But Then I Grew Up

Writing from Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School

E DITED

BY

S H A NTÉ C O Z IE R & C AR L A J E A NP IE RRE

NY Writers Coalition Press

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Writing from Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School

NY Writers Coalition Press Spring 2016

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Copyright © 2016 NY Writers Coalition, Inc. ISBN: 978-0-9964012-6-5 Library of Congress Control Number: 2016940162 All Rights Reserved Upon publication, copyright to individual works returns to the authors.

Editor: Shanté Cozier & Carla Jeanpierre Layout: Daisy Flores Title: Gabrielle Polonio Cover Image: Amelia DeVerteuil & Daisy Flores Interior Images: The “Writing Club Students” But Then I Grew Up is a collection of writing and art by members of the NY Writers Coalition creative writing workshop for students at Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School.

Brooklyn East Collegiate’s Middle School Writing Group is made possible by the Art A Catalyst For Change Initiative, supported, in part, by public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council. Art A Catalyst For Change was created by Council Member Laurie Cumbo to include art as part of a comprehensive city-wide anti-gun violence effort.

NY Writers Coalition Press 80 Hanson Place, Suite 604 Brooklyn, NY 11217 (718) 398-2883 info@nywriterscoalition.org www.nywriterscoalition.org

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Contributors

Savannah Banks Atiqa Chowdhury Amelia DeVerteuil Nevaeh Ebanks Rasheed Johnson Maxwell Ming Daniel Mitchell Gabrielle Polonio Chance Wade

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Contents

Foreword by ShantĂŠ Cozier & Carla Jeanpierre Original Student Writing Sections :

I Am Scars Villains

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Acknowledgements About NY Writers Coalition

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Foreword They were 10, 11 and 12. During the workshop, they displayed an energy that could not be matched by any adults.

They constantly wanted to use the bathroom, take a break at the water fountain, and forage for snacks. Though they were restless from an already tiring school day, when we sat down to write, a kind of magic happened.

This was their "writing club."

In this space, Room 205, in a big building on Underhill Avenue, these students were in control. Along with being incredible writers with sensitive souls, they proved to be critical listeners as well. One of the many joys we experienced during the writing workshop was seeing how these young minds applied quotations, facts about historical figures and even literary terms to their writing. Hearing, "That was alliteration!” and “I liked how you used onomatopoeias," reminded us that they are equally smart and creative beings, capable of warming the most mature hearts.

Parents know that it’s a miraculous privilege to watch children grow. Children see and hear things that adults are oftentimes too busy to notice. ‘Children are sponges’, adults say, soaking up everything surrounding them. Their environment determines how much they grow, how fast they grow, how well they grow, and inevitably who they become.

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The writing in this book tells who they are. That even at their young ages, they carry scars and are impacted by villains in our society everyday. They understand the fragility of their innocence, and so they work hard to protect their own happiness, all while learning about police brutality and mass murders that happen in schools, movie theatres, and other public places.

The work that came out of these small bodies was not small at all. These students were deep thinkers and imaginative souls, excited to have the opportunity to conjure up ideas, to use language and drawings to express themselves, and to have a space designed just for them to create. Each of them introduced us to a slew of contemporary ideas— forcing us to remember that there will be no change without the input of what the youth wants.

We had our hands full each week. But if given the chance to do it again, we'd have it no other way.

ShantĂŠ Cozier & Carla Jeanpierre NYWC Workshop Leaders Spring 2016

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By Atiqa Chowdhury Age 12

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Happiness Maxwell Ming Age 12

What is happiness to you?

Is it being cheerful all the time?

Is it you being alone stuck to a screen?

Why are you here?

Who are you?

You are here to be happy.

There is no such thing as happy, just emotions.

Don’t be afraid to express yourself.

Don’t use the word happy.

Use the word freedom.

It has been a long time.

Now I know what happiness is.

It isn’t being cheerful, It is being able to be free and express yourself

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In Between Atiqa Chowdhury Age 12

I want to go to Wonderland. It sounds very interesting.

The place where Caterpillar lives. It sings to me eerie melodies of 80s music. I visited it only once before.

I’ve never forgotten about my first visit. But I get stuck between the worlds. Between Hogwarts and Narnia, I saw the third star. In Wonderland, I think about Aslan and Lucy. But, Peter never comes to mind. I wish to believe in Hermione’s facts, but mother told me not to. I can’t see Captain Hook, obviously because he’s been banished to the Island of the Lost. I stood in front of the looking-glass already, but I couldn’t see the Queen of Hearts. I only saw a girl, with the same brown eyes and black hair, staring back at me.

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Past Life Gabrielle Polonio Age 10

In a past life, I was a princess. I lived in a castle. My prince awaits. Everyone adored me. I was a world idol. My plump pink dress. So puffy. Everyone bowed down to me. But then I grew up.

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Yo u A r e Yo u Rasheed Johnson Age 11

You are you. Possible is not your challenge.

Bounce, Bounce, Bounce.

Hi, my name is Rasheed and I want to tell you to do what you want and feel is right.

You must be thinking why I started off like that. It is because I am going to go sky diving off of the earth. Then, I will bounce back up as high as the clouds. I will jump and trampoline.

So, you can do anything, just like me. Have you ever heard the saying, “Do anything that makes you feel comfortable”? I’m just kidding, I just made that up!

So what I’m trying to say is, “Anything is possible.

Try hard.”

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Haikus Amelia DeVerteuil Age 10

I am beautiful and you see me everyday, you don’t notice me.

But I noticed you.

I noticed everybody.

I’m up high and low.

I have sharp bristles in the winter covered snow.

I am beautiful.

I am the nature.

I’m part of this awesome earth.

I give oxygen.

I see the blue cars when my beautiful leaves fall.

Drop, drop my leaves go.

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By Gabrielle Polonio Age 10

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My Happiness Is...

Amelia DeVerteuil Age 10

My happiness I shall not share with anyone but myself.

My happiness can change and so can I. Like some black bird into a majestic white swan.

My happiness is helping people and feeling that joy, getting something I want, more things I need.

Everyone has their own happiness, but not my happiness.

My happiness can’t contain more than I can contain it— getting good grades, showing people who’s wrong.

My happiness is mine, and it always will be.

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Dad Daniel Mitchell Age 11

The man that gave me life.

The man that answered my cries.

The man that helped me balance on my bike.

The man who tied my shoes.

The man that smiles when he sees me.

The man that helps me sleep.

The man that is quiet at times but loud at others.

The man who’s crazy.

He may be crazy, but he’s my crazy dad.

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By Amelia DeVerteuil Age 10

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Power Gabrielle Polonio Age 10

I have power over me. I have power over my work, my art. I have power over my style. I have power over my clothes. I have power over my limbs and my heart’s desire. I have power over my handwriting. I have power over my mouth, nose, eyes and my eyebrows. I have power over my power and I have power over my diet. I have power over my posture and I have power over my mind. I have power over my decisions and I have power over my scratches and bumps. I have power over my mistakes and I have power over my emotions and I have power over my tone. I have power over my likes and dislikes. I have power over my beauty and over my fashion. I have power over my actions and my life.

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Who Am I? Amelia DeVerteuil Age 10

Who am I, you would ask?

Oh, hi. I’m the girl who most people think is crazy but not in a good way. I’m weird, smart, talented, funny, well most people think.

I will not let anyone tell me who I am either.

Oh, Amelia you’re crazy, crazy, crazy crazy, crazy, crazy Something wrong!

Crazy. Something bad Crazy. Oh, I’ll change myself. Let you tell me who I am. Wrong.

I am who I say I am, not what you say I am. Oh, you would ask, “Who are you?”

I’m Amelia and I’m weird.

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By Amelia DeVerteuil Age 10

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Wa i t i n g Atiqa Chowdhury Age 12

I close my eyes and smell the breeze.

It blankets my face and calms my senses.

The skyscrapers tear into the sky, I want to stand on top of them.

I want to feel the air.

I want to see the people.

The branches reach for my hand but I’m sad that I cannot go.

Everything has a place in the world.

And then there’s me.

I’m sitting here, envying the feathered birds and the statues on the church.

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I guess I’ll wait.

I’ll wait for the wind to make me fly like it does for the seeds.

I’ll wait for the trees to try a little harder, to wait a little longer.

I’ll wait for time to stop ticking for them to see me waving.

For eternity, I’ll wait.

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By Gabrielle Polonio Age 10

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Mysterious Atiqa Chowdhury Age 12

In a former life, she had innocence in her eyes.

Her mousy mysteriousness made everyone smile.

She had a 1,000 voltage smile that came only once or twice. She was magnificently diligent when performing mathematical equations. She was different, yet so similar, but only because she had been protected. Wow! Her eyes are sorrowful, masked with happiness. Her egg-shelled life had been stomped on by foreigners. Her smile needs new batteries, though it comes out every day.

She’s lethargic no matter how good her writing is, or how high her grades are. She’s no longer similar, only different, just because she stopped to smell the fresh air on her way home. Now, her headphones are always plugged in.

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This is about a time when I felt like a crack in the sidewalk Amelia DeVerteuil Age 10

People didn’t care. They just ignored him. He was laying on the floor with blood gushing from his thigh. The man ran off. He struggled to tell me. He also told me he’d miss the way I smiled, the way I sucked my teeth. I was mad and I told him every little thing is going to be alright.

Until about two hours later, he was gone. I sat on the sidewalk and saw blood creased in a crack on the floor. I wondered how that crack felt. Just like us. Sad that no one filled him up with cement, fixed his heart, made him live well, made us live together.

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OMG Rasheed Johnson Age 11

OMG it hurts so much, oh I did not see you there. Well since I am talking to you, I might as well introduce myself. My name is Scar and guess where I am? I’m in the hospital because some idiot named Jeff was driving and pulled out his gun and shot me in the shoulder when I was walking home, but I think he meant it for the other person that was next to me. So then I was bleeding. The people were screaming. Then, I said help. They called 911 and arrested Jeff, and I was rushed to the ER. Then they took the bullet out of me and sewed me up. Ten years later, they took it off. And now it hurts very much.

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My Happiness Nevaeh Ebanks Age 10

My happiness is not in four huge stars, not that far apart but happiness is not a mistake.

Happiness is eating steak, I listen to birds chirp in peace, I turn into pieces.

Happiness is not Lying, Crying, Lurking, Working, Nor fearing.

You can’t hear it, but you can feel it.

Happiness is Cleaning, Healing, and much more.

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My Life Chance Wade Age 11

My life is like a glass on the table.

When I fall down, My life and body shatters.

All it takes is one bang and my body starts to go down like a drain that water has gone down.

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My Happiness Rasheed Johnson Age 11

My happiness is not that far away.

It is one inch, two yards, six bus rides away, four doors away and one stairwell down.

It would take no hours and it is awakening and it is contained in a cage that needs a key.

And you can see it two inches crying in a corner because it is not free.

Then you see a key between the lungs that help the heart it empowers.

If then you put the key in the key hole, it opens.

Now my happiness has awakened and that is where you find my happiness.

It is beneath you.

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I Have a Scar Gabrielle Polonio Age 10

I have a scar My dad left me I’m not loved I don’t fit in I’m black I’m poor I have no one I have been trashed I feel like a doll Under the power of my enemies I have no life I have no friends I have no talent I have no mind I have no peace, joy, love, self-esteem I am dead I am locked up People see me People hate me I have no word No heart Not a thing I have a scar

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See My Scar Chance Wade Age 11

Hey, notice me!

Hello! Notice me, or else I am going to hurt you.

Hello. Come on.

Wait, no, I’m sorry.

Don’t put this Band-Aid on me. NOOOOOO!!!!!

Human: I feel a lot better.

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Lost Atiqa Chowdhury Age 12

What does it mean to be “Lost?�

I want to be lost forever.

Into the ripples of time and the waves of the universe.

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By Daniel Mitchell Age 11

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Glass Daniel Mitchell Age 11

The edge is cold and steep. I’m sure I’ll break soon enough. “Wait, what’s that?” says a deep sounding voice. Another WHOSH! with a trail of smoke. Then I see it, but it’s too late. I’m everywhere at once. I poke through a shoe. A deep gravelly voice says, “Ow! Bam!” Now I’m covered in red liquid, which tastes weird.

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What is Death?

Atiqa Chowdhury Age 12

Everyone says that death is a part of life. They say it feels as if you have just finished eating a ripe mango. And in some ways, death is a relief. From everything life has thrown at you. From all the struggles. They say death is like throwing away an old marble notebook with pages filled with words. It’s like sinking your feet in hot, burning sand. You feel relaxed, but it doesn’t stop it from burning.

I don’t think so. I think death is God’s punishment for the bad, and gift for the good.

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By Chance Wade Age 11

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ONE Savannah Banks Age 10

One person killed this person.

One person was on drugs.

One person was crazy.

One person liked to drink.

One person went to jail.

One person you should know.

It was only one person.

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Tr o p i c a l D e a t h R a p Maxwell Ming Age 12

I was on the tropical beach eating peach and mangoes.

Dancing like my bro, Fandango.

He was dancing the move called a tango.

They danced and played.

While I just stayed.

I got tired then my brain rewired 30 days.

Later got a call, not realizing the next day was my death.

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Suffocation Atiqa Chowdhury Age 12

I feel constricted by my white apartment walls.

Everywhere I turn is just a constant reminder of the mistakes of my past. Maybe that’s why I always go out to the library, to the playground.

It depresses me – its scent, its sounds. I wanted silence, but then, there’d be nothing to mask my thoughts. Thoughts. I’ve locked away thoughts that got lost in the storm. I long to feel the harsh winds, the warm sun, the refreshing rains. I want something to remind me that there’s something beyond these bare walls.

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Dad or Non-Dad Savannah Banks Age 10

The dad I wanted to come.

The dad that was on drugs.

The dad that never showed love.

The dad that drank.

The dad that felt like he was right.

The dad that left me when I was four.

The dad that yelled at me.

The dad that divorced my mom.

The dad that lied.

The dad that never loved his daughter.

The dad that never wanted me.

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My Happiness is Still Smiling Atiqa Chowdhury Age 12

I stare out my barred window, watching the rain pitter patter on the hard concrete grounds. I’m waiting to be released for what seems like eternity but was only ½ an hour. With my head on the palm of my hand, I daydream about the bright, delightful sun’s warmth pressing against my pale face. But instead, I get the lonely moon’s rays blanketing the room. I wonder if dreams really come true.

If they do, where are the yellow sun’s rays? Where are the chirping birds? They say look harder, but all I see is the depth of darkness in these desolate thoughts. Of all the years I’ve been sitting here, I learned only one thing: Happiness was never real, but people are still smiling.

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One Day Rasheed Johnson Age 11

One day when my older cousin came over, it was night time, by the way. But let me tell you a little about her. She was immature and liked to play too much. Then some of her friends came and took her to this party downtown. She asked me if I wanted to come because I was just 9 and it was for kids, but I said no ‘cause I already had plans to go out with some friends and she said okay and left. Then the minute as I was able to leave I got a phone call that she was in the hospital, so I rushed over there with my friend. The doc gave it to me straight. She was going to be fine. But she had fractured a bone from a bullet. Then I started crying. I could have done something. I could have prevented that from happening. I felt disgusted and wronged. I had negative thoughts. Then something talked to me and said it was alright. Can you imagine if that was you who got shot? Just be lucky it was not you. I told the thing, ‘Thank you for your advice’.

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Protecting Savannah Banks Age 10

One day I’m trying to protect my family from a mistake I made, only 26, protecting them from a gang shooting in my home. I ran to get my daughter. I got her and then Boom! Gun fire goes off and I’m shot in my head and I say to myself never before had I felt so defeated but maybe, just maybe, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. But there wasn’t.

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Hakim Gabrielle Polonio Age 10

He walked home. It was 8:30pm. His mom was going to be furious. “Hakim!” She shouted. He didn’t pick up the pace. He heard chatter behind him. That chatter turned into a quarrel. Two men were arguing. Hakim started to walk faster. But then he heard one gunshot. The man shot the other in the leg. The shot man punched him.

That made him angry. He started to shoot freely. Hakim ran. Too bad a bullet is faster than a person. Hakim was shot in the shoulder. “Hakim,” said his mom. “Hakim! Oh my god! My baby!” she cried. She ran down the stairs.

“Help!” she screamed. Many neighbors came outside.

Hakim was rushed to the hospital. Doctors said, “It’s no hope,” “It’s not possible,” “I’m sorry.” One doctor though, one surgery though, one prayer though, was enough to save him.

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M r. P r e s i d e n t Maxwell Ming Age 12

Mr. President, Mr. President, someone wants to kill you.

The people of the world will be blue.

They have guns and bombs, too.

Mr. President, Mr. President, they are drinking rum, they see you there chewing gum, they will shoot you so hard, they say you will look dumb.

Mr. President, Mr. President, their favorite superhero is Deadpool, they say you will be laying in a red pool, they want to hit the arena and duel, Mr. President, Mr. President, I fell down the stairs, I’m eating pears.

Mr. President, Mr. President, please beware they are going to kill you.

The people of the world will be blue and they have guns and bombs, too.

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By Rasheed Johnson Age 11

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E x c e r p t f r o m “ D e a d p o o l ’s Adventures” (Choose your adventure short story) Maxwell Ming (AKA King A1 Sauce) Age 12

Sinister: I’m going to kill you.

Deadpool: Now wait Sinister, let me show you my history.

Narrator: Wade Wilson, blond hair, he was from Canada, blue eyes, loved red and black. He wanted to be an assassin. When he was 7 he had heart problems, but he was still cheerful. He had a girlfriend but he dumped her at 18 because of his lung cancer. He was afraid of dying so he left her. Then a Chinese guy came up to him and offered to give him super powers.

Wade said that he should go find some kids. 30 days later Wade found the Chinese guy and accepted his offer. Then he was taken into the Weapon X program and tested on with a whole bunch of experiments. He even had Wolverine's healing factor put into him. All of the scientists betted on who would survive. However, the scientist who was helping Wade didn’t like him so he decided to mess up his face. There was a massive chemical failure so his face and all his hair was bleached away.

So Wade Wilson changed his name to Deadpool because he was dipped in Wolverine's dead cells and a pool of bleach.

Deadpool: So Sinister, how you like my story?

Sinister: Hhmmm, it was ok, but let me add something to your story?

Narrator: Sinister is going to kill Deadpool.

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Players, make your choice: Kill Sinister │

Talk Some More │

Deadpool: Oh yeah, well I’m going to stab you in your chinga-ling-ling. Then slice your head off then post it on Instagram.

Then, I guess, this is the final battle against you Sinister.

Deadpool: Wait, I have another story. Ok, so once upon a time...oooo, a butterfly!

Sinister: Come back here!

Damnit, little goolad, get back here! Hey Deadpool, I’m going to kill you.

Deadpool: Wait, Sinister, don’t be such a goolad. Then I guess this is the final battle against you Sinister.

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Come on Player, your choice: Fight │

Flee │

Deadpool: Before we fight, let me prepare, ok. My bald head looks nice and shiny. Alright I’m ready to fight. Ok, so I have a shotgun and two mini pistols.

How about you?

Sinister: I have magic powers.

Deadpool: Ow, ow, ow you’re choking me.

Sinister: Yes, I win. Deadpool, give up or else.

Deadpool: What?

Narrator: Bang.

Deadpool: Yes, I have 50 points, Ha ha huh ha Headshot.

Game over.

Ha ha, I win. Roll the— Sinister: Shut up, Deadpool.

I’m not human, bullets don’t work on me. All you did was piss me off.

Narrator: Boom.

Deadpool: Ahhh, you know what, I’m out Sinister. I’m going to get a chimichanga, then stop Skynet. ‘Ight, time for some chimichangas.

Deadpool: Mmhhh, these are delicious. Why am I high on this shoof? Wait, there’s a crane, wait, it’s moving. Weeeee, yes, I got on. Alright, wow, a nice view. Oh, I see Rick Ross, a nice pot, delicious food and Skynet members. WAIT, SKYNET MEMBERS?! Ok, let me stay stealthy and eliminate the weak guys then take down the big guy.

Wait, I see a gas tank. I need to somehow lure them to the gas tanks, then shoot the gas tank so they go up in flames.

Hmmm, let me think. I’ll throw a rock over there so they follow the noise then I’ll shoot the tank. Ok, aim.

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Deadpool: Ow Sinister, you threw me into a crane. Wow, I see Skynet members. Uh-oh, they see me, crap! Sinister sees me too.

Skynet Member: Kill Deadpool.

Deadpool: Kill e? Why me? I did nothing to you but if you’re going to kill me let me say my final words. ‘Dear Sinister, my best friend, sinister the evil bastard who tried to kill me, I know we have had diff— Narrator: Bang!

Deadpool: Ok, Sinister, you shot me in the head like a hole in the earth.

Sinister: Now I’m pissed.

Deadpool: Here, have a sword.

Narrator: Slice.

Sinister: Damnit, Deadpool.

Deadpool: Yes, now I did it. He is dead. Roll the credits!

Narrator: Click.

Skynet Member: Hey, what’s that noise? Let’s check it.

Deadpool: Ok, time to make my entrance locked and loaded.

Narrator: Bang!

Deadpool: Woah, I like pretty explosions. They cause a hole in the earth. Ok, Skynet noticed me.

Sinister: Attention all Skynet members, we have seen sightings of Deadpool on the roof. Please locate him and bring him to me NOW. Skynet Member: General Sinister, we have Deadpool here.

Deadpool: Nope, not anymore. I’m out of this! Roll the credits!

The End.

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Over Daniel Mitchell Age 11

I’m stuck in time in the middle of space just before I made my biggest mistake. I took a job with drug dealers and then joined the police. I killed their leader. Now his daughter’s after me. She took her own life. Now I’m in Witness Protection. In Tokyo, it’s the same story. Read from the beginning to hear it again. Oh, this was all with my two best friends.

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PoP! Chance Wade Age 11

First, let me tell you how I got into this mess.

All of the cool kids, you know, Ricky, Nealz, and Jeff was doing something. I didn’t know so I went along with them. We were walking to this store. They told me to put a mask on.

I didn’t know what was going on and plus they gave me a gun. When we went in, Ricky said “everyone get on the floor and keep your hands up!” They did so. I took money out of the cashier desk and then we took off.

The next day I got up, on the news there was a picture of us. They were saying to beware of us, and if you know or see these criminals call NYC Police. “Huh! I am a criminal?” Then I stopped hanging with them after that.

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By Maxwell Ming Age 12

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Time to Stop Nevaeh Ebanks Age 10

There are many things we need to stop in this world, but the most important one is the one that’s killing the community, literally. Gun violence. The real enemy. My perspective is to make a law to stop guns from being bought. I think we should let the community grow and become diverse instead of letting guns kill or hurt innocent people. My name is J.B. III, and I got my leg taken off by a horrible person with a gun.

The person isn’t in jail and is still roaming around the streets.

What do you choose, gun or no gun?

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Acknowledgements As a small, grassroots organization, NY Writers Coalition relies on the generous support of groups and individuals dedicated to getting the voices of those who have been silenced heard. Many thanks go to our foundation, government, and corporate supporters, without whom this writing community and publication would not exist: Allianz GI, Amazon.com, the Bay and Paul Foundations, Brooklyn Community Foundation, the Kalliopeia Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, the Pinkerton Foundation, the Tiger Baron Foundation, and the Two West Foundation.

NYWC programming is made possible by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew Cuomo and the New York State Legislature.

Brooklyn East Collegiate’s Middle School Writing Group is made possible by the Art A Catalyst For Change Initiative, supported, in part, by public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council. Art A Catalyst For Change was created by Council Member Laurie Cumbo to include art as part of a comprehensive city-wide anti-gun violence effort.

We rely heavily on the backing and guidance of individual NYWC members and attendees of our annual Write-A-Thon. In addition, members of our Board of Directors have kept this vital, rewarding work going year after year: Timothy Ballenger, Jonas Blank, Tamiko Beyer,

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Louise Crawford, Jenni Dickson, Marian Fontana, Lisa Smith, and NYWC Founder and Executive Director Aaron Zimmerman.

Finally, special thanks to the dedicated and kind staff at Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School. Thank you especially to Ms. Gina Diaz for all your hard work in making this project possible and thank you to Ms. Jeni McDermott for making your homeroom class available every afternoon for our writing group. We appreciate all your support!

Finally, special thanks to the dedicated members of the Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School Writing Group and Daisy Flores for help and design.

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The Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School Writing Group

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Top to Bottom, L-R: Nevaeh Ebanks, Savannah Banks, Rasheed Johnson, Daniel Mitchell, Amelia DeVerteuil Maxwell Ming, Gabrielle Polonio, Atiqa Chowdhury & Chance Wade

Top Photo (L-r): Rasheed Johnson & Amelia DeVerteuil Bottom Photo (Top to Bottom, L-R): Rasheed Johnson, Daniel Mitchell, Amelia DeVerteuil & Gabrielle Polonio 69

top photo (L-R): ShantĂŠ Cozier, Chance Wade Nevaeh Ebanks, Atiqa Chowdhury, Savannah Banks, Daniel Mitchell, Gabrielle Polonio, Maxwell Ming & Carla Jeanpierre

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About NY Writers Coalition NY Writers Coalition (NYWC) is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization that creates opportunities for formerly voiceless members of society to be heard through the art of writing.

One of the largest community-based writing organizations in the country, we provide free, unique, and powerful creative writing workshops throughout New York City for people from groups that have been historically deprived of voice in our society, including at -risk, disconnected, and LGBT youth, homeless and formerly homeless people, those who are incarcerated and formerly incarcerated individuals, war veterans, people living with disabilities, cancer, and other major illnesses, immigrants, seniors, and many others.

For more information about NYWC programs and NY Writers Coalition Press publications visit nywriterscoalition.org

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Writing from Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School

F EATURING Savannah Banks, Atiqa Chowdhury, Amelia DeVerteuil, Nevaeh Ebanks, Rasheed Johnson, Maxwell Ming, Daniel Mitchell, Gabrielle Polonio & Chance Wade

NY Writers Coalition Press is proud to present But Then I Grew Up, a collection of writing from the NYWC creative writing workshop for youth at Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School.

The Brooklyn East Collegiate Middle School Writing Group is made possible by the Art A Catalyst For Change Initiative, a comprehensive city-wide anti-gun violence effort.

For more information about NYWC creative writing programs and NYWC Press publications, visit WWW.NYWRITERSCOALITION.ORG

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