by Laura Shovan
They didn’t take their naps.
That’s how come
I wrote this extra poem.
Because I spent a lot of time
alone in my room. I finally get why
people want to save Emerson.
Losing our school is like
losing home, the place
where everyone understands you.
When my dad came upstairs
to get me for dinner, he said sorry
for what the boys did. He said
he’d buy me more chocolate.
But it won’t be the same because
they won’t be my mom’s
hugs and kisses,
and this will never feel like home.
February 18
CALLED DOWN
George Furst
I had it all planned,
how I’d call my dad
and tell him Mrs. Stiffler
was sending our petition
to the Board of Education
and how Dad gave me the idea!
Then I’d ask him to come home
and help me write my speech
to the Board and the superintendent
of schools.
But that’s not what happened.
Mrs. Stiffler called us down today.
She told Rennie, Norah,
Edgar, and me how proud she was
of our initiative. But she sighed
and said there is nothing
one principal and a group of fifth graders
can do to change the mind
of the mighty, all-powerful
Board of Education.
I faked it, acted like I was okay.
Don’t worry, I told Rennie,
Norah, and Edgar in the hall.
We’ll think of something.
We’ve been working all year
to save our school.
I can’t let my friends
think it’s over.
I can’t tell my dad
our petition failed.
February 19
IN THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE
Rennie Rawlins
Tip tap tip tap, the secretary’s fingers
sound like rain on her keyboard.
We walk to Mrs. Stiffler’s office,
me, George, Edgar, and Norah.
Boom baboom goes my heart,
heavy as a thunderstorm.
“What’s this about?” Mrs. Stiffler sniffs.
Her nose is turning purple,
but her voice stays calm.
She slides our petition across her desk.
My voice shakes worse than a scared rabbit
when I tell her our class
is learning U.S. history
and part of that history
is standing up for our rights.
Mrs. Stiffler’s office is quiet as a cloud,
but when she says no,
she won’t send our petition to the Board,
it’s a lightning bolt. The skies darken.
The downpour begins.
Edgar, Norah, and I shuffle down the hall.
No one wants to hear George’s pep talk.
The whole class rushes up
when we walk in the door.
Our stormy faces give us away.
Ms. Hill says she’s sorry.
The girls hug me. The boys say,
“Hey, you tried,” but all I can think is…
what am I going to tell Phoenix?
February 20
BAD NEWS
Edgar Lee Jones
The bad news is, our petition failed.
The Board won’t ever know
some fifth graders wanted to save Emerson.
The worse news is
my grandpa is still in the hospital.
Sometimes he doesn’t
recognize me.
I wish I could write a petition
to the doctors, or to God,
to make him better.
I wish I could talk to Grandpa
about the bad news.
February 23
JAPANESE PAINTING
Rachel Chieko Stein
I love sweeping the soft hairs of the brush across my palm.
I love rolling the brush in ink and water.
I love watching our art teacher’s hands, teaching us to hold the brush right.
I love how Mr. Musay calls the hand position Tiger Mouth.
I love the dragonfly appearing on my paper.
I hate hearing from the next table, “Duh, of course she’s good at Japanese painting.”
I hate the hard words Sloane says, pretending to be nice. “I love your painting, Rachel.”
I hate when she bumps my elbow and spills my ink.
I hate how she acts as if she’s sorry.
I love how Mr. Musay swirls the ink blot into a water lily.
I love how he shows my painting to the whole class.
February 24
TISSUES
Sydney Costley
I have never seen
Rachel cry
before today.
I have seen her trip
over a jump rope
and skin her knee
on the blacktop
and say, “I’m fine.”
I have seen her
not getting picked
for a part in the play
and pretend
to shrug it off.
But before today
I never saw
anyone
make her cry.
Good thing
I was there
to hand her tissues
under our desks.
She squeezed my hand.
Then she smiled
a little, back to being
my Rachel.
February 25
REMEMBER
Hannah Wiles
For S.B.
Remember second grade?
Our class had a stuffed dog
named Spike.
Everyone took turns
bringing Spike home.
We wrote down
all the things Spike did
in a blue notebook.
When my turn was over,
Spike went home with you
for the whole weekend.
I was so sad!
I didn’t want to give up Spike.
I was crying in the book closet
when you came in
and asked me what was wrong.
You rubbed my back
and said, “Don’t be sad, Hannah.”
And you asked your mom
if I could sleep over
so I could spend one more day
with Spike. Before that day,
I’d never really noticed you.
Afterward, I thought we’d stay
best friends forever.
February 26
FOUR SQUARE
Shoshanna Berg
1) At the beginning of fifth grade
we played Four Square at recess every day.
Hannah was always QUEEN,
bouncing the ball and hitting it to me.
I stood in the PRINCESS square
just like in school, next to Hannah
because we were best friends.
I bounced and hit the ball
to Sloane, who always played MAID.
2) Hannah is like a rubber ball,
bouncing from one girl to the next.
Gentle one minute, then hitting hard
at Brianna in the DUNGEON.
Hannah always made Brianna miss
so she’d stay in the last spot.
Then one day Hannah hit the ball hard at me.
I missed. I had to stand in the dungeon.
I was so mad.
3) So I quit the game. For a week,
I stayed inside at recess, helping Ms. Hill.
But fifth grade is a lot like Four Square.
If you wait long enough
you move through the squares,
even when it feels like
you’ll be in the dungeon forever.
Now I play with Norah,
Rennie, and Rachel.
4) We make up funny stuff.
“Lunch Tray” Four Square
is Baby Carrots, Applesauce,
Sloppy Joes, and Chocolate Milk.
No one feels bad about
being in the Chocolate Milk square.
I’m back in the game.
Four Square is fun
when no one’s in the dungeon.
February 27
GIRL TALK
Sydney Costley
I asked my mother why
all the fifth-grade girls
had to stay in Ms. Hill’s room
while the boys in our class
went to Mr. Musay’s art room
to talk about bodies and stuff,
because that’s really private.
My mom said some parents
don’t talk to their kids
about that kind of thing, so
everyone has to learn it at school.
She said she would always
answer my questions
and I should never
feel ashamed.
I don’t even know
what my questions are.
But I know
I’m not like the girls
who crack up every time
Ms. Hill says “puberty.”
I wasn’t the one
who started throwing
samples of feminine products
across the room.
It looked like a snowball fight.
A dozen maxi pads
flying over our heads.
March 2
DISGUSTING DISCUSSION
Jason Chen
I’d rather dissect owl pellets,
bird vomit filled with bones.
I’d rather Mrs. Stiffler
called my mother on the phone.
I’d rather hit my head in gym
so I’d get a concussion.
Anything to get me out
of this Disgusting Discussion.
March 3
ODE TO RECESS
Ben Kidwell
Twenty minutes of air.
Twenty minutes of dirt.
Twenty minutes of sky.
Twenty minutes to play.
Twenty minutes without any pink notes asking which girl I like.
Twenty minutes with no chairs, no pencils, no tests with round bubbles to fill in.
Twenty minutes till the recess monitor blows her whistle.
Twenty minutes of wondering whether the tall trees behind our school will get cut down in June.
Twenty minutes outside.
Twenty minutes of almost-freedom.
March 4
SHOW-AND-TELL
Rajesh Rao
I brought a jar of tadpoles.
I caught them in the pond
behind my house.
They are moving,
wriggling black dots
in the water.
Half the girls said, “Ew!”
but Newt kept staring
at the tadpoles.
He asked me to be partners
for the science fair.
It’s better than working alone.
Every Saturday, I grab my net,
run outside, meet Newt
at the frog pond.
We catch tadpoles,
take pictures to record
how much they’ve changed.
Every week, their tails are shorter,
stumps on their sides
transform into legs.
Every Saturday,
I say Wow. Who knew
Newt was so much fun?
March 5
CARDINAL WATCH
Norah Hassan
This winter was so gray
until I saw a flash of red
in the trees behind our apartment building—
a cardinal. Spring is near.
I put birdseed on my windowsill.
One morning when I woke up
he was there. So close!
My father said if I left more seeds
the cardinal would bring his wife.
She has dull feathers but a pretty beak.
It’s almost pink. I drew pictures of them
in my science project journal.
My father says they are building a nest
in the woods between our apartment building
and Emerson’s soccer field.
They use twigs, leaves, grass, and hair.
Each night, I take a few strands of hair
from my brush and leave them with the seeds.
My sister thinks this is disgusting,
but I think my hair will make the nest as strong
as a hudhud’s nest in Jaddi’s lemon tree.
The mother cardinal will weave my hair
into her little bowl of twigs
to keep the eggs protected from wind.
I hope the nest stays safe all spring,
even if the builders clear some trees
to make space for the new supermarket.
March 6
HUNTING FROGS WITH RAJ
Newt Mathews
I see a pond in my neighborhood.
I hear northern spring peepers
calling to female frogs.
Whoosh! Raj’s net splashes into water.
I feel something slimy in the net.
A tan frog squirms in my palm.
Hyla crucifer is the scientific name
for the frogs we are tracking.
They are the size of my thumbnail.
They are louder than my baby sister.
Raj is my science partner now.
I taste the juice my mom packed for us.
I smell the buttered popcorn
Raj brought to share. Crunch!
March 9
HAMMY POWER!
Jason Chen
My hamster’s name is Refried Beans.
He poops a lot when he eats greens.
His favorite things are his hamster wheel,
carrots, nuts, and an apple peel.
How much energy does he cause
running fast on tiny paws?
Dad hooked the wheel to an amp meter.
I took readings, ’cause I’m no cheater.
I spent three hours on calculations,
wrote the report, and took notations.
Even if he runs all night,
one hamster can’t turn on a light.
And it would take a trillion hammies
to fuel a car down to Miami.
I like doing science at school.
(Katie said my project was cool.)
March 10
WHY?
Katie McCain
Why does he loan me his favorite books?
Why does he give me those puppy-dog looks?
Why won’t he pass me when we run the mile?
Why does he have such a sweet, goofy smile?
Why does he like me? I can’t work it out.
I’m crazy. I’m messy. I’m weird and I shout.
My toenails are silver. I dyed my hair blue.
I wrote “Hamster Hater” on top of my shoe.
Was it something I said? What could it be?
Out of all the fifth graders, why does he like me?
March 11
RAINY DAY POEM
Ben Kidwell
drip drip drip
Teacher. Hey, Teacher!
drip drip tap
Roof’s leaking again.
drip tap tap
My desk needs a bucket
tap tap tap
whenever it rains.
tap tap splash
The rain is a drummer.
tap splash splash
It beats out a tune
splash splas
h splash
that gets louder and louder
splash splash flash
and ends with
kaBOOM!
March 12
THE FIELD
Rajesh Rao
Yesterday at recess,
Ben said
he wanted to show me
and Newt something
on the soccer field.
It was a tire mark
with treads deep enough
to hold a puddle.
In the water, we saw
squirming tadpoles.
Newt and I held some
cupped in our hands.
How will the tadpoles
grow into frogs
if this field
is a parking lot?
March 13
TURTLE
Edgar Lee Jones
Made from walnut shell
Green felt for feet, head, tail
Sitting in my hand
I put it on the table
By his bed
March 16
RIGHT NOW
George Furst
Right now
in Ms. Hill’s fifth grade,
eighteen students
are quietly
writing poems.
Right now
members of
the Board of Education
are touring
Emerson Elementary.
They’re getting closer
to our classroom.
This morning
someone covered
the fifth-grade hall
with posters.
Right now,
everywhere I look,
I see three small words,
Save Our School.
Three big letters,
SOS.
Right now,
I’m wondering…
will Mrs. Stiffler
be proud
of our initiative?
March 17
NO ONE KNOWS
Rennie Rawlins
No one knows
who put up all those posters before school this morning.
No one knows
who had a poster party at their house last night.
No one knows