The Scribe   Nativity of Our Lord Catholic School Spring 2017 Volume 27

   

THE GLOW OF A MOMENT

flames lick at the drowsy sky flakes peel from smoldering clouds gentle embers crackle air becomes alive as it flickers and twists

a golden thread trails behind delicately wavering it timidly tastes the burning atmosphere a bittersweet reminder of the day past

clouds collide as twilight falls darkness shrouds the slumbering earth. as ashes are swept away light promises a return By Anne Monroe Grade 8 I saw a sunset through my car window and thought of a fire.

 

STARRY NIGHT The stars at night, Are glowing bright.

They’re white hot spheres, Burning over the years.

The stars at night are a beautiful sight.

By Elizabeth Wentz Grade 5 I wanted to write about something pretty in

nature, and I think that a starry night is one of the most beautiful things to see outside.

 

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UNTHINKABLE BEGINNING

We stare at one another as the sun glares from above. “You know, we should probably write something down,” she says dryly. Probably. The hammock sways lazily beneath us, and a breeze kisses our faces. Breaking eye contact, we sigh in unison as the hammock stills. The world is eerily silent. “Wait! I got it!” she yelps excitedly. I scramble for the notebook. In my frenzy, I fling it at her. She fumbles at first but manages to catch it. With a triumphant grin on her face, she turns to the paper. Her pencil delicately touches the page, and . . . she deflates. “Never mind,” she murmurs tiredly. “Ah, come on!” I refuse to relent. I try to work the idea out of her, but no matter how ridiculous I am, she just shakes her head. “It wasn't good anyways.” I smile inwardly. Although we almost had something, I know she just doesn’t want to admit that she forgot. The sun sinks in the sky as we rest on the hammock. The empty notebook lays next to us, forgotten. Her eyes are closed, and her hands are behind her head. I roll over on my side and face her. “Hey,” I whisper softly. She doesn't stir. “HEY,” I whisper again, louder this time. Her weight shifts and blue eyes meet mine. “Huh?” she asks. She scans my impatient expression. She bolts upright, and the old enthusiasm returns to her face. “You have something!” I sit up slowly. “I sure do.” My pencil is wavering at the edge of a page, but soon enough, my hand is stroking confidently. We stare at one another as the sun glares from above . . .

By Anne Monroe and Caroline Weier Grade 8 We wanted to creatively portray the journey of the writing process.

STRENGTH In today’s world, there are many ways to perceive the word strength. It has the classic meaning of being able to sustain and carry heavy weights, but today, there is more to it than that. Strength can be seen even in people who are physically weak, and it is seen in them every day. Strength can mean being able to withstand treatment nobody should have to face with no hope of rescue, and it can mean being the person who takes the first steps toward saving others. People all over the world endure violence, ridicule, starvation, and poverty every day, and yet the people who are recognized for strength are the ones who can lift heavy objects. Strength is more aptly defined as the endurance and willpower required to face these problems, make a change, and refuse to back down. When this definition is used, the reality of what strength is shines through. People every day have to abandon all they’ve ever known to seek out a better life, and that’s real strength. Real strength is seen in those who are barred from entering a country they’ve given up everything to reach and find a way to go on instead of giving up. It is seen in those who won’t leave behind their dreams of a better world, and in those who stand up to help their brethren in other countries. It is seen in those radicals who realize that we are all part of the same human family, and the only way we can find peace is through unity. It is even seen in those who struggle every day to stay alive. Strength is a given in those who give up everything to help others and those who find new lives after giving up their old ones for freedom. Real signs of strength are the ability to receive ridicule, bias, and judgment and still find the good things in life and the ability to keep going no matter how hard the road is. When we recognize these things as strength, we will be bringing justice to countless people who have worked their whole lives for a sliver of justice. We will be taking the first steps toward unity. By Laila Hewitt Grade 7  

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A WALK BY THE SEA Once I found myself walking at the coast.

The sea air played with my hair and the waves tickled my toes.

Once I found myself walking at the seashore. The sun flashed up at me from the surface while I listened to the ocean roar.

Once I found myself walking at the shoreline.

The sand stuck to my wet feet as the smell of salt and seaweed intertwined.

Once I found myself walking up close to the waves. Their salty spray misted my face while I explored the shallow sea caves.

Once I found myself walking around the tide pools.

I got a glimpse of a starfish on a rock and watched the water sparkle like a jewel.

Once I found myself tiptoeing along the ocean rocks. I stared below at the ripples in the surface and peered up at a large fishing hawk.

Once I found myself walking along an ocean cove.

The sea plants tickled my bare feet as I waded into the seaweed grove.

Once I found myself walking across a wobbling dock. I listened to the water slap against the posts and heard the waves speak their rippling talk.

Once I found myself walking right along the tide.

The water lapped over my cool feet as I watched two waves collide.

Once I found myself walking up along the bay. I stared out at a leaping fish and gazed out from the cay.

Once I found myself walking at the coast.

The sea air played with my hair and the waves tickled my toes.

By Greta Cunningham Grade 6  

US I’m the tall kid who plays sports,

he’s the kid with freckles, he’s the one who loves drawing, he’s the one who loves hockey,

she’s the smart one, she’s the helpful one,

he’s the fast one, he’s the funny one, she’s the short one,

he’s the one who likes Legos.

That’s how they see us and that is how we see each other, but we are so much more.

By Damian Devine Grade 4

 

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WHERE I’M FROM I’m from figure skates, pointe shoes and bookshelves filled with books. I’m from the house with cream-colored stucco and green siding. I’m from the big, black walnut tree towering outside my back door. I’m from my room (my favorite spot in the house) with a comfy bed and bookshelves filled with books that I can read for hours. I’m from the last names of Hunter, Kim and Scott. I’m from Korea, South Dakota, Saint Paul, and Minnesota. I’m from warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies and Sunday morning pancake breakfasts. I’m from a family that loves to hunt. I’m from a family that loves each other and enjoys spending time together. By Lauren Scott Grade 4  

WHERE I’M FROM I am from pens, Gelly Roll, and from books. I am from the gray house with the red roof, the nicest dog, and the garden. I am from the hydrangeas, the sweet-smelling flowers and the trees all around. I am from Easter mass and dark hair, from James and Sarah and Cooper. I am from notes from my dad and trips to the East Coast. I am from nightmares and bedtime stories. I am from Canada Catholics. I am from St. Paul and Canada. From the mum who speaks Italian, the dad who’s a great poet, and the sister who loves books. I’m from Rhode Island with boogey boarding and sand dollars. By Serena Cooper Grade 4 I mention the East Coast, where I go almost every year. There I spend most of my time being inspired by either my wonderful extended family or the nature all around us.  

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WHERE I’M FROM I am from baseball bats, basketballs and a room of chewed up dog toys. I am from a brick house with a white door and a green basketball court in the back yard. I am from my basement where I play X-Box and take naps on the gray couch. I am from Todd and Sticha and from Ireland, Germany and Saint Paul, Minnesota. I am from my mom’s soft cookies and cheesy lasagna. I’m from “Tommy, get up!” and “Have a good day.” I am from a family that goes to church every Sunday, and a family that likes to spend time together at the cabin. By Tommy Sticha Grade 4  

WHERE I’M FROM I’m from hair binders, books, stuffed animals, And dolls lying all around the house. I’m from a big house with a swing set out back And grass that has been played on hundreds of times. I’m from a garden with rock ducks for everyone in my family And a stump from Old Lightning. I’m from a large basement full of toys And an Irish Dance stage for practicing. I’m from Dobie and Meister, Ireland and Saint Paul. I’m from Maura’s yummy chocolate chip cookies And my mom’s perfect apple pie. I’m from “I love you!” And “How was school?” I’m from a family who goes to mass every Sunday And goes to my grandparents’ house for brunch afterwards. I’m from a family who loves to spend time together And a family who loves me. By Margaret Dobie Grade 4 I dedicate this poem to my family.

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THE SAPSTERS “Ruby, wake up! Wake up!” I groggily sit up to find my brother bouncing up and down on my bed. “Walter, can’t you just let me sleep in for once?” I ask. He looks at me pleadingly. “Come on, get up! It’s time for maple syruping!” I instantly throw off my covers, climb down my ladder as fast as I can, get Walter out of the room, and excitedly toss on my favorite jeans and piggy t-shirt. I thunder down the stairs and into the kitchen, where my mom and sister are waiting. “Hello, sleepyhead,” my mom says, handing me a bowl of cereal. “Ready for syruping?” Maple syruping is something my family started four or five years ago. We go to my Grandma and Grandpa Omann’s house because they live next to the big woods. A lot of my relatives come to syrup with us. The people who come are: Uncle Jake, Aunt Leah, and their kids Mila (5), Nellie (3), and Rosie (1), my dad, my mom, me (10), Walter (7), Zora (6), Uncle Dan, Aunt Molly, Anna (12), Jane (10), Eddie (7), and Henry (7). Many more friends and visitors also come to watch and help. Molly and Dan are in California this year, so we need all the help we can get. We are sort of slow eaters, so it takes us a little longer than most people. After breakfast, we jump in the van. After two or three minutes, my sister is already asking when we are going to get there! The ride there is long enough, but with both my siblings in the car, it feels like days. When we finally get there, we sprint out of the van, rush up to the wood door of the house where my grandparents are waiting. They ask us how school is and what we have been learning. They take us in the kitchen, where Grandma gives us cookies. I talk with Grandma for a little while and then go help babysit the younger cousins. My brother has brought fake poo and has us thinking the toddler has gone on the floor! After all the excitement, we are ready for bed. Grandpa tells us a story and soon we are all sleeping. The next morning we go downstairs, eat breakfast, and jump onto the tractor-trailer. The tractor rumbles onto the dirt path and we suddenly stop. We climb out of the trailer, split up into two groups, and each person above the age of eight carries a drill and a hammer. We find all the maple trees and drill holes, hammer in the tap, hang the bucket from the tap and jump back on the tractor. On the ride home we eat the sandwiches that our parents have packed (peanut butter and jelly--yum!). When we get to the house, we play hide-and-seek. After that we have dinner and go to bed. We wake up the next morning, eat breakfast and play outside. The three-year-old, Nellie, finds a dead squirrel--yuck! I push Rosie, the baby, on a swing. She is giggling like crazy! Grandpa, my dad, and my Uncle Jake hop on the trailer with us. Grandpa is letting my little brother drive! The kids are all freaking out, and Grandpa is laughing. When we get to the woods (except for Rosie, Nellie, Mila, and Zora who stay home), we collect all the buckets full of sap and put them in the trailer. We bring all the buckets back, and empty them all into one big jug. We take the big bucket and strain all the bark and bugs from the sap. When the sap is all filtered, we go into the sugar shack. The sugar shack is a little shed that my grandpa made a couple years ago. It is where the sap boils into syrup. It’s kind of like a warming hut; whenever we’re cold, we just sit down in the shack. There is usually something fun to do in the sugar shack like playing cards, setting a puzzle, or trying a bit of the almost-syrup! You have to wait a very long time for the sap to boil, and someone has to watch it day and night. When it is finally syrup, we have to bottle it with Grandma. When it’s morning time, we each have a waffle or a pancake dipped in syrup! Every family leaves our grandparents’ house with an equal amount of syrup. If you ever need a topping for your pancake, or a substitute for sugar, just remember how much work goes into that one little syrup bottle. By Ruby Omann Grade 4

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10 THINGS I’VE LEARNED IN 7TH GRADE

I’ve learned many things in 7th grade, and not just what the mitochondria does and what dimensional analysis is. I’m talking about things that I’ve learned that can help anyone. Here they are. 1. Waking up and crying at 3 A.M. because of what happened yesterday is okay. 2. Siblings are a real gift, no matter what they say or do. 3. Your needs will not always overpower people’s wants. 4. When you and three other people are left unsupervised with a huge bucket of paint, do what feels right. 5. When you’re surrounded by grumpy people, stretching a slinky behind their backs will make you feel happier. Guaranteed. 6. Short answers in Mrs. McConville's classes are essay questions in Ms. McRae’s classes. 7. Group projects are only fun when every couple minutes everyone laughs together, and the teacher is fed up with your group. 8. If a boy in your class with curly blond hair wants to play with your slime . . . let him. Watch what happens. 9. Join the cast or crew just to go to the party. You will make memories that you will carry with you for the rest of your life. 10. If you are ever feeling depressed, watch the Bee Movie and replay the parts when you see Barry’s fantasy, Kenny’s “revenge,” and when they try so hard to make the beekeepers evil. Laughter really is the best medicine. By Emma Atkinson Grade 7 In 7th grade I learned a lot of things outside of what I read for class. It was a hard year for me and taught me valuable things about life.  

THE NATURE OF LOVE Love does not have selfish wants

Love does not have envious thoughts Love does not feel pride, nor shame

Love finds no one to blame Love feels the deepest sorrow

Love does not worry for tomorrow Love has never said a lie

Love by truth will never die Love is pure as morning’s light

Love survives the darkest nights Loves brings forth one’s deepest pain Love joins in on the tearful refrain

Love yearns for hope and strengthens in despair No matter the time, love is always there

By Greta Cunningham

Grade 6  

KINDNESS Kindness given is the best thing to do It makes people feel better, them and you. Never disrespect anyone, Deliver packages of kindness to everyone. Never underestimate the qualities they bring, Every smile is such a simple thing. So simply offer kindness as a daily ritual, Show your appreciation for each individual.

By Annie Swanholm Grade 5 I wrote this after the 5th grade Kindness Retreat.

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WINTER The cold air bites through my scarf,

the ice is very slippery. The branches shake and shiver while

the leaves wander aimlessly around the park.

By Damian Devine Grade 4

 

A SNOWBOARDING FREE VERSE Speeding down the mountain on my board,

the chairlifts there for people who want more. There I am halfway down the hill,

still speeding down the mountain on my board.

Linking turns as I go, sending snow to and fro.

People on the chairlift above me, but I’m still speeding down the mountain.

Almost down the mountain now, slowing, slowing, slowing down.

At the bottom of the mountain now.

Now I am above the people who were above me, and from here I can see

all the people below me, as they speed down the mountain.

By Liam Harris Grade 5

I came up with this poem because I actually snowboard. I really like it and am excited for next winter.

 

WIND AND BREATH As I broke the surface and was born, you washed over my lungs.

I pushed you out, but you determinedly rushed back in, tickling my tiny nose. You reach for my hair, twirling it in your cool fingers.

You dart under my umbrella, lifting it up like Mary Poppins. You relieve me from the hot sun in summer and tickle me with frost in winter.

You slide the snow off roofs, hanging it in the air, then falling like a white shimmering mist. You chase gold and red leaves through the treetops.

You whistle through long blades of grass and rip petals off flowers carrying them away.

By Greta Cunningham Grade 6

 

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POEMS Some are short. Some are long. Some of them rhyme. Some of them don’t. But writing a poem Is never wrong. Some of the best poems Aren’t poems at all. They are just ideas flowing in your head, Waiting to come down as ink on paper, Like water waiting to become a cloud in the sky. But unlike a cloud, once a poem is here, It shouldn’t disappear. By Margaret Dobie Grade 4 Dedicated to anyone who wants to write a poem.  

THAT FOR WHICH I LIVE My heart beats in time with the keys as they click,

Their staccato rhythms sustain me. I feel the adrenaline rush through my veins,

In the way a writer is nurtured. Surely time passes, but I’ll never notice,

The story forms a shell around me. Weaving a plot of creatures and characters,

I leave life behind for my new world. Focus won’t break no matter what time I take,

I can’t stop once I’ve gotten rolling. In this way a child comes out from my brain,

And makes a new life upon the page. There’s a bittersweet feeling when writing’s done;

There’s pride, but the writing’s half the fun. This process, when repeated time and again,

Never loses its draw and appeal. From writing on paper to tapping on keys, There’s something about it I can’t lose.

It brings me sustenance when nothing else will, All my life’s voids are filled by those words. That’s how I know I’m meant to be a writer;

A gift, that for which I live.

By Laila Hewitt Grade 7  

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TOMMY THE CLEVER TURTLE Once there was a tiny turtle named Tommy. He was 11 years old and had a brother named Joe. Joe was nothing like Tommy. He was stronger, smarter, and basically better at everything than Tommy. Tommy was always in his shadow. One day at school the turtles had a race during gym. Joe, of course, won. He got a certificate and all the attention. At the end of gym class, the gym teacher, Mr. Terrfon, announced that there would be a final race for the turtles in one week. The last race was special because the winner would get a trophy! The sign-up sheet was on Mr. Terrfon’s desk. Over the week, every turtle signed up, even Tommy. It was a long week for Tommy. Joe kept bragging that he’d be the winner of the race and get the trophy. At dinner Joe kept making his “I’m the best” face and kept annoying Tommy with his confidence. Tommy kept quiet, but secretly he trained every day after school while Joe hung out and bragged to his friends about how good he was. Finally, the day of the race came. Joe came down the stairs and exclaimed, “It’s Fri-yay and racing day!” Tommy didn’t say a word. He was nervous! At school all the kids gathered at the field. Tommy, Joe, Paula, a nice girl in a very bright pink shell, and Jack, a big, opposite-of-nice turtle, all lined up at the start. Everyone seemed to have friends cheering for them in the crowd except Tommy. No one believed he could win the race. Joe laughed at him. Mr. Terrfon quieted the crowd and said, “On your marks, get set, GO!” The turtles started to race. It was a slow pace, seeing as turtles aren’t the fastest animals on the planet. Joe was in the lead, followed by Paula, Jack and, of course, Tommy in the rear. Tommy saw that he was going to lose unless he became creative. He noticed that the race included a steep hill down towards the finish line. As he neared the top of the hill, he saw Joe and the rest of the turtles making their way down the hill. Just then, he had an idea!! He curled himself up into his shell and started to roll down the hill! He was much faster that way and before he knew it, as he bumped around and around, he passed all of them and crossed the finish line first! Tommy won and got the trophy! Joe complained it wasn’t fair that Tommy rolled down the hill. Mr. Terrfon told Joe there were no rules against being creative. When the turtles went home, Joe watched Tommy put the trophy on his shelf. He realized how proud Tommy was and how clever he had been to win the race. He said, “Tommy, you were great today. You are clever, strong, smart, and nice. I’m glad you won.” Tommy smiled.

By Katie Miller Grade 4 Sometimes being the fastest doesn’t always mean you’re going to be the best. Sometimes you have to think outside the box!  

MY MOTHER IS ANGRY My mother is angry and I don’t know why I couldn’t tell you, even if I were a spy She’s so mad, I was sent to my room My only toy was a big, fat broom How did this happen? How can it be? Could it be because of those worms in her tea? No way, it couldn’t be Because who did it wasn’t me! It must be my brother, it must be Because I put my worms in daddy’s coffee! By James Summers Grade 4  

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A WORLD DIVIDED… Blue skies, birds chirping and happily greeting the day.

People hugging everywhere, and being nice in every way. Kids go to school, adults go to work, and everything goes, as it should

Because absolutely nothing ever goes wrong in this sunny neighborhood. Thunder booming, lightning flashing, rain pelting down like darts.

People shouting at one another while hate tears love apart. Criminals scamper down the street, snatching up everyone’s goods,

Because absolutely nothing ever goes right in this stormy neighborhood. The sun goes up, the sun goes down, life goes on in this way,

Until someone brings it all together, with words I shall now say: A world divided cannot stand, so let’s unite evil and good,

Because nothing works when we’re divided in these two neighborhoods.

By Grace Loonan Grade 5  

THE ESCAPE HATCH The real world isn’t always good Not like she believes it should

She feels so meaningless, like a pawn in chess She’s so confused, she feels like a mess

Her escape hatch, her way to cope

Will give her strength and give her hope See, her way out is the imaginative kind

She locks herself in her own mind

Keep being docile, or pretend to matter She incessantly prefers the latter

No one else knows of this world not far A world where she is the shining star

She can be special, people can care

This alternate reality is waiting right there It’s one step away when things get rough She doesn’t have to pretend to be tough

She wonders if these daydreams are vain

Am I being weird, am I going insane? No, this is her medicine: painkillers kill pain

But when you overdose, there’s nothing to gain

We all need an escape hatch when we are forlorn This is her way to cope with the storm

When lightning strikes, when her heart is torn, She exits the scene until the sun is reborn

By Erika Kyba Grade 7

 

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THE TIMELESS CURSE OF POETRY As a youngen ‘twas bestowed on me,

the timeless curse of poetry. With Chester Sylvester as my name

poetry was my obligatory game. I wrote and wrote and wrote some more,

oh, did I ever write galore. One mammoth problem fogged my mind:

An audience I could not find. There wasn’t a word I couldn’t rhyme,

but my work, worth not a contemporary dime. Never there was an interested soul,

to fall into my balladry sinkhole. What drowned me were words of shame,

all I yearned for, a morsel of fame. One day I sat a feeling blue,

I thought a plan that just might do. Oh, a feeling of extraordinary relief,

I would become the “Poetical Sneak-Thief.” The victim, who would it be?

No one but the opulent Mrs. “E.” It will bring attention to my work so fine,

soon the admirers will all be mine. My un-noteworthy career this will not botch,

I sure could use a golden watch. September seventh would be the day, my ungrateful fans would finally pay.

*** ‘Twas two o’clock in the afternoon,

when I strolled out of the local saloon. I made my way to 71 of Bank Street,

very steadily on my feet. A light was on in the upper room,

there stood a lonely silhouette and a broom. Quick and quiet I would be,

the world's greatest escapee. I scurried out with a moment to spare, before I heard the creak of the stair. What followed was a chilling scream,

that Mrs. “E” had ravaged my scheme. Mr. Morgan was on my tail,

just seconds after the obnoxious wail. By the latter I was stopped, to the firm brick I dropped.

My poetry was finally found... now to escape this confined compound.

By Claire Aamodt Grade 8

This poem was based on the accompanying New York Times article from 1874.

 

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MY GOLDEN RULES I live by these rules. I do my best to follow them; sometimes I can, and sometimes I fall short.

However, I believe these rules represent who I hope I am.

1. Keep a positive attitude.

2. Enhance the lives of the people around you.

3. Remember that if you knew all, you would forgive all.

4. Give 100% of your effort to what you truly love and what genuinely matters; what else are you

going to use your effort for anyway?

5. Avoid negativity always.

6. Surround yourself with positive people who bring out the beauty in you.

7. Choose to see the good in the world.

8. Get enough sleep. For heaven’s sake, it makes your entire day a thousand times better.

9. Eat breakfast every day.

10. Don’t be phony or someone you’re not, but when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

11. Smile whenever possible because it costs you nothing, makes others happy, and can make you

happier.

12. Make connections and spend time with people who love you and you love, too.

13. Live as much as possible by keeping your eyes and mind open to the world and your loved ones and

not on your phone. Enjoy and see the world around you.

14. Sometimes, take the path of least resistance. Other times, push yourself through the brambles of a

tricky or trying situation. Always balance the two.

15. Don’t brag and your friends will wish you well and enjoy your successes.

16. If it won’t matter in five years, don’t spend more than five minutes getting angry about it!

17. Push yourself in different aspects of your life--take up a new craft, learn something unfamiliar, try

an unusual sport, or explore a new corner of the world.

18. Make every day a good day.

By Edie Weinstein Grade 8 I believe everyone has a set of internal rules they follow, even if subconsciously.

I tried to capture mine in a poem.

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ALPHABET OF INSPIRATION

A Always Always keep trying Always keep positive Always be planning, thinking, & wondering Angels Find an angel in the roughest of people B Believe Believe in yourself Believe in others Believe in possibilities Bright Be bright Smile bright Think bright C Color Add color to your life and those around you Create Keep thinking and never stop coming up with new ideas D Dream Dream big, there are no limits E Enjoy Relax, there is so much out there to enjoy--don’t ignore it Entertain Be fun, no one likes a Debby Downer Example Set a good one for others to follow F Faith Keep Faith Be a faithful ally Friendship No one gets anywhere alone G Grace Be kind and gracious; what do you have to lose? Gratitude There is always something you are lucky to have Great You have the potential to be great, take hold of the opportunities Grow Change and develop into the person you are meant

to be H Happiness Bring out joy Help We all need it and need to give it Hope Keep trying Keep believing I Incredible Be incredible Test yourself to your limits; you never know what you are capable of Inspire Inspire people to create and change Be an inspiration to do good J Joy Be joyful Be positive Find the little good things Start happiness K Kindness Be a friend Show the world the good person you are L Laugh Be happy Be carefree Enjoy life Learn Don’t beat yourself up over mistakes, embrace and learn from them Try new things, you’ll never know unless you try Live Take chances and enjoy your mistakes Love Be pure Be compassionate M Magic It’s out there; all you have to do is look Miracles Find the little ones; they are everywhere Be open to them Anything is a possibility Mistakes

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They happen to everyone, take advantage of them N New Wake up a new and improved person every day Nice Be nice, friendly, and kind O Open-minded Be open-minded and ready for new ideas Opportunities New ones are always out there; keep your eyes open P Peace Strive for peace, safety, understanding, respect, and agreement Progress Progress not perfection Keep growing Q Quality Quality NOT Quantity R Respect Earn it Give it Share it S Shine Be a light in others’ darkness Smile Be happy and be positive Look at the glass half full Stamina You can get through it; all you have to do is give it your all Stay with it

T Teach Help others progress Help them find their path Trust Trust yourself Trust others U Understand Work to understand Work to understand one another V Vigilant Be vigilant in your work and how you treat others. W Wonder Be curious Be a wonder yourself X X-traordinary Be remarkable Be different Y Yourself Be yourself and don’t let anyone make you be otherwise Z Zig Zag Be the odd one out Don’t go along with the crowd By Greta Cunningham Grade 6

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BEFORE LONG We are in grave danger. If we don’t act now, there is no question that our lives shall be destroyed, for that fearsome group known as the Auguinox is taking everything from us. They have infiltrated our systems, overused our goods, driven us into near starvation, and tried to cover it up with their “revolutionary” magical advances. Before long . . . Ani put down her quill, uncertain how to finish the statement. Footage of the speech was to be delivered to leaders of every one of Phintasi’s provinces, and yet her brain couldn’t seem to grasp that importance and churn out something powerful. The issue was trying to come up with a different angle for every speech. Where others had spoken of the joys of the days before the Auguinox and the benefits of bringing them down, her latest was intended to remind everyone exactly what was to fear if they did not act. The reason for the speeches was simple. Ani needed to ensure that her subjects remained loyal to her and not her enemies. It was absolutely imperative that she spoke with clarity and assurance, sadly all a mask for the doubts and fears that even she, severe and powerful ruler and savior of her kingdom, faced. Ani resolved to finish her address with some research and departed for the library. On her way out, she was intercepted by a young, trembling servant who handed her a glass vial and ran off before Ani could form her trademark threatening glare. Ani knew by the familiar blue-green glow of the vial that it contained a message from Sotros, her brother. A rare smile graced her regal face as she uncorked the vial and let its contents pour out. The water stayed suspended in the air, a product of its enchantment. After a moment’s pause, it formed a small silhouette of her brother, who then began talking. “Message from Sotros Glysos, Royal Adviser to Queen Anissara Glysos: The word is that you’re planning on removing from servitude the war prisoners and lowest-class subjects. I hate to pass judgment on your decisions, but I don’t think this is the best course of action. Of course they might be Auguinox members, but your advisers also might be assassins sent here to kill you. You have to take into account more than just the population as a whole. I know that you have in mind what’s best for the kingdom, but I have in mind what’s best for the average citizen. Please consider my ideas.” Ani scowled at the water, which was working its way back into the vial she still clutched. The library would have to wait, for there was something much more pressing to do. She turned and stormed back into her chambers where she filled a marble bowl with water, the substance her realm used for magic, and cast several spells on it. Her finished product was seven vials, all with the same red-gold glow, floating in midair and prepared with messages to each of her advisers (one from each province) except for her brother. These messages carried warnings that Sotros was no longer to be trusted and that his membership to her advisory board was to be immediately revoked. He had clearly become a spy for the Auguinox, and the realm’s safety could be totally dependent on him being removed before he learned any valuable information. This was made clear to her as soon as she heard him mention the military prisoners and poor of her kingdom, a tactic the Auguinox was famous for using to gain sympathy. She wasn’t sure whether he’d gone to them of his own will or due to a mind-altering enchantment, but it didn’t really matter. She had to get him out. Saving him, if necessary, would regrettably have to come later. Feeling thoroughly shaken, Ani cast the final spell required to get the vials to turn to vapor and fly off, each in the direction of a different province. They would solidify upon reaching their destinations. With that, she left the room, though the library visit she’d planned was the last of her concerns at the moment. She needed to go to her throne room and sign the decree to which Sotros referred. When it was signed, it would no longer be lawful for anyone to work in her castle without having been born and raised in Phintasi and passed a thorough inspection to ensure that they wouldn’t do anything to harm the realm or her kingdom specifically. It would also make it law that any proven member of the Auguinox would either immediately be banished into exile or receive a lifelong prison sentence. She regretted that it had

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to be done, but there was no way around it that she could see. Her ability to make these tough decisions for the greater good was what had gotten her the title of queen, and she knew that she had to carry through. With her best quill, she wrote out her full title in neat cursive: Queen Anissara Glysos of Phintasi, Junior Head of the Governance of the Realm of Malinex, Ambassadress to the Rural Engialands. A feeling of accomplishment coursed through her as she thought of the purity her castle would soon embody. A long time in the making, that document may have just saved her and her kingdom. Implementation was clearly the next step. A meeting was quickly called of all of her political allies and advisers, and a plan was made to set her decree in motion. First, all of the servants and other employees of the castle were brought, some by use of more force than others, into the throne room. Ani, gazing down with a glare as penetrating as a sword from atop her throne, then began to speak. She read her decree to her subjects, swelling with a sense of pride as well as dread for their response. “No.” Ani had finished her reading and the room had been enveloped in silence until one word was spoken by a girl wearing an untidy blue uniform signifying her status as a war prisoner. The room seemed to close in on the girl in that moment, and she suddenly saw flashes of her future based on that action. She wasn’t the only one to notice her error, though. “Excuse me?” Ani emphasized every syllable as she spoke perfectly calmly, yet somehow managed to instill more fear in her audience with those words than if she’d shouted. “Who would be so tactless as to challenge her queen?” The servant girl gulped, pushed her red hair out of her face, and stepped forward. The crowd parted like the Red Sea when she passed. Upon reaching the front, she proclaimed, “I would.” Ani was slightly taken aback at the girl’s bravery. “Name?” she demanded, for that one word was all that was necessary. The response was a low murmur spreading throughout the throne room and a voice slowly getting more powerful proclaiming, “Serin. I’m Serin, a girl you ordered your troops to capture after you invaded my land. I’m here because of you, and yet you continually give me worse and worse treatment. I refuse to take it any more. Yes, I am in the Auquinox, and you won’t stop me.” At this, she looked slightly sick, as though she knew what would happen but could do nothing to stop it. The queen stood up and slowly but deliberately walked towards Serin, the sound of her boots echoing throughout the wide room. Preferring to use a spell, she pulled from the folds of her pearl-studded, emerald gown a glowing vial similar to the ones she’d had earlier. The spell this one contained was much worse than those, though. As she uncorked it, a rush of water burst out of the tiny space and twisted itself into a dart, which then flew at Serin after a point of Ani’s finger. When it hit its mark as it always did, it encircled the prisoner and slowly froze, trapping her in her position. “Never again,” came the command from the magical sharpshooter, “will you take from the well-being of our kingdom. You are a parasite in that you take all that is good from us and leave us with next to nothing. Your lies have gone on for long enough. You shall be the first example of what happens to members of the Auquinox, but your allies shall meet similar fates. Never underestimate the power of a queen.” With that, she flicked her finger and the girl levitated a few inches off the ground, bobbing behind the queen as she walked out of the room. “Don’t let them leave. Begin the investigations,” she called. “I’ll be dealing with her.” The nightmares Serin’s visions had shown had become her reality. She’d seen the arrow of ice, the frozen cage, and the cell Ani was now shoving her into. It was a cold iron thing, and there was hardly enough space for her to lie down. Ani didn’t think about that, though. She saw a girl who had the potential to ruin everything she’d worked so hard for--what she’d left behind her family and peaceful life in the Rural Engialands to gain--given only an audience to whom to speak.

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During Ani’s moment of contemplation, Serin saw her opportunity to strike. As Ani reminisced, Serin did an act so frowned upon that many forgot it even existed. The durisanti spell was only used when one was ready to give up their most beloved trait in order to save someone else. Serin, fully devoted to her cause, sliced her palm open with her fingernail and over the pooling blood whispered the incantation. Just as Ani noticed what had occurred, the spell went into effect. Suddenly, Serin was freed, and the teenage queen was quite clearly restrained, although her restraints couldn’t be seen, for they were made from wind. Serin made sure her spell had worked by opening her mouth in a scream she knew wouldn’t come—her precious ability to speak was gone. When the dungeons remained silent, Ani was pulled by the remarkably strong wind forward through the maze that was the castle and back to the throne room. She twisted and tried to summon spell after spell, but there was nothing she could do. The manacles would not free her; her only way out would be if the newly freed girl, suddenly not seeming so very different from herself, chose to remove them. In the throne room, Ani watched Serin use the saving powers the durisanti spell had given her to free her people from their own chains and manacles and replace them on their captors. The people used their newfound strength, along with the support of certain disgraced castle members like Ani’s brother to quickly establish control of the kingdom. She noted how important Serin’s voice must have been if its removal granted new strength and power to every oppressed citizen in the castle. This uprising gave way to others in the other provinces, and soon, the girl who had once been queen glowered at her former subjects from a cell of sorts at the back of a stairway, where Serin and other members of the Auguinox were preparing to become the leaders of the kingdom. She listened to a speech that should have been given by Serin, but couldn’t because of her sacrifice. She’d still written it, but it was delivered by another rebel leader. “Today marks the dawning of a new era in which oppression and lies shall be thrown aside. In the past regime, Queen Anissara kept us all held down using fear as her ally. She rose to power through fear, lies, and brutality, and kept it the same way. The future of Phintasi is not built upon these but instead upon justice, truth, and freedom. There shall be no need for secret groups fighting for liberty, no matter whether the leadership portrays them as dangerous thieves or freedom fighters, and there shall be no attacks on people based on their birthplace, class, or anything else unreasonable.” Listening to the list of her faults, Ani began to feel a bit of regret for what she’d done, but she still stood by her belief that it had all been necessary. She was beginning to see the world from their perspective, but there was still no changing the very core of herself. “We shall rule not with force or because we instill fear in others, but because we and others believe that we can do good for our kingdom. The dark days of Phintasi are over and it is liberated from its pains. Magic shall once again be available for free use and not require any substance to make it occur, just as jobs and protection shall be available to all, not just those with money or certain privileges,” continued the orator. Ani slowly stopped listening to the speech, as its accusations cut into her and let only her bones remain untouched. If she’d listened until the end, she would have heard a rather familiar phrasing. “We were in great danger, but we took action, and it has led us to safety. Before long, the help we were granted to break free from our chains will come again to guide us forward. Before long, we will have reached the state of prosperity we had before we fell into war many years ago, before that war was ended with the coronation of a new queen with steely passion to change the way we lived, and before she created an even more broken world. Before long, justice and peace shall be restored.” By Laila Hewitt Grade 7 “Before Long” was inspired by my wanting to experiment with a story in which the protagonist was not the ‘hero’ of the story. It also shows my beliefs about prejudice toward groups and those who will stand up to end it.

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THE GAME IS HALFWAY THROUGH

The game is halfway through. We are playing Saint Thomas Academy and I have the blues.

I am getting in game mode and starting to get mad. I looked in the stands and saw my friend Chad.

He declared I wasn’t doing that bad.

I stole the ball and I felt like a King. I shot the ball with a zing.

It swished. Nothing but net. Just a ding.

Getting back on defense and I am ready to play.

Oh man, oh man, what a day. They score from the elbow and we are down by one.

Four seconds left. That’s not a ton.

Kevin O. throws the ball to me and the bench yells, Shoot it for three.

I am there at the three-point line

but we only need two. What a time!

I jump up in the air. I am livin’ on a prayer.

I am in the air feeling scared. This is very rare.

No problem!

SportsCenter Top Ten!

A Press Conference? When?

I am blinded by the fame, but I also realize it's just a game. Still, so intense...but...then it’s a shame. I suddenly wake up; it's a Sunday morning.

Hockey practice in twenty minutes; I better get going.

By Sam Knapp Grade 7

2016-17 EDITORIAL BOARD OF THE SCRIBE PRODUCTION Mrs. Judy Cody Mrs. Erin Siats Mrs. Judy Cody Mrs. Sally Hopkinson Ms. Jay Korte Ms. Kathy McRae Ms. Katy Lawton Mrs. Barb Thukral Ms. Kathy McRae

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A KING IN THE GULF OF MEXICO Have you ever felt like your arms are going to fall off? Well, I have. Over Christmas break, my grandparents, Mom and Dad, my sister, and I took a kayaking trip in the Gulf of Mexico on Christmas Eve. I know how to kayak because I have been doing it at my cabin for the last couple years. I go out in the kayak by myself a lot, and I spend a lot of time in the lake paddling around, but being in the Gulf of Mexico is much different than kayaking in a lake. In the car on the way to the boat launch I started to feel nervous and a little sick. The thought of being alone in the Gulf was really scary to me. I started to think about what would happen if I got lost or my kayak started to sink and no one was there to help me. I did not want to go kayaking. I didn’t tell anyone about my worries, I just said that I wasn’t feeling well, but my mom figured out that I was nervous. Then the guide called my name. There was no turning back. My kayak was ready to go, so I got in. I relaxed right away when I saw how close my family was going to be to me. I started having fun even though it was a lot more work than kayaking in my lake. As soon as we moved out of the bay, these birds called cormorants came popping out of the water at us. The guide explained that when we paddled our kayaks, it whipped all the muck up and moved the fish around. The birds followed us to eat the fish. Some birds had a couple fish in their mouths at a time. One bird even looked like it was choking on a fish. You could see it sticking out sideways in its throat! The birds followed us all along the bay until we got to the mangroves. In the mangroves we moved very slowly. Mangroves are water trees. Their roots grow in swamps and tide areas. To get to the other side of the bay, we had to kayak through a tunnel of mangroves. It’s very quiet in the mangroves, and because we were moving so slowly, we got to see all kinds of things. Some of the coolest things I saw were mangrove tree crabs, starfish, and really big birds. In the mangroves we got separated from the group. We didn’t know which way to go. We were nervous. Suddenly we heard my grandpa yell, “ANDREW!” We followed his voice out of the mangroves and back to the bay. We kayaked over 17 miles in the Gulf of Mexico. The whole trip took about three hours. My arms and sides hurt so much from paddling. When we were coming back, the guide told us that I was the youngest and smallest person the company has ever had kayak this trip by themselves. This was my proudest moment. By Andrew Jensen Grade 4    

 

     

A SPECIAL THANKS to MRS. JUDY CODY

Eleven years ago, Mrs. Cody had an idea for a literary magazine—The Scribe. Because of her vision, young Nativity writers have a place to shine! Mrs. Cody dedicated countless hours to organizing submissions, reading all entries, meticulously editing, and doing all that she could to promote excellent writing. This 27th volume is her last, but her legacy will live on in the pages of The Scribe.

Thank you, Mrs. Cody!!