The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary Read online

  They didn’t take their naps.

  That’s how come

  I wrote this extra poem.

  Because I spent a lot of time

  alone in my room. I finally get why

  people want to save Emerson.

  Losing our school is like

  losing home, the place

  where everyone understands you.

  When my dad came upstairs

  to get me for dinner, he said sorry

  for what the boys did. He said

  he’d buy me more chocolate.

  But it won’t be the same because

  they won’t be my mom’s

  hugs and kisses,

  and this will never feel like home.

  February 18

  CALLED DOWN

  George Furst

  I had it all planned,

  how I’d call my dad

  and tell him Mrs. Stiffler

  was sending our petition

  to the Board of Education

  and how Dad gave me the idea!

  Then I’d ask him to come home

  and help me write my speech

  to the Board and the superintendent

  of schools.

  But that’s not what happened.

  Mrs. Stiffler called us down today.

  She told Rennie, Norah,

  Edgar, and me how proud she was

  of our initiative. But she sighed

  and said there is nothing

  one principal and a group of fifth graders

  can do to change the mind

  of the mighty, all-powerful

  Board of Education.

  I faked it, acted like I was okay.

  Don’t worry, I told Rennie,

  Norah, and Edgar in the hall.

  We’ll think of something.

  We’ve been working all year

  to save our school.

  I can’t let my friends

  think it’s over.

  I can’t tell my dad

  our petition failed.

  February 19

  IN THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE

  Rennie Rawlins

  Tip tap tip tap, the secretary’s fingers

  sound like rain on her keyboard.

  We walk to Mrs. Stiffler’s office,

  me, George, Edgar, and Norah.

  Boom baboom goes my heart,

  heavy as a thunderstorm.

  “What’s this about?” Mrs. Stiffler sniffs.

  Her nose is turning purple,

  but her voice stays calm.

  She slides our petition across her desk.

  My voice shakes worse than a scared rabbit

  when I tell her our class

  is learning U.S. history

  and part of that history

  is standing up for our rights.

  Mrs. Stiffler’s office is quiet as a cloud,

  but when she says no,

  she won’t send our petition to the Board,

  it’s a lightning bolt. The skies darken.

  The downpour begins.

  Edgar, Norah, and I shuffle down the hall.

  No one wants to hear George’s pep talk.

  The whole class rushes up

  when we walk in the door.

  Our stormy faces give us away.

  Ms. Hill says she’s sorry.

  The girls hug me. The boys say,

  “Hey, you tried,” but all I can think is…

  what am I going to tell Phoenix?

  February 20

  BAD NEWS

  Edgar Lee Jones

  The bad news is, our petition failed.

  The Board won’t ever know

  some fifth graders wanted to save Emerson.

  The worse news is

  my grandpa is still in the hospital.

  Sometimes he doesn’t

  recognize me.

  I wish I could write a petition

  to the doctors, or to God,

  to make him better.

  I wish I could talk to Grandpa

  about the bad news.

  February 23

  JAPANESE PAINTING

  Rachel Chieko Stein

  I love sweeping the soft hairs of the brush across my palm.

  I love rolling the brush in ink and water.

  I love watching our art teacher’s hands, teaching us to hold the brush right.

  I love how Mr. Musay calls the hand position Tiger Mouth.

  I love the dragonfly appearing on my paper.

  I hate hearing from the next table, “Duh, of course she’s good at Japanese painting.”

  I hate the hard words Sloane says, pretending to be nice. “I love your painting, Rachel.”

  I hate when she bumps my elbow and spills my ink.

  I hate how she acts as if she’s sorry.

  I love how Mr. Musay swirls the ink blot into a water lily.

  I love how he shows my painting to the whole class.

  February 24

  TISSUES

  Sydney Costley

  I have never seen

  Rachel cry

  before today.

  I have seen her trip

  over a jump rope

  and skin her knee

  on the blacktop

  and say, “I’m fine.”

  I have seen her

  not getting picked

  for a part in the play

  and pretend

  to shrug it off.

  But before today

  I never saw

  anyone

  make her cry.

  Good thing

  I was there

  to hand her tissues

  under our desks.

  She squeezed my hand.

  Then she smiled

  a little, back to being

  my Rachel.

  February 25

  REMEMBER

  Hannah Wiles

  For S.B.

  Remember second grade?

  Our class had a stuffed dog

  named Spike.

  Everyone took turns

  bringing Spike home.

  We wrote down

  all the things Spike did

  in a blue notebook.

  When my turn was over,

  Spike went home with you

  for the whole weekend.

  I was so sad!

  I didn’t want to give up Spike.

  I was crying in the book closet

  when you came in

  and asked me what was wrong.

  You rubbed my back

  and said, “Don’t be sad, Hannah.”

  And you asked your mom

  if I could sleep over

  so I could spend one more day

  with Spike. Before that day,

  I’d never really noticed you.

  Afterward, I thought we’d stay

  best friends forever.

  February 26

  FOUR SQUARE

  Shoshanna Berg

  1) At the beginning of fifth grade

  we played Four Square at recess every day.

  Hannah was always QUEEN,

  bouncing the ball and hitting it to me.

  I stood in the PRINCESS square

  just like in school, next to Hannah

  because we were best friends.

  I bounced and hit the ball

  to Sloane, who always played MAID.

  2) Hannah is like a rubber ball,

  bouncing from one girl to the next.

  Gentle one minute, then hitting hard

  at Brianna in the DUNGEON.

  Hannah always made Brianna miss

  so she’d stay in the last spot.

  Then one day Hannah hit the ball hard at me.

  I missed. I had to stand in the dungeon.

  I was so mad.

  3) So I quit the game. For a week,

  I stayed inside at recess, helping Ms. Hill.

  But fifth grade is a lot like Four Square.

 
If you wait long enough

  you move through the squares,

  even when it feels like

  you’ll be in the dungeon forever.

  Now I play with Norah,

  Rennie, and Rachel.

  4) We make up funny stuff.

  “Lunch Tray” Four Square

  is Baby Carrots, Applesauce,

  Sloppy Joes, and Chocolate Milk.

  No one feels bad about

  being in the Chocolate Milk square.

  I’m back in the game.

  Four Square is fun

  when no one’s in the dungeon.

  February 27

  GIRL TALK

  Sydney Costley

  I asked my mother why

  all the fifth-grade girls

  had to stay in Ms. Hill’s room

  while the boys in our class

  went to Mr. Musay’s art room

  to talk about bodies and stuff,

  because that’s really private.

  My mom said some parents

  don’t talk to their kids

  about that kind of thing, so

  everyone has to learn it at school.

  She said she would always

  answer my questions

  and I should never

  feel ashamed.

  I don’t even know

  what my questions are.

  But I know

  I’m not like the girls

  who crack up every time

  Ms. Hill says “puberty.”

  I wasn’t the one

  who started throwing

  samples of feminine products

  across the room.

  It looked like a snowball fight.

  A dozen maxi pads

  flying over our heads.

  March 2

  DISGUSTING DISCUSSION

  Jason Chen

  I’d rather dissect owl pellets,

  bird vomit filled with bones.

  I’d rather Mrs. Stiffler

  called my mother on the phone.

  I’d rather hit my head in gym

  so I’d get a concussion.

  Anything to get me out

  of this Disgusting Discussion.

  March 3

  ODE TO RECESS

  Ben Kidwell

  Twenty minutes of air.

  Twenty minutes of dirt.

  Twenty minutes of sky.

  Twenty minutes to play.

  Twenty minutes without any pink notes asking which girl I like.

  Twenty minutes with no chairs, no pencils, no tests with round bubbles to fill in.

  Twenty minutes till the recess monitor blows her whistle.

  Twenty minutes of wondering whether the tall trees behind our school will get cut down in June.

  Twenty minutes outside.

  Twenty minutes of almost-freedom.

  March 4

  SHOW-AND-TELL

  Rajesh Rao

  I brought a jar of tadpoles.

  I caught them in the pond

  behind my house.

  They are moving,

  wriggling black dots

  in the water.

  Half the girls said, “Ew!”

  but Newt kept staring

  at the tadpoles.

  He asked me to be partners

  for the science fair.

  It’s better than working alone.

  Every Saturday, I grab my net,

  run outside, meet Newt

  at the frog pond.

  We catch tadpoles,

  take pictures to record

  how much they’ve changed.

  Every week, their tails are shorter,

  stumps on their sides

  transform into legs.

  Every Saturday,

  I say Wow. Who knew

  Newt was so much fun?

  March 5

  CARDINAL WATCH

  Norah Hassan

  This winter was so gray

  until I saw a flash of red

  in the trees behind our apartment building—

  a cardinal. Spring is near.

  I put birdseed on my windowsill.

  One morning when I woke up

  he was there. So close!

  My father said if I left more seeds

  the cardinal would bring his wife.

  She has dull feathers but a pretty beak.

  It’s almost pink. I drew pictures of them

  in my science project journal.

  My father says they are building a nest

  in the woods between our apartment building

  and Emerson’s soccer field.

  They use twigs, leaves, grass, and hair.

  Each night, I take a few strands of hair

  from my brush and leave them with the seeds.

  My sister thinks this is disgusting,

  but I think my hair will make the nest as strong

  as a hudhud’s nest in Jaddi’s lemon tree.

  The mother cardinal will weave my hair

  into her little bowl of twigs

  to keep the eggs protected from wind.

  I hope the nest stays safe all spring,

  even if the builders clear some trees

  to make space for the new supermarket.

  March 6

  HUNTING FROGS WITH RAJ

  Newt Mathews

  I see a pond in my neighborhood.

  I hear northern spring peepers

  calling to female frogs.

  Whoosh! Raj’s net splashes into water.

  I feel something slimy in the net.

  A tan frog squirms in my palm.

  Hyla crucifer is the scientific name

  for the frogs we are tracking.

  They are the size of my thumbnail.

  They are louder than my baby sister.

  Raj is my science partner now.

  I taste the juice my mom packed for us.

  I smell the buttered popcorn

  Raj brought to share. Crunch!

  March 9

  HAMMY POWER!

  Jason Chen

  My hamster’s name is Refried Beans.

  He poops a lot when he eats greens.

  His favorite things are his hamster wheel,

  carrots, nuts, and an apple peel.

  How much energy does he cause

  running fast on tiny paws?

  Dad hooked the wheel to an amp meter.

  I took readings, ’cause I’m no cheater.

  I spent three hours on calculations,

  wrote the report, and took notations.

  Even if he runs all night,

  one hamster can’t turn on a light.

  And it would take a trillion hammies

  to fuel a car down to Miami.

  I like doing science at school.

  (Katie said my project was cool.)

  March 10

  WHY?

  Katie McCain

  Why does he loan me his favorite books?

  Why does he give me those puppy-dog looks?

  Why won’t he pass me when we run the mile?

  Why does he have such a sweet, goofy smile?

  Why does he like me? I can’t work it out.

  I’m crazy. I’m messy. I’m weird and I shout.

  My toenails are silver. I dyed my hair blue.

  I wrote “Hamster Hater” on top of my shoe.

  Was it something I said? What could it be?

  Out of all the fifth graders, why does he like me?

  March 11

  RAINY DAY POEM

  Ben Kidwell

  drip drip drip

  Teacher. Hey, Teacher!

  drip drip tap

  Roof’s leaking again.

  drip tap tap

  My desk needs a bucket

  tap tap tap

  whenever it rains.

  tap tap splash

  The rain is a drummer.

  tap splash splash

  It beats out a tune

  splash splas
h splash

  that gets louder and louder

  splash splash flash

  and ends with

  kaBOOM!

  March 12

  THE FIELD

  Rajesh Rao

  Yesterday at recess,

  Ben said

  he wanted to show me

  and Newt something

  on the soccer field.

  It was a tire mark

  with treads deep enough

  to hold a puddle.

  In the water, we saw

  squirming tadpoles.

  Newt and I held some

  cupped in our hands.

  How will the tadpoles

  grow into frogs

  if this field

  is a parking lot?

  March 13

  TURTLE

  Edgar Lee Jones

  Made from walnut shell

  Green felt for feet, head, tail

  Sitting in my hand

  I put it on the table

  By his bed

  March 16

  RIGHT NOW

  George Furst

  Right now

  in Ms. Hill’s fifth grade,

  eighteen students

  are quietly

  writing poems.

  Right now

  members of

  the Board of Education

  are touring

  Emerson Elementary.

  They’re getting closer

  to our classroom.

  This morning

  someone covered

  the fifth-grade hall

  with posters.

  Right now,

  everywhere I look,

  I see three small words,

  Save Our School.

  Three big letters,

  SOS.

  Right now,

  I’m wondering…

  will Mrs. Stiffler

  be proud

  of our initiative?

  March 17

  NO ONE KNOWS

  Rennie Rawlins

  No one knows

  who put up all those posters before school this morning.

  No one knows

  who had a poster party at their house last night.

  No one knows