If Someone Shoots My Classroom MATTHEW PETERSON

if someone shoots my classroom please call my mother first if you use my phone to call her she’ll answer to say “I’m at work” please someone hold her hand not you, sir, with a badge tell her the story of this day tell her the truth, the facts speak not of a hero thoughts and prayers only choke speak clearly of their failures as smoke now sears their throats then, remind her of the warmth that waits beyond the line of shade remind her of the power that’s buried within the depths of rage remind her of the force that exudes from all unseen rays remind her of the love that holds a wilted heart’s frame remind her of every rooted system once a planted seed, deep within the soil, through time transforms to trees remind her of changing seasons that spring follows every winter freeze remind her of the light beyond darkness’ last lonely gleam remind her she can find me when the sun hits its peak in the still of an August sunrise August sunrise and songs that fill space between remind her she can find me in the stalks that leaf where wildflowers break stone on the burm’s high knee remind her she can find me in every transplanted green, when the glow of golden hour blossoms beautiful new dreams remind her she can find me in the late summer heat where a kaleidoscope of flowers buzz with the exhale of bumblebees remind her she can find me under branches of a maple tree on a bronze and orange blanket next to a book marked at page thirteen remind her she can find me in every hawk soaring free circling higher in the clouds beyond what her brown eyes see mom, i’m so sorry for choosing the path of service my job was to teach children i don’t know how to below the surface mom, i’m so sorry that someone shot my classroom mom, i’m so sorry that hearts can be this full of gloom someone remind her that i am always here she’s my mother, my protector, my light my everlasting center my radiant midnight if someone shoots my classroom please call my mother first tell her they will find me in the flames then, tell her that i love her

About the Author

Born and raised in southeastern Wisconsin, Matthew Peterson is a 28-year-old queer educator currently teaching in Portland, Oregon. Always in cycles of reflection, writing poetry has allowed him to creatively and curiously process the layers that exist between identity, education, and community.

CHILDREN’S POETRY CONTEST

The Massachusetts Reading Association (MRA) is delighted with the response we received to our inaugural Children’s Poetry Contest. Forty-five students, ranging from second grade to sixth grade, submitted original poems for this competition. Their poetry is creative, engaging, and thoughtful. These poems were a delight to read. It is exciting to see budding, young poets in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

We now wish to knowledge the MRA Poetry Contest winners and honorable mentions and our poetry contest judges. We were so impressed with the quality of the poems that were submitted to this contest, that we wanted to honor all submissions. Thus, all poetry submitted to this Children’s Poetry Contest will be featured on the MRA website. Please see the following QR Code:

Poetry Contest Winners And Honorable Mentions

PreK-Grade 2

Winner: Aowyn Bixby: Grade 2: Clyde Brown Elementary School: Millis, MA

Grades 3-5:

Winner: Lily Madeline Goodwin: Grade 4: Lincoln School, K-4: Lincoln, MA

Honorable Mention: Lily Yockel: Grade 4: Lincoln Public Schools: Lincoln, MA

Grades 6-8:

Winner: Isabele Grigaliute: Grade 6: Bourne Middle School: Bourne, MA

Honorable Mention: Sophie Zhou: Grade 6: Sippican Elementary School: Marion, MA

MRA Poetry Contest Judges

Pattie Kelley: MRA President 2023-2024

Terrie Marr: Past MRA President

Sailing Away

AOWYN BIXBY

MRA Poetry Contest Winner | PreK - Grade 2

One day I’ll sail away off the horizon and into the bay. I’ll cross waterfalls, seas, and lakes. I’ll do whatever it possibly takes. I’ll find my own land by the pace of the new fallen sand. I’ll be one with the wild and breathe in the air like a calm little child. I’ll sail from summer to fall to winter to spring as two little birds softly sing. I’ll be with the birds, the wild and sky as you quietly watch my life fly by. You will be with me always inside of my heart because you cared for me at the very first start.

About the Author

Aowyn Bixby is in the second grade at the Clyde Brown School in Millis, Massachusetts.

Broken LILY MADELINE GOODWIN

MRA Poetry Contest Winner | Grades 3-5

If we’d just listen, we’d know our world is broken, People don’t care about our mother, just their wants, They just care about their money, their clothes, their power, and their life, Not what our mother needs to stay alive.

But if we just took one look at our world, we’d see it’s broken, If we saw, we might help her as a token of appreciation, For her effort to give us the life we live in, We should help our home, our world, our earth, to keep it.

If we stopped for a second to think, we’d realize the world is broken. If we’d stop polluting, stop littering, and stop to think, “Is this good for earth?” We would know not to let these things slip through our hands that are frozen, What is the worth of destroying our future for tech, for cars, and for power?

So listen to me for one moment why don’t you, Our world is dying and I need, we need, your help too, So please listen for your children, your home, and the future, Help our home, help the Earth, please won’t you?

It’s a mountain I climb, It’s something I’ll do, I’ll be more for the earth. Will you? About the Author

Lily Madeline Goodwin is in grade four at the Lincoln School, Lincoln, Massachusetts.

Well LILY YOCKEL

MRA Poetry Contest Honorable Mention | Grades 3-5

A deep deep hole

Like a deep deep bowl

Everlasting Never ending

Like a gaping dragon’s mouth

Gushing out water, Our life water

Everlasting Never ending

How many waves of water wonder?

How many bucketfuls of love?

Everlasting Never ending

Always waiting…

I am well

A deep deep hole

Like a deep deep bowl

Everlasting Never ending

Like a gaping dragon’s mouth

Gushing out water, Our life water

Everlasting Never ending

How many waves of water wonder?

How many bucketfuls of love?

Everlasting Never ending

Always waiting… I am well

About the Author

Lily Yockel is a fourth-grade student in the Lincoln Public Schools.

Early Bird

Izabele Grigaliute

MRA Poetry Contest Winner | Grades 6-8

The bird flitted into his nest, Where he kept his chest Full of magic and fear. “There will be not one peer, Of my magic, not ever.” So he pushed on a lever, And the sun rose up, Shining, and smiling, not at all fed up. The creatures started twittering, laughing, neighing, rising, and singing “It’s morning, it’s morning; The day has begun!”

And the bird felt quite proud; But he put on his shroud, And disappeared into the trees. But he’ll come back tomorrow, Just you wait and see.

About the Author

Izabele Grigaliute is a sixth-grade student at Bourne Middle School, Bourne Massachusetts.

Sophie Zhou

MRA Poetry Contest Honorable Mention | Grades 6-8

One percent. That is the amount of people in this country that are like me. Two biological parents, Of two different races, And when you put it in retrospect, Even fewer are half Chinese.

When I was little, I knew my race, Just not what it meant. I held up my head with pride, And told them all. But then I got older, And I kept it quiet. Still the questions came. The things they ask That make me want to shrink away, And stand up taller, At the same time. Were you born in China? No.

Can you say my name in Chinese? No. Do you eat dogs? What? No!

Wait, I got a higher score than you. I thought Chinese people were good at Math!

Is it because you are only half? I don’t know.

To many Americans, I’m too Asian. To Asians, I’m too American.

Does it really matter though? People who want me to be anything Other than who I am

Have no say in what I do. You say these spiteful things Only because, You don’t think, You don’t know, You don’t care.

I have nothing to prove to you.

As I say these words, I know that they are true, And I realize, It’s not just one percent, It never was and never will be. It’s everyone.

Yes that one percent Is like me when it comes to race But Chinese American is not all I am. Not not at all!

I am so much more Then what you see me as.

It’s not just one percent, And it never ever will be. We are all the same, Yet still so different.

We are all human.

About the Author

Sophie Zhou is a sixth-grade student at the Sippican Elementary School in Marion, Massachusetts.

CO-EDITORS

Elaine M. Bukowiecki

Valerie Harlow Shinas

Designer

Nadege D. Tessono Okotie

Mra Executive Board

Pattie Kelley: President

Valerie Harlow Shinas and Nancy Witherell: Immediate Past Co-Presidents

Patricia Crain de Galarce: President-Elect

Adam Brieske Ulenski: Vice President

Laurie Heaney: Vice President-Elect

Shantel Schonour: Secretary

Jo Ann Thompson: Treasurer

Sarah Fennelly: Webmaster

For information about MRA and how to become part of the exciting work we are doing to promote literacy, visit our website at https://massreading.org/