Scribe
BROOKLYN FRIENDS MIDDLE SCHOOL 2013
Scribe Every year, the Brooklyn Friends Middle School celebrates writing and the creative arts through the publication of Scribe. We encourage students in all classes to submit their writing for publication, and works from every grade are represented. Many of our seventh and eighth graders submitted their work to the Scholastic Writing Awards competition; pieces by the students selected for recognition are included in Scribe as well. This year, we are pleased to publish poetry and song lyrics inspired by the Pi Day celebration as a way to highlight the connection between writing and mathematics. We encourage all students to continue writing and creating, and we look forward to your submissions next year. We also wish to thank the Brooklyn Friends School English faculty for their continued support of creative writing in and out of the classroom: Laurice Hwang, Ticia Vreeland, Tony Soll, Erin Mansur, Mo Yusuf, Julie Innis, and Sarah Schlein Rachel Mazor, Scribe faculty advisor Tina Piccolo, Scribe art advisor Martha Haakmat, Head of Middle School Cover: Jessica Israel, grade 8
Cosi McConnell, grade 8
Sam Feuerlicht, grade 5
Contents SPRING, Hildagard Gabel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2
SPRING POEM, Stella Belt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
THE SOUND OF SPRING, Alydia Wells . . . . . . . 3
SING MY NAME, Sabina Marino. . . . . . . . . . . 12
FALLING, Maxine Simons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
WHAT IS RIGHT, Claudius Agrippa. . . . . . . . 13
INDEFINITELY, Anna Werther . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
LIFE IS LIKE GYMNASTICS, Amanda Becker. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .14
I AM ME, Michaela Guy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 GREATER, Manya Capoluongo . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
ALL IN MY HEAD, Lily Ives. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15
GRENDEL’S PERSPECTIVE, Annika Heegaard. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .6
LAST PERIOD, Benjamin Barrett . . . . . . . . . .16
STALLING, Will Popalisky . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .7 A FRIEND, Kennedy White . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .7
THE PI-POCALYPSE, Jessica Israel and Hannah Berman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .16
INNOCENCE, Alexander Castro . . . . . . . . . . . . .8
PI DAY SONG, Cameron Winter. . . . . . . . . . . 17
TIME, Isabella Robinson-Cloete . . . . . . . . . . . 8
SWIMMING, Betsy Allen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
ROUTE 63, Sophia Lipkin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9
HATE, Lucy Henderson Smith . . . . . . . . . . . 19
SNOWFLAKE, Hannah Berman. . . . . . . . . . . . .10
AUTUMN, Tyler Roberts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
BASEBALL, Jackson Wald. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
GOODBYE, Milly Berman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Scribe 1
Spring Hildagard Gabel, grade 8 Fuzzy buds unfold from stiff branches, soaked with the cool droplets of rain that fall endlessly, so it seems, from the cotton skies. It is the time of the year, perhaps the only time, when dull grey doesn’t suffocate the living, breathing, throbbing of green. Tiny shoots, new to the world, burst from the concrete with hopes of growing tall. Not even the most foul-hearted humans, the coldest creatures, can shoot down their slight smiles, or the glints in their eyes when they look out their dark constricting rooms and see life. And though the plants will lose their vibrant green, their vivacity and youth, and people will go back to their dreary lives, forgetting the three-leafed miracles they witnessed, they are young now, carefree and naive. It is nature’s warm reminder that no amount of brick, dust, or glass, will smother the might of their strength, their perseverance, infinitely greater than their size.
Sarah Popalisky, grade 7
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Brooklyn Friends School
The Sound of Spring Alydia Wells, grade 6 The sound of spring
is a beautiful thing as birds may sing and sounds of church bells ring a spring song Kids’ sneakers ping on the ground as spring break creeps into school day bounds The sun rises and falls with glory to behold and as I watch through the window atop my house I watch the city spring about as cars run by Alydia Wells, grade 6 and people play about but when the rain begins to fall the rain drops start to call “It’s spring it’s spring the flowers are coming out having a blast in the sounds of spring always a treat when spring begins.”
Falling Maxine Simons, grade 6 down, down, Down, I go under the earth and under the snow into the darkness there is no light where I am falling it is always night there is no happiness only pain where i am falling i have nothing to gain all i can do is fall fall fall falling Scribe 3
Indefinitely Anna Werther, grade 8
W
hen I’m older, I’ll have no room to be happy in. Happiness is never pure. Misery always finds its way into the cracks of every joyous moment. It follows you, holds the despair over your head like a rain cloud. Always dripping down, as peers scoop them up and toss them right back at you. I’ll have a room where I can be upset in. The walls will be the colors of my jeans, with ripped patches that have worn through over time. The floor the same as the walls, so you can’t see where the room ends. My memories will be in that room. The memories that make me sad, that help my distress emerge in a wave of anger and tears I had been holding back for years. A room where on the walls, there are pictures of times that I regret, in an ultimate loop in my mind. But then I think to myself, I was young then. I didn’t know that my sentiment could be permanently damaged from storms of violence and enmity. And after a while, those things don’t matter to me so much. The become a small portion of my heartache, beating at a rhythm that is trying to push out all the demons of my past. My heart does not always acknowledge my mind, which knows that those things will be with me indefinitely.
Maalik Dunkley, grade 8
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Brooklyn Friends School
I Am Me Michaela Guy, grade 7 I am a Warrior I am strong I am here to prove That size and gender Don’t prove anything I am a princess I am strong of heart and mind I know I have a voice I stand up for what is important I know I am beautiful because I am strong I am me I am not you I am not her I will never be you I will never be her
Tess Noble Strohm, grade 8
I am who I am I am me
Greater Manya Capoluongo, grade 7 What makes her greater than me? Is it the fact that she's airbrushed astonishingly? What makes her better than I? Is it the fact that her face tells a lie? Is that who I want to be? No. That’s anything But me.
Scribe 5
Grendel’s Perspective Annika Heegaard, grade 6
I
t was dark out, and it was time. As I slithered out of my dark fen, I made sure to check my thoughts for evil. “Good,” I thought, filled with evil. For evil was all I knew. I kept on slithering ‘til I got to the end of my fen. I crossed the forest and picked up a snack or two. Some deer, rabbits, frogs, and more. “Yum,” I thought, “A midnight snack.” Little did I know that my huge snack would come soon. I crossed the end of the forest but was stopped by a pile of soldiers blocking it. “Easy,” I thought, “No problem at all.” I picked up seven men in my third arm, nine in my sixth arm and the rest in my second arm. I dropped them one by one into my mouth and gulped them down. Of course, a few woke up while I picked them up, but so what, another snack. As I crossed over their remains, I saw the hall. My favorite hall. The hall of Heorot.
Willa Siegmund, grade 5
I looked at the hall and smiled. This hall inspired me to do bad. All of a sudden, I picked up a piece of ground covered in ants and threw it into my mouth. Good. I slithered to the castle where men slept everywhere. The usual kind of men. The ones that thought they were strong enough to defeat me. But one man caught my eye. I took a deep look at him. I could tell that he was the leader. And I could tell he was awake. But I wasn’t intimidated because he had no sword. “No sword,” I thought, “No chance.” But before I took chances with this leader, I had to have an energy boost. I picked up around 14 men and stuffed them in my mouths. And then all of a sudden this leader stood up.
I glared at him, and smiled for his death (and my lunch). I thought about how it would be fun to have a little bit of an obstacle every once in awhile. But I was wrong. I was definitely wrong. Until then, all I knew was evil, all I heard was evil, and everything I saw was evil. So when he used his weird thing called “light,” I started to forget my evil. As he grabbed me, his fingered jabbed into me. “OWWWW!” I screamed. But I couldn’t give him strength by showing him my weakness. So I picked up my arm, which he was hanging onto, and swung it around. I screamed in horror, for no one had gotten this far through me. He started saying something about “light,” but I couldn’t hear him because of the pain I was in. Suddenly, he let go. I started to breathe, but not the regular type of breathing. I got up and screamed, for he had taken off my fourth arm. I slithered to my fen where my mother sat. I yelled at the moon, for my mother and I both knew I would perish. “They shall pay,” my mother hissed. I smiled. But a happy smile. I had never done it before, but this leader’s light had shaken me. My mother was in horror. I had been happy. She took her arm and wrapped it around my neck. I was struggling for my breath, but as child of Cain, I deserved no life. My 11 eyes started to close with death, and as they did, my evil mother smiled. But not a happy, kind, caring smile – an evil smile.
6 Brooklyn Friends School
Stalling Will Popalisky, grade 7 Stalling is not doing your work It is not stalling if you do your work Stalling is drinking a can of Dr Pepper Don’t drink the Dr Pepper Stalling is putting on a jacket when you’re cold Don’t put on a jacket Stalling is thinking deep thoughts it is not stalling if you focus Stalling is looking into space Look at your paper and just do it
A Friend
Isabel Schoeman, grade 5
Kennedy White, grade 5
Stalling is asking random questions Come on focus Stalling is drawing on your paper Stop stalling and do your homework!!
Nova Snyder, grade 5
Will we change? I am scared I dread the day that may come The day she turns her back and says you’re not welcomed The day she says she has new friends The day she says we need to take a break She doesn’t realize she’s making a mistake All the memories All the funny stories we have Just go down the toilet It hasn’t happened yet But I am scared it will I have heard about middle school And how it changes friendships I am scared it will happen someday All of our dreams thrown away Like riding the subway by ourselves And making our own decisions Maybe I should stop and calm down maybe put my frown upside down All I should be saying is that this will not happen She is my friend Our friendship will never end Scribe 7
Innocence Alexander Castro, grade 8 Innocence is there such a thing in this world where can it be found? in a flower or a little girl Those things don’t last forever Innocence the one thing that is unreachable as well as unteachable Innocence Claire Stohlman, grade 7
is there such a thing..........
Time Isabella Robinson-Cloete, grade 5 Time is short we normally don’t think about what we do with time you could do good you could do bad you could have fun you could be bored If you see there are so many things you could do with time When you try time flies by Time makes you feel different ways sometimes sometimes it’s good sometimes it’s bad sometimes it’s long sometime it’s fast No matter how it makes you feel TIME IS TIME and that is that
8 Brooklyn Friends School
Lily Edelman, grade 5
Route 63 Sophia Lipkin, grade 7 REGIONAL SILVER KEY, SCHOLASTIC WRITING AWARDS
If you were to be traveling by car down the dirt and dust road of Route 63 in Rominly, Maine (Which is a tiny little town that possibly no one has ever heard of, and if you ask any other person about Rominly, they will tell you that there is no such a place and to stop dreaming and to look out of your head, as they did to young Morgan Prince, several years after this story takes place) and you happened to look out your window at the buttercup yellow house with a black roof and white trim, Jonah Sollins-Devlin, grade 6 you would have seen a little girl, no more than five, swinging on her swing set at the side of the house, a blank glazed look in her eyes. If you happened to have the windows down at that same moment, you would have heard the creaking of the swing set, and the barking of the dog, and the clucking of the chickens from the backyard. But only if you looked very closely could you see what that girl could. And if, several days later, you were to be passing through a town near Rominly, and you were to look at a newspaper, you would have seen an article about a young local girl missing, disappeared out of her own yard. And if you were to read that article, they never once mentioned Rominly. But you probably would wonder if it was the same little girl. It was. They called her Wind. And as you probably are right now, you would wonder where she went. And what happened to the tiny little town of Rominly.
Scribe 9
Snowflake Hannah Berman, grade 8 REGIONAL SILVER KEY, SCHOLASTIC WRITING AWARDS
It is Fa l l i n g slowly. It winks at the sun, sparkling joyously, flirting. It is a star, a celebrity The cameras flash as it f l o
Jessica Israel, grade 8
a t s downwards It doesn’t know it will hit the ground and become one with everything else All it knows is that it is falling and it is enjoying the ride
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Brooklyn Friends School
Goodbye Milly Berman, grade 5 I rub the da-zi-bao* so it sticks better. I think about when I was little, and my dad would pick me up and twirl me around. I feel like I am twirling in the air, my lunchbox bumping at my side. The big red letters blur together with my tears, and block my vision. All I see is red. I feel faint. Is it too late to take it down? “How could you do this to me?” my father screams shakily through the haze. Something bumps against my hip. A lunchbox? The world spins crazily around me. I look down and wipe my eyes, so my father will not see the tears. “If I don’t leave you, they will hurt me too! I don’t care anymore. I just can’t take it,” my voice trembles. I turn nervously to face him. His usually bright green eyes look dull and lifeless. They are red from crying. They remind me of the red ink on my da-zi-bao. “Please...just listen...” “Don’t. You hurt me. Is it my fault that they target me? Is it my fault that my wife’s father committed suicide? I did nothing! You are saving yourself,” he shrieks. He plants his foot on the ground, and pivots to face away from me. “Please! Just listen! I didn’t mean...”
Christopher Klein, grade 6
“I know exactly what you meant. It says what you meant right there,” he points, “‘My father is a monster.’ Yes. I’m the monster.” He says without turning around. His back fades into the fog, and I hear his walking stick clapping against the cold stone. I turn to the da-zi-bao, crying. The world is blurred. I press my back against the stone wall and slide down. My whole body is shaking. Behind my closed eyelids, I see him. His deep purple robe flying around him. His friendly eyes, closed with laughter. His laugh. His hands, holding my hands. Why did I do this to him? I can’t undo it. I have to. I have to... I stand up, forcing my eyes to open. Tears have glued them shut. I reach out my hands blindly, fierce red ink leading me to the da-zi-bao. “My Father is a Monster.” I fumble with the edges of the paper. A loud ripping sound cuts through the air, clean and refreshing. Another rip. The weight on my chest lifts, a little. I tear it clumsily off the wall. Someone is laughing, far away. I rip it more. My vision starts to clear. Rip. The da-zi-bao is in unreadable pieces, scattered on the ground. I can see clearly, and I can breathe freely. I can tell, now, that the laughing was me. I can laugh! I start to dance, and I twirl around. Twirl like my father used to. My heart sinks. I can’t turn back the clock. But I can try to repair what happened. *A da-zi-bao is a propaganda poster from the Cultural Revolution in China (1966), used to humiliate people who had done wrong. Scribe 11
Spring Poem Stella Belt, grade 7 HONORABLE MENTION, SCHOLASTIC WRITING AWARDS
To reach up and grasp these veils of blue breeze wed to skypudding and holding rings Anthony Hohn, grade 7
with tiny hands. and how lovely it is to drown in the tastes of being.
Sing My Name Sabina Marino, grade 7 REGIONAL SILVER KEY, SCHOLASTIC WRITING AWARDS
how lovely it is, If I die, Sing My Name to Sing it Loud drown And sing it clear again. Like a flame Make them cry So I’ll hear their wails from up high Your soft singing in their ear Will surely make their eyes tear And when their tears come rolling down like the seven seas Make them drown Hasanti Kelly, grade 7
12 Brooklyn Friends School
What Is Right Claudius Agrippa, grade 8 My tears drip onto the hard wooden floor The one I most loved lives no more I am alone in this silent house with no company, not even a mouse Her heavenly scent still lingers in the air It reminds me of her eyes, and her beautiful hair But the stench of her blood also burdens the air Reminding me of her death and my despair When I came home and found her there her wrists were slashed and blood was everywhere I cried for all my wrong doings that had led to her death How she had suffered until her last breath So now I go out into the night To find a tree with height to do what is right my legs swinging left, right, left, right
Hildagard Gabel, grade 8 Scribe 13
Life Is Like Gymnastics Amanda Becker, grade 7 REGIONAL GOLD KEY, SCHOLASTIC WRITING AWARDS You can I P
L F
and STICK or F A L L You can CHOOSE to be STRONG or you can choose to not to You can live on the E Or play it Safe You can B R U Y Your Pain or just C O L L A P S E You can be JUDGED But you have CHOICES Anna Sawyer, grade 7 14 Brooklyn Friends School
D
G
E
All in My Head Lily Ives, grade 8
T
here is no such thing as too much music, and there is not a day that goes by when I do not hear a note. I have even fallen asleep to my favorite songs while my phone was on shuffle. Subconsciously, I take notice of the way the songs refer to the way I experience the rocky mountains of life the most. They sink into my head from my headphones and even deeper into my dreams. They control me, I control them. Images from the past are projected in my head and they are on replay. Every mistake, every regret, and every word left unsaid burns my mind. What seems to be infinite dark emotions flow in and sync themselves with my mood. Just as easily as they come, they go, replacing one another with a different temper. But it is not the song that makes me have these feelings. It is I who turns on these songs to make me dramatically better or dramatically worse. Why do I do that? Is it because I thrive on having an outlet to spill all my emotions out to? Well, music is in fact my most dependable outlet, and the best part is I do not even have to talk; the lyrics substitute for my weak and shaky voice. My head is in the clouds. The clouds are in my head. I am floating away, dancing alone, and simply being with the rest of the sky and my headphones. I never stop moving, and my play list is endless. But when I wake up to silence, I stop. My endless play list has finished. It was all in my head.
Nora Slovak, grade 5
Scribe 15
Pi Day Poetry In honor of Pi Day (March 14, or 3.14), students performed songs about Pi and wrote “Pi-Kus.” A “Pi-Ku” is similar to a haiku, except that the number of syllables per line is determined by the digits of Pi (3.14159...) Below are some examples of the work shared during the Pi Day celebration.
Last Period Benjamin Barrett, grade 7 Clock so slow Time Go by and fly Please Do not freeze for me Hurry up, Clock, before I break you!
π Baseball Jackson Wald, grade 7 The baseball Thrown Straight towards your head
7 rade ero, g r r a er M Hunt
SMACK! You slowly fall down People gather, women, scream, I run and run
π The Pi-Pocalypse Jessie Israel and Hannah Berman, grade 8 It’s coming the PI-POCALYPSE Pies Will fall from the sky Save your families before too late! 16 Brooklyn Friends School
Pi Day Song (lyrics) Cameron Winter, grade 5 VERSE 1: It’s the mathematical constant that’s a ratio Of circumference to diameter of a circular O You can’t use a ruler or a piece of string You'll need a supercomputer and years of training Leonard Euler got right into pi In the works that he published in 1749
Cailean Murphy, grade 6
And the polygon era in 250 B.C.(E) Was lead by none other than Archimedes CHORUS: 3.1415926538979323846264338327950288419716
π VERSE 2:
Pecan, apple, blueberries,
I even taste good when I’m stuffed with peas Key lime, lemon, rhubarb,
I’m even delicious when I’m filled with lard, I’m not even ashamed that I make you fat – Bacon and egg pie, resist that.
And ol’ pizza pie is always a hit,
But if eat too much your heart’ll stop for a bit
Rowan Ives, grade 6
(Repeat chorus)
VERSE 3: I’m an Indian boy who was on a boat, Until it sunk and I was le afloat But I didn't realize ’til a day or more, I was stuck with a tiger thousand miles from shore So I lost all my food, to a giant whale And almost didn’t live to tell the tale Yep, the boy with scraggly hair, it’s me, Don’t mean to boast, but we won an Oscar for cinematography plus Ang Lee (Repeat chorus) 3.14159 at's pi!
Charice Lawrence, grade 6
Scribe 17
Swimming Betsy Allen, grade 5
As I jump into the water I feel myself plummeting The air pushing upwards as I go down I hit the water and feel the coldness wash over me I reach the bottom and feel the tiled floor against my feet I push myself to the surface and Take a deep breath My hands act as paddles, pulling me through the water Fingers pressed tightly together I pull the water backwards As I propel myself forward My head comes up again I can hear talking and laughing I take a deep breath and Duck back under The sound of talk and laughter is Lily Ives, grade 8
muted As if pulled away from me My mind goes blank All thoughts directed on the cool water I touch the wall lightly and flip over I am aware of every muscle straining As I come towards the finish line My arms make graceful circles My feet pushing me forward I touch the wall It is over
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Brooklyn Friends School
Hate Lucy Henderson Smith, grade 7 REGIONAL SILVER KEY, SCHOLASTIC WRITING AWARDS aer Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare Let me not to the hatred of true minds Reject impediments. Hate is not hate That forgives, accepts, and binds, But bends the other and doesn’t wait. O yes, they will never help one another, but create tempests to shake. All the way to the stars they will yelp Until the end. From each other they will gladly take. Hate’s life’s fool, evil and mean, rude and horrid, without love. Hate changes each other and sets life’s scene, And never ends. Unlike love it will remove your hopes and dreams. Because it has happened Before and will again. And at one point, everyone has hated.
Niamh Henchy, grade 7 Scribe 19
Autumn Tyler Roberts, grade 8 REGIONAL SILVER KEY, SCHOLASTIC WRITING AWARDS
Autumn in New York is one of the more complicated seasons. Gone are the days of flip-flops and tank tops and steaming heat.
Here are the days of rain, leaves falling, catwalks and fur coats, November elections and popular votes.
The beginning of slow trains and the morning lag, and the return of boys who let their khakis sag.
Leaves fly off the trees like clothes on Black Friday. All the birds and squirrels prepare for their coming winter hideaway.
Autumn is like the infancy of Helen Lipsky, grade 6
the seasons, it grows up fast and doesn't care about explanations or reasons.
But just like a baby autumn leaves. It turns and grows. And Grows. And Grows.
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Brooklyn Friends School
Maalik Dunkley, grade 8
Brooklyn Friends School Mission Statement Guided by the Quaker belief that there is a Divine Light in everyone, Brooklyn Friends School cultivates an intellectually ambitious and diverse community that celebrates each individual's gifts. We challenge our students to value and embrace difference as they develop critical thinking skills and apply their knowledge and intelligence both in and out of the classroom. In this rich learning environment, we inspire all members of our community to voice their convictions, to discover and pursue their passions, and to seek truth. Our graduates are compassionate, curious, and confident global citizens who let their lives speak in the spirit of leadership and service.
Julian Strauss-Biro, grade 8
BROOKLYN FRIENDS SCHOOL 375 Pearl Street Brooklyn, New York 11201 718.852.1029 www.brooklynfriends.org