After students finish their homework at 826 Valencia’s after-school tutoring program, program staffers Jorge Eduardo Garcia, Raúl J. Alcantar and Rebecca Beeson engage them in writing exercises.
The young authors produce many wonderful pieces, and Mission Loc@l plans to feature a few of them each week.
In November, students were presented prompts about tables (inspired by the collaboration with organization Ruth’s Table at Bethany’s Center for Seniors) and challenged to think abstractly about the use of things in our homes and where they come from.
Crack on the Table
A story by
Sofia Marquez-Gomez, age 8
Jefferson Elementary School
I use my kitchen table the most because it is straight against the wall, and it is comfortable. It has a crack on it that is wiggly. The table is my favorite color. There are always snacks on the table. If I get hungry, I can just grab one. I like the table because when my mom tells me to go eat dinner, I am always the first one there, unless I have to wash my hands. Sometimes I sit there because there are veggies on the table like broccoli and green beans so I eat them. Sometimes I don’t sit there. Sometimes I sit on my kitchen table and watch TV on my iPod touch. I also sit there to do my homework, with my brother. It is where I usually do my homework. But I never sit where the crack is because if I put a paper there and I started writing, the paper would rip.
The Colorful Table
A poem by
Rocio Cardoso, age 8
Edison Charter Academy
The table was colorful.
It was made in China.
It was so beautiful that they never
used that table and never
touched it.
The colors were yellow, red, brown,
blue, black, white,
dark blue, and dark black.
There were things on the table like pencils,
pens, paper, glasses, paints, markers, and
colored pencils.
When the table broke,
we told our parents.
They got mad and fixed it,
so it was brand new
and it was beautiful,
the colors of the rainbow.
There was a party at my house,
and the table broke again!
My sister and I had to fix it,
and again, it was brand new.
But the colors came off.
It is going to be a chair.
Bed Table
A poem by
Yaseen Elhamaki, age 10
St. James School
My bed is my table for me,
I eat,
I sleep,
I dream.
Bad dreams and good dreams,
jump,
fight,
I play football on my bed.
I say to my bed, “Let’s play!”
Then my bed says to me, “First, buy me a new sheet!”
My bed is happy because I say, “Okay.”
Roses are Red, Tables are Orange
A poem by
Oscar Ticas, age 10
St. Peter School
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
but my table is orange,
but what we put on the orange table is a mystery,
I will tell you what the mystery is:
We left a baby dog and cat on this table.
The dog was white,
the cat was black,
they were fluffy and nice,
and smelled like shampoo,
and they were best friends.
Then the next morning,
we found them there sleeping,
sleeping like little baby angels
about to be awake for breakfast.
A breakfast of eggs and bacon.
It smelled great, and
it tasted like angels were
dancing on your tongue.
My Old Toy
A Letter
Alex Muñoz, age 8
Alvarado Elementary School
Dear Alex,
It’s your old toy car. I miss playing in your room, and your little sister screaming. I miss crashing into those other cars. I miss your squeaky floor. I’m in the basement now and it is cold and I need a blanket. It is scary and dark. I need help please!
From,
Your Old Toy
Hi Once Again
A letter by
Arkangel Magaña, age 13
Dear Tree Family,
I miss you and I hope your trees are doing well. I am missing you, and now I am not a tree anymore. I am a table if you didn’t know. I am still one of you, and I am still family. I want you to know it was worth it to become a table for the humans because they help us by giving us water. We help them by holding things, and we are used for many purposes. I miss you guys, and I am standing like a strong tree.
From,
Arkangel, The Used-to-be-tree
I Miss Being a Tree
A Correspondence between Chair and Table
by Sofia Marquez-Gomez, age 8
Jefferson Elementary School
Dear Chair,
I miss being a tree because when you are a tree, you can befriend animals. The animals used to make houses out of my trunk, and I was thankful for them. I also miss being a tree because there were other trees around me. Do you feel like this? I feel good being a table because I help humans write, read, eat, and drink liquids. I have one quick question for you: do you like being a chair and do you like being sat on? I wish I were still a tree.
From,
Table
Dear Table,
I don’t miss being a tree because when people sit on me and then get off of me, I’m warm. I don’t feel the same way. I feel happy because I’m always warm. Thank you for sharing.
From,
Chair