November 30, 2015
By Emily Bedard, WITS Writer-in-Residence On a recent day when the trees flashed a hundred hues against a cloudy Seattle sky, I entered a fourth grade WITS class, planning to play with color. We began by reading Red Sings from Treetops by Joyce Sidman and Pamela Zagarenski, with its saturated, leaping language and its intricate, dreamlike […]
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November 23, 2015
The Sea I kept deep-sea secrets in a little black bag. I carried boats through the toughest storms. I asked the fish where the shark lived. I was rough but calm. I was tired. I knew when the storm would come. I tried to keep the boats away with waterspouts. I tried to keep the […]
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November 19, 2015
The Hymnal I am the hymnal and I have heard prayers. You call them prayers, I call them hopes Of a mother who drank away her youth. I call them music of a man with smoke in his lungs And magic in his hands I catch the tears of the desperate, I hear the skepticism […]
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November 17, 2015
I Used to Be a Small, Thin Bone I used to be a sloppy flower afraid to take bloom, but now I seem to walk the clouds, ruling over all that crushed me. I seem to be a small, thin bone too shy to find myself, but really I am a fluffy dragon filled with […]
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November 16, 2015
I Used To I used to worry about my life: what will make me finally draw that smile, what makes me chase the dreams. But as soon as I hit high school, things weren’t as they seem. I sit and I kick rocks, try to do what my bible tells me to do, but I […]
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November 6, 2015
Daniella Edwards wrote this comic while a student at McClure Middle School in 2014-15, with WITS Writer-in-Residence Greg Stump. She read it to open for Alison Bechdel, the first presenter in SAL’s Women You Need to Know series.
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November 5, 2015
Light My mind is like a light bulb getting switched on and off. When I get turned on my mind explodes with ideas, all filling my brain with different things to do, write, play. It is a magical thing, a feeling that can’t be compared with any other, my thoughts lighting up as if there […]
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November 3, 2015
Silent The buzz of cyan, teal, turquoise against my eyelids so different, yet so alike Whoosh, I’m gone A shadow of a man needing redevelopment The A-frame taking a spot in my shell of a self then falling away as a spirit the walls close, inward but I am not claustrophobic I am one with […]
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