Dear Moms,

Here are two student written poems that pretty much say it all. You're the best! Thanks for everything!

Love,
WORD

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Good Money
- by Amelia Titus, Grade 11

Mother, mother, where have you been?

Did you step in a coffee shop,
[God knows you love them]
and get lost in Tuesday's specials?

Or sit on the corner of your own
mother's bed at 4 a.m. and watch
her jerk in the dark?

Or did he put you in the spin
cycle like he does all the dry
cleaning clothes?
[God knows you love the smell
of fresh dryer sheets.]

A smell that used to cling,
sticky, in the air outside
our worn-wood home,
before all the sawdust and
sample bathroom tiles moved
in, their suitcases crammed
with overextended adjectives.

You thought,
"Good money will buy me
a kitchen where I can cook duck
and finally learn to be a chef."

[Of all things, God knows
you are not a chef.]

Good money will buy me
hardwood floors and
a wine refrigerator,
where all good things
are bottled and cold.



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A Rose for Mama
- by Kimberly Woodcock, Grade 6

I live on a small dirt road
On a cozy little farm
Away from the town's center
Away from other barns

Across the way from my farm
Is a meadow filled with flowers
When I lay in the field and daydream
I feel that I have different powers

One cloudy and useless day
When my daddy had left for town
I remembered it was Mama's birthday
So I picked all the flowers that I found

When I saw the perfect flower
I dropped all of the others
It was the most perfect thing ever
And should be given to all mothers

I ran home shouting
With just one thing in my hand
But I tripped accidentally
And the flower was crushed in the sand

My mama came out and got me
And asked "What happened, darling?"
I told her about the flower
And her look was very startling

She said she didn't care about that
It was the thought of the gift that counts
She said she loved me for thinking of her
And the flower didn't matter an ounce

I always loved my mama
And that's the way it goes
Now every single birthday
I give my mama one single red rose!

Today... well, allow me to explain. Not that it matters much, but the date on this blog post is going to say "Sunday, May 12". It's a lie! Don't believe the hype! For some reason, WORD blogs three hours in the future. It's really still Saturday. So when I say "today", I am referring to Saturday. Sorry, just had to get that nonsense out of the way. So where were we? Ah yes.

Today, we drove to Toronto, Canada. It was an 9 hour trip in a rented mini-van and there were four of us. It was Jives, Vegas, Kate, and myself. We are here because the always fantastic, never disappointing International Reading Association (IRA) conference is in town. It starts on Monday but we had to get here early in order to set up our Weekly Reader booth at the convention hall tomorrow. Basically, the idea is that teachers from all over are going to come visit us and we're going to exchange ideas and talk about great books and share our magazines with them. It's really a fun time! Plus, we get to be in Toronto! Woo hoo!

Crossing the border into another country was unnecessarily nerve-wracking. We prepped ourselves, "getting our stories straight", as Jives said, like we were some kind of criminals with ulterior motives.

"OK, so when we stop and the border guard questions us, here's our story: We're going to a conference in Toronto where 20,000 teachers are going to swarm us for information about Weekly Reader. Can everyone remember that?"

Yes! Because that's really why we're here!

Hmm... well, maybe it was funnier in the van.

At any rate, we made it across the border and this is the first official WORD blog entry from another country!

Helllllllloooooooo down there U.S.A.! How's the weather?  :)

So we're here. Canada is cool. More to come later. But for now... a special treat! Not only is today road trip day, but it is also National Limerick Day! We made a point to write a few limericks on our long, 9 hour drive today, just for you! If you are unfamiliar with limericks, you can start by learning all about them by clicking here. After you read ours, try some of your own! They're fun! And they practically write themselves! Cheers!

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Limerick The First

From Connecticut we set forth,
On a trail that led us north.
Voyagers in a green minivan,
Traveling as careful as we can,
We must find a beast named Gorth!

Who is Gorth you ask? We don't know. We're still trying to find him. :)

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Limerick The Second

Today is the day of limericks,
Of rhyming words with slick tricks.
These poems are fun!
They're for everyone!
And they're a great way to get your kicks!

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Limerick The Third

Our best driver sits in the back,
He yaks and he yaks and he yaks.
When there's danger ahead
He makes us not dead.
Only the pedal he lacks.

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Limerick The Fourth

There once was a girl named Vegas.
She said her name was Brooke (but it's Vegas).
"The desert's too warm
For my delicate form!
So take me to Toronto!" she begged us.

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Limerick The Fifth

There's this dude I know named Jives.
He likes writing limericks as he drives.
He watches the road,
As onward we go,
And the miles of nothing pass by.

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Limerick The Last (a.k.a. Welcome To Shmaltzville)

Off to Toronto we go,
Traveling along forest roads.
We're a happy group of four
And our spirits do soar!
Together we're never alone.

Awwwwwwwwwww. Ha! Whatever. Goodnight.

Word.

"Aye matey, is that how you'd greet your own blood?" I stared at the man for a moment realized what Petey had been fussing about. This man standing right in front of me was my father! "Keith? Aye me-hearty! Tis' can't be him! He's so scrawny and pale!"

Petey turned to me and looked me up and down. "Aye but he gots the heart of a pirate, Captain." 

"Well then," My pirate-father said, "Don't you be tryin' any tricks now. There ain't no where else to go besides the deep blue yonder where you'll be eaten alive by sharks." Petey grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to my long lost father. "Well, you aint the buffest lad to take the job, but we can make you as greedy and heartless as we here pirates!" I felt his arm place itself heavily on my left shoulder, causing my body to tilt sideways. "Now, we will start breaking you of your proper habits and mold you into a strong and dirty pirate!"

The captain led me out of the cabin and brought me up to the top of the deck. The crew went on with their own duties as if they hadn't noticed I was there. "Now how bout you be gettin' to work, son?" I was handed a bucket of dirty water along with a scrubbing brush. "This here deck needs a good scrubbing, you best be getting it done before dark or you'll miss eatin'."

*                  *                  *                  *

There were plenty of times I went to bed without dinner, but I eventually figured out a way so that I would get done with all my chores and was then able to eat while my food was still hot on the table. If I were to get up early enough, then I could get done with the deck so it would dry before the crew woke up and walked all over it and made it dirty again. 

Over the years, I became musuclar and my skin began to turn from a young boy's pale white to a young man's bronze. 

Eventually, I discarded all ideas of escape from my mind. After hard labor and deathly trials I finally won the respect and approval of the crew. My father and I became great companions. I was told that because of my cold-heartedness and my exceeding greed, I would become the co-captain of the ship! One day, my father will be dead and I will become sole captain of his ship.

Aye, tis' truly a pirate's life for me!

Yar.