The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary Read online

  He is brown, always

  smiling, never down.

  Has wrinkled

  tortoise-neck skin.

  He remembers when

  my father

  went to this school.

  He frowns

  when I tell him

  they’re going to crash it

  to the ground.

  So what

  if Emerson’s

  getting old?

  Grandpa talks to me

  in a voice low

  and smooth.

  “I’ve seen you

  from my window,”

  he’ll say.

  “Climbing trees

  the way I used to do,

  sitting in the branches,

  telling yourself

  stories.” I wish

  Grandpa was

  a kid again. I think

  we would be friends.

  October 7

  WHERE THEY LIVE

  Brianna Holmes

  At Hannah’s father’s house I saw a piano.

  She called it a baby grand.

  Looked full-grown to me.

  Rennie’s house has its own library.

  Books on every wall

  and soft chairs to read in.

  I went to Sloane and Sydney’s.

  They have their own walk-in closet filled with clothes.

  Some still have price tags on them.

  Shoshanna’s got this little box on her door.

  She says it has a prayer inside. At the motel where I live,

  we can’t put stuff on our door.

  If they close our school in June,

  maybe the kids in my class will get it…

  what it’s like to be homeless.

  Until then, I want to play at each girl’s house

  so when my mom gets a job, an apartment,

  I’ll know exactly what I want:

  A place filled with music and books,

  closets stuffed with the clothes I design,

  and my own room—the answer to my prayers.

  October 8

  GREEN TOENAILS

  Katie McCain

  I like to paint my toenails green.

  It drives my mother crazy.

  My room’s a mess. Mom wants it neat.

  She says that I am lazy.

  I streaked my hair with blue Kool-Aid.

  I stand out in a crowd.

  Mom says I’m like my own parade

  because I am so loud.

  My grades are good. My friends are nice.

  I sing and dance and juggle.

  Mom would have liked a quiet kid,

  who never gets in trouble.

  I’m noisy, goofy, colorful,

  and I’m okay with that.

  Still, my mother seems to think

  her daughter is a brat.

  October 9

  MR. WHITE TANKA POEM

  Newt Mathews

  I have Asperger’s.

  My aide is Mr. Ron White.

  He says I am smart.

  He helps me write down poems.

  It is hard to describe things.

  October 10

  OBSTACLE COURSE

  Rachel Chieko Stein

  The best thing we do all year in P.E.

  is the obstacle course.

  I love climbing on the gym bars

  that curve like a rainbow.

  I can do it, no hands.

  At home, we have lots of equipment

  for my brother Alex.

  He’s in middle school,

  but he doesn’t go next door

  to Montgomery Middle.

  Alex uses a wheelchair

  and a scooter to get around,

  so every place we go

  is an obstacle course.

  We’re hoping he gets strong enough

  to walk by himself,

  just with crutches.

  Some kids with disabilities

  go to our school,

  but not Alex.

  Maybe if they close Emerson

  and Montgomery Middle,

  Alex and I will be able to go

  to the same school,

  and Alex could be in PE

  with so-called normal kids

  and be better than all of them

  at the obstacle course.

  October 13

  ESPAÑOL

  Mark Fernandez

  When your last name

  is Fernandez

  everyone thinks

  you’re automatically

  fluent in Spanish.

  My dad was always telling me

  and my older sisters

  ¡habla español!

  And we’d say, Papi, no way.

  They’ll stick us

  in some kind of ESL class.

  So I’m helping Gaby

  rewrite her poems in English.

  We both need the practice

  and I like having someone

  to speak Spanish with.

  I miss the sound

  now my dad’s not around.

  October 14

  MY SONG

  Tyler La Roche

  New kid, new kid,

  what’s your name?

  Are you cool

  or are you lame?

  Wild as a bear

  or calm and tame?

  New kid, new kid, new kid.

  Big guy, sky high,

  where you from?

  Mansion, farm,

  or city slum?

  Are you smart

  or are you dumb?

  New kid, new kid, new kid.

  Red head, white bread,

  Why are you here?

  Your lunch smells funny

  and your accent’s weird.

  How about you

  disappear?

  New kid, new kid, new kid.

  October 15

  CAMPAIGN MANAGER

  Shoshanna Berg

  Draw her posters.

  Write her speech.

  Give her my skirt to wear.

  Buy a new

  red, white, and blue

  headband for her hair.

  At recess

  I find every girl,

  go up to them and say,

  “You better vote

  for Hannah Wiles

  when it’s Election Day.”

  I know that she

  won’t do a thing

  to help our school survive.

  She sees herself

  as the queen bee,

  and I’m part of her hive.

  When Hannah wins

  class president

  I’ll finally be free.

  If she is boss

  of our whole grade

  she won’t be bossing me.

  October 16

  ELECTION DAY

  Rajesh Rao

  The teacher asks me to be

  an impartial judge on Election Day.

  She also asks me to clean the board,

  log in the class computers,

  help Newt find his pencils,

  sit by kids who get in trouble,

  be the Captain of Patrols.

  She says I’m a good influence.

  She calls me “responsible.”

  Maybe I should have run.

  Instead I’m counting votes

  for Hannah and George.

  Don’t worry.

  I’m too responsible to tell anyone

  when the kids on George’s

  Save Our School ticket

  win by a landslide.

  October 20

  MY WAY

  Hannah Wiles

  Shoshanna says

  I always

  have to get my way.

  That is so not true.

  If I always got my way

  I would have won

  the class election.

  If I always got my way

  I would’ve been picked

  for safety pat
rols

  instead of Rachel Stein.

  If I always got my way

  my parents would still

  be married, I wouldn’t

  have a stepmother and

  two annoying half brothers.

  If I always got my way

  I wouldn’t have to go

  live with my father

  for the rest

  of the school year.

  If Shoshanna

  weren’t so mad at me

  I’d tell her,

  if I always got my way

  my mother wouldn’t be

  deploying.

  October 21

  FIELD TRIP

  Edgar Lee Jones

  Why did my mom sign up to chaperone?

  I’ll have to answer questions like “Who’s she?”

  “Your mom is white?” Well, should I be a clone

  with her light hair and skin, not brown like me?

  I’ll slide down in my seat and read a book,

  so kids won’t stare at us the whole bus ride.

  I hate when they’re pretending not to look.

  My mom is cool. Why should I have to hide?

  So what if I am black and also white?

  Who cares that I don’t look just like my mom?

  My family is different, but we’re tight.

  Get over it, because there’s nothing wrong.

  If someone gets up in my face today,

  at least that’s what I think I’m going to say.

  October 22

  NEWS AT THE NEWSEUM

  Sloane Costley

  So my mother,

  who chaperones

  EVERYTHING,

  had to come

  to the Newseum.

  And the one thing

  she wanted me

  (and Sydney, Tyler,

  Mark, and Gaby)

  to see was photos

  from some famous

  Women’s Liberty March

  in Washington, DC.

  Because my crazy

  hippie grandmother

  was there,

  doing embarrassing

  inappropriate stuff

  like lighting fire

  to her underwear.

  And I’m looking close,

  trying to spot Nana,

  when Tyler says, “Hey!”

  And he points to a face

  in a photograph.

  There is a girl

  in a paisley scarf,

  turning around to scream

  at the policeman

  handcuffing her.

  And Tyler says,

  “It looks a lot like

  that old picture

  of Ms. Hill.”

  October 23

  GETTING THE MESSAGE

  Rachel Chieko Stein

  Sloane took a picture.

  She sent the picture to Hannah

  with a text: Is this Ms. Hill?

  Hannah sent it to Shoshanna,

  who forwarded it to Jason,

  who showed it to Edgar and Raj.

  Soon our whole class was crowded

  in front of a single photograph

  at the Newseum. We’ve all seen

  the picture on Ms. Hill’s desk.

  It must have been taken the same day,

  when she marched for women’s rights

  in Washington, DC.

  Ms. Hill is always telling us

  to make our voices heard.

  We are starting to get the message.

  October 24

  SPEAKING MY MIND

  Rennie Rawlins

  Dear Ms. Hill,

  The whole class is talking

  about the picture on your desk

  where you’re standing on the steps

  of Capitol Hill.

  The whole class is saying

  you were really brave,

  speaking your mind

  to the government.

  But the whole class is saying

  we’re just fifth graders.

  Who’s going to listen to us?

  I say, yes, we are fifth graders.

  We should stand up

  for the younger kids at this school,

  like my sister Phoenix.

  I promised her I’d do whatever it takes

  so she could stay at Emerson next year

  and I’d be right next door

  at Montgomery Middle.

  Maybe it’s true,

  a bunch of fifth graders

  have no say about what happens

  to our school, but

  in fifth grade we’re supposed to be

  studying democracy

  and constitutional rights,

  right?

  Well, I already know

  the First Amendment

  is the right to free speech.

  Your student,

  Rennie

  October 27

  SOS

  George Furst

  Ms. Hill,

  we won’t tell anyone

  you got arrested.

  It was a long time ago,

  and Rennie, Norah, and I know

  it’s okay to get locked up

  for something

  you believe in,

  like civil rights.

  Ms. Hill,

  I promised to

  Save Our School

  if I got to be

  student council president,

  but I don’t know how.

  My dad hasn’t been

  around much lately,

  and my mom’s busy,

  so I can’t ask them for ideas.

  And since you

  marched in Washington,

  even though it was

  a long time ago,

  we were hoping, Rennie

  and Norah and me,

  your fifth-grade student council,

  that you could teach us

  how to tell the Board of Ed

  we want to keep Emerson.

  Ms. Hill,

  a long time ago

  you wanted the people in charge

  to hear your ideas.

  That’s what we want

  now.

  October 28

  HIJAB

  Norah Hassan

  On my birthday, there was a package

  at our front door, covered in colorful stamps!

  My cousin Amina sent it from Paris,

  where she goes to college.

  Inside was a head scarf, blue as a clear sky

  woven with golden threads.

  I wrapped the scarf around my face,

  the way my mother does

  when she puts on her hijab before work.

  My older sister, whose clothes come

  from Abercrombie & Fitch, said,

  “You’re not going to WEAR it. Like, outside?”

  My cousin’s letter said

  there are laws in France forbidding girls

  to wear a hijab at school.

  This morning, when I put the hijab on,

  I thought of you, Ms. Hill.

  Even though you can’t help us protest

  to save Emerson, I want to say

  thank you for marching for our rights

  all those years ago. Including my right

  to wear a head scarf at school.

  Did you know then that you

  would grow up to be a teacher?

  When I put the hijab on

  I float inside my scarf’s blue cloth,

  the golden threads shimmer

  like sunshine on water.

  October 29

  IS IT TRUE?

  Rennie Rawlins

  Is it true

  the Board of Ed wants to turn our school

  into a supermarket?

  That’s what my mom heard

  at Mrs. Stiffler’s community meeting

  last night.

  Shelves of cereal

  and toilet paper

  inst
ead of shelves of books.

  Bored cashiers at the checkout

  instead of the school media specialist

  saying, “I’ve got a great book for you!”

  Trucks filled

  with tomatoes and broccoli

  instead of buses filled with children.

  I told George and Norah

  it’s time. The student council

  needs to come up with a plan.

  We can’t let a bunch of vegetables

  get in the way

  of saving our school.

  October 30

  I HATE HALLOWEEN

  Hannah Wiles

  I wish I had a long black dress,

  a bright green wig, and spider rings.

  I wish I had a witch’s broom

  and other evil things.

  I can’t wear a tall black hat.

  I’d be grounded for a week!

  Our pastor says good kids do not

  like to trick-or-treat, so

  I don’t draw pumpkins with a grin

  or help my friends put makeup on.

  The school parades, but I stay in.

  I’m done with Halloween.

  October 31

  COSTUME: A RAP POEM FOR MS. HILL

  Tyler La Roche

  Our teacher’s all dressed up

  as this Emerson dude

  who wrote about nature

  and the things that he viewed.

  He was walking in the sunshine.

  He was swimming in the sea.

  He was drinking up fresh air

  and writing poetry.

  Ralph Waldo was a poet.

  Never heard of him before,

  but his name’s right there

  on our school’s front door.

  November 5

  ONE SEAT, TWO SEATS, WE HAVE NEW SEATS

  Jason “Seuss” Chen

  One seat, two seats, we have new seats.

  Black seats, blue seats, missing-screw seats.

  Some kids are glad and some are sad.

  You sit by Teacher. Were you bad?

  The teacher moved our chairs, but why?

  I don’t know. Go ask a fly!

  Some seats are comfy, some are hard.

  I wish my seat were in the yard.

  Oh me! Oh my! I want to cry!

  I’m still by Katie. That’s no lie.