The Wake - Issue 12 - Fall 2021 - Bizzaro

Art by Ankia Wilsnack

THE WAKEelementaryschooledition

©2022 The Wake Student Magazine. All Rights Reserved.

Established in 2002, The Wake is a fortnightly independent magazine and registered student organization produced by and for students at the University of Minnesota. The Wake was founded by Chrin Ruen and James DeLong.

Disclaimer: The purpose of The Wake is to provide a forum in which students can voice their opinions. Opinions expressed in the magazine are not representative of the publication or university as a whole. To join the conversation email eic@ wakemag.org.

Editorial Production

Editor-in-Chief

Managing Editor

Cities Editor

Voices Editor

Online Editor

Copy Editors

Music Reviews Editor

Multimedia Producer Multimedia Editors

Marley Richmond

Jemma Keleher

Ian Knoll

Mitchell Levesque

Erica Bouska Autumn Sanders

Peter Nomeland

Tosin Faseemo

Noah Berghammer

Natalie Aue

Cecilia Harold

Cities Interns: Vishalli Alagappan, Marie Ronnander

Voices Interns: Srihita Raju, Carter Starkey Features Interns: Nina Afremov, Sophia Goetz

Online Interns: Zoe Hoornbeek

Copy Interns: Veronica Nowakowski, Anika Wilsnack

Music Reviews Interns: Avery Wageman, Gri n Jacobs

This Issue

Writers

Marie Ronnander, Erica Bouska, Stella Melho , Olivia Hines, Abby Vela, Avery Wageman, Shenali Desilva, Ian Knoll, Goamaar Paul, Nina Afremov, Sophia Goetz, Jemma Keleher, Carter Starkey, Quinn McClurg, Devna Panda, Vern Nowakowski, Sanjali Roy, Gracie Kibort, Max Pritchard, Beryl Belmonte, Nikhil Kumaran, Anika Wilsnack, Sophia Whelan, Kami Kendall, Srihita Raju

Creative Submissions

Anika Wilsnack, Shannon Brault, Gracie Kibort & Natalie Williams, Vern Nowakowski

Instagram: @thewakemagazine

Twitter: @the_wake

Facebook: @thewakemagazine

Executive Director

Creative Director

Finance Manager

PR/Ad Manager

Social Media Manager Art Director Web Manager Distribution Manager Designers

Shannon Brault

Laura Kuchar

Erin Krotz

Hannah Lundquist Renée Mottet

Megan Bormann Sahra Hussein Kami Kendall Gavin Schuster Makenna Larson Zoë Foster

PR/Ad Interns: Pat Gagnon, Gracie Kibort

Social Media Intern: Natalie DeBaker

Art Interns: Sarah Jiang, Madison Kuehn, Natalie Williams

Art

1 Megan Bormann, 2 Natalie Williams, 3 Anisha Joshi, 4 Sarah Jiang, 5 Madison Kuehn, 6 Jack Rahill

Cover Art: Wake Elementary’s Student Body Feature Art: Sarah Jiang Feature Spread Design: Zoë Foster

The Top Five PBS Kids Shows, They Just Don’t Make ‘em Like They Used To, The Best (or Worst?) of KIDZ BOP, Lady Whistledown’s Review of Friday Night’s Sleepover: 4/10, Ms. Frizzle, LaVar Burton & Bill Nye, and The Series of Unfortunate Events that Led Me to This Book images are from original sources.

The Wake Student Magazine 126 Co man Memorial Union 300 Washington Avenue SE Minneapolis, MN 55455

Art by Shannon Brault

Bring your coolest Christmas presents and Grandma gifts, because this Thursday is Show and Tell! Lilith has promised to bring the cool shell she got on her family’s vacation, Thomas said his dad said he could bring in his RC Helicopter, and Billy… well Billy is probably going to show his Blue Power Ranger action figure for the fifth week in a row.

Mr. Rickle’s Classroom

Gym class is back outside, and better than ever! No one at Wake Elementary knows what it is or where it comes from, but our insider source (Coach Johnson’s daughter) tells us he’s gonna bring out that giant, rainbow parachute. And gosh dangit (mom says I can’t cuss) I’m gonna get to run under it this time, no matter what.

Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Playground

Get dressed in your finest overalls, Uggs, or Silly Bandz, smile for the camera, and try not to blink when they flash that super duper big light directly in your eyes! I hear flannels are all the rage this year, but Mom is gonna make me wear an itchy turtleneck again. I just know it.

Hallway outside Principal Magurk’s O ce

Town famous Certified Ross Instructor® “Billy’s Mom” comes to class this Friday to teach us how to paint a lake view in the style of the master himself! Everyone but the art nerds do horribly. June misunderstands the assignment and paints a duck, and Billy just eats the paint again.

Mrs Schlaterman’s Classroom

History teacher Mrs. Yang takes the school on a trip to learn what Minnesota “homesteads” were like. Our informants in the fifth grade say that everything is made of dirt, and they force you to milk goats. Also, my mom said she’d sign up to be a chaperone, which means I get an extra cool sack lunch (as long as Billy doesn’t get lost again and makes us miss lunch).

Bubba Joe Historical Farm

the Editor

Letter from the Editor in Chief

“Work hard, be nice.”

Every morning in elementary school, our principal would greet students with that phrase. I’d like to welcome you to The Wake’s final issue of this semester—our Bizarro issue, from The Wake Elementary—with those same words.

Thinking back to full classrooms, noisy hallways, and playgrounds full of small children… working hard and being nice was sometimes a tall order. But the beauty of that phrase lies in its simplicity, in its reminder of what is most important: try your best at your work, and treat yourself and those around you with kindness. I can’t pretend that I remember everything about grade school, but I have always remembered those words. And thirteen years later, they still guide me.

My life and responsibilities now, as you might imagine, are a bit di erent from when I was seven. My worries are bigger than who the boy I liked was sitting next to at lunch or how many words I missed on the spelling test (although, to be clear, I am also still preoccupied with crushes and am a terrible speller). Book reports about “Charlotte’s Web” have been replaced by literary theory and far too much Shakespeare. Alongside the strange cheers and chants I memorized on the playground, my brain now holds much more important information that I only remember half as well as the rhymes to “brick wall, waterfall.”

All of that can feel incredibly overwhelming; no matter what your life holds now, maybe you, too, have longed for the simplicity you’ve grown out of. So I’m here to say that even now, all you can really do is work hard and be nice. One of the hard parts about, you know, not being seven, is that you now decide what hard work means. You can’t do it all—just like you couldn’t possibly know every single foursquare rule when you were an elementary schooler, there’s only so much one person can hold. But extend yourself the same compassion you o er to others and try your best at what you can. You are allowed to let go of the rest, as long as when it matters, you work hard, be nice.

Happy reading,

Marley Richmond Editor-in-chief

Journey Home

BY MARIE RONNANDER

An entire hour has now passed and I am still waiting in Mrs. Wibell’s room to be picked up from my 100th day of third grade. My teal pu er and sparkly pink mittens, long ago given up, sit in a pile on the chair next to me while I look intensely out the frosted window. Each tick of the clock maintains a rhythm with the impatient tapping of Mrs. W’s foot. My mom has abandoned me once again, and I desperately need freedom.

I hastily begin putting on the winter layers while casually adding, “hey Mrs. Wibell? I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

With another flick through her Fit Over 50, she mumbles, “Mhm. Don’t get lost, sweety.” And I begin the escape.

Dragging two half-full gallons of Hawaiian Punch (brought to ring in the one-hundredth day) behind me, I hustle out the door and down the hallway. In a minute I’m standing in the frigid Wisconsin air with two miles left on my journey. The CharlieCheck-First anti-kidnapping campaign is running through my head as I cross my first street. Strangers are dangers.

Hot anger is coursing through me. How could I be forgotten? Am I not her number one priority? The sun her world revolves around? What else could she possibly be thinking about other than her own daughter? There is no way a job is that timeconsuming. I scrawl out, “I AM MAD AT YOU MOM” furiously in the nearest snowbank. Then quickly erase it out of guilt.

Rounding the last corner to my house I am nearly in tears. My arms are sore, my hands are cold, and my tummy is grumbling. Grunting up the last steps I finally reach the door and… it is locked. That’s it. I have no choice. With my head hanging I walk to the neighbors and timidly tap the door.

It opens. “Mom forgot me at school again,” I flash puppy eyes with an innocent smile, and he hands me the phone without another word.

Confessions at Catholic School

BY ERICA BOUSKA

It’s the worst time of year. The priests are in the gym, the tension is building in your fourth-grade classroom, and your religion teacher has been warning you all week. It’s here. Confession. The most terrifying sacrament. But if you follow these steps, you might make it out alive.

Step 1: Never, ever talk to your priest. The priest from your church that you see during school mass and speaks to your class every once and a while, you can’t tell him. He knows you. He knows your parents, your teachers. Every time you see him, he’ll sit there, judging you. Go talk to one of the priests they brought in from a nearby church.

Step 2: Timing is everything. When you trek to your gym with the 50 people above confession age–from the baby second-graders to the superior eighth-graders–you have to time when you get in line. You’re aiming for the middle end. That way, the priest has already gone through 20 people, and he’s tired. But he won’t remember you because you aren’t last. It’s perfect.

Step 3: Write your script when you get in line. You’ve done this for two years now. You know the rhythm of what’s going down. You’ve seen kids freeze when they aren’t prepared and traded silent glances as you step forward in the jolting line. So rehearse in your head. Plan the priest’s response. Always have backup confessions in case he goes o -script. But don’t prepare until you’re in line. Otherwise, it’ll sound practiced. Your stutter and pauses must be genuine.

Step 4: The confession must be specific but broad and exactly what he’d expect from a fourthgrader. The go-to: I lie to my parents sometimes. Easy, believable, innocuous. Something religious is always a good bonus: I should pray more, or I sometimes use God’s name in vain. Then he knows God is on your mind.

Step 5: Take whatever penance the priest gives you with a shaky smile and return to your folding chair. But most importantly, you do your prayers. You can prepare for the priest. But God sees everything.

On one of the many fateful days my mother forgot me at school

How to bear your soul in a respectable way

Yearbook Lovers

A ranking of my childhood crushes

BY STELLA MEHLHOFF

Oh, to remember elementary school romance. Back when things were simple, and crushes were relevant only because it was exciting to confess them at sleepovers. In honor of my nostalgia for uncomplicated childhood ideas of love, here are my crushes before the age of 12, ranked:

7. Rocco: I liked Rocco because he was fast during games of tag, had nice eyelashes, and wore neon green snow pants. My infatuation was short-lived, however, because he decided it was fun to push me o the snow hill during recess while I was trying to play polar bears. He ended up telling everyone in the 3rd grade that we were dating (not cool, Rocco). Turns out, I dodged a bullet—by seventh grade, he was dealing pot in the back of the bus.

6. Orlando Bloom: When I was little, my favorite movie was Pirates of the Caribbean, so naturally, Will Turner was the definition of a heartthrob for me. I loved his accent, his poofy shirts, and his positive masculinity. I also happened to fancy Legolas from Lord of the Rings. I discovered that Orlando acted them both like last year. Still not sure if he’s the common thread or if it’s the character I was into. Either way, he’s only low on this list because it’s a little basic.

5. Aladdin: Yes, the animated one. I mean, the guy can dance and sing, which was very appealing to a former theatre kid. He also has a pet monkey which is obviously a major bonus. Though, this crush did backfire slightly because it made me romanticize shoplifting candy bars and living on a roof (damn you, Disney). Although, when it was time to audition for my 4th-grade production of Aladdin Kids, I had both parts of “A Whole

New World” memorized— helping me score the esteemed role of Vendor Soloist 10.

4. Benjamin: Oh, Ben, my bus stop flirtation. We would both get there every morning early just to talk or have snowball fights. Throughout every year of elementary school, he had the honor of being the only boy invited to my gigantic birthday parties (which I’m sure he loved). On the last day of school one year, we even confessed our mutual crushes. Unfortunately, because it’s elementary school, we didn’t really know what came after that. In middle school, we stopped talking, but he always brought back good memories when I saw him in the halls.

3. Ava: Ava was the only person in my 4th-grade class who read as many words per minute as me in the speed-reading tests. I also always volunteered to play her love interest when we played games. The dream I had in which we got married sealed the deal. At the time, I thought it was quite funny. I think I even told my Mom about it; now… well, let’s just say it aided some other realizations. Not number one because once she tried to convince me she was a vampire, and it was actually kind of convincing? Like suspiciously convincing?

2. The Robin Hood Fox: Look, I am a little ashamed that I had a crush on another animated thief, who also is a fox (I promise that never became a pattern). That being said, even in hindsight, his character had everything going for him. Really good with a bow and arrow, has a nice voice, and abuses the system to help the poor? My kind of man right there.

Finally, Number 1…. Kaden: Kaden was the “it” boy

of 5th grade. Everyone liked him. I even put a redsharpie heart around his name in my yearbook. One time, we had a real bonding moment when we got paired for a project in which we had to draw Thanksgiving food—let me tell you, that boy sketched a mean turkey. I sat next to him junior year in science class, and he still doodled in his notes all the time. I swear to god, he better not see this because I would go out with him tomorrow if he asked.

The Tattle Tale

The Wake Gossip Column

BY OLIVIA HINES

Hey guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! Some crazy things happened on the playground today, and of course, your favorite tattletale is here to tell all the secrets.

Looks like Cupid’s arrow has struck again. “Ms. Popular,” Penny Wiseman, has moved on from her latest boyfriend, Stevie Fergus. Last week, the now ex-couple was happily playing foursquare, but now Penny is with none other than the playground’s cutest boy—Tyler Jordan. The new “it” couple was recently caught holding hands under the slides!

Of course, love isn’t just for Penny and Tyler. Our favorite girl power duo, Stacy and Macy, became sudden frenemies during our fabulous field trip to the zoo. For three whole days, everyone found the pair on opposite sides of the playground, instead of playing side-by-side as usual! But today, the two have finally made up, with each wearing a fabulous array of colorful beaded friendship bracelets and necklaces.

In another fascinating piece of gossip, it appears Billy Shcender has finally met his match. The playground’s infamous bully has been terrorizing our sandbox for far too long. However, it seems his newest and most favorite victim, Shane Paulson, who Billy’s been bullying for the last two weeks, has caused the tables to turn. We all know that Billy cannot refuse a dare, especially a triple-dog-dare. From my sources, I’ve heard that Shane dared Billy to do a cherry bomb o the monkey bars ten times, and Billy did, only to break his arm the tenth time. He was sent to the nurse’s o ce, where he cried for his mom, and later, an ambulance drove him to the hospital. With his reputation ruined, our playground’s bully is out of commission. Who will take his place?

I hope today’s gossip has filled your cup, but don’t worry, friends, I’ll be back tomorrow!

Invasion of the Big People:Football A Letter to the Principal

A list of grievances about NFL Play60

BY ABBY VELA

Dear Mrs. Principal,

My mom told me that I should write you a “strongly worded letter” about Monday’s assembly. I was very very upset with the guests who came during my class’ phy ed. We were supposed to play kickball. I like kickball. I like it because I’m not always the last one picked for teams. Jimmy usually gets picked last when we play kickball. I like Jimmy, though. He is very nice and sometimes we play Pokemon together behind the bleachers when my asthma is bad and my inhaler doesn’t help. But we couldn’t play Pokemon or kickball on Monday because of the football players that came to class with lots of footballs and cones and things for us to run around and jump over.

All class we had to run around and do sports drills. We were told that we had to keep going, even when we didn’t want to. There was a break station with water, but other than when we were at that station, we didn’t get to stop unless we were waiting in line. And the whole time, there were people with big cameras telling us to smile and look like we were having fun. But I wasn’t! My mom tells me I shouldn’t lie, so I did not like that. Quite frankly, I was very disappointed.

When I told my mom about my day, she was not happy. She said that making us do drills is an “infringement of our rights,” and is “training children to be mindless sheeple working for the man.” I don’t know what that means. But I couldn’t show Jimmy my new Pokemon cards. Please never have the football people come to Wide Awake Elementary again.

Sincerely,

Emily Peterson, 3rd Grade

The Fabio Believers

BY AVERY WAGEMAN

As of today, I am proud to announce that I am the newest member of the Fabio Believers Club! One of my friends made it up because she thinks Fabio, a model for romance novel covers, is cool and invited me to join them at lunch today. It sounded fun and I’ve never been in a club before! I didn’t even know who Fabio was until today. I also don’t know what we believe in him for, but my friend showed me a picture of him and with that glossy, wind-swept hair, who wouldn’t believe?

Everyone in the Fabio Believers gets to be named after a celebrity, which I think is the coolest part. The other members are Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Taio Cruz, Enrique Iglesias, and Beyoncé. I was named Kesha because I guess I kinda look like her. I really like her song “TiK ToK,” so that’s cool. Tomorrow, I’m getting my o cial membership card printed when we go to the computer lab! All the other members already have their cards taped to their desks to show them o ; I can’t wait to do that too!

I’ve kinda been in between friend groups this year, so it’s nice to be asked to be a part of something. We believe in Fabio and we believe in each other. I wonder if the club will still be together in 10 years, or if we’ll look back fondly on this moment as a fleeting part of our existence. We pledged to forever believe in Fabio, but will we always believe in each other? Does Fabio believe in us?

Ope, the bell for recess just rang! My friends and I are gonna pick up our four-square tournament. I guess my existential questions will have to wait.

An Ode To My Favorite Teacher

BY SHENALI DESILVA

Sometimes, we are lucky enough to meet people who are the embodiment of sunshine. If you’re extra lucky, they get to be your third grade teacher. Over a decade ago, I was Mrs. Schafer’s student, and to this day, I can’t help but grin when I think about her. There was nobody like her, and that’s what people admired about her the most. Her laugh echoed through the hall, making second graders excitedly await the day when they would be her students. Past students beamed with pride when they saw her, almost as if to say, “Look at me! I’m all grown up now!”

One of my most prominent memories was how she’d circle the blacktop during recess, even on chilly days. Students adored her so much that some would follow behind her, much like ducklings following their mother. Once her nose turned bright red from the Minnesota chill and the ducklings struggled to keep up, it was a sign that recess was over. Even then, we were giddy with anticipation for storytime. One of Mrs. Schafer’s favorite books was “Sideways Stories from Wayside School” by Louis Sachar. She’d pour her heart into voicing the characters, almost as if directing a film. Storytime, and, frankly, every activity she did with us was so much more enjoyable because she had just as much fun as we did.

Mrs. Schafer was not only an excellent teacher but also an excellent person. She believed in our talents and reminded us how loved we were. Regardless of who we were, she found a way to make her class feel like a family. Even as a college student, there isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay to be back in her class, listening to her read us another story.

Reminiscing on the weird, but very exclusive club I joined in 5th grade

Thank you for showing me that being yourself is worth its weight in gold

An Ode to Scholastic Book Fair (in sonnet)

BY IAN KNOLL

The day is young and pure and so am I When from the room Miss Adleman alights Line Leaders rise as cheerful children cry “Make thanks, Scholastic Fair is soon in sights!”

Down halls of crayon drawings all do pace Past lines of lockers full and stu ed with coats Though rules forbade us all to scream or race Joy fills our velcro shoes and eager throats

The minutes stretch along to painful year Like math class does before the recess bell But soon Gymnasium doorways appear To whisk us to where markers smell of rose.

The land of boundless books and dreams unlaced The land where I first felt true love’s embrace.

***

We are surrounded by the tomes of yore The works of Stine, Osborne, and Applegate Goosebumps, Treehouse, Animorphs we adore Such works the masters’ ghostwriters create!

And even the non-Bookworm find joys expressed Knickknacks and games the fair to thee imparts Spy Gear, LeapFrog, but Oregon Trail is best Until the love of text enshrines your heart

A place where Kinley and Riordan rule Where books glitter and pens light up like toys And true readers are freed from boring school Where all is right, creation rests with poise

Yet as summer does wane and yield to school So too must we bid greatness now adieu For soon math class must begin (oh fate so cruel!) Our books we wait for mom to buy still new

We leave the Fair with hearts yet full and bright And sleep that night with books besides nightlight.

Mastering Mass

BY GOAMAAR PAUL

Enduring an hour-long church service may seem di cult if you’ve never done it before—for a Catholic school kid, it’s light work. Going to Mass for the first time? Here are some tips to help you get through a lengthy service without completely losing your mind!

1. For the Popstar-in-Training:

For the musically-inclined among us, poring through the hymnals is your best bet. If you haven’t been paying attention in music class, it may be di cult to tell the treble clefs from the eighth notes, but don’t fret! Singing along to “Amazing Grace” and “Here I Am, Lord” will soon have you forgetting all about your elementary-level musical knowledge.

By the time the choir gets to “They’ll Know We are Christians,” you might actually be having a little fun.

2. Scandalous

Bible Stories

If you can get your hands on a Bible, be sure to check out its most interesting tales. Want to know just how terrible life could get? Check out the story of Job! Interested in beheadings? Read all about Judith and Holofernes! Been having escapist fantasies? Take notes from Jonah’s stay in the whale.

3. Sneaky Snoozer

Every seasoned mass-goer gets this scheme down to a science by the time they’ve sat through the third droning homily in a month. It is imperative that you escape your teacher’s watchful eagle eye. Any sign of drowsiness will earn you a spot right next to them, where they can (and will) ensure you’re the perkiest member of the congregation. Tuck your head, close your eyes, fold your hands, and snooze away! The pews are much comfier than they seem.

4. “But I Have an Appointment!”

A strategy that can be pulled o only by the craftiest of us:

If your mother makes an o hand remark about an upcoming doctor’s appointment, don’t let the opportunity slip! How unfortunate it is that you have a book report to give on Tuesday and a field trip on Thursday - leaving Wednesday, specifically during Mass, the only available time for an appointment.

P.S. —If you play your cards right, you may even get to strut proudly back into class with McDonald’s.

Shall I compare thee to pajama day?

A Catholic school kid’s guide to getting through Mass (without being bored)

Art by Gracie Kibort & Natalie Williams

Due to recent budget cuts on arts programs at Golden Meadow Elementary School, students have noticed that less time and resources are being dedicated to the arts. In response, they have written letters to their principal, explaining how the arts support them in their education.

Dear Principal Abott,

My name is Penelope, and I’m a third grader at Golden Meadow Elementary School. Since I was three and a half, I have been a painter. I like to paint with everything, no matter what! When I was younger, I got in trouble because I would paint on the wall when my mom or dad weren’t looking. They would take my crayons and paints away for a few days. It was so sad because all I wanted to do was draw what was in my head on the walls.

Painting is fun at home, but it was so much funner when I started first grade because that is when I met Ms. Huxley. You might know her because she is a very nice lady. She was my art teacher in first and second grade. My other teachers lined us up in a straight line and we would walk all the way to her classroom, where it is really colorful. I never saw more colored pencils or paint brushes in one place in my life! She even had this thing called a kiln. In her class, we put on big aprons and played with clay. And she started the kiln and put our bowls and cups inside it. I still use the bowl I made in her class for my Cheerios!

Ms. Huxley also taught me how to draw. On her whiteboard, she sometimes drew cats or flowers or something and showed us how to draw them. I loved it so much. When I’m in my other classes, I’ll draw things in my notebook! All because Ms. Huxley showed me how to get started.

When I came back for third grade this year, I was excited to see Ms. Huxley. She is my favorite, and her class is my favorite. It is what I like most about school besides recess. But Mr. Molitor told us that we wouldn’t have art class anymore. I asked my mom about it and she said there is no more money for it. I get really sad when I walk past Ms. Huxley’s old classroom because she is not even there anymore. Now I feel like there is no reason to go to school if I can’t paint or draw with my friends every week. Bring Ms. Huxley and art class back, please!

Dear Principal Abott,

My name is Emery, I’m nine years old, and I love music! I listen to music all the time: on the way to school, during quiet hours, and before bedtime. My mommy tells me that even when I was in her tummy, I would dance to the music she played on the radio. I love music because it can sound happy, sad, or in between. No matter how I feel, music always makes me happy. When I was six, my parents said I was finally big enough to play the cello!

At Golden Meadow Elementary School, Mr. Sharpe taught me all about how the cello and the bow have di erent names for di erent parts, just like we do. My favorite one is called the frog. I think it is funny because it doesn’t even look like a frog. It’s just where you hold onto the bow. Mr. Sharpe taught us so many cool words to use to talk about music. When the song goes fast we say it is allegro, but when it’s slow we call it adagio. We also get to learn about people from a long time ago, like Mr. Beethoven and Mr. Handel, who wrote music that we still listen to today. Mr. Sharpe says that I can write my own music too. I hope that people will listen to my music even when I am one hundred years old.

Mr. Sharpe is also our orchestra conductor. An orchestra is when a bunch of people bring their di erent instruments together and make even cooler sounds than just by themselves. Mr. Sharpe says the orchestra is kind of like the world: the best kind of music is made from many di erent kinds of instruments, not just one. Even though I love the cello the most, sometimes I wish I could play all the instruments. That would be so fun.

My mom and dad say my best subject is math. But I think my favorite is music. I am sad that we no longer have Mr. Sharpe or the music program. Without it, we cannot make happy or sad music. And Mr. Sharpe says that the only thing worse than sad music is no music.This fall, we were going to have a big concert and play our music for everyone to hear. Please bring the music class and Mr. Sharpe back so we can play again!

Dear Principal Abott,

I’m Alyssa, I’m a fifth grader, and my favorite form of art is writing. I never used to think of writing as art, because I always thought art was just drawing and painting. But last year, I had an amazing teacher named Mrs. Engels who helped me understand that art isn’t just made up of pretty colors and pictures but can include words too.

With that, it turns out I am pretty good at art. I really like writing stories about things that have happened in my life. It helps me to understand how I feel about whatever happens throughout the day. If I’m mad about something, I write about it. If I’m happy, I write about that too.

I’m writing this letter because I think you should rethink how the school has been spending less money and time on art. This year, my teacher hasn’t been able to focus on any creative writing in class because we are so busy with other things that some people think are more important. I don’t think that’s true, though. Writing has helped me more in school than anything else in all my years here.

I got to have a really great experience with a teacher who saw my talent and helped me to express it. I am so happy that I got to have Mrs. Engels, and I wish that everyone in the school could have an experience like that. Every student here deserves to explore di erent forms of art, because it can really shape your school experience. Thank you for your time, and I hope you consider supporting the arts!

Love, Penelope, Emery, and Alyssa

Jeremy’s Playground

Bullying Report

With Jimmy and Ryan at Wide Awake Elementary School

Pseudo-

Currencies in Elementary School

BY CARTER STARKEY

It’s the year 2009, and you walk into an ordinary elementary school. You walk past art rooms with finger-painted turkeys plastered on the walls, math rooms where kids are being introduced to the dubious concepts of algebra and arithmetic, and find that many of the kids are having recess. Suddenly, you stumble upon a room of excited children trading chestnut-sized plastic toys called Bakugan. When one touches a specific surface, it pops out of its spherical shape, slightly resembling a dragon or a snake. Looking back, it is a bit of a lackluster trick. Nevertheless, these things have immense value within the walls of an elementary school.

Out on the playground, you notice that kids are huddled in groups. You may see a dollar bill or two being passed around and countless wrists adorned with Sillybandz: a whole underground market of trading them back and forth. At the school store, you find lines of students waiting eagerly to buy eraser tops shaped like farm animals with their allowances. Not only did these things have value, but they acted as a language for us to explore our wants and desires from a young age.

Who knows why these small, underground markets pop up or why these items become pseudocurrencies for kids who don’t even know that word. Before any of this, kids traded snack cakes at lunch tables. Maybe it’s in our nature to turn to our neighbor, see the cool stu they have, and make some of our very first economic decisions in order to get something cool of our own. Maybe it was the corporations’ doing, designing things like toys and cards to be traded amongst groups of friends.

In the year 2022, there is no telling exactly why this phenomenon occurs. Instead, we can be thankful for some of our earliest obsessions and look back at them with the fondness they deserve.

BY QUINN MCCLURG

INTERVIEWER: Interview start! This is Jeremy at Wide Awake Elementary School and today I will be talking to Jimmy and Ryan about bullying on the playground.

INTERVIEWER: Hi! What’s your name and how old are you?

JIMMY: My name is Jimmy! J-I-M-M-Y! I’m six and in third grade! *Jimmy holds up 8 fingers.* But I skipped a grade because I’m super smart!

RYAN: The name’s Ryan. I’m the oldest in third grade.

INTERVIEWER: What is your most favorite recess activity?

JIMMY: [Flag] football is my favorite! I’m really good at it and no one can ever get me!

RYAN: I like flag football. I’m really strong and I tackle the other kids even though I’m not supposed to.

INTERVIEWER: Other kids say you’re always picked first. How does that make you feel?

RYAN: Cool. Not like I care. Everyone already knows I’m cool.

INTERVIEWER: All the kids say you’re always picked last. How does that make you feel?

JIMMY: It’s only because I’m faster than everyone else and they’re all scared of me because I’m fast.

INTERVIEWER: What do you think of Ryan?

JIMMY: He’s not good at football. I’m faster and stronger than him too.

INTERVIEWER: What do you think of Jimmy?

RYAN: He’s weird. I don’t like him. He always cries when other kids get his flag. He never leaves after he gets out either.

INTERVIEWER: Do you think you should be more nicer to Jimmy?

RYAN: No. He’s a little dweeb. “More nicer” isn’t even a word, stupid.

INTERVIEWER: Do you think you should be nicer to Ryan?

JIMMY: No. He’s a big meanie-head.

INTERVIEWER: Alright! Bye bye!

INTERVIEWER: Ok this is my end stu now. Jimmy really needs to be bullied. He doesn’t even know his numbers and he’s not even that smart. Ryan said he’s a dweeb and a crybaby too and he knows because he’s cool. Okay, this is Jeremy from fourth grade and interview done. Bye bye!

Remembering the things we bought and traded at a young age

Recess Period

Lifelong friendships and life lessons

BY DEVNA PANDA

I did not have too many friends in Mrs. Brooks’ 3rd grade class. I was one of the few kids of color, and I didn’t connect with many of my classmates, to the extent that eight-year-olds can connect with each other. But I do remember how I felt after talking to one Kavya Karthic at recess: here was another kid who seemed to understand me and was easy to be around. In nearly eleven years of friendship, that much hasn’t changed.

Our first interaction took place during recess. These twenty minutes were an opportunity for us kids to chase each other around the playground, ride on the swings, and generally do as we pleased. It was a chance to practice being instead of feeling caught in a continual state of doing.

I still vaguely remember my first conversation with Kavya. There’s a radio station that anyone from the metro area would recognize. The jingle goes, “101.3 KDWB, Minneapolis, St. Paul.” At the time, it was a topic of conversation I apparently broached often. As soon as Kavya and I began discussing the station, we realized that there was no end to the list of things we had in common. Not only did we both love KDWB, but we also liked embroidering peacocks and reading fantasies. In retrospect, I might have felt connected to her because she was also a child of immigrant parents in a predominantly white space. As a kid, I felt a sense of aversion when I thought about the fact that I was Indian-American; thinking of myself as “other”

made me want to avoid the other Indian kids around me. My hesitance to make friends with kids with similar backgrounds became evident to me when I met Kavya. However, our conversation sparked a true friendship. I couldn’t see why I had been trying to steer clear of that.

Since then, Kavya and I have had a million adventures, including oversharing during our high school commencement speeches and spontaneously flying across the country. She is the family that I have formed for myself.

Friendship can enrich your life in various ways, such as by finding a genuine connection as Kavya showed me. Friends are also supposed to challenge you to think di erently. If the rest of the world is a ray of light, your friends are the lenses that refract and bend the light to ultimately transform your worldview.

When I was ten years old, I met Favour Oladimeji. What struck me about Favour was that she was a straight shooter. She wasn’t afraid to ask me about my NWEA scores nor did she hesitate to tell me that hers were higher. She was like that with everyone. For instance, when someone did something that she thought was inherently wrong, she made her frustration known to them. She was not afraid to defy the status quo, which was a novel perspective on life to me, at 10 years old and at 18 years old.

Being in Minnesota, even in below-freezing temperatures, our elementary school made us go outside for recess, which felt like cruel and unusual punishment to a group of sixth graders. Though we all complained about this fact, Favour was the only one courageous enough to suggest that we take matters into our own hands and start skipping recess as a sign of protest. As she so wisely pointed out, they could not technically make us go outside. Every day, for twenty minutes, we began sitting in the girls’ bathroom during the recess period. A few short years ago, I had been hoping to conform with the other kids as much as possible. Favour’s attitude and our act of defiance made me realize that being di erent could possibly be a positive thing.

As Favour and I grew up together, I continued to look to her as an example of how to stick to my principles. Though I didn’t always succeed, I knew I could count on her to never waver from her moral code.

Recess a orded me the opportunity to use my time as I saw fit and exercise my free will. More importantly, it gave rise to friendships that taught me more than merely playing on the playground equipment ever could.

What Isn’t Said About Catholic School

BY VERN NOWAKOWSKI

My elementary school experience was quite similar to the general American experience. I had recess, principals, school assemblies, coloring, etc. But one thing that was di erent is that I went to Catholic school from kindergarten to 12th grade. This is where my elementary education diverts from the standard track. We had weekly Mass, a campus pastor, vacation bible school, and confession.

There are many positives to the Catholic elementary education system: training in standardized testing, high-level classes, volunteering experience, access to a strong community to fall back on (if you fit in), and great music. However, if you have ever asked a Catholic elementary school graduate about their experiences, you probably got the standard complaints: indoctrination, uncomfortable uniforms, boring Masses, pedophilia, and teachings against the LGBTQ+ community.

While all of these topics are important, I have found that people never discuss ableism within the Catholic education system. The normalization of ableism begins during the elementary school years. While I have only experienced physical disability, it is not hard to see ableism against mental or educational disabilities. I can only speak on my experience, but I can say that I didn’t meet another physically disabled person until high school.

There is no easy way to explain the confusion of an elementary school student when they are suddenly a icted with a physical disability. I, for one, cannot remember a time before my health problems started.

I have a disorder called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome–Hypermobility Type. My soft tissue is overly fragile, which means that my joints will dislocate at random times. Fourth grade was when my disorder started to interfere with my education. That was the year when my knee had its first major dislocation. I continued to have these dislocations two times a month.

Fourth grade was also when the Presidential Fitness Tests started, which is standard in most schools. I cannot quantify the amount of time I spent with ice packs after them.

If you have never attended Catholic Mass, there is a lot of kneeling involved. If you ever want to get a leg workout surrounded by gothic architecture, go to a Catholic Mass. Kneeling posture is quite important in Catholic schools. It is ingrained within each of the students with as much import as the ABCs. The wrists must be rested on the pew, not the elbows. The hands must be laced together or stood upright in prayer position. There is no slouching or resting on one’s heels. The teacher will either come and push you back up or nudge

your back into a straight line with the pointer stick. There is no wiggle room for those who cannot maintain that posture.

As you can probably imagine, for a person whose joints have a hard time staying in place, this kneeling posture was almost impossible. The correction pointer and I were as thick as thieves.

One year, I did not have to participate in standing and kneeling during Mass, due to an ankle and knee dislocation that was witnessed by my elementary school teacher. However, I was still subjected to the ridicule and judgment of the parishioners of the church. An older woman tapped me on my shoulder and voiced how rude and unprofessional I was being. My elementary school teacher pleasantly corrected the older woman and laughed it o .

This is the problem with having a disability in the Catholic school system. The elementary years establish a feeling that it is the student’s fault for having a disability, not the old woman’s fault for shaming a child she didn’t know. The correction of kneeling posture is the student’s fault, not the posture’s fault. What isn’t said about Catholic school is that those of us with disabilities spend most of our time blaming ourselves for our disabilities instead of the systems and teachers that are meant to support us.

Who is at fault when disability interferes with tradition?

Waxing Poetic

About Free Reading Time

BY SANJALI ROY

A group of twenty-some elementary-age kids in various states of disarray are set loose in the school library and told to choose… whatever they want! Then, they traipse back into the classroom, choose a nook to sit in, and curl up with a book: this is the start of the sacred ritual of free reading time. The key word in both of these sentences is “choose”; one of the great qualities of this ritual is that it was one of our only tastes of autonomy. It gave us the power to decide how we wanted to stimulate our brain, unlike in other parts of elementary school, when that was chosen for us.

Free reading time was very important for a nerdy kid like me; it sparked my imagination and took me anywhere I wanted to go. The range of choices was enormous; my school’s library was a palace to be explored. Everything from “Harry Potter” (of course), “Percy Jackson,” “Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” “Dork Diaries,” “Guardians of the Ga’hoole,” “Geronimo Stilton” and many other such stories populated the bookshelves.

I myself was a “Warrior Cats” fan. Those books did have meaning, and they were not just for the weird kids (although I am proudly a self-proclaimed weird kid). They had very adult themes—no, not like that—in the sense that they introduced me to concepts such as power, politics, and the importance of one’s relationships through a lens I could understand: talking cats. And therein, I believe, lies the true value of free reading time—it was learning about how the world works in the safest and most intellectually stimulating way possible, in a way that multiplication, smartboards, and worksheets never could.

An Ode to Children’s Fashion

BY GRACIE

Your eyes slowly open as the sun shines softly through your bedroom window onto the film photos lining your walls. It’s a true “Legally Blonde” moment, and this day will be a perfect one. You pop on your 2000s Spotify playlist, brimming with Hilary, Selena, and Miley, and browse your closet. Today you’re feeling overalls… or is it a baby tee and baggy jeans? Unsure… but pigtails for sure… or butterfly clips? “Don’t Forget” blares as you stagger back, realizing how far and how little you’ve come over the past 15 years.

Sometime in the whirlwind of 2020, Y2K fashion came back hard and fast. Butterfly clips, smiley faces, even Juicy Couture sweatsuits—all the rage. Scroll through your Instagram and the list of regressive trends multiplies. Fashion is cyclical and everything is bound to make a comeback; we’ve been prepped for the war on low-rise jeans for years. But why do we revert to Y2K fashion? Dressing in bold, colorful, patterns makes us feel comfortable, upbeat, and happy. It’s been dubbed “dopamine dressing” to explain the rush we feel when donning tie-dye crops and tiny sunglasses.

The 2000s were a time of abominable fashion choices—the image of Ashley Tisdale on the red carpet is permanently seared into my brain. Nevertheless, the Disney Channel fiend in me lived out her popstar dreams through her distressed denim skirt and microscopically tiny pink scarves. Though impermanently trendy, I robed as a DCOM star. My eightyear-old self absolutely obliterated the competition in her third-grade classroom and felt proud wearing her neon green Justice garb. This is why I’m wearing ”Converse with my dress” and pressed velvet until I’m horrified once again—I owe it to my eight-year-old self, the little girl slaying her classmates, destined for pop stardom and greatness.

Wallowing in nostalgia and reflecting on the importance of our mandatory choice

Dressing like it’s 2005 might be the truest way to honor your inner child

KIBORT

The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test

BY MAX PRITCHARD

Every time, the words would send a shiver up my spine.

“The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more di cult as it continues.”

Then the infamous “beep” would ring through the gymnasium, and I would take a cautious first step. I always walked the first few laps; everyone knew that this was the only path to survival. Sprinting through the first 20 meters may make one seem “cool,” but it was also a strategic blunder.

The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test isn’t just about speed—it’s the ultimate test of endurance, not only evaluating the fortitude of one’s body but also one’s mind and, indeed, one’s soul.

After the first few laps, a number of things would suddenly become apparent. I would notice a slight nagging pain in my leg, a stitch in my stomach, or some other previously hidden ailment. I would realize that my shorts were a size too small and on backwards.

It was always remarkable how quickly these issues would accumulate. Looking back, it occurs to me that this may have been because we were not taught how to stretch before embarking on such a strenuous physical challenge. We didn’t do any sort of cool down, either.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. With only the first few laps completed, the finish felt like it was

hundreds of miles away. After a couple dozen beeps, the first student would succumb to their exhaustion, dooming themselves to a bevy of judgemental looks and a disappointed shake of the gym teacher’s head.

Then students would start to get picked o one at a time.

The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a fascinating phenomenon for the simple reason that there are no real consequences to doing badly. Nobody is going to get held back a year for failing it, and it’s not as if it’ll bring down an elementary school student’s nonexistent GPA. Instead, most of the pressure is social, fueled by a desire to impress one’s friends, or self-induced. The dreaded instructional message orders students to “run as long as possible.” Not as long as is comfortable, but as long as one possibly can until every single step is a Herculean e ort and one’s body is drained of all energy.

I would push myself until I felt like crying, throwing up, or taking a seven-hour nap. Then I would push myself even further.

Finally, I would succumb to exhaustion, stumbling to the side of the gymnasium and watching glumly as some of the other kids kept running. I would place my hands on my knees and gasp for air—something that all of my gym teachers, from elementary to middle school, were vehemently

opposed to. They decreed that the proper recovery form was “standing upright with your hands behind your head,” a strategy that only ever made things feel worse. I felt both vindicated and betrayed when I learned years later that recent research has disproved the latter method.

I will never quite understand the purpose of The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test—students who did badly didn’t receive any extra help from the school. Perhaps it was meant to shame us into exercising more, but it sort of had the opposite e ect, turning running into a horribly unpleasant experience that was approached with dread and fear. Years later, I would learn that running can actually be quite fun. I would gain an appreciation for how one can steadily develop their abilities, slowly increasing the distances or decreasing the lengths of their runs. As a child, however, I was burdened with the belief that The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test represented the ideal exercise system, and that terrified me. It wasn’t as if our school taught us helpful running techniques either.

We didn’t think to question The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test at the time, of course. It was as inevitable as death or taxes. A necessary evil.

But looking back at this test, which burdened young children with stress, physical pain, shame, and an unhealthy desire to outperform their classmates, I can’t help but think that we would have been better o doing literally anything else.

Four words that strike fear into all American children. I relive this slice of elementary school hell and wonder why it exists.

Vern’s 5th Grade Poetry

I swear I was a happy child

BY VERN NOWAKOWSKI

Darkness: The darkness is inside There’s nowhere left to hide No you’re all alone It chills you to the bone It chases you round and round Until you’re on the ground You take your final breath And finally you welcome death

Life: Punch after punch Kick after kick Life beats you down

Like you’re a sack of bricks Open your eyes

To the cage your inside Open your ears There is nobody here Leave us alone We just want to go home

The Top Five

PBS Kids Shows

They Just Don’t Make ‘Em Like They Used To

A review of the best McDonald’s toys

BY NIKHIL KUMARAN

The Best (or Worst?) of KIDZ BOP

censorship

BY ANIKA WILSNACK

BY BERYL BELMONTE

1. From providing an endless supply of memes to being the first PBS cartoon to feature a gay wedding, “Arthur” is nothing short of a cultural relic. It had everything a kid could ever ask for: a catchy theme song, celebrity guest stars, and snappy retorts delivered by the iconic D.W.

2. As a former iPad kid and burnt-out “gifted” kid, it’s no surprise that “Cyberchase” is next on my list. This show pioneered the movement for diversifying the STEM field, with two women of color as lead characters. Extra points for the queercoded outfits and gender envy I had for Motherboard.

3. When it comes to early 2000s nostalgia, “Dragon Tales” definitely takes the cake. With its creative worldbuilding, colorful animation, quirky characters, and musical masterpieces, it’s no wonder that my elementary school friends and I would always dream of traveling to our own magical Dragon World.

4. Nothing warms my heart as much as “Curious George.” The friendship between George and The Man With the Yellow Hat radiates wholesome energy, and the silly adventures they go on never fail to put a smile on my face. This is a comfort show that only gets better with time.

5. “The Magic School Bus” isn’t just a show—it’s an experience. It looks camp right in the eye, with Miss Frizzle’s exaggerated outfits and ironically named devices like the “bingbongifier.” It also takes immersive learning to a whole new level, with some episodes quite literally giving us an inside look at our physiology.

The golden arches have gone through a lot of changes over the years. From the original 1950s design to the now-minimalistic modern design, one thing has stayed consistent. A toy with the Happy Meal. For the sake of journalistic immersion, I decided to get a Happy Meal, as a 20-year-old college student. When opening the iconic red box, a wave of nostalgia rushed through me. But nothing beats the classic toys. The top three are as follows:

3. The “Star Wars” fingerboards: These mini skateboards are probably the reason I can’t really do long division in my head. In elementary school, I spent countless class periods mastering the kickflip as well as nose grinding that piece of plastic across every object in my immediate vicinity. Until of course, my second-grade teacher confiscated it for “causing a distraction in class.” I’ve obviously gotten over it.

2. Sega handheld toys: I think we all are forgetting that Happy Meals had actual video games in them at some point. The Sega Digi Sportz handheld devices are forever ingrained in my memory. Specifically, I remember the bright yellow basketball simulator that, when I was younger, kept me occupied during long car rides and whenever I was dragged along to the bank.

1. Hot Wheels: Let’s get real here. The number one spot undoubtedly belongs to the Hot Wheels cars. As the absolute MVPs of the Happy Meal, these cars managed to stay iconic throughout the decades. They don’t really ask for much. All they require is your imagination and a hand to pilot them.

While KIDZ BOP may be a product of a decades-long battle for music censorship, they’ve undoubtedly shaped many childhoods and pushed boundaries no one asked them to. I’ve taken the initiative to craft the perfect Kidz Bop playlist, sifting through 20 years of mom-approved pop covers so you don’t have to!

Montero (Call Me By Your Name) - Lil Nas X “I want that jet lag from livin’ and flyin’ Put a smile on your face whilst we’re dinin’”

Bold choice, KIDZ BOP. I guess there’s a market for parents who do not want to explain sexuality to their “Old Town Road”-obsessed kids. The lyrics aren’t terrible, they’re just so confusing that I doubt you’re really avoiding your child’s questions. 3/10

That’s What I Like - Bruno Mars “Gold jewelry shining so bright Strawberry milkshakes so nice”

I feel like so many other less ridiculous words would have worked besides “milkshakes.” Also, does champagne need to be censored that badly? At least they’re getting creative. 3/10

My Immortal/In The End - Evanescence/Linkin Park

I’m living for the early 2000’s Kidz Bop emo era. The lyrics aren’t too special, but hearing a choir of 5 year olds sing Evanescence and Linkin Park is an out of body experience. 10/10

Green Light - Lorde “How we danced when we danced on the light up floor”

Sometimes it feels like Kidz Bop writers just throw in “dance” or “friend” when they’ve given up. This is one of those times. Lorde, I’m sorry. 2/10

The good, the bad, and the ugly of KIDZ BOP

A definitive ranking from someone who didn’t have access to cable television until middle school

Lady ReviewWhistledown’s of Friday Night’s Sleepover:

4/10

Miss Frizzle, LeVar Burton, & Bill Nye

BY SOPHIA WHELAN

On the Monday of this week, some very promising invitations were delivered to a select lucky few girls from Mrs. Jackson’s class. As the week continued, this was anticipated to be the highlight of the fourth-grade season. Sadly, this event left much to be desired.

Upon arrival, the over-exuberant family dog jumped on Miss Alexis’s esteemed guests, sending a few of the young ladies into a frenzy and marking an undignified beginning to the evening. The snacks were notably lackluster, consisting only of apple slices forsaking even a morsel of peanut butter (to accommodate Maddie’s peanut allergy). The promised pizza was also notably underwhelming, delivered an hour late and a bit cooler than desired. Any other fun was hampered by Mrs. Johnson, who insisted on phones being collected in a basket and lights out by 10 p.m.

Perhaps the least disappointing aspect of the dreary festivities was the ample fodder for Monday morning gossip. Some of the guests behaved badly indeed. Slyly circumventing Mrs. Johnson’s insistence on a PG-rated movie, Alexis convinced her mother that “Pitch Perfect” was simply a movie about the trials and tribulations of being a part of a traveling gospel choir. Based on my observations at this event, it seems that Jillian was responsible for leaving the secret admirer note found in Josh’s locker on Thursday. A few sips of 2-liter Sprite smuggled in by Jillian and this lady’s become very looselipped indeed.

A

Letter of

appreciation to the public school-induced parasocial relationship

BY KAMI KENDALL

We all got excited in class when it was time to wheel in the TV or when YouTube appeared on the Smartboard. Lights were dimmed, and the blinds were closed, the classroom’s attention gladly shifted to the front, and that one annoying kid shushed everybody. Some of us laid on our folded arms like pillows while others got pencils to doodle or pass notes, but we still couldn’t resist the fascination that these screen teachers elicited. A moment’s respite from interacting and verbalizing with our teachers.

We now know that the teacher was likely hungover or severely underpaid by the school. Regardless, our favorite TV teachers were always at the ready: “Reading Rainbow,” “The Magic School Bus,” “Schoolhouse Rock!,” “Bill Nye the Science Guy,” “BrainPOP,” “Animaniacs.”

Some of these parasocial relationships grew stronger than those with the inattentive teachers who tuned them onto the TV.

No matter how hard our heroes fall, from the straight-washing of Miss Frizzle and the whitewashing of her students to the recent betrayal of Bill Nye as a Coca-Cola ambassador, they will always hold a special place in our hearts. Hey, maybe they’re the reason why I still have an a nity for bite-sized video lessons that transformed into Khan Academy and John Green’s Crash Course videos in high school.

Maybe the oversaturation of screens cancels out the need for these TV educators today, but one can hope that kids will somehow still find a moment’s respite during the school day as we did.

The Series of Unfortunate Events that Led Me to This Book

I read this book and now I understand why adults are so sad all the time

BY SRIHITA RAJU

The first unfortunate domino that led me to this book was a storm. My mom called my teacher about 10 minutes before the day ended to let her know that she wouldn’t be able to pick me up for another couple of hours because her car skidded while she was driving and she hit a tree. This led me to head down to the library once all my friends went home, grabbing the first book I could find and sitting down in a beanbag chair right by the big window where I could watch the storm outside.

This was the most stressed I’ve ever been in my short life. The very first thing that happens in the entire book is that these three siblings, the Baudelaires, find out from a complete stranger that their parents have died in a fire that destroyed their entire home. From there, they are dropped o to live with their evil distant cousin, Count Olaf. And he is worse than all the teachers at this school combined. He makes them clean and cook everything and calls them names, all while talking about how he is waiting to steal all their money. Things just keep getting worse and worse for them! Why would someone write this book and then let it be available to children? Despite how stressed I was the whole time, the writing was funny, and the pictures were fun. They felt like they belonged in a twisted fairytale. I’m excited about the next book; it appears it will be a lot happier and more fun.

Lady Whistledown of Bridgerton o ers a scathing review of Friday night’s festivities