young authors booklet - 2013

YO U N G AU T H O R S AWA R D S

P R I X J E U N E S É C R I VA I N S

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Y o u n g A u t h o r s A w a r d sY o u n g A u t h o r s A w a r d s•

YOUNG

AUTHORS AWAR

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PRIX

JEUNES ÉCRIV

AINS

www.oecta.on.ca

YOUNG AUTHORS AWARDS

2013

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PRIX JEU

NES ÉCRIVAINS

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AUTHORS AWAR

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PRIX

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PREFACE

This collection is a celebration of the literary talents and accomplishments ofthe provincial winners of the Ontario English Catholic Teachers’ Association’s 2013Young Author Awards/Prix jeunes écrivains program.

Congratulations to all the provincial winners. The writing selections producedby these young authors remind us that the great Canadian authors of the future arepresently in our classrooms.

We also extend our congratulations to all the thousands of students across theprovince who participated in the classroom, school, and unit levels of the awardsprogram. Everyone’s enthusiasm and hard work ensures that the Young AuthorsAwards/Prix jeunes écrivains program continues to grow and improve each year.We also show appreciation to all the teachers, without whose inspiration andencouragement the students would not have had the opportunity to challengethemselves and experience the competition.

The Young Authors Awards/Prix jeunes écrivains program also would not bepossible without the hard work of many OECTA members across the province.Teachers, OECTA school Association Representatives, Unit Presidents and UnitExecutive members all play a critical role in administering the program in theirrespective classrooms, schools and units. The members contribute their talent,time and effort to preserve the spirit and continued success of the program, and tocelebrate the outstanding work of our teachers and students.

Once again, thank you very much to all the dedicated members of the OntarioEnglish Catholic Teachers’ Association who ensure that the program flourishesyear after year.

Susan Perry Professional Development DepartmentOntario English Catholic Teachers’ Association

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

YOUNG AUTHORS AWARDS/PR IX JEUNES ÉCR IVA INS 2013

Anne Denning Bilingual Editor, Professional Development DepartmentAllison Elliott Administrative Assistant, Professional Development DepartmentDelia Tavares Desktop Publisher, Communications DepartmentWanda Wilcox English Editor, Professional Development Department

PROVINC IAL SELECT ION COMMITTEE 2013

Cynthia Gittens, Co-ChairpersonNancy Molnar, Co-Chairperson

Amanda ForbesLaryssa GoreckiMirela Leopold-MuresanMaria MassarellaCarmen McLeanEmmet MellowTim MignaultTanya MorelliPapy MukengeChristine OtshudiCatherine RossAngela RzazewskiJeanneda SaulnierSou Yen ShuDan SmartKelli SomersKathleen SwanDiana ThomasJennifer Van Trigt

O nce I hiked to a waterfall and I was too scared to jump off. My mom swungme into the air and then I splashed into the water. Now do you want tohear the whole story? Okay, I’ll tell you the story.

It all started on a nice December morning at a beach house in Trinidad. My grandfather gave my family the idea to hike to the waterfall and I thought thewaterfall would not be too high. It took a long time to get there. I had to climbmountains and I had to go in the jungle that had a very muddy path. I fell on themountain once but I got up. I was crying. It was a terrible time. When I got up to the waterfall I was really tired, just like I was when I wrote

this story. Everyone else jumped off it and I was the last one left. I was very, very,very scared. My mom didn’t want me to be left out so she swung me into the airand I did a big giant splash. I felt like I was going to drown but one of my mom’sfriends helped me swim to the rocks so I was safe. I was crying because I was sohappy. The waterfall was very pretty and the water felt cool. I was glad my mom swung

me into the air. It was a long journey and story.

The End.

ElementaryJunior and SeniorKindergarten Short Story

SCHOOL: Notre DameTEACHER: Taryn O’Neill

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Joe PersiaUNIT: Brant Haldimand NorfolkUNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald

by I S A I A H J A S ON E L I OV I T Z

1

WHEN I H IKED TO A WATERFALL

Leprechaun, leprechaun,

Where are you? Where are you?

Are you in my little red shoe?

Are you in the box?

Or are you on the rocks?

I see you hiding over there.

Now I know where.

You’re it!

ElementaryJunior and SeniorKindergarten Poem

SCHOOL: Our Lady of Good CounselTEACHER: Agathe Peters


Agathe PetersUNIT: Eastern Ontario

UNIT PRESIDENT: Barb Dobrowolski

by T HOMA S B R AY

2

LEPRECHAUN

M y dad is a great guy because he loves me. My dad shows mehe loves me by teaching me things and doing fun things withme. He teaches me about music. He teaches me about math.

He helps me with my reading and spelling. I love when my dad helpsme with my video games or makes sandcastles with me when we go tothe beach. My dad respects people by being nice and not being rude. I want to be like my dad and do great things just like him.

Elementary Junior and SeniorKindergarten Nonfiction

SCHOOL: Notre DameTEACHER: Taryn O’Neill


Joe PersiaUNIT: Brant Haldimand NorfolkUNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald

by I S A I A H J A S ON E L I OV I T Z

3

WHY MY DAD IS A GREAT GUY

A thousand years ago, a secret treasure box was hidden within the lands of amagical kingdom called Averj. There were only four people who knewabout it and they were the King’s Knights, who disappeared one strange

day. Nobody knew where the box could be, not even the King of Averj.In a small village just outside Averj’s castle, there lived a farmer’s son by the

name of Jack. Jack was not the strongest or smartest boy and not very populararound the village. He was very nice, helpful, and very imaginative. He was nicebecause he said nice things to people to cheer them up. He was helpful by helpinghis dad feed all the animals on the farm, and he was imaginative because he lovedto draw great pictures.

One day, Jack was playing with one of the dogs on the farm. While theyplayed the dog walked toward him sniffing the ground. He sniffed and sniffed,going around in circles very, very fast. Jack could not figure out what was going on.Suddenly the dog stopped and started digging into the ground. Jack was curious toknow what was there, so he started digging as well. They struggled to dig becausethere were a lot of vines. Jack pulled them all off and it made the digging easier.They dug deeper, deeper, and finally felt something. Jack tried really hard to pull itup and then couldn’t believe his eyes! It was a treasure chest! Jack was so excitedhe took the key and opened it as fast as he could. As the lid came up, a big lightpopped out and that surprised Jack. He took big steps back. He was frightened!Then the light was gone, and there was the spirit of a king.

ElementaryGrades 1 and 2Short Story

SCHOOL: St. KevinTEACHER:Marie Giesen


Jamie MacRuryUNIT: Dufferin-Peel Elementary

UNIT PRESIDENT: David Dolan

by AV E R Y J A E S U N I C O O R DON E Z

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JACK AND THE TREASURE BOX K ING

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“Who are you?” asked Jack. “What do you want from me?”“Jack! I am your real father. You were taken away from me as a young boy by

some deceiving knights so you could not rule this kingdom, but now is your chanceto take it all back.”

Jack was so shocked. He could not believe this.“This can’t be real,” he said to the Spirit King in front of his eyes.“Jack, this is real. Do you know the king who rules your village now? Well, he

is not really a king. He is an evil wizard who used a spell on me, took my crown,and became the new king who is on my throne right now.”

“So the king right now is a wizard,” thought Jack to himself.“You must go to his castle and defeat him so the spell can be reversed and I will

become king again. You will need lots of people to help you defeat him because hehas a powerful army of knights. One more thing: there are lots of people that arecaptured because they walked on his path,” said the Spirit King.

Jack went back to his house where he hid the treasure box under his bed so noone could find it. He ran outside as fast as he could to ask his friends for help. Noneof his friends believed what Jack had to tell them, so he gave up, sad that no friendswould help him. He wondered if the animals would help him, so he went back tohis farm. He stood around them all wishing and hoping for help.

“I wish you could all talk so I would know if you could help me,” Jackwhispered.

“We do! And we have secret powers!” all the animals yelled.“You can talk!” Jack replied, excited. His own dog said to him, “We all have powers. I control water, the lamb has

fire, the horse turns into a giant, the cow has electricity, and everyone else turnsinto a tornado.”

Boy, was Jack surprised! “Well, can you all help me to defeat the evil wizard thathas taken my father’s crown and throne?” All the animals agreed to help.

Jack decided to build armour for all of the animals that were helping him. Hegrabbed all the forks, spoons, and knives he could find to put together into armour.When he was finished, he placed them all on his new team. The animals all listenedto Jack carefully and followed him to Averj’s castle. They walked through villageswith happy villagers, and through dark and scary forests with muddy grounds andbig fallen trees. Jack thought that they would never make it through.

Jack kept going and all the animals followed. Suddenly they saw twoknights, and the horse ran after them. Turning into a giant, he knocked them off

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their horses. There were two knights as guards, so Jack’s dog put water in their suitsand it reached their heads and they drowned. Then the horse knocked down thedoor! The evil wizard was right there!He took a look at Jack and told his knights, “Attack!” Jack yelled “Attack!” to the animals and they charged to attack the wizard. Then

the horse jumped on the wizard and the wizard’s wand broke while he melted away.While he was melting, he tried to grab his wand to fix it, but Jack stepped on himand he was gone.A light was rising from the throne and there sat Jack’s real father! Jack had

forgotten who he was but quickly remembered again. Jack was so happy. The kingand Jack thanked the animals for all their hard work in defeating the evil wizard.As a reward, they would live on a farm beside the castle to be with Jack all the time.The king started ruling the kingdom again. He was with his son, Jack, and there

was no more trouble ever again.

Annoying sisters are like a fly,

They buzz until you are ready to cry.

Sisters stomp, snarl, and shout,

Until you want to rip your hair out.

They can be sassy, mean, and rude,

Full of themselves with attitude.

But sometimes sisters can be fun,

And the best friends to play and run.

Without sisters the world would be small,

Less sunny and no fun at all.

ElementaryGrades 1 and 2Poem

SCHOOL: Our Lady of LaSaletteTEACHER: Carolyn Gec


Rosanna DeRochie/Colleen HaegensUNIT: Brant Haldimand NorfolkUNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald

by C A R T E R DWORN I K I EW I C Z

7

ANNOY ING S ISTERS

O n January 22nd our class went on a trip to Allan Gardens. We

went to learn about plants and soil. When we arrived we went

on a tour of the greenhouse. It was big and very beautiful.

We walked through different sections of plants. The sections are

organized based on where the plants grow in the world. I remember

one section was called “The Mediterranean.” In this section we saw a

lemon tree and an olive tree. My favourite plant of the day was the

pitcher plant, which is a carnivorous plant like a Venus flytrap. These

plants eat their food in a cool way. They can trap bugs and eat them!

In the afternoon we made a soil recipe and planted our own plants.

I planted a marigold and a spider plant. We had a great day at Allan

Gardens!

Elementary Grades 1 and 2Nonfiction

SCHOOL: St. BonifaceTEACHER: Kelly Giza


Cynthia RawanaUNIT: Toronto Elementary

UNIT PRESIDENT: Mario Bernardo

by B I S R AT H A I L E

8

MY CLASS TR IP

It’s more epic than it sounds…

F red was pretty much your average techno-geek. He had a part time job at ahaunted house, but he always brought his laptop to work so he could slackoff when he wanted to, and get any urgent e-mails. He still liked his job,

though. He was the ticket man, so he cashed in money for tickets. He had alsomade lots of friends. But Fred was getting a little bit bored of his life. It was prettymuch wake up, go to work, cash in, ticket out, go home, and go to sleep. He wantedsome excitement, you know, “razzle dazzle,” but he was only a boring old ticketdude.

From time to time, Fred would come to work early to help set up, so he prettymuch knew the grounds like the back of his hand. One day he was checking his e-mail when he found an e-mail that had the word URGENT stamped on the front inbig, bold, red letters. He clicked on it curiously, and it said:

Dear Fred,It is only with great honour that I recruit you for a special mission. So far it sounded

cool, so Fred read on.In the haunted house, there is a reward hidden. “What a great way to spice up my

life!” Fred thought. Excited, he continued.There are going to be many obstacles, but I believe you can do it. Fred started to get

worried. What could the obstacles be?If you choose to go on, I commend you. If you don’t, well, OOGER BOOGER

POOGER!!!


SCHOOL:Mother TeresaTEACHER: Lisa MontevirgenSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Nicole LamotheUNIT: Simcoe Muskoka Elementary

UNIT PRESIDENT: Joe Martone

by R AC H E L B R U C E

9

THE MYSTER IOUS E-MA IL

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Fred thought for a while. If he went, he could die, or get an unknown but greatprize. If he didn’t, well, as the e-mail said, “OOGER BOOGER POOGER!” After about7.2 milliseconds, he made up his mind. He would go. He knew the grounds like the back of his hand, and he really wanted some razzle dazzle! He decided he would embark on his journey early the next morning. He wouldn’t tell anybody, sothey wouldn’t worry as much. He arranged to take the day off, but didn’t tell his family. When he had written all this down in his planner, he finally went to bed.At 10:47 p.m.

Fred woke up, really excited, and leapt out of bed like it was the day before theMayan apocalypse. He ran out the door, quickly but quietly. The run seemed to takeforever, but finally he got to the haunted house. He was really surprised to see abeautiful lady standing in front of it. Since it was 4:37 a.m., he asked her why shewas there. She said her name was Elena, and she was waiting for some guy namedFred.

Elena said, “So, I presume you’re Fred?”“Yes…” Fred answered.“So, what are you waiting for?” Elena asked.“Ummm…what am I waiting for?” Fred said confusedly.“To start your quest!” Elena said exasperatedly, “I am supposed to guide you on

your quest!” She explained that the person who wrote the e-mail had sent her tohelp him. Even though Fred was curious about who sent the email, he wanted toget on with his quest. “Okay then, let’s go!” Fred replied. So they went into thehaunted house and embarked on their adventure.

Fred was curious to know what the dangers were, so he asked Elena. She saidshe didn’t really know. “I only know where you need to go,” she replied. They werewalking past the zombie exhibit when, suddenly, the zombies sprang to life!!! Ittook them a few seconds to recover from the shock…

“What are we going to do?” Fred screamed.“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I have magical powers!” Elena replied as she beamed

up some swords. Hers was silver with a ruby hilt, and Fred’s was gold with anemerald hilt.

“That would’ve been nice to know seventeen seconds ago!!” Fred yelled asElena handed him his sword and said sorry in a really tiny voice. ”Green is myfavourite colour…” Fred said, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

“Let’s show these zombies who’s boss!” Fred and Elena shouted together. Theystarted slashing the zombies. FWOOM! A head flew off. SLASH! An arm flew off.CRASH! Zombies banged against the walls. Finally, all the zombies were finished.

Then, right after they put away their swords, a GIANT SPIDER flew at them!!!Suddenly, it stopped!!! It hovered in mid-air!!!

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“Elena…” Fred stuttered, “What’s happening?” Suddenly, a rock floatedtowards the spider, and banged it repeatedly. The spider dropped unconscious.

“Sorry I couldn’t reply right away,” Elena said, “I have to concentrate whenperforming telekinesis.”

“You can do that??!!” Fred said, stunned.“I told you I had magical powers!” Elena replied, “Now let’s get out of here

before Mr. Spider wakes up!”As they stepped over the spider’s many legs, Fred said, “Thanks. You know, for

saving my life!!”“No prob!!” Elena replied.For a while, it was quiet and awkward. Then when they came to a place that had

a BIG, FAT, UGLY TROLL laying there, Elena broke the silence and said, “I…I…Is-s-sense sommmething…” as if in pain.

“What is it, Elena?” Fred asked worriedly.“I... I think the reward is here!”“Really? All I see is a hideous troll!” Fred said.“I guess it’s guarding the reward,” Elena replied.“We have to get through that–that THING for the reward?” Fred exclaimed.“I’m presuming so…” Elena replied.“Can’t you use some of your hocus pocus to get him out of here?” Fred asked.“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m not supposed to help you in the final battle,”

Elena said. “You have only your sword.”“Well that’s just FLAPTASTIC!!!!” Fred exclaimed.“Well, aren’t you going to go?” Elena asked.“It’s now or never…” Fred said, unsure.“Good luck!” Elena shouted after him.“I’ll need it…” Fred muttered as he walked out of hiding and towards the beast.The troll finally spotted Fred and yelled, “WRROOOGARFFOOORT!!!”“Whatever that means, I don’t like it,” Fred muttered. The troll began to swing

his club aimlessly. “It’s either you or me tonight–hopefully the first choice–buteither way, one of us is going,” Fred yelled. “SO SURRENDER TO MY SWORD, ORI’LL MAKE YOU!!!”

The troll swung his club far above Fred. Fred yelled, “HAHA, YOU MISSED!!!” He didn’t realize that the troll hit the

rocks above, and the rocks crashed down on his leg. Some rocks also fell on the trolland his club, leaving the troll unconscious.

“YEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!” Fred screamed.“Oh…” Elena breathed, “I hope he’s okay…” Fred just lay there for a little

while.

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As he slowly got up, Elena breathed a sigh of relief. Fred had a broken leg, butthe beast was unconscious. He staggered over to the troll, and stuck his sword inits eye.

Suddenly, the troll vanished and a magical amulet took its place. As Fred pickedup the amulet and observed it, Elena rushed towards him. “Oh you made it, butyour leg, and–” suddenly Elena stopped. “You got the amulet…” she continued,“THAT is your reward!!!”

“WOAH!” Fred said, “COOL!!!”“It holds three wishes,” Elena said. “Whatever wishes you want!!!”“Sweet!” Fred replied.“Oh, your leg!” Elena said as she noticed how damaged his leg was. “Here, let

me help.” She laid her hands on his leg. “Sorry if it hurts…” Elena said as Fredwinced in pain. Suddenly, Fred’s leg healed, and all the pain left him.

“Thanks,” Fred muttered.“Well, I’ll make a portal so that you can get home safe and sound, but in the

meantime, I really must be going…” Elena said.“You’re not staying?” Fred stammered.“Good-bye, Fred,” Elena said mournfully.“NO!! Wait! I just wanted to say”–and Elena vanished–“thanks for everything.”Fred felt a tear roll down his cheek as he touched the emerald hilt of his sword.

Then he grabbed the amulet.“Any wish…” Fred said thoughtfully.

Ten Years Later…

“Daddy, Daddy, tell me the story of how you met Mommy!!!”“Okay, Andrew…” Fred laughed as he sat down with his family. “It all started

when I got a mysterious e-mail at work…”

I am the bystander.I wonder if my help will do any good.I hear him being picked on.I see a problem.I want to help.I am the bystander.

I pretend I do not see the problem.I feel fear rushing down my veins.I touch the air that has mean words floating in it.I worry that someone’s going to get hurt.I cry because I want to help but I can’t.I am the bystander.

I understand that bullying should stop.I say that I am not afraid of the bully.I dream that I help him.I try to be brave and help.I hope that one day bullying stops.I am the bystander.

Elementary Grades 3 and 4Poem

SCHOOL: St. John’sTEACHER: Nancy Santos


Suzanne JohnsonUNIT: Waterloo

UNIT PRESIDENT:Michael Devoy

by A A L I YA H NO R R I S

13

I AM

W hen you think about a hospital, you often think of needles, surgery, pain and other scary things. But there are many programs atthe London Children’s Hospital that help to make life a little bit

better for all the kids.You may ask, “How is the Children’s Hospital different from the hospitals you

see every day?” Well… let’s just say that there is a crazy clown roaming around thehalls of the hospital. The clown’s name is Ollie, and he does some pretty wackythings to make children laugh. Ollie is part of the Therapeutic Clown program. Thesaying for this program is, “laughter is the best medicine.” So that’s what Ollie’s jobis–to make people laugh.

Ollie tells jokes. He shoots elastics, and once almost hit me in the behind!Sometimes he squirts water at the kids. I remember the time he dumped water onmy cousin. Once my mom went to the washroom, and he criss-crossed duct tapeacross the door frame, and she couldn’t get out. It was so funny, I laughed the wholeride home!

Ollie steals rubber gloves from the nurses and uses them for balloons.Sometimes he fills them with water and tosses them around with the kids. I haven’tseen one burst yet–I’m still waiting. Ollie has taught me some very valuable skills,one in particular that uses a straw, your arm pit and some air. Let’s just say, I usethis skill and then blame it on the dog.


SCHOOL: Our Lady of LaSaletteTEACHER: Rosanna DeRochieSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Rosanna DeRochie/Colleen HaegensUNIT: Brant Haldimand NorfolkUNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald

by A B B Y S P R I N G H AM

14

LONDON CH ILDREN’S HOSP ITAL

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Kids can also get involved in the Child Life program, which helps them getthrough tough times and makes them feel good. This program organizes funactivities for the children, like the time when a few players from the LondonKnights hockey team came to visit at the hospital. Another time they invited thegroup called Kids Kicking Cancer to come teach karate. There are also some reallyfun games to play, like Connect Four, and glow in the dark games.

When kids are going through tough times, the Child Life workers will talk tothem to distract and comfort them so they don’t think about what is happening.The Child Life workers will tell them what the surgeon will be doing to them andthey will even tell them what they might go through, anything to help them feelbetter. They also sit with the kids while they are getting tests done so they aren’t sostressed out.

Another cool program at the hospital is the Bravery Beads program. Thisprogram allows kids to collect beads that represent their different treatments. Thisis usually done by children visiting the hospital for a long time… like kids withcancer. They are given a necklace with their name on it and then every time theyhave a test, medicine, or a procedure, they get a certain bead to add to theirnecklace. This necklace helps them to tell the story of their time in the hospital.There is also a program for siblings.

The art therapy program is one of my favourites. Art therapy is where kidsmake art to help them express their feelings. When you’re at art therapy, there areso many things to do. There is clay to play with, there are masks, boxes, and bobbleheads to paint, bracelets to bead, pictures to make, and way more. When you go toart therapy, there are always so many nice kids creating art. Art therapy alwaysmakes kids happy.

Hopefully you now know more about the London Children’s Hospital and thedifferent activities and programs they have. If you have a sibling or friend in thehospital like I do, maybe you can think of taking some of these programs withthem. Maybe you can even meet our crazy friend Ollie or a few of the players fromthe London Knights!

T he cold Arctic air felt sharp as I inhaled deeply, and it sent chills up myspine. As I looked out over the water my heart swelled. There was a giantsplash followed by a huge black figure looming out of the Arctic water.

This was, in fact, the tail of a bowhead whale, but not just any bowhead whale. It was Atka!

Atka is the oldest, most respected whale gracing the waters of Cape Dorset, abeautiful Inuit community on the southern tip of Baffin Island. The communityhad named this majestic creature “Atka,” meaning “guardian spirit,” in hopes thatshe would protect Cape Dorset and all of its people for as long as she lived.

I could hear Atka’s whistling as her tail glided smoothly back into the water. She was as free and happy as any whale could be, but only months earlier this hadseemed nearly impossible.

Atka is not only the oldest whale in Cape Dorset, she is also the largestbowhead whale recorded on Baffin Island! Whale hunters all around Nunavut hadheard of Atka and her legendary size. Each of them wanted to have Atka as theirprize, for she would be quite valuable for her blubber, bones, meat and baleen. Themayor of Cape Dorset had passed laws prohibiting the hunting of bowhead whalesin the region. Then sadly, about three months back, the mayor passed away and hissuccessor, Mayor Akiak, lifted the ban on bowhead whale hunting. He felt he hadto do this because he wanted to please all of the residents of Cape Dorset, whichincluded the hunters who were pressuring him to make this decision.


SCHOOL: Holy RosaryTEACHER: Les Robelek


Les RobelekUNIT:Waterloo


by S AM AN T H A PA R SON S

16

GUARDIAN OF THE WHALES

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Not long after this law had been lifted, the hunters’ ships were swarming in thewaters off the coast of Cape Dorset, searching for the mighty whale! The residentsof the community were enraged with the new laws and deeply worried for Atka andthe other bowhead whales. Though I was worried too, I knew that I had to havefaith in Atka’s wisdom. Surely she could escape the hunters!

About two weeks after the law had been lifted, the rumour around town wasthat one of the hunters had caught Atka! It was said that the mighty whale wouldbe towed close to shore so the hunters could show off their trophy before she waskilled!

My heart pounded thunderously; they couldn’t kill Atka, they just couldn’t! I raced down to the harbour where most of the community had already gathered.Children were crying, while the adults shook their heads in disbelief and disgust asthe hunters towed their trophy around the harbour. As Atka was towed past me, I could see the fear and defeat in her eyes, and I knew in my heart she had given up.

“STOP!” I shouted, stepping out into the middle of the crowd. Everyone turnedto look at me, including the hunters on the boat. I was not going to give up on Atka.“You can’t kill Atka. She’s part of our community, our protector, and a part of whowe are!”

Through my tears I noticed that Mayor Akiak was hanging back from the crowdlooking ashamed, but also sad. “Are you really just going to stand there and watchher die? You need to do something! You have a responsibility as mayor to do whatis right and just!” I yelled at him. Everyone watched him expectantly because hehad the power to save Atka. Suddenly, Mayor Akiak stepped out in the middle ofthe crowd and moved hesitantly toward the pier where the hunters could hear him.

“I have made a terrible mistake, everyone, and I am very sorry! When I firstbecame mayor, I gave in to the pressure from our hunters, wanting to pleaseeveryone in town, but I can fix that! I hereby put the ban on hunting bowheadwhales back in place and demand Atka be released immediately!” said the Mayor.

The crowd cheered as the reluctant hunters let Atka go! She didn’t swim awayas everyone expected her to, but swam around the harbour blowing water in the airand splashing her tail. It was as if she knew that the community had come to herrescue and she let them know she was happy and thankful.

That night the community celebrated and praised my courage for coming toAtka’s aid. In the weeks that followed, I became known as “Iluak,” meaning “personwho does good.” The community said that I would be forever known in Cape Dorsetas Iluak, Guardian of the Whales!

You are the fishing line inthe ice cold water

and the deer in the forestYou are the long ride from the snow to the grass

and you will always be the stars inthe dark night sky.

However, you are not the smoke from the cigar

or the clenched fistYou are not the animal in pain

and you are certainly not the harsh voice.

You are the laugh until you cryand the reassuring hugYou are the necklace

but most of all you will always be the stars in the dark night sky.


SCHOOL: Notre DameTEACHER: Nick Meloche


Corinne KalistchukUNIT: Bruce-Grey ElementaryUNIT PRESIDENT: Anna Morrison

by C E L I A G I R O UA R D

18

L ITANY FOR DAD

M y biography subject was a doctor, father, teacher and college dropout.My biography subject is “The Unknown Soldier,” who represents allpeople who died fighting wars for Canada whose bodies have never been

found. The body of Canada’s Unknown Soldier lies not just in Ottawa, but all overthe world. The purpose of this biography is not just to educate you about theUnknown Soldier, but about the wars and the people who fought for us.

ChildhoodHe was a soldier in World War One. He died fighting for his country at Vimy

Ridge, alongside over 10,000 others. He was a small boy, no more than ten whenthe fire broke out. Toronto’s Great Fire killed none but affected many. Heremembered almost all of it, his father fighting the fire, suffering third degreeburns, and him sneaking alongside. He can remember endless smoke billowing outfrom the site for what seemed like forever. When the smoke stopped, he knew thathe wanted to help Canada, just like his father helped Toronto. Later that year, theOlympics brought hope. Canada’s ranking fourth highest in numbers of medalsmade him proud. He wanted to be strong, just like the athletes, just like his father.

Adult LifeHe was a soldier in World War Two. He died on D-Day storming Juno Beach,

battling the Germans for Canada. He was a young man, no more than nineteen andcelebrating his first anniversary when he decided to enlist in the forces. He wouldleave one baby daughter, one factory job and lots of memories at home. His

ElementaryGrades 5 and 6Nonfiction

SCHOOL: Queen of HeavenTEACHER:Michelle FalcioniSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Ernie ArduiniUNIT: Dufferin-Peel Elementary


by C A L E I G H C H AM B E R S

19

THE UNKNOWN SOLD IER

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daughter would grow up never knowing her father. Even before the war hit, theirsmall family wasn’t the richest, but after he left, things really fell apart. Hisdaughter almost starved because there wasn’t enough food to go around. Evenwhen his wife enlisted for what had been a man’s job, they struggled. How couldthis family live without food, without money, and without knowing whether theirfather or husband was safe?

EducationHe was a pilot in the Gulf War. He died when his plane was shot down, fighting

for Canada against Iraq. He was never good in school. He was held back once, fromGrade Nine to Grade Ten. After that, he thought he would never amount toanything. But he learned to work harder and to believe in himself. He ended upmaking it into college to study math. About halfway through his college years,when he was twenty-one, the Gulf War broke out. He wanted to help, so hevolunteered to fight in the Air Force, and trained for a few months. After histraining was done, he was asked to become an army pilot, and right then and there,he was forced to make the biggest decision of his whole life. Should he serve hiscountry and leave college early? Or should he continue with his education andwaste those months spent training? After some soul-searching, he finally decidedto serve in the war. He chose dying for his country over living and continuing hisjourney in college.

War YearsHe was a doctor in the war in Afghanistan. When his hospital was bombed, he

died helping to heal people who were fighting for Canada. He always said,“Nothing can set me back.” For him that quote was very important, as he had lostuse of his right leg at a young age. He wanted to work as someone who could helpothers, so he became a doctor. For years he was a great doctor who helped manysick and injured people. Then he heard about the war in Afghanistan. He heard thatmany soldiers died because they lacked proper health care. So he volunteered tobecome a war doctor. It was a great experience for him. He helped people with life-threatening injuries and saved them from the brink of death. That’s what he wasdoing when the bomb hit: saving someone else’s life, when his was just about toend.

Major AchievementsHe was a naval soldier in the Iraq War. He died rescuing others when his ship

was shot at and caught on fire. He always loved ships. As a child he put togethermodels, drew pictures, and dreamed that one day he might own a ship. As he grew

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older, he learned about the navy and wanted to join. That became his life goal. Assoon as he was old enough to join, he went and signed himself up. He was assignedto a battleship. He was patrolling near Faw, a city in Iraq near a large body of water,when an enemy ship spotted them and began shooting at the ship. The bullets hitand started a fire. He was just about to evacuate, when he stopped and thought,“There are other soldier who do not know about the fire.” He went back, past theflames, to where the other soldiers were. He shouted that there was a fire and toldthem to evacuate. His fellow soldiers listened and left. He quickly repeated thiswherever he knew there were soldiers and, when he was sure everyone was safe,went to the lifeboats. But he couldn’t reach them. The flames were too big. Therewas too much smoke. He looked around frantically for another exit, but therewasn’t one. All he could do was stand. Stand and be enveloped in the flames. That’show he earned the Distinguished Service Medal, for extreme courage and the willto help others.

After reading this, I hope you understand that these people all gave the ultimatesacrifice, in exchange for nothing. They died for Canada out of the kindness of theirhearts. I also hope you understand that all these people represent everybody whodied in the war. It could have been anyone’s childhood, family, or war story youread about. Anyone could have witnessed Toronto’s Great Fire, grown up and hadtwo kids, gone to college and dropped out, become a doctor, or earned theDistinguished Service Medal. It doesn’t matter who they were, what matters is thattheir heart was in the right place.

I sit back and enjoy the rumble as the twelve-seater plane–packed tocapacity–speeds up, faster and faster, nearing the end of the runway. I lookout the window, earbuds blaring my favourite song into my head as I watch

the tarmac fly by. I always love takeoff, especially when I’m listening to music. It just adds to the whole endorphin-pumping experience.

I can’t wait to escape the cold ice-trap of northern Quebec in the dead of thewinter, and wake up sweating in Cuba instead of shivering in Canada. We’ve beensnowed in most of the winter so I couldn’t get to school much, which also means I couldn’t try out for the basketball team. Absolute bummer.

My little brother Aaron reaches out to grab my hand, as always, terrified at theprospect of flying. I smack it away, who needs a vice grip grabbing you when you’rehaving an adrenalin rush?

“Come on, Katherine,” he whines in his high-pitched ten-year-old voice. “I’m terrified here. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach.”

“Seriously–butterflies?” I reply. “Man up.” I blare my music even louder anddrown out his response, along with those of my parents. “Sorry, can’t hear you,” I inform my mom as she says something dumb.

I close my eyes as the plane hits its maximum land speed, seconds fromtakeoff... and suddenly everything is chaos. My eyes snap wide open. The plane hassped past the end of the runway, bumping violently over a large expanse ofpermafrost and is starting to skid sideways.

Elementary Grades 7 and 8Short Story

SCHOOL: St. Ignatius of LoyolaTEACHER: Tanya Murphy


Roberta CasagrandeUNIT:Wellington

UNIT PRESIDENT: Jim Whitechurch

by J U L I A M LOD Z I K

22

BUTTERFL IES

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I feel like I should react as one of the wheels catches and sends my headsmashing into the window, but I can’t. I hear Aaron scream, and as the plane tiltssideways the wing breaks just outside my window. Aaron and my mom fall towardsme as gravity pulls us down and suddenly I’m upside down, my neck being jerkedevery which way. The plane is rolling, both wings torn off.

My seatbelt comes loose and suddenly I’m tumbling over the seats. My backhits something hard and my left hand gets caught somewhere, sending searing paindown it. I scream in pain, in fear, in so many things, and feel tears sting my eyes,blurring my vision. Where’s my family? In a panic, I swing my neck around, lookingeverywhere to find them. What just happened, I–

Then, suddenly, I feel numb. I can’t move. I can’t move my head, or even myeyes in their sockets. I can hear yelling and my music is still on. Then my mind goesblank and I slip away.

~ ~ ~

I hear noises, faintly again, but close. A man murmuring, metal screeching asit’s broken, sirens in the background. I feel an uncomfortable drip down the backof my throat... blood?

Before I can begin to wonder what happened, the shapes, too blurred to see,move ahead of me until I can tell they’re right in front of me. I feel a detachedjostling and the background blurs as well. People are pulling at me. My bodyscreams in agony but I can’t move. Stop! I want to yell at the people carrying me,because it just hurts so much. I feel like I’m on fire.

Suddenly everything grows bright and I see blue and red flashing lights,practically pulsing in time to the pain in my body that just... keeps... growing.

Just when I think that my threshold for pain cannot be pushed further, I feel my consciousness slipping. And I let it because I can’t take it anymore.

~ ~ ~

“I don’t know how much good an operation will do, even if we were to succeed,sir,” an apologetic voice says.What? I think, I can hear but my eyes are closed–and I can’t open them.

Where am I?“I don’t care!” yells a familiar voice. My uncle Michael! He’s here! “You are

obligated to do everything you can to save her! Even if that means using a chestdrain!”

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Wait...WHAT? I’ve heard about that, we’re covering it in Science. I can’t be sure,but I think that’s when they stick a tube into your lungs. I begin to panic, and tryto take deep breaths. But I can’t, which makes me panic even more. A stabbing painin my chest takes my breath away.

I can’t breathe.No, I can breathe. I don’t need a tube, don’t want one.“Sir, we can’t be certain it will help her. It may just cause her more pain than

necessary...” A sympathetic voice trails off. I don’t understand what he means. Morepain than necessary? I feel a cold hand of fear creep up my back, though I stillcouldn’t move if my life depended on it.I’m going to die.This sentence hits me like a sack of bricks, though it’s always been there.

I’ve just never thought about it. I mean, I’m fourteen! This wasn’t supposed to besomething to think about until I’m a hundred and nine!

I don’t hear the next bit, but suddenly my uncle’s voice is gone and I want to cryout for him to come back. I don’t think I’m capable of that, even with the pain gonefrom by body. Hey, I hadn’t even noticed. The conversation had completelydistracted me. Is that good or bad?

Does it mean the life is leaving my body?I don’t have time to think before I feel the ground beneath my body begin to

move, accompanied by a squeaking noise. I realize I must be on a portable bed, likethose they use in hospitals. Oh, duh. I’m probably in a hospital.

I hear the man who was talking to my uncle bark a command, “Hey, Adams!This is Katherine Juliet, from that plane crash in Quebec, eight dead. She’s in badshape, damaged back, amputated hand, and liquid-filled lungs. Her uncle, who isnow her legal guardian, has demanded a surgery in hopes of restoring breathingabilities, which needs to be done now. I can send you the details later. Can you geta group together and start sometime today?”

The only response to this speech is a brief “Yes sir,” but it leaves my headbuzzing with questions.Eight are dead? My hand has been amputated? Like, cut off?Why is Uncle Michael my legal guardian now?Oh, God. My parents are dead.This hits me almost as hard as the revelation that I’m going to die. I can’t

believe it. I can’t breathe, and I can’t believe it. What about Aaron? Is he alright? I feel my heart, already overworked, thud harder in my chest. The most terrifyingpart is that I can sense it, though I can’t actually feel it.

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All I feel is... numb.This has to be a dream, I think, listening to the surgeons speak to each other,

nattering about things: saline drips and hydration levels and blood pressure andother things I don’t understand. But hearing everything, even the sickening wetnoises, makes my imagination twist in strange ways. Or maybe it’s not myimagination. Maybe it’s a deeper part of me that truly knows what’s going on in mybody, and all the things that I cannot see.

I’m alone now and I feel pain in my chest. Maybe the drugs are running out. Then I hear a door being opened and shut quietly, and I’m irrationally filled withfear, thinking it’s the surgeons, come back for more. But I’m wrong, because notlong after, I hear a murmuring voice, deep and familiar. I realize that it’s my uncleagain. I strain until I make out barely breathed words from somewhere to my right.

“I know you have no reason to, but please save her, she can’t die, I won’t be ableto take it.” There’s a long pause, is he... praying? “And... please take good care of mybrother up there, Émile.”Is he praying? I wonder again, awed. The mention of my father’s name hurts

badly, but the shock of a prayer blows it pretty far out of the water. My family neverreally concerned themselves with religion, or God at all. Now that I think about it,I had barely ever heard a thing at all about the Big Guy, so it’s pretty surprising thatUncle Michael was actually praying on my behalf. More than surprising: weird.

Then he starts talking to me, and I don’t know how to hold up my emotionsbecause I can’t move.

“You’ve always been a good kid, Katty.” My pet name. “Ever since you were ababy. You barely cried as an infant.” He pauses. I feel like I’m going to explode withsadness.

“You know, your mom was actually becoming worried about you, since youstarted becoming a teenager. She kept telling me she was afraid you would dosomething crazy. You kept yelling about how much you hated living with them andthat you couldn’t wait to move out. She was also worried about how much musicyou listened to all the time, even while talking to her. You started wearing makeupand kissing boys and she was so scared something would happen to you, somethingyou could never undo.”

“I’m not saying all this because I agree, but I think you should hear it. I mean, I hope that you can hear this. I read up about it, they say it can happensometime. The other survivors are here too, and let me tell you, you look ten timesbetter than them.”

26

He pauses again.“You know that you were in a plane crash, right? Well...” A long pause. “Eight

people died in the crash and one since we got here. And... two of those people wereyour parents.”

Just as painful as the first time I heard it.“I’m so sorry honey, but I promise that if... when... you come back, I’ll take

good care of you. And Aaron’s here.” But he doesn’t say how Aaron is. ”But you haveto promise to come back.”

Then, slowly, he leaves.~ ~ ~

I want to cry so much. Why can’t I cry? I just want to get up. I just want to live.I want to hug my uncle and cry into his shoulder until there’s nothing left, but I can’t get up. I may never get up again. That thought hurts me so much, I can’t evendescribe it.

I feel the air scraping through my lungs like steel wool. My throat is dry, andthe pain has come back far worse than before. I can feel the tube they put in mychest.Why was it me? Why did I live–if you can call this living? Why? Is there even a

reason? Just dumb luck? So many questions with no answers.Suddenly, a rapid beeping fills the room. It’s different from the steady pulse

I’ve heard since I got here. I go cold with fear. The door opens and I hear muffledvoices, panicked. One asks about the patient next to me and they quickly determinethat her heart has gone haywire. I hear soft thuds... CPR? Maybe, but the heart keeps beating so inconsistently that I can tell it’s not working, whatever they’redoing.

Suddenly, the rapid beeping becomes a high steady tone. I hear someone curseand a call for an AED, whatever that is. Then, a sudden zapping noise. Silence. ButI can’t understand. What’s happened? Am I next?

Another zap, and another, until I can’t keep track anymore. Then swearing andthe sound of something being rolled out. The patient’s bed, I think. Still chilled, and scared out of my mind. Ten, I think. Ten dead.

~ ~ ~

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days passdreams and reality slur and i begin to slipi don’t know what’s going onuncle michael is herei thinki don’t know anymorehe is sadwhy is he sadthe beeping is backwho will it take nowthe beepingmy heart beats fasterandfasterandfaster ZAPLight. Pain. Awareness.

My jumbled thoughts retreat just enough for coherent ones to form.But I still can’t breathe, my heart still races.This is it, I think numbly. I’m dying.

I’ve said this to myself before, but it only registers now that it’s actuallyhappening. I’m dying. If I’d had another chance, I would have done so muchdifferently. I would’ve spent more time with my parents. I wouldn’t have giventhem so much attitude. I’d have tried harder, been a better student, gotten into agood college and figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I could have madea difference.

I would have held my brother’s hand on the plane.But now I’ll never have a chance to do that kind of thing.I didn’t do anything right.ZAPI feel myself breathe. Again. And again.In, out, in, out.

~ ~ ~

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I sit on a large rock in the small garden attached to the east wing of the hospital,throwing the red ball up and down, up and down, and catching it. The doctors sayit will exercise the fine motor control in my fingers and improve my reflexes. Ofcourse, I can only do this with my right hand, since my left is gone. It still seemslike child’s play.Will someone just get me a basketball to practise with? I think. But no, a basketball

is so big and hard that it might “hurt me.” Oh, well. Bouncy rubber ball it is.I have to stay in the hospital another three days so the doctors can watch me,

and I’ll be counting the days on my fingers. Anything is better than this dull,predictable hospital. Well, almost anything. I really shouldn’t be complaining aboutthe doctors. I mean, they saved my life. They practically brought me back from thedead, so of course I owe everything to them. Because of them, I can see thisbeautiful garden in front of me, with all of its flowers and blossoms and trees. I can’thelp but hate them too, of course. I mean, they couldn’t save my mother or fatherbecause they died in the crash, so I can forgive that. But they had more time withAaron, and they didn’t save him. I feel warm tears streak down my face, my visionblurring with them. I loved them, I think. I face upward. I love you.

I’m so immersed in this thought that I don’t hear the quiet approach ofsomeone until he sits beside me. I almost start, but then realize who it is.

“Hi, Uncle Michael,” I say, wiping tears out of my eyes so he can’t see them,even though I know it’s too late.

“Hey, Katty,” he says, putting his broad arm around my shoulders and pullingme into a half-hug. “Why are you crying? Well, stupid question, never mind.Rephrase. Do you want to talk?” I pause. Of course, he can’t bring back my parents,but he can answer a question.

“I have to ask you something.”“Shoot.”“In the hospital, you were visiting me, right?” He doesn’t really answer, just

mutely nods, looking somewhere between shocked and scared.“Were you praying?” Nods again.“I thought you weren’t religious.”He looks... peculiar, for a second. Then he says, “I didn’t either. But I figured

it was worth a shot, even if it seemed farfetched at the time. I got to thinking, ‘Hey if there’s the slightest chance it will bring my Katty back, why not?’”

“Hmm...” I say, thinking only that I love my uncle so much, and that I’m so gladhe’s here.

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“You heard me?” he asks, bewildered.Oh yeah, that... “I heard everything.”“Oh... I’m sorry.”I don’t have to ask why. He’s sorry that I had to know my death was coming, had

to hear him in such a desperate state, had to hear the other patients while theyscreamed in pain and when they were finally wheeled out as hollow corpses.

I’m still having difficulty comprehending that I am the sole survivor of a planecrash. It’s incredible. A miracle. Well, a miracle that I lived, that is. There may be areason, or maybe there’s not, but either way, I feel incredibly blessed. Every time I open my eyes from sleep, I practically cry at the beauty of sight, and life.

I look out at the butterflies hovering over the flowers and think, I’m just likethem. They were once ugly, shivering creatures, considered no more beautiful thanslugs. Then they were trapped in cocoons, unable to emerge until their time, butwhen they did, they were beautiful creatures. The world they left behind was bleakand hopeless, but somehow, they emerged into a world of blessings and reverence.

In spite of the transformation I’ve gone through, I wish I could retrace my stepsand redo the first fourteen years of my life with this kind of perspective. I can’t, andthat’s partially my fault. But I’ve been given a second chance, and this time, I’ll bebetter. It’s too late to be nicer to my parents, but I can try to bring joy to UncleMichael’s life. I can still pursue a dream, and good grades as well. Actually, thiswhole experience has left me wanting to become a doctor.

I can’t hold Aaron’s hand, and this might be the hardest thing, but I can holdthe hands of other children down the road. Maybe even the hand of my own child.

I don’t have yesterday, but I still have tomorrow.I reach down and take Uncle Michael’s hand and whisper so quietly that he

can’t hear.“I still have tomorrow.”

I sit here and think

Seconds pass without a blink

Next I hear, “A penny for your thoughts”

I reply, “You’ll regret what you just bought”

Yet I told you my story

Without the ending known, I say sorry

For whatever troubles my future brings

For if I could, I’d go through life with some puppet strings

I worry for the uncertainty of the future and what with it I will make

For we all know that life is no piece of cake

I want to make you proud, Mama

Pay you back for all my stupid drama

I know loving me is not so easy

And all the no’s to your questions not so breezy

I’m sorry for the times I brought tears to your eyes

For all those time we couldn’t compromise

Not showing any gratitude

Just a bunch of unnecessary attitude

I apologize for the times I wished you’d disappear

That was when I was clueless and nothing yet clear


SCHOOL: Holy TrinityTEACHER: Trina Larose


Cecilia DiFeliceUNIT: Ottawa

UNIT PRESIDENT: Elaine McMahon

by R I M M E L A K E Z E G H A I

30

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

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For you were there for everything

When in my life I thought of you as just another thing

Still you were there when I put you below everything

I hurt you and forgot you were like me, a human being

You gave me the opposite of nothing

And that is you

So I’d like to say thank you

You introduced me to the feeling of love

Glad I came into your loving hands from above

As I tell you this you have tears in your eyes

But I reassure you that with you by my side all the worry in me dies

Mama, I just don’t want to disappoint you

You’re always there for me, no matter what I do

Together through our troubles we came through

Together in our hearts we made love brew

Together and forever as two

By my side always there to turn to

There’s this expectation of me I want to live up to

And I won’t stop till I reach the top till I hear the words

“I’m proud of you”

It feels good to get it off my chest

Now that I’ve confessed

So there you have them, my thoughts

A penny well spent

I hope you don’t regret what you just bought

SUMMARYThere is a dream of a perfect world. At least, for all the children who callthemselves the eldest in their family. It would be a world of fairness and peace. It would be a world where the younger children get in trouble.

CASTOLIVER BROWN – Older brother (Played by a twelve or thirteen-year-old male)SCARLET BROWN – Younger sister (Played by an eight or nine-year-old female)JUDGE MCCRERY (Played by a mature looking teen)JURY (Played by the audience)

FIRST CLIP(A courthouse with the stands full of paparazzi and other onlookers. At the stands,OLIVER, the older sibling, is standing trial against SCARLET, his younger, innocentlooking sister. The JUDGE is at his/her stand. All are talking amongst themselves.)

JUDGE: Order, order in this court.

(All cease talking.)

ElementaryGrades 7 and 8Play

SCHOOL: St. Joseph CatholicFrench Immersion CentreTEACHER: Amanda O’ReillySCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Andrée CoutuUNIT: Peterborough, VNC

UNIT PRESIDENT: Dean Spence

by Z AC H A R Y J O H N Z A HORODN Y S M I T H

32

A PERFECT WORLD

33

JUDGE: I will now present the charges. Mr. Oliver Brown has beencharged with breaking his mother’s vase. When accused,he pleaded not guilty and pointed the blame at hisyounger sister, Ms. Scarlet Brown. Today we areassembled to hear each side of the story and to have ourhonourable jury make a decision on who shall receive thesentence of two weeks grounding. To start, let us hear theaccount of Mr. Brown.

OLIVER: Well, as most of you are aware, it all started one Saturdayafternoon...

SECOND CLIP(Flashback. Use lighting to create a mystical feel. A dining room with a table in themiddle, large vase on top, couch in the corner. OLIVER is on the couch, reading, withhomework out in front of him. SCARLET is running around the table with her doll andtoy horse. A voice recording of Oliver is used to narrate this scene.)

OLIVER: (Recorded) I was just reading my book, doing myhomework, and being the good kid I am. My sister, on theother hand, was acting like a hooligan, running aroundthe table.

OLIVER: Scarlet, what are you doing? You know mother’s rulesabout running on this level. If you continue, you willknock something over.

SCARLET: Mind your own business, Oliver. I will run if I want to. Ma will never know and I’m being careful. Nothing badwill happen.

OLIVER: (Recorded) And so she continued. She went around andaround. Until...

OLIVER: Scarlet, stop! You’re going to break something!

SCARLET: Stop being a worrywart. I do this all the time! (Bang!)

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OLIVER: (Recorded) And she hit the table, bumping the chairsagainst each other and the vase. Time seemed to slow, as itwobbled and fell right off the table, hitting the groundwith an ear-splitting crack.

ALL: Nooooooooo!

(Seconds pass as they take in what has happened, and are interrupted by...)

MOTHER: (Offstage) I’m home!

THIRD CLIP(Return to courtroom.)

JUDGE: (Standing) Thank you, Mr. Oliver, you may take your seat.Now we shall hear from Ms. Scarlet Jones.

SCARLET: (Using big puppy eyes) Well, I didn’t do it, and this is whatreally happened.

FOURTH CLIP(Same setting as second clip. OLIVER is throwing a ball at the wall and catching it,right next to the vase. SCARLET is playing with her dolls on the couch. SCARLET ismurmuring to her dolls, OLIVER is murmuring to himself.)

SCARLET: Oliver, you’re going to break something with that ball, andMommy says that we can’t throw them up here anyways.

OLIVER: Nu-uh.

SCARLET: Oliver–(Interrupted by the ball smashing the vase.)

OLIVER: No! This is your fault, you distracted me! I...(Interrupted by...)

MOTHER: (Offstage) I’m home!

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FIFTH CLIP(Return to courtroom.)

JUDGE: Thank you, Ms. Scarlet, please take your seat. Now thatwe have heard from both the defendants, our jury willmake a decision on who will receive the sentence. Any lastwords?

OLIVER: (Standing, looking at the crowd) Don’t let the puppy eyesfool you.

(JUDGE walks to the edge of the stage and polls the audience to decide the verdict, vialoudest applause, show of hands, etc. Once there is a decision, tailor a premade propaccordingly. E.g., a bristol board that looks like a newspaper, with a headline of “PuppyEyes Win Again” or “Justice Is Served.”)

SIXTH CLIP(Return to courtroom. Prop is offstage, ready to be rolled out once the conviction hasbeen made.)

JUDGE: (Standing) Now that our honourable jury has made theirdecision, Ms. Scarlet/Mr. Oliver (whomever lost the vote) ishereby sentenced to two weeks grounding, as he/she hasbeen found guilty of breaking his/her mother’s vase.

(Roll out prop. Celebration from side of the court that wins, tears and looks of disbelieffrom the side that loses.)

T he blinding sun stung my eyes as I walked down my aged street. The Lefebvres are coming for pizza tonight, I thought, with a surge ofexcitement. The Lefebvres are friends of my family. They are very close to

us, we actually call them our cousins.I finally arrived in front of my home. I hiked across my worn-out driveway,

my hair attacking my face. Brushing it out of the way, I climbed up the blue stepsto my elderly, red bricked house. My bag was intensely heavy, and it felt as if I werecarrying a sumo wrestler on my back. I unlocked and opened the front door withease and was pleasantly surprised by a joyful greeting from my family’s cherishedcompanion, our dog Molly. She leapt up and licked my face as I dumped my schoolbag on the floor with great relief.

As soon as I put away my jacket and shoes, I let Molly out back into thechilly weather. She trotted off the deck, sniffing familiar smells, as her thick bronzecoat reflected the sunlight. “Lots of homework to do,” I muttered under my breath.There was a pile of homework in my school bag waiting to be completed. So Islouched back inside and slammed the door shut, grabbed my obese school bag,and ran downstairs to go on the computer.

After about an hour, my sisters came home. They greeted me as usual, so itseemed like just another normal Friday. Ring! Ring! Ring! The phone rang, and Ianswered it.


SCHOOL: St. LukeTEACHER: Sue Korosec


Nathalie Aquino-MorleyUNIT: Nipissing Elementary

UNIT PRESIDENT: Linda Gordon

by K AT I E M AC DON E L L

36

TOO LATE

37

“Hi Katie.” It was my dad. He was speaking oddly, miserably.“Hey Dad, is everything okay?” I asked in concern.“Well, not exactly. You see, your grandmother is at the hospital right now.”

As my dad continued to explain it felt as if someone had punched me in the face.“An ambulance came to pick her up just this morning. I’m here at the hospital withGrandpa.”

I sat on my burgundy computer chair in shock, a lump slowly appearing in mythroat. But somehow I held the tears back.

“Wh... why is she at the hospital?”“She couldn’t breathe, so Grandpa called an ambulance to come pick her up.

It turns out she has leukemia.” He sounded like he was choking up. “But I’m sureshe’s in good hands. Can I speak to Emily or Shannon, please?

I swallowed hard and said, “Yeah, one minute.” I yelled upstairs for one of mysisters to pick up the phone, and once she did I hung up and sat. I just sat, staringat my computer screen. Was it an April Fool’s joke? No. My dad would never dosomething as disrespectful as that. I hated myself for even thinking that. How couldI have been so selfish? I thought in disgust. She was the only grandma I had left!When my mom or dad went to visit my grandparents, I almost never volunteeredto go with them. When my grandparents came over to our house to visit and theyasked me to play piano for them, I didn’t play for as long as I could have. Suddenly,I wanted to play for them for hours and hours, until my fingers bled.

For a long while, I sat with my eyes fixed on the computer screen, anunbearable shameful feeling in my heart. I tried to keep doing my homework to getmy mind off the subject, but I couldn’t. So I just sat staring at the computer, longingto rewrite my past.

“Katie!” My mom called from the kitchen. “Supper’s ready!”“Okay, I’m coming!” I replied. I was thankful for those words, as was my

stomach. I had been working on homework ever since I got home, so I needed alittle food break. After I logged off of my computer, I rushed up the stairs, eager tobegin my dinner.

Everyone was already sitting around the supper table and beginning to eat theirfood. I scurried over to my seat and saw my gorgeous piece of pizza. The pepperoniglistened with grease, covering the thick melted cheese. It looked as if it wasincredibly delicious. But as soon as I took my first bite, I realized that I wasn’thungry for pizza. I wasn’t hungry at all. I couldn’t eat. It was as if someone hadplanted a boulder inside of my stomach when my dad told me the news. I could see

38

that almost everyone else was barely touching their food, even the Lefebvres.My mother broke the silence, startling me. “Maybe we should make a card for

her,” she suggested.Emily cleared her throat. “Yeah, good idea,” she replied as she got up.After she hunched out of the room, my mom began to gather all of our

styrofoam plates. The majority of them had leftover food on them. Molly saw thatwe were done our dinner, so she started to eat all of the dropped pieces of food thatwere abandoned on the floor, which is what we call vacuuming.

I felt that I should help clean up, assuming that my mom wasn’t in the mood tohave to ask me to. I awkwardly got out of my chair and began to put food away, andeventually everyone else joined in.

Everyone in our family got to sign the card. Even the Lefebvres did. Emily,Shannon and I decorated it to the best of our ability, since we knew it might be thelast card Grandma would ever get from us. I immediately pushed that thought outof my head. NO. She’s going to live... she has to... I thought, as a warm tear trickleddown my cheek.

“I’m going to go to the hospital, where Dad and your aunts and uncles are, tosee how Grandma’s doing. I’ll give the card to her when I get there. I bet she’ll loveit,” my mom said positively to my sisters and me as she got her coat and boots on.

“We’ll stay here with the kids, okay Kathleen?” suggested Kim Lefebvrethoughtfully, glancing at her husband and children for assurance.

“Yes, thanks, Kim. Okay, I guess I should go now, bye-bye!” We all wavedgoodbye to her, and she was gone. I watched as the car backed out of the driveway,and drove off our street, out of sight. Please get better Grandma... I prayed for her inmy mind.

My sister Shannon and Ray Lefebvre were playing the Mario KartWii game inour living room, and everyone else was watching and shouting encouraging words.For a second, I actually forgot that my grandmother was in the hospital, and I despised myself for that. I was having fun playing Wii with my sisters and friends,while my grandmother was at the hospital. Shame on you! I told myself. How couldyou be happy when someone you love could die? I couldn’t help but think that it waspossible. I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t, but I gave up. She’s 83 years old...I thought, dreading the truth.

39

Then the front door opened. I almost ran to the door, not even worrying abouttripping over furniture. It was Mom, Dad, Uncle Dave, and Aunt Lynn. My heartstopped when I saw their faces. They were gloomy, pale faces with bloodshot eyes.I could tell that they had been crying.

“Is Grandma okay?” I asked, trying my best to sound optimistic. After mymother took off her boots she walked over to me, the blank expression on her facepuzzling me. I wasn’t at all confused after she whispered these next two words:“Grandma died.” She hugged me immediately after she told me this.No! She didn’t die! No! I attempted to persuade myself that this wasn’t true, but

I just made it worse for myself. As much as I detested it, it was real. She did die.After a few moments I realized that I really needed the hug. I sobbed quietly, mytears soaking my mother’s shirt. My hair stuck to my face, which irritated megravely, but I didn’t bother wiping it out of my face. I felt too guilty. I had never feltso ashamed of myself in my life.

Ever since that day I have tried to visit my grandfather as often as I can. Mysisters and I play the piano for him every time he visits us. I am sure he enjoys itvery much. My mother always says that he lights up every time we play piano forhim. This experience has made me realize that I shouldn’t take my family membersfor granted. I should be grateful for how fortunate I am, and should keep my familyclose, to make sure I won’t be too late ever again. Now I try to appreciate how luckyI am, for God to have given me such a wonderful family. I treasure every second Ihave with them.

T hey called me crazy. Said I was seeing ghosts, spirits, whatever. From thevery beginning they never accepted that I, Tessy Shaine, was different.They blamed me for being born with eyes that saw things differently. I was

the one who was the monster, even though they had hit me and made fun of meevery day since I could remember because I had a “perspective” unlike theirs. Theiractions didn’t even resemble those of humans anymore, wild animals are morehumane. I lived this life being labelled as an alien and now I am sixteen and Iquestion who I am and what I am. But I try to ignore it, this nonsense they comeup with, I mean. I know I can come out the bigger person and imagine thisuniqueness of mine as a superpower.

Though apparently, that’s just my opinion.Forget it. Why am I even thinking about such irrelevant things so early in the

morning? I’m gonna be late if I continue to play philosopher. So I walked into mybathroom. It was early morning and I was getting ready for another gruesome dayat school. School had a harsh atmosphere, but I knew I could handle it as long as Idid my daily “routine.”

I looked in the mirror, tucked a tuft of hair behind my ear, and hummed myfavourite tune. “You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, it’s true...”Then I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. With that one deep breath, I

inhaled all the good and exhaled the bad. I opened my eyes to see my reflectiononce again. My bronze hair glistened in the artificial light from above the bathroom

Secondary Grades 9 and 10Short Story

SCHOOL: St. Francis Xavier TEACHER: Elizabeth Rudolf-Temple


Danny AmaralUNIT: Dufferin-Peel Secondary

UNIT PRESIDENT: Peter MacDonald

by K AY L E E N A N N E L A R O S A C A DA L I N

40

TESSY SHA INE : SYNESTHES IA

41

mirror. My eyelashes fluttered each time I blinked, just like slick feathers. My skin,a pale white–just like Snow White’s–showed no sign of imperfection. And my eyes,just like jewels, shone, holding that mysterious power of “perspective” thateveryone else found so alien. In the mirror, I saw a beautiful and confident girl, butone who was scarred and almost breaking apart on the inside. Nonetheless, I tookmy comb and brushed through my hair one more time, took another deep breath,and calmed myself down to the core of my heart.

I was ready. I quickly fixed my fringe, grabbed my backpack by the strap, andran out the door. From then on, until I reached school, the only thought that filledmy mind was whether or not I would be tardy for period one.

Luckily, time was on my side and I made it just in time to go to my locker andperform a little book exchange: my math textbook for my Canadian historytextbook. I was in such a rush that I almost missed the graffiti that decorated mylocker. But I did notice it, and when I did, all the gears and wheels I had rolling atmax speed came to a halt.

I froze and stared at the red, red lipstick perfectly suited for a woman likeMarilyn Monroe, smeared over the blue paint of my locker. It read, “Go to hell youfreak of nature! Go make friends with the numbers you find so interesting! Alien!Ugly donkey!” As I read it I whimpered inside like a wounded hound. Jerks. Whatdoes my appearance even have to do with my “condition”? Forget going to class, I justwant to cry now. Wait... No! I’m going to stay strong! Forget what they think. And so, I continued my business at my locker.

“Hey loser,” a girl who wore too much makeup for a sixteen-year-old said, “stillas retarded as ever?” She continued her way towards me while feeding off theenthusiasm of her entourage of mindless plastic followers.

“Do you still see things? You should start a cult just so you can find other weirdlosers to comfort your poor little cursed soul. I’m just kidding! No one likes aliensanyways!” she continued to jeer. I didn’t even know this girl’s name, let alone herreasons for harassing me. I did not dare to fight back... Because she was strong...No, because I did not want to descend to her level.

They threw garbage at me and pushed me down, leaving me on the floor as theylaughed and ran away. I picked myself up, took a pack of travel Kleenex out of thefront pocket of my backpack, and began wiping down the surface of my locker.Suddenly my locker looked more purple than blue. Stay strong. Just stay strong, Iconsoled myself. Stay strong... Someone had told me that before. But I wonder who...

*****

42

I looked out the window and watched raindrops falling onto my mother’sgarden of tulips. Red, yellow, red, yellow, yellow, red, yellow, red, red... From left toright I counted the flowers that stood firm against the showers that embracedthem, as I waited for my mother to finish her business with the intelligent lookingman. 1, 2, 3... Oh! That one is happy! I thought to myself. The third tulip–the redone–was happy because the number three is happy. And so I gazed intently at thethird tulip. And the more I examined its soft petals that had become a satin bed forlost and fallen rain drops, the bigger the smile the third red tulip wore. Its mouthwas open wide, happily exposing the flower’s heart. But that is only natural. Sincethe number three is happy, the third flower is happy, and when one is happy onesmiles from the bottom of their heart.

I couldn’t satisfy my six-year-old mind with just that one happy tulip, so Icontinued to count. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... Oh no! That flower is sad! It was frowning andcrying. The poor tulip was upset and on its face I could see clearly eyes which sawnothing but a blue world that was made by the rainy atmosphere that cradled thegarden. Actually, rather than the tulip being gloomy, it was the number five thatwas feeling down. Since that yellow tulip was the fifth, it was depressed, just as thenumber five was.

And then from the corner of my eye, I saw an alphabet poster lying on the floorbehind me. I rushed over to the plastic sealed sheet, instantly forgetting thetroubled and saddened fifth tulip. I looked at all of the letters and giggleduncontrollably. “A” looked so anguished and angry at the rest of the alphabet, while“C” calmly and carelessly closed its eyes and crept its way to sleep. It was odd. Ididn’t understand why the alphabet always entertained me. The other kids in myclass said that letters and numbers were boring and that pictures were more “fun.”But “F” was frivolously funny and “P” was particularly playful and the number onewas always excited to start the day.

Whenever I told mother about the silliness of the alphabet and the numbers,and how each one had its own personality, she would frown. It wasn’t the sort offace one makes when they are sad. The frown my mother wore was one filled withworry and concern, and it was always paired up with raised but furrowed eyebrows.This frown grew worse when she found out that the other first graders were pickingon me because of what I “saw.” So she called a very intelligent looking man to comemeet me.

This intelligent-looking man was named Dr. Sense. He had come over to ourhouse in the morning–wearing quite the nifty suit, I might add–and was still here.

43

Earlier, he asked me questions about what I can “see” and gave me some veryboring activities that were somewhat confusing, but I did not necessarily mind.When we were done, he went to speak with Mother and I sat on our beige leathercouch and stared out the window looking at Mother’s tulip garden.

Fast forward the clock a couple of minutes. I was still amusing myself with thealphabet when suddenly I heard Dr. Sense and Mother coming back to the livingroom. I quickly got up off the floor and ran to the couch to sit in the most propermanner a six-year-old can. Mother is extremely strict when it comes to mannersand politeness, if politeness is the right word to describe it.

“I don’t understand,” Mother said, wearing the frown I knew too well.“It’s not a hard concept to grasp, Mrs. Shaine. Your daughter has a mental

disorder called synesthesia, where a person mixes up their senses. Some commonforms cause people to taste colours, or smell words, etcetera. Your daughter has theform called ordinal-linguistic personification, or OLP. It explains why young Tessyhere associates ordered sequences with various personalities. But from what I see,this only occurs with her letters and numbers.”

“Will this last forever, Doctor?” Mother asked. Curious as to what the adultsspoke about, I tugged Dr. Sense’s jacket to get his attention, which it did.

“Most likely. Treatments for synesthesia are still in the process of being created,as the causes are widespread, from head trauma to birth defect. We just don’t haveall the answers,” he replied. Then he looked down at me and smiled. “But it is allabout outlook. As longs as she understands what she sees is a little bit different andyou, as a parent, try to accommodate for her perspective, she can live a perfectlynormal life.”

“Mister,” I said. “Some of the kids at my school are being big, fat meanies justbecause I think that numbers and letters are fun!” And without noticing it myself,tears began to form at the corners of my eyes. I squeezed the edge of his jacket moretightly than before.

Then the intelligent-looking doctor got down onto his knees. He looked me inthe eyes with one of the most sincere and heart-warming expressions I have everseen, and gave me a hug. He put his hands on my shoulders and said, “Stay strong.Just stay strong. Although you may be different, what you see, and how you react towhat you see, is your super power.”

My mother’s frown began to transform into a smile as she looked at us. At thetime, I didn’t notice her change in countenance because one hundred percent ofmy focus was on Dr. Sense. His eyes seemed to penetrate deep down to my heart,

44

and mend the scratches I had got from the words of the bullies that had been saidearlier that day, or week, or month (I could not even remember at that point, to behonest). That was how powerful his caring and empathetic eyes were. Even thoughI did not understand a lot of things that happened in the world–I did notunderstand what I could “see,” and I did not understand why people had to be borndifferent–I could understand what his eyes were telling me.

“My super power?” I asked in confusion and amazement.“Yes, as it is yours alone and you can use it to create something unimaginable

to anyone else. You can even use it to make your world, or even the whole world, abetter, happier place,” Dr. Sense replied in a very mature manner.

“So I can be a super hero?”“Yes. As long as you stay strong,” he said. The things Dr. Sense told me in that

astonishing two minutes that seemed like a twisting eternity had echoed in mind.As a six-year-old who only knew what it was like to be an outcast that always viewedthings differently, it was a lot for me to take in.

*****

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember who had told me to “staystrong.” A math teacher of mine once told the class an off-topic idea, which wasthat the brain is like a secretary that is constantly going through files in a filingcabinet, eventually finding the information we need from our memory banks. Thiswas one of those times when my secretary was slacking off.What am I doing? I wondered as I finished wiping away at the last of the lipstick.

My locker had become more purple than blue, but I did not mind, because purpleis my favourite colour. Who cares what those girls think about my synesthesia. They areblind to what I see! And if I keep worrying... I’m going to be really late for class! Snap!

Then the bell rang and first period was beginning. I quickly threw out the usedtissues and ran to class with my bag slung over one shoulder. At that moment, ohhow I wished my eyes had a super power to teleport me to class.

i’m rising, rising slowly:

to the ends of the earth, the

ends of the galaxy, the ends

of the universe, and the ends of

all eternity. i’m uplifted from the

grounds beneath me, finding myself

over canada.

canada is a jigsaw puzzle.

shocking turbulences are overwhelmed

with this day’s noble folks.

questions, but never answers.

knowledge, but never precise.

people, but no one comes through.

i’m waiting, waiting for the

truth. attempting to acknowledge, but

ending up clueless. a mass of canadians roar:

What is my identity?

Secondary Grades 9 and 10Poem

SCHOOL: Catholic Central TEACHER: Andrea Rice


Ellie CsepregiUNIT:Windsor-Essex Secondary

UNIT PRESIDENT: Brian Hogan

by J U S T I N AO U N

45

SURV IVAL

46

i hover closely, returning to the ground to

get a close grasp on things. i walk through

a tree as if it’s transformed into the

dust of burned coal. i see mighty beavers settling

up north, lumberjacks tearing down

maple trees as their leaves fall shamelessly to the

ground, chesterfields abandoned in a

lifeless pond, and fur traders huddling near a

beat up shed. what more can i say–

eh.

You’ve got it all wrong.

i’m running, floating, and dodging various

influences. i soar high to the

sky above. freedom, i feel

freedom. luscious freedom.

sweet freedom, and free freedom,

not deceitful freedom, true freedom

against the interior borders of

canada. the presence of frozen air sweeps the

founding nations under a civic nation. people of different

kinds, beliefs, customs, colours, and languages–

black, white, polish, and arab.

they are free, they have justice. they are

distinct, different, diverse, and unique. equality, this is

equality. rights dancing as they collapse over

people, people dancing as they collapse over

rights: still retaining a solid image of existence.

if this is canada, who am i?

You, my friend, are survival.

A very accomplished author named Ray Bradbury once said, “You don’t haveto burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.”Unfortunately, that is almost exactly what is happening in today’s society.

Over the last few years, humanity has faced a dramatic decline in literature. It is mybelief that the shift from a word-oriented culture to an image-oriented one will firstmanifest itself in the generations who have grown up with television and notbooks. With negative suggestions from the media and so many new technologicaladvancements, the physical book has lost its influence in modern culture. Readingis meant to be both a positive and enriching experience for everyone. However, therates of people that take it upon themselves to read have rapidly dropped fromwhere they used to be, and I know that this needs to change.

A report by the National Endowment for the Arts, released in July of 2004, saysthat the number of adults who read decreased by more than seventeen millionbetween 1992 and 2002. In 1992, 72.6 million adults in the United States did notread a book. By 2002, that figure had grown to 89.9 million. Declining readingrates were especially great among young people aged eighteen to twenty-four. Only43 percent had read any literature in 2002, down from 53 percent in 1992. In 1983,a government study called “A Nation at Risk” warned of a “rising tide ofmediocrity” in elementary and secondary schools. Since that study, manycompanies and persuasive figures have been putting forward their best efforts tomake reading seem like something fun and enjoyable for young people, apparently

SecondaryGrades 9 and 10Nonfiction

SCHOOL: Mother Teresa TEACHER: Martha Macuase


Diane DrouillardUNIT: London District

UNIT PRESIDENT: Sheila Brescia

by S H A R N A E DA L E Y

47

TO READ OR NOT TO READ

48

to no avail. Oprah Winfrey was one of these persuasive figures, using television topromote literacy. However, despite the creation of Oprah’s Book Club in 1996 andthings like the Harry Potter craze that began in the late 1990s, the decline stilloccurred, and there are several reasons why that could have happened.

Television, movies and the internet are three of the most prominent aspects of modern North American culture. It is not unknown that we rely on electronicsand technology for entertainment most of the time. Many young people today are sitting around watching TV when they could be expanding their minds byreading. Andrew Solomon, a writer for The New York Times, once said, “Readers, inother words, are active in society, while non-readers–more than half of thepopulation–have settled into apathy.” This basically means that those who read aregoing to be filled with cultural fulfillment, while those who don’t are going to beindifferent to a lot of things. What we’re seeing now is an enormous cultural shiftfrom print media to electronic media, and the unintended consequences of thatshift. Really, only bad things can come from people not reading. Despite theexistence of amazing television, brilliant pieces of writing on the internet, andvideo games that test logic and strategy, electronic media, for the most part, invitesinert activity for all those who religiously take part in it. Not only does technologycreate this lack of interest and enthusiasm, but it also creates a major loss of jobsfor people who have occupations in the field of literature. Because of things likestories being made available to read online rather than in physical books, andbecause of things like movies (excluding book adaptations), companies and authorsare being put out of work every day. What I don’t understand is why people wouldever choose not to read.

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads livesonly one.” This is a quote from Jojen, a character in the Game of Thrones series,written by George R.R. Martin, one of my biggest role models. To me, this quote iscompletely true in the sense that when you read, your mind is open to so muchmore and is nowhere near as limited as that of someone who chooses not to.Reading is a fun and enjoyable way to learn new things and get a firmer grasp on,and better appreciation of, other cultures. I read because it enhances myvocabulary and gives me a more extensive knowledge and awareness of mysurroundings. Literature started playing its enormous role in my life when I wasvery young and it’s something I will surely always treasure and hold close to me.Creativity through reading and writing is a phenomenal way to express oneself, andI can’t think of anything I like more, personally.

49

In closing, I don’t believe that I have any right to tell society what to do. Thereason I brought about this subject is because I consider it a crisis situation thatrequires international conversation, and I hope that one day I can change the wayreading and literature are viewed by the majority of society. A wise man once said,“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn,the more places you’ll go!” I intend to continue reading for both leisure andacademic purposes, and hopefully you will too.

I am a Croc. A pair of Crocs, to be exact. Created in a factory in SouthernOntario, I have, or used to have, certain struggles that other shoes did notexperience. The mockery was disdainful and subjective and the people who

scrutinized my red, rubbery soles were not willing to take me for what I am.Luckily, there was a group of gardeners, stay-at-home mothers and fashion-forwardchildren that kept my soles alive.

Now, if you walk into Vogue’s offices in Manhattan at this time of year, you willsee me, alongside my brothers and sisters, plastered on bulletin boards,PowerPoints and presentation boards. “Why?” you may ask. “Why is a shoe thatlooks as if it is a reject from a Lego factory on the top of Vogue.com’s “MostSearched” list? Why has Tom Ford been seen wearing them to his bi-monthlycocktail parties on Fire Island? Why is Prada creating seasonal Croc pumps thatwill soon be seen on runways around the world?” Here is why.

One day, I was waiting in Master’s closet. It was a Saturday, the day when Ifaced the most ridicule. Saturdays were when all of the stay-at-home motherswould pull out their favourite pairs of shoes and go down to the Farmers’ Marketto search for art, food and vintage clothing. Because Master had bunion problems,she would always choose me over her pairs of old ballet flats or Birkenstocks. Thismeant that everyone at the market saw me in full daylight. It was a weekly event,so I decided to be optimistic about it, regardless of the insults that were usuallythrown at me.

I heard Master’s alarm go off. The world was going to see me, and I was goingto make a good impression. I had just gotten new charms from the dollar store thatdefinitely made me look more like a fashion-forward pair of slip-ons.

SecondaryGrades 11 and 12Short Story

SCHOOL: St. Benedict TEACHER: Carmen FriedrichSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Delmar BorbaUNIT:Waterloo


by J O E L C UM B E R

50

PRADA, CHANEL , CROC

51

“Nice jewellery,” one of the Birkenstocks guffawed sarcastically, gesturingtowards the dirt-stained dolphin charm from Sea World that was on my back.

“Well, ACTUALLY, Birkenstock, Master bought me some jewellery from theDollarama down the street. A bumblebee AND a dragonfly.”

“We’re SO jealous,” the pair of black Converse chimed in in a sarcastic tone.I decided to be the bigger sole and just not say anything back. The last time two

pairs of shoes picked a fight in the closet overnight, the Great Barking Monster torethem to shreds. Even when we thought no one was watching, someone ALWAYSwas.

The doors to the closet opened up and a large pair of hands grabbed me. It wasMaster. I felt happiness and relief, relief that I was going to get out of that closetfor the day.

Master slipped me on and stepped out of her apartment, making her waytowards the elevator that would bring her down to the outside world. We arrivedat the sidewalk and as Master began walking down the street, I felt an air ofpositivity and optimism come over me. We strolled by a kind couple and theycomplimented me. I am on a roll, I thought.

Suddenly, a group of rowdy pre-pubescents walked by. I am not one to judgeshoes but I thought their dirt-stained, multi-coloured Converse were just ugly.“Ugly” was a word that I learned one day when I was left at the local communitycentre that my master went to every other Sunday in Mississauga. One day, beforeMaster had her bunions and I was simply used as garden-wear, she put on hercasual shoes after Gardening Club and forgot about me. The room that I was left inbecame a juvenile criminal therapy workshop for troubled teens after five o’clock.During my time there, I picked up words like “marijuana,” “swag,” and “gunviolence.” I hardly ever had the chance to learn new words because Master barelytook me out into the real world, so although this workshop was frightening, I tookit as an opportunity for learning, just like the Saturday trips to the Farmers’ Market.

We arrived at the market and made our way to one of the many fruit stands. Iwas surrounded by farming boots and brown leather, all coming in from thesurrounding areas of Toronto to get their fresh groceries for the week. I used to tryto fit in by speaking with an accent that I had heard a pair of army boots use once,but then I realized it was a stereotype, so I stopped.

After purchasing a violent amount of oranges, we made our way to one of thestalls that featured an array of squash. As Master felt her way through piles of acornand butternut, I noticed a very excited monster that was a mere ten metres awayfrom us. It reminded me too much of the Great Barking Monster back home, so Iinstantly started to panic. However, I knew Master would never let anythinghappen to me, so the panic started to subside. I was in good feet.

52

Master spent about an hour perusing the stalls of fruits and vegetables until shedecided it was time to go. With bags full of butternut squash, cucumber, ripetomatoes and fresh oranges, she began walking with a spring in her step. Masterwas always getting excited over organic foods. It was a pleasant walk for about twominutes until I noticed something up ahead: a crack. Cracks are a shoe’s mortalenemy. Stilettos break, ballet flats rip and soles of all types face a certain emotionaltrauma when faced with a sidewalk crack. I was worried. Master kept walkingforward, and usually, with a crack of this magnitude, one would change their pathor begin walking around it. I soon realized that Master was too enamoured by hernutritious finds to realize what danger I was in. We were closing in on the crackand I had no idea what to do. I braced myself for the consequences and closed myeyes. Within seconds, I felt my nose in the crevice. Master’s foot began to wobbleand soon my whole body started to bend. Master flew to the ground, fresh fruitsand vegetables scattering everywhere in an organic frenzy. She was too busyworrying about her suddenly-squished tomatoes to realize that one half of me wasstuck face first in the crack, and the other half lay limp right next to her. I couldnot call out to her, and I could only hope that she would soon realize we were gone.

I then noticed something out of the corner of my eye: it was a Great BarkingMonster making its way towards the scene. I could see the drool falling out of thecorners of its mouth and its beady eyes fixated on my red rubber body. I washelpless. This could be the end. I would end up a pile of chewed up Croc, probablyput in a hole somewhere behind an elementary school. As expected, the GreatBarking Monster picked up both of my halves and began galloping away. I lookedback at Master, who had just gotten up to retrieve me, and her face looked confusedand concerned. She looked my way and realized what had happened and Iunderstood her not chasing after me. No one can outrun a Great Barking Monster.

It was a long and treacherous journey before we reached a very nice apartmentcomplex in Downtown Toronto. Pigeons yelled profanities at me and a man whowas covered in dirt tried to steal me. We arrived at the front of a building where aman with glasses and a slightly pudgy face stood, looking worried. As soon as hesaw the furry vehicle that was carrying me he yelled out “POOCHY!” and startedto cry. It was as if he had been reunited with a long lost brother. I thought the manlooked rather overdressed for a hot summer‘s day, but I was in no place to judge. Iwas the pariah of all footwear.

It was at this moment, though, where I single-footedly changed the face of thefashion world, or so Vera Wang told me at Paris Fashion Week in 2012.

The pudgy-faced, overdressed man gave me an odd look. He pulled me out ofthe mouth of the Beast and looked at me. For about five minutes he examined meand felt me in places I had never been felt.

53

“Genius,” he whispered intently. I had never been called a genius before.Instantly, it was like a whirlwind was set off. The man ran to his vehicle, put me

in the passenger seat and drove me to an office that was filled with odd-lookingmen and women. I saw colours that I had never seen before, hairstyles that lookedlike something out of the Vogue magazine that Master received every month, andbest of all, the most smiles I had ever seen, and they were all because of me.

The man, who I later learned was named Philip Sparks, held me up in front ofhis assistants, associates and designers.

“This is the inspiration I have been searching for! No more army boots, navydeck shoes or woven flats. These are the essence of summer, the essence of walkingdown the streets of Toronto on the way to serve your purpose. STAND BACKPRADA, Sparks is the new top dog in town! Philip Sparks held me up in the air andeveryone in the office hollered as if we were at a political rally.

After that day, I became a sort of celebrity. I sat under a glass case in Philip’soffice awaiting “The Important Day” as his associates called it. There was anexciting chatter floating around. I heard two pairs of camel decks, which were onPhilip’s desk waiting to be approved, chatting about me.

“Apparently he is going to bring Crocs into the high-fashion world,” one pairsaid, trying to hold back a laugh.

“I cost two-hundred dollars to make, and Crocs look like something akindergarten student made out of play-doh. He’ll be lucky if he gets them onto thesales rack at Macy’s,” the other pair said with spite.

I wanted to speak up, but I trusted my new Master. I was used to the ridicule,and I was not going to sink down to their level. Crocs must always maintain theirdignity.

***

“The Important Day” was one day away and I was getting nervous. I did noteven know what the day was. Then again, I had no idea what the words “HighFashion,” “Prada,” or “Vera Wang” meant either. I was lost in a scramble of bigwords and even bigger ambitions.

I was sitting on a table in a large work room, surrounded by men and womensewing certain clothing materials together. I had heard that Master’s newcollection of clothing was called “Summer Wear, Dreams to Share,” but these thickblack clothes did not look like summer wear to me. Once again though, I was in noplace to judge. I was waiting for Master to come and give me a final look before Iwas shipped off to New York City for “The Important Day.” I had never beenanywhere outside of Toronto, so I was frightened, but excited.

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I looked over at the table beside me and saw that Master was inspecting abrown shirt that was going to be shipped off to New York City with me the next day.He stared at it for a couple moments and then ripped it right down the middle andadded an array of coloured threads. As he started to sew the new design together, Ifelt an empty feeling in the pit of my soles.

“It’s alright!” a voice called out to me. It was somewhere near, so I startedlooking around. At the other end of the table was a brown leather belt that lookedold and worn out.

“Don’t worry!” she called out again. “Philip won’t do anything like THAT toyou. Philip is very fond of you. I heard him talking to someone an hour ago and hesaid that you are what is going to put him on the European fashion map.”

“Are you sure? I take pride in these charms on my back. They all have a historyand if they got taken away, I don’t know what I would do,” I said quietly, feelingnervous. Before the belt could say anything else, Master was standing right in frontof me. He picked me up and held me close to his face. He grinned and then handedme to his associate.

“Take these down to the packing room. They are ready for New York FashionWeek.” As the associate walked out of the work room with me snug in her grasp, Iheard the high-pitched voice of the belt call after me.

“TOLD YOU!” she yelled with a laugh.After that, I was feeling confident and ready to take on New York. I still could

not figure out what “The Important Day” was, but now I knew it had something todo with New York Fashion Week. Months ago, I would have been burying myselfunder a pile of towels if I ever had to go to a fashion week. All of those shoes withsuperiority complexes telling me everything that was wrong with my design, mycolour, my feel and my material. It would have been a nightmare. But now, I havethe Philip Sparks stamp of approval and no one, not even a new pair ofBirkenstocks, could stop me.

It was finally “The Important Day.” I was in a room filled with male and femalemodels that were covered in hairspray and different outfits from Master’scollection. I had finally uncovered the mystery of “The Important Day.” It was afashion show. And according to the talkative jacket that was beside me on theairplane, “It is not a fashion show, it is the fashion show. DeMarchelier is going tobe there.” I did not know who DeMarchelier was, but apparently he/she wasimportant.

It was nearing the end of Master’s fashion show and I had yet to go onstage. Iknew I was being saved for the grand finale and I could tell by Master’s tears andmessy hair that it was just minutes away. Master grabbed a male model, grabbed me

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and walked towards the runway entrance. He put me on the model’s well groomedfeet and grabbed his face with drama and gusto.

“My whole career depends on this,” Master whispered to the male model, wholooked frightened. “This is your moment.”

Although he was talking to the model, I knew he was also talking to me. Thiswas my moment. My charms were freshly polished and I was ready to face theaudience.

We stepped onto the runway. The flashing lights shone in my face, and that iswhen my life changed.

I was a hit. After the show my fame sky-rocketed. It came to the point where allof Brangelina’s kids were wearing Crocs. They were a “must have.” Crocs were usedin every single Marc Jacobs, Vera Wang and Betsey Johnson design and it was allbecause of me. I had finally received the recognition I had always thought Ideserved.

One day, I was with Master at a club in Strasbourg. It was Paris Fashion Weekand I was the guest of honour. I was wearing new Justin Bieber charms that were ahit among the young fold. As Master was chatting over mimosas with Meryl Streep,a woman wearing a pair of last season Chanel thigh-highs walked in and sat downnext to me.

“Hi,” Chanel said to me quietly. She looked nervous. She knew she was lastseason, and it was not usual for people to wear last season’s shoes during ParisFashion Week. This was my chance. I could finally use my fame to show her how Ifelt when I was surrounded by Converse, stilettos, and Birkenstocks in that dark,damp closet two years previous. I had had to deal with it, so these shoes were justgoing to have to deal with it too. It made me stronger, so I was just doing her afavour.

Right before I was going to insult her practically broken zipper, I caught myself.That was just it. I had had to deal with it, but that didn’t mean I had to put anyoneelse through that.

“Hey,” I said back, smiling. “I love your colour!”

What do you do when you don’t know what to do?When you don’t know what to sayWhen words aren’t enoughBut actions are too much.

When you know something that should be locked up in a closetBut that closetIs your mind.What do you do?

When it’s killing you insideLike a house burning to the groundLike a lion clawing to get outLike a wave ready to take you under.

But… you keep smilingAnd try not to make a soundYou keep listening to the cries and pleas for better livesBut your listening, it can’t save lives.

Secondary Grades 11 and 12Poem

SCHOOL: St. Maximilian KolbeTEACHER: Jennifer GerwlivchSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Kyla KingUNIT: York

UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart

by K A R A WA I T E S

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WHAT DO YOU DO?

57

I’m not some Dr. Phil or Oprah WinfreyI don’t have an “all knowing power”I wish I could solve your problems and save the day.But I’m not some super hero, I have no powers,I have ears to listen and a heart to feelBut I know that’s not enough for you to heal.

It’s gonna be okay,That’s all I can say.But it’s something I don’t know for sure.It’s something I hopeSomething I prayThat one day you’ll be the one to tell me you’re okay.

But until that day comes,I’ll be here.Waiting for you like the last stop on the bus Like a kid waiting for Santa on Christmas EveLike a tulip waiting for the sun to shineLike waiting for the last ten seconds until the microwave beeps.

I’ll be there, I mean here.I mean wherever you need me.I’ll see whatever you want me to see.I’ll be whatever you need me to be.I’ll be your guide dogYour locked up diaryYour voice when you’re lost for words.

Because I don’t know what to do,I’m just hoping I can help you through.

CHARACTERS

ANNELISE: Daughter of a Nazi officer, age 16

ADELE: Catholic, hiding SARAH in her attic, age 16

SARAH: Jewish, hiding in ADELE’s attic, age 16

YOUNG ANNELISE: Younger version of ANNELISE, age 6-10

YOUNG ADELE: Younger version of ADELE, age 6-10

YOUNG SARAH: Younger version of SARAH, age 6-10

FREDRICK: ANNELISE’s brother, age 16

SOPHIE: ANNELISE’s younger sister, age 10

VIKTOR: FREDRICK’s best friend and ANNELISE’sboyfriend, age 17

EVELYN: ANNELISE’s mother, middle-aged

GRETEL: ADELE’s mother, seamstress, middle-aged

CAPTAIN FITZENBURG: ANNELISE’s father, middle-aged

LIEUTENANT

NAZI #1, NAZ1 #2

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WHEN WAR WAS JUST A GAME

SecondaryGrades 11 and 12Play

SCHOOL: St. JamesTEACHER: Paul McNamaraSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Catherine WhyteUNIT:WellingtonUNIT PRESIDENT: Jim Whitechurch

by MEG AN K E N N E Y, S E R E N A LOWE R Y,and A D R I A N N A V. WOODB U R N

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SCENE ONE(Stage is dark, child’s play is heard. Lights fade up. Three doors with shadow screens are on platforms at the back of the stage. Three little girls stand on the stage in front of their older counterparts. The older girls stand behind the doors in shadow.)

YOUNG ANNELISE YOUNG ADELE YOUNG SARAH:(Laughing, running, singing.)

I’ll be the mommy Let’s play hide and seek I’m an airplaneRing around the rosy Braid my hair It’s so prettyI’ll race you Come find me! WhrrrrI want to be the princess I’ll race you Let’s fly a kiteWhen I grow up… Best friends forever!

(Pause.)

ANNELISE: Heil Hitler!

YOUNG ANNELISE YOUNG ADELE YOUNG SARAH: Let’s play Let’s play

I can’t I’m notAllowed Allowed

Please?Why didn’t you answer my letter?

I didn’t get your letter I gave it to your momShe didn’t give it to me

Why don’t weSing Sing SingAshes, ashes, Ashes, ashes, Ashes, asheswe all fall down we all fall down we all fall down

NO NOStay

I’m not allowed to play anymore.

Let’s play outside Let’s play inside

ALL: I’m scared

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ANNELISE ADELE SARAH: Why?

They’re coming forME

YOU YOUME MEYOU YOUME MEMe me ME ME I shouldn’t play anymoreI don’t want to play anymore

ADELE: They say that there are six degrees of separationbetween every person. Six lines of separation. 1 2 3 4 5 6. 1 2 3 4 5 6. 1 2 3 4 5 6. (On the secondcount of six, ANNELISE and SARAH simultaneouslydraw the Swastika and Star of David, respectively, onthe shadow screens. One line per number. After amoment, the lights change to reveal CAPTAINFITZENBURG onstage.)

CAPTAIN FITZENBURG: Heil Hitler! The year is 1943. The war in Europehas raged for the past four years. The occupyingforces from Nazi Germany have taken upresidence in the Netherlands. Before the war, I was a business man working contracts withGermany. Things have changed. Now I amresponsible for collecting Jews from their homesin the Netherlands and arranging transport toGermany. They are registered, documented, andsent to transit camps before continuing on tovarious locations and camps in Germany. Oncethey cross the border, they are no longer myresponsibility. Hitler wants a labour force of Jews,and that’s what I give to him. I always do my job. I will find all of the Jews. I will see to theirtransportation and registration. The world is atwar. In times such as these, the normal ways ofbusiness must be… adjusted.

(Blackout.)

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SCENE TWO(Screaming is heard. Lights up on SARAH having a nightmare. Enter ADELE.)

ADELE: Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here. Shhh… They aren’t going to getyou.

SARAH: I’m sorry, I just fell asleep for a minute… What time is it?

ADELE: Time to get up. You look exhausted. Still having troublesleeping?

SARAH: No, I can get to sleep just fine, it’s what I will see when Iclose my eyes. And I am trying so hard not to scream inthe middle of the night.

ADELE: What do you see? Maybe talking to someone can get rid ofsome of the nightmares.

SARAH: Hitler got me.

ADELE: I won’t let him.

SARAH: I’ve been here for a month, what if they find me? Howmuch longer can I hide?

ADELE: Until the war is over?

SARAH: I can’t stay in your attic that long! I am eternally grateful for what your parents are doing, but it puts us all at risk. Who knows how many more years this will last?

ADELE: You have to have hope, Sarah.

SARAH: The war has been going on for four years, hope is scarce.

ADELE: I don’t know what you want me to do.

SARAH: Your family is already doing so much, risking your lives tohide me. I’m sorry, I’m just getting frustrated. (Coughs.)

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ADELE: Are you getting sick?

SARAH: Just a cold.

ADELE: You should take some more blankets.

SARAH: Can I come downstairs for a bit? Please? I’ve been up here all month. Please?

ADELE: We shouldn’t…

SARAH: Please?! Please, please, please, Adele?!

ADELE: Alright, but remember–

SARAH: I know, I know, if anyone comes, I’m your cousin.

ADELE: From?

SARAH: Your cousin from Zwolle.

ADELE: Get dressed, I will make some tea.

(Exit SARAH.)

ADELE: Her happiness over this one little thing is overwhelming. I hope that I am doing right by her. Mama would probablytell me not to risk it but I am almost as fed up as she iswith being alone all day. Mama is fine company, but shehas to work. And Sarah’s mama and papa… Well all we cando is hope that they are still alive. And her brother. Howrandom it was! One day I looked out the window and sawSarah’s family being dragged out of their house by Nazis. A street sweep. A stupid street sweep. A week before wewere supposed to hide them. Lucky Sarah was here at thetime. She hasn’t gone home since that day. We have gonethrough it all together. The raids, the bombing, theanticipation of getting caught. Just Sarah and I, like it waswhen we were kids. The only thing missing is Annelise.

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SCENE THREE(Lights up on ANNELISE’s room.)

ANNELISE: Heil Hitler!

I graduated to a higher level of the Dutch Nazi Party last week! Oh, Mother wasso proud. The leader, Anton Mussert, even came and shook hands with some ofthe boys who are moving on too. Anton Mussert works for Arthur Seyss-Inquart, the governor of the Netherlands. Arthur Seyss-Inquart followswhatever Adolf Hitler says. So does father. Father is a Dutch Officer, he helps inthe high ranks of the army with the transportation of Jews to Germany. Motherand Father and my siblings always do whatever Adolf Hitler says. Father alwaystells me, “Remember, Annelise, the Fuhrer knows what is best. He rebuiltGermany and he will rebuild the Netherlands also. If we follow him we will besafe.”

So I listen to the Fuhrer too.

My name is Annelise. Before the war–funny how all memories seem to beginwith that phrase recently–before the war, I went to school with my best friendsAdele and Sarah. Adele is Catholic, Sarah is Jewish. I don’t speak to themanymore. I was told not to, so I don’t.

Mother says, “If you ever see anyone doing anything against the Fuhrer oragainst the laws, Annelise, you turn them in right away.”

So I do. I turned in Anke, my old music teacher, last week. I used to like Anke, I thought she was really nice. But she wouldn’t hang the Swastika, so I turnedher in. Father praised me and Mother was proud. They said that I did the rightthing. So I suppose I did, but I am sort of sad that Anke is gone… I thought shewas a good person. But I did the right thing. I think.

It was my job. I always do my job. I will do my job like my siblings before mehave done, and like them, I set an example for the sister after me. My siblingsmake Mother and Father so proud! Especially my twin brother, Fredrick. Hesets the standard so high for me. I try to do right for my parents, my oldersiblings, my brother, and–

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SOPHIE: (Offstage) ANNELISE!!!!

ANNELISE: … Sophie.

(Enter SOPHIE.)

SOPHIE: Happy Birthday!

ANNELISE: Thank you.

SOPHIE: Do you like my hair? Mama did it.

ANNELISE: It’s the same as mine.

SOPHIE: I know!

ANNELISE: I had to beg mother to do my hair for my birthday. Howdid you get her to do it?

SOPHIE: I just asked her.

ANNELISE: Of course you did.

SOPHIE: (SOPHIE picks up ANNELISE’s journal.) What’s this, Annie?

ANNELISE: It’s my journal. Mother and Father got it for me for mybirthday. And it’s MINE, Sophie.

SOPHIE: Well, can I see it?

ANNELISE: NO! It’s for my eyes only.

SOPHIE: Fine. Can we do something together then?

ANNELISE: I was planning to go out with Freddie and Viktor.

SOPHIE: But you’re always with them! Why don’t we go to thebakery with the purple sign and the raisin cookies?

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ANNELISE: Sorry Sophie, but that bakery closed. They were Jewish.

SOPHIE: But who will make the raisin cookies now?

ANNELISE: Go ask Mother.

SOPHIE: But she is busy setting up for the party. Please pleaseplease please please?!

(Enter FREDRICK.)

FREDRICK: Sophie, why don’t you go see what Mother needs?

SOPHIE: Okay! (Exit SOPHIE.)

FREDRICK: Happy birthday Annelise! (FREDRICK hands ANNELISE a book.)

ANNELISE: Oh, Freddy! Thank you. I’ve got one for you too!(ANNELISE hands FREDRICK a tie.)

FREDRICK: A perfect gift for a man.

ANNELISE: And this is a wonderful gift for a lady.

FREDRICK: (Teasing.) Well, my little sister is sixteen, after all.

ANNELISE: Little by six minutes!

FREDRICK: Little none the less.

ANNELISE: What are your plans for today?

FREDRICK: Viktor and I are going to see a film called “Immensere.”

ANNELISE: Can I come?

FREDRICK: It’s a boy’s day, Annie. (ANNELISE still looking eager.) Boy’s day.

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(Knock at door.)

ANNELISE: Fine. (Knock at door.) You get it.

(Persistent knock, FREDRICK goes to answer it.)

FREDRICK: Come in, Viktor!

(Enter VIKTOR.)

VIKTOR: (To FREDRICK.) Happy birthday!

FREDRICK: Thanks!

(VIKTOR pushes past Fredrick to ANNELISE.)

VIKTOR: Happy birthday!

ANNELISE: Thank you, Viktor. (ANNELISE gestures for FREDRICK to leave.)

FREDRICK: I’m going to get… my bag… (Exit FREDRICK.)

VIKTOR: You look so beautiful.

ANNELISE: Thank you. So you and Freddie are going to a film today.

VIKTOR: Yes.

ANNELISE: Freddie won’t let me go.

VIKTOR: It’s his birthday.

ANNELISE: (Whining) It’s my birthday, too.

VIKTOR: Don’t be childish.

ANNELISE: Sorry.

(VIKTOR plays with ANNELISE’s braid.)

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VIKTOR: What is this?

ANNELISE: My mother did it this morning. Don’t you like it?

VIKTOR: I like it down better.

ANNELISE: Oh…

VIKTOR: Don’t you want your birthday present? (VIKTOR handsANNELISE a box, she takes out a red hair ribbon.)

ANNELISE: It’s so pretty. Thank you, Viktor.

VIKTOR: It will match your dress for the gala tomorrow.

ANNELISE: Yes it will!

VIKTOR: Good. Red is my father’s favourite colour.

ANNELISE: (Nervous) Your father is coming tomorrow evening?

VIKTOR: Yes, of course, it is the gala. Annelise, I want you to be onyour best behaviour.

ANNELISE: Of course I will be.

VIKTOR: I need you to impress my father.

ANNELISE: Don’t you think I will?

VIKTOR: I do love you. (VIKTOR takes ANNELISE’s hands in hisown.) I just want my father to approve of you.

(Enter FREDRICK.)

FREDRICK: Viktor, we can’t go— (VIKTOR and ANNELISE pull awayfrom each other.) We can’t go see a film. Mother wants meto help with the preparations for the gala tomorrow.

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VIKTOR: Of course. I’ll be going then.

FREDRICK: No, my mother telephoned your mother and she wantsyou to help out too.

VIKTOR: All right.

FREDRICK: I know, not much fun. (Enter EVELYN.) But you knowwhat my mother is like when she’s angry. We don’t wantto deal with that monster.

EVELYN: Is that so, Fredrick? Am I a monster?

FREDRICK: Uh, no, ma’am… Uh, come on, Viktor. (Exit FREDRICKand VIKTOR.)

EVELYN: Happy birthday, darling!

ANNELISE: Thank you, Mother.

EVELYN: What are you planning for your special day?

ANNELISE: I was hoping to see a film with Freddie and Viktor, butthey wouldn’t allow it. Besides, they are helping withparty preparations now anyway.

EVELYN: I wouldn’t want to keep you all cooped up in here on yourbirthday. I’ll tell you what. Here is a gulden. You can buyyourself something sweet while picking up the tailoring.

ANNELISE: Thank you! What do you need me to pick up?

EVELYN: Your father and brother’s uniforms are being mended fortomorrow evening. (EVELYN hands ANNELISE money andpaper.) Here’s the tailor’s address and a list of what needsto be picked up.

ANNELISE: Thank you! (ANNELISE hugs EVELYN.) I will be back soon!

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(Exit EVELYN. ANNELISE goes to exit but pauses as she hears voices. Enter CAPTAINFITZENBURG and LIEUTENANT.)

CAPTAIN FITZENBURG: … Lieutenant, write this down: “The trains willcross north, over the border, to Bergen-Belsen.”

LIEUTENANT: But Captain Fitzenburg, how would we get themto cooperate?

CAPTAIN FITZENBURG: Sometimes they have to be pushed a little.

LIEUTENANT: Sometimes they have to be pushed a little…(ANNELISE is in LIEUTENANT’s way.) Pardon me,girl.

ANNELISE: Sorry, sir. (Blackout.)

SCENE FOUR(Lights up on the tailoring shop. ADELE is mending clothing when GRETEL enters.)

ADELE: Mama! You are home already?

GRETEL: I just came to pick up some sample threads. I haveto hurry out again.

ADELE: You are leaving me with her all day again?

GRETEL: You two should be alright as long as she stays inthe attic. I promise, we’ll be out of here as soon asI get new identification papers for all of us. Thankyou so much for doing this, darling. It makes allthe difference. (Exit GRETEL.)

ADELE: This is too much responsibility for just me.(ADELE turns on radio. Enter SARAH.)

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SARAH: Here are the clothes you asked me for. Feels nice to bedown here. So much better than the attic, even if I am onedge the whole time. (SARAH hugs teddy bear closer toherself.)

ADELE: You are really carrying that ratty thing around down here?

SARAH: He makes me feel safe.

ADELE: Who gave him to you?

SARAH: I don’t remember… (Gestures to radio.) What are youlistening to?

ADELE: It’s the singer Ilse Werner. You’ve never heard her? Come on, let’s dance! (ADELE turns up radio, SARAH andADELE dance.)

RADIO: We interrupt this broadcast for a special message fromAdolph Hitler…

(ADELE hastily turns off radio.)

SARAH: He ruins everything, doesn’t he?

ADELE: Sarah– (Knock is heard.) Get upstairs now!

(Exit SARAH Stage Left. Enter ANNELISE Stage Right.)

ANNELISE: My mother sent me to get the–(ANNELISE and ADELEcollide.)

ADELE: Tailoring?

ANNELISE: (Recognizing ADELE.) Adele? Um, yes, two…

ADELE: Give me that. (Grabs list from ANNELISE and exits.ANNELISE looks around, picks up picture. ADELE enters with clothes.)

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ANNELISE: Is this us three as kids? The time we put on a play for yourmother. You, me, and Sarah…

ADELE: (Taking picture.) Here are your uniforms. My mother willbill your mother.

ANNELISE: Thanks. (Goes to leave.) Whatever happened to Sarah?Didn’t she live around here?

ADELE: No.

ANNELISE: Oh, right. She was a Jew, I guess it’s for the best. (Exit ANNELISE, blackout.)

SCENE FIVE(Lights up. Enter ANNELISE and FREDRICK. SOPHIE is sitting on stage, upset.)

FREDRICK: … And then Viktor dropped a box on his foot, and thatunleashed Mother’s monster. I have never seen–Sophie?Are you okay?

SOPHIE: Nooooooo!

FREDRICK: Well, do you want to talk about it?

SOPHIE: Well, okay. You know my best friend Eva. She moved tothe country because of the war. And now we can’t playwith each other anymore.

FREDRICK: Well, did you think you were going to be best friendsforever?

SOPHIE: Yes! We were best, best friends forever and ever, Freddie!That means a lot!

ANNELISE: Not always.

(Flashback: little girls run downstage.)

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YOUNG ANNELISE: We’re best best friends forever!

YOUNG ADELE: Promise?

YOUNG SARAH: We’re sisters!

YOUNG ANNELISE: My brother taught me a new game, it’s called war.Come on, I’ll teach you!

(End flashback.)

FREDRICK: Annie? Aaannniiiieee!

ANNELISE: What? Hi Freddy.

FREDRICK: Did you hear a word I said?

ANNELISE: Of course.

FREDRICK: Tell me then where Sophie’s friend moved to.

ANNELISE: I don’t know… I wasn’t listening.

FREDRICK: What’s gotten into you lately, Annie?

ANNELISE: I’ve been worried about the party.

FREDRICK: Alright then, did you get the uniforms?

ANNELISE: Yes, they’re right behind you. (FREDRICK picks upthe clothes.)

FREDRICK: … My uniform shirt is missing! I need it fortomorrow evening.

ANNELISE: I’m sorry, I’ll get it first thing tomorrow.

FREDRICK: Be quick about it. There’s still a lot to do for theparty.

(Little girls quietly sing, “We all fall down.” Blackout.)

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SCENE SIX(Lights up. Enter ADELE. SARAH is already onstage.)

ADELE: Sarah! You aren’t supposed to be down here! I know I saidyou could yesterday, but two days in a row? You could getcaught! What are you doing?

SARAH: Your mother isn’t home and it is freezing up in the attic.

ADELE: Fine, but be careful. What are you looking at?

SARAH: This photograph, it’s of us when we were kids. Annelise is in it.

ADELE: Sorry! I will get Mother to put it away.

SARAH: I wonder what she is doing.

ADELE: Annelise? I saw her yesterday.

SARAH: Really? Did she want to–

ADELE: She was here to pick up her tailoring. Her uniforms.

SARAH: Oh. Did she seem okay?

ADELE: Why do you care? It’s not like she is particularlyconcerned about your wellbeing.

SARAH: I don’t know, I guess I just kind of hoped that she was thesame as before.

ADELE: Well, stop hoping because she is not!

SARAH: How do you know she is different?

ADELE: How do you know she isn’t different?

SARAH: What do you have against her?

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ADELE: She broke her promises. She turned against us.

SARAH: She isn’t a Nazi.

ADELE: She’s close enough! She parades around in their uniform!Always wearing a Swastika on her arm.

SARAH: Adele–

ADELE: No! She killed your parents and brother! (Both realize whatwas said.) No, Sarah, I didn’t mean that. (She reaches forSARAH.)

SARAH: No.

ADELE: Sarah, please, I didn’t mean to say that.

SARAH: I get it, Adele.

(Blackout.)

SCENE SEVEN(Lights up. ANNELISE is onstage, she begins humming/singing a song.)

ANNELISE: That song is from BBC. I heard it while tuning to theGerman station and it caught my attention so I had tolisten. (Hums/sings a bit more of the song.) Father says thatBBC is bad. He caught me listening to it yesterday andgave me a long lecture on the importance of not giving into bad thoughts. He doesn’t like the BBC because theydon’t like what Hitler is doing; they think he is bad, soFather thinks that they are bad… I don’t reallyunderstand. I don’t understand what the BBC says either.They tell stories of horrible things that have to be madeup. Stories that make the Nazis sound like bad men! Isn’tthat atrocious? For some reason, the things said on theBBC are terribly interesting. I am so used to being told

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what’s going on and who to believe and what to do byMother or Father or my siblings. The BBC lets me dosomething all by myself. I know it’s probably very wrong,but it is just so tempting.

(ANNELISE turns radio on. Voice is heard telling a story. Fade to black on ANNELISE,lights up on ADELE and SARAH hearing the same story of searches for people. SARAHsighs and turns it off.)

SARAH: No one is looking for me.

ADELE: I’m sure that they are, they just… they just can’t find youyet. Things will work out, I promise. And about what Isaid yesterday: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I was just angryabout Annelise showing up here again after all this time.(SARAH looks away.) I have to finish the laundry now. Will you be alright?

SARAH: Yes, I’ll just sit here.

ADELE: Sarah, don’t worry about the report. It will just make youfeel worse. (ADELE sees GRETEL entering.) Sarah! Mama iscoming, you aren’t supposed to be down here. Quick,make some tea in the kitchen, I will keep her in here.(Exit SARAH.)

GRETEL: I am just home to get some more thread, dear. Make sureto finish hemming Miss Louisa’s skirt while I am out!

ADELE: You’re leaving again?

GRETEL: I have to. (ADELE turns away.) Please don’t give me that,dear. You know I have had to take on more work sinceyour father left to fight.

ADELE: I know. Sorry.

GRETEL: How is Sarah?

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ADELE: She’s sick.

GRETEL: Be sure to give her extra blankets and tea. I’ll check onher when I get back.

ADELE: Mother?

GRETEL: Yes, dear?

ADELE: Do you think the war will ever stop?

GRETEL: I know it seems like it won’t, but it will in time.

ADELE: I hope, for Sarah’s sake, it ends soon.

GRETEL: I hope for all of our sakes that it ends soon. I know it’shard on you. I remember when I was your age; I didn’thave a care in the world. I’m sorry that you have to gothrough this. Now I’ll be back in a bit. Remember to hemMiss Louisa’s skirt.

ADELE: Stay safe, Mama. (Exit GRETEL Stage Right. EnterANNELISE Stage Right.)

ANNELISE: Adele! My brother’s uniform shirt is missing!

ADELE: How did you get in here?

ANNELISE: Your mother let me in… My brother’s shirt is missing andhe needs it for the party tonight.

ADELE: Yes, here it is.

(Enter SARAH Stage Left.)

SARAH: Adele, we don’t have any tea left.

ANNELISE: Sarah?

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(Older girls freeze, flashback begins: YOUNG ADELE and YOUNG SARAH enter fromone side and YOUNG ANNELISE from the other. Run toward each other and meet inthe middle.)

YOUNG ANNELISE: I missed you so much!

YOUNG ADELE: Never go away again!

YOUNG SARAH: A week is too long.

YOUNG ANNELISE: Don’t worry, I will never leave again! Come on,let’s play war.

(Young children leave together, flashback ends. SARAH exits in a hurry.)

ANNELISE: That’s Sarah.

ADELE: That’s my cousin.

ANNELISE: Sarah! That’s Sarah!

ADELE: You have your shirt and we have work to do.

ANNELISE: But–

ADELE: Go! (Exit ANNELISE and ADELE in oppositedirections, blackout.)

SCENE EIGHT(Lights up. ANNELISE is writing in her journal.)

ANNELISE: I keep remembering things. Memories from mychildhood. Adele and Sarah... Those were some of the happiest days of my life, when we weretogether. Today it felt like that could happenagain. I found myself wishing it could happenagain. Mother and Father would be sodisappointed if they knew what I am considering.Not to mention Viktor…

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(Enter VIKTOR.)

VIKTOR: Annelise! Annie! Annie, what are you doing on the floor?

ANNELISE: Thinking. Viktor, what are you doing here so late?

VIKTOR: Your brother invited me over for the night. I thoughtmaybe you and I could spend some time together.

ANNELISE: Oh, that’s nice.

VIKTOR: You don’t seem that happy about it.

ANNELISE: I am…

VIKTOR: Is something troubling you, Annie?

ANNELISE: I was wondering… why does all of this need to happen?

VIKTOR: What do you mean?

ANNELISE: This! The war, the suffering! What’s the point of it?

VIKTOR: To make the world a better place, of course.

ANNELISE: How is killing people doing that?

VIKTOR: We are getting rid of the filth on the earth.

ANNELISE: Who decided that… certain groups were filth?

VIKTOR: You’re talking about the Jews, aren’t you?

ANNELISE: Yes I am. Who said they were so bad?

VIKTOR: The Fuhrer did and we listen to him because he is makingthis world a better place. The Jews are an inferior race andHitler was the only one who noticed and took charge torid us of them. He is a great man. I’ll be lucky to be halfthe man that he is.

79

ANNELISE: How do we know what he is doing is right?

VIKTOR: We just do! And obviously you are too naïve to begin tounderstand what he has done for this world.

ANNELISE: I understand all that you are telling me, it has beenexplained to me since I was a child.

VIKTOR: Then you shouldn’t be questioning him.

ANNELISE: I was just thinking.

VIKTOR: Thoughts like those are trash, Annie. I don’t want to hearyou talk like that again.

ANNELISE: Please go Viktor, I just need to think.

VIKTOR: No, Annelise, you will listen to me. (Grabs ANNELISE’sarm. Enter FREDRICK.)

FREDRICK: What is going on here?

ANNELISE: Viktor was just leaving.

FREDRICK: Viktor, take a walk.

(Exit VIKTOR.)

FREDRICK: What happened, Annie?

ANNELISE: Nothing, he just got angry.

FREDRICK: Did he hurt you?

ANNELISE: No!

FREDRICK: Annie, don’t lie to me!

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ANNELISE: Fredrick.

FREDRICK: Okay, sorry. Why was he mad?

ANNELISE: Well… I was wondering about the good of the war. Hedidn’t like what I was thinking and he got mad at me.

FREDRICK: He was just trying to protect you… those kinds ofthoughts can be dangerous.

ANNELISE: I know… it was just a thought.

FREDRICK: Well, maybe keep those thoughts in your head from nowon. Or write them down in that diary.

ANNELISE: You’re not supposed to know about my journal!

FREDRICK: Sophie told me about it. Don’t worry, I haven’t read yourdiary.

ANNELISE: Journal.

FREDRICK: Whatever it is. I promise I won’t tell Mother and Father.I’m going to check on Viktor. Sophie! (Enter SOPHIE.)Why don’t you take care of your big sister?

SOPHIE: Okay! (Exit FREDRICK.) Are you okay, Annie?

ANNELISE: Yes.

SOPHIE: See, this is why you should hang out with me more. All I ever want to do is play. They don’t want to do that.There are all sorts of things wrong with them.

(Flashback.)

YOUNG ADELE: Annelise, let’s go get raisin cookies!

81

YOUNG SARAH: From the bakery with the purple sign!

YOUNG ADELE: Annelise, what are you doing?

YOUNG SARAH: Annie, listen to us!

BOTH GIRLS: Annelise, come play with us! Annie! Annie!

YOUNG SARAH, YOUNG ADELE, and SOPHIE: Annie!

ANNELISE: STOP! (Young girls scatter, end of flashback. Annelise continues talking to YOUNG SARAH and YOUNG ADELE.) I don’t want to hear it anymore!

SOPHIE: What?

ANNELISE: (ANNELISE realizes that SOPHIE is still there.) Just be quiet, Sophie. You don’t understand anything!When will you understand that I can’t play with you?

(ANNELISE rushes offstage, SOPHIE stays and cries. Enter VIKTOR.)

VIKTOR: Annie, I didn’t mean to—Oh. Sophie. Do you knowwhere Annelise is?

SOPHIE: No. What were you fighting about?

VIKTOR: Oh, just some things she was thinking.

SOPHIE: Oh, she writes everything she thinks in her new diary.I’m not allowed to touch it… but maybe you can! It’s right over there! Bye, Viktor.

(SOPHIE skips offstage. VIKTOR opens journal and begins reading, blackout.)

82

SCENE NINE(Lights up on ADELE’s house. Knocking at the door. ANNELISE enters in a hurry.)

ADELE: Why are you here, Annelise?

ANNELISE: I need to know if we can be friends, or if this is all just ahuge waste of time.

ADELE: There are things more serious than your petty worrieshappening right now. I’m sorry but you should probablyleave.

ANNELISE: I’m just trying to figure out what’s right.

ADELE: I thought you followed whatever your parents told you.Your Fuhrer’s rules.

ANNELISE: I did, I mean I do, I don’t know. Everything just seemsso… wrong.

ADELE: You don’t have to tell me that.

ANNELISE: Maybe I should just go to the party tonight and stop all ofthis foolishness.

ADELE: Maybe you should! If you are not sure, I’d rather youweren’t here right now.

ANNELISE: Everything feels wrong. I don’t know what to do, I don’tknow how to make it better.

ADELE: You were always the one who would want a happy endingwhen we played. You would make the good guys win whenwe played war.

ANNELISE: I just want to go back to when war was just a game.

ADELE: It’s not that simple. We will always be fighting, just not onthe battlefields.

83

(Enter SARAH.)

SARAH: Adele, my head hurts.

ADELE: (Feeling SARAH’s forehead.) You have a fever again.

(ANNELISE reaches toward SARAH’s teddy bear, ADELE pushes her back.)

ANNELISE: Where’d you get that teddy bear?

SARAH: I don’t know, somebody… gave it to me when I was a kid.

ANNELISE: I think I did.

SARAH: No you couldn’t, I don’t know you.

ANNELISE: I have exactly the same one in my room. I know it’s you,Sarah.

ADELE: No, this is—

ANNELISE: Stop! I’m tired of this game.

ADELE: (Realizing there’s no point trying to hide it anymore.) I remember, it was your sixth birthday.

SARAH: How come I don’t remember?

ADELE: Because you didn’t want to.

ANNELISE: What changed? We used to be best friends.

ADELE: You changed.

SARAH: You didn’t want to play with me anymore.

ANNELISE: I wasn’t allowed.

ADELE: That’s a lie!

SARAH: Adele…

84

ADELE: No! You played with us every day, shared secrets. One day your parents say you can’t see us anymore and youabandon your best friends. I’m hiding her in my attic. We didn’t change. We’re still friends and you just walk inhere and ask what changed? You did! We were like sisters.We had sleepovers, we did everything together. Now youtreat me like scum! Look at Sarah! She’s not the stronglittle girl she used to be. And you ask me what I did? What did you do, Annelise? You left. How can we forgiveyou? You’ve changed.

ANNELISE: How was I supposed to know what was right and whatwas wrong? Was I supposed to disobey my family becauseI wanted to play with my friends? You try not changingwhen your entire family is changing. I was ten! You expectme to know what was going to happen; I still don’t know!I couldn’t have made that decision.

ADELE: Where’s your loyalty? To Hitler? Don’t you know what he’sdone? Don’t you see?

ANNELISE: No! (Begins to cry.) I see.

ADELE: Don’t they teach you to be tough at that little club ofyours? I thought pretty girls didn’t cry.

SARAH: I remember… (SARAH steps in between ADELE andANNELISE as a barrier, they both turn away.) It was mysixth birthday. All I wanted was a teddy bear. And yougave me one. The exact same one that you had. I blockedit out because I didn’t want to remember. Because it hurtwhen you left us. The world is at war, but we don’t have tobe at war with each other. You said it yourself, things canchange again. For the better.

ADELE: Sarah, don’t say that! You are putting us all in danger.

GRETEL: (Offstage) Adele! I am home!

ANNELISE: I have to go. (Exit ANNELISE.)

85

SCENE TEN(ANNELISE enters to see her journal out of place, VIKTOR enters behind her.)

VIKTOR: There you are Annelise!

ANNELISE: Viktor… Were you reading my journal?

VIKTOR: (Taking book from ANNELISE.) What are you doing writingthese things?

ANNELISE: (Lunging for book.) You have no right! (Lunges and missesagain.) Give it back!

VIKTOR: Are you keeping secrets?

ANNELISE: (Grabs journal.) Of course not. Go away!

VIKTOR: Who put these thoughts in your head?

ANNELISE: I said go away!

VIKTOR: Don’t act like this!

ANNELISE: You always tell me what I should do or how I should act.I’m sick of it!

VIKTOR: I am helping you to follow the rules.

ANNELISE: I can follow the rules myself, thank you very much.

VIKTOR: Yes, your diary sure proves that. This is not how a ladyshould act.

ANNELISE: This is not how a gentleman should treat a lady.

VIKTOR: Oh, really now?

(VIKTOR pulls ANNELISE to him in a suggestive way.)

86

ANNELISE: No! (Frees herself.) I am going for a walk.

VIKTOR: No you are not! (Grabs her arm.)

ANNELISE: Let go of me! (VIKTOR slaps her, ANNELISE falls.)

VIKTOR: You will put an end to this nonsense, or I will make you.

ANNELISE: Viktor, please! Stop, Viktor!

VIKTOR: Ladies do not beg. (Exit VIKTOR. Enter FREDRICK. )

FREDRICK: Annie! Are you okay? What happened? Viktor is in a rage.He is going to tell Father something.

ANNELISE: (Stands.) Father?

FREDRICK: What happened to your face?

ANNELISE: It’s nothing. I just–

FREDRICK: Did he hurt you?

ANNELISE: No, I–

(Enter LIEUTENANT.)

LIEUTENANT: (Salutes.) Fredrick.

FREDRICK: (Salutes.) Sir.

LIEUTENANT: Your father needs you in his office. A routine street sweepwill begin in fifteen minutes.

FREDRICK: I will be right there, sir. (Exit LIEUTENANT.) I might get togo on a street sweep! Stay here, Annelise, we will talkwhen I get back. (Exit FREDRICK.)

ANNELISE: Street sweep? (Exit ANNELISE hurriedly, blackout.)

87

SCENE ELEVEN(Lights up on SARAH sleeping.)

ADELE: Sarah?

(Enter ADELE.)

ADELE: Sarah? Sarah!

SARAH: Oh, it’s you, Adele. (Sits up.)

ADELE: I came to read you some of the story. I thought that mightmake you feel better.

SARAH: Thank you.

(ADELE pulls out a book. She starts reading. SARAH listens intently. Noises heardoffstage. ADELE speaks louder as she notices SARAH getting worried.)

SARAH: Adele, what is that? Adele!

(Enter ANNELISE.)

ANNELISE: Adele! Sarah! You have to get out of here!

ADELE: Annelise, how did you find us up here?

ANNELISE: There is no time for questions, the Nazis are coming. Your mother is downstairs getting ready. You need toleave.

ADELE: I don’t believe you.

ANNELISE: There is a street sweep underway, Adele. They arechecking all the houses in your neighbourhood.

ADELE: You told them!

ANNELISE: No I didn’t.

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ADELE: Then how do they know?

ANNELISE: Adele! It is just a random street sweep. No reasonexcept for the cleansing of–(Noticing SARAH.) Noreason.

ADELE: You betrayed us! How could you do this again?!

ANNELISE: What do you need me to say? That I’m sorry? Youknow I didn’t choose this. I was just a kid when allthis started, this is how I have been raised. We’reall still kids.

ADELE: Still kids, playing war.

ANNELISE: Now come on, you really need to get moving! Yourmother is packing.

(Exit ADELE. SARAH looks at her teddy and hands it to ANNELISE.)

SARAH: Here, take it.

ANNELISE: I couldn’t.

SARAH: I won’t be able to take it! It gives me hope.Remember me, I’ll never forget you.

ANNELISE: You will be able to take it, I am getting you out ofhere.

(Scream is heard.)

ANNELISE AND SARAH: Adele!! (SARAH runs towards sounds, ANNELISEtries to stop her and fails, then follows. ADELE andGRETEL enter with Nazis holding them. SARAHfreezes.)

LIEUTENANT: (To GRETEL.) Who are these people? Are theyJews? ANSWER ME! (Pushes GRETEL to the floor.)

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GRETEL: These are my children.

NAZI #2: The blonde too? I’m sure. Do you have identificationpapers? (GRETEL looks defeated, LIEUTENANT pulls outgun.)

ANNELISE: Let them go! They have done nothing wrong. (Pulls out her identification papers.)

NAZI #1: And who are you to give orders like that, little girl?

ANNELISE: My father is Captain Fitzenburg.

NAZI #2: (Tosses papers.) Likely story. The Captain’s daughter wouldnot get caught up with this load. You are just a child stuckwith a bunch of Jews. A pretty child, but a childnonetheless.

NAZI #1: She is a pretty one, isn’t she?

NAZI #2: With those blue eyes and blonde hair… It’s a shame she’s aJew sympathizer. (ANNELISE motions for SARAH to leave.)

LIEUTENANT: Hey you! You there, where do you think you’re going?(SARAH keeps going.) Stop! (Pulls out his gun as NAZI #1holds back ADELE.) I said stop, you pig!

ANNELISE: No! (Runs toward SARAH and pulls her offstage.)

(Blackout. Three shots heard. Little girls sing. Lights up on doors.)

ADELE: They say there are six degrees of separation between everyperson. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

(Numbers 1 and 2, lights fade to black on SARAH’s door, on numbers 3 and 4, lightsfade to black on ANNELISE’s door, on numbers 5 and 6, lights fade to 10% on ADELE’sdoor.)

(Blackout.)

T he crisp cool breeze of the autumn air filled my lungs. The branchy, lankytrees swayed to and fro, their dead, multicoloured leaves dancing in thewind like honeybees as they descended to the muddy forest floor. Away

from the smoggy pollution of the city, the blue sky was filled with the sounds ofwildlife and Mother Nature herself, seamlessly melding together to create anorchestra of sounds on a grand scale that I could only admire. Amidst this marvelof nature in the Northern Boreal Forest of Ontario lay my former self, bearing aninstrument which could bring any tune nature has to offer to a grinding halt. I leaped into the forest canopy alongside my father, trusting and loving as always.I was carrying my heavy twelve gauge shotgun, weary from use yet eager to beexploited once more. It rested in my clumsy, gritty hands, waiting for its next prey.

It stood several feet from me on the ground, its glassy eyes looking onward asif oblivious to my presence. While the loaded barrel of my gun was pointed directlyat its brown feathered head, my father watched in the background with his gunpoised should I fail to shoot our prey successfully. With a simple pull of the trigger,the partridge’s feathers became caked with crimson blood, and were sent flying,raining down on the foliage like confetti. The sound of the shot echoed in my earsand sent a jostling push through my shoulder. As the smell of gunpowder filled mynostrils and the ejection of smoke vacated the gun, I observed the carnage that theonce-beautiful grouse had become, and I was filled with a sickening knowledge ofwhat must follow.

Secondary Grades 11 and 12Nonfiction

SCHOOL: St. Benedict TEACHER: Angela Hodgins


James MacNeilUNIT: Sudbury Secondary

UNIT PRESIDENT: Dan Charbonneau

by A L E X A N D R E S É N É C H A L

90

TR IGGER F INGER

91

In my family, tradition holds that you must clean whatever prey you kill. A sickening feeling filled my stomach as, with a pitiful glance down at the mangledand bloody corpse, I pinned the creature’s legs down on the ground with my feetand began to pull on its legs, severing its feathers from its flesh and exposing itsinnards. Though I was not the one receiving this cruelty, it was as if in some way Iwas, for as I pulled at the grouse’s innards and removed its entrails, it was as thoughmy very being was subjected to the torture. At this moment, my childlike qualitieswere forcibly ripped from my own body, leaving behind only a hollow shell ofroughness, pity and pain. When the work was done, I rose to my feet, no longer thesame person. I stared down at the blood on my hands and was disheartened by theloss of life before me. Meanwhile, my father praised me for my marksmanship andnewfound manhood. Satisfied that its task had been fulfilled, I picked up my gun,my spoil of fresh bird meat, and continued on, a changed person.

In planning for this trip, my father had taken the day off from work so that hecould go hunting alone with his eldest son for the first time. Though I hadattempted to get some sleep during our ride to the hunting grounds, I found myselfincapable of doing so. This was due to my absurd excitement over the prospect of killing something in an attempt to prove to my father how grown up,independent and tough I had become. I was unaware, then, of how this experiencewould change me.

Arriving at the hunting grounds, we unpacked and loaded our guns, put on ourorange clothing, and headed out into the forest trails, stalking our prey. Initially, Iroamed freely and nonchalantly, savouring the senses of the forest, beforebecoming more vigilant and on guard for any bird that could have crossed our path.After a few hours of searching, the bounty of the forest was finally revealed to us inthe form of a ruffled grouse with a slick and slender face, an ambling body andshort black tail feathers. My father spotted it and told me to take up my arm andprepare to shoot. I pointed the long barrel of my gun at the bird and waited for theprecise moment to fire. At this point, my thoughts began to swim and my emotionsran rampant, originally wanting to kill the bird, but then taking pity on it.Uncertainty building within me, I tried to decipher the consequences of my pullingthe trigger. However, I did not comprehend the magnitude of how such a simpletask could have such a profound impact on me as quickly as it did. I suppose thatlike much in life, at the moment something happens, we do not understand thegravity of the things we do and how deep their results can dig into our lives. It isonly with hindsight that we realize that the delicacy of events and how they play

92

out are due to our actions and choices, and that we must accept them. After we pullthe trigger on the guns of the most memorable moments of our lives, we must bewilling to take the bullets that are produced by them, and keep moving forward.

After setting the sights of my gun on the bird and initiating my own emotionalconundrum, I looked back at my father. He was grinning at me with a gleam in hiseye that could only be read as a sign of how excited, proud, and desperate he wasfor me to carry on. So right then and there, I attempted to fight my fear of killingthe bird and steeled myself so that I might fulfill my task. I looked straight at thebird, and with a look of hate mixed with a tinge of regret, firmly planted my feetinto the loose soil, and pulled the trigger.

PRIX JEUNES

ÉCRIVAINS

2013

•


•

PRIX JEU

NES ÉCRIVAINS

•YOUNG

AUTHORS AWAR

DS

•

PRIX

JEUNES ÉCRIV

AINS

J’aime Papa.

J’aime Maman.

J’aime la pizza.

J’aime le papillon.

J’aime le Pepsi.

J’aime Larlas.

J’aime le biscuit.

J’aime le soleil.

ElementaryJunior and SeniorKindergartenShort Story

SCHOOL: Our Lady of Mount CarmelTEACHER: Allyson Adams


Allyson AdamsUNIT: Algonquin-LakeshoreUNIT PRESIDENT: Bob Giasson

by SO P H I E L AT H AM

95

J ’A IME

Un Inukshuk

Une personne un visage

Debout se sent triste aider

Un Inukshuk reste debout pour aider avec les directions.

Mes parents

ElementaryJunior and SeniorKindergartenPoem

SCHOOL: Jean VanierTEACHER: Linda Cinelli


Joyce McLean-SeelyUNIT: Brant Haldimand NorfolkUNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald

by EMMA S M I T H

96

UN INUKSHUK

J’ai deux grenouilles.

Elles sont vertes.

Elles nagent.

Elles sautent.

Elles sont petites.

ElementaryJunior and SeniorKindergartenNonfiction

SCHOOL: St. Joseph CatholicFrench Immersion CentreTEACHER:Michelle Green




by S T E P H A N I E R O S E Z A HORODN Y S M I T H

97

GRENOUILLES

Il était une fois un chien et un garçon qui ont trouvé un animal. Il veut l’animal.« Ô je peux raconter une histoire. » Partout, partout, il y a des différents oiseauxbleus et jaunes. Ils chantent, « Ti, ti, ti. » « Oh bonjour, je m’appelle Jack Froste a a a…Biscuit ô, c’est mon chien Biscuit.

Toutes les personnes disent ‘Pourquoi j’ai ce bâton?’ C’est très facile. Si je touchequelque chose cette chose se transforme en stalactite. Oh non, ne fais pas çaencore! Oh non, aaa… Tu es un drôle de chien. Tu es gelé. Où vas-tu, Biscuit?Qu’est-ce que c’est? » « Rafe, rafe. » Biscuit va regarder qui est là. « Rafe, rafe. »« Okay, je vais trouver ces animaux. » Un animal se cache dans la forêt. C’est la nuit et mes amis viennent. Voilà je

vois les lucioles mais ils ne bougent pas. Je vais regarder. Biscuit vient et il trouveun lémurien dans notre jungle. Mais qu’est-ce qu’il fait ici? Maintenant c’est l’hiver. Je veux voir où il va. Je veux qu’il vienne avec moi. « Je veux donner à tout le monde des biscuits » dit Jack, mais il a peur. Le

lémurien fait un son, « Di, di, di » quand il voit les petits biscuits. Il s’arrête de joueravec les lucioles et les petites lucioles fait un chemin qui brille. Le lémurien va avecJack. Après il arrive à la maison et il ne veut pas donner les biscuits au lémurien.

Il mange les biscuits et le lémurien pense que Jack est un biscuit. Il commence àjouer avec Jack. Le garçon crie, « Au secours! » Le chien court après le garçon.


SCHOOL: Our Lady of PeaceTEACHER: Solina Panza-Di Girolamo


Sandra GersondéUNIT: York


by E L I Z A B E T H VA S S Y LY E V

98

JACK FROSTE ET LE LÉMUR IEN

99

Biscuit et Jack courent dans la maison et ils prennent un biscuit et le donne aulémurien. Le lémurien mange et il dort dans l’arbre. Jack et le chien ne bougent pas. Le garçon se lève mais il ne voit pas le lémurien.

Il a très peur. Il pense qu’il a perdu son ami pour toujours. Il veut trouver lelémurien. Il court et court et il voit un bateau avec une personne qui rit et dit, « Tu veux être dans le zoo? » Mais le lémurien est triste. Il ne sait pas quoi faire.Jack Froste court sur l’eau et il saute sur le bateau. Jack dit « Arrête le bateau. » Mais il n’arrête pas. Il dit: « Bon week-end. » Il touche le bâton et le garçon tombe dans le trou. Le garçon trouve le lémurien et ses amies les lucioles qui sont tous tristes.

Après quand ils voient les autres animaux, ils disent: « Je veux trouver commentnous allons à notre maison. » Le lémurien voit la lune et il dit: « Aide-nous, Madame Lune. » La lune dit: « Oui, mon ami, Monsieur Soleil, sait faire de la chaleur et de la

lumière. » La personne dans le bateau qui ne s’arrête pas, il a chaud. Il va sur la plage

et Jack Froste ouvre la porte des animaux et la porte du bateau et les animauxcourent et courent. Jack Froste et son chien voient le lémurien qui court vers eux.Jack dit: « Je veux être ton ami pour toujours. »Après deux semaines, le lémurien commence à parler, jouer, danser, et faire le

déjeuner. Ils vivent tous heureux.

La fin.

Il y a un lutin qui habite dans un moulin.

Il va dans un avionet mange des bonbons.

Il achète une chauve-sourisqui mange des fruits.

Il voit un magicien qui se transforme en chien.

Le chien voyage dans un bateauet fait un beau dodo.

Bonne Nuit.


SCHOOL: Immaculate ConceptionTEACHER: Giovanna GiulianoSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Frank MalonyUNIT: York


by N I C HO L A S F R A N C E S CO K A R A N TA K I S

100

LE LUT IN

La célébration

Ma famille célèbre le festival des tomates à la fin d’aout ou au début de septembre.Pendant cette célébration nous faisons de la sauce tomate pour toute l’année.

La Recette

Nous faisons la sauce tomate avec deux ingrédients:

1. Des morceaux de tomates mûres2. Un morceau de basilic frais

Les tomates sont cultivées à la ferme. Mon grand-père cultive le basilic dans sonjardin.

Les outils

Nous n’avons pas de décorations pour cette célébration. Au lieu, nous avons besoindes outils pour faire la sauce. Nous utilisons:

Des bocauxDes couverclesDes grands paniers


SCHOOL: Our Lady of PeaceTEACHER:Maria-Teresa OrtizSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Sandra GersondéUNIT: York


by EMMA AC C A R D I

101

LE FEST IVAL DES TOMATES

102

Des seauxUne cuillèreUn couteauDe l’eauUne grande marmite

Les activités spéciales

La première chose pour le festival des tomates c’est d’acheter les tomates à la ferme.Quand les tomates sont mûres nous lavons les tomates dans les seaux. Même lesenfants peuvent aider.

Puis les adultes découpent les tomates. C’est mon travail de mettre les morceauxdans les bocaux. Nous mettons les couvercles et en suite nous mettons les bocauxdans la grande marmite pour cuisiner.

La musique

Nous écoutons la musique italienne que mon grand-père aime.

Les vêtements

Pendant le festival des tomates on porte les vieux vêtements d’été avec un tablier.

Je suis content.

J’aime manger les pates avec la sauce!

La fin.

I l était une fois un bébé monstre qui s’appelait Jasper. Jasper aimait jouer, maisne pas aller au lit. Un jour, Jasper regardait par la fenêtre et a vu la neige quitombait. « LA NEIGE! » il a crié après sa mère. Malheureusement, elle ne le

croyait pas. Jasper est parti de la maison dès que possible. Il a fait ses valises maistout ce qu’il avait dedans était…

DES BONBONS!!

Il y avait un grand arbre près de la fenêtre de la chambre de Jasper qui était pleind’écureuils. Les écureuils sont rentrés par la fenêtre et ont mangé tous ses bonbons!Donc, Jasper a décidé d’aller au restaurant pour manger un grand repas despaghetti. Cependant, il n’avait pas assez d’argent pour payer le facture de son repasalors le patron du restaurant l’a mit à la porte.

Pendant ce temps, Jasper a vue une voiture avec un panneau qui disait Lavage deVoiture Gratuit! Mais une partie de l’affiche était couvert alors il pensait que çadisait Voiture Gratuit! Alors, il a pris la voiture et l’a conduit aussi vite qu’il pouvait.Cependant, les policiers lui ont arrêté en faisant un excès de 50 km/h et quand lespoliciers lui ont demandé son permis de conduire il n’en avait pas pour les montrer.


SCHOOL: St. Joseph, AuroraTEACHER: Kathleen BaldwinSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

James DonaldsonUNIT: York


by MORG AN G I A MOV

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MON BÉBÉ MONSTRE

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Il a commencé à se promener à la maison quand il a vu une affiche pour des leçonsde guitare. Alors tout de suite, il s’est inscris pour les leçons. À la première leçonquand il jouait à la guitare, devinez ce qui est arrivé? Il a gratté les cordes de laguitare si forte qu’il les a brisées! Il était triste car il ne pouvait plus jouer à laguitare. Donc, il est retourné chez lui.

Il a continué de marcher jusqu’à ce qu’il est finalement arrivé chez lui. En voyantle visage de sa mère, Jasper était heureux.

La Fin!

L’école est difficile,elle est difficile à cause de la science.

La science est difficile,elle est difficile à cause des testes de science.

Voilà pourquoi l’école est difficile.

L’école est où tu apprends les choses,tu apprends l’art.

Tu peux dessiner et être créatif.Voilà pourquoi j’aime l’école.

L’école est difficile,c’est difficile à cause de la danse.Tu dois apprendre les étapes et

les souvenir.Voilà pourquoi l’école est difficile.

L’école est amusante.C’est amusant parce que tu peux jouer,apprendre les choses, et voir tes amis.Vous pouvez aussi aller visiter le terrain.Voilà pourquoi l’école est amusante

et difficile en même temps.


SCHOOL: St. Margaret of ScotlandTEACHER: Carmelina SalituroSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Lucy CavarUNIT: Dufferin-Peel Elementary


by MAR I E L L E GO RO S P E M E R C A DO

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L’ÉCOLE

D’abord, le renard est orange alors que le puma est brun.

Puis, le renard est la même taille que le puma.

Après, le renard est dans la famille des chiens et le puma est dansla famille des chats.

Aussi, le renard mange des petites grenouilles et il mange despetits animaux, alors que le puma mange des chevreuils, des oiseauxet d’autres animaux.

Finalement, le renard ressemble à un chien alors que le pumaressemble à un chat.


SCHOOL: Jean VanierTEACHER: Dominique MartinSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Joyce McLean-SeelyUNIT: Brant Haldimand NorfolkUNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald

by K AT E S U N - H E E K I M

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UN RENARD, UN PUMA

J e m’appelle Georges. Je suis un casier dans l’école Mille Crayons. C’est le moisde septembre. Cette année je vais avoir un nouvel élève parce que mon élèvePierre est parti à l’Université.

J’espère que mon nouvel élève ne sera pas pire que Pierre. Tu ne connais pasPierre? Il était tellement organisé. Il mettait toujours beaucoup de livres sur mesétagères. Il me donnait un mal de tête parce qu’il nettoyait tout le temps. J’ai desallergies!

C’est le premier jour de l’école. Voilà Robert, c’est mon nouvel élève. Il est grandet fort, et il a les cheveux bruns et raides. Il à les yeux brun foncé et il a un sourirede toutes ses dents. Il port un chandail de football américain parce qu’il est undéfendeur de son équipe de football.

Ah, Robert retourne de sa classe d’éducation physique. Dès qu’il ouvre maporte, je sens la mauvaise odeur des chaussettes et des vêtements plein de sueur.Oh, qu’est-ce qu’il fait? Il lance ses choses sales sur mes étagères. Je vais vomir. Ça pue! Attends, ce n’est pas tout, ça devient pire!

Robert ouvre son sac à lunch et qu’est-ce que je sens? C’est l’odeur d’unsandwich qui est resté dans son sac pour une semaine déjà. Au secours! Je penseque Robert ne sais pas que moi, je ne peux pas prendre une douche.


SCHOOL: Canadian MartyrsTEACHER: Hilde Acx


Michael U’RenUNIT:Waterloo


by M I E K E W I L K I N SON

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LA V IE D ’UN CAS IER DANS UNEÉCOLE SECONDAIRE

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Deux mois après, je suis plein à hauteur de taille avec ce qui a l’air d’un tas dechoses qui a besoin d’un bon désodorisant, comme Febreeze.

(Soupire) Combien de mois jusqu’à la fin de l’école?

J’aime le concierge parce qu’il me nettoie avec du citron et de l’eau. Je rêved’une belle fille qui ne va pas me donner des allergies et qui me laisserait respirer.

J’espère que vous allez prendre soin de vos casiers!

Merci bien de votre attention!

Je vois un dinosaure immense.C’est un herbivore, je pense.Je le suis à son abri.C’est une grosse forêt avec ses amis.Après, je vois des œufs,Ils sont gros comme un petit bœuf.Maintenant, j’entends un gros bruit.Les carnivores s’attaquent à lui.Ils bougent, ils mordent, ils sautent,Ce n’est pas leurs fautes.Ils le mangent pour leur survie.C’est comme une mélancolie.Les herbivores vont courir,C’est un temps pour rire.Les carnivores vont venir.J’ai maintenant beaucoup de pitiéCar les herbivores seront tués.Un jour, tout le monde sera mort, Même les gens qui sont forts.Je viens avec les carnivores,Et tout le monde a peur, mais ils ont tort.Ils viennent très proche de mon corps.Je vois que c’est ma mèreEt l’autre est son père.Je vois une chose dans le ciel.Cela ressemble à un nuage de sitelles.


SCHOOL: Good ShepherdTEACHER: Ghislaine Laflèche-

TrépanierSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Kim HopkinsUNIT: Ottawa


by K E V I N WA N

109

LES D INOSAURES

L a musique inspire des millions de personnes tous les jours. Il y a beaucoupde différents genres de musique : le rock, le country, le pop, et le hip hop.Beaucoup d’enfants et adolescents d’aujourd’hui aiment beaucoup la

musique très forte avec un rythme très rapide comme le rap. J’aime beaucoup lamusique country, le rock, le pop, les nouvelles et les vieilles chansons. Meschanteurs et mes groupes favoris sont les Beatles, Ed Sherran, One Direction,Regina Spector et F.U.N.La musique t’aide quand tu as un mauvais jour et quand tu es triste. Elle te rend

contente et te donne de l’énergie. Dans les chansons, tu peux reconnaitredifférentes émotions comme l’excitation, la surprise et aussi la tristesse. Le rythmeme fait danser et j’aime écouter les mots, les messages transmis dans ces certaineschansons.La musique change beaucoup avec le temps qui passe. Au début dans les années

cinquante, le rock and roll était très simple et doux mais maintenant le rock est trèsfort et dur. Maintenant nous avons le rap, qui est un type de musique qui ressembleun peu au hip hop. On y retrouve le même rythme.La musique c’est une chose que tu ne peux pas expliquer car c’est incroyable et

cela c’est exactement pourquoi elle me passionne. La musique est une grosse partiede ma vie. Depuis que je suis petite tout ce que mes oreilles entendent c’est lamusique. Tous les jours j’écoute de la musique et je chante juste pour le plaisirparce que c’est divertissant. Je pense que je ne veux jamais vivre sans la musiquecar mon monde serait trop différent.


SCHOOL: Good ShepherdTEACHER: Ghislaine Laflèche-

TrépanierSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Kim HopkinsUNIT: Ottawa


by MAGG I E WOOD S

110

LA MUS IQUE

U ne nuit, il y a très longtemps, dans un petit village, une fille s’assoit dans sapetite chambre à coucher après un long jour de travail, au château du RoiEdwin d’Arithia. Elle regarde ses longs cheveux bruns, laids sur sa tête, et

son gros corps. Elle porte un vieux t-shirt. Les gens n’aiment pas cette fille parcequ’elle est laide. Elle est très triste mais elle a un grand cœur. Elle ne sait pas qu’elleest belle à l’intérieur. Elle pense: « Pourquoi est-ce que je ne suis pas belle? Pourquoiest-ce que ma vie est comme ça? » Mais, deux jours plus tard, tout a changé!Voici l’histoire d’une petite fille, grosse et laide, qui s’appelle Étoile. Étoile

habite dans une petite maison dans le village d’Arithia, avec son père, George, etson frère, Pierre. Sa mère, qui s’appelait Luna, avait été mystérieusementassassinée quand Étoile était petite enfant. Mais, ça c’est pour une autre histoire.Le village d’Arithia est situé près d’une grande forêt, au pied d’une montagne

dans un pays lointain. Une déesse nommée Arithina habite dans le ciel près de lamontagne. Elle est une légende dans le village. Elle a le pouvoir de transformer unepersonne ordinaire, sinon laide, en une personne de grâce et d’intelligence. Mais,ce n’est pas Arithina à qui Étoile pense ce soir, elle pense plutôt à sa famille.Depuis la mort de sa mère, son père est malade et ne peut pas travailler, et tout

va très mal pour la famille. C’est un après-midi triste et sombre d’automne, quandle père d’Étoile informe Étoile et son frère qu’ils n’ont pas de nourriture. Étoile abesoin de travailler pour aider son père et son petit frère. Ils ont faim. Mais qu’est-ce qu’elle peut faire?La nuit arrivée, elle part de la maison. Elle décide d’aller au village. Elle cherche

de la nourriture dans le village. Elle cherche et cherche pour quelqu’un gentil quipeut lui donner de la nourriture pour sa famille. Mais personne ne veut l’aider. «Pourquoi est-ce que je voudrais donner du pain à une personne laide, comme toi?


SCHOOL: St. Joseph, GuelphTEACHER: Ed McAnany


Traci Coulas-GacaUNIT:Wellington

UNIT PRESIDENT: Jim Whitechurch

by A ND R E A I . M ON T E A L E G R E

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LE COLL IER MAG IQUE

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» les gens disent. Elle continue d’être très triste. Étoile crie: « Ma famille n’a pas denourriture parce que je suis laide?! » Étoile décide de retourner à la maison. Mais elle ne sait pas qu’elle marche dans

la mauvaise direction. Elle ne sait pas où elle va. Elle se trouve dans une ruemystérieuse. Elle est perdue. Elle panique et commence à courir, elle court trèsvite. Elle ne sait pas où elle va. Elle ne regarde pas où elle va. Tout à coup, ellefrappe contre quelqu’un!C’est une fille. Elle a des cheveux brillants et c’est la nuit…est-ce possible? La

personne porte une robe magnifique, toute blanche, avec des fleurs et des rubans.Étoile pense: « Est-ce que c’est vraiment elle? C’est de la folie… c’est impossible…» Mais, c’est vrai: elle est dans la présence de la Déesse Arithina. Arithina regardeÉtoile dans les yeux. Tout à coup, elle monte au ciel! Mais elle oublie son collier.Étoile prend le collier et crie: « Arithina, tu as oublié ton collier! Retourne ici! »Mais Arithina ne répond pas.Le collier est lumineux. « Peut-être c’est magique? » pense-t-elle. Il est

magnifique. Quelque chose dans le collier force Étoile à le porter. Elle place lecollier sur son cou. Le collier aide Étoile à retourner à sa petite maison.Instantanément, le collier donne à Étoile de l’intelligence et elle trouve la rue de samaison. Quand elle arrive, elle trouve la maison plus grande! « Qu’est-ce qui se passe?

Est-ce que c’est à cause du collier? » Étoile est très fatiguée donc elle va a sa petitechambre à coucher, mais elle trouve sa chambre plus grande aussi! Elle s’endort trèsvite.Le lendemain matin, elle se réveille. Elle touche le collier avec sa main. Elle se

lève et regarde sa réflexion dans le miroir. Son gros corps est devenu délicat commeune princesse. Le collier a transformé Étoile, car elle est belle maintenant!Maintenant elle est belle à l’extérieur, et à l’intérieur.Étoile va au château du Roi d’Arithia pour travailler. Les princes, qui s’appellent

Harry, Louis, Liam, Nial et Zayn, voient Étoile et demandent: « Qui est tu? » « Jesuis Étoile, » elle dit, confuse. Ils sont surpris de voir comme elle est belle. « Tu n’espas Étoile, parce qu’elle est trop laide! » rient Louis, Liam, Nial et Zayn. « Mais si,c’est moi! » Elle enlève le collier. Les princes sont étonnés que sa beauté ait disparu.Sauf pour Harry! Il continue de la trouver belle, non parce qu’elle est belle àl’extérieur mais parce qu’elle est toujours belle à l’intérieur.

….Deux mois plus tard, Étoile épouse le Prince Harry et elle est devenue la plus

belle princesse d’Arithia. Étoile ne porte plus le collier parce qu’elle se rend contequ’elle n’en a pas besoin. Depuis ce temps, la famille d’Étoile n’a plus faim.

….La morale de cette histoire est : « L’habit ne fait pas le moine! » ou « Ce n’est

pas important comment vous êtes à l’extérieur, mais ce que vous êtes à l’intérieur,ça, c’est ce qui est important. »

Cette histoire est à suivre…

Moi, une fille abracadabrantecomme une étoile filante.Laquelle a une famille nucléairequi ne doit pas se faire dire de se taire.Un chien qui est un chat,il grimpe partout et a un penchant pour les bas.Père et mère,formidablement fiers et extraordinaires.Puis mon frère en dernier,semblant à un chien qui a bu trop d’eau Perrier.

Moi, une fille avec excessivement de passe-temps,c’est même rendu hallucinant.Écouter de la musique mélodique tous les jours et nuits,sans faire aucun autre bruit.Ou lire des romans de tous les genres,ceux-là les plus brindezingues et multicolores.Même voyager est inclusjusqu’aux endroits les plus audacieux.En définitive, faire de la bicyclette, du camping et du skisont aussi les meilleurs passe-temps d’aujourd’hui.


SCHOOL: St. Joseph CatholicFrench Immersion Centre

TEACHER: Nathalie McDermottSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:



by A LY SON A L L E N

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UNE F ILLE QU I EST… MOI !

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Moi, une fille avec des apparences physiquesqui sont seulement uniques.Des lunettes mauves fabuleuses,donc pourquoi être chialeuse?Les dents droites après avoir eu des broches pour des années,qui ressemblent également à un simple morceau de papier.Les cheveux châtains et efféminés,en train de s’allonger, lequel prend une éternité.À une grandeur de seulement cinq pieds et un,on n’a donc presque rien en commun.

Moi, une fille avec plusieurs qualités, c’est même dur de connaître juste la moitié.En premier, étant bilingue, on peut me considérer intelligent,pour se rendre là, il a fallu être naturellement patient.Puis, la créativité que mon cerveau peut réellement produireest si unique que c’est dur de le faire fuir.D’autres qualités peuvent être reconnues,si vous me connaissez, c’est juste comme ça qu’elles sont obtenues.

Moi, une fille vraiment pas ordinaire,c’est probablement les effets de tous les téléphones cellulaires.Je suis une fille, une fille qui est moi.Une fille fascinante, et c’est sûr, je ne suis pas comme toi!

LE GUIDE: Bonjour tout le monde! Je suis votre guide pour letour de la grotte de Saint-Elzéar, et mon nom estAngelica. J’espère que vous apprécierez la beauténaturelle de ces cavernes!

ZACK, JOHNNY, et EVAN: Bonjour, Angelica.

ANGELICA: Pour la sécurité, vous devez assurer votreéquipement. Assurez-vous que vous avez uncasque protecteur avec une lampe, des gants, desvêtements chauds, de bonnes bottes, et unecombinaison imperméable. Allumez votreécouteur–vous devez m’entendre.

EVAN: Pourquoi est-ce qu’on a des écouteurs?

ElementaryGrades 7 and 8Play

SCHOOL: St. MaryTEACHER: Jill Mercer


Heather ElsieUNIT: Halton Elementary

UNIT PRESIDENT: Richard Brock

by J O H N N Y D E L I S I M U NOV I C , Z AC K E R Y M A R T I N S ,A N G E L I C A S I N G H , and E VA N J A M E S S Q U I R E

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LA TÂCHE F INALE

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ANGELICA: Si vous êtes perdu, je peux vous guider versl’entrée ou vers le groupe.

JOHNNY: Alors, si je pousse Zack dans cette rivière…

ANGELICA: Ne faites pas ça! Il peut mourir.

JOHNNY: Whoops.

ANGELICA: Est-ce que vous avez vérifié tout l’équipement?Mettez les casques protecteurs, allumez leslampes, et on y va!

Après vingt minutes…

EVAN: Qu’est-ce que c’est, ce puits ici?

ANGELICA: N’allez pas vers ça! C’est trop dangereux!

EVAN: Aaaaaah!

ZACK: On non! Evan, ça va?

EVAN: Ça va, mais je pense que je suis tombé sur malampe!

ANGELICA: Où êtes-vous? Qu’est-ce que vous voyez dans cettegalerie?

EVAN: Je ne peux pas voir beaucoup, il y a beaucoup deglace.

JOHNNY: Entendez-vous des chauves-souris?

EVAN: Non! Mais c’est très froid dans cette salle–je peuxvoir mon haleine!

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ANGELICA: Je pense que tu es dans la salle de glace!Maintenant voyez-vous la raison pour lesécouteurs?

ZACK: Ça c’est vrai!

EVAN: Oui, oui, je comprends! Alors, est-ce que tu peuxrévéler la sortie?

ANGELICA: À la droite de la salle, il y a un bloc de glace géant. Ne touchez pas! Si vous touchez, il y a despersonnes congelées qui peuvent se réveiller!Alors, marchez loin de ma voix–si vous pouvezentendre la glace qui casse sous vos pieds, vousallez dans la bonne direction!

EVAN: Je peux sentir quelque chose qui brule!

ANGELICA: Oui! Continuez.

EVAN: Qu’est-ce que c’est?

ZACK: Est-ce qu’il y a un problème?

ANGELICA: Est-ce que vous voyez un petit puits de lave?

EVAN: Oui! Comment est-ce qu’il y a de la glace à coté dela lave?

ZACK et JOHNNY: Quoi?!

ANGELICA: Je ne sais pas, mais est-ce que vous pouvez sentirbeaucoup de choses qui brulent maintenant?N’allez pas vers les puits, ou vous brulerez!

EVAN: Je peux entendre les bulles qui éclatent! Qu’est-ceque c’est?

118

ANGELICA: La lave qui coule! Ne touchez pas!

EVAN: Qu’est-ce que c’est cette roche noir à coté des puitsde lave?

JOHNNY: Oh! Je sais! C’est le charbon!

ZACK: Le charbon? Dans une caverne?

ANGELICA: Oui! C’est comme des roches très brulées.

EVAN: Comment est-ce que je sors de cette salle?

ANGELICA: Il y a un tunnel loin des puits de lave. Allez dans letunnel jusqu'à ce que vous voyiez une salle avec uncasque protecteur par terre.

EVAN: Pourquoi est-ce que c’est là?

ANGELICA: Est-ce que vous êtes dans cette salle? Ne touchezpas l’équipement par terre–c’est la salle du garçonperdu.

ZACK, JOHNNY, et EVAN: Garçon perdu?!

ANGELICA: Oui. Dans cette salle, il y avait un garçon quifaisait de la spéléologie toute seule. Personne nesait ce qui lui est arrivé.

EVAN: J’ai touché la corde par terre. Elle est trèsrugueuse–et je pense que la lampe sur son casqueprotecteur est allumée!

ANGELICA: Oui. Est-ce que vous pouvez entendre une voix?

EVAN: Non! J’ai peur maintenant! Comment est-ce que jesors? Vite!

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ANGELICA: Allez à gauche et entrez dans la salle avec desbruits bizarres.

EVAN: Il y a un petit étang–et je pense que je vois despoissons!

ZACK: Attrape un poisson pour mon diner!

ANGELICA: Vous pouvez toucher l’eau dans l’étang. C’est trèsfroid!

EVAN: Je sens des poissons!

JOHNNY: Duh–il y a beaucoup de poissons dans l’étang!

ANGELICA: Est-ce que vous entendez l’eau qui coule? J’aime beaucoup ce bruit. C’est très calme.

EVAN: Je pense que ça c’est la sortie! C’est le tunnel àcoté de l’étang!

ANGELICA: Oui! Allez dans le tunnel!

EVAN: Bonjour tout le monde! J’ai échappé la grotte!

ZACK et JOHNNY: Bienvenue!

ANGELICA: Ne te sépare jamais de ton groupe et toujours faisl’exploration avec un partenaire, s’il vous plait!

EVAN: Je serai sensible! Je suis désolé!

ANGELICA: Bien! Alors, ça c’est assez d’exploration. On va aupuits maintenant!

ZACK, JOHNNY, et EVAN: Oui!

C ’est une nuit orageuse et sombre et tu es dans ta chambre tout seul. Tout àcoup, tu entends un bruit étrange. Tu peux entendre des pas dans lecorridor, mais il n’y a personne. Soudainement, une chose transparente et

lumineuse apparaît devant toi. Tu te sens très effrayé et tu as des frissons. C’est unFANTÔME! Ou, tu penses que c’est un fantôme…. La question auquel je vaisrépondre aujourd’hui est « Est-ce que les fantômes existent? » Alors venez avec moiau monde des fantômes pour découvrir la réponse!Beaucoup de personnes pensent que les fantômes n’existent pas. L’idée de

l’existence des êtres surnaturels peut sembler effrayante, déconcertante ou ridiculepour des gens. Il y a beaucoup d’arguments contre l’existence des fantômes.Quelques personnes débattent la notion que les fantômes sont seulement uneillusion visuelle et mentale. As-tu déjà eu la sensation que quelqu’un te regarde? Unsentiment de terreur inexplicable? Il y a des gens qui croient que cela est à causede la réaction du cerveau aux changements de la lumière, du son, et de latempérature dans l’environnement. D’autres personnes disent que cela est à causede l’infrason. L’infrason est un son si bas qu’on ne peut pas l’entendre mais tesoreilles peuvent encore le détecter. Cela confuse ton cerveau parce qu’il ne peut pasdistinguer d’où vient ce sentiment étrange, et ça cause une sensation de panique oude peur. Étrange, n’est-ce pas? Mais on ne peut pas être sûr que les fantômesn’existent pas parce que la science ne peut pas réfuter l’existence des fantômes.


SCHOOL: Guardian AngelsTEACHER: Valerie Mackay


Valerie MackayUNIT: Halton Elementary

UNIT PRESIDENT: Richard Brock

by MAR I A PA Z B E C E R R A

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LES FANTÔMES

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Néanmoins, beaucoup de personnes croient que les fantômes existent. Savez-vous que dans un recensement mené par CBS nouvelles, la majorité de personnescroient que les fantômes existent? Et savez-vous qu’un sur cinq personnes autourdu monde prétendent qu’ils ont eu une expérience avec des êtres surnaturels? Et laplupart de ces personnes n’ont aucune maladie mentale! Les sceptiques prétendentque comme la science ne peut pas prouver que les fantômes existent, cela veut direqu’ils n’existent pas–mais cela est une grande déclaration si on prend enconsidération la quantité de personnes qui prétendent avoir eu une expériencesurnaturelle. Il y a aussi beaucoup de preuves auditives et photographiques desfantômes. Malgré qu’il y ait beaucoup de preuves fausses, il y a aussi beaucoup depreuves très étranges qui ne peuvent pas être expliqués et qui n’auraient pas pu êtremodifiées ou éditées d’aucune façon. Quelle est l’explication de tout ça? Commentest-ce que tant de personnes ont vu, entendu, ou d’une manière eu une expérienceavec un fantôme s’ils n’existent pas?Alors, est-ce que les fantômes existent? On ne sera jamais certain. Il y a

beaucoup de preuves qu’ils existent, mais il y a aussi beaucoup d’arguments contrel’existence des fantômes. Comme la science ne peut ni réfuter ni prouverl’existence des fantômes, elle va rester un mystère pour longtemps.Personnellement, je crois que les fantômes existent. Mais maintenant, j’ai unequestion pour vous. Est-ce que vous pensez que les fantômes existent?

L’été de la troisième année a été celui de ma première expédition de canoë-camping avec le camp Hurontario. C’était ma première expérience face àface avec la nature, avec l’abandon.

Nous étions partis deux jours plus tôt, en pagayant l’eau étincelante de la baiedu camp sous un beau soleil d’après-midi, dans nos bateaux équipés de tout lenécessaire pour accomplir notre modeste excursion de cinq jours dans la BaieGeorgienne. À cet instant-là, tous mes sentiments de liberté et de hâte étaientremplacés par de l’angoisse et du découragement. Ce matin-là, il avait été décidé desauter le petit déjeuner, dû aux probabilités d’averses et la durée du trajet de lajournée. Puis tout a tourné pour le pire. À peine une heure avant notre départ, ledéluge a commencé et les préparatifs de départ piétinaient. Après avoir complété, avec peine, les multiples portages boueux et infestés de

moustiques, nous sommes arrivés au site. La pluie avait redoublé de puissance,nous étions tous gelés et crevions de faim. Mais puisqu’il ne semblait avoir aucunsigne promettant un meilleur temps, avant qu’elles ne puissent faire détremperd’avantage, les tentes ont été érigées à la hâte, accumulant dans le processus desflaques.Cependant, le froid et la pluie n’étaient pas en tête de nos inquiétudes, mais

bien la faim. Il devait bien être trois heures de l’après-midi, quand vint le temps deramasser du bois pour faire un feu et chauffer la nourriture, qui semblait bien êtrela seule chose toujours sèche dans les barils de provisions. Dans l’état de mort


SCHOOL: Bishop Allen AcademyTEACHER:Martin Clough

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE: AndrewMacDonald

UNIT: Toronto SecondaryUNIT PRESIDENT: René Jansen in de Wal

by V I N C E N T G I R A R D

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AU F IL DE L’EAU

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vivant, nous nous sommes avancées dans cette forêt qui semblait être dépourvue debois mort, et encore moins de bois sec. Finalement, par défaut de ne pas avoir puquitter nos feux, nous avions rejoint nos tentes, avec un morceau de sandwich aubeurre d’arachides détrempé, en se demandant pourquoi nous avions eu l’idéed’embarquer dans cette aventure.Dans la tente mouillée, nous avons installé nos sacs de couchage, essayant

d’éviter les flaques. Tout ce que l’on pouvait entendre était le battement de la pluiesur notre tente. Même les plus plaintifs s’étaient tus, réalisant que ça ne changeraitguère la situation de raconter leurs mésaventures à ceux qui les vivaient avec eux.Nous pensions tous à la même chose, ce sentiment d’abandon, que nous avions étédélaissés dans la nature, et comment nous avions le gout de retourner dans leconfort de nos maisons climatisées et pleines de nourriture.C’est avec ce sentiment que moi, mes amis et nos moniteurs, nous en doutons,

nous sommes endormis. Le lendemain matin, tel dans tous films à la fin heureuse,le soleil rayonnait, et nous avons mangé à notre faim. Nous avions tous un sens nonseulement de fierté, mais aussi de reconnaissance, de joie, et de remerciement.Mais le plus important était sans doute notre réévaluation de la valeur des chosesqui auparavant nous avaient semblé être des nécessités-trois repas et une placesécuritaire et confortable pour dormir. Cette expérience m’a rendu plus conscientde la vraie chance que j’avais d’avoir une vie aisée, et le vrai courage et ladétermination que démontrent les gens qui n’ont pas la même chance que moi, etpour lesquels ceci est leur condition de vie de tous les jours.

Savez-vous de la légende des Lafas? Ils sont petits, jolis, et amusants.Cependant, ils sont timides, et s’ils sont vus,« POP! » comme la magie, ils sont disparusEt alors, nombreux sont les non-croyants.

Dans le royaume d’Anneau, le petit royaume d’Anneau,Qui a la même largeur qu’un crayon,Vivent les Lafas, et leur reine, la belle reine MabQui sont tous des petites personnes.

La nuit, en hiver, quand la lune souritEt le monde des animaux et des plantes dort,Les Lafas, la petite race de peuple, apparaissentQuand le soleil dort et le jour finit.

Conduits par leur reine, les Lafas voyagentAutour du monde, par le ventPour chasser les cauchemars et aussi pour donnerLes bons rêves à chaque bon enfant.

SecondaryGrades 9 and 10Poem

SCHOOL:Mary WardTEACHER: Eric Démoré


Pamela SpearnsUNIT: Toronto Secondary

UNIT PRESIDENT: René Jansen in de Wal

by T I F FA N Y C H E U NG

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LA LÉGENDE DES LAFAS

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Ils tombent du ciel, invisibles à l’œil:Une grande grêle, inconnue à tous.Ils entrent dans chaque maison, par leur magieComme s’ils étaient les passepartouts.

Cependant, quand les Lafas font leur travail,Ils arrivent, laids comme des crapauds:Les Falas, avec leurs dents jaunes et pointuesEt leurs expressions malveillantes et finaudes.

Les Falas se battent contre le but des LafasEn propageant de mauvais rêvesMais les Lafas ripostent, jusqu’aujourd’hui, ils se rivalisentChaque heure de chaque nuit, sans trêve.

Alors, souvenez-vous, durant la nuit,Pendant l’hiver, quand la lune sourit,Les Lafas paraissent, en chassant nos cauchemars,Mais seulement quand le jour finit.

Le scénario et le problème: Nous avions oubliés qu’il y a la fête pour Jacobaujourd’hui et nous devons faire le ménage partout dans la maison!

Les personnages: JULIE – La mèreMARIE – La sœurJACOB – Le frère

Résolution: La fête c’est la semaine prochaine.

Le dialogue:

(La porte s’ouvre.)

MARIE: Salut, Maman, je suis ici!

JULIE: Ah, bonjour ma petite Marie! Comment vas-tu? J’espère que tout est bien allé avec ton examen.

MARIE: Oui, l’examen était facile! Mais maintenant je me sensfatiguée.

JULIE: Je me sens fatiguée aussi.


SCHOOL: Loretto AbbeyTEACHER: Erminia Tonelli


Cosmo FemiaUNIT: Toronto Secondary

UNIT PRESIDENT: René Jansen in de Wal

by J U L I A J ACQU E L I N E SW I S T

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PRÉSENTAT ION

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MARIE: Oui Maman, mais iras-tu commencer le ménage?

JULIE: Le ménage? Pourquoi dois-je faire le ménage?

MARIE: Maman, Jacob va célébrer sa fête avec tous ses amisaujourd’hui.

JULIE: Quoi?!?!

MARIE: Tu as oubliée…

JULIE: Vite! Marie, il faut nettoyer la maison! Qui fera lavaisselle?

MARIE: Je la ferai!

JULIE: Qui rangera les jouets? Qui fera les lits? Qui lavera leplancher? Qui polira les meubles? Qui lavera les vitres?Qui videra la poubelle? Qui sortira les ordures? Quibalayera le plancher? Qui…

MARIE: Maman, tu vas continuer à te plaindre jusqu’au momentque Jacob et ses amis arriveront. Eh bien, commençonstout de suite! Divisons les tâches!

JULIE: Ah Marie, tu sais toujours quoi dire. Bon, je laverai lesvitres et le plancher et peut-être aussi je polirai lesmeubles, s’il y a du temps…

MARIE: Je pourrai ranger les jouets et les livres. De plus, je videraiet sortirai les ordures.

JULIE: Allons-y! Commençons le travail alors!

(Ils font le ménage avec beaucoup d’effort afin d’accueillir JACOB et ses amis aprèsl’école.)

JULIE: Marie, combien de temps nous reste-t-il?

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MARIE: Dix minutes!

(JULIE se tourne et regarde dans le miroir.)

JULIE: Oh, j’ai l’air tellement horrible. Il faut que je me peigne lescheveux. Marie, peigne tes cheveux aussi!

MARIE: Mais, je suis en train de me brosser les dents!

(On entend la sonnette: Ding, dong! Ding, dong!)

JULIE: C’est Jacob et ses amis! Marie, ouvre la porte!

(MARIE ouvre la porte et aperçoit que JACOB est tout seul.)

JACOB: Salut, Marie! Salut Maman! Pourquoi y-a-t’il desdécorations?

JULIE: Pour ta fête! Où sont tes amis? Quand vont-ils arriver?

JACOB: Maman, on a décidé de célébrer ma fête la semaineprochaine!

JULIE et MARIE: Quoi?!

JACOB: Oui, on avait décidé cela la semaine passée! Maismaintenant je vais au parc avec Raoul.

(JULIE et MARIE regardent le calendrier.)

MARIE: Tout ce travail…

JULIE: Pour rien.

La Fin!

Ç a fait du bien, rire! Bonjour, aujourd’hui je vais vous parler de la santé par le rire. Saviez-vous que le rire n’est pas juste bon pour la santé mentale, mais aussi bonne pour la santé physique et émotive? Le rire est aussi une bonne façon de gérer le stress; c’est facile, économique, et

efficace. Écoutez attentivement et vous allez apprendre des informationsextraordinaires. Tout d’abord, d’après une recherche effectuée à l’Université de Maryland, les

personnes qui ont déjà eu des problèmes cardiaques rient 40% moins que les gensen bonne santé. Ces personnes avec des problèmes cardiaques ont de la difficultéà reconnaitre des situations humoristiques et elles démontrent plus d’agressivitéque celles qui ont un cœur en santé. Un quart d’heure de rire par jour est excellentpour le système cardiovasculaire. Le rire permet d’encourager la contraction et ladilatation des vaisseaux sanguins, de maintenir la bonne santé des artères et debaisser le taux de cholestérol.De plus, le rire est bénéfique pour la digestion. Quand on rit, la contraction du

diaphragme le fait monter et descendre. Ceci crée un massage des organes situésen dessous.Le rire permet aussi un profond nettoyage du système respiratoire. Les

échanges respiratoires sont trois fois plus intenses dans les grands rires, ce quiélimine les toxines. Le rire fait également diminuer les crises d’asthmes et debronchite.


SCHOOL: St. Stephen’sTEACHER: Eric Bérubé


Kevin WalchukUNIT: Peterborough, VNC


by AU R É L I E B E L L E F E U I L L E

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LA SANTÉ PAR LE R IRE

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De plus, le système immunitaire est plus fort chez une personne joyeuse. Lerire contribue à augmenter l’intensité de la production d’anticorps capables deprotéger l’organisme contre les virus et les bactéries. En effet, le rire stimule laproduction des cellules NK, des lymphocytes T, et d’immunoglobuline A, qui sonttrois composantes fondamentales du système immunitaire.De nos jours, notre système sympathique est surexcité par le stress, le bruit, et

le manque de sommeil. C’est pourquoi le rire est fantastique, car il apaise lesystème sympathique et stimule le système parasympathique. Ceci favorise ainsiune diminution du stress, une bonne digestion et un meilleur sommeil. Aussi, enriant, des endorphines sont sécrétées en plus grande quantité. Les endorphinessont la morphine naturelle du corps pour lutter contre la douleur. C’est pour ça quele rire procure une sensation de bien-être.Sachant que toute information passe par le cerveau, on pourrait penser que les

deux hémisphères du cerveau travaillent à égalité. Mais c’est faux. Prenons le casd’une personne dont la profession requiert beaucoup de calculs, d’analyse et delogique comme un médecin, un ingénieur ou un pompier. Ces personnes utilisentbeaucoup l’hémisphère gauche du cerveau. À l’opposé, le rire stimule l’hémisphèredroit et permet de calmer l’hémisphère gauche.En résumé, vous savez maintenant que le rire favorise la digestion en massant

les organes, renforce le système immunitaire en augmentant les anticorps, nettoieen profondeur les poumons, repose le système sympathique et relaxe l’hémisphèregauche, soit la coté logique du cerveau. Avec tout ceci, j’espère que les farces platesde vos collègues vous feront maintenant rire un peu plus.

C omment est-ce que j’ai fini par porter l’uniforme obligatoire tous les joursde la semaine? Comment ai-je fini par ignorer les vêtements qui sontaccrochés dans mon placard–mes jeans moulants que j’aime porter avec

mon chandail rose tendre, mon pull-over brun douillet et ma robe turquoise quimet en valeur le bleu de mes yeux? J’ai commencé ma neuvième année d’écolesecondaire avec la même excitation que j’ai commencé le jardin d’enfants et l’écoleélémentaire. La seule différence entre le commencement de l’école élémentaire etle commencement de l’école secondaire est qu’au lieu de me coucher tard à caused’être occupée à trouver la meilleure tenue pour le premier jour de l’école, je suisallée me coucher tôt avec un uniforme blanc et grise étendu sur la chaise dans machambre. Cependant, je n’ai pas dû essayer multiples vêtements devant mon miroirla nuit avant la première journée d’école, et j’étais libre de soupirs d’angoisse et defrustration quand plusieurs tenues n’ont pas été assorties. Je suis vite devenueconfortable avec l’uniforme en voyant tous les autres élèves avec leurs polos blancset les mêmes pantalons gris que je portais. Nous étions comme un vol de mouettesqui marchaient dans les couloirs, mangeaient dans la cafeteria, parlaient dans leforum et flânaient sur les champs verts autour de notre école à la fin de la journée.Vers la fin de ma première année d’école secondaire, j’ai eu la possibilité d’obtenirmon premier vrai emploi. Avec l’aide de mon frère et après beaucoup depréparation avec ma mère, je suis allée au supermarché pour un entretien.


SCHOOL: Resurrection TEACHER: Nadine Iley


Shelly CheesemanUNIT:Waterloo


by L I G I A S A L A J A N

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JE SU IS EN UN IFORME

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En pensant à ce que ma mère m’avait dit en ce qui concernait les questions quela personne qui ferait passer les entretiens me poserait, je me suis assise avec ungrand sourire et je me préparais d’être charmante et loquace. On peut dire que mespréparations ainsi que la pratique devant le miroir avec ma mère, mon entraineurpersonnel, m’ont donné de bonnes habiletés pour avoir un bon entretien. Aprèsavoir parlé une bonne heure de mon expérience de travail seule et en groupe, demes intérêts et de mes réussites, la personne qui fait passer les entretiens a pris mamain et l’a serrée avec un sourire rassurant. Peu après, j’ai reçu un coup detéléphone du supermarché pour m’accueillir et pour me féliciter d’être devenueune employée de leur magasin! « Porte des pantalons noirs, s’il te plait, » maformatrice m’a dit au téléphone. Quoi, j’ai pensé, je dois porter un autre uniforme? Mon uniforme de travail était

une veste rouge avec une petite étiquette de nom et une chemise blanche. Mesdeux uniformes occupaient l’endroit principal dans mon placard et dans ma vie.Travailler dans un supermarché est une expérience qui requiert beaucoup deformation. Les autres travailleurs et moi sommes arrivés au supermarché très tôtpour notre première session de formation, vêtus de nos nouveaux uniformes et ensouliers noirs, nous nous sommes préparés pour apprendre tout ce que nous avonsdû savoir pour travailler avec l’argent, avec les provisions, avec les marchandises,avec les clients et avec les autres travailleurs. La formatrice nous a donné les fichesavec tous les codes pour les fruits, les légumes, les croissants et les casse-croutesqu’on pourrait acheter au supermarché.Pour la première fois, j’ai du lire les petits chiffres qui sont écrits sur les

autocollants des bananes, des pommes et des oranges. Comme si j’étudiais pour untest, j’ai écrit, j’ai surligné et j’ai encerclé la surface entière de ma fiche de codes.4011 pour les bananes, 4012 pour les oranges, 4016 pour les pommes rougesdélicieuses et 4017 pour les pommes vertes Granny Smith. Notre session deformation a consisté à apprendre les propres façons de parler aux clients, lanécessité d’être calme et poli avec les clients en toutes occasions, et lacompréhension de la notion que le client a toujours raison. Nous avons appris aussicomment utiliser les ordinateurs pour numériser des achats, des retours d’achats,des remboursements et des échanges. Finalement, nous avons été encouragésd’être heureux et polis tout le temps, en permettant à nos caractéristiquespersonnelles de briller. La période de formation et le cours d’orientationressemblaient à la période des examens à l’école, et notre examen a eu lieu quandnous étions programmés pour nos premiers postes comme caissiers indépendants.

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« C’est ma première fois. Je suis nouvelle. » Je m’excusais aux clients quiattendaient dans la ligne devant ma caisse enregistreuse pendant que j’essayais detrouver les codes spécifiques pour la laitue et pour les citrouilles, ou pendant queje cherchais le code à barres sur leurs boîtes de céréales. Il n’était pas longtempsavant que je ne devienne confortable dans mon nouveau rôle de caissière, et jetravaillais les weekends et quelques jours des semaines comme si j’avais toujourstravaillé comme caissière.Mon lieu de travail est bientôt devenu comme une autre maison et même

comme une autre école. J’ai développé des amitiés avec mes collègues et j’ai apprisl’importance de respecter mes supérieurs en écoutant leurs conseils et leursexigences. Comme à l’école, je recevais les tâches à compléter avant de partir à lafin de ma période de travail. J’ai été responsable de nettoyer mon lieu de travail, dechanger la poubelle et d’organiser les magazines, les paquets de gomme, lestablettes de chocolat et les sacs en plastique pour assurer que tout était propre etbien organisé. J’ai vite appris que l’apparence de notre magasin, ce qui comprenaitles étagères, les produits et nos apparences comme travailleurs, était trèsimportante pour envoyer un bon message aux clients qui fréquentaient le magasin.J’avais des surveillants qui m’ont dit où je travaillais pour mes périodes de travail.Ils me donnaient une mise à jour sur ce qui passait dans le magasin et sur ce quiaffectait les produits et nos clients. Nos superviseurs de travail introduisaient despromotions, des coupons et des changements ou des improvisations que les patronsavaient créés pour enrichir la fonctionnalité de notre magasin. J’avais des collèguesde tous les âges et nationalités. J’étais heureuse d’être devenue amie avec les mèresqui travaillaient, les élèves de l’université et les élèves des autres écoles secondairesdans ma ville. Les mêmes règles de respect et d’amitié existaient au supermarchécomme à l’école. Mes surveillants étaient mes professeurs et mes patrons étaientmes directeurs. En plus d’être comme une deuxième maison, mon travail était unendroit social et énergétique où j’aimais travailler à cause de tous les nouveaux gensque je rencontrais et toutes les nouvelles expériences auxquelles j’étais exposée.Avoir un lieu de travail à l’âge de quinze ans était un grand accomplissement,

mais le meilleur résultat, le résultat le plus grand et productif des heures que jepassais en travaillant était la belle somme d’argent que j’ai été payée pour mestravaux. L’ironie d’avoir de l’argent pour acheter les beaux vêtements et de ne paspouvoir porter les vêtements à cause des uniformes obligatoires que j’ai du porterne m’échappé pas, mais ça ne m’a pas dérangé. Les fruits de mes travaux m’ontdonné la même satisfaction que recevoir de bonnes notes pour les projets et les

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examens à l’école. L’argent que j’ai gagné à mon travail a eu la même significationque les notes que j’ai reçues pour mes travaux académiques. L’école et le travail ontdes récompenses pour m’encourager à continué de travailler fort pour atteindre lesuccès. Travailler tard pendant les nuits pour terminer les projets d’histoire, pourfinir les peintures pour la classe d’art et pour écrire les grands rédactions pour mescours de littératures était très similaire à travailler pendant les jours fériés pour êtrepayée une fois et demie ou comme prendre les postes supplémentaires quand mescollègues ne pouvaient pas travailler leurs propres postes. Les récompenses que j’aireçues de mes professeurs et de mes surveillants de travail en forme decompliments et de commentaires encourageants m’ont fait aimer mes travaux.La première chose que j’ai remarquée en commençant l’école secondaire et

mon travail était la nécessité de porter un uniforme à chaque jour. Je ne me suis pasrendue compte que l’uniforme obligatoire est seulement une des multiplessimilarités entre mon travail et mon éducation. Les deux nécessitent la formation,l’étude, la socialisation avec des amis et des supérieurs et l’accomplissement desdifférents tâches. Le travail et l’éducation se corrèlent beaucoup parce que les deuxexigent le dévouement et ils m’ont tous les deux donné de bonnes récompenses enforme de paiement, en forme de notes, ou en forme d’épanouissement personnel.Donc, chaque fois que je mets mon uniforme blanc de l’école ou mon uniformerouge de travail, je me souviens que l’école n’est pas si différente du monde detravail. Mes uniformes représentent l’ordre, l’aspect soigné et l’égalité. Les leçonsapprises en travaillant fort fournissent de l’aide pour le voyage tout au long de lacroissance et de l’apprentissage.

Quand je grelotte de froid,J’imagine devant moiUne plage ensoleillée

Où le sable brûle mes piedsEt je me vois toute bronzée,

Dans l’eau barboter.

Quand, suite à un pépin,Coulent des larmes de chagrin,J’imagine alors une princesse

Qui, avec allégresse,Chasse et remplace ma tristessePar un brin de tendresse.

Quand je me sens anéantie,Je force mon esprit

À voir au bout du tunnelUne lumière providentielle,Qui m’enverra, tel un missel,Un espoir quasi-immortel.

SecondaryGrades 11 and 12Poem

SCHOOL: Regiopolis-Notre DameTEACHER: Julia MorgensternSCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Geoff MacklerUNIT: Algonquin-LakeshoreUNIT PRESIDENT: Bob Giasson

by J U L I E A L E X A N D R A B AT E S

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LE QUAND DE MES SOUC IS

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Quand la panique me guette,Apparait alors dans ma tête

Ma douce MamanQui, dans ses bras aimants,Me berce doucement,

Tout en calmant mes tourments.

Quand une grosse peurEnvahit mon cœur,Je me mets à l’écriturePour tracer la caricatureD’un chevalier en armure,

Capturant mes frayeurs futures.

Quand la solitude se glisseDans mon âme avec malice,

Je lis ce petit poèmeEt la solution à mes dilemmesSe dévoile sans problème,Car il ne faut pas un requiemNi même un baptême

Mais simplement, tel un harem,Être entourée par ceux qu’on aime.

Les lumières sont allumés. Le cadre est une rue dans un quartier pauvre, avecbeaucoup de maisons décrépîtes. MURPH entre. Il porte un costume et un chapeau, et il a une grande mallette. Il s’arrête devant une petite maison.

MURPH: Cette cabane doit être habitée par des immigrés récents.Ils sont les seules personnes qui peuvent habiter dans uneporcherie comme ça. Cependant, ils sont mes meilleursacheteurs.

Il frappe sur la porte. Une JEUNE FEMME ouvre la porte. Elle porte une robe délavéeet elle a un fichu floral sur la tête.

MURPH: (Souriant) Bonjour, Madame. Comment ça va?

JEUNE FEMME: (Elle parle très lentement avec un accent fort.) Bonjour…Puis-je…vous aider?

MURPH: Est-ce que vous voulez acheter la plus ingénieuseinvention du siècle, l’appareil qui va révolutionner la viedomestique, la machine qui va simplifier les routinesquotidiennes? Est-ce que vous voulez acheter l’aspirateurLalonde? Ce n’est pas une question véritable. Tout le


SCHOOL: St. Theresa of LisieuxTEACHER: Gino Marcuzzi


Gregory BoltonUNIT: York


by R H E A S Z A R I C S

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LES IMMIGRÉS

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monde veut l’acheter parce que cette machine est conçueavec la meilleure technologie d’aujourd’hui. Elle a unepompe à aspirer puissante qui peut aspirer toute lapoussière dans votre maison. On peut utiliser cetaspirateur versatile sur les tapis et le plancher, même lecarrelage. En plus, l’aspirateur Lalonde est unique parceque c’est le seul aspirateur qui fonctionne avec desbatteries. Je garantie que vous aurez une maison proprepour beaucoup d’années. Si vous voulez, je peuxdémontrer comment cet appareil fonctionne.

La JEUNE FEMME semble perdue. Elle ne répond pas. Elle signe seulement « oui » de sa tête.

MURPH: Bon, merci. Vous verrez, Madame, vous ne regretterezrien.

MURPH entre dans la petite maison, qui est très sale, avec une fenêtre cassée, et il y aseulement un lit, un lavabo, une chaise, un petit tapis et une cuisinière ancienne dansla chambre. Il ouvre sa mallette et il enlève l’aspirateur.

Voilà, madame. On doit seulement pousser ce bouton ici,et l’aspirateur Lalonde élimine tout le saleur dans votremaison. (MURPH commence à nettoyer le petit tapis.) C’est fantastique, n’est-ce pas?

JEUNE FEMME: (Avec des grands yeux) Oui, c’est fantastique.

MURPH: Et vous pourrez être la prochaine propriétaire de cetappareil incroyable pour seulement cent quarante-neufdollars et quatre-vingt dix-neuf cents. Réfléchissez,Madame, c’est un investissement dont on doit profiter.

La JEUNE FEMME regarde l’aspirateur avec révérence. Soudainement, un morceau de plâtre tombe du plafond au tapis. MURPH l’enlève avec l’aspirateur.

JEUNE FEMME: Attendez, s’il vous plait.

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Elle sort et, après quelques secondes, revient avec une boite. Elle tire une poignée debillets et elle les donne à MURPH.

JEUNE FEMME: Voici l’argent. (Avec fierté) J’ai gagné tout…l’argent…moi-même.

MURPH: Merci, madame. Je suis certain que vous ne regretterez pas cet achat. Merci encore et au revoir.

MURPH prend sa mallette et il sort de la maison. Il commence à se promener sur larue et parler avec lui-même.

Les immigrés… ils sont tellement simples. On peutessayer de leur vendre l’air, et si on utilise les bon mots,ils l’achètent, bien sur.

MURPH rit. Il arrive devant un magasin sur une rue propre. Il y a une grandepancarte au-dessus de la porte qui dit « Compagnie Lalonde. » MURPH entre dans lemagasin et il frappe sur une porte sur laquelle c’est écrit « J. Lalonde. »

M. LALONDE: Entrez.

MURPH entre. M. LALONDE est en train de parler avec LE COMPTABLE dans unechambre avec des meubles chers et un tapis épais.

MURPH: Bonjour, Monsieur Lalonde. J’ai une faveur à vousdemander. J’ai déjà vendu sept aspirateurs, et je seraisreconnaissant si vous pouvez permettre que je parte tôt,seulement aujourd’hui.

M. LALONDE: Où est l’argent?

MURPH ouvre sa mallette et donne les billets à M. LALONDE.

MURPH: (Avec fierté) Voilà, monsieur, mille-quarante-trois dollarset quatre-vingt-trois cents. Exactement.

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M. LALONDE: (Il prend l’argent et commence à le compter. Il donne un billetde cinquante dollars à MURPH.) Merci, mon gars. Tu eslibre pour l’après-midi.

MURPH: (Joyeusement) Vraiment? Merci, monsieur! Au revoir!

(MURPH sort avec un grand sourire.)

LE COMPTABLE: Qui est-ce garçon? Je pense que je l’ai vu dans le passé.

M. LALONDE: Il est un vendeur parmi mes vendeurs. Vous savez,seulement un autre immigré.

O n n’a pas besoin d’allumer la télévision ni la radio, aujourd’hui, pour voircomment l’art a évolué au cours des années. La musique et l’art ontoujours été influencés par la culture de leur temps. Les tendances

associées à une décennie sont la réflexion de la mentalité de cette société. La musique reflète ce qui est populaire, ce qui est souhaitable et ce qui estmoderne. En écoutant de la musique, il est facile de voir la culture durant cettepériode. Cependant, dans la société contemporaine, la musique populaire est fortement

critiquée. Les critiques disent que l’art est en train de mourir, et que les vraisartistes sont plus difficiles à trouver. Beaucoup de musiciens aujourd’hui ne sontpas « originale ». Si on écoute de la musique populaire, on verra que la plupart decelle-ci c’est la même chose. Les chansons sont similaires, avec des sons répétitifset des thèmes communs. Elles ne comprennent pas de nouveau matériel, mais ellessont simplement une imitation de ce qui existe déjà. Elles sont traitées de sedébarrasser de toutes les imperfections et donner aux auditeurs exactement cequ’ils veulent entendre. Tout cela est fait dans le but de faire le plus d’argent, pourêtre le plus populaire, et le plus connu. Mais si rien de nouveau n’est créé, et toutest fait pour faire de l’argent, est-ce de l’art? Ou sont ces soi-disant « artistes » riende plus qu’un spectacle?Pour y répondre, il est nécessaire d’abord de poser quelques autres questions.

Qu’est-ce que c’est l’art? Quel est le rôle d’un artiste? Et qui sont les « vrais artistes» dans la société d’aujourd’hui?


SCHOOL: Father BressaniTEACHER: Debbie Aloi


Wendy HofstatterUNIT: York


by S Y LV I A U R B A N I K

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LE RÔLE DE L’ART ISTE DANS LA SOC IÉTÉ MODERNE

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Le rôle de l’artiste a toujours été noble et honnête. L’artiste imite ce qu’il voitdans le monde réel. L’art est la création de quelque chose qui n’existait pasauparavant. Tout le monde peut copier ce qui a déjà été fait, mais les vrais artistessont ceux qui ont le courage de créer des choses qui n’ont pas été faites.L’imagination n’a pas de limites. L’artiste a la capacité de créer des idées et despensées originales. Ils ont la possibilité de voir les choses dans une nouvelleperspective–celle que la plupart des gens ne pensent pas. Ils osent de faire deschoses différents et de représenter le monde d’une manière qui n’a jamais étéimaginé. L’art est la manifestation des émotions humaines, il prend ce que vousressentez et il le partage avec d’autres personnes afin qu’ils puissent le sentir aussi.C’est ainsi que les artistes défient les gens. Ils peuvent prendre une idée

ordinaire et la rendre extraordinaire. Ils se rebellent contre la conformité et ilsdéfient le statu quo. Ils forcent les gens à y penser. L’art montre aux gens le mondetel qu’il est, et mène les gens à mettre en question leurs croyances et leurs pointsde vue sur la vie.Les artistes sont considérés controversés quand ils contestent les choses

comme les gouvernements, la société, et la nature humaine. Ils soulignent lesimperfections et les défauts de ces choses. Ils critiquent les gens pour les fairemettre en question le statu quo, et de leur donner envie de changer ce qu’ilsn’aiment pas. Ceci, cependant, peut rendre les gens mal à l’aise. Certainespersonnes n’aiment pas être contredites. Ils sont convaincus que leur opinion est laseule opinion, et ils refusent de considérer de nouvelles notions. Ils ne veulent pasvoir les choses d’une manière différente ou accepter qu’ils puissent être erronés.Puis, ils condamnent l’artiste, et détestent ce qu’ils font. Ils essaient de cacher leursimperfections et de blâmer l’artiste pour tous les maux du monde. Mais l’artiste necrée pas de problèmes, l’artiste montre simplement ce qui existe déjà. Beaucoup de gens ne veulent pas y penser. Les gens sont parfaitement à l’aise

avec leurs vies ennuyeuses. Ils ne mettent pas en question le monde qui lesentoure. Ils ne mettent pas en cause les règles de l’autorité ni se demandentpourquoi le monde est tel qu’il est. L’artiste défit ce point de vue. Le but de tout art–soit la poésie, la littérature, le

cinéma, la photographie, la peinture, la musique, ou quelque chose d’autre–est defaire sentir les gens. Le rôle de l’artiste est de montrer aux gens un monde différent.Parfois, cela se fait en montrant des choses que vous ne voulez pas voir. Ils peuventvous montrer la beauté dans le monde, ainsi que sa laideur.

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L’art véritable n’a jamais été la chose la plus populaire. L’art n’est pas destiné àplaire tout le monde. L’art est destiné à défier les gens et à les faire réfléchir. L’artest censé de rendre les gens mal à l’aise! L’artiste prend une idée commune etmontre une nouvelle façon de voir les choses, qui met en nouvelle perspective lavie des gens.C’est pourquoi l’art est souvent controversé. Les gens ne veulent pas être mal à

l’aise, et l’art est souvent critiqué pour être trop « choquant ». Mais est-ce la fautede l’artiste? Ou est-ce juste un reflet de l’humanité elle-même? Oscar Wilde a dit :« Les livres que le monde appelle immoraux sont les livres qui montrent le mondesa propre honte. » Cela est vrai pour toutes les formes d’art. L’art controversé nousfait penser à des choses auxquelles nous ne voulons pas penser. Il révèle tous lesdéfauts et les imperfections de la société.C’est une vérité de la condition humaine que les humains ne veulent pas être

considérés comme « imparfaits ». Ils ont peur de leurs défauts. Mais si la sociéténe reconnait pas ces lacunes, elle ne sera jamais en mesure de les modifier. C’estpourquoi l’artiste est si important. L’artiste est celui qui a le courage de voir lemonde clairement, et le montrer aux autres. L’artiste nous montre que les démonsque la société tente de combattre sont créés par la société elle-même. Le devoir de l’artiste est de partager son vision avec le monde. Il montre aux

gens des choses qu’ils n’auraient pas normalement notées. L’art peut inspirer lesgens. Si les gens sont en colère, ils voudront faire quelque chose. Ils voudront sebattre pour le changement, défendre leurs croyances, ou s’inspirer a créer unenouvelle réalité. L’art peut inspirer beaucoup de sentiments dans les personnes- la colère, la

tristesse, la joie, le courage, l’espoir, la créativité, et la passion. L’art peut contesterles gens à oser de faire quelque chose de différent, et devenir des artistes eux-mêmes. Alors maintenant, la question reste : Qui sont les vrais artistes dans notresociété?C’est quelque chose que seulement vous pouvez décider.

young authors booklet - 2013

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