We will be updating this space as often as possible with selections of the best student writing produced during recent workshops, field trips, and drop-in tutoring sessions in 826 chapters across the country. We are also always accepting submissions to be featured by any students ages 6-18. All writing can be emailed to submissions [at] 826national.com for consideration.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
For the next few months, we'll be spotlighting the different 826 chapters and the amazing young writers participating at each of our writing centers.
Next on the list are the young spies of 826CHI. Created (very sneakily) for your perusal, a collection of literary musings on facial hair, the scent of perfectly-made strawberries, stingray bodyguards and so much more. So, without further ado...
* * *
The Tricksters
by Alta Aegisdottir
Miss Farlander set the table with wonderful-looking food, but actually, it wasn’t food; it was soap.
Will Farlander passed out pencils to the class, but actually, these weren’t pencils, just wood without lead.
Read the entire piece...
* * *
How to Eat Chocolate: A Brief Guide for Aliens
by Charles Lyang
1. Land the UFO.
2. Say, “Earthlings we come for all your c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e… Now give it to us or you will be incinerated!”
3. Steal all the chocolate from Jewel-Osco.
Read the entire piece...
* * *
Mustache Clown
by Maxine Murray
She rode into town
on a dusty old mare.
She wore a bandana
and some facial hair.
Read the entire piece...
* * *
The Bubble Bath
by Denzel Wadlington
The tub is my favorite place because it is quiet. When I am in the tub, the water is hot and it feels great. When I put bubbles in, it feels like someone is tickling me. Then I go under the water to see how long I can hold my breath. Read the entire piece...
* * *
Snowflake Haiku
by Sheila McIntosh
Night cry, liquid tin.
Bright fragments of a dead year.
Silently breaking.
Read the entire piece...
* * *
The Water
by Spencer W. Blake
it wouldn’t stop raining.
the people evolved.
grew gills.
adaptation.
walking had been replaced with breaststrokes.
infants awkwardly doggy paddled to their mothers.
the dogs didn’t make it.
Read the entire piece...
* * *
The Swing Set
by Jennifer Friedmann
He told me that he couldn’t quite remember the location of the swing set. The area behind the house where it resided throughout our early years had been taken over by the wild. The grass was a foot high. Tiny yellow wildflowers fought with bushy pine sprouts for light. The once-clear boundary between the bordering woods and the expansive lawn was now blurry. And with that, the distinct elements of our childhood—the dirt hill for capturing, the attempt at a pumpkin patch, the base of the slide with its woodchip cushion—had faded.
Read the entire piece...
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