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    The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary

    Page 3
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      He is brown, always

      smiling, never down.

      Has wrinkled

      tortoise-neck skin.

      He remembers when

      my father

      went to this school.

      He frowns

      when I tell him

      they’re going to crash it

      to the ground.

      So what

      if Emerson’s

      getting old?

      Grandpa talks to me

      in a voice low

      and smooth.

      “I’ve seen you

      from my window,”

      he’ll say.

      “Climbing trees

      the way I used to do,

      sitting in the branches,

      telling yourself

      stories.” I wish

      Grandpa was

      a kid again. I think

      we would be friends.

      October 7

      WHERE THEY LIVE

      Brianna Holmes

      At Hannah’s father’s house I saw a piano.

      She called it a baby grand.

      Looked full-grown to me.

      Rennie’s house has its own library.

      Books on every wall

      and soft chairs to read in.

      I went to Sloane and Sydney’s.

      They have their own walk-in closet filled with clothes.

      Some still have price tags on them.

      Shoshanna’s got this little box on her door.

      She says it has a prayer inside. At the motel where I live,

      we can’t put stuff on our door.

      If they close our school in June,

      maybe the kids in my class will get it…

      what it’s like to be homeless.

      Until then, I want to play at each girl’s house

      so when my mom gets a job, an apartment,

      I’ll know exactly what I want:

      A place filled with music and books,

      closets stuffed with the clothes I design,

      and my own room—the answer to my prayers.

      October 8

      GREEN TOENAILS

      Katie McCain

      I like to paint my toenails green.

      It drives my mother crazy.

      My room’s a mess. Mom wants it neat.

      She says that I am lazy.

      I streaked my hair with blue Kool-Aid.

      I stand out in a crowd.

      Mom says I’m like my own parade

      because I am so loud.

      My grades are good. My friends are nice.

      I sing and dance and juggle.

      Mom would have liked a quiet kid,

      who never gets in trouble.

      I’m noisy, goofy, colorful,

      and I’m okay with that.

      Still, my mother seems to think

      her daughter is a brat.

      October 9

      MR. WHITE TANKA POEM

      Newt Mathews

      I have Asperger’s.

      My aide is Mr. Ron White.

      He says I am smart.

      He helps me write down poems.

      It is hard to describe things.

      October 10

      OBSTACLE COURSE

      Rachel Chieko Stein

      The best thing we do all year in P.E.

      is the obstacle course.

      I love climbing on the gym bars

      that curve like a rainbow.

      I can do it, no hands.

      At home, we have lots of equipment

      for my brother Alex.

      He’s in middle school,

      but he doesn’t go next door

      to Montgomery Middle.

      Alex uses a wheelchair

      and a scooter to get around,

      so every place we go

      is an obstacle course.

      We’re hoping he gets strong enough

      to walk by himself,

      just with crutches.

      Some kids with disabilities

      go to our school,

      but not Alex.

      Maybe if they close Emerson

      and Montgomery Middle,

      Alex and I will be able to go

      to the same school,

      and Alex could be in PE

      with so-called normal kids

      and be better than all of them

      at the obstacle course.

      October 13

      ESPAÑOL

      Mark Fernandez

      When your last name

      is Fernandez

      everyone thinks

      you’re automatically

      fluent in Spanish.

      My dad was always telling me

      and my older sisters

      ¡habla español!

      And we’d say, Papi, no way.

      They’ll stick us

      in some kind of ESL class.

      So I’m helping Gaby

      rewrite her poems in English.

      We both need the practice

      and I like having someone

      to speak Spanish with.

      I miss the sound

      now my dad’s not around.

      October 14

      MY SONG

      Tyler La Roche

      New kid, new kid,

      what’s your name?

      Are you cool

      or are you lame?

      Wild as a bear

      or calm and tame?

      New kid, new kid, new kid.

      Big guy, sky high,

      where you from?

      Mansion, farm,

      or city slum?

      Are you smart

      or are you dumb?

      New kid, new kid, new kid.

      Red head, white bread,

      Why are you here?

      Your lunch smells funny

      and your accent’s weird.

      How about you

      disappear?

      New kid, new kid, new kid.

      October 15

      CAMPAIGN MANAGER

      Shoshanna Berg

      Draw her posters.

      Write her speech.

      Give her my skirt to wear.

      Buy a new

      red, white, and blue

      headband for her hair.

      At recess

      I find every girl,

      go up to them and say,

      “You better vote

      for Hannah Wiles

      when it’s Election Day.”

      I know that she

      won’t do a thing

      to help our school survive.

      She sees herself

      as the queen bee,

      and I’m part of her hive.

      When Hannah wins

      class president

      I’ll finally be free.

      If she is boss

      of our whole grade

      she won’t be bossing me.

      October 16

      ELECTION DAY

      Rajesh Rao

      The teacher asks me to be

      an impartial judge on Election Day.

      She also asks me to clean the board,

      log in the class computers,

      help Newt find his pencils,

      sit by kids who get in trouble,

      be the Captain of Patrols.

      She says I’m a good influence.

      She calls me “responsible.”

      Maybe I should have run.

      Instead I’m counting votes

      for Hannah and George.

      Don’t worry.

      I’m too responsible to tell anyone

      when the kids on George’s

      Save Our School ticket

      win by a landslide.

      October 20

      MY WAY

      Hannah Wiles

      Shoshanna says

      I always

      have to get my way.

      That is so not true.

      If I always got my way

      I would have won

      the class election.

      If I always got my way

      I would’ve been picked

      for safety pat
    rols

      instead of Rachel Stein.

      If I always got my way

      my parents would still

      be married, I wouldn’t

      have a stepmother and

      two annoying half brothers.

      If I always got my way

      I wouldn’t have to go

      live with my father

      for the rest

      of the school year.

      If Shoshanna

      weren’t so mad at me

      I’d tell her,

      if I always got my way

      my mother wouldn’t be

      deploying.

      October 21

      FIELD TRIP

      Edgar Lee Jones

      Why did my mom sign up to chaperone?

      I’ll have to answer questions like “Who’s she?”

      “Your mom is white?” Well, should I be a clone

      with her light hair and skin, not brown like me?

      I’ll slide down in my seat and read a book,

      so kids won’t stare at us the whole bus ride.

      I hate when they’re pretending not to look.

      My mom is cool. Why should I have to hide?

      So what if I am black and also white?

      Who cares that I don’t look just like my mom?

      My family is different, but we’re tight.

      Get over it, because there’s nothing wrong.

      If someone gets up in my face today,

      at least that’s what I think I’m going to say.

      October 22

      NEWS AT THE NEWSEUM

      Sloane Costley

      So my mother,

      who chaperones

      EVERYTHING,

      had to come

      to the Newseum.

      And the one thing

      she wanted me

      (and Sydney, Tyler,

      Mark, and Gaby)

      to see was photos

      from some famous

      Women’s Liberty March

      in Washington, DC.

      Because my crazy

      hippie grandmother

      was there,

      doing embarrassing

      inappropriate stuff

      like lighting fire

      to her underwear.

      And I’m looking close,

      trying to spot Nana,

      when Tyler says, “Hey!”

      And he points to a face

      in a photograph.

      There is a girl

      in a paisley scarf,

      turning around to scream

      at the policeman

      handcuffing her.

      And Tyler says,

      “It looks a lot like

      that old picture

      of Ms. Hill.”

      October 23

      GETTING THE MESSAGE

      Rachel Chieko Stein

      Sloane took a picture.

      She sent the picture to Hannah

      with a text: Is this Ms. Hill?

      Hannah sent it to Shoshanna,

      who forwarded it to Jason,

      who showed it to Edgar and Raj.

      Soon our whole class was crowded

      in front of a single photograph

      at the Newseum. We’ve all seen

      the picture on Ms. Hill’s desk.

      It must have been taken the same day,

      when she marched for women’s rights

      in Washington, DC.

      Ms. Hill is always telling us

      to make our voices heard.

      We are starting to get the message.

      October 24

      SPEAKING MY MIND

      Rennie Rawlins

      Dear Ms. Hill,

      The whole class is talking

      about the picture on your desk

      where you’re standing on the steps

      of Capitol Hill.

      The whole class is saying

      you were really brave,

      speaking your mind

      to the government.

      But the whole class is saying

      we’re just fifth graders.

      Who’s going to listen to us?

      I say, yes, we are fifth graders.

      We should stand up

      for the younger kids at this school,

      like my sister Phoenix.

      I promised her I’d do whatever it takes

      so she could stay at Emerson next year

      and I’d be right next door

      at Montgomery Middle.

      Maybe it’s true,

      a bunch of fifth graders

      have no say about what happens

      to our school, but

      in fifth grade we’re supposed to be

      studying democracy

      and constitutional rights,

      right?

      Well, I already know

      the First Amendment

      is the right to free speech.

      Your student,

      Rennie

      October 27

      SOS

      George Furst

      Ms. Hill,

      we won’t tell anyone

      you got arrested.

      It was a long time ago,

      and Rennie, Norah, and I know

      it’s okay to get locked up

      for something

      you believe in,

      like civil rights.

      Ms. Hill,

      I promised to

      Save Our School

      if I got to be

      student council president,

      but I don’t know how.

      My dad hasn’t been

      around much lately,

      and my mom’s busy,

      so I can’t ask them for ideas.

      And since you

      marched in Washington,

      even though it was

      a long time ago,

      we were hoping, Rennie

      and Norah and me,

      your fifth-grade student council,

      that you could teach us

      how to tell the Board of Ed

      we want to keep Emerson.

      Ms. Hill,

      a long time ago

      you wanted the people in charge

      to hear your ideas.

      That’s what we want

      now.

      October 28

      HIJAB

      Norah Hassan

      On my birthday, there was a package

      at our front door, covered in colorful stamps!

      My cousin Amina sent it from Paris,

      where she goes to college.

      Inside was a head scarf, blue as a clear sky

      woven with golden threads.

      I wrapped the scarf around my face,

      the way my mother does

      when she puts on her hijab before work.

      My older sister, whose clothes come

      from Abercrombie & Fitch, said,

      “You’re not going to WEAR it. Like, outside?”

      My cousin’s letter said

      there are laws in France forbidding girls

      to wear a hijab at school.

      This morning, when I put the hijab on,

      I thought of you, Ms. Hill.

      Even though you can’t help us protest

      to save Emerson, I want to say

      thank you for marching for our rights

      all those years ago. Including my right

      to wear a head scarf at school.

      Did you know then that you

      would grow up to be a teacher?

      When I put the hijab on

      I float inside my scarf’s blue cloth,

      the golden threads shimmer

      like sunshine on water.

      October 29

      IS IT TRUE?

      Rennie Rawlins

      Is it true

      the Board of Ed wants to turn our school

      into a supermarket?

      That’s what my mom heard

      at Mrs. Stiffler’s community meeting

      last night.

      Shelves of cereal

      and toilet paper

      inst
    ead of shelves of books.

      Bored cashiers at the checkout

      instead of the school media specialist

      saying, “I’ve got a great book for you!”

      Trucks filled

      with tomatoes and broccoli

      instead of buses filled with children.

      I told George and Norah

      it’s time. The student council

      needs to come up with a plan.

      We can’t let a bunch of vegetables

      get in the way

      of saving our school.

      October 30

      I HATE HALLOWEEN

      Hannah Wiles

      I wish I had a long black dress,

      a bright green wig, and spider rings.

      I wish I had a witch’s broom

      and other evil things.

      I can’t wear a tall black hat.

      I’d be grounded for a week!

      Our pastor says good kids do not

      like to trick-or-treat, so

      I don’t draw pumpkins with a grin

      or help my friends put makeup on.

      The school parades, but I stay in.

      I’m done with Halloween.

      October 31

      COSTUME: A RAP POEM FOR MS. HILL

      Tyler La Roche

      Our teacher’s all dressed up

      as this Emerson dude

      who wrote about nature

      and the things that he viewed.

      He was walking in the sunshine.

      He was swimming in the sea.

      He was drinking up fresh air

      and writing poetry.

      Ralph Waldo was a poet.

      Never heard of him before,

      but his name’s right there

      on our school’s front door.

      November 5

      ONE SEAT, TWO SEATS, WE HAVE NEW SEATS

      Jason “Seuss” Chen

      One seat, two seats, we have new seats.

      Black seats, blue seats, missing-screw seats.

      Some kids are glad and some are sad.

      You sit by Teacher. Were you bad?

      The teacher moved our chairs, but why?

      I don’t know. Go ask a fly!

      Some seats are comfy, some are hard.

      I wish my seat were in the yard.

      Oh me! Oh my! I want to cry!

      I’m still by Katie. That’s no lie.

     


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