Lovely Setting "Memoir" by Carla K.

My heavy, tired feet plop out of my grandma’s old, beige Lexus. After a 6-hour flight my family and I are all ready for a warm, comfortable bed that my grandma’s house provides. I drag my tightly packed suitcase, which seems more worn than me. I lazily open the ancient wooden door and catch the sultry, sudden stench of scalding soup. The smell almost seems to wake me up but my limbs are still weary and fatigued. I see my grandpa slowly scooping the hot soup. My hunger takes over and I grab a bowl. The hard, glass table supports plates filled with tempting varieties of food: eggs with shrimp, noodles with chunks of tender meat, lightly buttered broccoli.


Check out Carla's use of alliteration, listed adjectives, effective colon use, and small details!  I love it!

Gorgeous Setting "Memoir" by Catherine R.

Out in the Open

            As I open the car door the smell of the fresh, crisp air wafts up my nose sending a chill that crawls up my spine. The sun shines in a glowing shade of auburn that makes this place so soothing. Everywhere you look there are fresh pine trees that make up this everlasting forest. You can hear the miniscule animals scuffling through the woods, tramping over the crunchy, anhydrous leaves. I walk down the steep hill that forms a path between the woods. As I reach my destination I see the large body of water that is a bright aqua because it reflects the sky. There are many appealing things in my vision: proud, tall mountains; a rickety, wooden dock; slippery, mossy rocks; a loon that glares at me with its scarlet eyes. Above me there are puffy, billowing clouds that lead a journey up to space.

Check out Caroline's eloguent adjectives!  She has a distinct writing style that is grand and descriptive.  I especially love her complicated list, which incorporates both the colon AND correct semi-colon use.  I really love that she took it upon herself to create a pithy and creative title.  Bravo, Catherine!

Exemplary Open Ended Response by Kevin P. and Brendan P.

So it looks like we still have a lot of work to do on our open ended responses overall.  Kevin P. and Brendan P., on the other hand, has it down to an art.  Check out their response and see how you can try to follow their lead:

Jean Fritz was not lucky to have grown up in China.  For one, she had to go to a British School, which she clearly disliked.  She did not like Ms. Williams, the anthem they sung, or any of the students.  And the teacher wouldn't even let Jean practice what she felt were her customs.  Also, Jean wished she was in America.  This wouldn't be a problem if she was already there.  And, worst of all, her grandmother, to whom she wrote regularly, lived in America.  I miss my cousins who live across the country in Washington!  I can only imagine would it would be like if they lived in, say, China.  It must be really hard and very unlucky for Jean to live that far away from loved ones.  

I tweaked Kevin's closing to include a more summative statement with regard to Jean; however, look at how clearly Kevin explains and uses the text.  He never uses any phrases like "I think" or "in my opinion, and he follows the structure laid out in class.  His personal connection fits with the focus of the piece.  Well done!

Jean Fritz was not luck to have grown up in China.  If Jean Fritz had not grown up in China, she would not have had to sing the British National Anthem.  If she lived in the U.S. she would not have had to defy her morals every day.  Jean also would not have had to deal with Ian Forbes.  Then she would not have been hurt and she would not have skipped school, which are both bad.  Jean also feels out of place and odd all of the time.  If she had grown up in America, she would never have felt this way.  I know how Jean feels because I was in a private school for elementary school and then switched to public for middle school, and I felt odd, out of place, and unlucky then too.  

Like Kevin, Brendan's ending was tweaked a tad; however, he does all of the same things as Kevin.  Well done! 

Descriptive Science Writing

One of the most important skills of a scientist is to be able to scrutinize the world around him or her and then to describe it in writing so that others can imagine it.  Check out these beautiful examples of descriptive science writing!  They feature elegant similes, gorgeous examples of personification, and even some metaphors.  The variety of sentence structure creates a lovely flow.  Let these exceptional writers paint images in your mind's eye!  Leave some comments and let us know what you think!  Many thanks to Mrs. Kinkle who is at once a fabulous science teacher and a tremendous writing teacher!

Bird's Nest
by Annie B.

This is a bird's nest, fragile but safe, like a house made of cardboard.  It is tiny and soft, silently resting among the web of branches high from the grass.  Like a pillow for a doll, it waits for its owner to return and sleep in its warmth.  It looks like a straw hat resting on a farmer's head, protecting him from the rays of the sun as he works.  It is made from so many things, intricate but at the same time simple, like the rings of a tree stump.  It is impossible to believe that this tiny nest once had a bird living inside.  It's so small, so tiny, so delicate. 

Sand Dollar
by Tim C.

This is a sand dollar, as coarse as a piece of sandpaper grinding down the toughest wood.  This sand dollar is as big as a silver dollar but much more valuable because it is more rare and beautiful.  As tan as the sandy shore, it hides from the world--the best camouflage ever.  The sand dollar moves around quietly and slowly on the beaches waiting for someone to find it. 


Amythyst
by Michaela C.

This is a piece of amethyst,
Unique and beautiful
Like an elegant chandelier hanging from above.
Sparkly and bright
Twinkling like a purple, shining star
Standing confidently, alone in the clear, black sky.
Shimmering.
But it is rough on the other side
Like a two-faced friend.
Glassy but firm,
As if it were preparing to break and hurt you if something went wrong.
Lavender and bumpy
Realizing that it is beautiful in its own special way.


Moon Snail Shell
by Noelle B.

This is a moon snail shell, hollow and empty like a thoughtless mind, smooth and whitish like a swirl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream that resists melting.  Coiled tight and brown, it looks like a snake, sleeping hidden in a den.  Curled up and darker toward the middle, like a whirlpool, it sucks a mighty ship to its doom.  Hard and a little rough like a seahorse, it curls around seaweed. 

Pine Cone
by Christopher Rizzi

This is a pine cone,
brown and shiny
as a chocolate cake.
Long and pointy,
it pierces like a bullet
shot from a sniper.
Sweet and sticky
as sap on a tree,
Untrimmed and sharp
like a fingernail
waiting to be cut,
Broken and skeletal
like a beaten ship.

Sea Glass
By Natalie Ostrowski

This is a piece of sea glass,
Rippled and spotted with dirt,
Like a green pond in the spring.
Deep and vibrant,
It reflects your image like a crystal mirror, drowning with unique beauty.
It looks strong, but would shatter in an instant.
It is smooth like a weathered rock, but more stunning.
It is cold and mysterious.
Many wonder what lurks beneath the surface... 

The Dead Wasp
by Carla Ko

This is a dead wasp, furry and striped like an old, worn out sweater.  Shriveled and old, it lays like a dead leaf in the corner of my living room window.  The dead wasp's legs are crinkled and black as the night sky.  The wings of the insect are transparent and light as a feather.  The wasp's eyes are closed like a shut door that should not be opened.  The old wasp rests on its fragile back; it remembers the days before its death. 

Outstanding Student Story by Isabella B

In around January, we will be working on short story writing.  This story, by Isabella, is one of the VERY best examples of student writing I have seen!  Check it out!  Don't you think she has what it takes to become a professional writer one day? 

Pahood’s Mustache

In the suburbs in faraway land called Moostachia, the lived a young fellow name Pahood. He went to school like any other boy or girl, except Pahood was different. He, unlike all the other citizens in Moostachia, didn’t have a mustache… or a beard, or a goatee, or any other kind of facial hair for that matter. He was as hairless as they come, and because of hairless ways, he was considered an outsider among his peers. He sometimes even felt as if his own family was disappointed in him because of his lack of facial hair. His older sister Parisa, who had a goatee as bushy as anything, sometimes would tell him that because he had not grown a follicle on his face by the time he was two, his mother would sometimes cry because she was the laughing stock of her book club. All the other book club ladies had big, strong sons to pass on the family name and their good, hairy genes. But all she had was a petite little boy who was as about as hairless as he was fragile. Pahood never believed that story, but sometimes he had his doubts. After all, it had always seemed as if his parents favored Parisa over Pahood any day of the week.

It was a sunny Tuesday in springtime when Pahood decided to put an end to being a hairless outcast. It all started the day before, on a breezy but warm Monday morning when Pahood was as tired as ever. He idly lumbered into homeroom with his books in one hand and a pencil in the other. He sat himself down at an empty desk and threw his books on the floor, evoking a loud banging noise that caused a couple beard-clad girls a few desks away to flinch and shoot Pahood a couple of scowls.  He merely ignored the spiteful gestures and continued to go about checking to make sure he had done all his homework and other morning tasks. That’s when Pahood’s teacher Mrs. Whimsy sauntered into the classroom cheery as ever and high on her own giddiness. Mrs. Whimsy was a petite little woman with eyes as blue as the hulk was incredible and a platinum blonde handlebar mustache that matched her equally blond mop of hair that she wore in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She bared an unnaturally white, crooked toothed smile and said in a voice that was just too cheery for 7:30 a.m. “Good morning class! Lovely day, isn’t it? In other news, I am happy to announce that we have a new student who will be joining us on our epic quest to learn!” Pahood just groaned and rolled his eyes. He always tried to make a point of showing extreme distaste for anything that glorified the concept of learning. Then Mrs. Whimsy continued to preach to a clearly uninterested choir in an overly chipper voice. “She has come all the way from Sideburn City to be here with us.” Sideburn City was the capital of Moostachia. Pahood had been there several times on class trips throughout his school career. “Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the latest addition to our class.” Pahood couldn’t help but feel as if Mrs. Whimsy was announcing a guest speaker, and that was the last though Pahood ever conjured up in his hairless little mind before his life had been completely changed forever. In strode a girl unlike any other girl Pahood had ever laid eyes on. She had long, lustrous black hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of expensive black silk. She also had the most earnest green eyes that seemed to sparkle as they hit the light. Her skin was a glowing shade of bronze that perfectly complemented her white sundress. Not to mention a smile so dazzling, it was almost as eye catching as the full, thick mustache upon her upper lip. Pahood was so overwhelmed by the beauty of the new girl that he barely caught Mrs. Whimsy announce that her name was Marishka. Pahood just stared at Marishka for a little while longer until the bell rang and he was off to his next class.

                By lunchtime Pahood had officially concluded this was love at first sight and he knew he needed to make a move before somebody else did. But when Pahood got to the lunchroom, his heart instantly sank. There was Marishka, sitting at the head of the popular girls table. It had only been three hours, and Marishka was already dining with small town Moostachia royalty! Pahood felt silly. How hadn’t he assumed that Marishka would be wildly popular? She most certainly had the looks, and after having gym with her before first period, it was pretty easy to tell she was a soccer all-star! She was destined to be an A-lister from the start, and there was nothing wrong with that, except for what Pahood referred to as “the rule”. The rule was an unspoken but quite obvious law that popular girls could only date popular guys and vice versa, of which Pahood was neither. He knew what was holding him back, though. He knew the chords that strapped him to the cold brick wall of anti-socialism, but he just didn’t know how to cut them. And the chords just so happened to be woven with Pahood’s hairlessness. He knew what he had to do: he needed to grow a mustache.

                Pahood was up late that night when he finally figured out what he had to do in order to sprout a stache. The next morning, he would have to get up extra early and head towards the outskirts of town, to the woods. He would have to hike directly east until he reached Mustache Mountain Range. He would then have to scale one of the mountains until he reached the forest on the other side. Then he would need to keep walking until he reached the Goatee Garden, in which lay the Shrine of the Silver Sideburns. The Goatee Garden and the Shrine of the Silver Sideburns were two mystical locations long discussed in fables in the town which Pahood lived. It was said that if you went to the Goatee Garden and picked three of the flowers that grew there, you must find 6the Shrine of the Silver Sideburns and place them upon the statue of the two Silver Sideburns which belonged to the spirit of Gustavo, the guardian of all facial hair. If you placed them on the statue, then Gustavo was said to materialize in front of the statue and grant you any wish you wanted, as long as it involved facial hair. This was a total shot in the dark being that he wasn’t sure if any of these places actually existed. Plus, even if Pahood was able to scale Mustache Mountain and find both the Shrine and the Garden, who is to say that Gustavo was real. And even if he was, would he really grant Pahood a wish? At this point, Pahood was willing to do anything to win the acceptance of his peers, his family, and most of all, Marishka.

                The next morning, Pahood did exactly what he had planned. He prepared himself to go to school as usual, but instead of taking his usual route, he took a left at the bus stop and headed straight towards the woods. He walked for at least an hour until he reached Mustache Mountain. It was real! Maybe if the Mountains weren’t just a tall tale, everything else would be real too. He scaled the mountains in about an hour, and was merrily on his way again. There was no turning back now! Pretty soon his school would call his house to report that Pahood was absent, and when his parents say that he went to school as usual, they would conclude that something was wrong. Maybe if he went home with a mustache, his parents would be so happy for their newly hairy son, they would forget all about him skipping school. At this point all he cared about was finding the gardens.

                Pretty soon, about only one hour after scaling the mountains, Pahood noticed the foliage had changed. The trees became sparser, the grass became taller, and the ground was laden with flowers everywhere! Then Pahood realized he had reached the Goatee Garden! He was so happy he hollered and cheered and thrusted his fists in the air! Then, almost instantaneously, Pahood got right back to work and started looking for the Shrine of the Silver Sideburns. Pretty soon he noticed something glimmering in the distance, and when he got a little bit closer, he realized they were a pair of Silver Sideburns! He sprinted towards them picking up three flowers along the way, and without a moment to spare, he threw them upon the sideburns. Then all Pahood remembers was a puff of smoke and in his hand there was a little jar of oil with a note attached to it. He stopped reading when he read the part that said “Hair will grow on areas oil touches skin.” Pahood couldn’t believe his eyes.  He had endured 14 long years of teasing and shunning because he was hairless, and now it would all be over because of little jar of oil. He wrapped it in his sweatshirt to make sure it didn’t break on the way home and carefully zipped it in his school bag.

                The whole trip home felt like he was walking on a cloud, Pahood just couldn’t believe he actually was going to have a mustache! Sure his parents chewed him out when he got home, but he just kept imagining the pleasantly surprised smiles on their faces when they would wake up to see his thick and voluminous mustache. That night after his shower Pahood could barely wait to apply the oil and sprout a beautiful stache! Well, he did go a bit overboard with the oil, pouring it all over himself and whatnot. In an instant he realized how tired he was and collapsed into a deep slumber.

                The next morning Pahood woke up and didn’t even remember about the magic mustache oil. He just yawned and rubbed his eyes like he usually did in the morning and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl of cereal and groggily just stared at it for a while until his mother walked in. His memory about the oil was instantly refreshed and he just couldn’t wait to show his mother his new facial hair.

“Morning mom.” Pahood said.

His mother just continued to look down and sleepily sip her coffee until she finally was awake enough to reply. “Good mor-AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” His mother screamed.

“Like the stache?” Pahood said cockily. Then his mother grabbed a meat cleaver and started chasing after Pahood. Pahood did not understand. Why was his mother chasing him? Than Pahood realized something; his mother was chasing him with a meat cleaver, and he was just standing there. He quickly sprang into action and ran to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. It only took Pahood a minute to realize why his mother was screaming. Staring back at him in the mirror was not Pahood; it wasn’t even Pahood with a mustache. It was a scary ape creature COMPLETELY covered in hair! It only took another minute for him to realize why his reflection was a Neanderthal. Last night when Pahood had applied the oil, he rubbed it all over his ENTIRE body. Then he remembered the directions on the oil had said everywhere the oil touches, bushels of new hair will grow. Pahood wasn’t sure what to feel now. He was feeling a mixture of anger, fear, and just downright stupidity. Then he realized he had a bigger problem on his plate. His mother had screamed, therefore waking up Pahood’s father and Parisa. Now he had three crazed people to deal with, and there was no way they were going to pause their attack just so their hairy intruder could tell them his alibi. He knew his time was limited. They could bust down the bathroom door or worse. Pahood had to act quickly, so he lifted the window in the bathroom, crawled out, and ran to the only place he knew he would be safe; the woods.

                Today, Pahood still roams the woods in Moostachia. Although today it’s not called Moostachia, it is called Tibet. The Mustache Mountain Range is now called Himalayas as well. And as far as Pahood goes, you most likely know him as Bigfoot.

Explanatory Essay

Starting sometime either end of October or beginning of November, we will begin working on writing a descriptive, vivid explanatory essay!  Check out this beautiful example from last year by Isabella B!

Rock the Night Away

                What is the right time to rock the night away? Christmas of course! Sure it is the perfect time to ride in a one-horse sleigh, but that is not why I like it so much. It is a one month season and it all starts with picking out the perfect tree, then Christmas Eve dinner, and opening presents on Christmas morning. So it goes without saying that Christmas time is definitely worth the 364 day wait!

                Getting our tree is without a doubt my favorite part of the Christmas season, and it is also the first. Every year on November 29th, my family and I pile into our burnt red Toyota Sienna and head over to Home Depot. And I know it may not seem like it, but Home Depot’s Christmas Tree Nursery is truly magical when the sun goes down. It is a lamp lit haven with tall, majestic concrete walls and a roof made out of the starry night sky, not to mention it is simply BRIMMING with beautiful, snow dusted evergreens! As I walk through the rows of Christmas trees, the aroma of pine fills my nostrils and I am instantly transported to an enchanted Christmas forest were snow blankets the ground and my breath dances before me as I exhale. Then there it is: the tree, my tree. The tall Noble Fur that I have been waiting for all year long. I motion for my family to come see, and we all exchange one thought: this is our tree. Two friendly workers come and carry the tree to our car, and my little sisters are mesmerized as they strap it to the roof. And before I know it, it is sitting in our living room trimmed with lights and all, ready for Christmas.

                “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature stirring, not even a mouse.” Well, at least not in my house! In my family, Christmas Eve is one big, floor-shaking fiesta. The whole famiglia comes over and we feast on, in uncle Renzo’s words “Some good gabagoul!” This “gabagoul” includes the seven fishes, endless Panetone’s, and my Nona’s famous Chistmas ham! We stuff ourselves silly and party like its 1999. So after dinner, we exchange presents and watch holiday specials on TV. And as much fun as it all is, in Cousin Gino’s famous words, we all “hit the sack” around 11:30. And as soon as the family is all gone, I begin my pre-Christmas rounds. I put milk and cookies next to the tree, make sure the fire is put out in the fire place (so jolly old nick does not burn himself on the way down), and plug in our tree lights. Only then an I go to bed knowing that the stockings are hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nick soon would be there.

The next morning, I am half asleep when I realize it’s Christmas! I am magically awake as I rip off my blanket and jump out of bed. My brother and sisters follow me as I race down the stairs. But in the midst of my sprint, I stop short and my eyes b ecome the size of dinner plates. Beautiful presents clad in ornate wrapping paper lounge beneath our elegant tree. Its fragrant branches loom above the presents as if handing them off to us. Without another moment to spare, we dash towards our gifts, and with tear happy hands rip them open corner by corner. My parents and I watch from the safe distance of the stairs and laugh at the sight of my sisters mauling their presents. But no gift is worth more than seeing the ear to ear grins on their faces as they unwrap their new toys and games. The rest of the day is spent playing new video games, reading new books, or in my case, trying on new clothes. And it is truly a bitter sweet moment as I go to bed thinking that the Christmas season, and all the work that goes along with it, are finally over.

So after the branches of the once beautiful Christmas tree have become brown and brittle, and after the smell of the Christmas feast no longer lingers in the air, and even after new toys are labled old and forgotten, the memories will never fade. Why? Because the Christmas season was full of friends, family, laughter, and togetherness. And you know what; a 364 day wait for the next on may not be so bad after all!

Poetry by Emily F.

Torpidity (Scaffolded from "Requiescat" by Matthew Arnold)

Sitting silently at her desk, desk
        And never an idle thought!
In the classroom she would confess,
        Was the tense fight or fought?

Her intelligence the classwork needed;
          She worked diligently.
But the boringness of the work she hadn't heeded, heeded,
          And so she worked tiredly.

Her eyes were dropping, dropping,
          With colors of red and orange.
But for her classwork she was not stopping,
           And now her determination would plunge.

Her apertures slowly falling.
            They open'd and closed once more.
During class it doth become
             A wall of slumber.

Poetry by Roxy

I remember
For Skylar

I remember
Chasing each other around the house
Like a cop chasing a criminal
Up the stairs that were as high as a mountain
Then tumbling back down
Your laughter
My giggles

I remember
Your booming voice
The unceasing beat
Pounding my ears
While I try to sleep

I remember
Watching you
Ride my little orange bike
That was way too small
Unlike your grin



Land of Cake (Scaffolded from "Land of Happy" by Shel Silverstein)

Have you been to The Land of Cake,
Where everyone eats all day,
Where they frost and make
A whole lot of cake,
And there isn't time to play?

There's no one skinny in Cake,
There's no one who can't bake.
I have been to The Land of Cake--
What a belly ache!



Four-Horned Debonare

I found a four-horned debonare;
He looks a little like a rabid bear.
He required quite intensive care,
And only lives in Delaware.
He often eats silverware.
They really are rather rare...
Too bad he's the family heir.




Golden Teacup

Mexican gold poppies
Sit baking in the sun,
But only for a while.

After the water
Slowly seeps away,
This golden teacup will leave.

But not before
It sprinkles its seeds,
Like salt from a shaker,
For the next generation
Of beauty.




Tumblers

Falling, falling,
Twisting,
Turning,

They fall.
Each different from the next.
Everyone standing out like neon.

Racecars racing,
Seeing who will be the first
To touch the cooling ground

The first one touches;
Then more come,
Quietly touching down.

They made it.

Poem by Colin

Mom

The way you drove me back and forth
in that old bright as the sun car,

Must have been so annoying
because it traveled so far.

So I wanted to take this time
To apologize for that,

But without my sports and activities,
I might have turned out fat!

Poems by Jenna M.

Mother

The radiant, golden sun beats down on us.

The crystal, blue water trickles onto my face as you watch from the wooden bench.

I listen to the pitter patter of the water on the hard concrete.

I run in circles and circles around the sprinkler.
I wear a plum-colored, polka dotted bathing suit.

A large octopus dances on the front.

You smile at me.

I smile back.

Your smile is the sun.



The Unfortunate Tale of a Fish Named Bob

Deep down in the ocean blue,
Lays a city for large fish and small fish, too.
The fish city is very diverse.

There's even a fish that can swim in reverse!

But one little fish doesn't seem to fit in.

He doesn't know how to move his fins.

This poor little fish by the name of Bob,

cannot swim to complete his fish jobs.

Bob's gills are amber and sheen,
and he's as lean as a green bean.
He tries to swim day after day,
but Bob o'Bob cannot get his way.



A Small Seed

A small seed sits in the firm dirt.

She cried for water.

She pleads for food.

The seeds looks at the flowers around her.

She asks why she cannot grow into a gorgeous flower.

The flowers reply, you will someday.

One day, the seed will turn into a precious rose.

Her leaves will reach to the sun for warmth.

She will grow.

She will learn.

And she will thrive.



The Life of the Leaves

In the summer,

They stay

As still as a stone statue.

Colors of brilliant green

Sway in the occassional breeze.

In the autumn,

They fall
As gracefully as a ballerina.
Colors of red, yellow, and orange
Dance in the air.

In the winter,
They disappear
Like a bear in hibernation.
Colors are no longer there,
But remain hidden beneath white snow.

In the spring,
They emerge

Like petals popping out of a bud.

One color consumes the world:

The color of emerald.

Slumber

The sinking sun is the sign,
that it is the time to go to bed.
So, now you will sleep in silence as
still as stone.

Sweet dreams will surround you.
A summer breeze brings bright stars.
The whispers of morning will wake you,
and once again the sun will appear.

Poem by Brett

Fly

Swarming little black fellows

Cover the air in a hurry

Buzzing away

They are like spies

In tight, jet-black suits
Doing the dirty work:

Sneaking, creeping, peeking

As they swarm away.

Welcome to The Writing Games!

Hello, all!

For those of you familiar with my reading blog (readingcafegcms.blogspot.com), you know that I already have a space for my GCMS readers.  I decided that I needed a space for my GCMS writers to share and shine as well, so this is it!  I will be posting writing by myself and by my students for all to see.  Please keep comments kind and appropriate as they will be monitored.  If you are interested in having me post a piece that was not a class assignment, simply email it to me at jsental@cwcboe.org.  I will not be posting every piece I get; I am posting pieces that demonstrate exceptional writing.

Happy writing!
Mrs. Sental