone! She knew she had to do something. Gina raced down the stairs and skidded to a stop by her parents.

“I need to talk to you!” she declared.

Gina explained her predicament in a way that she kept her parents calm, but mad.

They agreed to look for Mystery. The family put out missing signs. Gina feared that Mystery was gone forever. Her eyes filled with tears and her head hung low.

She wore a green shirt, jeans, tennis shoes and a blue and green scarf because her pink and orange one was missing and went jogging outside. Her ponytail swayed side to side.

As she neared the library she found her pink and orange scarf by a lamppost. Hope swelled up inside of her. She picked up the scarf and was delighted when she found a

clean little kitten underneath.

“Mystery” Gina cried loudly, “I found you. Oh, come here, you’re safe now.”

She took Mystery home and took care of her. Her parents loved Mystery too.

WHY YOU SHOULD RECYCLE A PERSUASIVE ESSAY BY NATHAN LUE, AGE 10 Don’t you love a healthy environment? I do!

Pollution is a problem because it hurts all parts of the world.

If you recycle, the whole world will become less polluted. We need to stop throwing away our reusable plastic, paper, and food waste to landfills. Doing this makes the environment and water less polluted because the landfills spill into the ocean and kill animals. We need the marine animals because they keep a balance in the environment. We also need the fish for food.

The consequence of throwing away these reusable items is that there are fewer trees and less plastic and oil that we need to make products. It is already hard to make them in the first place. Reusing materials is good because we take from what we already have instead of using more material

from the environment.

To stop this, all you need to do is recycle bottles and cans, and put your compost in the compost garbage can. When you recycle cans, bottles, and paper, they get remade into different items.

The cans can be made into different products like ornaments for a Christmas tree. Plastic bottles can be made into rugs.

Paper can be made into many different recycled products, like paper bags and shirts. That is all you have to do.

Finally, imagine how life would be in a clean environment and now, imagine how life would be in a dirty environment.

A clean environment would have clean air, water, and many trees. A dirty environment would have no trees, polluted

water, and lots of being affected by it. See the difference?

I imagine that you probably want a healthy environment for your kids. So now go recycle! It’s good for you and for the environment!

THE PERFECT SOCIETY

BY ALLISON DAO, AGE 12, 2015 Having any imperfections was considered a shame and curse.

We were always told that we were all perfect. In fact, we were perfect. Everyone was beautiful or handsome, smart, athletic, and had absolutely no physical imperfections.

Our immune systems were excellent and we did not catch

colds, have allergies, or become sick in general. This was a great improvement, for we had all learned that in the olden days, our kind could be killed by anything. Humans died of cancer, which was incurable back then, along with many other sicknesses. In my entire life, I had not seen anyone with so much as a crooked nose; though many people did have two

different-colored eyes, for that was considered appealing.

Because we were all considered “perfect” we also did not seem at all remotely human, at least not by twenty-first century standards. Though our immune system was almost inhumanely strong, we could still be killed by the blade of a knife or the metal of a bullet, just like during the olden days.

In history classes, we learned that society before our era was a lot different than society now. People would steal things from each other and would kill each other for what they wanted.

Over the years, scientists had managed to figure out how to make everyone perfect, in their eyes. It had started during the time that my great-great-great-great-great grandparents

had been alive.

Everyone had been injected with a special formula the scientists had come up with. I never found out all of the details, but what I do know is that everyone underwent a transformation from the formula and they all suddenly became perfect. After the transformation, they all had the genes and DNA of a “perfect” person. Therefore, when they had kids, their kids would be perfect and have the DNA and genes inside of them

that they could pass onto their kids.

Our society was considered to be perfect. No one was poor, there was complete honesty, and there were no such things as killing or stealing. The governments, being fairly wealthy, kept the streets and public attractions nice and clean. There were many different types of jobs, ones that paid a large amount of

money and some that paid a little less.

Of course, there were different social classes, but they were nice to each other and nobody worried about their health or wealth. Being a part of the medical field or also the law field would make you part of the high class and many would respect you. Though we did not usually have murders or theft, there

were still the occasional disagreements for which lawyers were needed to sort out.

Even though doctors did not do much, they would occasionally see a patient who had cut himself or herself or had gotten a broken bone.

Everyone in our society was perfect, except for me.

My parents were both lawyers and were very high class, though they cared about their appearance a little too much.

They always told me they loved me, but with one look into their eyes I always knew that they wished that I could just be a normal, perfect person like the rest of the people around me.

I sometimes felt very alone in my life, though I had the best of

friends. My three friends would always stick up for me when someone said something about my condition and would always be there for me to talk to when I needed them. Even through all of this I always had my moments every day at night when I felt all alone.

I knew that deep inside, my parents partially didn’t want me,

the government wanted to find out what was wrong with me or get rid of me, and my friends didn’t understand what I was going through. I didn’t believe that there were others just like me with imperfections, but sometimes I would dream about meeting other imperfect people and finally feeling that someone out there understood me.

The soreness of being poked and prodded when I woke up made me grimace. Because of my condition, I would see a doctor almost every week to be examined and tested to find out what was “wrong” with me. Sometimes I felt that there was nothing wrong with me, only a mistake in their science. But other times, I felt that maybe there was something wrong

with me and that fate hated me, just like how sometimes I hated myself.

Getting dressed, I thought about how my parents were normal, perfect people in our society and the rest of my family was too.

But when I was born everything had changed for them.

It all started when one day during the third grade, I felt sick and had to go home. I remember all of my classmates looking at me curiously while I, sweating and ghostly pale shakily made my way out of the classroom. I could see the question in all of their eyes,

“What was wrong with her?”

Since that day scientists have looked at me with hatred, for being an imperfection in their perfect society. Some of my classmates have never looked at me the same either. The only three that stuck by me besides my family were my current friends, Maggie, Trevor, and Elizabeth. Only my grandparents always told me

that they were proud of me and looked at me with true love, not longing for another person, or sadness over an imperfection. I was sometimes bullied at school and people would make offhanded comments about me when the subject came up.

Making my way downstairs, I took a deep breath and readied myself to greet my parents. Putting on a happy smile every

morning was very tiring. That day started out normal, but it would turn into one that I remembered forever.

School went as usual, and it was an average afternoon until I came home and noticed that both of my parent’s cars were still there and there was a government car parked right in front of our house. Suspicious, I decided to not let them know that I had

come home.

I snuck in through my open bedroom window. I always left it

open in case of emergencies. Tiptoeing down the stairs, I pressed my ear to the wall and tuned into their conversation. I heard my name a couple of times and tried to concentrate harder on their conversation.

I then heard the words, “…problem to society... we have to do something about her… do away with?” Letting out a soft gasp, I

turned and ran back into my room, not wanting to hear more.

They were going to kill me?

I had known that being an imperfection was bad, but never had I thought that it was so bad that they would have to kill me. I suddenly hated the world more than ever.

I suddenly started to wonder how they would kill me.

An accidental car crash? Or just taking the easy way out and having someone “kidnap” me and kill me that way? Either way I would end up dead.

My anger turned towards the government, who only cared about whether or not our society was “perfect” and how they

loved to have control over everything; our lives, education, and almost everything else.

My anger morphed into extreme sadness. I wished that there were others like me who had to experience what I experienced every day. Feeling alone was never a fun feeling, but this time, the reality hit me with force, and I started to weep. After

about two hours of soaking my pillows, I grew tired and let myself drift off into a soundless sleep.

That night, I dreamed about being perfect and normal and how

it must be like to have everyone like you and smile at you with true kindness in their eyes.

I dreamed about making my parents truly proud and having more than three friends. However, a good dream can never just stay good, and it eventually turned into a nightmare.

The people who looked at me with kindness suddenly glared at me with hatred and disgust. My parents gave me a look that told me they wondered how they had gotten so unlucky and my friends were all looking at me with pity. Suddenly I heard the squealing of tires and turned around, just in time to see a big, black van barreling towards me. I couldn’t move. As it came closer, I heard a high-pitched scream pierce the air.

Realizing it was me, I started to panic, as the van came even closer. Suddenly, I bolted up in bed, sweating and panting.

What a nightmare, I thought, then I suddenly remembered the recent events. Walking into my bathroom I started to think of ways to avoid being killed and to find other people like me in the world. Then, I suddenly got it, I would run away.

BASEBALL AN ACROSTIC POEM BY ERIC ZHU, AGE 8, 2015

Bats are what you swing A sport is what it is.

Starts in April, ends in October.

Every day in the season, there is a game.

Balls are what you hit.

American League and National League are the leagues.

Ladies don’t play in the MLB. Loved by many Americans.

THE ONE-MINUTE MIRACLE A NARRATIVE ESSAY BY ADITI CHATRADHI, AGE 9, 2013 One minute left, just one minute. In one minute, the champions of the girls’ fifth and sixth grade Reno AAU tournament would be decided. This was one of the most crucial games, and my team, Shark City Hoops, was losing.

Thirty one minutes ago, we were warming up. I watched the other team practice their defense. The girls on the YBA Panthers, the team we would be playing against, were stronger and much taller than us. I felt like an ant standing next to their shortest player. I could feel the tension radiating off my teammates. Even Sharon, who always smiled, had a very serious face. Maybe it was the heat

that was snaking its way through the Reno-Sparks Convention Center.

A minute before the game started we had a team huddle and Coach Ron told us the game plan. “We came all the way here and we aren’t going to turn back. Since they are taller, we are going to do full-court press,” he explained. It was going to be a long game.

Eight minutes before, the score had been 36-16. The Panthers

had been crushing us by twenty points! Every time they scored, the weight on my shoulders became heavier.

Then Coach Ron put our starting five in. The starting five played together as aggressively as monsters. Slowly our score built itself up. When it was four minutes into the fourth quarter, the score was 47-44. We had a chance to win, but it was not going to be

easy.

“Anissa!” Sharon yelled from down the court. “Pass it to me!” As Anissa was about to pass the ball, a huge girl on the Panthers pushed her over. I picked up the ball, passed it to Sharon, and ran behind her. A few minutes later, Sharon shot a threepointer. The ball swished through the net like an eagle soars

through the air, but Sharon was pushed to the ground. Both Sharon and Anissa were injured and couldn’t play for the rest of the game.

One minute left. Sharon and Anissa, two of our best players, were injured and I was about to shoot free throws. After Sharon shot the three-pointer, the score was 47-47. I tried to shoot a

two-pointer, but I was fouled. The fate of the game was in my hands now.

If I made these two shots, we had a chance at winning.

I concentrated on the shot.

I could hear the crowd cheering for both the teams. One side was shouting “Sharks!” and the other, “Panthers!”

Slowly, I released the ball. It bounced off the rim. I felt horrible

inside, but then I remembered my second shot. I set my feet and released the ball. The swish echoed through the silence of the gym. The Sharks’ crowd erupted in a loud roar. We quickly ran to defend.

I could hear the crowd chant: “5, 4, 3, 2,…” as a girl from the Panthers shot a two-pointer. My heart stopped. The ball went

into the hoop, but popped back out. Brrrng! The buzzer went off. We were champions. My team jumped around me.

“Champions!” we yelled, as we ran around the court. Then we smiled widely as we received our trophies.

KIZZA

BY KARISSA CHOI< AGE 9, 2015

Kizza, the zebra who lives at the zoo, is very attractive. She’s the only zebra in the zoo, and is very hyperactive. She sings

zebra songs on Saturday evenings, and she can do tricks too.

Now, Kizza is not so smart, but she’s getting there. One of her fans gave her lessons about how to be smart.

“Over here, over here, Kizza,” someone calls out. Kizza turns to the person and sees her favorite zoo-keeper, Katelyn. Fans

crowd the fence. They throw mangoes and berries on the floor for Kizza to eat. Kizza appreciates it. Today is very hot.

Everyone is practically sweating. The ice cream man is running out of soda and ice cream. Everyone is crowding around a gigantic fan. Eight years ago, someone mistakenly bought an extra-extra-large fan, so that person gave it to

the zoo. It has been there ever since.

Someone shouts out, “Do you want autographs from Kizza?

Line up here and pay $2.10 for two autographs!” Someone brings Kizza out, and Kizza starts stamping her hoof in ink and pressing it on paper. Poor Kizza! She does autographs for five hours straight. Katelyn tries to help, but there are too many people. Finally, at night when everyone is gone, it is time for Kizza’s night walk with Katelyn.

All of a sudden, a wolf jumps out from behind a clump of trees and bites Kizza on the leg. Blood gushes out. Katelyn calls 911, and is worried.

She is not afraid for herself, because she has a tranquilizer gun with her. She feels lucky she has not been bitten, but feels sorry for Kizza. Animal Control comes very quickly.

They put Kizza onto the truck, and Katelyn feels sad but doesn’t cry. Kizza’s wound is not too deep, because she had been kicking her leg when the wolf bit it.

The next day, word gets out about Kizza’s injury. The zoo has a lot fewer visitors. The ice cream man almost loses his business. The wolf is taken to Africa and released into the

wild. Kizza is stuck in the recovery room for one month, and after a while, all of Kizza’s fans come to visit her.

Katelyn continues working at the zoo, but at night she visits Kizza. When Kizza finally gets better, everything goes back to the way it was, and everyone gives her presents. The popular zebra even gets her own five-hundred dollar leather

box full of “Get Well” cards.

THE GOLDEN PEN

BY GRACE YU, AGE 8, 2014

I’m Bucket. My body looks mostly human, but I have a bucket as a head. My parents like me. I also just turned eleven a few weeks ago, and I live in a small town.

As I went downstairs this morning, my dad was reading the morning paper. I started reading an announcement on the back of the paper, “That gold pen from Golden Gifts was stolen

yesterday.” You may enter a contest and whoever solves this mystery first will get their picture in our local paper and get rewarded that golden pencil from Golden Gifts. I was definitely going to compete!

After breakfast, I left my house and biked to Golden Gifts to sign up. When I got there, I found out that there were going to

be two other contestants, a boastful bird named Feather and a one-foot tall girl who was in my class last year called Miniate.

We were each shown the clue that the police had found, the single fingerprint on the shiny metal pen case.

I used my camera to take a picture of it. Later I would bring it to the police station and see if they could identify it. It turned

out our police didn’t have that fingerprint.

On the way back to my house, I saw Miniate heading to the new office supply store. I would go there later.

First, I would need to go to my room to do some research.

After I logged onto my laptop I went onto the Golden Gift’s website. I found the place advertising the golden pen and clicked on the advertisement. That brought me to a page showing all kinds of information about the pen, including a list of people who had offered a price to buy it. I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled all the names onto the paper. They were; Bob Person, Pen Wright, Sky Cloud and Venus Space.

I knew who Pen Wright was. She was rich! Really rich! And she had been in my class last year. I decided to go to her house. I started biking out toward her house when I looked up and saw Feather. Feather was apparently following me. I stopped.

Feather flew into a tree. I went backwards a little. So did Feather. She was cheating.

I had an idea. I stopped and strapped my camera to my bikes’ handlebars. I used the masking tape I had in my backpack.

When I arrived at Pens house, I took off my camera and stuffed it back into my backpack.

I knocked on Pens front door and she opened the door, “Hi Bucket!” she said.

I asked, “Did you make an offer for that pen in Golden Gifts?”

Pen replied, “Yah, and I got it in the mail yesterday! It’s so

cool! Do you want to see it?”

“Sure, but can I see the address of the guy who sent it?” I asked, feeling I was getting close to solving the mystery.

“Okay”, Pen said, giving me a funny look. I read the address and put it down in my notebook, Bob Person, 1650 Raven Ave., Saratoga, CA 95131 “Thanks! Got to go!” I said.

I remembered Bob Person was one of the people who had bid for the pen. On the way to Bob’s house, I stopped at Golden Gifts and showed Carnia, the judge of the contest, my video of Feather following me. Carnia frowned and said disapprovingly, ‘Feather will have to be disqualified.”

She called Feather and told her to go to Golden Gifts. Feather

soon arrived and so did Miniate, also with a video of Feather following her. Carnia told Feather she was disqualified and Feather stormed out of the store cursing in bird language.

Now only Miniate and I were competing.

I continued on to Bob’s house, and knocked on the door. Bob came and asked me what I wanted.

“I’m here to sell pens”, I said quickly making an excuse.

I grabbed a handful of pens I had with my name on them.

While Bob was deciding, I looked into what appeared to be his living room. I saw the gold tea set that was specially made for Golden Gifts and had also been stolen some time ago. This time I used my cellphone camera and took a picture of Bob

with the tea set in the background. Bob decided not to buy any pens from me and I decided to go straight to Carnia.

I biked to Golden Gifts and told Carnia all that happened.

She called 911 and the police made Bob confess. Then Bob had to give back the tea set and the money for the pen to Golden Gifts and Bob went to jail.

Carnia told me I won and rewarded me the gold pencil. Oh, my gosh, I felt so proud and excited! Finally, she called the newspaper team and just when they arrived so did Minate.

Miniate had also solved the mystery, but I solved it first. We both got our picture in the paper. That was one of my best days ever.

HOW THE FROG GOT ITS CROAK

BY ADVIKA DEODHAR< AGE 8, 2015

Long ago frogs weren’t able to croak. They could just make weird sounds like an emu.

There once was a frog that was very lazy. He laid on a lily pad looking at the sky, wondering what he should do next. He was holding his stomach because he just ate a whole bunch of flies.

The frog was very bored of gazing at the sky, so he set off on an adventure. He passed some poison ivy in the rainforest, where he met a crocodile. Splash splash splash! The crocodile came closer. “Help!” cried the frog. But nobody could hear him because he made really weird sounds. Luckily a monkey was in the tree above and heard the frog. He shook the tree,

so a coconut fell on the crocodile’s head.

It worked! The coconut fell right onto the crocodile’s head and to the monkey’s surprise the coconut split right in half and all of the coconut water spilled out! Both the monkey and the frog laughed until the crocodile left and went to the deep end of the river.

The monkey climbed down the coconut tree and said “Hi, my name is Jobo.”

“My name is Leap,” said the frog. “Thanks a lot, you saved my life!”

“Oh, that was nothing,” said Jobo. “What were you doing down there?”

“Oh, I was just going on an adventure because I was tired of eating flies and gazing at the sky.”

“Well, I have to go now. My family might be looking for me. It’s time for us to split bananas for our picnic!”

Leap was very surprised. He had never heard of a monkey who went on picnics.

Something was wrong with Leap. His throat was growing bigger! It looked like there was a tennis ball stuffed inside!

He just didn’t notice it. So, he went on.

Leap saw a very interesting leaf shaped like a giraffe. He was very curious, so he leaped right on to the leaf. For a moment nothing happened. But as he tried to get off he

noticed that his feet were stuck to the leaf!

After a second, everything started spinning. Leap realized that this leaf was magical! After a while the spinning stopped and he ended up in the African savanna! He found out that he was stuck in a tree and a giraffe was about to eat him!

“AAAAAAAAAH!” The giraffe was pulling on Leaf’s throat and Leap screamed for his life and he suddenly croaked! He was very surprised. He could croak loudly and clearly! And everyone could hear him!

He said thanks to the giraffe and asked if he would do this to other frogs and the giraffe said, “Sure.”

Leap found the same leaf and went back to the forest. On his way home he asked the monkey if he could throw more

coconuts onto the crocodile. He went home and told his family what had happened.

Soon all of the frogs in the rainforest lined up single file, waiting for their turn. So from that day on every frog in the world could croak!

HOW THE MICE BEAT THE MEN

BY ISAAC LIU, AGE 7, 2014 The mice and the men were very much alike. They lived in the same house. They ate the same food. But they did not like each other at all.

So one day the men and the mice decided to have a war.

Before the war, the men did a dance. The men made

bows and arrows, slingshots, canons, and rock volts. The men were tired, so they took a nap.

Meanwhile, the mice chewed on everything the men had made. When the men woke up in the morning, they were surprised. They had nothing left to fight with, and so the mice had won the war.

WORLD WAR 2 AN INFORMATIVE SPEECH

BY MARUT YELAGALAWADI, AGE 9, 2013

World War 2 started at 10:34 local time in Poland, 1939, September 1st.

Nazi forces were sent by Adolf Hitler, a German dictator.

Then the Japanese government and Italian dictator Benito Mussolini joined Hitler to build the Axis Powers. Most of Europe was under German control. The Nazis took over

Germany, France, Holland, and other countries. Hitler was a very good orator. He used this to his advantage and urged the Germans to fight against these countries.

In 1941 Italy surrendered. The Japanese bombed Hawaii and this resulted in the United States entering the world war against the Axis Powers. The Allies were Russia,

America, The United Kingdom, and France.

On June 6, 1944, the Allies invaded German-0ccupied France. The allied invasion was called “D-Day.” It was the deadliest conflict of history. After that, the Soviets attacked Berlin.

Hitler committed suicide, and on May 7th, 1945, Germany surrendered.

But the Americans were still engaged in a battle with Japan.

The Americans dropped two atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Japan surrendered. That was the end of World War 2.

The Second World War was a terrible war. Many people died and a lot of places were damaged. But the nations also came

together to try to envision a more peaceful world at a global level.

A PIG’S JOURNAL

MY DAY AT THE DENTISTS’

BY ARIANNA ZHAO, AGE 11, 2023 Hello there. My name is Josie, and I am a pig if you couldn’t tell already. However, many people seem annoyed when I am around (so it’s a pretty safe bet that I’m the source of their

annoyance) and call me Angry Josie the pig. DO NOT THINK THAT I CANNOT HEAR YOU, EVERYBODY WHO CALLS ME

ANGRY JOSIE THE PIG! Anyways, my psychologist - she’s the only one who’s a pig nobody knows her name, everybody just calls her the Good Minded Pig - told me that my “anger issues” would lower if I

wrote in a journal. So here I am. (By the way, I think the Rude Minded Pig suits her better…)

Today is my first trip to the dentists’. Unfortunately, pigs don’t have dentists, so we have to go into the people’s world to get our teeth checked.

Many dentists don’t allow pigs, so my Mother finally found one who is perfectly content with treating a pig. The good news is, us pigs don’t have to do a dentist appointment for every 3 human years, since we mature differently.

I was very reluctant to go. Finally, my mother and I arrived at the dentist's office.

My dentist was a pretty girl with long hair, a white cloak, blue gloves, and a blue piece of fabric that covered her nose

and mouth. She told me to lay down in a comfy leather bed looking platform, and asked me what TV show I wanted to watch.

Oh my, this is going to be great, I thought. The show I chose was Peppa Pig, of course. And those of you out there that say Peppa Pig is for little kids only, YOU ARE WRONG!

Just as I was actually getting excited about this appointment, the pretty dentist told me to open my mouth. Then, she took a little silver stick with a little mirror on the end. Petite, I guess you could call it.

And guess what she did? She stuck it right in my mouth, and started looking inside! How rude…

Afterwards, she took out a thin piece of string from a rectangular box and put the string between my teeth. I was so surprised, I almost bit her hand off! When she took it out, the middle of the string was all yucky and yellow.

But what was worse, was then she said, “Josie, you have to take better care of your teeth, by flossing!”

She handed my mother a box of string.

On the screen, when Peppa pig was planting a garden, the dentist took out a toothbrush. It looked just like the one I kept at home behind the sink, but it had a long piece of white wire connected to it, and a button on the wire. She put some white toothpaste on it, and put it on my teeth.

I expected my teeth to feel shiny and clean afterwards, but my first reaction was: EWWWWWWWW! I looked at my Mother as if demanding: “WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME THIS WAS COMING?!”

The toothpaste was so sour, I wanted to spit it right out.

Finally, the brushing stopped, and the dentist took out a tube full of bubbles and stuck it in my mouth. I expected it to be some x-ray or some other fancy human tech, but all of a sudden, the dentist pressed a button. The next thing I knew, water was shooting into my mouth.

It felt so horrible, with water mixed with sour toothpaste, that I choked and spat the water right out. It landed on the dentists’ fancy white cloak!

A clock on the wall read 2:48. My appointment ended at 3:00. Almost done, I thought with relief. Little did I know that the worst would come soon enough.

The pretty dentist asked me whether I liked mint flavor or bubble-gum flavor better. I chose bubble gum. Then, she took a tube that said “bubble gum”, unscrewed it, and put it on a mini-medical tissue, and dabbed it on my teeth. I

hoped it would taste like bubblegum, but the feeling inside my mouth was horrible! It was like somebody just smeared peanut butter on our teeth - a pig's worst fear.

That one hour of “teeth treatment” gave me a very bad impression of a dental office. The dentist didn’t even give me a prize at the end, because she said I still had a lot

to improve with flossing and brushing! And let me just say that I left the dental office in very bad spirits.