THE PARK SCHOOL

ANTHOLOGY 2013

Faculty Editors: Maria Alvarez and Andrea Sparks

Special thanks to: Kate LaPine, Lyn Williams, Kathy Come, and the Technology Department

cover artwork:Park SchoolcollageSarah Buta ’14 andFiona Duckworth ’14Grade VIII

Many whose writings and drawings appear here will be surprised to see themselves in print. Still others who have nothing in this anthology will be disappointed. Only a part of what I received could be included, and I regret I had to exclude so much. To select short stories, poems, and drawings for an anthology spanning writers who range in age from three to fifteen is not easy. By the selections which appear here I have tried to reach for both diversity and excellence.

John Shaw Founding Editor Park School Anthology 1966

Chapter One Reading

School is so fun. Every morning in school we do morning work. Then we go on the rug and do morning meeting and read a book. Then we look in our book bins, and we read. There are so many colored dots, and you can rotate. When you rotate, Ms. Lloyd gives you a dot, and you pick books.

Taya Puner ’21Grade I

Snowy OwlmarkerMina Subramanian ’21Grade I

Oak Tree

There is an oak treeoutside this doorNot just plain old brownIt’s a gown of golden brownSometimes a splash of greenbut mostly goldIt looks me in the eye its hands reach upto the sky embroidereda brilliant brownI race to get there in the middle of nowhereoak tree

Priya Devavaram ’18 Grade IV

AmphoramarkerMatthew Klosek ’18Grade IV

1

The 2013 edition of the Park School Anthology is dedicated to David Lawton

The Park School community has benefited from Mr. Lawton’s buoyant presence among us for almost four decades. Adventurous in mind, body, and spirit, Mr. Lawton delights in learning, and his curiosity and joie de vivre are contagious. An accomplished musician and educator, his kind and gentle guidance has inspired generations of children, parents, and fellow teachers. Whether engaged in accompanying a performance on the piano or leading piping students through the halls, Mr. Lawton visibly embraces the qualities that the Anthology seeks to display: a deep love of the arts and a steadfast commitment to the art of learning. He truly exemplifies the classical Greek ideals that he instills in his fourth grade charges. And so, with great admiration, we dedicate this year’s edition of the Anthology to David Lawton.

PaintingtemperaKaori Sakurai ’18Grade IV

Greek VasespencilDavid Rome ’18Grade IV

Haiku

MountainBeautiful mountainsbridge slicing through peaks, snow cappedlonely cars wander

WatchersVivid birds ... lonelyguarding their little babieswatching predators

Little Boat Brown dock, topped with snowboat abandoned, frosty lakewaits for bright sunshine

Caleb Mansbach ’17Grade V

2

Cherry Tree

The stars blinkedas she brought the blanket out into the yardwith the boy.They spread out under the wide nightand began to talk of meaningless things,counted falling stars that fell just beyond the cherry tree.The wind took their whispers to the moon,the moon that pitied the boy, the boy who had been laughed at by the starsthat fell just beyond the cherry tree.The boy told the girl that those stars had once fallen on him.The girl took his hand as theylay under the collapsing night.

Under the cherry tree there sat a young girl with herplastic toy horses.They kept her companyin the high noon heat.The barn and stables captivated the girland kept her from thinkingabout the slowly setting sun.The cherry tree shaded herfrom the expanding sky andthe sun’s reaching rays.As she played, her laughsFell just beyond the cherry tree.

Chloë LeStage ’13Grade IX

Have you ever had a day that was red, orange, and yellow? Well, I have, and I want you to hear all about it. There are leaves everywhere you look. There are reds, yellows, and oranges, and don’t forget the crispy copper leaves that crunch under your feet. The sun is twinkling. The birds are singing their morning tunes in the bright and sunny morning. I see the big oaks standing tall, and I look up and see some leaves hanging on brown tree branches. Others are gracefully floating down to the shocking green grass. As leaves fall, the green grass slowly disappears into what looks like a giant fall painting, and I say to myself, “It’s a beautiful fall day today.”

Half Facecolored pencilBrianna Silva ’14Grade VIII

Haiku Trees Trees swaying calling out In the wind they all tremble Shaking off leaves...rough

SunBright sun is settingSky grows dark and it falls blackTrees go to sweet sleep Fireworks Bright red sky, light up the air so crisp, clear, and blue ashes fall so hard

Jordyn Britton ’17Grade V

Fall Daydrawing and textPhoenyx Peltier ’19Grade III

3

Study of HandspencilClaudia Cortell ’18Grade IV

The First Time I Tried Lobster The first time that I tried lobster was in the year 2009, after my uncle’s wedding. It was at the Stowe Mountain Lodge in Stowe, Vermont. At the time, I didn’t know much about what would be for lunch, just that it was supposed to be really good. When I first saw it, I was very skeptical. The red and white food and yellowy melted butter did not look very appealing to me. The smell made me feel disgusting. It smelled like a dirty fisherman’s boat, and I didn’t want to get it all over my hands. Why do I have to wear this bib? So much for a delicious lunch, I thought. We should have spaghetti and meatballs! “Just try it,” my dad encouraged, “you’ll love it.” “Okay, okay,” was my only response. I had only one thought inside of my head; I had a feeling that this would be something that I wouldn’t forget for a long time. I just wasn’t sure whether it would be positive or not. Well, to make a long story short, it was. I finally, after thinking it through, pierced the small chunk of lobster with my fork, dunked it in the little cup of butter, and took a bite. It was so creamy and delicious. Now lobster is one of my favorite foods.

Jacob Barkan ’17Grade V

Mask Designcolored pencilMolly Potter ’16Grade VI

Basketwoven yarnTommy Hong ’20Grade II

Self PortraitcrayonYael Solomon ’23Pre-Kindergarten

4

Reflections on the Grade IX Trip to Italy

To get to Pestum, we took a drive along a scenic route. On this route, we were able to see the beautiful Amalfi Coast. It was somewhat unnerving to drive so high up and so close to the rail, but Churro was an excellent driver. We took a quick stop at a cliff, and the view was breathtaking. The ocean was a brilliant blue, which sparkled under the sunlight. We then got back on the bus and headed toward a small town called Amalfi. This town was on the shore, so we went down onto the sand and looked for sea glass. Many of us found pieces of sea glass as well as unique stones. Mikaela was determined to bring back a rock the size of her head, but we convinced her otherwise. After playing on the beach for a while, we took a picture in front of a fountain and got gelato before heading back to the bus and Pestum. When we arrived, we had lunch on the patio and then continued to the site. At Pestum there were three different major structures. They were all temples, which were still, for the most part, intact. We looked closely at the variations of the columns used to build the structures. We then each gave mini site reports as we walked around the site. Before getting back on the bus, Tori and I sighted a colony of snails, and we were able to get many snails to come out of their shells. After taking our final pictures, we went back to the bus and the hotel.

Sabrina Rabins ’13Grade IX

Crushing Season

The gush, rush, and goop that oozes through my toes.In time, the wine, the juice, will be madeBy hard working feetSquish it onceSquish it twiceSquish it thriceThe gush, rush and goopThe purple splashy, sploshy soupOf grapes…And grapes alone.The wine will be made.

Mu’izza Barnett ’15Grade VIIMisty Gray

Misty gray is a lonely feelingMisty gray is snuggling with my dadAfter a long, cold dayMisty gray is the feeling of tears on my faceAfter crying for a long timeMisty gray is swimmingMisty gray is saying to myself, “no”Misty gray is the smell of dewMisty gray is finishing a paintingMisty gray is playing on the beachMisty gray is watching the sunsetMisty gray is coldish warmish weatherMisty gray is fishing

Nicholas Seaver ’21Grade I

PaintingtemperaBen Emery ’18Grade IV

IslandclayGinny O’Marah ’20Grade II

5

Through the Window

When I look through the window of my classroom, I see many beautiful things. I’m surprised to notice all of the wonderful things in nature. The first thing I see when I look outside is the hillside in the distance. The trees cover the hillside, so I only get to take a small glimpse of it. It looks like a bunch of diamonds, sticking together like a pack of wild beasts, scared of crocodiles. I lift my head up until I see a tall spike jutting up like a tall spike of hair. Then I glance left and realize it is just a tree. Actually, it is a whole group of trees. The group of trees looks like a family competing over who’s the tallest and who’s the smallest. They are a bursting flame of green, red, orange, and yellow, standing straight yet crooked. I keep tilting my head left until I come upon a road. The cars race by, unaware of their beautiful surroundings, focusing only on the path ahead. The cars look like giant crabs migrating to a new home. The next thing I notice is the roof of the theater. All I can see is a bunch of rocks. The rocks are like pebbles in the ocean. They are rough like popping popcorn. To the left of the rocks is a large tree. The tree is like an amazing sketch. The branches pop out like a large coo-coo clock. The leaves flutter gracefully like smooth water in the wind. The last thing that really stands out to me is the weather and sky. The clouds in the sky look like feathery pillows resting on the sky’s soft blue surface. The clouds move slowly, blotting out the wondrous heat of the sun. I hope you can now understand all of the amazing and interesting sights there are outside my classroom window.

SpherespencilPauline Santry ’14Grade VIII

RibbonspaperIvy Porter ’23Pre-Kindergarten

Self PortraitpaperJonah Reay ’20Grade II

Through the Windowtext and drawingTess Bierly ’19Grade III

6

Reflections on the Grade IX Trip to Spain

We arrived at Barajas, the Madrid airport, half asleep. We got some drinks, and when we reached the bus, we passed out one by one. Ms. Come and Ms. Alvarez woke us as we pulled into Salamanca with a panoramic view of the city. We went home with our host mothers for lunch and a nap and then met the group under the clock in the Plaza Mayor. Miguel and I got some delicious ice cream and ate it while we all walked over to the catedrales. In the Catedral Nueva, we climbed to the top of the tower, where we had an amazing view of the entire city and took a lot of pictures. After a very full first day, we went to “Valor,” a famous chocolate store, for some traditional chocolate con churros. Then we walked home to our host families for dinner. On the second day, we went to Estudio Sampere, the language school, and met the teachers who would work with us for the next five days. After our placement test, we headed to the Plaza Mayor and then took a walking tour of Salamanca, passing by the Catedrales again and seeing the University and the famous Casa de las Conchas (House of Shells). In the afternoon, we went to a car museum, where we saw different forms of transportation from the invention of the bicycle through experimental race cars. We later visited an art museum called the Casa Lis, which was once a private home and now contains a collection of art deco and art nouveau works. Afterward, we walked over the Tormes River on a Roman bridge, and after taking lots of panoramic photos with Pasha and Maddie, we headed back home.

George Reeders ’13Grade IX

Drawingcolored pencilGrayson Lee ’23Pre-Kindergarten

Self PortraitpaperBob Zintl ’14Grade VIII

IslandclayAlexandra Herman ’20Grade II

7

PaintingtemperaManciana Cardichon ’16Grade VI

Cape Cod

My favorite place is Cape Cod. I go there every summer, and I really like it. My family and I normally go there during the summer because it is so much fun. I run downstairs to have breakfast, but before I do I look out the window at the glittering ocean. Then I look at the flagpole to see how windy it is. Once I eat breakfast and get dressed, my sister still isn’t awake so I have to go wake her up. Once I wake her up, I go back downstairs and I get into the car to go to sailing. We are put into groups, and then we get into the motorboat with the instructor. My friend sees a long pink jellyfish while we are on the boat, and our instructor decides to chop it up with his motor, which is really disgusting. Then, after that disgusting moment, we keep going out to the docks, which are covered in bird poop. We start to rig the boat, and my friend lets go of one of the strings. We have to capsize the boat to get the string back. Normally, we go out sailing in 420’s (a type of boat), but today we are allowed to take turns in the Hobie Cat with our instructor. The Hobie Cat is a big sailboat that we only sail in once or twice every summer. It has a striped sail, and the bottom of the boat is blue. We are the second group of people who get to go, but we have the shortest turn because we are in the middle. After a long day of sailing, we get into the motorboat, and we go to the dock and roll our sails and then it is time to go home for lunch. My friends and I decide to have a play date at my house. We have lunch at the snack bar. Then we bike home and get into the water. Once we get in we swim around watching the minnows. I swim by a patch of seaweed on the bottom, and I see a bunch of “moonies” floating. I catch a couple and then let them free while I am listening to the waves crashing onto the ocean floor. Then we decide to get out and dry off. We go down to the frog pond and catch some frogs. I catch one that is the size of my hand. We put it into the bucket with all the other frogs. Then my friends have to go home. No more fun.

Charlotte Ketterson ’17Grade V

MaskclayKion Young ’16Grade VI

Puppetmixed mediaClaire Randolph ’16Grade VI

8

Red

Deep, uncontrollably heavy red.Mind catching, trance enhancing, sleepifying red.It is hunkering down, waiting for someone to lift the stone wall off its back.Red.It envelopes.“Sit down,” it says in a low monotonous voice.It is unexcited, uninvited.A giant red dragon lying on the grass.It has been defeated and has no heavy hope left.It is the heavy drape that falls upon you while you sleep.It is the full saturated body, sprawled out on the rocking chair of the front porch.This man lies in 100 degree heat, trying to revive his thick mind, Caught in the doldrums of his sluggishness with a cold glass of lemonade,But all efforts are futile for no matter how hard he doesn’t try,The heat will slowly, heavily seep into his body until he falls into a weighted, uncomfortable sleep.Heavy.Thick.Don’t move.Stay.Red.

Lucas Mueller ’15Grade VII

Puppetmixed mediaMyles Riehl ’16Grade VI

DrawingmarkerJustin Lee ’23Pre-Kindergarten

My Living Room Time to do homework, I say to myself as I sit on the big couch. I can hear my dad fixing the garden outside, but very faintly. Ahh, I love to be in the living room because it has everything I like. It has a space to run and play; it also has a T.V. to watch if I am tired. I usually play there a lot, and if I am tired, I lie down on the soft, wide couch. Sometimes I hear Mia playing loudly in my room with her dolls, and other times I hear her singing all over the house, but if I go somewhere else, I will hear it more loud and clear. I barely feel lonely in the living room because Snowbell, my big sister’s cat, is always there, making me feel comfortable and making me smell her stinky cat breath, but I am used to it. The living room is always there, waiting for me to come and see the decorations and toys and do what I would like to do.

Camila Salcedo ’17Grade V

9

Lord of The Fries

Ralph was stranded ... at Burger King. The car had run out of gas, and there was no gas station or tow truck nearby. You see, Ralph is a forgetful guy. This leads to the occasional problem, but nothing like today. Ralph was just coming home from church, when he realized that he hadn’t stopped by the gas station recently. He was out of gas, and there was no gas station nearby; only a Burger King. So he pulled in, cursing his bad luck. “Why?” one might ask. Burger King isn’t too bad, is it? Well, here’s the other thing. Ralph is … a vegetarian. He sees Burger King as a place where meat is all you can eat ... besides fries. Ralph knows that fries are some of the most unhealthy things you can eat, but Ralph is so hungry that the first thing he did was order some fries. He then noticed the pickles and veggie side trays that were available. Then, he picked up his phone and ... it was dead. And then it hit him. He was going to be there for quite some time. “Why did I have to go to a church so far away from the suburbs?” thought Ralph. “Even if I can use somebody’s phone and call a tow truck, with all the turns that the tow truck would have to make, he could easily get lost.” So he began to ration what money he had on hand. He made a list showing what he would eat for the next couple of days: salad at breakfast, pickles and fries for lunch, milkshake and fries with ketchup for dinner. There were no accommodations at Burger King, so he slept in his car. Over the next few days, Ralph began to develop his own style, leaving as few ripples in the ketchup as possible, and then sticking the last of his fries in the ketchup, so they looked like the protruding spikes of a hedgehog. Then he plucked out each fry until the ketchup tapered to an end on the spots where the fries had been. Eventually, he forgot about the rations (as forgetful people usually do) and gorged on a whole ton of fries. This used up most of his money, so he prayed the tow truck would come soon. The next morning, he felt ... strange ... like he was moving. A look of dawning realization shone across his face as he realized that he had, being forgetful, parked in a tow zone.

Will Carter ’17Grade V

DrawingdigitalSpencer Sarkis ’23Pre-Kindergarten

The Northwest Coast

Tall, mighty treesWater fallingSharp, craggy rockSalty seawaterProtected by the mountains

Jacob Casper ’19Grade III

Riddle

The red, white and blue crumpled jersey, dripping wet in my hands The white number eight shining brightly from the reflection of the sunThe sharp smell of sweat from the smooth, soft, powerful, alive glowing jerseyThe sight of the jersey gave me power and motivation Hearing myself say, “Wow! Really? Thanks so much!”The sound of my heart beating fast, the excitement in my voiceI could taste the bitter taste of a loss, on a better note the glory of past gamesA former Park student, an idol, a friend, a soccer player, my favorite kind of friendThe spitting image of what I want to grow up to be

Answer: Chris Tierney!

Jeffery Perry ’17Grade V

10

Amy is ten years old. She has brown hair in braids and blue eyes. She loves animals. She lives on a farm in Florida. Amy loves her pets, and they love her, but she wants a piglet.

Bearcolored pencilMillie Woods ’23Pre-Kindergarten

Starting From Scratch

When you’re starting offyou don’t know how they will turn out.

You hope that they will be good,You also sometimes hope that nobody takes them from you.

But the ovenIs their hot point,

And that is when you get to see what they really areor how they actually could turn out to be.

Some of them just break or crumble down.Some burn you and leave a scarOnly if you’re not being careful

though.It’s an important scar.

A scar that is telling you not to make the same mistake ever again.

On the other handSome turn out to be very warm and nice

And you’re glad you went through all the timeYou put into them to make them work.Once you have that one really good one

You never really forget.You never forget how good it was.

So once it’s goneand you want anotherYou can start all over

from scratch if you want.It can be completely different.

But equally good.If not better.

But sometimesYou can keep one

And keep trying to improve itThen you have the perfect cookie.

Unless you were thinking about friends, but it’s pretty much

the same story.

Chloe Page ’15Grade VII

Pull Toymixed mediaAlex Strand ’20Grade II

Amy Wants a Pigletdrawing and textMolly Isaac ’20Grade II

11

A bear jumping on the trampoline.

Jumping Bearcolored pencilOliver Hirschfeld ’23Pre-Kindergarten

Urging Her On

Little girl writing her numbers, stuck on forty-nine in despair Outraged, wants to give up.“I can’t!”Teacher urging her on.“Try again.”Her thoughts racing around like busy ants.Feeling lost as a dancer without music. Attempted but failed.Embarrassed, red as a tomato. “Try again.”Frustrated, quickly losing hope.Why try again? Regain focus.Try again?Yes. New hopeTrial, errorTry againAchievementWarm glowing feeling insideLike a warm shower on a chilly December morningEven though she faces new challenges Everyday.She remembers to try again.She remembers the glow of accomplishment.This feeling pushes her on Through her struggles. Char Fox ’15Grade VII

Great Expectations Essay (excerpt)

In the always evolving novel, Great Expectations, the ever changing Pip forms a new opinion on the theme of his expectations. Pip as a young gentleman is still very impressionable. This allows a portion of the story to be purely focused on his change. He slowly but surely learns what he wants from life. This part of the book catches Pip in his first few scenes in London. He initiates this change within himself by leaving his old world behind for his new life. In a metaphorical way, he sheds his skin. He leaves behind characters such as Joe, even though Joe has always loved Pip. He realizes that Joes is what he is: a smith who works with his hands and does nothing more, and who possesses the most basic of social graces. Joe realizes that he is not enough for Pip and that, in a way, he is holding Pip back. Pip embraces his old reality with open arms even as he timidly brings on the change. He knows that his new home is in London. He also knows that he is not changing like he had hoped. This section, for me, symbolizes his true change and his coming of age. He becomes significantly more mature, and he knows that he will not end where he wants to. At this point, he begins to realize truly who he is, and he also learns his own limitations, which is a true indication of his change and maturity.

Benjamin Thompson Hall ’13Grade IX

Family PortraitcraypasAlexander Lee ’20Grade II

12

PaintingtemperaJosie Vogel ’18Grade IV

One With The Snow

The house loomed dark against the fresh white snow. The broken boards of rotting wood groaned as the snow piled faster and faster, harder and harder. Eventually, the roof of the house caved, and the fresh white snow piled in, allowing the sun to illuminate the broken old house. Now the inside was practically gone. All that existed in the house was a mattress, way too big for the room, and a few cupboards dangling from the walls. The two bead-board walls on either side had crumpled from the weight of the snow. When the snow stopped, the fog cleared, and a man stood before the swirling, cool white fog. His beard was the color of snow. He had dark grey eyes with tattered brown hair. It was mid January, and the cracked thermometer read 28 degrees. The man seemed too underdressed for the temperature. He was wearing craggy old military clothes that seemed to date back to the Civil War. There was soot covering his face and hands. Where he came from was a mystery. When he came from was also a mystery, considering his attire. He was holding an old silver flashlight, rusting at the edges. Staring down at the ground, his feverish, beady eyes tore a hole right through it. He didn’t move. Until it came. The shadow dawned upon the collapsing house. The man stood, his whole body creaking as though he hadn’t stood in years. He stared up at the looming cloud, dark against the blue sky. It seemed to start to take over the whole land with its massive gloomy darkness. Soon, the whole sky was darker than the original cloud. Again, it started to snow. Hard. The wind picked up, and the trees swayed. The snow swirled with its powdery dust.The man made a silent decision to make his way, very slowly, inside the house. After many minutes, he was inside. He went over to the far end of the room and sat down on the old mattress. It was probably the only part of the house with a slightly stable roof. As the snow piled up around him, he lay on the bed. Eventually, he fell asleep and through the night he slept.He woke at the crack of dawn, climbed slowly out of his bed, and walked straight through the wall. He was gone.

Matt Kaufman ’15Grade VII

Self PortraitpencilJ.J. Batt ’14Grade VIII

13

Looking Through a Window

Looking through a window, a tourist views the shapes and lights of the NYC skylineLooking through a window, a little girl looks eagerly at the driveway, waiting for her father to come backLooking through a window, a boy sees the joy of the fluttering snowflakes, waiting to play outsideLooking through a window, a mother watches her children play in the autumn leaves, a blur of red and orangeLooking through a window, one sees a gloomy cloud cry upon a distant townLooking through a window, a man shields his face from the fiery eyes of the sunLooking through a window, one looks at the restless cars on the highway, sailing freely to their destinationLooking through a window, one sees a stump that was once a great oak treeLooking through a window, one sees a hawk prowling the ground from the skyLooking through a window, one sees the helpless mouse scurrying through the green grass from the hawkLooking through a window, one sees the flash of lightning and the roar of thunderLooking through a window, I see the shining Christmas decorations scattered across the neighbors’ lawnsLooking through a window, I see the smoke wafting from the next-door chimney, lingering in the winter airLooking through a window, I see the amber glow of the sunset setting over the leafy treetopsLooking through a window, one sees a woman walking her Pomeranian on the freshly paved sidewalkLooking through a window, a kid marvels at the rainbow colors of a candy store, face pressed on the glassLooking through a window, I see me and everyone else surrounding each other, unitedLooking through a window, I see a world, possibilities and discoveriesYet the world won’t be the same as the world you see while looking through a window

Tim Hartshorn ’15Grade VII

MaskclaySujay Jain ’16Grade VI

I Have a Dream…

I have a dream that some day people will live in a world that is full of peace. There are too many wars going on in our world. Wars are caused by differences in religion, culture, beliefs, and also land and power struggles. Wars such as these are happening in Israel and Afghanistan. If we want to change, there has to be more peace in our world. Also, many innocent people are dying in wars. Can you imagine if someone wasn’t fighting in the war but still got killed by someone who was involved in the war? I hope one day there will be more peace in the world and people will fight with their words and not violence. I also dream that wars all around the world will come to an end once and for all. I hope one day everyone will get treated equally and fairly. If we stop war and have peace in the world, our world will be so much better!

I Have a Dreamtext and drawingJeremy Cohen ’19Grade III

14

I know the Sony Open

I know the Sony OpenThe competitive men’s matchI know the Sony OpenA bag of popcorn, a fresh batch

I know the Sony OpenSunblock dripping from the heatI know the Sony OpenMy shoes slipping off my feet

I know the Sony OpenI had two frozen lemonadesI know the Sony OpenThere’s a point that was just made

I know the Sony OpenPeople screaming “Go David!”I know the Sony OpenA fun competition is what I need

I know the Sony OpenYou can’t take your eyes off the courtI know the Sony OpenWearing a t-shirt and shorts

I know the Sony Open The sun so blaring hotI know the Sony OpenIt’s so much fun to watch

I know the Sony OpenWith my brother and my momI know the Sony OpenPeople crying, “Yeah, come on!”

I know the Sony OpenFans know who they want to winI know the Sony OpenA tennis match it is Sydney Cohen ’17Grade V

Friendscolored pencilMimi Raviola ’23Pre-Kindergarten

Half Facecolored pencilEllie Laabs ’14Grade VIII

The Northwest Coast

I go outside. What do I smell? Fresh picked blueberrieshanging over a well. I run to the beach with the soft, smooth sand.I start eating blueberries right out of my hand. Out in the distance, I see salmon jumping up and down. When the salmon are jumping, I’m sitting on the ground. I start walking home, elk clambering to their feet.It starts to rain. I better start running before the rain gives me pain.

Jack Cohen ’19Grade III

15

Hard Work (excerpt)

Once again, I am out of position and my forehand flies to the fence like a bee to honey. Frustration overcomes me as I walk, discouraged, back to the back fence. All I want to do is smash my racquet into pieces, but I force myself to remain relatively calm. I’m down a set and a double break in a match that I should be winning, and the thought of losing overcomes me. I resign myself to hitting my shin with my racquet. Sighing, I watch the cars whiz by and the Rhode Island sun beat down on my back. The struggle with my mental block, my exhaustion, this boy who won’t miss, and my struggles to make my favorite shot, all combine in one big painful reality. I am going to lose. I know I am going to lose because even though they always talk about the importance of believing in myself, I know that my feeble attempts at a comeback are useless and too little, too late. My forehands are hitting the fence, my backhands are too weak, my movement is

non-existent, and I keep double faulting. The match carries on in the same manner, and soon I find myself down match point. The serve comes, and I try to clobber it. My feet are not in position, and I put all my frustration into the ball. There is a lot of frustration, and the ball sails, and hits the fence. What did I do? I had lost miserably to someone whom I had beaten countless times before. I solemnly walked to the net, shook his hand, and walked right off the court. My friends attempted to comfort me, but I didn’t hear anything they said. The only thing that really stuck in my head was my dad’s comment. He told me that I had to work hard if I was to succeed in tennis. I thought about what my dad said a lot. I realized that this quote applied to schoolwork, work, athletics and many more activities, and it was a valuable life lesson. I went out to the courts the next morning and played for four hours straight, working hard and starting to feel the tennis ball again. I read a tennis psychology book and started to improve my game mentally. For the next couple months, I learned to control my forehand, strengthened my backhand, improved my footwork, and worked on my serve tirelessly and overall worked very hard. The sweat, pain and hard work all began to pay off, and I began to improve and get myself back on track....

Max Haigney ’15

Grade VII

I Have a Dream…

I have a dream that one day there will not be poverty. In our world today, many people do not have all the basic needs they need to survive. People do not have money even to get food for their kids. Also, people are out on the streets asking for money and have no homes. In addition, people are stealing from other people to help get their basic needs. They are not stealing because they are bad people. They are just desperate. I have a dream that everyone will get a good education and that more jobs will be created. I also dream that people will have enough money so that they can meet their basic needs of food, clothing, and shelter. I hope that one day, poverty will not exist. Our world would be a much better place without poverty.

Half FacepencilReg Anderson ’14Grade VIII

I Have a Dreamtext and drawingSaunders Haley ’19Grade III

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Reflections on the Grade IX Trip to France

We stayed in Aix-en-Provence, a city in southern France, for the duration of our ten day trip. Aix is a city rich in history and culture and is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. Aix-en-Provence was founded by the Romans in the 1st century B.C. because of the natural springs found there. As a result, there are over 100 fountains throughout the city. The largest fountain is in the Rotonde, a major traffic circle, where we would meet our driver, Delphine, before each afternoon activity. The cafés and shops around the city were all very elegant. Each one had awnings and places to sit outside for “people watching.” We went to several cafés to get snacks before going home to our host families. One of the ones we visited was called “Le Grillon.” We went there because we wanted french fries. We also spent our free time shopping. Most shops around the city were French boutiques, except for the occasional “American Apparel” and “Sephora.” Also, while walking around the city, we saw two carousels that we really wanted to ride. They were so cool, with tigers and panthers and pigs and hot air balloons and rockets and pterodactyl skeletons and caterpillars. But we couldn’t ride either because we were “too big.” This made us really sad, but we had french fries and got over it. In the city we also saw many specialty food shops. The French don’t have one market for every item on your grocery list; they shop at separate markets for each kind of food: boulangerie for bread and pastries, a fromagerie for cheese, and a boucherie for meat. Also, every day all five of us walked home to our French host families. The first night was tricky. Chloë and I got a little lost because we took a wrong turn. Beside that, walking home by ourselves, seeing real French people, and hearing French was all so real. Chloë and I would pretend to be French, and every time someone walked by us, we said OH LALALALALA. Aix-en-Provence was a wonderful home for our ten day trip to France.

Justine Hatton ’13Grade IX

PaintingtemperaJack Brennan ’22Kindergarten

Lampmixed mediaJosh Silbersweig ’15Grade VII

DragonclayCameron Cook ’15Grade VII

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MaskclayCece Robinson ’21 Grade I

Half FacepencilSadie Kraft ’14 Grade VIII

1) First, put on your skates and tighten them.2) Then balance on the edge of the skates.3) Then get on the rink and bend your knees.4) Move your feet side to side and don’t go fast.

How to Skateinstructions and picturesDahlia Roberts ’21Grade I

Quick Cotton

My name is Quick Cotton. I am nine years old. I have a twin sister named Silver Water. I am very good at creating pots and jars. I love to add parts to the pueblo. My mom, Swift Squirrel, likes to make pots and jars, also. My dad, Black Bear, loves to sew clothes. I love my dog, Dash. He always makes me happy. I love to grind corn with my grandmother. I hope you liked my life.

Quinn Smith ’19Grade III

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Benjamin FranklinmarkerOliver Barkan ’20Grade II

Wisdom Story (excerpt)

The cool, salty air rustled my hair, and a briny tang sparked my mouth as my grandma and I stepped cautiously down the rickety wooden stairs towards the rocky beach. I loved this beach and always have. It was my second home. The way the slimy seaweed lay draped over the crevices, as if looking for buried treasure. We had descended the staircase and were now venturing into the old boathouse lurking above the rocks. I loved the musty and salty smell of the furniture and the aged plaster seagull suspended from the ceiling. I would always stare at it while my grandma cleaned up the room in the beginning of the summer, waiting for it to turn to me with its beady eyes and start squawking and flailing, but it never did…. Finally, the time came to descend the final rickety wooden staircase to the beach. I clutched my grandma’s hand and started climbing down. I landed with a THUMP on my feet. The smell of the ocean drifted up my nose and overcame my mind. I was one with the beach once again. My favorite part of the beach was the seaglass. My grandma had told me that seaglass came from all parts of the world and that every piece of seaglass was a part of something. Every time I saw a sparkling speck of it jutting out of the rocks, I would hold it like a baby, cradling it in my arms, wondering what magical place it had journeyed from. She told me that if you could see through the seaglass, it wasn’t ready to be kept and that it wasn’t ready to leave its home. Now, when I find a new shimmering trace of the magical glass, I pick it up and stare at it for minutes and minutes, waiting for a sign of parting. Sometimes I’m lucky, and sometimes I’m not. My grandma taught me so much about the ways of the ocean, and it makes me so grateful to know all of its secrets.

Annabel Reay ’15Grade VII

Rain Forestcrayon and markerSeth Wolpowitz ’21Grade I

Flat StanleycrayonZain Sheikh ’21Grade I

DrawingpencilBen Madden ’21Grade I

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Grade IX Work Study Journal EntryDramatization of my first day at Horizons for Homeless Children

Rain poured down, the wind whipping it into the window, blurring the view, not that it mattered too much-- all there was to see outside was a play structure and cars... and dark clouds, of course. But Marvin, with a face that oddly resembled that of an old man, was pressed up against the window, muttering unhappily at having his view obscured, or so she guessed because most of what he said was unintelligible. The dreary day was coming to a close, and she only had two other kids, Angel and Jasmine, to be picked up. She didn’t mind this, though; she sat comfortably in the tumbling area, with Angel on her lap, Jasmine quietly coloring beside her, and Marvin still with his head pressed against the window. In fact, she found it strangely calming to have quiet in the Infant-Toddler Room for once; the rain obviously had a tiring effect on the kids as they kept yawning. Their yawns were contagious, and soon she could feel her eyelids slowly drooping down, drawn closed by an incredible force. She awoke, startled by the sound of Marvin hitting the glass and shouting, “Look, look!” She squinted, and though the rain-splattered window made her vision blurry, she could see Angel’s dad entering Horizons, so she began gathering his thick coat, hat, and shoes to bundle him up against the weather. She had just finished getting Angel’s shoes on when his dad walked into the classroom and began signing out his son. She hurried to finish the bundling, saying as she did, “¡Mira, es tu papi!” After saying goodbye to Angel and his dad, she finally turned her attention to Marvin and Jasmine, but as she turned around, she could see that they weren’t in the tumbling area anymore. Jasmine’s drawing lay abandoned on the padded ground, and all that was left of Marvin was the impression of his feet on one of the oversized soft blocks. She was confused; she could have sworn that they had been there as she dressed Angel. Could they have run out while Angel’s dad was signing him out? The door had been open.... She pushed this thought out of her head and carefully checked under tables and chairs, calling out their names. The classroom was small, though, and it didn’t take her long to realize that they weren’t there. She knew that a lot of times at Horizons, when the day was winding down, teachers would take kids into their rooms just to spend time with them if they had a connection. She knew it was a slim chance that a teacher would have taken them without letting her know, but she decided to check just in case. She remained hopeful as she walked through the halls, but her heart fell more and more with each classroom she looked into, empty of Marvin or Jasmine. She didn’t understand how they could have just walked out with no one noticing. The hallways were full of adults who would have stopped them. Feeling panicky, her heart beginning to race, she went to the back of the building where the washing machine and conference room were. She checked and rechecked every spot she could think of, but eventually she had to admit to herself that they weren’t there, and she headed back to her classroom for one final, futile check. She felt so ashamed - she was a lead teacher. How could she have let this happen? Entering her room, she heard a slight rustling, but she couldn’t quite make out where the sound had come from. She stood frozen, listening for the smallest sound. Maybe, she thought, Maybe I missed a spot in here.... There it was again! The blanket that covered the shelf with the building blocks rustled. She ran over and threw off the blanket, only to see the delighted faces of Marvin and Jasmine, giggling with their bright eyes staring up at her. She was overwhelmed with emotions, happy to see them, mad that they had not come out when she had called their names, relieved that they were safe. She closed the door to her classroom and set blocks up for them to play. The rain continued to patter against the window, and she sat down next to the kids. Yes, she thought with a smile, what a calm afternoon.

Victoria Alvarez ’13 Grade IX

We brought the food on the bus. I felt good because I gave the food to people that need it.

Visit to the Food Banktext and drawingGraham Lee ’21Grade I

Now in my terrarium I can see two beans, and they are growing!

Terrariumtext and drawingEllie Batchelder ’21Grade I

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Name Story

Chip! Splinter! Crack! I like my name because I can’t see myself named anything else. My first name can be short or it can be long. My last name has a lot of history behind it. And my middle name is dedicated to a guy who helped many other people. I’ll run through my name back to front. A very long time ago, there was a king named King Boleslaw I. In an attempt to regain the south eastern territory of Poland, many enemy forces charged at the king. A knight by the name Roslaw Tyszka ran to aid the king but broke his sword on the neck of an enemy. The king handed him another sword, but at the end of the battle he broke that one, too. As reward for his bravery, he received a large part of Poland, a family coat of arms, and was renamed Roslaw Tzraska, which comes from the Polish root Trzaskac. Trzaskac means to chip, splinter, or crack. My middle name is John. I was named John as a dedication to my great great Uncle John. Everyone just calls him Uncle John. Uncle John was a wonderful person. He fought in World War II in one of very few Polish submarines. Also, after the war, he help many immigrants in America. Uncle John died before I was born, but I will always look up to him. My first name, Benjamin, means a son or my son. Ben was just a name my mom and dad agreed on. My mom thought the name fit me, and my dad liked it because I could be called Benjamin on formal occasions and Ben any other time. Now for what I was almost named. . . I was almost named Josh, but I don’t really think that would fit me. I like Benjamin John Tyszka just fine. Anything else just sounds weird to me.

Benjamin John Tyszka ’16Grade VI

PaintingtemperaSebastian Park ’18Grade IV

Mallard Duck: It has webbed feet to paddle.Opossum: Opossums play dead when they are scared.

Mallard Duck and OpossumcrayonHannah Crozier ’22Kindergarten

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My Favorite Place

My favorite place is the Adirondacks. Just as we get out of the car, I can already taste the sweet air and hear the special rush of the wind. After the five hours in the car, I have to crack and stretch (hoping something will crack). I can see all the ferns greener than anything around. We’re climbing up a mountain, working for lunch even if it’s mushed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Along the way, I touch the wet moss from last night’s rain. I can almost feel it drinking up all the water. As we get to the bottom of the mountain, we know we are getting close because we hear the stream rushing along its path, seeming to go on forever. We see th blue skies beginning to fade into pinks and yellows. I want to stay and just watch the clouds fade, but we have to get home for dinner. As I have dinner, I always try to reflect on the day. I try to separate the good and the bad things in the day, and when I’m in the Adirondacks, there are not many bad things. What I love about this place is that I can always count on feeling the wind whistle across my face and tasting the sweet air that I know will always be there.

Russell Thorndike ’17Grade V

Eating Fire My special moment is of the gleaming, shining faces of my friends, like water in a cool lake, its wave pulsating against the rocky shore. But these faces are not lit up by radiant summer waters, but by the fire that we have made a ring around. What is it that draws us near this fire? Not the cold, for we are well warm already, for this is summer camp. Therefore, there is no reason to be cold, I think to myself. Are we afraid? Trepidation does not make us resort to the comfort of this glowing fire, for we are safe, we are complacent, we are unafraid. No, it is not these reasons that are luring us to the fire’s licking flames, like the wheat blowing wildly on a windy day, careless, joyful and free. It is our gluttony, our hunger, our childhood need for sweets. It is the marshmallow roast. My newly cooked marshmallow, my scorched ball of sugar, mine. It is the ignorance, the blind happiness, the fact that I was staring at that kid who had just stuffed the fifth marshmallow into his mouth. These are the things that snatch my attention, which is the reason that this slowly liquefying candy, ignited with the fire of a campfire, those embers of friendship, the blaze of freedom and fun, joy and ecstasy, whose ashes die out along with the carelessness of summer, slowly enters my mouth. As I move my hand, clutching my sharp stick, piercing this sphere of what is about to be searing pain, I am vaguely aware of the fact that I am putting fire in my mouth. The dancing fire surrounding my treat takes its last gasp as my gaping mouth engulfs it. The profanity that is ensuing would make a sailor faint. My dignity has left me, abandoned me, laughing and pointing, and I am understanding my mistake as I frantically run around the bonfire, scoping it for a bottle of water. As I run around, I see laughing faces, worried faces, chewing, smiling, horrified faces. Somebody, maybe a counselor, I wouldn’t know, tosses me his water bottle. I screw the metallic lid open, and the waterfall of relief comes pouring in. The water feels as if angelic fingers are brushing my scorched tongue and cheeks, and gracefully slip down my throat. I sit down, exhausted and in pain, and I look around. These are my friends, I think. These are the people whom I only get to enjoy once a year. I shouldn’t be wasting this time with them eating fire. So I slowly get up, and with a gravelly voice, I manage to choke out a “Can we go back to the bunks now? I’m kinda tired.”

Alex Tesson ’16Grade VI

PaintingtemperaAria DeMarco ’18Grade IV

IslandclayMyles Burgess ’20Grade II

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Portrait of Mrs. Boydcrayon and pencilNoah Abdur Rahim ’22Kindergarten

The Restaurant That Will Change Your Life

Imagine a strawberry going into deep dark chocolate. This review is about a restaurant called The Melting Pot. It has great food. I will tell you about some. My dad gets a Caesar salad and lets me have a taste. I like it with bleu cheese dressing. It tastes really good. My next favorite is cheese fondue when you dip bread in it. It tastes so good, and it also tastes good with apples. But my favorite of all is chocolate fondue! I bet it would be your favorite, too. I like it because it is hot melted chocolate, and they cook in front of you. I love the restaurant. It is great. The food is great. It is a miracle. If I could, I would eat there every single night. It is so tasty good. I love it! The food will change your life. It is so good, and it looks good, too. When you walk in the door, you will see a bar with mints on it. Behind the bar is a T.V. If you turn, there are two ways to get to the place where you eat. The way on the right will take you past the kitchen. The left side won’t. When you sit down at your seat, you will see two pots on the table. And you will see there is a lot of space between you and the other people.When will you come to The Melting Pot?

Aaron Cohen ’20Grade II

Street Drawingcolored pencilKiera Mason ’17Grade V

Kimberly Boyd works with Mr. Massauro.

Percy

Percy quickly catches my eyeHe really wants to go outsideWhy do I have to take him, why?The puppy will not be denied

He really wants to go outsideThe day is proving to be niceThe puppy will not be deniedSadly, a run will not suffice

The day is proving to be niceMaybe just a quick little runSadly, a run will not sufficeHe wants to have a lot more fun

Maybe just a little short runPercy shoots another quick lookHe wants to have a lot more funA long adventure, like a book

Jack Pierce ’16Grade VI

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The Kye Bird

I am the Kye bird,the one with the small mouth and big wings. They stretch out across the border.I fly high in the sky where the rainbows can’t reachthe colors they need.My wings are like a fan turning on and shutting off. Trying not to fall, I land on a tree.I fly silently, quieter than the crickets at night. I am that thing you can’t spot in the sky Is it a hawk? Is it an eagle?No. It’s the Kye bird.

Kyla Wright ’16Grade VI

Art Roomcolored pencil and markerMacy Sweeny ’21Grade I

DragonclayWill Kelly ’19Grade III

Cape CodInspired by Of Mice And Men, by John Steinbeck

One hundred miles east of Wellesley, the Atlantic Ocean drops in close to the sandy beaches and shines a deep blue-green in the sun. The water is warm, or at least warm enough to swim in for a few minutes at a time. Tall waves come pounding down onto the yellowish shoreline. As you stand there with the ocean trickling through your toes, you start to get a feeling. A kind of feeling that can only be felt here. A feeling that makes you close your eyes, and you smile. When the wave retreats, your eyes open up to the glow of the warm sun. All of a sudden, you start to heat up inside, like your body is a stove and the sun is a flame. Without thinking, you dive into the chilling water. When you surface and look back to the beach, the golden sand dunes lie peacefully, and the green beach grass sways so gently in the breeze, it could put you to sleep. But before your eyelids start to droop, a wave carries you softly toward the shore and leaves you again on the warm beach sand.

Ashley Herman ’14Grade VIII

Starbucksblock printEvvy Baranski ’15Grade VII

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My Name Story On January 3, 2000, I was born in Kampong Cham, a small town in Cambodia. Family members, friends, and people my family didn’t even know came to see the newborn. For two weeks, my family kept me and cherished the time they had with their little baby, knowing at the end of those two wonderful weeks they would have to give me up. Then the time came when my father pulled me away from my mother and two brothers. Still nameless, he brought me to the foster home. The crying baby somehow knowing she was away from her mother was reluctantly given to the caring hands of the foster home. My father still had not found a name for me, but in his luck an American doctor was in Cambodia at this time and knew a few Cambodian names. The reason for this is he did not know any names for girls, his only experience was with boys. As the doctor listed names, my foster father translated. A big grin formed across his face. Then she knew she finally found one my father desired. Then leaving me behind he left me with my name, now my middle name, “Tevy.” At eleven weeks I was adopted. As my mom flew to Cambodia, she and her friend Pamela picked out my name. They decided my name was going to be “Talia.” My mom liked the meaning of the name which is heaven’s morning dew. The name also comes from the muse Thalia who was the muse of comedy and entertainment. She hoped her new baby would have humor and be entertaining to her when she was having a bad day. Once she arrived in Cambodia, she was greeted by my foster father who had come to the airport to bring her to me. It was an exciting and nerve racking ride. The drive seemed like hours, but yet it only took minutes. Finally they arrived at the foster home. As my mom entered the room she saw my foster mother holding a little baby. Instantly she knew that, that was her baby. And that was the moment I became “Talia Tevy.” Flying back home we made a few stops at the airports. There my cousins, aunt and uncle met the both of us to meet me for the first time. That was a very special moment. Still a ways to go, we headed towards home. Once we reached home my uncle and grandmother were there waiting to see their niece and granddaughter. My mom exhausted and me being cranky. My grandmother swept me away from my mothers arms and rocked me to sleep. My uncle quietly asked what my name was and my mom answered in a whisper “Talia Tevy Smith” just before she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

Talia Tevy Smith ’16Grade VI

Midnight Sparkles

The MidnightSparklesinto thedark nightAt dawn thejoyous rushcomes aliveThe forsythia glowsin the middayEveryone atworkAt dusk the mindsettlesdownIts Midnight againThe MidnightSparkles

Kata Khakali ’18Grade IV

Rabbitpaper machéDavid Shaw ’17Grade V

Paperwhitestempera paintHadley Laughlin ’22Kindergarten

Owlpaper machéKatie Conn ’17Grade V

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The Majesty of LarzInspired by Of Mice And Men, by John Steinbeck

A few yards south of the Park School, at Larz Anderson Park, birds chirp and dogs play. The hills extend for a mile, and the far off city of Boston can be seen from their peaks. At the top, there are some rough stone sculptures, neatly arranged into rows of two, that appear to be Chinese, with calligraphy carved into the hard, weathered rock face. Near the bottom of the hill is a natural colonnade of oaks, which leads from one smoothly cut, curved stone bench to another farther down the incline. Over the slope is a grassy field, two hundred yards around. At one corner, there is a baseball diamond, covered in the coarse sand that leads from one base to the next. The field lies beside a small playground, splintering wood chips peppering the hard dirt ground. On a summer day, the water fountain in the playground provides cool gushing relief from the heat of the sun. Continuing along a gravel path, one reaches the pond. The cool, windy air blows the branches of the surrounding willows; their rustling breaks the quiet peace. Looking closely at the calm, cool waters, one sees minute fish swimming in awkward circles. Crossing over the bridge and heading toward the next hill, there is a small, domed gazebo, which looks out onto the calm waters. The smell of pine fills the air as one walks along; the slender trees provide shade from the harsh rays of the sun. Sometimes, looking very closely into the brush beneath the trees, one may catch a glimpse of a small, furry, baby rabbit hopping through the tangle, leaping from one hiding place to another, trying to avoid being spotted by the shaggy dogs that will chase it across the hilly landscape. While gawking at the rabbit’s miraculous display, one may stumble upon the scattered droppings of the geese that roam the area before they migrate in the winter. The cool air that rustles the trees makes the whole scene seem perfect, until the buzz of humans, giggling, chatting, shouting, and even squealing, while experiencing the joy that is Larz Anderson Park, breaks the silence.

Johnny Parry ’14Grade VIII

LandscapecraypasMarty Faling ’19Grade III

MaskclayNoa Fay ’16Grade VI

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The House on Cottage Street (excerpt)

We didn’t always live on Cottage Street. Before that we lived on Crafts, in a grey-blue suburban palace with three floors and an off-white and green carpet running up the stairs. Gus, the dog, left rusty fur all over the upstairs chair, for that was where he secretly lived when we weren’t watching him. The backyard was small and, being perched upon a surprisingly steep hill, was not a place for playing. It was a place for sticking tiny, sweaty hands in the concrete angel birdbath and tentatively touching toes to creeping watery moss. Before that, we lived somewhere in Bethesda, Maryland. I don’t remember much about that place, except for the white stairs climbing to my room and the tomato plants outside. All else I think I remember was told to me and there is nothing I can do to actually recall it.... Our house, the house on Cottage Street, was a kingdom. There were no neighbors bothering you, no forced amiable greetings walking the dogs, no block parties, no shared driveways. 88 Cottage Street was a place of peace; we were alone, just us, alone with the swans and the pond and the turtles and the nettles and the barn and the chickens and the trees and the trees and the trees. When we first bought it, it was old and grey with cracked yellow tiles on the floor and torn maps all over the attic’s ceiling. So, we tore down the insides of the North-Western section, the piece by the road, added a tower, and painted the shingles butter yellow. That house was my sanctuary, my place to simply be. I spent hours outside sitting in the stream, fingers and toes becoming prunes. In the spring, the magnolia bushes dripped with their white and pink flowers, the blackberries sprouted small and green, and I could fill all the hollowness or sadness I felt just by stepping outside into my backyard’s glory. The house itself was soft and long like a rectangular snake stretching in the grass. It had a wooden staircase whose steps one, two, three and the fourth one from the top creaked like doors when you stepped on them. It was quiet there, out in nature. The street is a one way and cuts off of Goddard Avenue. Ostensibly, it is horribly difficult to get anywhere from, but turns out to be a blessing, creating a deep physical separation from the world that is very difficult to achieve anywhere else in Brookline. It was our home, and we belonged there, in the twigs and crunchy grass and green blackberries and muddy water. Once when my friend came over, we were playing catch in the grass by the nettles, over to the left of the bridge. I threw the baseball too far, ran off to get it, and when I returned, she was looking around, finally noticing her surroundings. “I can’t believe you live here,” she said to me. “It’s not that impressive,” I retorted, “I just do. I wish I lived where you do; you have neighbors and block parties and get to share driveways.” “I guess,” she said, “But I can’t throw the ball as far as I want without it breaking my neighbors’ windows.” Right then is when I realized what I had. I had something different from everybody else. I had space and emptiness, emptiness that was full of non-human life, emptiness that could be filled with just one person and just one old baseball and just one red pocket knife and just one wild brain and just one small female body running on wood chip paths through tall, thick trees. I knew how much I had in that moment, and I valued it beyond measure.

Lillian McCarthy ’14Grade VIII

Kayakacrylic on canvasRachel Spitzer ’13Grade IX

Giraffecollage and drawingSage Albright ’22Kindergarten

An oval is just an oval until you add a neck and legs. Then, it is a giraffe.

Latin Projectmixed mediaKym Morris ’15Grade VII

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Having a Dog Is Fun!

Are you thinking of getting a pet? Are you having trouble deciding on which pet to get? There is a parrot, a fish, a cat, and what I like the most: a dog! I have come to know that a dog is the best pet you could have because having a dog is fun. Let me tell you why. First of all, having a dog is fun because you can play with him. You can play tug-of-war, you can play fetch, or you can play chase. For example, one time when I was playing with my dog, named Chowder, he was tugging on the rope so hard that I couldn’t get a grip, and I was laughing so hard. Another time, I was playing with Chowder outside in my backyard, and I had to chase him because he wouldn’t give the ball back. It was awesome to chase him around. This makes me realize that playing with a dog makes me happy! Secondly, having a dog is also fun because you can cuddle with him. You can cuddle on the floor, you can cuddle on the couch, and also in your bed. One time, I was using my dog as pillow, and he was soft and fuzzy. He is the best pillow you could have. It is also fun to lie down with your dog. One time, I was cuddling with my dog on the floor, and we were having a blast while I was rubbing his belly. It makes me feel snug and warm when I cuddle with my dog. Lastly, having a dog is fun because you can practice being the boss. You can tell your dog to sit, lie down, or stop barking. One time, I had to be the boss of Chowder because he wouldn’t stop barking. So I had to chase him until he got into my room, which made me feel like the boss. I realize that sometimes having a dog is not that much fun. Sometimes, you have to do work to take care of him, and sometimes you can get bitten. But it all will pay off eventually because having a dog is so much fun! A dog is a great friend to play with, a great snuggler on the couch, and a great pet to be the boss of.

David Cammarata-Green ’18 Grade IV

Amusement Park Ride

My heart was pounding with fear. I was sweating. Then I took my seat, and I shut my eyes. The ride started. I was so scared. It went up and down and side to side. I threw up. Then the ride was over. I went home, and I said, “I’m never doing that again.” The end.

Jaida Alameida ’20Grade II

Lampmixed mediaEllie Baker ’15Grade VII

Flower tempera paintKate Saltzman ’22Kindergarten

I was at my cousin’s house. She said she was going to hide under pillows waiting for school.

Hurricane SandymarkerPhoebe Scott ’22Kindergarten

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Guinea PigsmarkerParker Neilson ’22Kindergarten

Super Bowl Performancestext and drawingShane Romano ’21Grade I

Happy When I grow older I want a simple house. A house that people stumble upon and wonder who lives here. My mom’s friend, Nevin, has a house in the woods, and when we go there, we can never find the house. We have to drive down a lengthy road that winds like a snake, and we end up at Boulder Road. Boulder Road is easy to find because there is a colossal rock near it. Even though we often get lost, I always love going to Nevin’s house, and I admire the simplicity of the home, including the handcrafted decorations. Being cocooned in this abode makes me feel content and happy; as if a similar home is my destiny. Like Nevin’s home, I hope my home will become a place where many social gatherings occur. I want my house to be friendly and soft, like a new kitten. I want a visit to my home to be all that and a bag of chips. It will be a large house with a big living room with an old couch on which my many friends will sit and relax. When my friends arrive, a small, friendly dog will jump on them and eagerly lick them. My friends will exclaim, “Ohh, I love your house!” And I will say, “Thank you very much. I worked diligently to make my home welcoming.” My house won’t be flashy with bright colors or an odd looking design. It will be undecorated so passersby won’t feel ashamed about their own houses. I won’t own unnecessary ornaments. I don’t want my house to intimidate others; I want it to be a reminder that basic living can bring great happiness. I want a home about which I can proudly say, “See that? I designed it.” But most of all, I want my house to make others happy. My house should brighten visitors’ days, make onlookers cheerful, and hopefully make anybody who is associated with the house in any way happy. Yes, that is what I want my house to do. Make others happy.

Danny Little ’14Grade VIII

Half Time at the Super Bowl

Half time is between two quarters. All the time, people sing. Like Alicia Keys and Beyoncé. You need to be famous to be on the field. Some famous singers lip-sync, some don’t.

Whalepaper machéSophie Wax ’17Grade V

Street Drawingcolored pencilBreanna Durand ’17Grade V

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How to Punt a Ball

Punting a ball is hard, but you can do it if you practice. First, you have to be a goalie and just have blocked the ball. Then you have to throw the ball. Next, you have to kick it in midair. Last, you have to block it again and do these steps over and practice!

How to Punt a Balltext and drawingScott Schuster ’19Grade III

Paddle boarding text and drawingJonah Paquette ’19Grade III

Guinea Pig

The first time I saw him,He had his paws stretched outHis big sides bulgingFast asleep

Off somewhere in his guinea pig dreamsHe doesn’t notice I’m thereI see his soft breathingUp, down, up, downNot a stir in his body

The first time I saw himHe ran up to meCurious of what I heldOf what his piggy brain could wrap aroundHow I smelled of carrot

The adoption description of himShort hair, male, healthyThat’s not himHe’s so smallNot very sophisticatedBut yet, in an instant,He can surprise me

Shira Wolpowitz ’18Grade IV

Paddle Boarding

Crash! Slash! Bang! I heard the heavy waves crash on my rainbow board. As I was paddling out from the beach, the waves swiftly took me to a place where, in the distance, I could see the bright, golden sun as we approached it. The water got lighter, and the sky got brighter. It was burning hot, as if I were in an oven! But then I got worried because I heard my mom and dad calling and yelling, “Come back! Come back!” But I had forgotten how to, so I couldn’t! I was terrified, but it was a good thing that my sister was right next to me, because she was smart enough to tell me. So finally, when I had turned around, I was relieved. When we got to the shore, I leaped off my board. I was so happy to see my mom and dad. I gave them the best hug I had ever given. That was one of my favorite times paddle boarding.

Portrait HeadclayMaddie Hurley ’13Grade IX

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Licking It Up!

Clank! Clank! Clankity! Clop! Rrrrrr! Boom! People are bowling or eating. Eating what? Ice cream! Welcome to Ron’s Ice Cream! You can bowl with a pair of special sneakers, and it looks like this. When you enter, you see brick walls, a gray door, a grayish rug, a gray counter, and women or men behind the counter. There are various types of ice cream, but I have only tasted a few varieties. But they are luscious, mouth-watering pieces of delight. Here are the varieties: mint chocolate chip, vanilla, vanilla chocolate chip, chocolate, cookies and cream. All right, all right. Even though I don’t taste a lot of flavors, I taste more than a few. The thing is, everyone wants it. I like it because everyone of any age can go.

Emmanuelle Donaldson ’20Grade II

Voices

Everybody in my advisory has different voices. My advisor’s voice is like a pillow, soft and nurturing. And me, my voice is quiet and tired. It never gets too loud or excited, and it always sounds tired. Cole’s voice is raspy and deep. His voice doesn’t need to get stronger, because it is already very loud. Charlotte’s voice is quick and soft, and it flows like a river. And Nelson, who is the football player, has a voice like a bumpy road, but it comes together nicely. My friend Maya’s voice is like little girls, like little pieces of cotton candy, all soft and quiet because she doesn’t need to be loud to get to the point, smooth to put your ears into when she is talking to you, making you laugh and feel happy. It is the spicy smell of buffalo wings before you eat them, the smell when she tells you about a food and you can’t stop thinking of it, and when you talk with her, the noise outside has all different sounds, and Charlotte laughing, too. The laughing, the complaining, and the Alvarez Advisory that makes me feel like I’m at home.

Jamie Carroll ’14Grade VIII

Self-Portraitcolored pencilNiko Matsuzaka ’21Grade I

Spiralsblock printAlexander Ketterson ’15Grade VII

Duck and OpossumcrayonAvery Rea ’22Kindergarten

Ducks have great feet. Ducks only swim in shallow water.(Opossum) It plays dead when predators come to eat it.

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My Life is a Ski Trail

My life is a ski trailnot knowing what will happen,but ends up all turning out well,I sometimes fall but always get up There may be cliffs or chutes,stumps, or maybe roots.You think it’s a great path until you find out about the mud patch.It could be your favorite gladeuntil you arrive at the ice slide.

My skis are my brain determined, bold, and curiousnavigating through lifeone point as sleek as an oxthen sharp as a spear.Trashed or loved,either stuck in the back of a truckdriving through the mountains of Switzerlandor wedged into a dusty closet in an apartment.Sometimes abandoned in a dumping of snowor in a heavy downpour ruining my vacation.

My heart is a chairlifthoping that I will be on it again.

Thacher Formisano ’16Grade VI

Scuttling Scavenger

“Hey, give that back!” I yelled at the crab.The crab was an ugly green monster! He was blue in some places and green in others. He had little green pieces of seaweed growing on him. Even though he was ugly, he was smart. He untied the knot on the string I was using to catch him. He grabbed my bait, a hot dog, and started running. As soon as he started running, he had five or six crabs chasing him. They were ugly! Some had six legs, some had five, and one had three legs. One had only one claw! The little green monster saw them, stopped eating, and started running in circles. The other crabs kept chasing him. I watched them from atop the old pier that the crabs like to hide under. Because the pier was high, I could see the hot dog chase below me. I saw more crabs coming out from under rocks. I could not stop laughing. It was so funny watching crustaceans wrestle over a little piece of hot dog. The little green monster hid under a rock. I did not want him to eat the hot dog all by himself, so I climbed down the old pier piling and lifted up the rock he was hiding under. Dust filled the water like a puff of smoke. I watched the little green monster shoot away from me like a rocket. The chase was on once again! The other crabs were faster than the little green monster. It took five minutes for them to catch him. They were like little kids playing tag. When they reached him, there was a feeding frenzy. When the hot dog was gone, everyone was happy except the scuttling scavenger.

Oliver Eielson ’18Grade IV

Puppetmixed mediaGeorge Rowe ’16Grade VI

Eaglepencil drawingAlex Taylor ’20Grade II

Self-PortraitclayCharlie Rubinstein ’21Grade I

This is a diagram of a Bald Eagle.

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Mount Everest It was a hot summer day in Florida as the cool breeze brushed against my face. I knew that the rides at the amusement park would be fun. I stared up at an enormous mountain. A roller coaster climbed on it, then sped downward. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I could hear the people on the roller coaster screaming. I couldn’t tell if the people were scared or excited because it was hard to hear the noise over the other rides and little kids shouting “Look up there,” I told Dad, as the screaming roller coaster people were taken downward. “Wow, that seems scary. You want to try it?” Dad asked me. “Sure,” I replied to him. “Is it scary?” Ethan asked. “Probably,” Dad said to him as we started. Soon we were at the roller coaster. Dad sat with Ethan so I had to sit next to someone else. The roller coaster took off with a rumble, then got faster, and faster, and faster until... boom. The roller coaster was speeding upward to the top of the mountain. I didn’t want to look backward because the mountain was really steep, but I wanted to see how high up we were, so I turned my head backwards and looked down. Down at the noisy crowds of people swarming the grounds. Clank, clank, clank we passed clanging rocks and dark spots. We finally reached the top of the mountain. Crack! The track ahead of us broke, and we slowly rolled backward into complete darkness. I wondered why we had stopped so suddenly and also in the dark. I looked around myself trying to see where we were, but I couldn’t tell. The second I gave up, a yeti appeared and started talking. I could barely hear what the yeti was saying. I didn’t expect the yeti to be glowing green, which he or she was. Once the yeti stopped talking, a light appeared out of nowhere, and I could now see where I was. We were in a tunnel. We rolled fast into complete darkness. We skimmed around corners, and I held the bar in front of me with a tight grip, hoping the roller coaster wouldn’t go any faster than it was going right now. My heart was pounding, and I wished I had known that this ride was scary before I got on. There was screaming before, but now it was silent. I couldn’t hear anything except for the whizzing of the roller coaster, zooming downward. It took a long time, but finally we reached light, and the roller coaster slowed to a stop. As we hopped off, I could hear people talking about the scary ride. Even though I didn’t want to go on Mount Everest again, I said to Dad, “Can we go on the ride again?” “No, I’m feeling shaky,” Dad replied to me. “Fine,” I told him as we walked off into huge crowds of people. I always love spending time with my family on vacations.

Emily Dhadly ’18Grade IV

A Natural PlaceInspired by Of Mice And Men, by John Steinbeck

Several hours north of New York City, the Beaverkill River flows in and out of the twisting bank and runs quickly over the shallow bed. The water is cold and crisp, even in the middle of the summer, for it has traveled under the shade of overhanging trees and rarely catches the glimmering rays of the sun that would warm the flowing stream. On one side of the river, a steep and abrupt bank rises from the ground and leads to a small, paved road, but on the other side there is a forest filled with trees: maples and oaks that have once again turned their leaves orange, red and yellow on the yearly cycle of the seasons. And then there are the steadfast pines, whose leaves retain their dark green year round. The bark of these trees is worn and cracked due to the years of rain and snow that have fallen into the valley. Under the overhanging leaves, there is a worn path that twists and turns following the curves in the river. At its edges, moss and leaves lie beside the fallen trunks and logs of old trees. The path is worn and firm from the footsteps of old fishermen wanting to fish in the world-renowned Beaverkill trout streams, and by young boys and girls running to their favorite swimming hole in search of the cooling water on hot summer days.

Jack Mueller ’14Grade VIII

Self-PortraitcrayonCorina Loomis ’22Kindergarten

Patternblock printDaniel Baumel ’15Grade VII

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Self-PortraitcraypasMaya Rabin ’19Grade III

Purple

Purple is the taste of clam chowderFresh out of the microwavePurple is friendshipPurple is having a babyPurple is helping our communityPurple is learning a new wordPurple is a good lifestylePurple is singing a lullabyPurple is a cookieRight out of the ovenPurple is magicPurple is playing at the beachPurple is lightPurple is pumpkin piePurple is being honestPurple is Dr. PepperPurple is forgiveness

Jubi Oladipo ’21Grade I

Leaping High

Dancing around, listening to music, singing to the music as I leap through the air. People are watching me, but I’m not afraid. I could do this for hours. I try, I try, and once I get it, I will be happy. I see birds flying as I leap high. Their wings fly silently like a silent song. Feathery white wings like snow.

Elsa LeStage ’20Grade II

Green

Have you ever seen green? The true, real green,The green that smells as sweet as candy, yet sour like a swamp,The green that sways with the seaweed,Or like emerald eyes, peeking behind the branch of a pine. The green that screams hope and excitement,And chirps like a cheerful canary, or hiccups like a frog.The green that sounds like wind, rustling through the leaves of mid-spring.The green that sounds like a voice, singing in between the Towering grass of an untended field. The green that laughs like a child, so young and curious,Or as dark as the middle of the forest at midnight.The green that shows birthdays, Or silky moss at the edge of a garden.

The green that is transparent,Yet so creamy and light.The green of nature,Like the reflection of a light-bulb, of a ripe green apple, olive, or pistachio.The green of the sea, seen only from underneath.

Lilia Brooker ’16Grade VI

BakerymarkerSilas Lawrence ’22Kindergarten

Self-PortraitcraypasAmeen Sheikh ’19Grade III

My grandma has a bakery in Ohio. She has a gigantic mixer.

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MonarchmarkerTuck Gilbane ’22Kindergarten

Valley PondInspired by Of Mice And Men, by John Steinbeck

About three miles from the center of Lincoln, Massachusetts, Valley Pond shimmers in the sunlight. The water gleams like the golden sand on the shore that lines one side. Surrounding the rest of the pond, the grass and greenery sway in the breeze that swirls the water’s surface and sends the leaves lining the woods into a gentle frenzy. The rickety old grille stands alone by the side of the sand pit, the ashes leap through the air in an endless dance. Across the stretch of lush green grass, the fishing pond teems with fish; bass, trout and beautiful sunfish. Three trout, a sunfish and a young bass all leap out of the water at the same time from varying territories around the pond. With their scales glinting in the sun as they arc through the air, they leave large splashes and ripples in their wake. The mini waterfall gushes loudly over the cement barrier, and the water trickles into the tapering stream beneath the red creaking bridge. The red creaking bridge, worn by many feet, paint chipping, planks loose, groans beneath the weight of the eager children rushing down the beaten path to fish or swim, and it groans beneath the parents, in their holed t-shirts, grungy pants and knowing smiles; loaded down with tackle boxes, nets, rods, towels, bait, and whatever else their children grabbed that morning. The old bridge groans beneath the older sisters, texting the entire way to the sandy shore or volleyball net that is barely hanging on by a thread. A lonely tetherball hangs limp and ignored, the blood stains from noses and mouths acting as a warning to keep away. After a few chaotic hours, the exhausted adults begin to round up their children and begin the long haul of the now soaking belongings back to their homes. Accompanied by the moans of the youngsters, not understanding why they have to leave, and the phones of sore-footed sisters, now ready to sleep. Beneath it all, the red creaking bridge groans, because it’s only the beginning. Soon the coyotes will come out to torment the geese and the deer, the owls will hoot, the bugs will buzz, the chipmunks will skitter, and the frogs will strike up a chorus. But until then, the pond just shimmers in the moonlight.

Erica Jarrell ’14Grade VIII

The Me-Bird

I am the Maya bird,bird of a graceful feather.I fly in wind and in light of the moon.My wings are silent fighting against strong winds.My ears vibrate with the sound of my song as I fly among the dark skyor underneath the bright moon,like a hawk searching for its prey,or like a lion chasing a gazelle,or a feather blowing in the wind,formal as a wedding,round as the moon.I fly, I fly unawarein the darkness.I am a Maya birdin the darkness of the night.

Maya Principe ’16Grade VI

Stuffed Bearblock printSimone Sparrow ’15Grade VII

Fireworks

Boom flashFireworks in the starsA maze of different colorsViolet, pink, blue, gold, silverIn the skyAre all sparkling toward your face,Astonishing to your eyesFireworks in the air!

Ameri Vest ’20Grade II

At the Farmcolored pencilJonah Roy ’22Kindergarten

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My Bad Day

Sometimes I just have those days. Those days when I wake up and I know it is going to be a bad day. The day when I can feel a storm is about to hit. I feel as if there is nothing I can do, so I try to let that bad day just float by. That day filled with tests that are harder than I expected. The day when I get the project back that I was really proud of and get a bad grade. The day when I am constantly worried about how my term grade will be. The day when I am mad that a teacher assigns yet another project right after a paper. The day when my backpack feels heavier than normal. The day when my jokes aren’t funny. The day when I lose my favorite earring. The day when the only thing my teacher says to me is, “take off your hat.” The day when I’m so tired I swear my eyeballs are going to fall out of my head. The day when I wish my super power was to be invisible. That was yesterday. Today the storm has passed. Still I see the remnants that I have to clean up. I, like the lost lobster buoy, have rode out the storm; not dead but disoriented. I’m not sure where it took me, but today I will find a new current and see where it leads me. It might be back into the storm or to an island of paradise. I’m still floating, just not sure where I’m going.

Sophia Gillies ’14Grade VIII

So Happytext and drawingSophia Davidson ’19Grade III

So Happy

The sun setting up on the ocean aheadWaves crashingSalty cool waterTrees sappySo happy

Computercrayon and markerAdam Shaff ’21Grade I

iPadtext and drawingAvery Golub ’19Grade III

iPad

I would really like to get an iPad. I will find a very safe place to keep it. Also, I will get a case so it won’t break if I drop it. I will also help pay for it. I will take really good care of the iPad. Just think about it. If you say yes, you will be the best mom and dad in the world.

Raymond Stewart. He works at the computer lab.

Portrait of Mr. Stewartcrayon and pencilGus Vogel ’22Kindergarten

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Laxachusetts Tryout

Bam! I slammed the door. We were at Tabor Academy, and I was trying out for the number one lacrosse team in the state, Laxachusetts. I immediately got out of the car, and I could smell the sweat of kids trying out before me. I walked to the trunk of my car and lifted up my bag. It was ten times heavier because of all the water I had packed. I put the bag over one shoulder and put my stick over the other. I sprinted over to check in with an ear-to-ear smile on my face. Then I said in an excited voice, ”George Fulton from Brookline, MA. ”A coach said back, ”Ok, you are good to go,” and gave me a pinny and pointed to the field where I should go. As we walked past one field, I started to feel the pressure, not from anyone else but myself. When we got to my field, I slammed my bag down, unzipped it slowly, and started to put on my gear. At the same time, I was looking around to see if anyone was really good. Then I put on my pinny. It was number 24 in white, and the whole pinny was green. After that I stumbled around everyone’s bags looking for Ben or anyone I knew. Then I heard, “George!” It was Ben. I was relieved. Most of the kids were from Duxbury. That town is really good at lacrosse. They are called Dux Lax, and on all of the parents’ really nice cars it says Dux Lax on a big green sticker. But I am here to represent Brookline and Brookline only, and none of this Dux Lax is going to get in my way. I said back, “Hey, do you want to go throw? There is a extra ball right over there.’’ Then I quickly ran over and picked up the ball and started to throw with Ben. I felt good. My leg was not hurting like it had in the car, and the turf was soft. That was good because if you fall, it does not hurt as much. After about five minutes, a big tall coach with a worn out hat walked in and yelled, “Bring it in boys!” Some kids were so scared that they immediately sprinted in without even thinking about it. Ben and I jogged in because we did not want to get in trouble, and we did not want to waste even a little energy on running. When everyone was there, the tall bald coach said, “Welcome! All of you look really good, but we can only take some of you. This is how it will go. First, we will do a dynamic warm up. After that, we will get into partner passing. And then five coaches will come out and judge you on passing, agility, stamina, shooting and all around skills. Then in about a month you will get an email saying if you made it or if you will have to try again next year. Ok, enough talking. Now for our dynamic warm up.’’ After that little speech I really really hoped I would measure up. Then the tryout started, and I started with confidence.

George Fulton ’18Grade IV

Tryouts

First of all, I got up. Then I had bagels with cream cheese. Then I went to my … baseball tryouts! I was the first one there and the youngest. Then the tryouts began with pop flies. I caught one and missed two. They were really high pop flies. Then it was grounders. I got three for three. After I got the grounders, I threw the ball to first. Then it was hitting. Machine pitched. It went 35 miles per hour. I hit three for three. Then I got in the car and went home. My mom asked me, “How did you do?” And then I went to my room. The end.

Ralphie Vogel ’20Grade II

Street Drawingcolored pencilAlexander Hayre-Perez ’17Grade V

LandscapecraypasLulu Pierce ’19Grade III

back cover artwork:Birdstained glass mosaicMiguel Principe ’13Grade IX

Blue CarcrayonTrey Sutphin ’22Kindergarten

Black CarcrayonSeth Barkan ’22Kindergarten

Pollution (excerpt)

Over pollution is the introduction of various, usually man-made products into our oceans, air, and lands at an excessive rate, and since these products are the initial effects of business, most powers don’t care to reduce them. Take air pollution for an example. It is emitted from automobiles, chimneys, factories, and cows. Yes, cows belch, or burp if you will, into the atmosphere. It is a chemical called methane, and it takes up about one quarter of the amount of methane gas that is emitted into the United States’ atmosphere. But that is not just cows; it includes all other forms of livestock. Cattle are not the only contributors to the world’s climates. The most effective form of harmful pollution is our own pollutants and pollution. For instance, one gas-powered lawn mower (to mow the average lawn) emits as much Co2 as 46 new cars! Our vehicles, cattle, and snack containers and packages (Doritos, etc.) all play a big role in the Earth’s climate. We should reduce this significant cause of the Earth’s problems very considerably, if we want our future generations to live as we have…. After writing this essay, I realize that we, as humans, have a very important role. As the most capable beings on this planet, we must take care of it for our own future. We share this wondrous planet, and we must respect that. We cannot put human needs above all. We cannot forget that it is not all about the present. We need to remember in order to restore, because someday we are going to have to say: Once upon a time....

Abshir Adam ’17Grade V

Sun

The sun feels like a wave, pushing out sunrays, bringing out sweat just as waves bring out rocks. It brings out the heat in us, just as water brings out the coolness in us.

River is shaped like a maze, twisting and turning, almost impossible to navigate. It seems like the maze or river is ending for you like a shadow at night.

Life is like a shadow. It will leave at night, but it will always come back.

Shahab Kousheshi ’18Grade IV

Amsterdam Morningdigital photographSamuel Dale Barton ’14Gr.VIII

The Park School171 Goddard Avenuebrookline, MA 02245

Non-Profit OrganizationU.S. Postage

P A I DBoston, Massachusetts

Permit # 55643