March 18th

Everyone draws a number out of a bowl ranging from 8-16.

The number represents an age.

You then have to write about something that happened that’s memorable from that age.

Achievement in one hand and failure in the other

she let them go,

A step forward and sixteen years back her daddy sold the last of his dreams,

She wish she could give them all back but her genie gauge was on ‘E’,

Although her daughter gauge was on ‘F’,

And the words in her mouth couldn’t depict the thoughts in her head.

But she tried for him,

She told him every day what she thought the difference between his radiance and the sun was,

And that being that the sun was further away,

His dimples were like little child-made divots in the sand after a day at the beach,

But he didn’t smile as often as he use to.

One step back and sixteen years forward her daddy built the rest of his life.

He’s had one too many hair cuts but he’s still huggable,

And the number of times she’s played that game and never beat it is frustrating enough,

Yet she still keeps playing it,

Because it remains her fondest memory of him.

He isn’t special except to her,

His radiance didn’t shine anywhere except in her eyes,

But for all she knew, he could’ve been a superhero,

And all he did was make paper,

But that was just enough to bring her everything she’s ever needed.

Jake Davenport:

Up to bat

Its my second year in little league

I’m not a rookie anymore

Although my first at bat of the season I was hit in the face

I don’t worry

I let the past fall, now I’m just looking for a fast ball

I dig in the dirt, tighten my batting gloves

I clench the thick, rubber handle tightly

knuckles white

“Easy out!” states the catcher

That really happened.

I squint my eyes in sheer concentration

I’ve waited eleven years for this day

and I wait for that first pitch

and its thrown

I close my eyes and swing with all of my might

No one, especially me, could have predicted the outcome

“Ding!”

I feel the vibration up the bat and through my arms

contact

I watch the ball fly towards center field

Instead of running, I just sit and watch

I had never hit a home run before

I knew this was it

Over the fence and into the softball field

I jumped with enthusiasm and sprinted around the bases

Giving each base coach an exuberant high five

My rosy, red cheeks and wide smile cause my eyes to tighten shut

As I slowly come towards home, I see all of my teammates

Friends

All ready to bombard me when I step on home plate

This day had much more impact on me

than just a bat hitting a ball

Chenoa Jackson

Nine years old,

Third grade.

We travel by bus,

To the sandy river.

Excitement fills me,

We have watched them grow,

I have helped take care of them,

They now sit at the front of the bus,

My teacher watching them.

My feet find the dirt,

I walk with the rest of the class,

Down to the river,

Where we will do our deed.

I am handed a little bag,

I hold it tight,

Knowing my mission,

I slide into line behind my friend,

I open the bag as we inch closer.

Then it is my turn,

I dip my bag,

Into the bucket of water.

Water fills it,

I lift the bag,

Looking into the clearness,

Watching them swim.

I join the next line,

Holding my bag,

Like precious cargo,

This is important,

I have waited for this day,

All those months of feeding,

Of watching,

Of temperature control,

Today is the day,

Our handy work pays off.

I stand next to my friend,

We kneel in the sand,

Next to the river.

I hold the bag carefully.

Good luck little ones.

I dip my hands in,

Along with the bag,

I turn it on it’s side,

And release them.

I watch their little bodies take to the water,

Their new home.

I smile as they swim away,

I watch until I can’t see them anymore.

I smile knowing I have done something good,

I have helped replenish a population,

I have helped the Atlantic Salmon,

Our fish release is a success,

We’ve given these tiny beauties,

A chance at life.

Michaela Hutchinson:

Fifteen, like the Taylor Swift song, except nothing like that at all. My fifteen started as a summer, just as freshman year was ending. It was a bright and hopeful time. I was learning to drive, my best friend at my side. I was learning what it was to really have fun, a new friend guiding me through. Finally, I was discovering myself. Which was good, because the rest of fifteen wasn’t so amazing.

When August left, two of my best friends almost went with it. I didn’t understand why they were suddenly so upset with me. Why we couldn’t just talk and work it out. Conflict. I have always hated conflict.

Then Cory Monteith died. That was…a shock. He had played one of my favorite characters on Glee and I definitely felt his loss. My friends finally reconsidered whatever issues they’d had and offered me their condolences. It felt nice to have their support, but I wish that it didn’t have to happen that way.

The rest of fifteen was spent in school, my hardest year ever in school. It took a lot of hard work and dedication to make it through sophomore year.

My sole reprieve was the vacation I took with my brother and his family to California. While there, for the first time in my life, I was completely responsible for myself. I had my dad’s card and had to sign for anything I bought. I could help chose each day’s activities. That was a week full learning, discovering, and growing. Because, suddenly, I was becoming an adult.

In her song Taylor says that she didn’t know who she was supposed to be at fifteen, and I didn’t either. But I was getting there.

Sydney Caldwell

(10 years old)

I sat crying in the bathroom, my cheeks stained and nose running. This day I had hoped with all my heart for a few pieces of wood nailed together. A place to store my dreams but when I walked in it wasn’t under the tree. I told you so long ago, I wanted this from you and only you. I wanted you to paint and carve into the wood, leaving your mark wherever you wanted and I would have loved it. But you never gave me a chance to love anything, you left me with an empty heart and a mind full of disappointments. I cried for more than an empty chest, I cried for a life full of disappointments from you. My cheeks burned red. I was so envious of the other girls in the next room. They weren’t my cousins, they were my opponents and I could never best them in your eyes. You made your mind up on a Wednesday ten years ago.

I

Danielle Baxter-

Age 8

A round face speckled with freckles

Pants too short

Feet too big

HarleyRae Lovejoy-

Being of only 12 I never knew what I was getting myself into. What I learned was that my parents were right even though they didn’t do it the best of ways. It surprises me every day how I didn’t have to stay back with my grades. At the time I thought I was on top of the world and didn’t need my parents anymore.