The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary Read online

MR. STICK GUY’S GOODBYE

  Jason Chen

  For Mark

  Find a pack of sticky notes.

  Draw your old pal

  Mr. Stick Guy.

  On the next page

  draw him a little smaller.

  On the next page,

  shrink him more.

  Keep going,

  smaller and smaller

  on each page,

  until he’s nothing

  but a dot.

  Suddenly,

  Other Stick Guy appears.

  Draw a close-up

  of his face.

  Put a tear

  in the corner

  of his eye.

  Make it roll

  page by page

  down his cheek.

  May 20

  SOMETHING GOOD

  Sydney Costley

  Something good is going to happen this summer.

  I can feel it. It’s in the heat, the sun on my arms,

  the way kids rush out the door

  when school is over for the day.

  Something good is going to happen this summer.

  The pool is open. The water’s cold.

  My friends hang out by the snack shed,

  talking about middle school.

  Something good is going to happen.

  Maybe my swim team will be county champs.

  Maybe Mom will let me and Sloane go to the movies

  by ourselves. Maybe I’ll meet someone.

  Something good is going to happen.

  I can feel it in the way people don’t ignore me

  even when I’m with my sister.

  That makes me feel like I’m something good.

  May 21

  PAINTING

  Hannah Wiles

  After lunch, Mrs. Stiffler says

  we can spend the rest of the day

  outside, painting our wall.

  If I’m going to be a good

  Holy Angels student,

  I’d better start practicing now.

  I guess I kind of

  picked on Rachel this year.

  So I tell her I am sorry

  and how I think the mural

  is a great idea. She looks shocked

  that I gave her a compliment,

  but Rachel and I work

  next to each other all afternoon,

  painting and talking.

  I’m surprised! I never knew

  Rachel was so easy to talk to.

  Our class sings old folk songs

  and laughs about the crazy things

  that happened this year,

  all eighteen of us and Ms. Hill,

  having our own

  fifth-grade celebration.

  May 22

  A TANKA POEM FOR PHOENIX

  Rennie Rawlins

  My sister and me

  side by side on the mural.

  Phoenix is smiling.

  My hand holds her hand so tight,

  no one can pull us apart.

  May 26

  NOBODY TOLD ME

  Sloane Costley

  Nobody told me

  shutting down this school

  meant Mrs. Stiffler would cancel

  our Clapping Out ceremony.

  Just because we’re not

  going to school here next year,

  Mrs. Stiffler thinks it’s pointless

  to make the teachers applaud

  while our class walks

  between the buildings

  and we officially

  become middle schoolers.

  Even though she gave us back

  our fifth-grade celebration,

  I think she’s still mad at our class.

  No teachers applauding

  on our last day,

  and no Hannah next year.

  I’m thinking middle school

  will be pointless…

  until Sydney reminds me

  I won’t be alone.

  Lots of cool kids from our class

  are going to Dickinson Middle.

  But coolest of all is my

  number one super friend

  to the end,

  sister Sydney.

  May 27

  CLAPPING OUT, CLAPPING IN

  Shoshanna Berg

  I wanted to see my elementary school teachers lined up.

  I wanted to feel my feet marching into Montgomery Middle.

  I wanted my ears filled with the sound of teachers clapping.

  I wanted the scent of middle-school lockers, emptied for the summer.

  I wanted a taste of being a sixth grader.

  Instead, I see my teachers packing boxes.

  Instead, I feel dirt on the floor no one bothers to clean.

  Instead, I hear the sound of people saying goodbye.

  Instead, I smell the last lunch I will eat in this building.

  Instead of celebrating our move to middle school, I’m surprised to taste my tears.

  May 28

  HAIKU

  Newt Mathews

  We saved the frog wall.

  You’re welcome, amphibians!

  Your friends, Raj and Newt.

  May 29

  I’M A CREATURE

  Rajesh Rao

  Finally, my dad

  said I could play piano

  with the Zoo Creatures.

  My mask is a blue dart frog.

  Wait till I tell Newt the news!

  June 1

  MY VOICE

  Gaby Vargas

  When fifth grade started,

  I did not like my poems

  unless I wrote them in Spanish.

  But when Mark is helping me,

  my English is getting better.

  When fifth grade started,

  I did not like my voice.

  Too slow in English.

  Clumsy, like dropping eggs.

  But when I was singing

  in the school play,

  I loved being Belle.

  Mark asked me to sing

  with his band

  at the picnic for the fifth grade.

  Mark, Jason, Tyler,

  Ben, Raj, and me

  onstage together.

  When I sing with my friends,

  I like the sound of my voice.

  June 2

  ZOO CREATURES

  Ben Kidwell

  Zoo Creatures

  Onstage!

  One last

  Concert to

  Rock

  Emerson’s fifth grade. Mark

  And Gaby are at the mike.

  Tyler, Jason, and Raj wait

  Until I give the beat.

  Ready

  Everyone?

  Showtime!

  June 3

  UNVEILING THE MURAL

  Norah Hassan

  Brick wall, bright faces.

  One girl in a blue hijab

  smiles at her teacher.

  Beside the children

  a teacher stands tall, so proud.

  Her scarf flutters, a flag.

  June 4

  DEDICATION

  Katie McCain

  When we dedicated the mural,

  my mom nearly had a conniption.

  She says people who go shopping

  at the new supermarket won’t know

  what an awesome kid I am when they see

  a painting of a girl with purple hair,

  holding her pet snake.

  At least Jason thinks I’m awesome,

  no matter what color my hair is.

  He asked my mom if I could go out

  for ice cream after our Moving Up ceremony.

  My mom said it was fine with her.

  Me going out with Jason Chen.

  What could be more normal?

  June 5

  MOVING UP SPEECH

  Jason Chen

  Dearly Exhausted,

  We are gathered here to end

  the many years w
e’ve spent together

  at Emerson Elementary School.

  Sickness—check. Health—check.

  Better—sometimes.

  Worse—let’s not go there.

  Forsaking all other fun activities

  when there was homework to do?

  Let’s just say we did our best.

  As we walk across this stage tonight,

  fifth grade and Emerson

  become memories

  we shall have and hold

  as long as we all shall live.

  That means forever,

  and that’s a mighty long time,

  but I’m here to tell you

  there’s something else—middle school.

  A world of never-ending lockers,

  where homework is assigned every night.

  In this life, things have been much easier

  than they are in middle school,

  but take a look around you.

  You won’t be on your own.

  By the power given to me

  by the votes of my wise classmates

  when they chose me to make this speech,

  I now pronounce the fifth-grade class

  Moved Up.

  June 8

  SELF-PORTRAIT

  George Furst

  Before the Moving Up ceremony,

  I asked my father to come see our mural.

  There I am on the wall.

  My name is underneath:

  George Washington Furst,

  President of the Last Fifth Grade.

  “Did you have a good year

  as class president?” Dad asked.

  I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

  I wish we could have saved Emerson

  almost as much as I wish

  I could have convinced my dad

  to come home and live with me

  and Mom and Vernon, the cat.

  We look at the bulldozers,

  already parked behind the school,

  and I tell my dad

  I’m running for student council

  next year. One day, I hope to be

  the student representative

  to the Board of Education.

  The kids in this school system

  need a strong voice.

  This year, I found mine.

  June 9

  GOODBYE

  Edgar Lee Jones

  Yo, Notebook.

  Goodbye from your fifth-grade poet.

  My class has Moved Up.

  I wore a fine white suit,

  black shirt, silver tie.

  When I walked across the stage

  I knew my mom would cry.

  I am writing one last poem,

  knowing my grandpa

  is there, somewhere,

  reading over my shoulder

  never looking a day older.

  I won’t forget this year,

  how we tried to keep

  this building alive.

  How fighting back

  made our classroom thrive.

  In twenty-five years,

  when the time capsule

  gets sprung from its wall,

  I will take you out

  and read all my poems

  about friends, sad times,

  things that made me

  want to rhyme.

  I know you’ll be

  waiting in the dark,

  a quiet spark,

  so I’ll never forget

  a fifth-grade boy

  called Edgar Lee,

  who loved poetry.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  According to the saying, it takes a village to raise a child. Imagine the size of the village required to bring Ms. Hill’s eighteen students to life! I am grateful to many friends and readers, especially: Melinda Abbott, Marjory Bancroft, Veronica Bartles, Barbara Quarrier Dell, Jennifer Della’Zanna, Jacqueline Douge, Jane Elkin, Erin Hagar, Jennifer Dennison Lewis, Naomi Milliner, Marieke Nijkamp, Lona Queen, Debby Rippey, Amie Rose Rotruck, Holly Thompson, and Timanda Wertz. Joy McCullough-Carranza mentored me through a significant rewrite. Poet and translator Patricia Bejarano Fisher deserves recognition for her work on Gaby’s poems. Hannah’s poem “Hugs and Kisses” was inspired by the Hauk family. Thanks to the real Aunt Jennie, Jennie Steinhauser, for sharing her matzo candy. Ann Bracken and Patricia VanAmburg, educators and poets both, were models for Ms. Hill. Illustrator Abigail Halpin is so talented, I recognized each of the Emerson fifth graders immediately.

  I could not have written this book without the Maryland State Arts Council’s Artists-in-Residence Program. Among the classrooms I have visited, Northfield Elementary’s third grade holds a special place in my heart.

  The Last Fifth Grade and I found a champion in my amazing agent, Stephen Barbara, who is part coach, part expert guide to the ins and outs of publishing. Like me, Stephen is a fan of Edgar Lee Masters’s 1915 verse novel, Spoon River Anthology, which was a model for early drafts.

  It has been a joy working with the team at Wendy Lamb Books, whose time and energy enlivened Ms. Hill’s class. I appreciate copy editor Colleen Fellingham’s keen eye, and her patience. Art director Kate Gartner and senior designer Trish Parcell took great care to make The Last Fifth Grade feel as cozy as spending time with a good friend. Special thanks to my editor, Wendy Lamb, and her assistant, Dana Carey. They have been generous with their guidance, trust, and enthusiasm.

  I am grateful for my children’s patience and humor. And most humble thanks to my husband, Rob, who is not a writer, which makes his understanding that rarest of gifts: empathy.

  A CLOSER LOOK AT THE POEMS IN THIS BOOK

  READING POETRY

  The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary is a book of persona poems, which means that each poem is written in the voice of one of the characters.

  Listen to those voices. Whether you are reading aloud or silently, imagine that these poems are no different from speaking with a friend. Poems are very much like people. They try to make you laugh with a joke, tell you a sad story, or share a secret. But like people, poems don’t always reveal everything they know. You might want to ask the poem, “What do you mean when you say that?”

  Sometimes the fun of reading a poem is laughing at silly rhymes like the ones Jason Chen writes. Other times the fun comes from creating pictures in your mind, like the ones described in Norah Hassan’s poems. Best of all is when a poem hints at something that makes you want to figure out its meaning for yourself. Why is that the most fun? Because that is the moment when you become part of the poem.

  FAVORITE FORMS FROM ROOM 5-H

  Acrostic

  In acrostic poems, the first letter of each line spells out the subject of the poem. This cool form is read the usual way, but also vertically, down the side of the page.

  SUGGESTION: Write about a friend, using his or her name to form an acrostic. The more details you include about the person, the more your poem will resemble your friend.

  Model poem: “Things That Annoy Me” by Katie McCain

  Concrete Poem

  Concrete poems are shapely. The words of the poem form the shape of whatever the poem is about. We read the poem, but we also see it.

  SUGGESTION: Pick an object that’s important to you—your favorite soccer ball, a lucky hat, your pillow. Draw an outline of your object on paper. Fill in the shape by telling a story about your object, or describe what makes this item important to you.

  Model poem: “Lucky Hat” by Ben Kidwell

  Diamante

  Diamantes are seven-line poems. They are named for the diamond shape they make when centered on a page. Poets start with two nouns that are opposites (“Summer” and “Winter”) or two words that are related (“Cold” and “Ice”).

  Line 1: Noun

  Line 2: Two adjectives about the noun in line 1

  Line 3: Three “-ing” verbs that show the noun in action

  Line 4: Four nouns or a short phrase that link line 1 to li
ne 7

  Line 5: Three “-ing” verbs that show the last word of the poem in action

  Line 6: Two adjectives about the noun in line 7

  Line 7: Noun (synonym or antonym of line 1)

  SUGGESTION: Write about a special day—a snow day, your birthday, or a holiday.

  Model poem: “Valentine Diamante” by Rachel Chieko Stein

  Epistolary Poem

  Epistolary means “written as a letter.”

  SUGGESTION: Make a poetry postcard. Draw a picture or cut out a photograph you like from a magazine and glue it on the front of your postcard. On the back, write a letter to someone (real or imaginary) in the form of a poem.

  Model poem: “Anything” by Sydney Costley

  Fib (Fibonacci Poem)

  Fibs are a new form of poem, invented by author Gregory K. Pinkus. By counting syllables, Fibs follow the Fibonacci sequence of numbers. It’s easy to do. Start with 0 (an empty line). Then 1 (a one-syllable word). Add them together to get your next line: 0 + 1 = 1 syllable. Keep adding the last two numbers to get the next number in the sequence. In nature, Fibonacci numbers make a spiral like the ones formed in a nautilus shell. In a poem, the sequence looks like this:

  Empty line: 0 syllables

  Line 1: 1 syllable

  Line 2: 0 + 1 = 1 syllable

  Line 3: 1 + 1 = 2 syllables

  Line 4: 1 + 2 = 3 syllables

  Line 5: 2 + 3 = 5 syllables

  Line 6: 3 + 5 = 8 syllables

  Line 7: 5 + 8 = 13 syllables

  SUGGESTION: Since the Fibonacci sequence is found in nature, try writing a Fib about the natural world. Insects and spiders, animals, plants, and even outer space all make great topics for Fibs.

  Model poems: “Two Fibonacci Poems” by Newt Mathews

  Found Poem