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THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2018
The Rockaway Times
LESSONS IN LOVE FROM THE FIFTHGRADE WRITERS OF PS/MS 114 Shining through the windows, bursting through the rafters, smiling from every face in every classroom, PS/ MS 114 is wall-to-wall love. And, just as important as its excellent academic environment, is this love that makes our kids warm, secure, confident and eager to learn. In our school, it’s Valentine’s Day, every day! Love is all we need, - Mrs. Diehl PAYTON SHERIDAN The words of rage roll off my sister’s tongue. The beastly words cut my heart like a knife. The sleeping dragon inside me awakens. A protective shield, separating the dragon and the world, bursts like a bubble and the dragon breaks free. It fires its daggered words back. The dragon grows angrier and angrier until the words it fires back could make the Hulk bawl like a baby. I see the tears well up in me and the victim of my attack dragon. All of a sudden, the dragon shrinks down to the size of a penny and I try to apologize, but it’s too late. The damage is done. The heartbroken look on my sister’s face makes me want to cry. The sorrow I feel could fill an entire ocean. The dragon falls back into a deep slumber only to awaken again when heart-breaking words reach its den. And when they do, the dragon will sling-shot wretched words back at its target. My hope and my dream is to slay the dragon living inside of me. Then its evil powers will never hurt my sister or anyone else again. Valentine’s Day is coming around and I want some of its magic to be sprinkled on me and my sister so we can be as close as we were when we were little. I want my old pal, my partner in crime, but most importantly my best friend to make me happy again. I want to make her happy, again. Maddy, I love you to the moon and back. Happy Valentine’s Day!
AYDIN AKCIN Strange, dark clouds shadow above me when I hear the female dragon’s deafening calls for dinner. A storm is forming with lightning strikes, and a twister brings Thunder as his “plus-one.” My blood is pumping inside my veins. My head is pounding, and I want to let the Lightning and Thunder scream. And if I let it scream, it will say, “Mom, give me more time on my iPad!” But I know better than to talk back to my mother. For the millionth time I let the dragon win, and slowly I close the screen in front of me. I walk the walk of shame to plug in my iPad in the kitchen, where a rotisserie chicken is waiting for me. When I finish my agitating homework, one of the things that darkens my day, I get my pot of gold at the end of my rainbow. I get to watch whatever I want on my iPad. But day after day, I realize that I am addicted. Is that the way I want to spend my evenings every day? “Yes, I love it,” says my devil. “No. It’s not healthy. Plus, you’re not gaining anything,” says my mom and the angel that fights my devil inside. Should I stop staring at a screen for a whole afternoon, or keep going? For days a debate goes on in my own court called, “The Brain.” Sometimes when the dragon screams, “Dinner!,” the judge at my court starts slamming the gavel, “Order, order!”; my head starts pounding. The days of trying to solve this case turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months; yet, deep down, I know my Mom is right and her advice comes from her love for me. Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom! I love you, too. SEAN WODZANOWSKI If a tornado had a seizure or a chunk of the world were in a blender, the destruction would never compare to the destruction of my feelings when
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life-changing moments occur. Adapting to those moments would help my life move along more easily. When my Nana passed away, instead of her life flashing before her eyes, I saw ours. We were at the beach, collecting shells with ridges down the edges. The shell broke suddenly — just like my heart did when she wasn’t there anymore. As that memory faded, another knocked on the door of my heart. Opening the door, I saw droplets of chocolate syrup causing the pure, white milk to go into a creamy brown. Still drinking it today, it reminds me of Nana since she made chocolate milk for me every day. Like it was her blood, it kept her life going on in me. Letting go of a loved one was hard, but giving away a house filled with fragile memories was harder than getting over my fear of rollercoasters. In other words, my brain is a china closet while my memories play the role of china. The china is packed in tight, ready to burst out. Bursting out would cause them to break and I’d lose these memories forever. If I hadn’t moved from Brooklyn to Queens it wouldn’t be packed so tightly. I’d be able to put them back together because that’s where they were made. Having my memories in a safe that only my heart could open would have serious impact on adapting to changes in my life. I still mourn the death of my ancestors. I still grieve the day that I moved. With Valentine’s Day coming up, my heart will be pouring out all my memories of love. NICHOLAS LANGELLA I used to have a problem, I couldn’t write. It was almost like all odds were against me. I thought I was cursed. Whenever I even tried to write, something went wrong. Either my pencil broke or my paper ripped. It was like a sign from God. Like he was whispering in
my ear for me to quit. The only problem for Him is I don’t quit. And, I’m not going to quit until I get my writing grade up to 4.5. This was my dream, and according to Walt Disney, “If you can dream it, you can do it.” So now, when I sit down to write, I sharpen a few pencils, and get out a clean, shiny piece of extra paper, which reminds me of the ice at the hockey rink, just after the Zamboni finishes and just before I jump onto the rink to skate. More importantly, I take some time to think about what I’m going to write. Like a builder, I gather my tools and make plans before I start the job. That way, I don’t get mixedup or confused. Oh, and one more thing I do before I start to write, I ask God for inspiration. It can’t hurt to have Him on my side. Then, it almost seems as if the pencil is writing itself. My thoughts take on a life of their own, and the pencil records it all. It’s as if I’m sitting beside myself watching me become a great writer. Well, I’m not a great writer yet, but maybe someday... Not too long ago, I had this experience when I wrote my poem, “On The Ice.” The words just flowed like I do when I’m on ice skates. I was the most surprised guy when I learned that the poem is going to be published. So, it’s Valentine’s Day and when I think about the things I love, I think about writing. JOYCE LIN “Um…thanks?” I murmured, forcing a smile. I guess the “Um...” part gave it away. My grandma looked hurt. “No, no, no!,” I quickly explained. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I like your gift — um, no wait — I mean I will like it when I open it.” I sighed as I replayed that scene in my head every time I looked at the tiny black box. My grandma gave it to me the day before, but I hadn’t touched it since. I don’t know why, but it Continued on page 38