Student Anthology 2010

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The Park School

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The Park School 171 Goddard Avenue Brookline, Massachusetts 02445

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Anthology 2010

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The Park School

Anthology 2010

The Park School 171 Goddard Avenue Brookline, Massachusetts 02445

NON-PROFIT U.S. POSTAGE PAID STOUGHTON,MA PERMIT NO. 160

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Many whose writings and drawings appear here will be surprised to see themselves in print. Still others who have nothing in this anthology will be disappointed. Only a part of what I received could be included, and I regret I had to exclude so much. To select short stories, poems, and drawings for an anthology spanning writers who range in age from three to fifteen is not easy. By the selections which appear here I have tried to reach for both diversity and excellence.

John Shaw Founding Editor Park School Anthology 1966

Flying

I feel on top of the world and full of sensation Sailboat block print Derek Simshauser ’12 Grade VII

In the sky like a giant constellation

The air is pulling me out of my mind

Making me feel like one of a kind

I can see the world from up above

At the same time I see a beautiful dove

The wind and I are a perfect pair

Mr. Putput Leaves are falling, and Mr. Miller is outside again, brushing them off his perfectly manicured lawn. His dark, balding hair brushes over his head as he looks to see who is walking up to my door. As usual, it is my family, two generations of Curtin culture, but he seems surprised by this every time and quietly says through his mustache, “Hello.”

My mother replies with a “Hello” or a “How are you?” or maybe even a “Isn’t the weather lovely” and walks inside. Carl looks away and continues his work. He rides around on his lonely lawnmower for a while and then goes inside his squat blue house.

From my room I can see his TV turn on to some kind of police drama, and his car pulls out. The boxy orange car trundles down the road and takes a left. He’s headed to his usual post at the end of the main road.

The TV stays on the whole time he is out, blaring nonsense words through the opened window as if to prove someone lives there.

Mr. Miller is at the Dunkin’ Donuts, sipping coffee and making small talk, 99% of the conversation he has each day. The workers there, though they change often, all know him by name.

His oil slick of hair could have a connection to his old job as an employee of an oil company. His company truck used to putput-put down the street, grumbling down the road to his favorite destination. As small children, my sister and I would hear my grandfather say, as soon as the car went by, “There goes Mr. Putput.”

Now that I’m older, I realize that the name not only had to do with his car, but his personality itself. Puttering around with his lawn, his gleaming car, and his front walkway, Mr. Miller is a very puttery man. Every once in a while, his two grown daughters visit with their children, and soon the smell of American barbeque fills the air. His grandchildren scamper about and shriek as they tear up precious pieces of his pampered grass. I always notice him taking a little extra time the next day as he waters his earthy carpet.

Mr. Miller returns from his trip to Dunkin’ Donuts, branded coffee cup in hand. His car backs into his driveway. He sets the styrofoam cup onto the top of his car and bends down over his everyday blue jeans to clear a leaf. A lawn, like a schedule, is never perfect. But his is.

Making me feel at home in a windy lair

O.J. Cruz ’15 Grade IV

Faculty Editors: Maria Alvarez and Andrea Sparks Special thanks to: Kate LaPine, Alison Connolly, and the Technology Department

Ariane Curtin-Bowen ’11 Grade VIII

dedication page artwork: Hand-Drawn Poster of Book Titles from Phyllis Ong’s classroom (Dragon character from the book, The Mysterious Misadventures of Foy Rin Jin: A Decidedly Dysfunctional Dragon, story by Jim Friedman, illustrated by Patti Stren.)

front cover artwork: Windmill Schema pencil Griffin Seeley ’10 Grade IX

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back cover artwork Moped with Rider pencil Griffin Seeley ’10 Grade IX

back cover artwork Moped pencil Padraig Sullivan ’10 Grade IX

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Many whose writings and drawings appear here will be surprised to see themselves in print. Still others who have nothing in this anthology will be disappointed. Only a part of what I received could be included, and I regret I had to exclude so much. To select short stories, poems, and drawings for an anthology spanning writers who range in age from three to fifteen is not easy. By the selections which appear here I have tried to reach for both diversity and excellence.

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Flying

I feel on top of the world and full of sensation Sailboat block print Derek Simshauser ’12 Grade VII

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In the sky like a giant constellation

The air is pulling me out of my mind

Making me feel like one of a kind

I can see the world from up above

At the same time I see a beautiful dove

The wind and I are a perfect pair

Mr. Putput Leaves are falling, and Mr. Miller is outside again, brushing them off his perfectly manicured lawn. His dark, balding hair brushes over his head as he looks to see who is walking up to my door. As usual, it is my family, two generations of Curtin culture, but he seems surprised by this every time and quietly says through his mustache, “Hello.”

My mother replies with a “Hello” or a “How are you?” or maybe even a “Isn’t the weather lovely” and walks inside. Carl looks away and continues his work. He rides around on his lonely lawnmower for a while and then goes inside his squat blue house.

From my room I can see his TV turn on to some kind of police drama, and his car pulls out. The boxy orange car trundles down the road and takes a left. He’s headed to his usual post at the end of the main road.

The TV stays on the whole time he is out, blaring nonsense words through the opened window as if to prove someone lives there.

Mr. Miller is at the Dunkin’ Donuts, sipping coffee and making small talk, 99% of the conversation he has each day. The workers there, though they change often, all know him by name.

His oil slick of hair could have a connection to his old job as an employee of an oil company. His company truck used to putput-put down the street, grumbling down the road to his favorite destination. As small children, my sister and I would hear my grandfather say, as soon as the car went by, “There goes Mr. Putput.”

Now that I’m older, I realize that the name not only had to do with his car, but his personality itself. Puttering around with his lawn, his gleaming car, and his front walkway, Mr. Miller is a very puttery man. Every once in a while, his two grown daughters visit with their children, and soon the smell of American barbeque fills the air. His grandchildren scamper about and shriek as they tear up precious pieces of his pampered grass. I always notice him taking a little extra time the next day as he waters his earthy carpet.

Mr. Miller returns from his trip to Dunkin’ Donuts, branded coffee cup in hand. His car backs into his driveway. He sets the styrofoam cup onto the top of his car and bends down over his everyday blue jeans to clear a leaf. A lawn, like a schedule, is never perfect. But his is.

Making me feel at home in a windy lair

O.J. Cruz ’15 Grade IV

Faculty Editors: Maria Alvarez and Andrea Sparks Special thanks to: Kate LaPine, Alison Connolly, and the Technology Department

Ariane Curtin-Bowen ’11 Grade VIII

dedication page artwork: Hand-Drawn Poster of Book Titles from Phyllis Ong’s classroom (Dragon character from the book, The Mysterious Misadventures of Foy Rin Jin: A Decidedly Dysfunctional Dragon, story by Jim Friedman, illustrated by Patti Stren.)

front cover artwork: Windmill Schema pencil Griffin Seeley ’10 Grade IX

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back cover artwork Moped with Rider pencil Griffin Seeley ’10 Grade IX

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back cover artwork Moped pencil Padraig Sullivan ’10 Grade IX

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The 2010 edition of the Park School Anthology is dedicated to Phyllis Ong. For many years, Phyllis Ong has created colorful posters for her second grade classroom. These posters, painstakingly drawn with intricate, hand-colored fonts in the style of each book’s cover, act as a visual reminder of the books that the class has read and enjoyed together. Countless students will remember Mrs. Ong for her love of reading, her delight in details, her tradition of creating a silhouette of each second grade student, and her fabulous collection of earrings. Thank you, Mrs. Ong, for instilling a love of reading, writing, art, and a great appreciation of colonial history and craftwork in the community. We dedicate this year’s edition of the Anthology with respect and best wishes to you.

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Zebra painting Abby Wright ’15 Grade IV

Watering Hole painting Katherine Mitchell ’13 Grade VI

Tarantulas Even though tarantulas look bad, they don’t usually harm people. Tarantulas catch grasshoppers, beetles and other small desert animals. They use venom or poison to kill their prey. The venom often paralyzes the animal they are trying to catch. They also can release stomach hairs that have irritating oils, and their saliva liquefies the prey so they can digest it. The tarantula is an amazing animal because of its great ability to attack prey and defend itself.

Sujay Jain ’16 Grade III

Bees The bees got angry when Minni started sniffing at the metal cage that they were in. None of the bees out of the cage came near her because they were too interested in freeing the queen. The buzzing intensified until it sounded like an electric engine. I then grabbed Minni by the collar and turned her around. When we got to the cabin, we left the bees in the car because they needed shade and heat.

Uncle Chris and Auntie Lena got to the cabin and the process of taking out some of the hive began. First, we took out half of the honeycomb in the hive, and some of the space was filled by a watery mixture of sugar and water. It got all over me. I put on the bee suit and lifted the three-pound box of about 1,500 bees. As I walked, the trees swayed and swished like they were encouraging me. When Maddy, Uncle Chris, Auntie Lena, Mom, Minni, and I got to the hive, I put down the box. My Dad started spraying the bees with water so they couldn’t fly, and then I split the top off. Craaack! The wood flew off the box, and there was the can of food. Under that was the key to the hive. The queen.

J.J. Batt ’14 Grade V

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Haiku

Basket yarn Jonathan Breitbart ’17 Grade II

Blossom beautiful Pink, white, swarming. No more. Gone.

Falling, let it go.

James Bell ’14 Grade V

The Fox Journey

Red Fox Diorama mixed media Elizabeth Crawford ’19 Kindergarten

One day a small kid named Sly Fox was going to go on a walk. His dad told him not to go deep into the forest. The boy heard voices in the forest, so he followed them. He saw men there and saw that they were holding something gold. Then he realized something; he had wandered into the deep woods. When he looked back, the men were not there. He forgot how to get home. Sly Fox was scared, so he decided to stay up all night. He heard a sound and looked everywhere. He saw a bird-shaped figure in a tree and realized it was a crow. The crow magically said, “Come with me.” So Sly Fox did. Sly Fox ran after the crow and saw the crow dart into a tree. Sly Fox did, too, and he was inside a tree. He saw what looked like a shelf, and on the shelf was a case that looked like a space to place a key. The crow said, “Our key has been taken. Will you help us retrieve it?” Sly Fox said yes and went closer to the crow. The crow told him to close his eyes and not move. Then Sly Fox felt a tingle in his body. He was not in the woods. Sly Fox remembered the golden thing the men were carrying. Then he noticed he was a crow! He started flying and landed right next to the village. He peeked in every house, and when he came to the last house, he saw the men. He made an alarming sound and then hopped into the house, grabbed the key, and flew through the smoke hole and went back to the tree. Without hesitating, he darted into the tree and landed on the floor. He gave the key to the crow. The crow asked Sly Fox if he wanted to stay a crow, and Sly Fox said yes. The crow said, “Thank you for retrieving our key.”

Caleb Coleman ’16 Grade III

Frog painting Grady Hayes ’15 Grade IV

Mask clay Jonathan Zou ’13 Grade VI

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Mallard Duck crayon Arjun Raja ’19 Kindergarten Rain text and illustration Alaina Cherry ’17 Grade II

Of… I sing of dreams of when my head hits my pillow of fantasy I dream of surfing Waves crashing to the shore swiftly I speak of swinging from rope to lake, clinging and splashing My dream…

Lilly Gifford ’14 Grade V

I see rain fall.

When I am drawing outside, The rain Taps on My paper And I get An idea about what to draw next.

I show it to my mom.

She says, “I love you.”

Colors There are many different, beautiful, bright colors. I like yellow because it shines like the sun. Yellow really stands out in the rainbow. I also like green, the color of grass and leaves. Green is one of my favorite colors because green is a really beautiful color.

Blue is the color of a Blue Jay’s shimmering wings and the color of the sky. I love blue because it is very bright. There is dark blue, light blue, and baby blue. Those are just some of the colors of the rainbow. There are so many different beautiful, bright, dazzling colors.

Kyla Wright ’16 Grade III

Dove text and illustration Lucy Kim ’15 Grade IV

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The Farmhouse (excerpt) From the vast field behind the house, Whiteface Mountain towers above the trees and all the other mountains. The sky is exploding with deep shades of purple and red as the sun sets behind the tallest mountain for miles around. The mountain will always be there, rising above everything else. It has been and will stay there forever, but the myriad colors of the sky and the mountain are changing constantly. The sky is light pink in the morning, and ocean blue at lunchtime. At sunset, it is purple, red, and orange. The mountain changes color too. At night, it is a dark, blue and gray shade, and in the morning, it is sky blue with shades of green.

My family has been going to the small, colonial farmhouse since 1974, more than 30 years. The house was built in the 1900’s and then owned by the farmer who built it. A woman named Averil Conwell owned the house before my grandparents. She is the one who painted the many beautiful pictures of the mountains that still hang in the house today. This house is decorated with simple and rustic furniture, nothing more than we need. In fact, before this year, we still had an old, wood-burning stove that we used to heat the kitchen and cook dinner….

It definitely isn’t Upper Jay that has changed; some things will always stay the same, like the mountain. It is the people, the environment, and myself that make each year different. Each year is like a different color in the sky during sun set. Last year was the year that everything seemed different to me, and that is because I am old enough to understand things, and because my grandparents’ lives are changing. I think that everything changes over time, and even though it may not seem that way, it is usually a good thing. It is sad that everything seems more serious to me now, but it also helps me grow as a person, and I am glad about that. Every time I have to leave, I cry, because I’m going to miss my family, and because I am a little bit worried about what will be different next year.

Hannah Oettgen ’10 Grade IX

Self Portrait collage Quinn Beaver ’11 Grade VIII

Self Portrait collage Emma Mehlman ’11 Grade VIII

Favorite Place One of my favorite places is the skating rink. First, you enter a heated room that has sturdy wooden benches. This is where you change into your skates. Then you go into the rink. It is as cold as a refrigerator. The ice looks like smooth glass. Lots of people are skating. The beginners creep along. Some hold the rail. Other skaters swoosh by. They are very graceful. Were they born on skates? The loudspeaker plays rock music. You skate and skate. The warm and salty smell of popcorn finally leads you to the snack bar.

You leave the rink, tired and happy. You look forward to your next visit.

Ben Wilmerding ’16 Grade III

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Nangyuan Island (excerpt) In the south of Asia lies the country of Thailand. Bangkok sits in the south of Thailand, and Nangyuan Island is even more south from Thailand, near a town called Chumporn. At Nangyuan Island, the bluest ocean roars and laughs. The sand is the closest color to white as can be. The mountains tower over the island, protecting it. From a view up in the mountains, the two shades of blue separate the shallow and deep waters.

It was my first time visiting Nangyuan Island this past summer, and the beauty of these sights was new to me. We had checked in less than an hour before. Our bungalow-style room was in the lush mountains. The only manmade features were the concrete stairs and the bungalows. The setting was pure and natural. The warm, white sand brushed my feet, and the pool-colored ocean besieged me. I paced step by step into the ocean until I could no longer stand. I peered down at the fish striped silver and black. The school of fish swam in the shallowest waters.

We went snorkeling for the first time. I breathed into my snorkel the wrong way, and the salt water entered my mouth and nose. I looked through my mask, and everything was hazy. I finally got the hang of it and swam with my dad. We saw every kind of fish possible. It felt like watching “Finding Nemo,” only we breathed with the fish and felt the school of fish roll by.

Barbara Singhakiat ’10 Grade IX

Book Review Bermuda Triangle is a book of non-fiction stories. The Bermuda Triangle is an area near Florida, Bermuda and Puerto Rico. Many boats and airplanes have gotten lost there. One time in 1945, five planes left the air station in Florida and when they went over the Bermuda Triangle, they disappeared, vanished.

Another time in 1881, Captain Gould and his crew on the Ellen Austin were sailing. They saw another ship just floating around with no bodies on the ship.

When some of Captain Gould’s men went onto the ship, they disappeared, too. Many strange events happened in the Bermuda Triangle. I liked reading Bermuda Triangle because they have all the good stories about the Bermuda Triangle. I wonder if those stories are really true?

Megan Duckworth ’16 Grade III

Island clay Jacob Barkan ’17 Grade II

Bench wood Eleanor Parker ’13 Grade VI

Hawaii My favorite place is Hawaii. The plane ride is so long, but when you get there, you feel great. A feeling comes over you when you get to the turquoise ocean and you jump in. If you can’t swim, lucky you, because the sea is so salty that you will float. Hawaii is so very beautiful with the palm trees swinging in the wind. When you snorkel, you get to see the brightly colored fish swimming in the coral reef. When you get on the plane, you won’t want to go back.

Nelson Olawoyin ’14 Grade V

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Uncle Jay I don’t get to see my Uncle Jay much, and I don’t talk to him much, either, because of his crazy work schedule, so I’m always excited when we get to go to Arkansas. Uncle Jay is usually one of the people who picks us up at the airport.

In the back of his car, on one of the clothes hangers, is his silver and black stethoscope. His car is black, the seats are black, and the stethoscope is black; everything gets really hot. Sometimes it’s difficult to move the stethoscope to occupy the seat. After the interior of the car has cooled down, my sisters and I listen to our heartbeats with the stethoscope. It’s an entertaining part of our car ride to Fort Smith or Beaver Lake.

My uncle is an emergency room doctor at a county hospital in Arkansas.

I have always loved visiting him when he’s at work. Life in the hospital is so crisp and clean. Because my uncle works in the emergency room, he sometimes has to work all night. He’s always extremely tired after these long nights. He likes what he does, though. I have figured this out by asking him to tell stories of what happened each day. My uncle works a lot, but that’s okay, because I know that he loves what he does, and he cares about the people that he’s helping.

His stethoscope is made of black rubber, silver metal, and yellowish white plastic. I hadn’t thought of the stethoscope as a part of who he is, but I was wrong; it’s a big part of who he is. When I think of doctors, I picture them in scrubs, with a stethoscope hanging around their necks, but I only see my uncle’s stethoscope hanging in the car. When we go visit the hospital, it’s different to see him with the stethoscope hanging casually around his neck.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that he’s not just my Uncle Jay.

Portraits colored pencil Alex Jin ’19 Kindergarten

Mackenzie Mills ’10 Grade IX

Germs I think there are Germs in my Mouth, And that’s Not where they Belong. I Think they Should get Washed out of My mouth, get a New house Not in Someone’s mouth.

Jake DiAdamo ’18 Grade I Amaryllis craypas Robin Pinchera ’19 Kindergarten Bottle pencil Adam Carlson ’11 Grade VIII

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Reflections on the Grade IX Trip to France It was Monday, March 15th, and we were excited to have breakfast with our families and then walk to school for our first day of class. Marie France would start class at 9:00, so we wanted to make sure we left ourselves enough time for the twenty minute walk. We worked hard to speak French during class, and we could tell it was becoming easier as time went on. During our short break, the four of us walked down to the bakery on the corner near the school and bought a snack. Our favorites were the chocolate croissants.

We were especially looking forward to our afternoon activity. We visited the Chateau Virant, which is an olive oil and wine factory with its own olive groves and vineyards. We were overwhelmed by the amount of work it takes to run a production like this, but what inspired us the most was the story of the owner. She was truly remarkable. She had grown up around the family owned vineyards, and even though she resented working there at first, she knew that it was what she was meant to do. She nearly brought us to tears as she told us her story of hard work, raising her daughter and expanding the company all on her own. It was not easy being a female professional in a male-dominated business. In the beginning, the chateau only had a winery, but when she took over from her parents, she began the olive oil production. She has won golden medals for her olive oil, which is famous all over the world. We hope she is doing well and truly look up to her courage and strength.

Michela Thomsen ’10 Grade IX

Map of Sturbridge Village colored pencil Ian Richardson ’17 Grade II

Map of Sturbridge Village colored pencil Karina Kilburn ’17 Grade II

Persuasive Letter Dear Hello Kitty, You have been accepted to the United Cats Association (U.C.A). I am the president of this organization. This group focuses on the problems of cats all around the world. If you join the U.C.A, you will be the youngest cat in the group. You will inspire kitties all around the world.

You will be paid 2,000,000 catbucks a year, which could be very useful for buying any of your daily needs. You will also receive a lifetime supply of sushi prepared by a specially trained chef. You would even get a brand new large portable titanium litterbox with our unique logo on the side, included with fantastic air fresheners. Please join this organization to make cat peace all around the world. Make a difference.

I look forward to your reply. Please contact me at 321-456-987.

Highest hopes, Mr. Biff Adam Banks ’14 Grade V

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Hymn to Clouds You give us warning For what you may bring Black and darkening Or light and pretty, Who are you?

You are always a different person Changing Moody You cover the world Enveloping us in your changes Causing us to wonder Who are you?

Maya Gordon ’13 Grade VI

The Zip-Line

Seals painting Chloe Page ’15 Grade IV

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, Splash!

“That was awesome!’’Jack yelled.

“Teagan, you’re up,” my camp counselor called.

I was at a summer camp in Maine, and I was about to climb 40 feet up and zip-line into the water. I had butterflies in my stomach. I finally got to the top and wanted to zip down, but my camp counselor was still strapping me in. Then we had to go over the commands, “Ready?”

“Ready.” “Zipping.” “Zip away.”

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz splash! That was so much fun! The guys in the canoe came to unstrap me, and I swam to shore. That was the best camp experience ever!

Teagan Atwood ’14 Grade V Zipline crayon Ryan Sanghavi ’19 Kindergarten

When I went ziplining in Costa Rica, I had a great view of Arenal.

Raccoon painting Will Connaughton ’15 Grade IV

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Braces Dentists have given me some of the best and worst things in my life: clean teeth and braces. I remember walking into Waban’s Dental Group on September fifteenth, a nervous look on my face, my hands shaking from the adrenaline. I faked a smile and unwillingly made my way to the check-in desk. I stated my name, “Sophie Franks,” and listened to how it sounded exiting my quivering lips. I imprudently grabbed a thick plastic toothbrush from the white tooth-shaped container and watched as all of the red, green, blue, yellow, and purple toothbrushes slowly fell to the ground, each making a “ping” as it dove through the air and landed on the multi-colored carpet. I picked up the toothbrushes in handfuls and tried to be as quiet as I could. The crinkling of the plastic wrappers unfortunately gave me away, and a good-natured woman from behind the desk stood up, her glasses on the end of her pointy nose, and asked in a southern accent, “Everything okay there, sweetheart?” I answered yes and rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth after I replaced the container on the counter.

After I brushed my teeth, the baking soda taste lingered in my mouth. I silently made my way back to the blue chair next to my mother, surrounded by shiny black racks of water-stained magazines. I did not sit there long, though, because the hygienist, dressed in calico blue scrubs and white shoes, squeakily made her way around the waiting room, calling out “Sophie Franks? Sophie Franks?” I stood up and pulled down my shirt that had inched its way up in my slouched seating position. I reluctantly followed the woman, who smelled like disinfectant. She pushed open the heavy wooden door, leading into the world of dentistry. “Okay, so Sophie, today you will be getting braces. Are you excited?”

Sophie Franks ’12 Grade VII

At school, I take people to the nurse. By, Will K. Nurse crayon Will Kelly ’19 Kindergarten

A coyote’s den is in hillsides and under the roots of old trees. Coyotes can live in deserts, mountains, or grasslands.

Poe Project: Fortunato (excerpt from end) Nearing the end of his life, an old man walked back into the catacombs to the spot where he had committed murder nearly six decades before. He laughed, as he always did when he ventured there, at his own cleverness. In his wild audacity, he removed a block of masonry from the tomb’s eleventh tier and let loose a dull laugh. In his wild audacity, his unbounded egotism, he tore down the masonry, expecting to see the corpse of a murdered man. He left the trowel outside as he proceeded into the niche. Suddenly, he cried out in surprise and astonishment. All that remained in the tomb was a conical hat and a broken chain. As the man called Montresor turned around in shock, he saw the masonry wall, fully rebuilt and trapping him inside.

Coyote crayon Zachary Pool ’19 Kindergarten

Jason Hansel ’12 Grade VII

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Self Portrait painting Rhea Anand ’19 Kindergarten

Ribbons pencil Bassil Bacare ’11 Grade VIII Persephone colored pencil Alicia Zou ’15 Grade IV

Aunt Debra Splash! The icy, salty water hit her body. She was chilled to the bone, and her thick, dark hair was no longer straight, but my aunt didn’t care. She jumped off the bridge into the ocean with pride and confidence, knowing how much this meant to her and everyone else. She is the woman that I look up to. We were in Oak Bluffs, Martha’s Vineyard, in the heat of summer, 2009. My whole family and friends trekked our way past numerous sand dunes to a quaint beach that everyone knows so much about, the legendary State Beach. It was a rite of passage to jump off the bridge into the ocean, and once completed, one would officially be called a Vinyardian. We went to the beach excited that all the kids would finally be able to jump, but no one expected adults to participate.

My Aunt Debra is a proud African American woman whom I consider my second mom when mine isn’t 100%. She lives in Baltimore, Maryland, with her husband and daughter, Clarke. Even though her daughter and I are the same age, I feel a closer connection to my Aunt Debra. She’s more than an aunt to me; she’s my best friend. I tell her secrets that I wouldn’t tell my mom or dad, and I know I’m able to trust her. She is not my real aunt; technically, she’s my godmother. She was with me countless days after my mom passed, making sure I still felt that sense of love from another female. We both had long, dark hair during a time of sadness and mourning. We then both proceeded to cut it short. Cutting our hair was sign of leaving behind; we wanted to leave behind the sadness and the hurt.

We looked out onto the endless icy water, pondering this important moment in time. I was first up, being the eldest cousin. I proceeded to step up onto the bridge. I wanted to get into the water as soon as possible because I couldn’t bear the heat of the wood burning my toes. But I stopped. This wasn’t simply jumping into water; it meant more than that to me. I thought back to my life in Martha’s Vineyard and how much I’d grown there. I looked out to the horizon and then watched the waves crash. I knew she was watching; my mother was watching me. I would jump for her. She told me before that she had always wanted to jump off the bridge, and right before she passed, she jumped and never look back. And that was what I was going to do. I jumped, and the icy water enveloped my entire body.

One by one, all the kids jumped in. When we thought everything was said and done, my Aunt Debra decided it was her turn to jump. She stood on the bridge, making sure she had her balance. Before she jumped, she shouted, “This one’s for you, Teresa!” When she said that, I felt a sense of warmth in my heart. I felt a deep connection with her than ever before.

Whenever I return to State Beach, where the sand burns the soles of my feet as I step into it, I look out past the crashing waves, past the water and the horizon, and I remember. I remember that exhilarating day when my Aunt Debra jumped. I focus on that moment out of the whole vacation. We became closer that day, and my Aunt Debra became someone I could look up to. I associate my Aunt Debra with State Beach and that bridge. She didn’t just become my second mom; she became my inspiration. Even though her body was chilled to the bone and her hair wasn’t straight any longer, she still jumped.

Alex Waye ’10 Grade IX

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Batik cloth and dye Warren Partridge ’13 Grade VI

This is the tram going over a cliff in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

Tram crayon Nate Johnson ’19 Kindergarten

I Know Preparation for Performances Amphora ink Henry Friedlander ’15 Grade IV

I know preparation for performances.

Rushing and rushing to find the right dress, Making sure everything is right, Drinking lots and lots of tea, Hearing over and over again “you have to practice.”

Practicing the song in all different places, On the piano, with a tuning fork and pitch pipe.

I’m feeling tired and hungry but I’ve got to keep at it.

But then it’s time, Time for the sound check.

I finally get to try the song.

My mom frantically trying to get everything ready, Hair, make-up and new clothes.

Now it’s time. I’m ready.

I can finally sing, now!

Oladunni Oladipo ’14 Grade V

Batik cloth and dye Nate Krieger ’13 Grade VI

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Reflections on the Grade IX Trip to Italy Italy was the highlight of my ninth grade year. Between the beautiful views, the fascinating sites, and, of course, the delicious food, I loved every minute of our ten-day taste of Italy. Stuffed to the gills with all the pasta and pizza we could eat, we indulged ourselves in rich creamy gelato nearly every night. There was a myriad of flavors, from the standards (chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, and hazelnut) to more creative options, such as Snickers. However, all of this pales in comparison to the wild boar that Asher, Mr. Grote, and I sampled at a wonderful restaurant in Rome. Cooked in a thick sweet and sour sauce, it was tender and flavorful, and at the time I thought it was the best meat I’d ever had.

Although Mr. Grote kindly explained to the few waiters who inquired that no, we were not all one family, you would never have known from the way we behaved. We were a tightly-knit unit, and I loved bonding with my peers and getting to know my teachers in a new context.

Playing cards was our favorite past-time, and we all enjoyed some friendly games of ultimate Frisbee and handball with Mr. Grote, or, to use his gladiator name, “Grotius Maximus.”

If my classmates were like siblings and the chaperones were my parents, then Mario was our crazy uncle. Mario was the animated Italian driver who shuttled us all around the Bay of Naples. A big man with an even bigger personality, Mario provided a running stream of commentary on the long bus-rides, often taking his massive hands off the steering wheel in order to gesticulate and occasionally breaking into Italian opera. He seemed to be familiar with everyone and everywhere in Italy, even bringing us to a buffalo farm during one of our daytrips. Laura Tani, our guide in Rome, was more of a grandmotherly figure. A feisty and very knowledgeable retired professor, she encouraged us to break rules by cutting lines and taking pictures in places where photography was prohibited.

Between Laura and Mr. Grote, who is basically a human guidebook, the trip was extremely informative as well as enjoyable. Nothing can compare to actually immersing yourself in the history and culture. Anyone who takes Latin has an unimaginably fun, educational, social, and delicious trip to look forward to.

Gilad Seckler ’10 Grade IX Juliet’s Mask mixed media Arielle Silbersweig ’11 Grade VIII

Masque

Colosseum ink Hannah Hecht ’11 Grade VIII

Some people think I’m merely a plague. Others think I’m Death itself. And the rest have no clue who I am. They just know I’m someone to be feared. They are all right and wrong at the same time. I am Death’s servant. Using disease and blood as my tools, I demolish everyone, but only at my master’s command. When I come, all the people run and hide with terror. Though it is no use; I can see through any disguise, and I can tear up any barrier blocking my path.

My job as my master’s servant is to complete all the jobs far below my master, like destroying a measly person who has stepped out of line, or to make an appearance at wars. Jobs far below my master, when it would be an embarrassment for him even to be seen at the site. The job my master has sent me today is out of the ordinary. He has commanded me to clean the world of selfishness, hatred, thieves, greediness and cruelty. This task is a big promotion, and so I plan to make him proud. I intend to complete this task by wiping the earth clean of the human race.

I race through each kingdom, killing without mercy. People scream as I parade into their homes and streets, carefully cornering each of them and tormenting them until their little hearts give way and Death leaves its mark. Finishing one kingdom, I move on to the next, leaving a now ravaged realm behind. Soon I come to the last kingdom. It is a deserted empire, and all the common folks are struggling to remain alive. I feel pity for them, but I have a task to fulfill. I strike lightly trying to make their deaths fast and painless. When I finish with the common folks, I set off to deal with their ruler. The man is named Prince Prospero....

Fiona Ross ’12 Grade VII

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Pull Toy wood Nicole Taylor ’17 Grade II

I really liked feeding the kids at the farm.

Farm Visit crayon and pencil Maya Rabin ’19 Kindergarten

Macbeth Themes: Reflection on the Paradox of Fair is Foul I have many cloudy and distant memories of the paradox of “fair is foul and foul is fair,” (Macbeth: I, i, 12) but one that I can clearly remember is my paradox of popcorn kernels. I can personally relate to popcorn because I go to the movies a lot, and I buy a lot of popcorn there. Sometimes, I just buy popcorn at CVS and eat it at home, too. When I eat popcorn, I really love the moment because it is refreshing and exhilarating to the mouth, especially when the popcorn vendor puts too much butter on the popcorn. That is the fair part of popcorn, but there is also a foul part. Popcorn kernels can easily get stuck in your teeth when you chew on them, because no popcorn is exactly perfect, with no pieces of its kernel and no burnt marks. Sometimes, when the kernel is positioned in an unfortunate position between the teeth and the gums, it really hurts and sends an extremely irritating feel while you’re peacefully watching the movie. I try to use my tongue muscles first to get it out, but when that fails, my hands are needed, and when even my hands are not sufficient, then I don’t know what I would do because I’ve never been in that situation before. I have also noticed that popcorn gets me full very quickly, and makes me not want to eat dinner. This is a very bad thing, because healthy foods are necessary in one’s everyday diet.

After my experience with popcorn, I have learned that life is always balanced, and if something is pleasant, then something else must be unpleasant to even it out. For example, electric pencil sharpeners are very useful and can sharpen pencils quickly, but they cost a lot of money and waste a lot of electrical energy. This “paradox” can be recognized as ironic, because a paradox is meant to upset the balance of life, but this paradox is maintaining life. I have learned to not be greedy and to refrain from eating too many kernels. I would give the same advice to others, as well.

Seho Young ’12 Grade VII

Alligator painting Tim Hartshorn ’15 Grade IV

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My Special Place My special place is on my street, near my house, but not in my house. Not in my front yard or back yard. In fact, it is not in any yard. It is a bad place to jump rope or dribble a soccer ball, a bad place to sit, but a good place to climb. This special place is a wall next to my backyard. My favorite part is to scale the wall. It is gray, with lots of sticks, and it is super rocky, but that makes it fun to monkey around. My favorite part is to climb the wall. It smells like trees, even though there are only a few. The smell of trees I try to savor. It is the size of a hill, but rough like a mountain.

It is my favorite place because the sun shines down, making it bright and warm. It is comfy, though it is rough. It is a good place to daydream. When I sit there, I like to think about life, and I like to make up stories in my head about imagined people and creatures. I feel happy when the sun shines down, like I am really close to it. Then my hair gets warm like toast. I love to look at the view of my small neighborhood in Newton and my backyard. I feel so relaxed looking at my home. But the thing I love most is that I can climb the wall and see all around. It makes me feel on top of everything.

Charlotte Grossman ’16 Grade III

Pull Toy wood Nina Fisherman ’17 Grade II

I am at my grandma’s house, playing in the snow.

Playing in the Snow crayon Emma Gershberg ’19 Kindergarten

Puppet mixed media Eliza McNay ’13 Grade VI

My Attic I look around me. I stand up. “Ow!” I say as I hit the roof. I hear the wretched sound of styrofoam pellets breaking under my feet as I walk. I curse as I stub my toe on a large plastic pipe. I slam my foot on one of the many boxes and immediately regret it. It is filled with hundreds of those horrid pellets. I don’t dare touch one box with “fragile” written on it and with all of that awful styrofoam packaging. The air conditioning fires up. The soft hum rings in my ears, like a honeybee about to sting. The wooden floor below me creaks as I take a step.

I brush the sweat off my brow, as it is burning and torturously humid. I slap my arm. I see blood on my hand, courtesy of the mosquito that was there seconds before. I smell the remains of a once energetic mouse lying in the ventilation system above my head. A shiver runs down my spine. Everything is cold, all at once. Then, silence.

James McIntyre ’12 Grade VII

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Batik cloth and dye Sam Brigham ’13 Grade VI

I want to be a hockey player.

Hockey Player crayon Mason Sturm ’19 Kindergarten

Winter Classic

100 Day Guy marker Marten Faling ’19 Kindergarten Vacuuming crayon Quinn Smith ’19 Kindergarten

The smell of hot dogs fills the cold air The puck is shot GOAL!!!!!

The Bruins win!

A roaring sound, like a lion, but it is just the crowd the touch of everybody high-fiving My white breath fills the air the taste of the sausage I ate in the 1st period The Bruins have won!

The Bruins players act like they knew they would win The devastated Flyers players can’t believe they lost The sad and mad Flyers fans go all the way home to Philadelphia All the Bruins fans celebrate like they just won the Stanley Cup That familiar victory song going on and on Nothing beats the classic!

Reg Anderson ’14 Grade V

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Free Forever More (excerpt) Once upon a midnight dreary While I wandered weak and weary I came across a well-lit cottage nestled in the moor I tapped upon the door to see if this man could shelter me my tired wings and mind could bear no more An answer calls and I rejoice But wait – is that my master’s voice?

Oh, have my wanderings been without purpose on the moor?

For nights on end I’ve traveled, searching My hungry stomach always lurching hoping for a kind person to let me in their chamber door And if this is my master’s door, All of this for nothing more But wait, my friend, let me explain Of all the hardship, all the pain I had endured at Master’s hand He kept me in a cage, you see And when I asked him to be free He struck me down and answered “Nevermore”

Half Face pencil Lilah Lutes ’11 Grade VIII

Every day for freedom I yearned And over years I quickly learned That misery and pain occurred when I spoke So after “nevermores” and cuts the only word that I could utter was “nevermore” without a choke And so even after I’d escaped My fear of pain still makes me brake From saying anything but “nevermore” Ari Seckler ’12 Grade VII

If I Were Senator

Spheres pencil Danielle Kim ’11 Grade VIII

If I were senator, I would make sure that everybody had a house to live in. I’d have ice cream sundaes in every cafeteria once a month. I’d make sure that everyone had food to eat. I’d make sure that everyone had comfortable shoes to wear. I’d make sure that kids had books to read. I’d outlaw mushrooms.

Charlotte Hecht ’18 Grade I

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Reflections on the Grade IX Trip to Spain One afternoon, after morning classes, the bus took us to La Alberca, a small mountain village where we would paint ceramic plates with a local artisan. We arrived a bit early and decided to walk to the Plaza Arsenio where we enjoyed some turrón, which is nougat made with honey, sugar, egg whites, and almonds. Mountains surround the town, and the architecture is medieval. While we waited, we noticed how there were two parts to every door. Half the door opened at the top and the other half opened at the bottom. This was so people could prevent water from coming into their house when it was raining but still get fresh air from opening the top half of the door. We walked up to the hermitage where we were going to paint the plates, and we each received a plate with a lion and leaves sketched on it. Our objective was to color in the lion and leaves, and I had no idea that it would be so difficult. We mixed the paints using colored powder, a sticky binding liquid, and turpentine. While I struggled to paint inside the lines, others excelled. When we finished painting we went back the artisan’s store to see the kind of artwork he makes. When I stepped in the store and looked at the pieces that he created, I felt a lot worse about my plate. After some time admiring his artwork and exploring the town, we headed back to Salamanca and our host families.

Nyle Thomas-Andrews ’10 Grade IX

Sky Diver painting Eloise Baker ’15 Grade IV

Puppet mixed media Leah Struzenski ’13 Grade VI

The Jump I bite my tongue, hard, ow. I am giddy, electrified even, yet somewhat nervous. I hear the noisy chattering of 12 children as we prepare to go off the sledding jump, together. Eeep. What if I fall, what if I hurt someone, what if I get run over, what if..., and then it’s time to go.

I sit on my tube gripping on to Nora’s tube so hard I can see my knuckles through my thick, black gloves, Nora holds Sam’s tube, Sam holds Greg’s, Greg holds......... etc. Eventually we have a clump of nine sleds with ten kids on them and two dragging behind. I feel the bone-chilling snow seep through my boots. My feet are on the ground to prevent the sled from moving. I hear someone yell “Go!” I try to pick my feet up but they refuse to move. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. Finally I close my eyes, wish on my lucky stars that I don’t break a leg, and push off.

Whoosh. I can feel the wind running through my hair. My hair? Where’s my hat? I look back and see it lying lazily in the snow, annoyed that it missed the ride. I look ahead and see the small, but so very intimidating, bump that we call a jump. It’s only ten feet away, five, three, two, one. Zero. We have serious air, we’re around two feet up. As the sled hit’s the ground I can taste the light snow that the sled spurred up. I look behind again and realize that the two people that were trailing behind are in front and are being rammed into repeatedly yet there are still smiling. I realize I’m smiling too.

Emma Bernstein ’14 Grade V

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Copper Eagle (excerpt) Do you know who I am? No? Okay, then, I’ll tell you who I am. I’m Copper Eagle, the guy everyone calls (and I think I am) funny, sly, strong, and eager. My wonderful, caring family symbol is the wolf. My family members are Bold Bear, Rapid Raven, Sneaky Salmon, and Wonderful Wolf. I have many jobs: hunting for bears, deer, salmon, haddock, and whales, and chopping down massive cedar trees vigorously and swiftly with powerful stone tools, and preparing wood planks for the winter long house. But that’s nothing a healthy thirty-two year old like me can’t handle. I need a lot of strength, courage, and dexterity to handle these jobs. I learned how to do these jobs by watching my loving father do his jobs. My grandpa kindly taught me how to whale. I depend on the shaman and my wife, and my son, mother-in-law and wife depend on me. During my spare time, I like to watch beavers do their work. I sometimes wrestle bears (when I was a kid, I wrestled raccoons).

Alex Tesson ’16 Grade III

Haiku At school I help by doing my job on the job chart.

fog covers water boatsman tries to navigate sun tries to come through

Job Chart crayon Maggie Myslik ’19 Kindergarten

peaceful rain falls down providing earth its water lightning strikes a tree Lilian McCarthy ’14 Grade V

Lunch It all started like this. When I got to the cafeteria, I found out that it was fried chicken day. I was the first kid at the lunch table. I got some fried chicken. All the kids at my lunch table had some chicken, too. About fifteen minutes later, I saw a kid at my lunch table get some turkey noodle soup, and I asked if it was good. He said it was great, so I went to get some.

P.S. – It was Chef Eric day in the cafeteria. His special surprise was tropical fruit cut in stars, which they called Star Fruit.

Caleb Richmond ’18 Grade I Colonial Kitchen digital drawing Zane Bookbinder ’17 Grade II

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Haikus based on To Kill a Mockingbird Haiku Number One: The Arrival Aunt A in a chair Acting like she owns the house “Enarmored, upright” Haiku Number Two: The Attitude Aunt A has beliefs About how ladies should act Scout does not fit in Haiku Number Three: Beginning of the Change Tom Robinson died Even Aunt A feels the pain With her hands and voice Haiku Number Four: Back to Normal Aunt A settled down To have her meetings again And to tell rumors Haiku Number Five: The Premonition Stopped in her sentence By the feeling of danger Aunt A has no words

Batman and friend marker Will Laughlin ’20 Pre-Kindergarten Self-Portrait clay Nathaniel Waye ’18 Grade I

Haiku Number Six: The Final Change Anxious, trembling Aunt A distracted and scared Gives Scout overalls Jake Philbin-Cross ’11 Grade VIII

Lamp mixed media Racquelle Leach ’12 Grade VII

Kite I have a tail but I’m not alive I fly up high without wings I do not blow but I am blown What am I? Megan Krieger ’15 Grade IV

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To Kill a Mockingbird: Text to Self (excerpt) I skipped to the sand pit and fell to my bare knees, which were already scratched and dirty from romping around the playground. I had been at the playground all day, and the day before, too. My usual friends were there: Sophie, Marco, Jenna, and Gabriela. I glanced quickly around the familiar surroundings: the picnic tables, the big-and-scary slide, and the swing set, unoccupied and still moving slowly backward and forward.

I snapped my attention back to the sandbox (the only territory I had not explored that day) and pushed some sand away from me. In that one sweeping motion, the glint from a metallic object jumped out oat me. Then, it was gone. My six-year-old mind was warm with anticipation, and I sifted through the sand with my hands until it appeared once again. I grasped the unknown object with dirty fingers and pulled it free. Holding it up to the afternoon sunlight, I saw that it was a plastic bracelet, coated with silver paint and containing images of all the Disney princesses.

It was so shiny, so precious. Suddenly, having obtained my treasure, I felt very cautious. Would my mother let me keep it? I doubted it.

“Hi!” came the familiar voice of my playmate, Gabriela. I looked up at her, squinting in the sunlight. Quickly, I pressed the bracelet into the palm of my hand and hid it from sight. “Hi,” I said softly. I couldn’t show it to her – finders, keepers, and I found it. It was mine.

Sophia Griffith-Gorgati ’11 Grade VIII

First Time Going to School The first time I went to school, I shook with fear. I thought there would be a bully or a fire drill or something I would not like. It was the night before school. I had to go to bed at six thirty. When I woke up the next morning, my mom got me dressed up and got my hair all ready to go. We got my backpack, and we were ready to go. So we left. It took a while to get there, but when I got there, I saw a ball pit and a drawing place and nice teachers. I had a job to do. It was the weather. They had a machine to do it! All you had to do was push a button. If it was sunny, you had to push the sun, and the same with every other one. After everyone did their jobs, we got mints and lollipops!

Square photograph Colin Baker ’18 Grade I

Natalie Hatton ’17 Grade II

Seals at the Aquarium crayon Jesse Hedequist ’20 Pre-Kindergarten Squares block print Wiley Holton ’12 Grade VII

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I Am the Greatest I am the greatest At lacrosse I am the boss And at soccer I rock her I am the greatest In the pool At school On a rhyme Any time

Snapping Turtle story and illustration Lucas Caron ’17 One time I went to Ponkapaug with my Grade II

Catching a Snapping Turtle

mom, my dad, and my sister. One day we went down to the dock. We went swimming. While we were drying off, we saw a snapping turtle. I was scared. I did not want to fall in! There are stories of snapping turtles biting people. I heard a story about a snapping turtle that bit someone. After that, the snapper had to be moved out of the pond. While they were moving the snapper out, the turtle tipped over the boat that they put him in! Then they had to put him in a recycling bin to carry him off. However, there are still snapping turtles in Ponkapaug. The turtle had come in to catch some fish. My dad grabbed it by the tail! He had to haul it up on the dock without getting bitten. It was hard because he did it with his bare hands!

He had to be careful because it hurts to get bitten by a snapping turtle. I got to see it. It looked gray and green. It had big legs and a big mouth with a worm-like tongue. I got to release it back into the water. The turtle swam away. I think my dad is amazing and skilled for catching a turtle that bites.

I am the greatest In the house With a mouse On a bike Little tike I am the greatest cook In the book You could ever look

Waterskiing Squirrel block print Halle Hall ’12 Grade VII

Justine Hatton ’13 Grade VI

Apple Picking craypas Avery Dolins ’20 Pre-Kindergarten

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The Lake at the Foot of Mt. Monadnock (excerpt)

Cherry Tree crayon Chandler Gilbane ’20 Pre-Kindergarten

A few miles east of Troy, a small lake floats in bright sunlight, shallow and calm. The lake is filled with lily pads, resting flowers which glow in the light. At the lake’s shore, shallow mud rests on the ground, and trees crowd the water’s edge. In front of this lake rises a mountain covered in the olive green of faraway forests, its rock crest flying high above all else. Behind the lake stands a grassy slope, falling over itself into the ground. Many cautious squirrels scamper out over these hills, running quickly to spots of leafy cover while trying to avoid areas open to the empty, clear sky; often in the ever-expanding, all-encompassing periwinkle blue of this sky a hawk circles, alone, searching for prey.

The mud by the pond often has a pair of rabbit tracks from when a hare came to drink in the lake and his feet sank into the soft mud.

In the lake, minnows dart through the shallow water and creep under rocks; dragonflies bounce from colorful flower to flower, each one an ephemeral rest before the dragonfly hops into the air once more. On the outskirts of the water, small black bugs guard the shore, swarming under tree overgrowth and darting out from their group spontaneously for only a second before rejoining. On top of the mountain, small pools of water are home to many tadpoles, small black dots of life that swim curiously in large circles or hide under small tufts of grass.

Danny Benett ’11 Grade VIII

Sky I soar through the air as graceful as a tree swaying when the wind pushes its leaves into fall.

I soar over the sea as the whales speak to me.

I feel the heat touch my back saying “Too high, too high.”

I start my glide to go a little ways down-- 1,2,3 down!

I glide like an angel going up to heaven.

I turn through the mazes of the great above.

I am at my home, I get ready and I go down.

And I’m happy I had that feeling!

Isabella Riehl ’15 Grade IV

Turtle block print Jaleel Williams ’12 Grade VII

Still Life with Fruit painting Annie Goodridge ’10 Grade IX

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Snow Snow is soft and cold.

White ice that comes Down at you softly.

It makes you wet.

That’s when snow is nice.

Sometimes it is mean.

Smash!

Snow hits my face quickly.

Snow text and illustration Ben Moskowitz ’17 Grade II Ice Skating crayon Lindsay Whelan ’20 Pre-Kindergarten

The Snowboard Crash The excitement, the feeling, the ride up Sunny Spruce glowed in my mind. The quad chairlift was so amazing to me because it was only my fourth day snowboarding, and I was there already. Wow! Up, up, up and up we went!

At the top, my coach declared, “We will be going down Side Street.”

“Side Street is a super-mogully trail,” I said in my head.

We started to snowboard, down, down, down, and a brilliant feeling vibrated in my mind until… I crashed onto my head on the rough, hard snow. On the ground, my arm hurt. I was in pain. My coach in front of me noticed nothing and kept going.

Zachary Taylor ’15 Grade IV

Penguins block print Michael Schaff ’12 Grade VII Symmetry collage Shahab Kousheshi ’18 Grade I

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Dragons on Ice colored pencils Alex Cherry ’16 Grade III

The Music Lesson (excerpt) Twenty minutes after five o’clock, the doorbell rang and Mr. Cutler crossed the threshold into the house.

Though it was already the third week in the month, it was the first time he came, for he was always missing his lessons. He walked with a jaunty step, yet it still seemed to come short, enthusiasm mixed with tiredness. He was tall with stout shoulders, shortcropped light blonde hair with light eyes. He wore pants and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Every day he wore a different tie with a crazy design. He came in with a relaxed smile, happy but somewhat weighed down. He spoke calmly about his hectic day. As the lesson began, he listened and the music reverberated through the room. He spoke thoughtfully and kindly, pointing out mistakes mixed with compliments so as not to diminish the whole piece….

Troy Joseph ’11 Grade VIII

Self-Portrait craypas Thacher Formisano ’16 Grade III

Ice Hockey marker Will Emery ’20 Pre-Kindergarten

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“D,” my name is Demi and I like dogs and I like to disco.

“D” is for... text and illustration Nika Taleghani ’18 Grade I

#1) I learned that mangrove trees grow near the water. #2)and one of the frogs can glide?/ hide? #3)A mother frog lays her eggs in the water. #4)Frogs have webbing between their fingers and toes.

Frog Facts text and illustration Lucy Wilmerding ’18 Grade I

Setting in Nature, based on initial passage in novel, Of Mice and Men A few steps west of the hard beaten path, the land ends at the cold, dark blue ocean waters, the gray rocks hot in the bright, scalding sun before the arrival of the cold night. Wind chills the land and sways the grass, and up above a flag flaps hard but almost noiselessly. The only sound comes from the crashing of the waves on the rocks and the boats that bob and hit the dock.

The smell of fresh flowers and frequently cut grass fills the air and spreads, carried by the wind from the land behind. A sad, sober, and empty harbor lies ahead. Waves roll through it like a wheat field on a windy day. A fish jumps far in the distance, creating new waves that go against the others. North of the bay, the trees in the forest sway and collide like young, happy children. A stray cat runs across the path and into a bush, chased by a dog as if there were no tomorrow. A turtle emerges panting from the rocks as if it has just climbed a mountain. It arrives at the path and stops, stops to think. It looks both ways before crawling leisurely north.

Suddenly the turtle stops again, afraid to look up, for up above in the sky a hawk is looking for dinner. But around goes the hawk, sees nothing and lands high up in a tree. The turtle is safe.

Bernardo Pacini ’11 Grade VIII

Fish watercolor Kevin Michael O’Boy ’16 Grade III

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Ode to a Midnight Dog Griffin, black Midnight on A moonless night.

Eyes like dual Moonlit pools of Water.

Fur gleaming Shining like Polished wood.

Panda block print Eliza Perry ’12 Grade VII

A bark of reverberating Thunder Shaking intruders to Their toes.

Another, penetrating Adamant Wanting of Something.

Finally a high-pitched Whine that says Please, please.

His tail a Marvelously printed Question mark.

Lengthy Legs designed for Running Fast.

His sharp Claws Furry paws Pound upon the land.

Velvety ears Border His slender Face.

In the spring, I like to go horseback riding. The reason I go horseback riding in the spring is because in the winter, it is too cold.

Horse text and illustration Eva Fisherman ’18 Grade I

Rees Collier ’13 Grade VI

The Day I Caught Brownie Through my window I still see a birdhouse, and it reminds me of the time I found Brownie. Last year, on April 6th, I was going to get into my car when I saw two birds. They were hopping around and eating. Then, I realized that one was a baby European Sparrow. It looked like a little puffball. I said, “Dad, I found a baby bird!” The adult looked like a dreidel. We chased them around. They went under the porch. The adult bird dug a hole in the leaves. We dug it up. Then, it ran into a corner. Then we caught it because there are hundreds of stray cats in my neighborhood. Brownie felt like a furry ball with a furry stick sticking out. As I was holding Brownie, Brownie was shivering in my hand and I felt sad for him. My new bird drove Peanut crazy.

The next night, Peanut slept next to him, and I could not fall asleep because he was peeping.

Zachary Schaff ’17 Grade II

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Poetry Hides Poetry hides in baseballs, the flaming red stripes, it hides in books, the colorful covers Poetry hides in ancient Greece, the great temples, maps, having the whole world in your hands, and math, every number means something Poetry hides in games, the twisty-turny paths, basketball, the towering players, football, all the action Poetry hides at school, all the information, and at home, my whole family Poetry hides Nihal Raman ’15 Grade IV Self-Portrait craypas Annie DiAdamo ’16 Grade III

It’s a nice day for a leisurely walk. I’ll go wish my friendly neighbor a happy birthday.

Good thing I’m not in a hurry. This freight train is deceivingly long.

Walking T-shirt Hi, Grey Ghost! Happy birthday! craypas Hi, Poe. Would you like some cake?

Ben Fleishman ’20 Yes, please.

Pre-Kindergarten Would you like a small piece or a big one?

Either.

That’s a weird response.

Could I sit down? My feet are tired from a long walk.

Sure, sit down and relieve your feet.

Cartoon with vocabulary words Yummy cake! crayon I have a present for you.

Sarah Evenson ’14 Thanks, Poe! That’s the only present I’ve received all day!!

Grade V This friendship is the best present I ever could have conceived!

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Ode to Sneakers Once, in Brazil, You walked on the Palm-scattered beach, Lightly touched by The vivid cobalt sea.

In China You climbed to the Peak of the mountain, Always with me.

In Providenciales You were stored In a dark closet, Uncomplaining, Waiting with the others As I plumbed the depths.

You were there for me.

You have molded To my feet like gel.

You are my Old Sneakers.

Some say you reek, But to me You have the aroma Of rosemary chicken.

Once, You were youthful, With your dazzling Orange signature, Wave Creation 9.

Once, your brilliant Ginger tread Screeched across Waxed parquet.

Once, You trudged Through bottomless black mud That oozed through Your canvas.

Boot block print Jamie Murray ’12 Grade VII

But now you are old.

Your once tight laces Are loose and frail.

You lithe soles, That once responded to my Every command, Are now worn and Unforgiving.

Your loyal bounce is gone.

Your once white webbing is Now the color Of a hundred experiences.

You’re in retirement now, Languishing in the closet, While I make new friends.

Soon, you’ll be recycled, Maybe Reincarnated as Nikes.

Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust.

Mizuno to Nike.

You may forget me But My Time I Learned to Tie My Shoes I won’t forget you.

George Reeders ’13 Grade VI

Portrait Head clay Asher Bohmer ’10 Grade IX

It was a nice cold night, and my babysitter was teaching me how to tie my shoes. She was teaching me the tree way. I did not get it. I actually cried. I felt down, sad. I saw my babysitter trying. I heard the loudness of my crying. I stopped crying and went back downstairs.

My babysitter was looking up a new way to tie shoes! She showed me a new way that was like a bunny. After that, I felt so happy. Then my parents came home from work. I told everyone, and I mean everyone in the house about tying my shoes. And I made a big show. It was called… Lulu’s Laces. I found all the tie shoes in the house and I tied every single one. When it was over, everyone applauded and we had dinner.

P.S. – I learned the other way, too.

Lulu Wright ’17 Grade II

Tools pencil Jane Saltzman ’18 Grade I

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The Worm Game The worm lay there Five stabs in its side I stabbed it It wriggled

Northwest Native American Home text and illustration Eva O’Marah ’16 Grade III

A lot of people lived with you in your house. Not only your nuclear family lived with you, but also your extended family, like your cousins, aunts, uncles, and more.

The Ceiling Like a giant shoe About to crush you.

White worms.

Spaghetti without sauce, Hard to break.

Ceiling poem and illustration Matty Hong ’18 Grade I

I threw the worm It flew And flew It whistled in the air My throw beat All the other throws Twenty yards Thirty It landed With a splat A horrible sound Finally dead Shame rested in my stomach But with all the excitement And my friends A worm was nothing His small life Did not matter We examined the spot The rotten smell in my nose I had won I had the longest throw I am sorry for a worm His life I threw away To win a game Which I Never truly Won Carlo Abelli ’13 Grade VI

The Letter E The beginning of everything The end of rhyme The beginning of every end The ending of free The end of time and space The beginning of earth The end of crime Who am I in this rhyme?

Tristan Edwards ’15 Grade IV Street Drawing colored pencil Rami Abdul-Aziz ’14 Grade V

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Brown Brown A color of comfort Of autumn and trees Corduroy and cardboard

Landscape craypas Ben Tyszka ’16 Grade III

Of gardens Ready to plant In springtime Deep Rich Soil Squelching mud After rain Water Hanging in the air The unmistakable Stench of clay Soft Moist What seems To me Of Thursday And November

Clock wood Daniella Columbo ’10 Grade IX

Itchy wool Wet from snow Knitted sweaters Made with love Steaming hot chocolate In the intense cold Of winter Heating you up Inside to out Freshly baked muffins Soft and warm Melting Chocolate chips Bug Small and Spidery Crawls on ground and in your house Squash! on the windshield Haiku with illustration watercolor Sophie Cohen ’14 Grade V Clever Clover colored pencil Macey Mannion ’16 Grade III

Wood All kinds Smooth Or rough Corduroy and cardboard Of autumn and trees A color of comfort Brown Isobel Bohmer ’13 Grade VI

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Loud and Quiet text and illustrations Caroline Bonnevie ’16 Grade III

The cicada is loud so it can attract a mate.

The Gila monster is quiet so it can catch prey.

I Am Boo I am Boo I am from the shadows of the night I am from giving little children a fright I am Boo I am from giving small gracious gifts I am from being very swift I am Boo I am from saving two children’s lives I am from stabbing my father with a pair or scissors in the thigh I am Boo I am from putting a blanket on Scout while a house was burning down I am from being put down by the town I am Boo I am from being called a monster to being called a hero I am Arthur Radley, the shy hero of Maycomb Erik Reed ’11 Grade VIII

All frogs are poisonous. Some poisonous dart frogs have skin that can kill ten people at the same time.

Frog Facts text and illustration David Rome ’18 Grade I

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Self-Portrait craypas River Studley ’16 Grade III

Darkness As the sun comes up: Meridian madness comes to Maycomb Scout starts off on the wrong foot Walter Cunningham “ruins” his food Boo lies silently watching his children Miss Maudie bakes a piece of encouragement Scout becomes proper Gifts come in a tree As the sun goes down: Miss Maudie is homeless Atticus is too old to have fun Miss Dubose can’t breathe anymore A camellia dies in a box Tim Johnson lives no more Atticus’ “gun is empty” The news comes to the door in utter anger Mr. Underwood writes his angry editorial Tom Robinson lies dead in his grave Mr. Ewell almost reaches his fateful goal Boo Becomes a hero Ethan Ruder ’11 Grade VIII

Swimming crayon Alexandra Strand ’20 Pre-Kindergarten

Street Drawing colored pencil Christopher Mathews ’14 Grade V

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My Soul My soul is a Lamborghini It is fast moving One of a kind And it’s sleek My soul can be a half bitten donut It might not have an attention span It is welcoming

Dreams

At the Theatre marker Sophia Davidson ’19 Kindergarten

They come Every night Flying through Your mind.

You fly, You dance, Your famous wishes Come true Only in your DREAMS!

My soul is a snow boarder Jumping at new heights on awesome jumps It is the most fun soul It is also a daredevil My soul is a deep hole letting nothing out but can hold plenty Ivan Carroll ’13 Grade VI

Sydney Cohen ’17 Grade II

I Am the Red Death I plastered on the rest of my mask and flipped up my dark hood. I looked at my reflection in the puddle before my feet, and I could not recognize myself.

As I slipped through the bars of the fence, I was reminded of the tragedies I was leaving behind, the Red Death that had swept the souls of hundreds away.

Soon, I would take its place. I reached the doors and slithered by the guards, merely a shadow. I knew that there were two more minutes until the chime of the clock, two minutes until the palace would be mine. I slowly glided down the corridor and walked into the first room and swung open the door as the first chime of midnight fell upon us. I glided through the crowd, through the eerie silence of the hour. I saw the outraged look upon the prince’s face as his friends gasped in horror at my face. I slipped swiftly through the rooms, hearing howls of outrage issuing from the prince’s mouth. When I had arrived at my destination, I stood in the blood red shadow cast by the window and I finally lifted my face. The prince’s shining dagger fell to the floor, and he also fell suddenly. The friends of Prince Prospero all gushed into the room, and one by one fell in terror. I laughed gaily. I had destroyed the prince’s haven, and his friends were dead, of fear.

Colonial Doll mixed media Isaiah Harris-Wolfe ’17 Grade II

Karly Oettgen ’12 Grade VII

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My Room I turn off my ceiling light, and my room is thrown into the eerie light of my dimmed wall lamp. I dive into my bed as though a terrible demon is at my heels. I lie there, listening for the slightest movement. I start to relax and sag into my comfortable bed. I look around and see my soccer lamp, which transforms into the head of a ghostly, cloaked figure. I look away and see the moonlight coming through the windows, and the branches of the trees swaying in the wind. I am so tired, I start seeing double, and my ceiling lamp turns into two gray, unblinking eyes. My eyes start to droop, but I am jerked awake by a scratching at the window. I reassure myself that it is just some branches scratching at the house.

But a part of my brain whispers, “Maybe not…” as I drift off to sleep.

Waterslide text and illustration Priya Devavaram ’18 Grade I

Matthew Casagrande ’12 Grade VII

I will go to camp with Abby. The camp is called “Leap Frog.” It has a waterslide.

Pops I go to Arizona once a year and visit Nana and Pops. Nana and Pops are my dad’s side grandparents. Pops is very good at art. No matter how much time you give him, he’ll find a way to make something cool. We never really time him, but if we did he would do well. Sometimes I paint with Pops. He has lots of special tools because he paints a lot. I don’t think I have ever seen a painting in the house that wasn’t made by Pops. When I paint with him, he sketches first, then I mix the colors on my own and paint. After I am done, Pops outlines everything in black. He is an awesome grandfather.

Charlotte Ketterson ’17 Grade II

My favorite part of the Trumpet of the Swan was when the boy saved the swans.

Trumpet of the Swan text and illustration Sophie Wilmerding ’18 Grade I

iPhone marker Ravi Kalan ’18 Grade I

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Report on Ice Cream (excerpt) Places, things, and ideas were also important in ice cream and cone history. No one really knows where ice cream came from and how it got here, but this is what most people think.

Snow, milk and rice were mixed together in China about 3,000 years ago. Then 700 years ago, Marco Polo came from China with recipes for flavored ices. The European royalty experimented with them. After many experiments, they added cream. 300 years ago, the British brought ice cream to the American colonies. They had to mix the icy mixture in a pan for a long time. Only wealthy people got ice cream because they had to cut ice from frozen lakes. They stored the ice in icehouses so that they could have it year round. Even for wealthy people, ice cream was only served at special events. In 1846 Italo Marchiony ran out of bowls, so he got a waffle and molded it into a bowl. That was the first waffle bowl. The first waffle cone was made at the St. Louis World Fair in 1904 by Ernest A. Hamwi. That is the history of ice cream and the cone.

Charlotte Blum ’14 Grade V

My Soul My soul is a Tree Its roots going deep down It changes its emotions for every season And it branches off to many friends.

My soul is a tree.

My soul is a Wild mustang It runs free And no one can catch it.

It is driven never to give up Even when someone grabs it.

My soul is a wild mustang.

My soul is a klutz.

It trips when it’s walking And flips when it’s talking Because it has a mind of its own.

My soul is a klutz.

Street Drawing colored pencil Fiona Duckworth ’14 Grade V

My soul is a Poem Because it has its own rhythm And plays its own song.

It keeps a steady beat And remembers to keep strong.

My soul is a poem.

Noosha Aliabadi ’13 Grade VI

Stapler Jet black Alligator swimming Through the pond, Its silver teeth Chomping down On everything In sight.

You can always Tell it’s coming For its sound Echoes through The night.

Belle Hartshorn ’15 Grade IV

Laughter watercolor Aria DeMarco ’18 Grade I

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K C M Y SP SP SP

Many whose writings and drawings appear here will be surprised to see themselves in print. Still others who have nothing in this anthology will be disappointed. Only a part of what I received could be included, and I regret I had to exclude so much. To select short stories, poems, and drawings for an anthology spanning writers who range in age from three to fifteen is not easy. By the selections which appear here I have tried to reach for both diversity and excellence.

John Shaw Founding Editor Park School Anthology 1966

Flying

I feel on top of the world and full of sensation Sailboat block print Derek Simshauser ’12 Grade VII

In the sky like a giant constellation

The air is pulling me out of my mind

Making me feel like one of a kind

I can see the world from up above

At the same time I see a beautiful dove

The wind and I are a perfect pair

Mr. Putput Leaves are falling, and Mr. Miller is outside again, brushing them off his perfectly manicured lawn. His dark, balding hair brushes over his head as he looks to see who is walking up to my door. As usual, it is my family, two generations of Curtin culture, but he seems surprised by this every time and quietly says through his mustache, “Hello.”

My mother replies with a “Hello” or a “How are you?” or maybe even a “Isn’t the weather lovely” and walks inside. Carl looks away and continues his work. He rides around on his lonely lawnmower for a while and then goes inside his squat blue house.

From my room I can see his TV turn on to some kind of police drama, and his car pulls out. The boxy orange car trundles down the road and takes a left. He’s headed to his usual post at the end of the main road.

The TV stays on the whole time he is out, blaring nonsense words through the opened window as if to prove someone lives there.

Mr. Miller is at the Dunkin’ Donuts, sipping coffee and making small talk, 99% of the conversation he has each day. The workers there, though they change often, all know him by name.

His oil slick of hair could have a connection to his old job as an employee of an oil company. His company truck used to putput-put down the street, grumbling down the road to his favorite destination. As small children, my sister and I would hear my grandfather say, as soon as the car went by, “There goes Mr. Putput.”

Now that I’m older, I realize that the name not only had to do with his car, but his personality itself. Puttering around with his lawn, his gleaming car, and his front walkway, Mr. Miller is a very puttery man. Every once in a while, his two grown daughters visit with their children, and soon the smell of American barbeque fills the air. His grandchildren scamper about and shriek as they tear up precious pieces of his pampered grass. I always notice him taking a little extra time the next day as he waters his earthy carpet.

Mr. Miller returns from his trip to Dunkin’ Donuts, branded coffee cup in hand. His car backs into his driveway. He sets the styrofoam cup onto the top of his car and bends down over his everyday blue jeans to clear a leaf. A lawn, like a schedule, is never perfect. But his is.

Making me feel at home in a windy lair

O.J. Cruz ’15 Grade IV

Faculty Editors: Maria Alvarez and Andrea Sparks Special thanks to: Kate LaPine, Alison Connolly, and the Technology Department

Ariane Curtin-Bowen ’11 Grade VIII

dedication page artwork: Hand-Drawn Poster of Book Titles from Phyllis Ong’s classroom (Dragon character from the book, The Mysterious Misadventures of Foy Rin Jin: A Decidedly Dysfunctional Dragon, story by Jim Friedman, illustrated by Patti Stren.)

front cover artwork: Windmill Schema pencil Griffin Seeley ’10 Grade IX

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back cover artwork Moped with Rider pencil Griffin Seeley ’10 Grade IX

back cover artwork Moped pencil Padraig Sullivan ’10 Grade IX

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Many whose writings and drawings appear here will be surprised to see themselves in print. Still others who have nothing in this anthology will be disappointed. Only a part of what I received could be included, and I regret I had to exclude so much. To select short stories, poems, and drawings for an anthology spanning writers who range in age from three to fifteen is not easy. By the selections which appear here I have tried to reach for both diversity and excellence.

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Flying

I feel on top of the world and full of sensation Sailboat block print Derek Simshauser ’12 Grade VII

SW1

In the sky like a giant constellation

The air is pulling me out of my mind

Making me feel like one of a kind

I can see the world from up above

At the same time I see a beautiful dove

The wind and I are a perfect pair

Mr. Putput Leaves are falling, and Mr. Miller is outside again, brushing them off his perfectly manicured lawn. His dark, balding hair brushes over his head as he looks to see who is walking up to my door. As usual, it is my family, two generations of Curtin culture, but he seems surprised by this every time and quietly says through his mustache, “Hello.”

My mother replies with a “Hello” or a “How are you?” or maybe even a “Isn’t the weather lovely” and walks inside. Carl looks away and continues his work. He rides around on his lonely lawnmower for a while and then goes inside his squat blue house.

From my room I can see his TV turn on to some kind of police drama, and his car pulls out. The boxy orange car trundles down the road and takes a left. He’s headed to his usual post at the end of the main road.

The TV stays on the whole time he is out, blaring nonsense words through the opened window as if to prove someone lives there.

Mr. Miller is at the Dunkin’ Donuts, sipping coffee and making small talk, 99% of the conversation he has each day. The workers there, though they change often, all know him by name.

His oil slick of hair could have a connection to his old job as an employee of an oil company. His company truck used to putput-put down the street, grumbling down the road to his favorite destination. As small children, my sister and I would hear my grandfather say, as soon as the car went by, “There goes Mr. Putput.”

Now that I’m older, I realize that the name not only had to do with his car, but his personality itself. Puttering around with his lawn, his gleaming car, and his front walkway, Mr. Miller is a very puttery man. Every once in a while, his two grown daughters visit with their children, and soon the smell of American barbeque fills the air. His grandchildren scamper about and shriek as they tear up precious pieces of his pampered grass. I always notice him taking a little extra time the next day as he waters his earthy carpet.

Mr. Miller returns from his trip to Dunkin’ Donuts, branded coffee cup in hand. His car backs into his driveway. He sets the styrofoam cup onto the top of his car and bends down over his everyday blue jeans to clear a leaf. A lawn, like a schedule, is never perfect. But his is.

Making me feel at home in a windy lair

O.J. Cruz ’15 Grade IV

Faculty Editors: Maria Alvarez and Andrea Sparks Special thanks to: Kate LaPine, Alison Connolly, and the Technology Department

Ariane Curtin-Bowen ’11 Grade VIII

dedication page artwork: Hand-Drawn Poster of Book Titles from Phyllis Ong’s classroom (Dragon character from the book, The Mysterious Misadventures of Foy Rin Jin: A Decidedly Dysfunctional Dragon, story by Jim Friedman, illustrated by Patti Stren.)

front cover artwork: Windmill Schema pencil Griffin Seeley ’10 Grade IX

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back cover artwork Moped with Rider pencil Griffin Seeley ’10 Grade IX

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back cover artwork Moped pencil Padraig Sullivan ’10 Grade IX

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The Park School

Spot 741Spot PANTONE Cyan Magenta Yellow Black 3 1 3 Blue 2 Process 072Blue Sheetwise C C

The Park School 171 Goddard Avenue Brookline, Massachusetts 02445

NON-PROFIT U.S. POSTAGE PAID STOUGHTON,MA PERMIT NO. 160

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Anthology 2010

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The Park School

Anthology 2010

The Park School 171 Goddard Avenue Brookline, Massachusetts 02445

NON-PROFIT U.S. POSTAGE PAID STOUGHTON,MA PERMIT NO. 160

K C M Y SP SP SP

address label

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