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Thursday, April 28, 2011

A DAY IN SAIGON By Giang, age 10


When my mom and I got out of the airport, the afternoon heat enveloped us. Many of my relatives stood on the sidewalk waiting for us. My cousin Ngan faked a smile. Long, black hair covered her eyes. My other cousin, Tam waved. Sweat ran through his hair. His eyes were swimming with happiness. Tam said, “We should leave now and go eat.'' My mom got in a taxi. She asked me if I wanted to go with her. I said no and got on my cousin's motorcycle.

We took off and the sticky air flew past us. The sun burned my skin. The street was full of motorcycles, the sidewalks were cracked and trash was everywhere. Gasoline was the only thing I could smell. My cousin went really fast and I almost fell off. I yelled, "I’m going to fall." The motorcycle slowed down. The smell of sewage hit me. I asked him, “Why does it stink so much?”

He said, “This is where people throw their trash.”

I looked down. We were on a small bridge. Trash rotted in the water below.

“Why would people throw their trash here?”

“I don’t know.”

My shirt was covered in sweat. “Can you go any faster?”

“I can’t go any faster.”

“Do you have any water?”

“No.”

I wondered about my dog. The last time I saw him, he was a puppy. My cousin was taking care of him for me while I was in America. “So how is Lucky?” I said.

“He’s okay.”

The motorcycle stopped in front of a grey house. There were shoes in front of a white door. My cousin parked the motorcycle and we walked inside. The walls where white with a little bit of dust. The stairs were light blue. Large cracks covered them. This was my grandma's house. I lived here when I was little. My mom and I went inside the kitchen. She started talking to my grandma. A picture of me when I was little was stuck to the refrigerator. I was at the water park splashing water at my mom.

My grandma gave me pho. When I finished eating my mom and I went to our hotel. On the way in, I saw a coin. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. We went to our room and slept. When I woke up it was eleven o'clock. The moonlight shined in my face.

About the Author

Hi! My name is Giang. I’m ten years old. I live with my sister and her baby, my mom, and my mom’s boyfriend, who I think of as my dad. I’m (sometimes) good at getting along with people. I want to be good at drawing. When I grow up I want to be an inventor, so everyone will see the stuff I create. Something that makes me special is that I can get along with people and make them happy (sometimes). What confuses me is why there is life and why we’re all here. If I were a gas, I would be air so I would know everything everyone’s doing. If I had one wish I would wish to be better at math. I am also the author of When My Dog Died.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

LION HUNT By Andrew, age 8


My dad is a hunter. He hunts big cats in Mexico. One day my dad went out to the hills in his green army fatigues. Eagles flew through the sky. Flying lizard glided to the trees. He stayed all night. He got his gun out. He heard a growl and saw two red eyes glaring at him from a cave. It was a lion. Orange mane stood up around its face. A wild pig hung from its teeth.

No hunter had ever shot a lion before. My dad imagined that the lion was going to eat me. He shot but the lion did not die. He got mad and he said, “It’s you time to die!” And he shot the lion. It did not move. My dad touched the lion’s neck. There was no pulse.

About the Author

My name is Andrew. I am eight years old. I live with my mom, my three sisters and a brother. I like to pick up my sister and carry her. I am good at spinning the stick. I want to be good at making beats and rhythms. When I grow up I want to be a fireman so I can save people’s lives. Night confuses me because the stars look like eyes. If I had one wish I would wish to be a night crawler so I can disappear. I am also the author of John and the Snake and The Ice Monster’s Anger.

Friday, April 1, 2011

MEMORIES OF TOISAN By Vicky, age 8


Bee Sting

When I lived in Toisan a bee flew through my window. I was three years old. I touched the bee softly and it stung my finger. After the bee stung me, it died. My dad removed the stinger from my skin and gave me the bee. I smashed it and it looked like mush. My mom gave me a bandage. She said, “Does it hurt?” It didn’t hurt. This memory smells like cigarette smoke because my dad was smoking that day.

Preschool in China

When I was three I went to preschool. One day after lunch my teacher took us for a walk inside the school. The walls were painted the color of tan horses. The school smelled like floor cleaner. My mother brought me a blanket. I saw her in the hall and ran toward her. I held onto my mother. My teacher said, “Let go of your mother.” I cried. Two teachers pulled me off of my mother because they didn’t want my mom to pick me up. Then I stopped crying. The school was strict about parents visiting their children. They wanted the kids to become more independent.

Packing for America

When I packed to move to America I brought these things with me: my blanket, my pillow, clothes, family pictures and one toy. Everything smelled like the soap my mom washed my clothes in because I packed it all together. I chose my pillow because it has the words Good Friend and Mickey Mouse on it. My blanket has a flower on it and I’ve had it since I was little. I brought clothes for cold weather because I knew about the cold fog in San Francisco. I chose my teddy bear because it’s my favorite. My mom said only one toy because we were already bringing too much stuff.

About the Author

My name is Vicky. I am eight years old and I am shy. I live with my parents in San Francisco. I like doing math and I am good at drawing. When I grow up I want to be a teacher. If I were a plant I would be a tree because trees give us fresh air. I hope my sister will be smart when she is born. Right now she is still inside my mom.