we magazine spring 2009

8/14/2019 WE Magazine Spring 2009

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Table of Contents

Yellow (Friendship) Page 3Green (Nature) Page 9Red(Love) Page 14Purple (Hope and Imagination) Page 21Blue (Contemplation) Page 31

Dear Reader,

This years WE Magazine is a celebration of our unique and diverse personalities,which, of course, are most visible in our art and our writing. Our magazine isorganized by color, and each color represents a different topic. Green represents

nature, yellow represents happiness, red represents love, blue representscontemplation, and purple represents imagination and hope. We have tried to include a range of ideas and subjects, artistic styles, and opinions, and themagazine you are holding most definitely reflects the middle school. Thank youfor your submissions and your support!

The Staff of WE Magazine

Front cover illustration- Spying on Lifeby Tori (pencil sketch with digitally-added

color). Front and back cover design by Kai (Kylie).


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Friendship Mrs. Van Gogh Trims the FBouquetby Elizabeth (inspireby Van Goghs Vase with Daand Anemones, 1887)

Cheer


4/40

Before I was me I was a gazelle.I was always surrounded by my herd who loved and

cared for one another.I would skip, and hop, and sing my joyful and silent

gazelle song.There were always cheetahs and lions around,

ready to strike.All gazelles could go where they like,As long as they stayed near the herd.But when the herd was attacked by a cheetah,Two of my favorite elder gazelles had died.

After that I was extremely sad.I would not skip. I would not hop.My gazelle song was sad and lonely.

A day later our herd was attacked by lions.The rest of the herd was all grouped together,except me.

But I was small and an easy target,I was surrounded by the lions.They were closing in on me.It began to rain,As if the sun could not bear to watch.

I then saw myself in a puddle of rainwater.I looked awful, and not myself.

Tears were soaking up my face,And my heart felt like it was sinking into a dark hole.Only one spark was lighting that abyss,And it was happiness.I then remembered who I am,And I saw the sun filter down from the clouds.I sang a happy song as I skipped in the only space left.A lion pounced, but I did not even fear.I gave a great leap over the lions.My song was so happy,And so optimistic that it scared the lions away.Now whenever I am in doubt and sorrow,I search myself to find courage,And the cheerfulness that has always been there forme.

Katie

gazelle excuCast of Characters:Bill Trouble Maker, Funny, AmiableMr. Glair Strict, Bossy, SkepticalPrincipal Peters Amiable, Gullible

As the curtain rises, Bill is sitting in a classroom aGlair is checking for homework. Bill has not donelooking quite nervous and guilty. Cacti is written o

Mr. Glair: Now everyone, please take out your essathe Average Life of a Cactus.

When Mr. Glair sees the nervous look on Bills facread the first paragraph of his essay.

Mr. Glair: Bill, why dont you read the first paragrayour essay?

Bill: Ahh, Mr. Glair, my best pal, my favorite teachmentor, the one that always helps me when I

Mr. Glair: (looking irritated). You dont have it, do

Bill:Ahh, the word "dont," thats one of my favoriwords, such rich meaning. I mean, I wish I had thou

combining the words "do" and "not." I mean, SUCHPLEXITY. As for my homework, I think "dont" is strong for my homework.

Mr. Glair: COME SEE ME, NOW!(Mr. Glair shou

Bill:Why certainly, Mr. Glair, and did I mention yolooks spiffy today?

Mr. Glair: Im NOT WEARING A TIE!!(shouting aing very angry)

Bill:Well if you were, it would be spiffy. (smiling)

Bill gets out of his seat and turns to face Mr. Glairback to the door.

4


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, excuses: a one-act play: I believe the question you asked me is why I donte my homework. This is a very simple question, yet its not have a simple answer. In fact, it has a quite com-x answer that I am sure you will find fascinating.

his point Principal Peters walks in the classroom carrying a clip-rd. Since Mr. Glairs back is turned, he does not see the principalk in. The principal takes a seat directly behind Mr. Glair.

:You see, Mr. Glair, I was outside enjoying the daywas taking a walk. I stepped in a puddle. I thought itjust water, but it turned out to be acid rain (when he

s this, Principal Peters looks horrified). The acid burned ae in my shoes, so then I had to go out and buy some

shoes. (he takes his shoes off and holds them up. Principal Pe-gives him the thumbs up sign)

: I finally thought I could do my homework. But then,came home and found out our house had been robbed ll the milk. My parents started freaking out becauseght was apparently their annual cereal party. Appar-y they invite every single living person that they knowr so that they can all "experience" new cereals. It's al waste of time, but my parents are crazy. So theygged me to the store to get milk. But they were out of

k, which really ticked me off because the commercials(starts singing a jingle) Supermarket, The place that hasERYTHING! Well, guess what?? THEY DONTNKN HAVE EVERYING!(at this Principal Peters puts hisd in his hands and sobs silently.)But fortunately, the nexte had some.

:I finally thought that I could get my homework done.right as I was about to start, my mom called me

wnstairs and asked me to try this new kind of cereal.l, apparently Im REALLY allergic to something in the

al, so I started gagging. I was rushed to the hospital,under sleeping pills, and didnt wake up until thisning. Fortunately, I was fine and able to go to school.I had such a horrible day yesterday; I just couldnt fit

my homework. Im sure you understand.

Mr. Glair: You think I am stupid enough to believe that?Maybe our stupid mess of a principal would believe that,but not me!Principal Peters stands up, looking shocked - Mr. Glair,what did you just say about me?Mr. Glair: P-P-P-P-Principal Peters. I didnt know youwere here. See, I was just comparing you to EinsteinYeah, Einstein.Principal Peters- You know, I think that a little respectmight go a long way. But you lost your chance. If youdont get out of this classroom in the next five seconds

Mr. Glair: No, Please give me one more chance!!

Principal Peters: Five Mr. Glair: (down on his knees)Im SORRY!

Principal Peters: Four, three, two, one, SCRAM. NowBill, I completely believe your story; you must have gonethrough so much. You are excused from all homeworkthis week.

Mr. Glair: What?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Principal Peters: GET OUT! (Leads Mr. Glair away and oroom)

Bill:Sweet, No HOMEWORK!

Sam, Thomas, and Robert

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french fries

Inspired by KyI was eleven,

in the seventh grade,and having the worst time of

my life.We were going bowling

as a seventh grade.I was so excited,

as we drove to the alley.We listened to G105,

with Kiran and Mel singing inthe back of the bus.

When we arrived,I met up with my best friends.

We had signed up to bowl together,and were ready for the greatest timeof seventh grade.

After each gutter ball we would high five and go absolutely crazy,not caring our friend had failed miserably

(Maybe because of the fries that we were worshiping after every ball)After that day I realized it was one of my happiest moments.

On that day I was just like a little kid again,all of my fears whisked away.

For two hours of my life.(Maybe because of the fries)

Kevin

S w iss M iss. Ce ra m ic la m p

c rea ted b y Da n ie l la


7/40

The gardener came to tell me todayI bring bad news, he warned me, The tourists have just come and seen Now, please, sir, come and see yourself The White House paint is peeling

It was true, I did admitThe gardener had said what was trueI felt embarrassed, I confessAnd I hate feeling blue The White House paint is peeling

The Cabinet met at once

To discuss the budget and duesI need help, I must confessI dont know what to do The White House paint is peeling

Oh, the disgrace, oh, the disgraceIf the newspapers found outId never live it down, And my people would be filled with doubt The White House paint is peelingAnd yet because we paid off debt,Our budget is stretched thinTheres no way to end this mess There is no way to win The White House paint is peeling

So in the end we did concludeThe best thing we could doIs go into debt to buy the paintWithout further ado The White House paint is peeling

Mr. President, be careful, I was cautioned on all sidesIf we borrow more than this, A disaster will arise The White House paint is peeling

You see, we had just paid off our debt Tiger Lillies . Digital Photograph by Rachel

Im writing my speech, or I should be; Im planning what to say The people will be mad, you seeIt will not be a very good day

The White House paint is peeling

It really is necessary to paint the White House, tooThe scars are showing now, from the fire long agoIm sure they look just hideous Nobody will be glad to know The White House paint is peeling

And as the President, Im blamed Which really isnt fair I do keep up with the White House

I really do care The White House paint is peeling

I suppose that sleep will help,And that is what Im hoping. So, to write my speech is what I must do,In order to stop the moping The White House paint is peeling

Katie

the white house paint is peeling.


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we roll as one

We roll as oneWe rock the sound

We dance to the rhythm like an ongoing songWe listen to the wavesOf our foot tapping beat

We roll as twoWe rock the music

We dance to the sound of a spinning DJWe listen to the motionOf our foot tapping beat

We roll as threeWe rock the voices

We dance to the pulse of a music-filled heartWe listen to the feelingOf our foot tapping beat

We roll all togetherWe rock, dance, and listen

To the waves, to the motion, to the pulse, to the feelingOf our foot tapping beat

-Shay

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10/40

Lt Color, chaud, camping

Leau claire de locan crie moi. Coquillage, coucher du soleil, pique-niques

Lt

SummerColorful, hot, camping

The clear water of the ocean calls out to me.Seashells, sunsets, picnicsSummer

Laura, Kai (Kylie),and Sydney

B rea t h ta k i n g F l u r r ies As mo r n i ng co mes

,

A w h i te b la n ke t l ies o u ts ide o f m y w

i ndo w.

I t wa i ts to t ra ns fo r m i n to s t u n n i ng w

o r ks o f a r t.

S no w a ng les a nd ic ic les s u r ro u nd me,

As bea u t i f u l as g l is te n i ng s i l ve r nec k l

aces.

M y mo t he r ma kes ho t c hoco la te

T ha t tas tes l i ke p u re e nc ha n t me n t.

T he wa r m t h a nd t he f la vo r

F i l ls m y mo u t h a nd m i nd w i t h jo y.

I wa n t to sa vo r t h is mo me n t fo re ve r.

I r u n to jo i n m y f r ie nds

To he l p c rea te a s no w ma n.

O u r s m i les dazz le l i ke t he s u n,

W ha t a n e n jo ya b le s no w s u r p r ise.

C a r o l i n e

F ul l Sa il . Dig it al P hot og r a ph by Shannon

10

L h i ve r G lac, b lanc, a ux c hande l les

Les f es b lan c h es m en t o u r en t .

Jo u r f ri, c hoco lat c ha ud, c htaignes

L h i ve r

Winte r F reezing, w hite, cand le lit

W hite f ai ries s u r ro und me. Ho lida ys, hot c hoco late, c hestn uts

L a u r a , K y l i e ( K a i ) , a n d S y d n e y


11/40

The teeth increase the surface area of the food To keep its mixture with the digestive chemicals in a good mood.

The salivary gland Is definitely not bland!

It contains saliva,Which has so many functions its practically aliva!

Mucin, anti-bacterial agents, and protecting agents are all part of the deal,But the salivary amylase also has quite an appeal!

The Pharynx is commonly known as the throat If I had the chance, it is that which I would kindly promote

The epiglottis is a flapThat prevents a windpipe mishap

Between the pharynx and the stomach, the esophagus is placed Through this, peristalsis makes the food race

Part of what makes the stomach fantasticIs the fact that it is pretty elastic

Although the stomach has mucous,Hydrochloric acid and pepsin are some of the stomachs gastric juices

One of the stomachs infamous crimes Is back flowing, into the esophagus, acid chyme.

I will tell you about the small intestineBecause sometimes it tends to raise a few questions

Bile and enzymes are secreted by the pancreas and liver,Because of this, Id say its not such a giver.

After breaking down the nutrients as best as they canIt is given to the blood stream secondhand The villi and microvilli do have a purpose

They increase the area of the surfaceThe Duodenum makes up the first section

Which uses so many chemicals, many would consider it perfection.

The large intestine is not a jokeBecause of its lack of oxygen, the Magic School Bus Kids should have choked

As a collection,Wastes are gathered from digestion.

To the rectum and anus it is then transferred,Though thinking about it is not preferred.

Infections result in diarrhea,Which causes many to cry, Mama Mia!

When too much water is absorbed and the feces departure is put on probation This, my friend, is called constipation.

Emily

mama mia! 11


12/40

satisfying the senses

We hear the sound of peaceful wavesclimbing up the sizzling sand.

We catch the sight of the wind lifting the colorful kitesacross the never-ending blue sky.

We feel the sea shells crackling and crunchingbeneath the touch of our feet.

We taste the salty mist of the refreshing waterdrizzling on our sun-burnt lips.

We smell the fishermans bait as they cast their rods

far from shore, hoping for tonights fishy dinner. We sit on the crumpled sandy towel

and gaze at our magnificent surroundings.

The ocean,Whats not to love?

Gabrielle

Mr. Monet Hang Glidesby Marion (inspired byClaude Monets Woman with a Parasol MadameMonet and Her Son, 1875)


13/40

what is light?

What is light?Light is something that shines in the sun, the stars and anythingIt is heat that shows through your skin in anger and embarrassmentLight is something that is any colorSome people see it as red, I see it as gold

What is light?Light can be good or bad Light is the blazing hot doughnuts that you eat on a Sunday morningThe cold ice cream that you eat on a summer dayThe creamy sunscreen that you put on yourburning skin

What is light?Light can be the reason you go to church

Or something that shines in your eyesEven a long walk through a deserted alleywayOr the words you learn in language arts class

What is light?Light is the Devil with his steaming pitch forkGod with his glowing heartLove that shines through usLight is poetry

Rachel

Saddlebrook SunsetDigital Photograph by Anastasia

tree Outside my window theres a tree I feel that it shows its green leaves just for me

The rough barkLooks stiff and stark

Next to delicate flowersI used to spend hoursUnder that tree

That I felt showed its leaves just for me I fearMy dear

That years have been lostAt a great cost

That I havent spent under that tree That used to show its leaves just for me

Isabelle

Versailles Gardens. Digital Photograph by Lydia.


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Section cover goeshere!!

Love


15/40

The class was working on subtraction,And the teacher said:2 1 = 1 So the little girl asked the teacher,What does minus mean? And the teacher said: Minus means to take away The little girl thought about it forawhile.And looked to the back of the class,And smiled,Then put it out of her mind.

The class was talking about the life of a moth,

And the teacher said:The life of a moth is very short So the little girl asked the teacher,What does life mean? And the teacher said:Life is how long you are living and breathing The little girl thought about it forawhile,And looked to the back of the class,And smiled,

Then put it out of her mind.The class was talking about spelling,And the teacher said:Never is spelt n-e-v-e-r So the little girl asked the teacher,What does never mean? And the teacher said:Never means not for eternity The little girl thought about it for awhile,And looked to the back of the class,And smiled,Then put it out of her mind.

On the walk home from school,The little girl ran to catch up with the little boy.The little boy that sat at the back of the class,

She told the boy:I learned a lot today what did you learn? And the little boy said:I learned about the life of a moth, And how to spell never,And how to minus one thing from another. Then he asked the little girl:

What did you learn today? And the little girl said,I learned that I never want to minus you from mylife. Then she looked at him and smiled And skipped all the way home.

Erin

Pencil sk et ch by T or i

minus life never.

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16/40

Dear Mother and Georgiana,

I hope this letter finds you well. Icannot thank you enough for letting Marianne livewith you until I return.

Mother, keep your spirits up and rememberwhat we are fighting for: life, liberty, and the

pursuit of happiness, which is how a Mr. Jeffersonof Virginia so eloquently states our goals. I knowyou must be going through a hard time, rememberingFather, but this is what I must do. I will alwayslove you.

Georgiana, listen to Mother and be nice toMarianne. She admires you so much. Remember to wearyour apron when you write because the last thingMother needs is another one of your dresses to beruined. Be strong and remember that your brotherloves you.

May I always remain your devoted son and brother,

James

De a r M a r i a n n e ,

I t hi n k a b o u t y o u

e v e r y m o m e n t of t h e d a y . W e

h a v e n o t s e e n c o m b a t y e t , b u t a r e b e i n g c h a s e d

a l l o v e r c r e a ti o n ! W e ' r e a b o

u t t o c r o s s i n t o

t h e c o l o n y o f P e n n s y l v a n i a .

I t s e e m s l i k e I ' v e

b e e n a wa y f o r 5 y e a r s i n s t e a

d o f 5 we e k s . M a n y

o f t h e m e n h e re h a v e wo m e n w

a i t i n g f o r t h e m a t

h o m e . Th a t i s wh a t g i v e s u s t

h e s t r e n g t h t o

m a r c h o n t h r o ug h t h e b i t t e r c

o l d , e v e n t h o ug h

m a n y o f u s d o n' t h a v e s h o e s .

Ge n e r a l W a s h in g -

t o n i s t r y i n g t o k e e p t h e m o

r a l e o f t h e t ro o p s

h i g h , b u t we ar e d e s p o n d e n t .

I wi s h I wa s b a c k

h o m e wi t h y o u . I ' m s o r r y I d

o n ' t h a v e m o r e

t i m e t o wr i t e , b u t I m u s t g o

t o h a v e b r e a k-

f a s t . S a y h e l lo t o e v e r y o n e

f o r m e .

Yo u r a f f e c t i o na t e h u s b a n d ,

J a m e s

Home to You at Last:An original story b

D e a r e s t J a m e s ,

I m i s s y o u a s w e l l . Y o u h a v e n o i d e a h o w m u c h j o y r e c e i v i n g y o u r l et t e r b r o u g h t m e . I l o n g f o r y o u t o c o m e h o m e , b ut a m t r y i n g t o a c c e pt t h at i t i s y o u r d ut y t o f i g h t f o r o u r f r e e d o m . I

h a v e b e e n t a k i n g o n m o r e d ut i e s at h o m e , t o o . W i t h y o u g o n e , m a n y o f t h e w o m e n h e r e h a v e h a d t o t e n d

t o t h e l i v e s t o c k t h e m s e l v e s , w at e r a n d w e e d t h e g a r d e n , a n d c o n t i n u e u p k e e p at t h e f a r m . I h a v e a l s o

b e e n k e pt b u s y s e w i n g s h i r t s f o r t h e m a n y s o l d i e r s t h at p a s s h e r e e a c h d a y . W e d o n t h a v e a l ot o f

e xt r a f o o d , b ut I d o g i v e w h at I c a n . I m o v e d i n w i t h y o u r m ot h e r a n d s i s t e r . I t i s n i c e t o b e w i t h p e o p l e w h o u n d e r s t a n d h o w m u c h I m i s s y o u . I a m g l a d t h at y o u h a v e n ot s e e n c o m b at y et . I t s c a r e s m

e t o t h i n k . . . o h I s h o u l d n ' t

e v e n p ut t h at t h o u g h t i n t o w r i t i n g . Y o u r s i s t e r a n d m ot h e r s e n d t h e i r l o v e a n d b e s t w i s h e s . I l o n g f o r

t h e d a y t h e c o l o n i e s w i l l g a i n t h e i r f r e e d o m a n d y o u c a n r et u r n h o m e t o m e . U n t i l t h e n , I r e m a i n y o u r l o v i n g w i f e , M a r i a n n e

M y d e a r b r o t h e r ,

O h h o w I m i s s y o u ! I t r y m y b t r u t h f u l l y s a y t h a t I b e l i e v e M

f r i e n d s . M o t h e r i s f i n e , b u t y o u

F r e n c h a n d I n d i a n W a r , i t i s h

r e m i n d h e r o f w h a t y o u a r e f i g h t

s a f e l y a s s o o n a s p o s s i b l e .

A l l m y l o v e ,

G e o r g i a n a M Ird

wI Y

M

My dear family,

A joyous Christmas this is indeed!we crossed the river in boats andby surprise. We burst into theirevidently partaken of too much drfore. They surrendered, so now, ioners, we have food and supplies.for our troops and everyone is vermander Washington. Perhaps I willsoon.

God Bless,

James


17/40


18/40

I stood by my lockerSlowly, automatically,Shoving my binder into its depthsWith the repetition of the daily routineA strange feeling washes over me,And I look upToo see youStanding there in the hallwayOur eyes meetAnd I knowwhat's wrong.

You dash towards me,Your eyes filled with tearsStreaming down your facelike silver drops on a window paneYour head in your hands,You sprint into my armsSobbing and murmuring.

The world seems frozenAs you thrust your arms around meLeaning and shaking with your cries

The air seems so cold As my arms wrap around youEmbracing youProtecting you.

Your head lies on my shoulderTears falling onto the tilesMixing with mine in a small puddleWhere we stand.

I knew it,I always knew itI knew it wouldn't last.I knew he would leave youI knew it couldn't lastForever.

Katherina

never forever

C o n v e r s e . G r a p hic ar t b y K y l ie M ar sh

C o n v e r s e . G r a p hic ar t b y K y l ie

M y Do g. D i g i ta l P ho to g ra p


19/40

It was the beginning 5th grade when my Mombrought him home. A mist was coming down fromthe grey and depressing sky as I ran down the side-walk to the carpool line. It had been a long day atschool. I had been watching the clock since 2:00, ea-ger to greet my new friend. Finally, I went to my carand opened the door. There he was.

Lying in the back seat shivering from thecold was a dog. A black lab, to be exact. He had abig nose, small paws, and wide, friendly eyes. Hewas tiny; all four of his feet could have probably fitin my palm. He couldn t get settled in the car and was glad when we finally made it home.

I hadn t had a dog since my old dog,Winston, had died. He passed away at age nine be-cause he had cancer. I was very sad, but was eager to

get a new dog. It had been two years, and I wasready for a new dog.We had had the hardest time trying to name

my new dog. Finally, we came up with a name thateveryone agreed on. Since the Carolina Hurricaneshad just won the Stanley Cup, we decided to namehim Stanley

The most prominent thing about him washis head, especially the eyes. They were curious and friendly, inviting me to play. He was stocky, but notfat, and very quick on his feet. He wore a silly grin on

his face, and always looked as though he had justdrunk a Red Bull.I think I took about 100 pictures that first

day. The best one was of him running around, tail ablur, cross-eyed, with his new toy, a soft duck. Heloved to get up in my lap and shove that thingright on whatever I happened to be wearing. Usu-ally, when I got done playing with him, therewould be a wet spot about as big as a silver dol-lar on the place where he had attacked me.

Stanley was a rambunctious dog. Every min-ute, he was getting into trouble. Whether it wasstealing my socks or begging for table scraps, hewas always up to something. Perhaps the fun-niest thing he did was chew on the wall. Yes,he actually chewed on the wall in our kitchen.I don t know how he did it, but we camedownstairs one afternoon to find teeth markson the wall. He also chewed up cabinets, box-

ers, shoes, shoelaces, rocks, soccer balls, footballs,tennis balls, and the plants in our backyard (whichhappen to be poisonous to dogs.) That should have

taught him to stop chewing on everything ineyeshot, but of course it didn t. One time, he evengot two pairs of my babysitter s underwear in hismouth when she came to do her laundry and ranaround with it!

Stanley loved his toys. His all-time favoritewas his furry hot dog. It was a squeaky toy. When Ithrew it, He would leap, bound, and slide his wayalong the kitchen floor, falling at least twice beforegetting to the soft plastic toy covered in a thick layerof saliva. He would then trot back and lay it at myfeet, expecting me to put my hand in that goo and throw it again. Sometimes, when I would throw it,he would slip and go flying across the slick floor atfull speed until he crashed into a cabinet. He would then get up and try to find the ball, acting as though

nothing had happened.He also loved his blanket, which was a dirtytowel with rips in the edges that he carried around in his mouth. He would bring it to me, laying it atmy feet while I was watching TV, looking at mewith those expectant eyes and silly grin that mademe want to play. Somehow, he would convince meto get down on the floor and play tug-of-war, run-ning in circles until I finally had to give up.

Outside, he loved sports. Soccer was his fa-vorite. I would kick the ball and try to get it past

him, and he would jump on the ball so I couldn t.Then I let some air out of the ball so he could pick itup. He would steal it from me and sprint away, look-ing back with expectant eyes, wanting me to chasehim. Sometimes, I would chase him for 20 minutes ata time, diving all over the ground, trying to catch theflying fur ball that was going 50 mph on the ground.He also loved football, but he had to play defense.When I had friends over, he would actually tacklethem. He would jump in the air at full speed and crash into them. He would then stand on theirchests and lovingly slobber all over their faces and clothes.

Stanley really helped me get over theloss of my other dog Winston. My family had had Winston since I was a baby. Winston was a good dog, but somehow I think Stanley is better. He and Iare growing up together, and so we have a bond Winston and I never had. I think that Stanley is eve-rything you could ask for in a dog, and a little more,which makes him a true man s best friend.

Sam

a boys true best friend


20/40

drenchedThe tension buildsLittle fires grazing the grassUntil we start dancing faster and faster.Our little game called love.

Fires burn everything around us,And you look me in the eyes.Feel the passion.Our little game called love.

The rains come and justAs you think we re thriving, The wetness drenchesOur little game called love.

Anastasia

heartbreaksong lyrics written for guitar The sound of the waves crashing

Drowns out your hate, lashing outAt your fate.

You're standing here weeping, Just the sun knows your secret and she'sAsleep.

Those ten holes in the sand,Fill with your tears.The heals of your footprints are asDeep as your fearsThat the tide willNever change.

Gentle spray kisses away your heartbreak.The ocean breeze frees you from your heartbrLooks like you're moving on from your heartb

The seagulls are diving, and Your sad eyes are drying out-You're sighing.

Your tears mix with the ocean, but theSalt water won't begin to change it;This only mattered for you.

Looking down, you've found the world collapThe tide keeps stealing the ground away.Looking up, the heavens are bleeding,But look at you- you're doing okay.

Gentle spray kisses away your heartbreak.The ocean breeze frees you from your heartbrLooks like you're moving on from your heartb

Katie

Da y b rea k. D ig i ta l P ho tog ra p h ta ke n b y Ca m

i

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Hope

Dreams

Imagination

Violet Iris. Digital Photograpby Cami


22/40

somewhereSomewhere over in another place, there are people who do different things.There are people who side-step when they walk,

there are people who shiver when its warm.There are people who put their windows next to their stairs;

there are people who glow when they are outside.There are people who put on shorts in 20 degrees,

there are people who tip-toe when they are trying to be noticed.There are people who drink their chocolate ice cream with a straw,

even people who drink their water from a plate.

People who buy clothes with large blue circles pasted on the sides.People who crawl down the stairs, and wear wings when it is windy,People who go bananas over seeing a mechanical pencil,People who eat strawberries as ripe as a tart,People who run outside in the dark shadow of the day,People who grill salads until they become as brown as chocolate,

Even people who think the slow,whispering wind is their best friend calling them from a phone.

Somewhere in this far away place, somewhere where these people live,something is different.

They have different rules, different practices, and different ideas.But everywherethis is true; in this place it is only obvious.So if you ever want to visit this place, it is not very hard,Because it is called your imagination,and it is something everyonehas inside them.

Ivana

I once was a bead of water,Sitting peacefully in the sea.Then suddenly the sun shown bright,I quickly passed up through the treesI didnt know where I was going,But I knew I was going up above.

While I was happy to see the world around me,I missed the droplet that I loved.

I once was a raindrop,Living peacefully in a cloud.Then suddenly the wind blew hard,And as I fell, I bowed.I was now slowly declining,From my high up, quiet haven.I looked everywhere as I fell,I even saw a raven.

I once was a snowflake,Lying peacefully on the ground.Then suddenly, down came a foot,Running; homeward bound.

I now am a child,Existing peacefully in a home.I live a life so wonderful,There is nowhere for me to roam.

Sami

i once was M u s i c a l D r e a m s .

G u i t a r p a i n t e d b y K a t i e


23/40

Those days of August, humid, dry, and long, seemed destined to have more excitement than the constant confu-sion and curiosity of living in a new place. However un-accustomed I was to cobblestone streets, buildings inshades of cream and red that seemed to squat, low and fat, on the streets, and piazzas encrusted with pigeons,

the time was too slow. Italy, as far as I was concerned, held only one prospect of joy: My Dog.The burning sun of Tuscany was unfamiliar and I longed for the polluted, foggy skies of home.

Yet, that single beacon, visible just ahead past Gelateria Veneta, the Hotel Rex, and the train station, satisfied myhopes of happiness. My Dog, which was the name he became known by, was out there, waiting for me to comeand take him home. Maybe he was a golden retriever, maybe a terrier. It didnt matter. The only thing I cared about was that soon, Id be taking home a puppy who would become my best friend, our companionship remi-niscent of Arthur and Pal in the favorite books of my younger days.

I was impatient to get My Dog; I had always wanted the long-missed puppy that I would carryaround everywhere: a dog that would sleep in my room, at the foot of my bed, and be the best thing that could ever have happened to me, just like in books and movies. Fate nearly granted my wish just a few days after wemoved into Sandys villa in Pieve di Compito. The stuffy apartment that my family and I had rented for our firstItalian month had been deserted for the next group of tourists wishing to stay in the heart of the vivacioustown, and we moved into the white house. Though it gave the implication of a shady hideaway from the outside,on the inside the air was milk-curdling and the light filtered into nothing but steamed shadows.

Hey, Ted? Today were going to go look for a dog, okay? Theres a pound that has some puppiesready to move into their permanent home.

Really? Lets go! I replied to my father. Okay, but, these puppies may not be right for us, and we may not get a dog there. Uh huh. Can we go now? This was the work of fate that I had been waiting for, though I imagine I would have believed

more in the readiness of my parents than the willingness of fate. We left in the white rental car with the coarseseats. I couldnt stop talking and inquiring, of course, when wed arrive at the pound. We finally approached abuilding announced by the constant barking of dogs. There, we were greeted by the owner, a woman whose fea-tures do not stand out to me today. She took my father and me into a small room with a British couple who was

also interested in getting a dog.After we had waited for some time, she brought in three small boxers, all of whom ran around jumping up our legs and barking. I was surprised. I never thought about an energetic Boxer; the image of a Lab-rador lapdog (which was an unrecognized oxymoron at the time) was seared into my mind. But I wanted a dogbadly enough to agree that these dogs seemed great. At the very last minute, when my dad finally asked me if Iwas sure that I wanted one of these boxers, I said no. He told me wed find another, better dog, and then cheeredme by explaining that we probably wouldnt have been able to keep one of these dogs anyways.

Imagine what Charlotte would say, Dad mentioned, commenting on my younger sisters fear oflarge and noisy dogs.

Yes. Well have to find a quiet dog. But I would be fine with those dogs. Big dogs dont scareme. I dont think I quite enjoyed saying that when we walked out of the pound. The owner, after we had told

her that wed think about the dogs, had decided to take us out the long way, through the cages of the growndogs, in hopes that wed like one of those animals. They were large and not frightened of us at all. Instead theybarked loudly and I, contrary to my earlier declaration, grabbed my fathers hand and nearly pulled him out of the pound, all the while managing to hide behind him.

The real work of fate occurred when my whole family drove into Lucca, the town of which, had itbeen a bountiful metropolis, Pieve di Compito would have been a suburb of. It was not a bountiful metropolis,

i am Arthur, he is Pal:a memoir

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however. It was a small, yet elegant and beautiful town, with life around every street corner. The weekend mar-ketplace was set up in an open concrete expanse where western-European and African men verbally advertised their miscellaneous wares. The foreign women, wearing everything they owned, sold textiles. As my family and shifted through the ravines of Italian shoppers, perhaps examining animated purple cloth or a black umbrella,we arrived at the small plot of concrete set aside for dogs.

A tall, ginger-haired lady with a limp ponytail and a long nose protruding over her wide mouthstood above several laundry baskets holding puppies. The little dogs were yipping to each other vigorously,nearly overturning their baskets, or sitting almost sullenly in their plastic cages, their eyes shifting back and forth in nervousness. This was the state of the little black dog in his blue basket. This was the state of My Dog.

I knew it immediately. It was him. Everything about him, from his emerald eyes, to his soft and silky black fur, to his oversized ears was perfect. It was him. It was My Dog. He was sitting on the white towelthat was his baskets rug. It had been, however, stained with small yellow puddles. He was definitely nervous.Really nervous.

I knew it was him the minute I saw him, but Mom, Dad, and Charlotte werent as convinced. Hell be big, said my father. See his ears? When a dogs ears are big, it means the dog will to b

big, too. I dont like big dogs, said Charlotte. Youre just scared of them and if you get one, youll like them. I said. No Im not and now I like this dog- I just had to get used to him. I normally would have men-

tioned that the only reason she had gotten used to My Dog was because she didnt want to admit she wasscared, but I didnt really think that would sell the dog any better. Yeah! Can we get him? I dont know. We didnt want a big dog, remember? Mom said, trying to discourage us from

hoping that wed be able to get him. I know we didnt, I replied, Now we do. Well see, Mom said. At that moment I thought of Arthur Gets a Dog . Im a bit embarrassed to say

that I didnt think of Arthur actually getting the dog. Instead, I zoomed in on D.W.s response to a well see. Itgoes something like That means no!

As my parents were talking a few steps away, I inspected the dog again. I knew it. He was MyDog. His little eyes seemed to peer up at me, and for the briefest second, the nervousness disappeared and I

could have sworn I saw a twinkling smile through those cute emerald orbs.Whatre you going to name him? Charlotte asked. I dont know. What about Pal? No, not Pal. I like Esmeralda because he has green eyes! So he, yes,he, became Esmeralda. Just as my father was walking back, a pair of dachshunds ran over, yipping and squealing. Char-

lotte pulled back, but I let the sausage-dogs lick me.Make them go away, Daddy, she said. Im only used to our dog, other dogs Im scared of. We dont know if hes our dog, yet, Charlotte, Dad replied. Yes we do. Ted even has a name, Esmeralda. Well, Esmeralda may be a bit too big. You know how to say that in Italian? You saytroppo

grande. Hearing this, the ginger-haired owner came over and said Non grande, medio. Sara medio, mediodio, non grande, medio!

She says hell be a medium-sized dog. Yay! Then we can get him! Well see.

Digital photograph by Ted Waechter

24


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26/40

the towers in the skyThe two white towers in the skyReach up and striveAs if to imitate the trees,Blooming below.

Though white with the color of winterThey blaze with the power of RebirthAnd renewal.

The robins dart among the green spires below

While unearthly images and dreamsDance about the blank slateOf the counterparts in the sky.

And when I turn around They are gone,Replaced by the fresh blue of a robins egg And I know that someone elseCan see them now.

Adrienne

Sacre Couer, Paris, France. Digital Photograph by Lydia.


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Audrey! yelled her coach, leaning into the girls' lockerroom. Hurry up and get the water jug to the field! The boys arethirsty!

Ok, Coach! Audrey sighed and threw her shin guards inher bag as her soccer coach slammed the heavy locker room door shut. It was a little disturbing how freely hercoach let himself into the locker room, as if it were the boys' locker room. As she shouldered her bag, she la-mented how she was becoming more like a team manager than a player on the school team.

Audrey crossed the hallway of the gymnasium to the trainers room, glancing at the workout posters onthe wall, and picked up a large orange jug with Gatorade emblazoned on the front. She hefted the jug and staggered under its weight. Hunch-backed with the effort, she trundled through the door, only to walk straightinto something very large, which she gently bounced off of. She staggered backwards and dropped the con-tainer, which wobbled before righting itself on the floor. She found herself being glared down at by the schooltrainer, Mr. Calsinki.

Watch where you're going, missy! AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOURE DOING? the large man demanded angrily, in his haughty voice.

Sorry, I was just getting a water jug for my soccer te Her voice trailed off under his wilting stare. Not that, you ignorant girl! Those cleats! Audrey looked down and realized she had her cleats on. Oh, I'm so sorry Mr. Calsinki, Ill take them

off. She bent down, face red and hands sweaty, and started to fumble with her laces. Do you have any idea how much these tile floors cost to maintain? he insisted as she took off the cleats

How could they let such a clueless girl onto the school's soccer team? he asked --more to himself, than to her.Audreys face burned, and her heart stung, but she held her tongue, placed her cleats on the jug and side-

shuffled away. As she entered the hallway, she passed an older boy wearing metal cleats, the clacking noise of his footsteps echoing through the halls.

Oh, hes gonna get it! she thought viciously, waiting for the outburst of yelling that was sure to come. Instead, however, she heard a different tone floating down the hallway: Come on in, John. Have some

Gatorade. You really had a great play against St. George's in the game yesterday. Thank you, Mr. Calsinki. I think I will, came the voice of the boy. Audrey started hauling the jug along ferociously with the energy of the burning injustice. She pushed

past the few people roaming the halls with unnecessary violence and burst out the double doors toward the soc-cer field, positive that her hair was going to frizz up because of the steam that was sure to be coming out of herears. She stomped her way past a row of pine trees to the field, where the boys were just starting their "1,2,3 GOTIGERS!" chant, slammed the jug down on the bench, marched to the far side of the field, and plopped down onthe other bench.

Audrey stared sadly at her cleats that she had bought last summer back when she lived in Charleston.She had had to move here, a small, gloomy town called Pikesville, in Tennessee. Pikesville was so small that herschool only had a boys' soccer team, which Audrey was now forced to play on. Actually, she wasn't quite forcedto play on it, because she definitely wanted to play soccer, but she was forced because otherwise she wouldn'tbe able to play soccer at all. Her grandfather had taught her how to play when she was three, and it had been herpassion ever since. He had played on the team for Argentina when he was in his 20's, but he had died three yearsago. Audrey wanted to make him proud. In one of his final days, he had told her, "I hope you'll always think of

me when you play soccer, Audrey.""AUDREY!"Audrey resurfaced to the present. "AUDREY, PUT THOSE CLEATS ON AND WATCH THE GAME!

THE BOYS ARE STARTING TO PLAY!" the coach yelled at her furiously from across the field. Audrey frantically scrambled to knot her laces, and looked up, just as the ref blew his whistle to start the game.

"Way to go, Audrey," smirked Ryan as he took off after the ball. Audrey's blood boiled. I hate how all the

sporting strength

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guys treat me-- like I'm stupid-- and won't pass to me. I've never even gotten to play in a real game. I'm justas good at soccer as any of them, anyway. Its just because I'm a girl. And girls are weaker and delicate. Shehad heard the guys on her team grumble about this before, plenty of times.

Audrey looked up and started to watch the game intently, studying every move of every player. Jackwas passing the ball to Mark. One of the defenders from the Strikers was charging at Marks back like a line-backer. Audrey knew exactly what was coming, but by the time she shouted, Look out, Mark! it was toolate. Mark had been body checked by the Strikers' defender before the ball had even gotten to his feet.

Audrey stared at the ground. She couldnt watch Coach carry Mark off the field while he wiped theblood away from his nose. An instant fear shot through her entire body as she realized that Alex was outsick, Collin was in detention, and she was the only substitute. She was going in the game. She tried as hard as she could not to picture herself being carried off the field in Coachs arms, howling in pain, just as Markwas, on the side of the field.

Audrey! Can you do this? hollered Coach, in a slightly panicky voice, still on the other side of thefield.

Im ready to go, Audrey said nervously, to herself more than anyone else. The second Audreystepped onto the field, she knew she was in trouble. The Strikers played rough, probably rougher than shehad ever seen soccer before. It reminded her of the game her dad took her to last year, in Charleston. It was aprofessional game, in a large stadium. The rain crashed down, like cold buckets of water falling over their

heads in through the darkness. The stadium lights barely filtered through the torrents of water pouringdown on them to reveal a large, green field with 22 soaking men running and sliding through the miserablemud puddles. Men were being body-checked and slide-tackled right and left, and they were slipping and falling in the slippery mud. Hewitt passed Convoy the ball, but before he could trap it, a man slide-tackled Convoy from behind. Convoy, caught when he wasn't expecting it, tried to react, but his hands weren't fastenough to break his fall. He smashed face-first into the ground, and his shattered nose spurted glisteningruby blood everywhere.

Oomph! Audrey grunted as she fell to the ground. She had to pay more attention in a game like this.The player that pushed her over smirked as she looked up at him and then at the ref. The ref was facing theother direction. Clearly he hadnt seen Audrey get pushed to the ground. Or else, more likely, he didnt evencare.

Audrey knew she had to be tough to stay in the game with these guys. She thought back to last year.It was the league finals of her team in Charleston. She was on a girls' team then. The team they played, theBlaze, had some of the biggest girls Audrey had ever seen. They pushed her around then, but she foughtback. She just had to play like that, and she would be fine.

The next thing Audrey knew, she had the ball at her feet. She had stolen it from one of the Strikersmidfielders, and started dribbling up the field. One by one, she dribbled past the defenders until she was inthe goal box. It was just her and the goalie now. She pulled her right leg back, ready to take a shot. It wasperfect. She had the entire goal to work with. All she had to do was place the ball in the corner, and thegame would be tied 1-1. It was her chance. The crowd would go wild.

Audrey fell to the ground with another grunt. She had been slide-tackled by the biggest of the Strik-ers defenders, from behind. Audrey heard the refs whistle blow, calling a foul. It was a foul in the goal box,which meant someone on her team had to take a penalty kick on the goal. She tried to get up from theground so she could move out of the way so one of the boys could take the kick. She felt a sharp pain in herknee as she tried to stand, and she fell back to the ground. She could tell her knee was bruised and startingto swell, but she knew if she wanted any respect from her teammates or her coach, she would have to bestrong and get up.

Moonlit River . Graphic art by Nisha

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Audrey, get up! Youre taking the shot! Coach yelled from the sidelines. Im giving you a chancehere! Dont blow it!

Audrey stood up slowly, surprised, but very pleased. This was her big chance. It was her chance toprove herself worthy of being on the team. Her heart pounded nervously as she took the ball from the refereeand placed it in the spot he was pointing to. She took three steps backwards and stared at the goal. She fo-cused in on the bottom left corner of the goal. It was the perfect spot to place the ball. The ref blew the whis-tle, indicating for her to shoot the ball.The crowd roared. Audrey had placed the ball perfectly in the left corner of the net. The game was tied 1-1and her team was going crazy.

Come on guys, were in this now! We can take the lead! screamed the captain of Audreys team. The team was pumped up now. They were ready to fight back and be just as physical as the Strikers. Audreydidnt know what came over her. She was ready to fight, too. As the forward passed the ball back to the de-fense in the kickoff, she sprinted up the field and immediately stole the ball from the defender. He tried toslide-tackle her, but she saw it coming and raced out of the way, leaving him slide-tackling the spot she had been seconds before.

She passed the ball to Ryan, the forward, who sent the ball to Jack. Audrey ran up the field, and shewas wide open now. She called for the ball as loudly as she could. Jack obviously heard, but decided to ignoreher. He took a weak shot from far out, which rolled right to the goalie.Jack, pass the ball! Audrey was wide open! screamed Coach. Finally, she was getting some respect, Audrey thought.

The goalie punted the ball to his teammate, who quickly received the ball and sprinted towards a Ti-gers defender. He ran past two of the defenders and prepared to take a shot. Audrey watched as her teamsgoalie charged the player dribbling the ball. The player touched the ball past the goalie and had a wide opengoal. It was 1-2 now, and the Tigers didnt have long to catch back up.

Audrey was furious now. She wanted to win more than anything. The center midfielder passed herthe ball. She took the ball up the sideline and crossed it into the box. The goalie jumped up and tried to grabthe ball, but it slipped out of his hands and went out of bounds. Corner kick.

Audrey! I want you to take it! Audrey had never really taken corner kicks. That was always Cindys job on her old team. She drib-

bled the ball to the corner flag. She placed the ball next to the flag and backed up three paces. She looked upand saw Jack wide open in the middle of the goal box. She ran at the ball, raising her arm to signal that shewas going to kick it, and crossed it perfectly in front of the goal, flying through the air, straight to Jack. Heeasily headed the ball past the goalies hands and into the goal. 2-2! The game was tied again.

The other team took the kick-off, and Mark tried to steal the ball from the offender, but he pushed past him, pulled a fake on Ryan, who was sent sprawling in the other direction, and crossed it to his team-mate positioned right in front of the goal. The goalie, James, who had been facing the other offender, tried toturn, but the other player slipped the ball in behind him. Audrey's heart sank, and she stood there, furious atwhat they had just let happen.

The ref blew his whistle to signify a goal. Audrey took the kickoff, and they tried to fight back and getanother goal, but seconds later the ref took a final blow on his whistle. The game was over.

Audrey started to jog back to the sidelines, but then realized that the rest of the team was slouching

and dragging their feet as they went. She quickly slowed her pace, not wanting to go any faster than anyoneelse. As she approached the sideline, Coach tried to cheer up the team with false confidence.Good try, guys. You played your hearts out, out there, he began, but a look at their disappointed

faces quickly silenced him. Audrey tried to keep an indifferent outer appearance, but inside she was jumpingfor joy. She was overjoyed at finally being able to do something for the team. Still, she felt a little upset thatshe hadnt been able to drag the team to victory.

I could have done it if Id played the whole game, she thought to herself as she slapped hands withthe other team. She resolved to make sure to get Coach to give her more playing time.


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Audrey traipsed over to the bench and unfastened her cleats and shin guards. After rummaging around in her equipment bag, she found her sneakers and pulled them on. As she was about to get up and leave, ashadow fell over her. She looked up and saw her coach looking at her, a peculiar look on his face.

Uh, hey Coach Audrey stammered out, disconcerted by the lopsided mouth and half squinting eyesof her coach. A small silence followed.

Audrey, he started after a breath, I want you to know Im proud of what you did today and I Imsorry about ignoring you during the season. He looked a little ashamed.

Audrey was surprised; her coach was always a hard man, focused on training them, but he was neverreally their friend, and he never showed much emotion. Audrey wasnt sure what to say. Uh, thank- thanksCoach. Its okay, was the best she could come up with.

Okay. See you at practice tomorrow, he said, regaining his composure and walking off. Audrey smiled slightly as she collected her shin guards and socks and walked towards the gym. She

might actually be looking forward to practice.

Orlin, Julia, Aliza

T w o - t o n

T u l i p

. M o s a i c b y M a r k


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Picasso Gets a NewGuitar (Inspired byPablo PicassosOld

Guitarist , 1903) byJohn


32/40

You think you don't fit in

You think you should seem like them.But look at yourself.What do you see?

Look beyond those sea-green eyesLook at the person inside.Why do you need To be like everyone else?I like you how you are.

I dont care

who you think you areI dont careHow you lookI dont careWhat you say you areAll I seeIs beauty.

You may be different than meAnd you may be unlike themAnd you may be unusual to someBut when I look in your eyesYoure the same as me.

I dont carewho you think you areI dont careHow you lookI dont careWhat you say you areAll I seeIs beauty.

All I see

Is beauty.

Katherina

B l u e G i r l . Pe nc i l s ketc h b y To r i

sea green eyes

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Her eyes are like windows,Showing me what she is

thinking about,Or how she is feeling.

Her smile is a warm hug,Comforting me,

In my times of need.

Her heart is always therefor me,

A safe shelter for me whenIm sad.

Her hands reach out to mein warmth,

To shield me from myfears,

And to help me alongwhen I need guidance.

My life is never the samewithout her,

Without running with her,Without smiling with her,

Without laughing withher.

And each day I think abouther and wish,

That she would wake upfrom her permanent sleep.

When the sun rises I feelher smile.

When the sky is clear I seeher eyes.

But only in my heart do Isee HER.

Cari

my friend

Mary CassattsSisterText MessagesHerFriend. OilPainting by Aliza


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To be human is to make mistakes,To feel the pain of the fall.To be human is to believe

Even if we dont know. We die when our time is over.

To be human is to cryAs tears roll down your cheeks.

To be human is to smile,To feel the happiness absorb your

soul.To be human is to love

The love that is not yet lost. Erin

We are all. Shoes.Were stepped on Were used We are props for other people.Yes.We are all shoes.

We are all Birds.Trying to leave the nest.

looking for our wings.Searching for our independ-ence.Yes.We are all birds.

We are all. Windows.We are seen through.Clear.

People looking butNever seeing.Yes.We are all windows.

We are all ourselvesWe have feelingsWe make mistakes.We laugh and we hurtWe anger and we adore.Yes.We are all. Humans.

Mel

humans

to be human

Sunset . Digital photograph by Cami

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Hitler, among other things, stole my childhood.He stole the long hours in the classroom and the hotsummers playing with friends.Instead I was forcefully thrown into adulthood,Taking on responsibilities heavier than I was.The first time I was forced to walk in the wet gutter,With the wet muck sloshing on my feet,Seeing the looks on the peoples faces who walked on the sidewalk,Realizing that we were not all treated equal,I was growing older.

When my friends started disappearing,And I didnt know where they went, But I knew they werent returning, I was growing older.Walking to the market,Buying food for my family when it was illegal for a Jew to shop,Knowing that if I was turned in, much troublewould happen,I was growing older.When I was in the ghetto,

Slipping out through cracks in the large brick wall,The taste of danger in my mouth,Holding my breath as I slipped down the hill to getfood,Knowing the whole ghetto depended on me,I was growing older.Holding my two small cousins warm hands, Taking them to safety,In the warm straw of a Czech farmers hayloft,Knowing that one mistake could mean their death,I was growing older.Watching from the bushes,As thousands of men, women, and children dugtheir own graves,Were shot and pushed in.The smell of death and blood hanging in the air,The horrible sound of a Nazi voice asking for somevodka,I was growing older.Working for the Polish Underground,Eavesdropping on a Nazi officer,

I was growing older.In a concentrationcamp,Sitting in the back of a bunk,Trying unsuccessfullyto sleep sitting up,Instead, talking toGod,Asking Why? Why? Why? Wondering when the glorious day would come,

That my suffering would be over,I was growing older.Going to work one day,My best friend being pulled out of line,With the horrible shout Du! of the Nazi guards, Later seeing her hanging, dead, gone from theworld,Vowing never to become close to someone again,I was growing older.Working for the Nazis,Translating their orders,

Saved only because I could speak many tongues,Telling young men that they had to be in the army,That they might never return to their family,Sometimes lying to help them,I was growing older.Told to dig a hole,Digging my own grave,A whispered remark Slow down,And knowing that the end was near,I was growing older.Being rescued by the Soviets,Taken to a hospital and saved,Learning that kindness still exists,Wondering at the promise of America,I was growing older.Of all the many things Hitler took from me,One thing I will never repossessIs my childhood.

Nicole

growing older Inspired by Holocaust survivor Joann Abramson

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When I was younger I thought I knew That the military was all fun and games; there was never any real dangerThat the world revolved solely around me, and no one else mattered

That God would never allow for such disasters as famine and war to strike othersThat the world is wide open to everyone, no matter who you are or where you come from

Now that Im older I realize that The military is really a fight for survival, not a fun game against othersI must take others into account and must know that I will not always get my wayLife isnt perfect; even God can make a few mistakes Many people from families of lesser economic status cannot receive that same opportunities as thoseof the wealthy

If I had the chance I might try to help others understand the world and how they see it better

If I thought I could I would try not to believe all the lies I was told as a child in order to protect meWhy can people not be given the clean truth-- not the lies which fester like open wounds?

Chase

revelations

I wish I was still a kid,That I didn't have all this responsibility.

I wish I was still a kid,Pretend playing away my days,

Which were measured only in five minute time-outs.

I wish I was still a kid,Every story another world

To explore,And every day another adventure

To embark upon.

I wish I was still a kid,My only problems simple enough

To solve in a day,And all the trust in the world bestowed

Upon anyone who said "hello":Innocent until proven guilty,

A friend until proven an enemy.

I wish I was still a kid,My only fright the inhabitant of a movie,And my only injustice a game at school.

I wish I was still a kid,A smile that brightened the world,

A carefree confidence,And an absolute acceptance.

I wish I was still a kid.

Ted

still a kid

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Perfect A,She sits alone,

Holding the folder of perfectionPerfect Tests,

Reports,Quizzes,

And Homework,But she sits alone.

Her head bowed,Her hair messy and tangled,A bump on the edge of her cheek,

She is perfect,But she sits alone

Perfect B,She sits,

Holding the folder of Fs, Surrounded by a crowd of many

AdmirersAnd Friends,But she fails.

She sits,Staring at the folder,

Her blonde hair hanging,In a perfect curtain,

Her blue eyes shining,She is perfect,

But she fails.

Nisha

perfect a or

perfect b

P o o l w i t h w a t e r. G ra p h ic a r t b y N is ha

37

The brush glides gracefully across the rough canvasPaint oozes out of the tube like colorful toothpaste,Silky bristles dunk into the rainbow puddles,The artists hand waltzes across the blank sheet, As a trail of color emerges from behind,A hand reaches up and blots a sweaty brow,Wiping away worries.At last it is finished The once black canvas is now clad in a colorful suit of oranges, reds, browns, and blues.An audience is drawn like metal to a magnet.They devour the skill, and praise the beauty.Hundreds of chattering crickets gathered,

To marvel at this wonderful piece of heaven,That a small-town nobody created.

Katherine

the artist


38/40

Their eyes talked to each other,But never once did they look me.I was not worthy.

The whispers from the gutter,I could hear the sound,but not the words.I was not worthy.

The luxurious smells frommy Aunt's big pot of soupIn the ghetto drove thedarkness awaythat told us"You are not worthy.

Escape and then death and despair,

But I could help.I was worthy.

I am a person,A person of the world.I will always be worthy.

No matter what they say or do,I will not hateBecause I am worthy.

Adrienne

worth Inspired by Holocaust survivor Gizella Abramson


39/40WWII P-51 Mustangs . Graphic Art by Josh Milligan


40/40

we magazine spring 2009

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