Ellie Piszel

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the Laurel Loop literary

magazine. This magazine contains

the original writing and artwork of

Laurel’s middle school students.

Thanks to all who submitted and to

all who are reading.

Happy reading,

Your Laurel Loop Editors,

Shea Purcell- 5th grade

Lillian Opsitnik- 5th grade

Tuyen Reed- 6th grade

Tristan Whitt- 7th grade

Maddy Massey- 8th grade

Julia Rusnak- 8th grade

Mrs. Stanek – faculty advisor

Skittles by Abby Quarm

Flower Child

By Morgan Malone

I’d like to think of girls as flowers.

There are different types,

Different colors… no two are the same.

I’d like to think of myself as a flower child.

I was only a seed, but now I’m a flower

Growing every day, becoming bigger and closer to the sun.

I’d like to think of myself as a plant

Someday using my power to breathe life into another flower child

Who will bring her beauty to the world

Art by Maya Sklarin Words by Kat Tomsich

Linzy Malcolm

Baker’s Girl

“Patty cake patty cake, baker’s girl, bake me a cupcake as fast as you can.” In my

kitchen at home, I watched my mom bake sugar cookies from my little tot kitchen, and I

said, “Mom I want to help frost the cookies.” Frosting cookies as a four year old was

very difficult, especially since I was too young to use a knife, instead I had to use a

spoon. I could never seem to frost the cookies the way that my mom did. Perhaps I was

young and I needed practice or perhaps I just wasn’t trying hard enough.

Years after I finished frosting those cookies, my perspective on baking changed

completely. When I was about seven years old, my dad was in the kitchen cooking and

like any seven year old I was bouncing off the wall like crazy. My dad said “Linzy, go

sit down and watch something educational.” So I plopped right down on the couch and

turned on “Cupcake Wars.” I felt like I was being transported to a whole other world

with buttercream and cream cheese frosting, writing in chocolate and delicious mouth-

watering cake all rolled into one competition. When I told my mom that I wanted to

make cupcakes she said, “Sure, let’s make some cupcakes.” Now I make cupcakes for

inaugurations and Christmas parties or just for fun. Soon I will teach my little friends

Ryan and Madison how to bake delicious cupcakes to perfection.

Multiplying My Way into Math

Anonymous

Everybody has their day when math just clicks. When I was younger on early week-

end mornings my older cousin, Ana, used to teach me new skills. She explained how to

spell big words, like onomatopoeia and miscellaneous. We both enjoyed these lessons. I

loved being the student, while she shone as the teacher. Many of these lessons are since

forgotten, but there are still a few that I remember. I see her trying to teach me by using

her fingers, and scribbling out numbers on loose pieces of paper. I listened as intently as

possible, trying to ignore all the sounds of rustling leaves, and scuffling of dogs. She ex-

plained multiplication to me as repeat addition. At first, I was confused until she taught

me the rules. The rules made everything make sense. Anything times zero was equal to

zero. Anything times one was equal to that number. After she finished teaching me, I

went off to go prove my new skills. I showed my mom, my dad, and all my other cousins.

This experience continued to be meaningful to me years after. Even though I was

little, the memory and the skill stuck with me. I shared and still share the shortcuts with

others. I have used these shortcuts in math class and in solving problems in real

life. These shortcuts make multiplication so much easier. I will always remember that ear-

ly Saturday morning when I first multiplied my way into math.

Eliza Rusnak

What is It

By Charlotte Piszel

"What is it" is a story written by Charlotte Piszel in the 6th grade. This is

only a fragment of the entire story. If you'd like to know more you can

contact her at cpiszel@laurelschool.org. I hope you enjoy "What is it"

There I was. No hope left. I thought I was just going to die, but then

I saw It and It saw me. I don't know what It was. It stared me right in the

eyes. It's eyes were bright blue like one of those really bright LEDs. I had

no idea what It was at the time and I really didn't want to know at the

time, but I'm so glad I know now.

I am Madison Harley and I have met It. This whole thing started on

my 16th birthday. I wasn't having one of those big blow out parties, I just

had a few friends over. My friend Bailey kept trying to make us play

headbanz so we ended up playing the game. The game was okay, but

then Daniel Capuldy walked right through my front door. I stared at him

like It stared at me except I stared at Daniel with disgust. He sat down

next to me and asked, "Can I play." My initial response should have been,

"No" But instead I asked a one little question that changed my entire life.

Dancing in Blue By Kat Tomsich

Emily fell from the sky- literally- after opening her attic door. She first ran into some criminals before meeting U, who scared them off, and he is now taking Emily to WishTown, the capital of 'Wishical,' the strange world Emily fell into. “Here we are.” U said, motioning to the very edge of the Forest. They had been walking for half an hour, and they seemed to be getting nowhere, but suddenly, Emily could see a huge silver platform through the trees. “Uh...what is that?” She asked U. “The Flying Shipyard, of course.” U said, like Emily should know this, but she didn’t. “Flying ship yard?” She asked. “Yes, Flying. Ship. Yard,” U rolled his eyes. “Why is it so hard for you to understand?” “You mean planes. You have to mean planes. Ships don’t fly.” Emily said, ignoring U. “What are ‘planes’? Are those some kind of weaponry?” “No! There like...flying...uh...buses.” “What’s a bus?” “You are really stupid.” “No I’m not!” “Then you’re impossible.” “You already said that earlier” “I’m allowed to say it again!” “Thats silly. Why would you want to say things twice?” “Uh...to make a point. Plus it’s been hours since I last said it.” “Who cares?” U huffed, and walked out into the open, Emily followed him. After all, he was her only guide, unless she wanted to become a criminal or whatever U called Princess TiTi and her “friends.” When Emily came out of the gloom of the forest, she was blinded by daylight. She had let her eyes ad-just for a moment. What she saw was amazing, on the silver platform was hundreds of ships, cars, and what looked like Star Wars speeders. They were all in their own area, lined up on the sides in little stable-like rooms, with a gold plate on the door, which was glass. Emily went over to one stable and read the gold plate.

Lucy: Angel Cove It was a name! All of these...things...flying ships...were owned by people, but did they really fly? Soon Emily got her answer. U was talking to a man in a silver uniform at a booth at the end of the plat-form. The man nodded, and said something into the corner of the booth. Emily realized he was talking into a microphone. Suddenly, one of the stable doors opened, and a sleek motorboat, silver, blue, and shiny, came out. On-ly it wasn’t entirely motorboat. It had some weird rockets under airplane-style wings. They were silver and blue (and shiny) too. “What the-” Emily said. Just then, U came over and grabbed her arm. “Come on, don’t ask any questions, because once you start, you never stop,” He said. “You mean I talk too much.” “Exactly.” “You’re so kind, and just for the record, you can’t really blame me if I don’t know where in the world I am, so-” “There you go again! Blah blah blah…” U rolled his eyes “I said one sentence.” Emily growled “Well, now two.” “Whatever. Anyway, who’s counting?” Emily said. Then: “Hey!” She yelled, as U yanked her up the metal steps attached to the flying ship.

Celeste Bohan

Scarlet

By Tess Jeckering

Some Things Don’t Go Together

By Abby Quarm

The first thing my parents said to my siblings and me before we set off on

our family bike ride was “Don’t go near the water.” As a six year old, I thought I

was old enough to ride my bike around a resort in South Carolina. William, who

was five at the time, was riding a small tricycle by the water. All of the sudden, two

out of the three wheels fell off and his bike tipped over. It doesn’t sound that bad

but we were near water--in fact about a foot from it. All of the wheels rolled down

a small hill into a pond. I was up about 100 feet from the rest of my family. I was

oblivious to what was happening, except I knew that my dad was frustrated. I

thought I was fine, so I kept riding. I rode for about ten minutes.

I suddenly realized my family had disappeared. I did not know if they were

behind me. They could have been ahead of me for all I knew. I was so busy admir-

ing how beautiful everything was that I completely zoned out. It was almost as if I

was on another planet. I had no idea what to do or where to go. If I went back and

they weren’t there, I would have gotten even farther away from them. Or, if I went

forward, it would be possible that they were still behind me and I would have been

even farther away. I decided I would go the same pace I had been going this whole

time, hoping that they would catch up to me or eventually slow down and I would

spot them. After fifteen minutes of riding, they were still nowhere to be seen. I had

no idea where my condo was, except that the name of the building sounded like the

pasta sauce, marinara. Finally, after about five minutes of riding, I came upon a

building named Marina. I guessed it was the right one, and I went in. I’m glad I

did! I had a faint recollection of which room my family was staying in. It was the

second room on the third floor. I went up and knocked on the door.

Luckily, my mom answered it. She was shocked to see me standing in the

doorway, alone! I asked her if she was okay and her response was “I’m concerned

because we do not know where the rest of the family is.” She hurried my one-year

old brother and me into the car. She started driving frantically in the the opposite

way I came to the condo. Ten minutes later, we finally stumbled upon the rest of

my family. I was so happy that we found them, and my dad was very worried be-

cause he did not know where I was. After lots of questioning, we finally appre-

hended that I had ridden out of my father’s sight. He could not run after me be-

cause he had three other kids with him, and some wheels in the water! After that

scary event, we relaxed by the pool the rest of the day because all the worrying

wore us out. We have not gone on a family bike ride since!

Chauncey Cody

Lost and Found I lose my temper I lose pencils, more than 20 At least, and the right To borrow my friends’ pencil cases I’ve lost friends who’ve forgotten Me, while I still remember them I’ve lost my ability to speak up in a crowd of people and to keep quiet in small groups I’ve lost friends And found new ones I’ve lost all of my baby teeth Nine pulled out at once And another in a smoothie I’ve lost scripts for plays And lines that I try to hold on to I’ve found two camps, Two places where I’d like to always be I found that I don’t want to grow up I’ve found that friends change even when I don’t And I’ve found that I want to be happy most of all Maddy Massey

Helping Hand

By Nina Ross

Hospitals. They are big for a little kid. However, not if you are giving a big helping

hand. 2007-2008 was a big, long year for me. I was in kindergarten and I had a won-

derful teacher. She was always there for me and she was very caring and kind to every-

body. Then one day, she found out her daughter had cancer. This made me very sad

because I thought I wouldn’t get to see my teacher anymore, but that soon

changed. When my mom found out, she knew she needed to help out since her nephew

had cancer too. But that was not the only reason she wanted to help out. She wanted to

help out because my mom is always giving a helping hand. I thought my mom was

amazing for doing this. She was my hero. And, since my mom was helping them, I

told her I would too.

We started by meeting them at school one day. It turned out that she had a

daughter named Sydney in the other kindergarten class and was the same age as

me. Then, I met Alexis. She was so sweet and a very strong young girl. A couple days

later, we went to the hospital to see Alexis. When my mom and I were walking in, I

could smell the purell just like it was at my doctors office. Then we walked into the

main room and I knew this was going to be an experience to remember. All of a sud-

den, I saw the big colorful toy room! I asked my mom if I could go play in it but she

said no because we were there for a friend and friends don’t leave other friends. We

took Sydney, Alexis’s sister, back to our house to hang out and play. This was how

most weekends went for me and I could not have been happier to meet these wonderful

people.

Over time, our families, became great friends. Sydney is my best friend, almost

like a sister and I now call my kindergarten teacher, “Ju-ju.” Alexis has been cancer-

free for about five years now and she gets her annual checkups to make sure it stays

that way, and my mom always goes! My mom taught me to do what is right and al-

ways lend a helping hand when one is needed. This is a very helpful lesson on any day,

especially when meeting new people you know nothing about. She also taught me that

friends are forever no matter what and you need to be by their side because they are

very important. This story, my story, has given me a forever friendship and memories

to last a lifetime.

Maya Sklarin and Katelyn Lacor

Insanity

By Hale Murch

This is an excerpt from a piece that I wrote because we were studying Edgar Allan

Poe. I liked his horror stories and tried to write something like it.

My name is Cat, but it hasn’t always been. I was originally named April. My par-

ents chose that name as soon as they found out they were going to have me. I was

supposed to be born in March but I was born three weeks late, in the middle of

April. Names have always meant something for me, no matter what they were.

When I was five my mother changed my name to Joy, because my father had just

left us and she thought that a name like that might help her get over the loss, and

it did. She was so happy as soon as she changed my name. I loved to see her like

that. I was Joy until my grandmother died when I was twelve and Mother changed

my name again. This time I was Helen, because that was my grandmother’s name.

I began to look like Grandma Helen. I looked exactly the same as she did at my

age by the time the year was out. You could take a picture of me from that time

and a picture of her and put them side-by-side and you wouldn’t know the differ-

ence other than the fact that one is black and white and the other isn’t.

I changed my name again right before I turned twenty-two. I’ve kept that name,

Cat. As soon as I walked out of City Hall a cat found me.

Clyde by Eliza Rusnak

Chicken Trauma

By Katelyn Lacor

Did you know that chickens can run up to nine miles per hour? I can just

picture my eight-year old self staring in horror at the very small chicken gazing

up at me.

Chloe, the owner of the chickens, laughed. Living with a whole coop of

them in her backyard made her fearless in my opinion. Chickens’ scaly legs and

greasy feathers made my palms go sweaty and my head hurt. It was Chloe’s idea

to go down to her barn and catch my worst nightmare. “It’s really fun! “ she ex-

claimed.

I stared at her in bewilderment and shook my head no. No way. I did not

want to face my worst fear in front of my best friend. Too embarrassing. But

she insisted, and not wanting to look like a “chicken,” I agreed. She showed me

how to wrap your arms around the chicken’s wings; they don’t panic and its com-

fortable for them. I chose to catch a little red one that was right next to

me. The smell of poop and soiled hay was overwhelming, but I barreled towards

the chicken. I was so close, but I tripped over a water bowl and water flew into

my mouth. I laid there feeling humiliated. Meanwhile, a rooster sitting nearby

had other ideas. The rooster hopped onto my back and crowed right in my

ear. “AHHHHHHHH!”

I hollered. I screamed so loud I managed to scare all of the chickens in

the barn and they fled outside. I sighed in defeat. “I give up. That chicken’s

just too smart for me.”

Chloe shook her head. “You can’t give up now! All you have to do is wait for

a chicken to come back out of the barn door and catch her!” “Fine,” I said with a

sigh. I’ll do it for her. So I crouched down by the door and waited. And waited.

And finally a beautiful blue one came out with metallic feathers. I did just

what Chloe had demonstrated, and the chicken stayed calmly in my arms. “YES!”

I squealed with delight. Chloe joined in and we were both cheering.

From then on the mention of chicks chirping, or milking the cow, or petting

sheep didn’t make me feel clammy. I just remembered the swell of pride I felt

when I had conquered my fear. The chickens in Chloe’s barn taught me to always

try to conquer my fears and do what seems impossible.

Perfect Practice Makes Perfect!

By Mary Mitchell

Backstroke wasn’t something I could do - but practice makes perfect, right? I started to swim competitively when I was four. Seeing the swimmers in the Olympics

made me want to try, but they make it look so easy! I used to swim at Parisi Pool, but the

only problem was, I couldn’t swim backstroke. I was nervous and really scared. I always

got butterflies in my stomach before I swam backstroke, so I always swam freestyle in-

stead. I always got in huge trouble, and I was upset. My dad decided to help me. He

wanted to make sure that I was able to swim backstroke, because I can’t always get the

easy way out by swimming freestyle. The first time he told me to just to try once and

show him. I swam across the pool on my back, going as fast as I could. I wanted it to be

over with. I was doing great, until I reached the flags. Every swimmer knows that the

flags mean the walls are coming soon. I started to freak out. My stroke became sloppy,

causing me to hit my hands on the lane line and my head on the wall. My dad swam over

quickly. He told me that my problem had to be the wall. He thought if I wasn’t afraid of

the wall, I wouldn’t freak out at the flags. I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. My

coach had told me that, too. After that I never wanted to swim backstroke again. Then I

quickly remembered what my first coach had told me. My first coach, I am guilty to say,

was my favorite coach - even up until now. I always tried to listen more to him and I al-

ways took his advice. What he had told me was “Perfect Practice makes perfect, so al-

ways try your best.” I always thought of that as if you try hard in practice, you will do

even better in swim meets. Whenever something is hard, I always imagine my three year

old self staring up and my coach, him giving me that advice. You might think three is

young, and it is. My coach was also my favorite because he always helped me. But when

I was three I was watching the Olympics and how Michael Phelps swam and got 8 med-

als in one Olympics, which has never been done. Thats the reason I started swimming.

Also because of the mens 400 freestyle relay. When I saw that Jason Lesak touched in

first by one tenth of a second in front of the French, I knew that swimming was some-

thing I wanted to do.

I broke out of my daydream and now I was determined. I wanted to face my fear

and swim backstroke. I tried again, pushing off the wall from under the water and doing

my dolphin kicks. By the time I did four, I was back on top of the water. I swam across

the pool again until the flags. This time I forced myself not to stop, but it was hard. I ran

into the lane line, but this time I didn’t hit my head on the wall. I slipped under the water

and touched my hand to the wall. From across the pool, I heard my dad screaming and

cheering. I took off my goggles and climbed out of the water. I was so proud of myself

for facing my fear, and I was really glad my dad was there with me.

Chloe Weitzman

A Long Road to Friendship

By Bess Sullivan

It was a day full of promise. The sky was blue, the air was warm and I had

had my fair share of bad luck. It is hard to imagine anything better than shopping

for a horse when you are an eleven-year old rider, but my horse search for the

past three months had been one disappointment after another. Driving towards

Philadelphia with my mom and trainer was long and full of tunnels; dark, long

tunnels. We finally arrived at the first barn. It was stunning so I was sure it could

be the home of my dream horse. I was so excited I could feel myself jitter. I

mounted the lovely gray mare expecting excellence, only to get dirt in my

mouth, twice. My body was bruised, and my heart was heavy but my mind had

not yet given up. We were off to the second barn and my last chance of finding a

horse. The car was quiet as we drove up the dirt road. What if it was another

fail? What if I had to go home empty handed? What if there wasn’t a horse for

me? What if those dark tunnels on the way here never ended?

The bay gelding was cute but young. It was a maybe. Should I settle for a

maybe? Something was missing. I wanted that breathtaking feeling like when

you try on the perfect wedding dress and everyone in your family cries happy

tears. Just as I thought my journey was over, the lady who owned the barn men-

tioned a fourteen-year old mare that perhaps we should try since we had driven

all that way. The mare was not officially for sale. It had not been advertised and

we knew nothing about her. My trainer had always told me that you can tell so

much about a horse by looking into its eyes. I took one look into Alizah’s

thoughtful, wise and compassionate eyes and I immediately fell in love. Riding

her made me forget about all of the disappointments I had faced. She was the

horse of my dreams.

As I was driving back and reflecting on this roller coaster of a day, I knew

that I had learned something along the way. This experience taught me that if

you are positive and patient, your time will come even if it is when you least ex-

pect it. If I had been unwilling to try one more horse or had just given up all to-

gether I never would have found my perfect match. Now that I have Alizah, I

could not imagine my life without her. She completed me. She is my light at the

end of the tunnel.

Everyone has a magical place. Room 202 is a place that I think is magical.

I remember being four years old and walking into Room 202 on a snowy, Feb-

ruary day at the Cleveland Institute of Music, where I was was signed up for vi-

olin lessons. My teacher, Miss Kimberly, introduced herself and told me to have

a seat on the floor. I looked around the room, curious to see where I’d spend

the next half hour. I saw a few rows of chairs, a small wooden desk, two pianos

and lots of cabinets. Wide eyed, I watched as Miss Kimberly pulled out a felt

diagram showing the parts of the violin. She talked to my mom for a few

minutes, then let me rearrange all the felt parts on the chart. I pieced them to-

gether into a violin. After that, I heard the sound of my fingers touching as I

was taught the “popcorn exercise,” where I gently tapped my fingers together

by my ears and listened to the quiet sound they made. Later, Miss Kimberly

traced my feet and showed me how I should position them to play the violin

on a foot chart. She explained that there were four words that described how

my feet should move to get into position. I had the words “one, two, zip, step,”

repeating over and over in my head on the car ride home.

I remember the feeling of how I just had to use a real violin and not just a

box. I worked hard on all the exercises Miss Kimberly had me do in hopes that

next lesson I would get a real violin. It was the first time I ever wanted some-

thing badly. When I was told to stay on a piece and not move on, I worked

harder and was very determined to pass my current piece. I remember the

frustrating, burning feeling inside when I didn’t get a piece right in my lesson. I

knew I would not be moving on, which at the time, was devastating. Miss Kim-

berly taught me how to practice a piece over and over until I got it and to nev-

er give up. I’ve had some moments where I got frustrated, angry, and some-

times annoyed about having to practice violin. However, I have never totally

given up on myself. To me, this means a lot because I can apply this to every-

thing I do today. She also taught me about the importance of having fun with

what I do, which in this case, was playing the violin. I hope that I can pass this

on and inspire the girl I’m teaching now, and to everyone I might teach in the

future.

By Julia Schilz

Violet Watterson

Shea Purcell

Eliza Rusnak