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Montclair Elementary

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Check us out! Montclair Elementary TMWFI student writing samples

Ode to French Fries by Izzy

Oh you crispy, golden potatoes

You must be my weakness how I love you.

The smell of salt and olive oil,

the taste of a golden award.

But when you leave, I dream of more.

 

"Timo the Taco" Personification by Sophie

Yo! Hey you! I'm talking to myself! And you're gonna listen!

I was born in the Tarantula Taco Tiki. I was made with the finest ground beef, the most expensive cheese, the glossiest lettuce, and the spiciest salsa! Long story short--I'm "rich." But I'm lonesome! I am the taco who dropped out of Taco school two years early. I want to be a detective! But so far all I am is...Timo, the taco detective that never was, or will be!  

  SophieIzzyAva

Ode to Broccoli by Ava

You are like mini trees to

be hacked down by my teeth

with a slight rain of ranch

even though you make my friends gag

I love you.

 

Recipe of Me by Victor

talk a lot

football books

parks

two sisters

1 brother

blue and gold

strawberries

1. Put all ingredients into a big blender.

2. Push fast.

3. Don't forget to put the lid on.

4. Pour in a pot.

5. Turn on the flame.

6. Cook for 7 hours.

7. Pour into bowls.

8. Serve it hot.

9. Serve brownies for desert.

  Victor

Ode to Tea by Laila

Tea, hey you tea, you are my best friend. You are nothing when you are just simple water. You are tasteless and you have no reason to drool. But when your flavor is dropped in, your fabulous self begins in a split second and that is something to lick your lips for. The tea bag swills and the soon-to-be-tea gets its deliciousness by the ticking of the clock. I take the tea bag out and suck it, this is my first taste of your exquisite self. Green, chocolate truffle, lemon, chamomile, vanilla chai, and much more flavors you come in. So tea, hey you tea, I'm talking to you. You are my favorite and I need to taste you again.

  TiaraLaila

Ode to Calamari by Tiara

As brown as gold, so crispy that it's sometimes crunchy. It's flavor is dancing on your tongue. Soon the flavor pops then your stomach has a fiesta as it yells "come on, throw more calamari down," but then it stops and every things back to normal.

 

Food Fright by Miles

I hate peanuts! Those ugly crunchy little things. They're moldy and wrinkley. I bet they come from the underworld. Devils made those ugly little peanut things to infect tongues and anything that touches them. Those little meanies. If I eat them one more time I don't know what I would do! I might turn into a devil. Miles the devil. It sounds horrible.

  Miles

Recipe of Me by Lillian

Add the quart of smartness to the 2 cups of memories into a bowl carefully. Put the gallon of love in a bowl with the 5 pinches of silliness and the pint of talkativeness. In the last small bowl, put the bright blue eyes with the teaspoon of cuteness. Then add all of it together and thoroughly add in the 3 tablespoons of athleticness. Once done, bake in a pie plate and put in an oven for 5 hours to bake slowly. Before eating, place on a golden plate. Then eat up.

  Lillian

Similes and Metaphors by Allison

The fudge was the deep, rich color of a redwood tree deep in the forest.

The jello shook like a belly dancer in Morocco.

The avocados bumpy skin is like a toad preparing to leap. The avocado is like an oyster, waiting to be opened for its inside beauty.

  Allison

Personification excerpt by Maya

There once lived a tiny cupcake named Babycake. Babycake decided to go on a cruise to Kauaii. She didn't want to leave her home in Mariposa Bakery because she loved it there, but she said goodbye to Papa Pizza, Cindy Cinnamon Roll, Flora Foccacia Bread, Wendy Whoopie Pie, and Chunk Chocolate Chip Cookie and started on her way.  The next morning she was looking at a map and discovered she had made a wrong turn. Babycake tried to go back, but the wind was too strong. It pushed her into an island. When she got off she discovered it was Marshmallow Island. All of a sudden a marshmallow came running up to her...

Maya

Recipe of Me Elizabeth T.

Pour the 1 quart of a British accent into a gold plated mixing bowl with the mostly American and German background. Then whisk the batter together while slowly adding the pinch of clumsiness. Then take out a small bowl and grind the 1/4 Cup of talkativeness and the 2 tablespoons of teenage girl show off together. Then pour the gallon of crazy, funny, and random stuff into the pan and saute it with some olive oil and then evely cut it to put it in the bowls that will serve 14.

Elizabeth T

Similes and Metaphors by Szophia

As the piece of chocolate heaven slips past my lips, I feel the deep cream dance across my tongue like a ballet dancer, with footsteps light as a butterfly's wings.

The jello was the color of a blooming rose, red as the depths of a volcano, it slides around my mouth like a new born colt.

The sweet vanilla ice cream slips down my throat like a breeze on a hot summer day, reviving my throat as if it were a potion made by faeries.

Szophia

Recipe of Me by Elizabeth G.

1. Put journals and books in large deep bowl. Pound and blow about until all oages are mixed up. Save spines for further use.

2. In a separate bowl drop sugar, spice, fire, and ice. You will see spurts of flame, ice crystals, sugar white marzipan unicorns, and spice demons. DO NOT touch the bowl for at least five minutes or until demeons and unicorns stop trying to kill each other and start to meditate.

3. Go back to where we left off with step 1. Add in the blue something if liquid. Boil over low heat. Add awesomeness 2 cups at a time.

4. Dump the solution of "de laughs" in all at once. You should hear tremendous laughter. This is good.

5. Take bowl off heat.

6 . Return to where we left off with step two. Dump in the Italian food.

(...to be continued)

Elizabeth G.

Ode to Peaches by Talia

I love peaches. They're fuzzy and soft. Inside they're full of juicy peach sweetness. When I take a bite of a yellow crunchy peach, I feel like I am sitting on a big puffy cloud loving my peach.

Talia

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Check us out! Writing excerpts from Montclair Elementary grades 3-5

ElizabethG Szofia Nicole

Exercise: The beginning of Szofia's Secrets story

BEEPBeepBEEPBeepBEEP! wails my alarm clock.

Ugh. I ABSOLUTELY hate the stupid torture devices. I try to slam my fist down on it, but my knuckles scrape the wall. Did I mention my puny room is smaller than my closet at my old room? If I had a nickel for every reason I had to curse moving to this infernal house I would be filthy stinkin’ rich! Sigh.

I pull out my everything-you-could-ever-need-pack and rustle around for a Band-aid. I get up and put my school uniform on, a boring plaid skirt, white button down shirt, navy blue tie, and navy blue loafers. Boring with a side of snores.

I slide down the railing all the way down to the over-crowded kitchen just in time to meet my flush-faced mother.

“Sailor Smith, how many times have I told you to quit sliding down the banister,” she hollers and bustles up the stairs. “Now where did I put my glasses?”

I see them on her head, but I don’t tell her. She’ll find them...eventually.

-By Szofia

An excerpt from the beginning of Elizabeth’s Secrets story:

The earth feels warm and moist under my bare feet. The nightingales sing and dance around me, waiting for the treats they know my sparkling green eyes and black hair to bring. Magna pads slowly behind me. I turn and award the silver lynx with some sausage that I had smuggled her.

I had first started to visit Cashmere, the woods I was in, a few years ago because I had needed to provide food for a poor family taking shelter there. At first, the family had been slightly scared of me, but they soon got used to me and to the food I brought them.

 -By Elizabeth G.

LillianElizabethT

An excerpt from Ava’s I Remember Poem:

I remember my first crepe, warm and delicious, with nutella oozing out the sides.

I remember the sound of my foot pounding against the soccer ball and the sweet smell of the wet grass after a rainy day.

I remember New York. The cold slight breeze, while the shining lights take over the darkness in the sky.

-By Ava

 ElizabethG Szofia Nicole

An excerpt from Nicole’s My Secret Is...Poem:

My secret is made from

the sweetness of sugar,

the colors of different colored sprinkles,

the creamy, buttery frosting.

 

I found it in a wonder of candles lit with colorful dripping wax,

the clouds like fluffy cream waiting for me to know.

-By Nicole

Victor’s My Secret Is...Poem:

My secret is made from pipes, new pipes, old pipes.

It is like rocks and holes under the sink.

It is large, heavy, and cold.

 

I find it at the supply house, Ace, and in people’s homes.

My dad’s van drives it around to different places—San Francisco, Berkeley, Oakland, and Hayward.  

It’s in abandoned dirty houses and in nice lived-in houses.

 

This secret can fix things—toilets, bathrooms, rooms, floors, garages, streets, and sidewalks. It can also break things.

 

If I lost this secret I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I would remember and teach my sister.

-By Victor

Victor

An excerpt from Sophie’s My Secret Is...Poem:

My secret is made from the richest words in the world.

Fragile papers flip as you journey into this magical land.

Fill up your head with warmth or darken your soul with cruel characters.

Letting your mind take flight like a bird or crawl like a dog, opening doors to feel its words.

 

I found it sitting soundly on wooden shelves.

Waiting for someone daring enough to sunk their teeth into them.

-By Sophie

Sophie

Lillian’s My Secret Is...Poem:

My secret is made from

beautiful sparkles,

the nature around us,

and all the clouds in the

sky.

 

I found it flying high

in the sky

floating around

going nowhere

 

This secret can

flutter

around in the sky,

going up

and going down.

 

If I lost this secret

my heart would

sink,

all hope will be

lost,

lost,

lost.

-By Lillian

An excerpt from the beginning of Elizabeth T.’s Secret Recipe Story:

Today my family and I are going to my Grandma’s house to clean out her attic. She’s moving to a nursing home on the other side of town. We started just by bringing boxes down. Then we started filtering through the boxes. And I found recipe! It wasn’t a recipe for food. It was a recipe for magic. It was in one of the old rolls, all tarnished. I snuck it home in my jacket pocket.

 

-By Elizabeth T.

 

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