What Am I |
Students went outside, chose something they say, and wrote from that perspective.
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By Abby Kammeyer
I sigh as more stinking waste gets hauled out the back door of the school. Even after it’s been thrown out, the smell still travels over to where I stand. I focus up on the windows of the building next to me, hoping to see some of the students in the classrooms. There’s nothing else to focus on down here, with its hot pavement and blank walls boxing me in. I could talk to others around me, but the only one I can have a conversation with (that isn’t nonsense) is the school, but they’re always busy during the day, and exhausted by the time everyone leaves. So I listen to the others talk around me. I learn that the grass has grown well, and it needs to be cut soon. Apparently one of the students nearly got hit turning out of here. At least they didn’t hit me. I hate being stuck on the ground with these losers around me. Most of them have gone mad with age, and all I can gather from what they say is complete gibberish. I try to tune them out, and not think that one day I’ll be like them. Stuck to the ground in this parking lot, cement holding me in this boiling prison as lunatics murmur around me. I don’t even see the point of myself standing here. The only thing I’ve ever been used for is target practice for new drivers. Is my life supposed to be lived in constant terror of a freshie backing into me? I wince as another car gets dangerously close, and tune into the mutters around me to distract myself. “Hey.” The mutters fall silent for a second then pick up again with fever. I stare awkwardly at them before continuing. “Has anything cool happened to you guys? I almost got hit AGAIN today. Dumb kids…” More silence. Okaaay. “Do you guys ever, like, get sick of the smell?” There is a noise of disgust from behind me, and it sounds like someone is comforting the garbage can. I messed up, I guess. I turn back to the school, hoping to catch them on a break to chat a bit. As usual, they’re working themselves almost to death. I turn back to face the back doors of the school, and pick out patterns in the red orange brick walls. It was going to be another long pointless day in my life. By Ashlynn Steinmann I grow beneath the grass of the field, as far as the football field, the softball diamond, and the noisy street. I stand near the school, visible from the room with sweaty people lifting things. I am much taller than many of these buildings, and much older. A few like me stand in a line next to me. From up here, I can see the numerous cars that drive by, the busses carrying children that would rather not be at school, and fans cheering for their favorite sports teams. On most days, it is peaceful, but there are quite a few where there is a constant annoyance calling to me: the dandelions. Those little weeds do nothing but irritate me and my friends. They act like little siblings. Like they will grow big, just like us, but they don't. They sit there and pretend to be friendly, but we are too smart for them. We ignore them, pretending that we are too tall to be able to even hear them, but their squeals are so high pitched, even the harsh winds during a storm can’t tune them out. Nothing beat a good thunderstorm, though. I like to dance in the wind of the storm. We sometimes have a contest to see who can bend the most in the wind. It looks like a storm is coming now. I feel a slight drizzle and smell rain. Hopefully the thunder can remove of some of the white dandelions. Maybe they could send the seeds far away, so I don't have to deal with a new set of weeds. |
By Katelyn Kocher
The Broken Road As I proceed on I asked myself, “Did I choose the scenic route?” I see the large green trees with their long sturdy trunks extended in to the sky line. However, I also see the multicolored flowers and yellow dandelion weeds that fill the overgrown grass below. During this time of year all the blooming plants fill the air with a sweet spring scent of lilacs while the pollen set most people's allergies a flam. Trying to escape my own allergies I considered giving up my journey and entering the large beige building to my right that seemed out of place, but instead I decided to proceed on. As my eyes started to become red and feel as if they were full of sand paper I divert my attention to the wrappers and trash that seem to collect on the shoulders of my pathway. How can a place full of mystery and beauty also be filled with impurities like weeds and trash? I can imagine a long time ago, this worn path would have been the main artery to a small thriving town. Little station wagons and run drown trucks full of farmers and their families would bounce along throwing dust behind them. Rocks churn beneath and fills the air with clattering sounds as they hit the undercharge. The smells of manure and live stocks dissipate the father they traveled. With the destination no longer a thriving town, this pathway its vacant. Its barley traveled and consider useless. Looking into to the distant it never seems to end. With every step I take I can feel the dried dirt collect upon my feet. Gravel and tiny rocks gather in between my toes. I don't know where I’m going but one things certain, I’ll go wherever the path takes me. My inner thoughts start to race. “How long must I continue, putting left foot in front of right while listening to the tree leaves rustle in the wind?” “When will I arrive at my final destination?” “I feel the sun beating down upon me as I tier with every step” “Where does this path leading me?” By Alexander Milam I have much in my surrounding vision to observe and analyze. As I scan my surroundings from east to west, I spot an ever brewing storm approaching. It is evident in the grayish-white with a hint of blue, clouds. The clouds are dense but not dense enough to let out a full out thunder storm rather than a soft sprinkle. A baseball field can be made out in my peripheral vision. I can hear the sharp sound of a wooden bat and ball colliding. I can feel the ever smooth road on my bottom as I am sitting. When I look right in front, I see a reddish-brown school that is modern looking with glass walls and windows. To my far left is a green forest that has all its limbs swaying along to the wind like people slow dancing. I am very active within my surroundings. You could say I am one with my surroundings most of the time. Everything is always at a peaceful state except in the mid afternoon. When I hear the squeaking of yellow busses I know trouble is to come very soon. I get kicked around constantly. It feels like being hit car after car lined up straight with you over and over again. Sometimes it’s felt in the side. Sometimes it may hurt in my back. All I know is it hurts and I get real dizzy from all that spinning. Other than that, I remain touching the soft pavement meditating throughout my days. What is really neat though is that my view is different every day. I would say my advantages in my life outweigh the disadvantages it has to bring me. Even though I may be thrown around roughly often whenever people are walking, I never seem to die. Even though I can’t really move around on my own, I always get to see new views after every day at the same time big giants walk around and into big yellow busses. That is my only worry in life. Weather is not even a problem for I withstand it every time. I will always live to see another day. Even though I never know specifically what my day will entail, I am certain it will contain nature and adventure. I love my life, it rocks. |