By Nayo Polk
Teacher: Barbara Wenger, Jefferson School
Award: Honorable Mention-Fourth Grade Essay

My sister taught me how to draw a cat. First, she taught me how to draw the head. Second, she taught me how to curve down and do the tail. Third, she taught me how to curve down and do the legs. Last, she taught me how to curve back up to the head.

First, she taught me how to draw the head. You draw the head by just doing the ears with the line between them. Then you curve down and back up to the tail.

Second, she taught me how to curve down to the tail. To do the tail you have to do a circle just don’t finish it.

Third, she taught me how to curve back down and do the legs. Then you go down to the legs and feet. Once you go across a little then up, then across, then back down, then across again.

Last, she taught me how to curve back to the head. She taught me how to do that by putting her hand on my hand and moving my hand back to the cat head.

In conclusion, my sister taught me how to draw a cat. I like that because she hardly is ever that nice to me. I really love my sister.

By Diego Medina
Teacher: Barbara Wenger, Jefferson School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fourth Grade Poetry

I hear my grandpa
Gabriel,
likes to time travel in the past grab a story,
then come back
and show it.

I hear my grandpa
loved to sing
as if it were breathing.

I hear my grandpa
loved forests
as if they were treasure lands.

I hear my grandpa
loved the stars
as if they were magnets
and his eyes were metal.

I saw photos of my family with him
I wish I could just get inside the photo
and see him in life.

By Ariel Skolnick
Rosa Parks School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fourth Grade Art

By Anna Keaveny
Teacher: Sean Keller, Jefferson School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fourth Grade Essay

Last summer, during a rock climbing camp, I felt nervous. I had never gone rock climbing before. I really wanted to do well in the camp. To me, the rock walls put up in the gym looked huge. I really needed some encouragement, and got just the right amount of it when the instructor gave us a talk before we got started.

“This may be a first experience for some of you guys,” she told me and the other kids there. “Don’t feel the need to do all of the walls. When I first started rock climbing, it was out of my comfort zone.” As she said this, she placed a small hula hoop on the floor and stepped into it. “This hula hoop represents my comfort zone. My regular, totally, comfortable zone. It’s the place where I’d put stuff like brushing my teeth, or going to bed.” She placed another hula hoop on the ground. It was slightly bigger than the first, and she placed it around the smaller one.

“This is the step that some of you will be taking. This hula hoop represents my trying new things zone. Maybe for me there would be some things like playing the violin. I have never actually played a violin, so I’m not totally comfortable with doing that.”

A new hula hoop went up. It was biggest, so it went around both hoops. “This hoop represents my totally crazy zone. Things like skydiving, or swimming in an area that is infested with sharks, would go here. Things I would never think of doing.” She paused and smiles at us. “Now, who thinks that they’re ready to try some rock climbing?” she asked.

“I am!” and “Me!” were the replies. I was really nervous. When I started climbing up one of the easy walls, I felt more comfortable about myself.
I was going pretty smooth, and after a few tries, I almost got to the top. We only had a few more minutes until we had lunch, so I set a goal to get to the top before we had to take a break. On my next try, I made it! My older brother, who was taking the camp with me, was at the top of the wall, and I wanted to impress him. As I tried to clamber over the wall, that was when I really started getting nervous. To help calm myself, I repeated the instructor’s words in my head. Luckily, my brother was still at the top, so he helped me over. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone to help you out.

After camp had ended, I felt more confident than ever. I had reached my goal. I had taken a new step. A step out of my comfort zone.

By Saskia Knight Leichliter
Teacher: Barbara Wenger, Jefferson School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fourth Grade Poetry

The Colorful
Pots Of
Ink…
The Pictures
Of Travels…
The Altar
To The
Greek Goddess
Hebe…
Having Snack with Him.
Three Gingersnap Cookies And
A Glass Of Grape Juice

By Nico Orgain
Jefferson School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fourth Grade Art

By Nadia Elbgal
Teacher: Olivia Sanders, John Muir School
Award: Third Place, Fourth Grade Essay

When I was younger, I lived in a house next to a girl named Mckenna. We walked our dogs with our parents. One day a boy next door started to talk to us. When we all became friends, we started hanging out everyday. One time Mckenna didn’t come to play, and neither did my friend A.J.! I went to my sandbox and suddenly A.J. made a perfect jump and landed in my sandbox!

“I knew you would come!” I said. We played until I asked, “Where’s Mckenna?” I asked A.J.

“Doesn’t like me anymore. She thinks I took you away from her,” he answered.

“I’ll go talk to her.”

I went to Mckenna’s house. I talked to her about how she should come play and if she’s jealous, she shouldn’t be, because no one could replace her. I reminded her that we were friends longer than A.J. and I were friends, so she has nothing to worry about. We hugged and everyday after that we played together, with A.J. there.

Soon after I moved away and went to John Muir School. I made so many new friends, I almost forgot about Mckenna! I told my mom. She made me feel better. I knew that the memory of Mckenna was still inside of me, somewhere in my heart. My mom said that, “Even though friends may come and go, family is forever. And Mckenna counts as family.”

I miss Mckenna, but I have many great friends as well. Should I be doing this? Should I replace the old with new? Mckenna may have been my best friend, but if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t know what true friendship was. My new friends have kept Mckenna’s memory strong, but gave me some new memories too.

By Zoe Tseng
Teacher: Barbara Wenger, Jefferson School
Award: Third Place, Fourth Grade Poetry

By Leila Mirza
Jefferson School
Award: Third Place, Fourth Grade Art

By Fiona Goldman
Teacher: Barbara Wenger, Jefferson School
Award: Second Place, Fourth Grade Essay

Even if something bad happens to you, it doesn’t mean that you are defeated. My grandma had a liver transplant, and that doesn’t stop her from doing the things that she loves to do.

My grandma was in the hospital for over a month, and she had a lot of tests and medicine. The tests were to find out what was wrong with her liver. Her insides were attacking her liver. The disease is called “Autoimmune Hepatitis”. It is Latin for liver disease. She needed to have a liver transplant because her liver broke down and she turned yellow. Having a liver transplant means that they take out your liver and put in a new one. Her liver came from a dead person.

My family was very worried. My mom went to the hospital almost every day. My grandpa was very worried, too. He was almost always with my grandma. My grandma was unconscious most of the time she was in the hospital.

When my grandma finally got out of the hospital, she had to take medicine and she still has to take many pills every day. They make her shaky. She is not allowed to eat some things. She takes all this medicine so that the same thing doesn’t happen to her new liver, and so that her body gets used to her liver.

My grandma still does almost everything that she used to do before she had the liver transplant. She could not do many things right after the transplant, though. This year, she got a lot stronger. This teaches me that even if your body isn’t strong, you can still try to do what you like to do if your mind is strong.

By Anna Keaveny
Teacher: Sean Keller, Jefferson School
Award: Second Place, Fourth Grade Poetry

On the wall
Tall, and covered in rocks
Feelings all jumbled, but there
Happy
Fun
Crazy
Nervous
The top, almost there
Looking at something huge, yet feeling tiny
Gripping, climbing
Pushing up
Going up
Going higher
Clutching a rock
Pushing up with a foot
Clutching another
Pushing up again
Then, there !
Scared, yet excited
Clambering
Frightened
So high up!
Below, everything so tiny
Then help
A calm hand reaching down
Over the wall! Accomplished!
No longer scared, feeling instead, powerful!

By Lola Labang
Jefferson School
Award: Second Place, Fourth Grade Art

By Natnael Worku
Teacher: Olivia Sanders, John Muir School
Award: First Place, Fourth Grade Essay

I woke up to the smell of bean stew. The sun poured through the beautiful sand-made plexiglass. Suddenly, I just knew this was going to be an amazing day. I had only been in Ethiopia for a few weeks and they were pretty good. I came out the door of my personal quiet safe space and shouted, “Good morning everybody!” Nahom and Phoeben were not early birds at all. Usually I wasn’t either but I had a good feeling about this day, yet I didn’t know what it meant. Suddenly I looked up and saw my uncle standing up with a knife. My face dropped in astonishment.

“What’s that for?” I asked in horror! My uncle looked at me and grinned. I came outside to the driveway and saw my dad holding a poor defenseless sheep to the concrete and saw my uncle with the knife again. I immediately knew what the knife was for. He was going to kill the sheep. I saw him starting with the legs. “Bahhhhhhhhh!” the sheep shouted.

I ran all the way back to my room without looking back. I calmed myself down and just like that I was relaxed and felt that I could do anything. When I walked out of my room, I smelled this beautiful vanilla scent coming from the kitchen. Then we all went to dinner at the huge brown dining table. Nahom and Phoeben were so hungry; their mouths were watering like crazy! We blessed our food and ate.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the killing scene today, but I let it go. After that mouthwatering meal, my tummy was steaming hot for bed. I closed my eyes, forgot about the murder, and went to sleep faster than you can say pizza.

By Leila Mirza
Teacher: Sean Keller, Jefferson School
Award: First Place, Fourth Grade Poetry

Just two hours
Feels like forever
Wondering what Nonna is doing
Soon passing the familiar tow bridge
Almost there
Turning onto Niagara Street
Wearing Santa hats
Approaching the turquoise house
Sprinting to the door
Super anxious
But more excited
I knock and wait
I hear footsteps
I know that it is Nonna
The door opens
Nonna comes out
She is smiling
Greetings

By Anya Draves
Malcolm X School
Award: First Place, Fourth Grade Art

By Alberto Perez
Teacher: Gloria Munoz-Hughes, Thousand Oaks School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fifth Grade Essay

One night I was at my Uncle’s house and I was going into his room and I tripped on one of his shoes he sloppily left on the ground like I would. Then, I cracked my chin open, and I started to cry and blood was all over the place.

My cousin carried me downstairs, and after my cousin carried me down, I thought I would never see the light of day.Then they rushed me to the Emergency Room and I went into the Doctor’s office and said, “Is it going to hurt me a lot when you do what you have to do?

And after I asked the question, he said, “Stitches or glue?” and I said, “Glue.” Then he put superglue on my chin and it burned so bad I thought a little piece of the sun was on my chin.Then after a while it stopped burning.

The moral of this awful moment, that literally scared me for life, is “always watch where you step”.

By Yvette Cardenas
Teacher: Yessica Rodriguez, Rosa Parks School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fifth Grade Poetry

I am one of the marching kids.
I wonder when this will end.
I hear screams and calm singing voices.
I see water hoses and angry dogs.
I want freedom.

I am one of the marching kids.
I pretend to not be scared.
I feel pain.
I touch my wounds.
I worry about my family.
I cry in jail for my mom.

I am one of the marching kids.
I understand that we can’t just get rid of this.
I say I have a dream, just like Martin Luther King.
I dream that one day we will be free.
I try to have more hope.
I hope to end this

I am one of the marching kids.

By Avery Nudel
Thousand Oaks School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fifth Grade Art

By Jesse Kane
Teacher: Bob Garrison, Thousand Oaks School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fifth Grade Essay

“The coast is clear,” I said to my brother as I peaked through the screen door of my front porch. We tiptoed out and down the steps towards the sidewalk.

The instant I stepped outside I could feel the cold air on my bare legs. I was so cold I could feel goose bumps form on my arms. I wished I had more clothes on than my boxers.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” my brother yelled as we dashed up the street with our underwear flapping in the wind. “Honk! Honk! I could hear the loud honk of a car horn. I looked over to see what it was. I saw the people in the car waving at me. I could feel my cheeks burning up. I decided to be polite and wave back to them. “Looks like we got some fans, bro!”

“Yeah! Good thing I’m wearing my favorite underwear!” he said smiling from ear to ear. When we finally got to the end of the street we tagged the pole. I could feel the tingly coldness from the pole spread through my fingertips and down my spine.

I turned and ran in the opposite direction towards my house when I saw my worst fear; it was a family of four coming straight towards me! “Good, I don’t think they have noticed me yet,” I thought to myself. Just then a light bulb went off in my head, “maybe if I run as fast as I can they won’t even notice me pass by.” I figured that was the best idea because I didn’t want some random person seeing me in my underwear. I started to run faster and faster. I whirled past the family looking back to see if they noticed me when I realized I had passed right by my house. I turned around and walked back to my house where my brother was waiting for me on the steps. We put our arms around each other and walked back into the house.

I learned that doing something outrageous can be very fun!

By Caitlin Brown
Teacher: Carolyn Dobson, Cragmont School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fifth Grade Poetry

When I look into my dad’s closet,
I see a memory
Of him setting off to New Jersey,
me being happy and excited.
No dad to say goodnight, no dad to
turn off my night light.
Only in my head I saw him,
and he couldn’t see me flip my first pancake.
A whole year passed until I saw him again,
dressed in camouflage.
I hugged him and in my head,
I never let go.

By Eliza Fasket-Hydes
Cragmont School
Award: Honorable Mention, Fifth Grade Art