WWITITHHI N I N TTHHEE
CLASSROOM WALLS
Copyright © 2014 The Writers’ Exchange This book was created by Division 1, Ms. Joe’s grade 6/7 class, at Admiral Seymour Elementary in the spring of 2014. The Writers’ Exchange makes literacy exciting and accessible for inner-city kids through free mentoring and creative writing projects like this chapbook. All Writers' Exchange programs are free for the children and families we serve, so we could not exist without the support of generous donors, including Bernard MacLeod, Megan Abbott, Marily Mearns, the Vancouver Foundation, Nancy and Ted Maitland, TELUS, Coast Capital Savings Credit Union, the Central City Foundation, Lindsay Mearns, Claudia Casper and James Griffin, The Home Depot Canada Foundation and the Hamber Foundation. Thank you. And thank you to the amazing volunteer mentors who work with the kids in all Writers’ Exchange programs so that each child can succeed to the best of his or her ability.
Writers’ Exchange 881 East Hastings Vancouver, BC V6A 1R8 To read more great student writing, visit vancouverWE.com. Writers’ Exchange mentors: Eleanor, Jay, Jennifer, Laura, Ryan and Taylor Editorial support: Mira Design and layout: Caitlin Bauman, caitlinbauman.com
Writers’ Exchange in-school projects are made possible by the Vancouver Foundation and Coast Capital Savings Credit Union.
The Writers’ Exchange is a project of Tides Canada Initiatives Society.
Printing for this chapbook was generously donated by Hemlock.
As an author of a Writers’ Exchange book, you are invited to sign up for our FREE after-school and summer programs at the Writers’ Exchange home base at 881 East Hastings Street. We run programs for kids in grades 1 to 3, 4 to 7, and 8 to 12. Ask your teacher for a signup sheet, go to vancouverWE.com or call Jennifer at 604-428-8228 for more information.
WITHIN THE CLASSROOM WALLS
Introduction These poems were written by Division 1 students at Admiral Seymour Elementary School. They worked really hard over two afternoon workshops, with volunteer mentors from the Writers’ Exchange, to create poems written from the perspective of everyday objects. We hope you like them!
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Table of Contents 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 22 23 24
The Bridge of Life by Helen Poem by Anita ICE. . . OCEAN by Iftu TV & The Remote by Jacky The Slide’s Life: An Extended Haiku by Aries A Tree’s Life by Nushaiba How Poop Feels Like by Perla The Life of a Woodchip by Abe Shadows Need Love Too by Jacy Invisible by Jason Poem by Miami Hope by Annie Leaves. . . by Jena Summer Pebble by Lisa How a Swing Feels by Jeremiah Falling Falling DOWN by Ricky MY BAG by Santos Untitled #1 by Annie Untitled #2 by Emily A Table by Hamza EATEN by Ava
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The Bridge of Life A bridge is like life, it can build a relationship, to connect two different places, or connect two different people, a relationship can be a best friend or a marriage, it can make you feel safe, only, only if it is strong, however, it can be weak, then it would shatter, and break, it takes step by step to complete, a bridge is built like a relationship of life.
BY HELEN
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Feeling fresh after the cry of the rain, staying wet to let myself glisten in the bright golden sun. Fearing the presence of movement. . . mowing and stepping on me. Moping under the blistering sun, withering away as I leave. Allowing myself to sway in the wind, waving. . . . . . goodbye. . . . . . to the world.
BY ANITA
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ICE. . . OCEAN
on. I come in diff ere seas y n m h e w r e y r s a e nd w t fo ev ei m m I a gh it means se hen e. ein m thou g n
thing. Rush like no ing ste t h r I ta ou rvive wit h ay o gh u ot su tm es ll n e. wi e you fe e k l a h app B ou y I m y wa
Some say I am swee t, b ut e form is t t i so r u o ap f v a f y orm m M n a e it. I lo s. . at I m rm ay th the last ti ve th Y m r e s o e. I uf yo
e to get to you. Su rslid m m ate ert ew rything is made i th eve wi se th swallow m au e you , ev ec en e wh
BY IFTU
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TV *sigh* another day of showing moving images that evil remote control always in command like a gun and it’s wielder those people. . . starers. . . laughter in a cartoon scared in a horror film tired after a documentary crying after a love story excited during a sport game. . . I’m a device of many feelings.
Part 2: The Remote My TV buddy. . . He should be happy. He entertains but I am just controlled. Not only that, his new technology features are. . . SO COOL! He even has a DVD player and all those Wii and PlayStation devices. . . He gets to show them. AND I JUST SIT HERE! *Sigh* another day of being pressed.
BY JACKY
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The Slide’s Life: An Extended Haiku
I don’t like kids climbing me I always feel annoyed When they are gone forevermore I always feel cold When they come back, feelings change In a whole new world This happiness saves my life
BY ARIES
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A Tree’s Life Some people say I am useful. Some people say I am good for nothing, But I say I am friendly to people. Some people just want to cut me down, But they don’t know how helpful I am. I help people breathe. I give them oxygen. . . take the carbon-dioxide inside. Sometimes people don’t appreciate it. I feel bad. . . I give my shade when anyone needs it. My leaves amuse kids, But I feel bad when they tear those leaves. I feel worse when winter comes. . . and takes away all my leaves. But summer is my happy time. My leaves come back. Everyone feels the need for me. They get shade from me. My leaves change colour in fall. Everybody says it’s beautiful. I feel good. . .
BY NUSHAIBA
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How Poop Feels Like Poop feels happy when it’s warm and smelly. But when it’s cold, it feels blue and lonely in the grass. Poop feels nasty when it is soft and stinky, crappy and grumpy.
BY PERLA
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The Life of a Woodchip distant blue sky this is the life I’ve known scraggly clouds overhead muffled yells reverberate in the distance it’s as if it’s not sound at all, it’s as if I can’t even hear quiet. not a peaceful quiet, though, abandoned in a cave quiet last person in the world quiet and then. . .
no reason to get to know them I’ll be gone by tomorrow a wanderer sometimes I think of the cruel irony and curse at the evil who put me here practically bathing in others yet I’ll never settle down never stay long enough for friends I tried once– it ended badly he spoke of a land where no one poked you, where you were never moved it was called “outside of the playground” he was obviously completely mad.
chaos. black shoe blue sky white noise free fall
just as it started, it’s over other bodies poke instinctively into my back
and then. . .
chaos. this is the life of a woodchip.
BY ABE
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Shadows Need Love Too Feeling lonely when I’m with you You, minding your own business Always being ignored from my being. . . Only noticed when I’m needed How can I get your ATTENTION? How can I make you LOVE me? One day I’ll disappear. . . And you’ll only feel. . . regret.
BY JACY
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Invisible
No one admires me. Only those who need peace can see me. People notice the floor more than they notice me. When it’s dark, everyone vanishes. Leaving me to be lonely in the sky. Making me cry. Maybe because I’m quiet? Do I need to speak up? Must I thunder? Wishing not to be invisible. Can you see me? Or am I not worth noticing?
BY JASON
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:)
Pink! Pink is naturally my colour :) I’m fun, chewy & cheap :P Every kid loves me. I could be mint flavoured, strawberry flavoured, practically any flavour. I’m BUBBLE gum But I could be a bad thing too. I get stuck in hair, intestines, under shoes & under desks/chairs. Teachers hate me. Students love me. Parents yell & scream But that doesn’t matter. . . KIDS love me :)
BY MIAMI
[7 1 3]
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Hope
I love watching the laughter of kids, listening as my leaves grow old, until they let go, falling with the wind. I love letting animals rest upon my branches, as they create life in the world. But, I especially love bringing happiness while I have hope from within. . .
BY ANNIE
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Leaves. . . When the sun glows, I am illuminated, yet there is a darkness connected to me. When I fall, I know that my single chance to live my high, breezy life. . . is over. I meet the ground, which has watched and waited for me, like a predator. Touching the soil and being stepped on, slowly turning into mush. I’m afraid. Afraid of dying. Afraid of losing my loved ones. But I’m jealous. Jealous of those who can live their lives longer. Longer than me.
BY JENA
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During the summer day As a life of a pebble being. . . thrown, hit, smack on the ground. Trying to hide away. . . not wanting to be picked up or thrown. The surface of the water splish and splatter as I throw the. . . still hot, blazing pebble Waiting to be cooled off during the hot, summer season.
EVERY HOUR DAY AND NIGHT!
BY LISA
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How a Swing Feels
Do not stand on me I get excited when people swing on me I hate it when I’m ronry and there’s nothing to do I hate the two chains that hang me Some of my friends are made out of plastic or leather I wish I was a human so I could walk and have arms
BY JEREMIAH
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Falling Falling DOWN
Around a meadow, in the forest, a tree stands alone. Leaves falling, branches swaying, shouts of people? Crash, boom. . . crackle kaboom, there lies a tree taking its last and final breath. Turned into items, stuff of the demons, woodchips, cabins, tables and wooden cases, yet the majestic tree is never wasted. . . And the cycle begins again! ...
BY RICKY
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My BLUE BAG, it experiences everything. It goes where I go. I always try to bring it out, but my teacher won’t let me. My bag is always GREAT and HAPPY. If I fall, it watches. It smiles. It laughs at me BECAUSE I have dirt on my face AND I laugh because it’s dirty too. My bag experiences everything I do.
BY SANTOS
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Untitled #1
I am the moon, right now I see balloons. Up high in the sky, I’m not sure why. The galaxy is strange, space must have a high range. I see stars and the dark, I also see the many parks.
Blowing in the wind, I land on the floor, how bizarre. In the fall, that’s exactly what I do. I find freedom, mostly in autumn. Each one of us is invincible. . .
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So fluffy, like cotton candy. It’s like I can jump on it. I feel the wind blow, straight through me . . . slowly. . . Everyone knows me, I am the clouds. I pass by so quickly, yet not quickly enough. Most don’t value me . . . until. . . . . . it’s. . . . . . too. . . . . . late. . .
Once I’m gone, I’m away from here . . . forever. . . All you hear is . . . tick-tock. . . . . . tick-tock. . . but little do you know. . . what each second makes. . .
BY ANNIE
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Untitled #2 The white, fluffy cotton covers my bold self. I watch over, wise and old; full of knowledge. When the day ends. . . I slowly fall. My opposite takes my place, creating a dark change. Its illuminating lights shine off the flowing water. . . until I wake up once again. Replacing the dark with the sun. Only to be. . . repeated again. My large arms, shower over you, protecting and guarding. I sway, side to side. The sound of brilliance looms out from me, creating a windy, quiet and peaceful sound. The trees speak to me. . . I am always a race. Running against you. You beg for more, but nevertheless, once it is over, it is over. I am always moving; I never rest. My reverberating sound rings in your head. “Tick. . . Tock. . . Tick. . . Tock.” Why don’t you tell me, Who. . . Who am I?
BY EMILY
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A Table
Being a table can be a disaster. I just want to be alone. I don’t want anyone coming near me again and again and again. Nighttime to me is like a bird that just learned how to fly. What’s the use of this? This is what I was built for and I’m doing my job. A Table
BY HAMZA
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Cheese happily melts. Pepperoni, hot and salty. Sizzling out of the oven. Everyone would be lovin’ it. Squared, rectangle or round. Being sad and not making a sound. Never wants to be eaten. Always wants to find its freedom. But it never works. And now it’s on our forks.
BY AVA
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Copyright © 2014 The Writers’ Exchange This book was created by Division 1, Ms. Joe’s grade 6/7 class, at Admiral Seymour Elementary in the spring of 2014. The Writers’ Exchange makes literacy exciting and accessible for inner-city kids through free mentoring and creative writing projects like this chapbook. All Writers' Exchange programs are free for the children and families we serve, so we could not exist without the support of generous donors, including Bernard MacLeod, Megan Abbott, Marily Mearns, the Vancouver Foundation, Nancy and Ted Maitland, TELUS, Coast Capital Savings Credit Union, the Central City Foundation, Lindsay Mearns, Claudia Casper and James Griffin, The Home Depot Canada Foundation and the Hamber Foundation. Thank you. And thank you to the amazing volunteer mentors who work with the kids in all Writers’ Exchange programs so that each child can succeed to the best of his or her ability.
Writers’ Exchange 881 East Hastings Vancouver, BC V6A 1R8 To read more great student writing, visit vancouverWE.com. Writers’ Exchange mentors: Eleanor, Jay, Jennifer, Laura, Ryan and Taylor Editorial support: Mira Design and layout: Caitlin Bauman, caitlinbauman.com
Writers’ Exchange in-school projects are made possible by the Vancouver Foundation and Coast Capital Savings Credit Union.
The Writers’ Exchange is a project of Tides Canada Initiatives Society.
Printing for this chapbook was generously donated by Hemlock.
As an author of a Writers’ Exchange book, you are invited to sign up for our FREE after-school and summer programs at the Writers’ Exchange home base at 881 East Hastings Street. We run programs for kids in grades 1 to 3, 4 to 7, and 8 to 12. Ask your teacher for a signup sheet, go to vancouverWE.com or call Jennifer at 604-428-8228 for more information.
WWITITHHI N I N TTHHEE
CLASSROOM WALLS