Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Summer Poem

Goodbye School, Hello Summer
As summer approaches, the hallways clear
Summer is cleaning out lockers, closing the textbooks
But as school slowly dies away, summer takes over
Lawn chairs sit on bright green yawns
Bikes are dusted off and finally rode in the summer's gently, warm breeze
Boats, Beaches, Sand, all so familiar, from a long time ago
Warm, sunny days turn into fireflies that twinkle
 as the night's stars reflect their faint glow.
So goodbye school, hello summer!

Essay


Bring Summer to Students
          The beach, the sand, and warm summer breeze is something that kids look forward to the whole school year. They work hard for the year, so why do some people think that kids don’t need that break? Sure, adults work all year, but they’re adults. Students need the time to relax and just be…well, kids! Students should always have their summer breaks from school.
          Relaxing is the thing that we all need sometimes, and summer provides that to kids. It’s a time to hang out with friends, for spending time camping with our families. Without summer there’s no smore’s, no laughs, no break. It’s more peaceful to not stress over school work, even if it’s for just a little while, it is still enjoyable.
          Also, teachers need time to prepare for a new school year. If school years are right after the other, how can teachers plan? How will they prepare for a new year with new students? They can’t. Teachers have to have time to plan the school year’s activity and learning activities so that the school year goes smoother.
       Fun is another issue. How will kids have fun and just be their selves with no summer. Sometimes, we all need a break and summer gives kids time to have pleasure at the beach, a campground, or just at home. Summer is made for having fun.
          See, summer is the perfect time for relaxing, teachers to plan the next school year, and just plain fun. Students need summer to enjoy themselves and prepare for the coming year. It should never be cancels because it’s essential to kids and needs to stay. We must continue, continue to bring summer to the students.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Predicting Piece



What are you hiding?        
 
 What are you hiding? Well not you, but the characters Soula and Elliot in the book "Waiting for normal".  In the store, both act very suspicious. When Addie and Soula talk alone, she talks about her wasted store and wasted town. So what are they hiding?  I think Soula and Elliot are trying to run people out of town.
       Soula and Elliot are hiding this because in the book it says "'Good today'  she told him. She touched the sides of her black hair like she was adjusting a hat. 'Four down and four to go' said told the guy. She winked a perfectly lined eye at him'" and "'And here I am, selling junk food outta the micro-nuker, cigarettes, gasoline by the tankful!Talk about waste! I'm part of it too.'"It sure sounds like they are hiding that there's eight people that should be run out of town, but that's my theory.   
        They seem like they're hiding that they are trying to run eight people out of town by making a crappy little town o the eight will leave. Making there's 8 people that Soula is trying to get rid of. "Four down, four to go.". But what's next in the story? How would the next part of it go? Maybe something like this….

     After saying goodbye to my new friend, Helena, I decided to head by the store to see Soula. I was just walking in when I heard Elliot and Soula talking.
    "Elliot quiet!" she said and hushed her voice. I hid behind the store shelf, close to the counter where both were standing. "Now how is the plan going?"
    "Well…"Elliot said as he played with his golden earring. "There's still four to go. Four people are gone, outta here. So what are we planning to do to make these last four leave?"
    "We'll have to sell crappier food, make the store and empty acres out back even worse. Those four have to leave!" Soula whispered. She seemed aggravated with these people, whoever they were.
    I slowly backed out when I stepped on a bag of chips that had fell.
   "How's there?" Soula called as I ran out. 'Why was she running people out of town'  I thought as I headed towards our trailer '...and more importantly, am I one of them.'
   

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Random Point of View Piece (No questions) :D

Author Note: I know this is super strange. DON'T JUDGE ME! Well, I wrote this because Mrs. Reagles made us write about the point of view of the opposite gender falling in love.The age that I got to write from is....well I'll let you figure it out :D

     Is there a chance?

   She is so pretty. But what chance do I have with her. None. That's right none. Forget it John. You're  just starting: You just got out of college a few years ago, you have a starter house and apartment, life is just blooming for you. But she is rich and beautiful. She probably didn't even notice you, I thought to myself as a passed Izzy Robin, that mayor's beautiful daughter. So was rich. Yeah filthy rich! I had, well, um, a good amount of money. But I didn't have five cars like she did. I didn't ever have a car. So what, in Boston, you can take a cab, a trolley, anything.
    Anyway, back to the point. I really liked her, but is there a chance? I don't know. All I do know is that I like her; I liked her from the first time I saw her. She was on the balcony at city hall, standing by her dad. It seemed like she was a Princess guarded by her loving father. But was I the prince that could sweep her off her feet, or the peasant that stayed with the rest of the crowd.
    My heart pounded. That happened when I thought about her. If only I could have one date with her, just one. My fists clenched as my wonderful thought was interrupted by another. Is there a chance? If only there was. I love her so much. I sweat, I worry, I freak out whenever I think abut her. But is there a chance?

Monday, May 14, 2012

Poe Piece

Author's note: Comment on what you like/dislike or what you want to be changed. Thanks :D

 A Poe of my Own
      I creep silently through the dark scarlet hall. The old clock chimed 12. Midnight fell on the castle.
I headed though the west wing, watching the halls for something, anything. My Lord had called me there, which never happened. 
      "What did me want of me?" I wondered as I creep closer. No one ever goes to the west wing. Or at last, never comes back.
      The big door to the wing stood glaring at me, ready to pull me in and never let me out. I gulped hard, as my heart pounded to the sound of the 
      "Hello?" I called, as a peered in the dark room. The scarlet curtains caught the moon's beautiful white rays and turned to red slashes on the floor. I opened my mouth slowly to call again when I heard footsteps. Slow footsteps creeping towards me. I could make out a figure in the red light. 
      Was it just my imagination or are the footsteps getting faster. I wanted to run, but I stayed still. The footsteps and my heart pounding the same beat as the
      "Lord?" I asked as a horrible pain stabbed my heart. A knife! The lord's face, covered in red light, smiled at my pain. He wanted to see me die. But why? Why now on this one night?
       "Why!" I yelled with the last of my strength and fell to the ground. The lord left the room, leaving my bleeding in the scarlet light of the night.

The Hammer and the Nail Piece

Pounding
      
       It pounds, over and over. Pounding, pounding, POUNDING! The pain shakes my to the core, but the monstrous beings won't stop till his task is complete.
       "Stop, Please! The horrible pain is killing me!" The mighty hammer did not stop, for mercy was not something he knew about. Well, it was worth a try. Oh, who am I kidding. He's a powerful bully and me, the weak flimsy nail.
       "Must pound!" shouted the hammer.He pounded me harder into the wood.I felt dizzy.Things faded away. Why! Why did master have to command his hammer to kill me. I had always been a good little nail. I always stayed straight in the box and made sure I was clean. But was this where the other nails who master picked were taken. To die? It didn't make sense.
       POUND! POUND! POUND! Three more extremely painful pounds. I couldn't take the pounding. Come on Shiny! You have to defend yourself! I thought as something caught my eye. A shiny nail, only the head peeking out of a block of wood. I screamed. I didn't want to become that! A dead body with the head perking out for master to mock them.
       I was already 3/4 in the wood. I struggled to escape. I fought to free myself. POUND! This pounding was unbearable. But I could not stop fighting. POUND! Oh, the horrible pain! I had to stay strong. POUND! Oh, this is the end! No! POUND!

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Spring Storm-
The wind wipes trees around
Heavy rain and small hail pound against the windows
Bright flashes of lighting light the sky
The deep roars the thunder roll through black clouds
Where not the faintest rays of the sun
shine through them

Essay DWA

Author's Note: Please comment what you like/dislike or what you think should be changed. Thanks :D
Just a Little Crazy
          Imagine killing someone because they are a little different. A strange voice; a broken limb. What about an eye? Crazy, right? In Tell-Tale Heart the narrator of the story is crazy and thinks he’s so cunning with his revengeful plot of murder.
          Our narrator tries to make us believe that he is clever when on how makes the kill. “I turned the latch of his door and opened it-oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly- very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man’s sleep.” This quote from the story alone just shows how cunning he thinks he is, when he's really not. The idea of killing an innocent person is never clever.
          Our narrator is also just a little bit crazy. I mean, he kills an old man because of his blind eye. The poor half-blind feeble man is killed a random night by his butler. But why our narrator did it is still a mystery. He’s just has a dilemma dealing with his anger of “evil eyes.”
          Also, his fury and madness are mostly seen at the end of the story. The beating of the old man’s heart that didn’t stop when dead didn’t seem like a heart at all. I think it was just his guilt that was taunting him. “It grew louder-louder-louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty god!-no, no! They heard!-they suspected!-they knew!-they were making a mockery of my horror!”
          So, does the narrator think he is so cunning? Yes. Is he crazy? Yes. His “so clever” murder and his crazy thought of hearing an un-dead heart proves both questions. The narrator is just a little crazy.
         

Creavtive DWA Piece


Lost in a Broken City
            I ran from the house, trying to get away. I held my glasses in one hand, my backpack from school in the other. I wanted to check and see if my parents and siblings were behind me but I didn’t have time. I just had to run.
I made my way through the rough wind and pouring rain. I fought to stay on my feet. Finally, I made it to the small empty cave in the hill by our house. I quickly stumbled inside, thinking of all the memories me and my family had shared in this one little cave. Tea parties with me little sister, soccer with my older brother, and little picnics with my parents. Yes, I am the middle child in my family. In our house, we have a system; my brother picks on me and I pick on my sister. That’s just how it works.
But anyway, I was safe. I turned toward the entrance now, hoping that my family would be near when suddenly I saw a bulky palm tree truck rapidly heading my way. I tried to back away but it was too late. BOOM! I was out like a light. I had fainted. 
***
I awoke, frightened from the hurricane that had just passed. I saw small rays of light on the cave floor where I was laying. I slowly got to my feet. Where are they? Shouldn’t they have been running here with me? I wondered, as I wiped my glasses with my shirt and put them on. I made my way for the entrance and a horrible scene flashed in my eyes. Not only my house, but the whole neighborhoods house’s were in pieces. Limp bodies peeked from under the rumble. I sprinted to my broken house and dug through the pieces. Glass cut my hands and the woods gave me splinters. My hands were red with blood. “Where are they!?!?!” I cried. Was I the only one who had made it through the hurricane?
I decided it was pointless to search through the scraps left of my house. Maybe looking for people who escaped their houses is the best option. I just needed to be by someone.  Maybe, hopefully, Christy was ok.
I ran to her house, only 3 houses down the street from mine.  Looking through the pile of her house, I saw something move by her tree house, smashed on the ground along with the ancient fallen oak tree. Slowly, I made my way toward it, not knowing what to expect. Was it her? If it was, was she hurt? I moved some broken boards out of the way, to reveal none other than Christy.
 “Oh my gosh, Christy! You’re alive!” I said as I helped Christy out of her tree house. As she came into the light, I saw that she was badly hurt. She was covered in bruises, had a swollen black eye, and her leg was twisted in a weird way.
“Hey…Tami. You’re ok too” she said in a cracked voice.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t say ‘too’. What happened? Where are your parents?” I asked, since Christy was an only child.
“I ran to my tree house, you know, because it was higher than my house, and I thought it wouldn’t get flooded, but the wind snapped the tree like a twig. I thought my parents were coming too. Oh, my house!!!” I suddenly burst into tears at the sight of her destroyed house. I think she was as scared as me. Both our families were buried in the rumble, either hurt or dead.
I helped her to the cave and we told each other our stories. She had heard the loud wind and ran for the tree house, hoping her parents were behind her. I heard the wind too and grabbed my glasses and my backpack for school, with all my favorite books and pencils in there, I just couldn’t say goodbye to it. I had shouted to my family to follow but I don’t think they heard me.
We both stayed in the cave for a while. I used the ice pack in my lunch box to care for Christy’s broken leg.
“Thanks Tami. How long have we been here?” Christy asked
“About a day. It’s….” I said as I glanced at my watch “9:37 in the morning right now.” It was Sunday. The hurricane still felt like it had only happened I second ago. The bump on my forehead from the palm tree hurt a lot still. But Christy was way more injured than I was.
We both felt hungry. We used the coconuts from the broken palm tree for coconut milk. It was thick and creamy, filling both of us up fast. Later in the day, I saw a fire truck, an ambulance, and police cars, with rescue dogs barking from the back sit. They had come to check if anyone in the neighbor was alive from under the rumble. And if they alive, they would help them if they were injured. I woke Christy up from a nap she was taking.
“Wake up, Christy! Wake up! There are people who can help you out there!” she woke, and slowly got up. Even more slowly, we walked down the hill, with me as Christy’s human crutch.
“Hey! My friend’s leg is badly hurt. I think it’s broken. Please help her!” I shouted as we neared the bottom of the hill. The people in the ambulance took one look at Christy’s leg and decided to take her to the hospital. I told them that I have to come with.
“Don’t you have some family or someone to watch you, kid?”
“First of all, I’m 10 and second, both our families are missing” I said softly as tears streamed down both our cheeks. I knew that she was thinking the same thing, if we were ever going to see them again.
***
            A week later, we were taken back to our neighborhood by the HRT (Hurricane Rescue Team). We had spent a few days in the hospital, where Christy got a bright purple cast for her leg (Her favorite color by the way. As we traveled through the city to get there, we saw how destroyed everything was. The whole city was destroyed. Search and rescue teams searched for missing people while survivors sat on the curb, crossing their fingers that their loved ones where somewhere in the rumble, and hopefully alive.
            Christy walked on crutches down to the sight of our house. The HRT searched through the rumble of Christy’s House. Her parents were found in what would have been the living room. Both dead. Christy cried as the team pulled them from the remains of the house. They were going to be buried tomorrow, right next to each other. My house was next. I cried both because of the search and Christy’s parents. Were they alive?
            The Rescue Team slowly began parting the material from my house when their search dog barked and started sniffing the ground.
            “He’s got a scent!” A man from the HRT yelled. The dog traveled through the rumble, while the man parted the rumble in the dog’s way. I followed he, searching for someone, anyone. The dog stopped and barked, then dug through a pile of wood from the house. Suddenly, the rumble revealed a figure, still breathing and alive.
            I stared at the body. The man parted the rumble more till it revealed the face of the person. I gasped, “Mom!”