Remembering Grampa

Grampa
By: Mrs. Wandishin

My Grandpa was a gardener. He loved to be outdoors with his shirt off and the sunshine on his back. He had a hairy back that used to make my sister and I giggle to touch. He had beautiful white hair and bright blue eyes that twinkled when he laughed.
Grandpa loved all flowers, but he loved his roses best. I would often accompany him on long tours of his yard and surrounding fields where he would point out the names of different roses that were growing everywhere! They were bright beautiful yellows, deep, crimson reds and snowy white with rainbows of pink and they smelled heavenly! I remember following him around his big old farm while he was working in the different flower beds. He would keep a running dialogue going about what he was doing and why. Often I would reach out my little kid hands and try to help and he would snap, “Don’t pull that! It’s not a weed!” I would snatch my hand back and just sit back on my heels and watch.
I remember one particular sunny, spring day my grampa and I were in his front yard weeding his daffodil bed. I was lolling on the grass on my stomach with my chin in my hands, lazily watching him feel around the stems of the daffodils for the nasty weeds that could choke the life out of the beautiful flowers. He was so efficient the way he pulled them and then smoothed the warm, brown soil back over the erupted earth.
As I lay there and watched the blue sky and white, puffy clouds sail across the sky, I noticed a bumble bee land on a nearby stump. Without even thinking about it, I jumped up and took my shoe off and raced to the stump ready to crush its life out with the heel of my shoe. As I raised my arm to take aim, I heard my grampa yell, “Stop!” My arm froze in midair and I turned to look at him.
He was staring at me with a look on his face that was a mixture of shock, surprise and yes, even horror! He said, “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to kill this bee before it stings me,” I replied, a little shakily now that I had seen his face and his reaction to this almost-murder!
“Why would you do that?” he asked.
I hesitated and replied quite honestly, “I don’t know?!”
He said, “Come over here and sit with me.” So I walked over and sat down beside him. He put his arm around me and said, “Now, sit here and watch the bee go about his business for a few minutes.” So I sat resting peacefully in the crook of his arm.
We watched that bee for 20 minutes. It took off from the stump and flew to a nearby crabapple tree. It drunk hungrily from the blossoms and then kind of drunkenly took off to fly to another crabapple tree.
My grandfather chuckled when I mentioned the bee looked like he had too much to drink and said, “He’s full of nectar!” It’s like sugar water to us. Everytime he leaves one tree the pollen on his feet go with him. When he lands on the next tree, he fertilizes it. It’s how fertilization takes place and trees grow those beautiful blossoms.”
I sat watching and thinking for a long time. Grampa had gone back to weeding his daffodils. I realized, lying there in the warm spring sun that he had just taught me a valuable life’s lesson. He taught me that everything has its place in life and that if you are patient, and wait and watch, you will see what that place is.
To this day, I try never to kill an insect when I see them. I will go out of my way to send a ladybug on her way when she has gotten lost and landed on my shoulder. I even send stinkbugs back outside, because in the back of my mind, I can still hear my grampa saying, “Wait, watch and let it go about its business and you will see why it is here on Earth!” So I do.

The Adventures of Hermanie and Clementine

By: Searrah

Hermanie is a lobster and Clementine is a crab. They are good friends. They live in the Atlantice Ocean, near an island that is on a reef.

Hermanie saw a big fish that was really a boat. The they heard other fish say, "Swim away, swim away"! They saw a big net coming from the big "fish". Then Hermanie and Clementine swam to their secret hideout that was a cave.

Hermanie and Clementine stuck their heads out of the cave. They wanted to watch what was going on.

The fishermen were upset that they didn't catch any fish and that the fishing net was broken. The fish, Hermanie, and Clementine had a party for two days straight. THE END

The Military Mishap

The Military Mishap
By: NewKid96

"Randy, Randy!" someone yelped.
"What is it?" my dad answered calmly. I was some time in the 1980's Saudi Arabia, first Gulf War, and sort of dark out. "Look out the window"! My father automatically knew it was his friend Lt. Baker. Then he looked out the window, a green glow instantly caught his eye. He waited till the next morning to tell (I don't know his name so I'm just gonna call him Commander Freddy) about the glow.

The next morning he told Commander "Freddy" about the glow. "Freddy" replied sayinng, "We know about the glow, turns out it was the light form the lanterns those native campers were using."
"Campers?" my dad said.
"Yes, campers," he replied.

My dad and Commander Freddy went out to see the tents at a bad time. There was a sand storm and my dad could taste the grit. The commander was mumbling something under his breath, but my dad could not make out what he was saying.

As my dad got closer, his hand slowly reached down to his pistol. When they were about ten feet away, his postol was loaded and in his hand. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He cold see nothing but two dark figures.

One of them spoke English and told my dad a comment, "I like your boots, he said.
The commander started shouting excitedly, "Get out!" he said. We can't take off 'cus' your on our runway!" My dad tried to calm him down, but it didn't work. "We've got guns, big guns!" he screeched.

After a couple more shouts, they left commander and my dad. Every day my dad kept a very close eye on those two campers. The soldier never really bothered those campers again, knowing they might be spies or something. But the soldiers could never spy on them because they were always speaking their native tongue.

After a couple of days, the campers left, and the soldiers could finally take off. But my dad could never find that missing pair of boots.

I think this story has a sort of moral. The moral is that sometimes the best thing to do is nothing. But don't just do nothing. THE END

Author's Note:
This is a half-true story and half fiction. For example, Commander Freddy is a made up character, campers are (were) real. Oddly, their love of boots are real. Nobody knew why they loved boots but hey, Saudi Arabia must be a strange country.

Welcome to Wandishin's Wicked (Good) Writers

We are a classroom of 5th graders. Our classroom is located at Crooked River Elementary School in Casco, Maine, USA. In the very near future our blog will contain posts which will display the poems, essays, and stories that make up our writing portfolio. Our teacher, Ms. Wandhishin, will post our writing in the hopes that we may get some feedback and constructive critism. We are doing this to broaden our writing audience and to make the editing process more effective. So, check back here in the weeks to come to view our work and provide some feedback that will help us out or give us a pat on the back. If you are a teacher and are doing a similar blog with your students, we would love to know about it so that we can provide feedback for your kids too. Please email Ms. Wandhishin at: bwandishin@sad61.k12.me.us