The Best

Posted June 22, 2009 & filed under Notebook.

Dad, don’t you know I’ve gotten
so big since you last saw me
that I’m in high school now, so stop
sending me Barbies for Christmas.

Dad, don’t you know that I’ve changed
my mind about being a doctor,
that my place is up on the stage, not in
the surgery room with its quiet light.

Dad, don’t you know that I’ve accomplished
so much, jumped so many hurdles,
faced so many fears that I’m so
proud of myself. I hope somehow
I’ve made you proud, too.

By Jennifer, 9th grade
[photo by la plume et le vent via flickr]

The View

Posted June 15, 2007 & filed under Notebook.

I was holding my father’s hand.
We lifted our necks high into the air.
The sculpture was so high.
We gasped in amazement.

We lifted our necks high into the air.
Your mother would have loved to see this, he said.
We gasped in amazement.
It was a breathtaking view.

Your mother would have loved to have seen this, he said.
My neck hurt.
It was a breathtaking view.
I looked down to ease the pain.

My neck hurt.
I was holding my father’s hand.
I looked down to ease the pain.
The sculpture was so high.

by Kadie, 6th grade
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