Marymount Authors

At Marymount, we recognize that creative writing is a vital way for our students to develop their cognitive and communication skills. We are proud of the accomplishments of our international students and publish their writing to encourage their critical...

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Confirmation Retreat Reflection

by Isabel, Grade 7

In April, the confirmation class went on a retreat to Béziers. The reason we went to Béziers specifically is because it is where the RSHM was founded. While we were there, we learned about Père Gailhac and Mère Saint Jean, and the other founders of the RSHM from a current RSHM sister residing in the motherhouse, Sr. Therese Marie.

On the first day, Friday, we stared out day with a mass at St. Jacques. It was a reflective time, and Father Aidan was extremely kind, asking the whole school to pray for those of us going. After the mass, we proceeded to the train station, where we waited for the train. All of the students had a fun time on the train, talking about what awaited us in Béziers.

When we arrived at the platform, all of us were pleasantly surprised at the beautiful sun in the city. We went to the hotel to drop our bags and see our rooms. After a while, we were called down so that we could go to the RSHM motherhouse. Walking to the motherhouse, we passed through the beautiful city of Béziers. Upon our arrival at the motherhouse, the resident Sister greeted us.

We all made nametags so that Sr could identify us. Next, we started a very interesting presentation on the history of the RSHM and its mission. We ate a delicious dinner with our friends, teachers, and the Sisters.

After that, we watched a movie about a football team guided by faith. The movie was a very important reminder (to all of us, I assume) that we should ‘praise God weather we win or lose’. This also served as a reminder for the Marymount Paris students during the RSHM Sports Festival, which was the next week. By the end of the film, we were all so engrossed that we were all cheering out loud when the thing we wanted to happen, happened.

After the movie, we had a discussion about finding and overcoming the ‘giants’ in our lives, the things that scared us because we could not find a way to beat them. It was a very open and safe space, and we were all grateful to have the experience to bond with our classmates. After that we went home.

On Saturday, early in the morning, we made our way to the motherhouse. We all had high spirits and waited for another good day. In the morning, we toured the motherhouse and saw all of the historical artifacts that it had stored, including objects belonging to Mère Saint Jean and Père Gailhac. The motherhouse was so big and I’m sure all of us were amazed.

During the tour, one of the things I was blown away by was a beautiful mural painted by Sr. Bernadette. It showed people of all different ethnicities and backgrounds coming together. It showed all that Marymount stood for, in our motto, ‘unity through diversity’.

During the tour, we also went to the crypt, which was where the bodies of important RSHM figures were. It was a very moving experience to see everything in the crypt, and we could write specific prayers on papers in the crypt, and pray to Père Gailhac for them. Later, we returned to the crypt and learned about the many miracles for the RSHM, and the canonization of Père Gailhac. We also saw Père’s heart.

After our tour, we went to the room where we had our previous conversations, and talked about the importance of reflection, and being alone with God. We also talked about how silence can help us in our reflection. We were all challenged to a fifteen-minute silent reflection. Before the reflection, we were all doubtful if we could actually do it.

We all went off to different and private parts of the motherhouse to pray and reflect. I ended up in the chapel. It was difficult to keep pulling my attention to what I was supposed to be focusing on, and my mind kept wandering off. However, eventually, I was able to focus and reflect. I could barely believe it when Sr Marion came in and said fifteen-minutes were over.

We discussed our reflections in a group, and I was not alone when I said that it was hard to focus. I was grateful that I was eventually able to focus, because some people were not able to. After this, we ate lunch, which was another delicious meal in the motherhouse.

After lunch, we discussed parables and their significance in the Christian faith. We were each assigned a parable, and then given another silent reflection period, however this time it was thirty minutes. This reflection was relatively similar to my first one, however this time I had more time to think.

Following our reflections, all of us were kind of speechless; we didn’t know what to say. We all felt connected by something; we didn’t know what, but something in the group dynamic had changed. We all had mostly the same reaction to the second reflection.

After that, we had a tour guided by Sr Marion about Béziers. We all learned a lot about the roots of the RSHM from the city, and what role it had in the creation of the organization. The tour was very interesting.

The next thing we did was go to make a banner for our 2017 Marymount conformandi. We all cut out shapes out of felt for the banner, while one person wrote on it. At the end of designing it, I think we were all very satisfied with the end result, but even more so, fulfilled by the teamwork of the group.

We left the motherhouse and went to get dinner. We got scrumptious margarita pizzas at a restaurant, and we sat down and laughed and bonded about our feeling of the day. There was sadness in the air, knowing that we were leaving the next day, but it had felt like we had only been there for a second. After the pizza, we got frozen yoghurt.

The next day, and unfortunately, the last day, we went to the Béziers cathedral. We were all showing off that we knew how to navigate a cathedral, thanks to Ms. Amy and the religion curriculum. We waited around the cathedral for a while, exploring the grounds and gardens, and eventually went in for eleven o’clock mass. We did not understand much, because the mass was in French, but we respected the spiritual significance of it.

After the mass, it was the sad time of going home. We got on the TGV again and headed back to Paris. On the train back, we all chatted about the fun times we had had in Béziers, and how much we had learned.

I know that all of the Marymount 2017 conformation students have been bonded by the experience. We spent a great three days in the wondrous city and we will remember it as a highlight of our Marymount career forever. I’m sure we all grew a lot in spirit and in friendship with each other.

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Not Just Another Brick in the Wall

Nirali’s story, Not Just Another Brick in the Wall, won 1st place for her grade level in the American Library of Paris’ Young Authors Fiction Festival 2017. 

Not Just Another Brick in the Wall by Nirali, Grade 8

The pair of weathered, dull ankle bells lay still and mute, no more stories to tell. They had travelled the world, performed on countless stages, and received resounding applause. However, after being lovingly passed down over generations, they had run into a wall when they reached me - the black sheep of the family.

It was during our Christmas trip to India that my mother gifted me her treasured ghungroo. Holding the strung metallic bells gingerly, I felt intimidated by their weight - physical and symbolical. She pointed out, “Aisha, these belonged originally to your great-grandmother, a renowned Indian classical dancer in the early 1900s. She called them her lucky charm. Look after them and use them well!”

“Nice try, Mom,” I mumbled. “What makes you think I can do it this time? Dance is not my cup of tea.”

Still convinced that a talent lay latent in my genes, she cheerfully insisted, “Never say never, Aisha! I’ve signed you up for lessons at New Delhi’s best dance school!” My fists clenched in resentment that my holiday dreams of travel photography now lay crumpled like the flight boarding ticket I had just discarded.

After a disturbed night, I woke up to the comforting aroma of masala chai. A petite, unfamiliar figure greeted me in the kitchen. My grandmother, whom we were visiting, introduced us, “Aisha, meet Riya. I tutor her because she loves playing truant from school. Her mother helps me with housework.” Riya grinned unabashedly as she twirled her hair that she wore teased, à la mode. I recognized her green sweater - a castoff from my wardrobe. While she claimed she was thirteen like me, she could have passed off as younger, coming from a poor family that lived with bare necessities.

My grandmother suggested we played outdoors to learn more about each other. We were not too old to dash for the swings! Mid-air, I queried impulsively, “Riya, why do you skip classes?”

She was honest. “Why bother attending school? It’s free but futile for someone like me who won’t ever make use of an education. Besides, my parents are sending me off to work in a brick kiln soon. They depend on me to repay our debts. I’m so eager to earn my living! ”

I came to earth with a thud. Shocked at her naïveté, I blurted, “You don’t have a clue what you’re getting into! Child labor is brutal and illegal. Brick kilns will only signal the end of your education and health - your basic rights, Riya. Please don’t go!” Seeing her unmoved, I changed tack, “What are your hobbies?”

            “I love to dance when I can,” she enthused. “It makes me oblivious to my troubles. I feel graceful as a peacock and in control, as if nothing will ever go wrong!” I understood her completely. I felt that way with my Nikon slung round my neck.

             I spent another agitated night, pondering over my life and Riya’s - so different yet similar. We were both slaves to family expectations. Glancing at the ankle bells, my mother’s words resonated in my head, “Use them well.” I knew what I had to do. 

Making chai for me at breakfast, my grandmother announced, “Riya’s family is sending her to school in their hometown. She will be happier there!” I choked on my tea - my family didn’t know the truth! I had to act quickly.

           “Aisha, where were you all day? Time for your lesson - quickly get your ghungroo!” my mother admonished me that evening.

“I don’t have them, I’m sorry!” I hung my head.

“Did you leave them somewhere?”

“Ma, I didn’t say I lost them. I just don’t have them any more.” I held out a wad of Indian rupees.

“Aisha, what is this? You owe me an explanation. I told you the ghungroo are precious. How - ”

I interrupted urgently, “Don’t ask questions, please. Just trust me. Take this money to Riya’s family. She is not going to school – she’s going to work as a laborer. Riya told me herself. It’s her family’s only way to survive.”

“If you knew this, why didn’t you tell us? So irresponsible, Aisha, I’m really - ” she paused to answer the doorbell.

“Someone for you,” I heard her call out to me.

“Young lady, I believe these belong to you,” a woman, dressed in a Kathak dancer’s flowing attire, handed me my ankle bells. I gaped, the center of my family’s discomforting censure.

“So, Aisha, you got rid of the ghungroo thinking you could escape dance? You’ve betrayed our trust,” concluded my mother.

“On the contrary, Ma’am, she has proved herself a responsible and generous teenager,” the lady announced. She turned to me. “While browsing the antique shop earlier today, I overheard you selling your heirlooms to save your friend. I retrieved them because I’m an ardent follower of your great-grandmother. These are rightfully yours.”

I felt suffocated. It was now or never. “No, I don’t want them back. I can’t dance either. Please understand me. All I want is for Riya and me to follow our dreams – she is the one who can dance! I just want to capture the world in my camera lens!” 

The day before I left India, Riya posed on the swings for my camera. Relieved her family was debt-free, I rejoiced, “Riya, thanks to the lady who returned these ghungroo, you will join her dance school! When I told her of your passion for dance, she even offered you a scholarship. Now you’ll become famous, you know, not just another brick in the wall!” As she nodded imperceptibly, I realized that my ankle bells no longer felt heavy. They seemed to have regained their vibrancy and golden sheen, and were ready to tell a new tale. I held them out to her. My great-grandmother would agree that Riya would do them justice. As for me, I could finally picture my future the way I wanted to.

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The Three Sisters

Sofia’s story was written as part of the eighth grade RSHM Heritage Award. Students who choose to do this have to create five projects, one of each of five RSHM goals. In order to fulfill goal 3, To instill a lifelong love of learning, Sofia decided to write a short story for each month of the school year.

This is her story for March.

The Three Sisters by Elena, Grade 8

Long ago, when things weren’t always changing as they are now, and the world much different than this one, there lived three sisters. They worked on an apple farm, the only property they had been left after their family had left them for the city and never came back.

Elizabeth Smith was the eldest of the three sisters, though only by three years. She had long, shiny dark hair that grew in beautiful ringlets. Her green eyes were attentive and full of cunning behind them, and never seemed to never lack in confidence.

Ethel Smith was the middle of the three. Her pale skin turned rosy with the heat of the sun. Ethel was the bargainer, the deal maker of the three. She reasoned with everyone, and seemed to leave a feeling of contentment everywhere she went.

Clara Smith was the youngest and the sweetest of the three. Three years behind Elizabeth, one behind Ethel, she was the child of the family. Her hair was golden, and her skin lightly touched by its rays. She seemed to have come out of a fairytale book, a princess just waiting to be rescued.

The marketplace was the center of life of the village. All the people would come together to buy and sell, trade and give. The sisters were known for their fruit business. They grew the most vibrant fruits in the city, though they were known specifically for their apples. They would grow them sweet under the sun, and they were the best in the whole village for sure. But the three sisters always saw a factor with which they could never quite come to terms. They simply couldn’t match the apples’ sweet taste with the harsh brown color of their outsides. They envisioned another look to heir beloved fruit, one of liveliness to match the taste. But before the idea could be developed, the harshest winter came.

The sisters, however, were not easily defeated. They had to double their work in order to survive, but they did it without complaint for the first month. But then the cold doubled, freezing the plants, not allowing them to grow higher than a sampling. The sisters come to the conclusion that, because of the change in their environment, the normal plants would never sprout, and they feared they wouldn’t be able to survive for more than a month without the income.

Ethel turned in defeat, leaning against the rough wall. She took her head in her hands and started to cry lightly, turning her pale skin an intense pink as she wept. Elizabeth sat staring blankly at the papers in front of her, frustration blocking out her crying sister’s sobs.

Murmuring under her breath, she threw the papers up into the air and stormed out of the dimly lit room into the night.

Elizabeth was never one to express her emotions before others. She had always taken on the role of the strong one, never intimidated by anything. She started to walk quickly into the fields, struggling to keep the warmth in her bones. She broke into a run, closing her eyes against the slapping wind. She ran until she couldn’t breathe any longer and looked up at the hill in front of her. Of all of the plants, only three had managed to produce a fruit. The first plant had been old, and it was a miracle the apples still thrived, escpecially during the winter. The second tree was much younger than the first, almost as young as the third. The second tree was resistant to the cold, its leaves never seemed to frost. However, the second tree had a loose grip on the soil around it, and shook violently in response to the slightest gust of wind. The third tree was the youngest. At the beginning it had had lush green leaves, but with the first frost they had fallen off - apart from the blossom which had produced the apple. But before the sisters could pick the fruits, the crows had come to feed themselves. All that remained was a scrap on each plant, dug into the earth.

Elizabeth was only able to find three seeds, one in each apple, but three were enough. She sprinted back into the night, down the hill and into the house, anxious for the morning to come to share the news.

The morning came much quicker than Ethel thought it would. Soon enough, the early morning sun awoke her, though she knew it would be covered once again by clouds in the next hours. She opened the kitchen door to find Elizabeth excitedly talking to Clara, whose smile was widening by the second. She rushed to greet them, and then saw the three small seeds in Elizabeth’s palm. Her jaw tensed, not understanding how three seeds could bring Clara such joy and hope.

“Look at what I found,” Elizabeth started, the three seeds in her strong hands. She explained how she had obtained them.

“I still don’t understand how this will help us make up for a whole harvest,” said Ethel, “And if the apple you found was rotten…isn’t it a bad sign? Isn’t it messing with nature?”

“We could try modifying the seeds. If we make them stronger, more resistant, there’s a chance that we might make it through the season,” Elizabeth explained, not having an answer for Ethel. She averted her eyes. The conversation was closed.

The three sisters set off on an adventure, an adventure of trial and error. Except there was no space for an error. The seeds were three, and no more could be expected. The sisters decided that each seed should take advantage of its plant’s characteristic. Elizabeth picked the old plant’s seed. Her plan was to make an apple which wouldn’t rot easily. This way, it would be fit for the harsher seasons. Ethel, instead, wanted an apple ready to resist the cold. She picked the second seed. She knew that a thicker skin would shield it from the harsh winds and rain. The third seed was left for Clara. She knew that the tree was strong in its structure. She decided that the apple would have to have a hard core, able to keep the seeds together and protect them from pests. The sisters set immediately to work. They used different types of soils they could find on their farm and filtered water with special methods only they knew. In only three days, the saplings started to sprout. The sisters only worked harder. But the hours outside were long, and the winter only became colder.

Elizabeth started noticing Clara’s sneezes after a week of work. She tried to point them out to her, urged her to go rest. But Clara only wanted to work harder. Soon her sneezes turned into small coughs. But in a blink, her coughs rattled her thinning body. Ethel and Elizabeth gave her all their clothes, draping her worn out shawls, urging her to sleep and rest. But Clara wouldn’t hear of it. She continued to develop her small plant. It grew faster than Ethel’s and Elizabeth’s, and after only a few weeks the first saplings had sprung.

Ethel noticed that, as Clara grew weaker, her plant seemed to grow stronger. After only a month’s work, a tiny round fruit hung from the thin branches. It was a vibrant yellow color, almost the same color as Clara’s hair. But with no money for medication, and the cold which never stopped, it was no surprise that Clara left them. As soon as her eyes closed, the apple blossomed into a full fruit, shining even in the sober light.

Clara’s apples were sweet and soft. They reminded the one who bit into them of tender memories. Ethel and Elizabeth grew wealthy enough to afford a life with a bit more food. For ten more years, the remaining two sisters strived, though mourning the loss of their sister. If Elizabeth had been toughened by the loss of her sister, filled with anger at herself, Ethel had become only softer and sad.

When at the beginning of fall a merchant had approached the door of the two girls, lost in the identical looking hills, it was no surprise Ethel had welcomed him in, agreeing to give him shelter from the cold for one night. The next morning the merchant left, leaving a golden penny in exchange for the girls’ kindness. However, it was not all he left.

Ethel’s plant had started to grow faster than before. It was starting to produce a small red fruit. The winter months were coming and the temperature was dropping steadily. However, it seemed that Ethel was sweating more and continuously hot. Only when she collapse did Elizabeth realize Ethel was sick with whatever disease the merchant had left behind. Ethel asked not to be brought to a doctor, or take any medicine, but to remain in her home. Elizabeth was reluctant to agree, but she obeyed her dying sister’s wish. Ethel’s apple blossomed into a bright red fruit, tasting of empathy and compassion.

Elizabeth, however, lived to old age. She turned bitter from the days of cold and the loss of her sisters. She left the old house for the town, where she married and was loved, and grew up to be known as Granny. But she was never really able to love in return. A piece of her had been lost.

And her apple, a vivid green, was as bitter as she.

[marymountparisauthors]

Finals

Jamiee’s story, “Finals”, earned her first place in the Marymount Writing Contest. Judge Hazel Manuel, author of Kanyakumari and The Geranium Woman, spoke of Jamiee’s ability to create a realistic character and an imaginary world that the reader does not want to leave. Special thanks to teacher Ruth Druart for proposing and organizing the contest.

Extract from Finals (A chapter story in process) by Jamiee, Grade 7

Chapter 1

I pick at the loose nail on my finger. It’s a bad habit of mine. A woman stands behind me tying up my hair.

   “ Stop messing with that nail,” she scolds. I stop. I am an obedient child, most of the time. I shift my weight to my other foot. All this standing still is making me restless. She steps back.

   “ Done,” she remarks.

Finally I think.

   “ May I now look at all your hard work,” I say with sarcasm. She keeps quiet and turns me towards the full-length mirror that leans against our peeling beige wallpaper. I look the same as always at this time of year. My black hair is tied up with a blue silk ribbon; a blue ribbon is a requirement for every family who has a girl. My eyes move to my dress. It’s different to the colour of the ribbon. White cotton with a blue sash going around my waist and is finished in a bow at the back. I finally take a look at my shoes. Black polished pumps with a worn down heel. I wear them every year, since my feet never seem to grow. They stopped when I was ten. I glance back up at my face. My blue eyes are staring back at me and I hold the stare. If the copy of me in the mirror can stare for so long then so can I. But I have to look away. I wipe the tears that were beginning to form from my eyes. It’s difficult to keep your eyes open for so long. I don’t know how frogs make it look so easy.

   The lady moves away from behind me and waltzes to the kitchen.

   “ And remember Rani, I want to see full marks on your exam,” she chimes.

   “ Yes mother,” I reply robotically. Thirteen questions. How hard can that be?

Our society was made before anyone can remember. I think it was after some rebels at a conference assassinated our first mayor. Sherald Far was a man that everyone around the world looked up to. He was inspiration to all by what he did, said and wrote. The conference was a peace treaty between the six bordering countries. They had been battling each other for a while, when they had finally decided it should come to an end. Unfortunately, there was one country that wouldn’t stand down. He was giving refuge to some dangerous rebels and had them murder everyone there. But they only got away with killing one while the others had escaped. Sherald had come with his assistant, Danny Sparks, who was next in line as mayor. He was the person who came up with the idea of building a new sanctuary for our society. And just in time, because after the meeting, a huge war broke out. Our country had the only people left surviving. Over the years, our mayors have made new rules, new spaces, new ways for making life better. I think they made it worse.

She comes back out from the kitchen with a faux fur coat on. She was ripped off for that coat. A lady at a store said that it was genuine arctic fox fur and she had it selling at two hundred gold coins. My mother learned never to trust old ladies selling clothes ever again.

   “ Where’s your father?”

   “ Out back. Chopping wood.”

She gives an exasperated sigh and storms out at what I said. I look out the front door that she left hanging wide open. Our garden is neat, though there are a few weeds growing here and there. I see my mother clomping in her high heels towards a man dressed it a red plaid shirt with torn brown pants and scuffed sneakers.

   “ Felix, what on earth are you doing?” I hear her yell. He looks up from the piece of wood and lowers his hatchet; he wipes sweat from his forehead. They have a lengthy discussion and soon enough, Felix is coming through the door to get to the bathroom.

   “ Your mother is so picky,” I hear him mutter. Then I hear him turn the shower on. She shouldn’t have shouted at him. It wasn’t his fault that he forgot what today was. Today was the day of our yearly testing. It shows how much knowledge we have gained over our years in life. This is how it goes: we are tested from when we turn one year old. They give us one question. Even if we get it wrong, they see it as the beginning of improvement. When you’re two years old, you get two questions. When you’re three, three questions. Four years, four questions. And so on. Our whole lives practically revolve around tests until we are eighteen. Unfortunately, I still have five years to go. Today, I am officially a teenager. Imagine that? A test on your birthday.

I hate the Wise Men. They were the ones who technically run the place, after our previous mayor died. He hadn’t chosen an assistant; he was very egotistic and said he could do everything by himself. So the ancient Wise Men rose up and took charge. They think knowledge is the greatest power above anything else.  Which of course my dad thinks is ridiculous, but my mother thinks highly of the Wise Men. She practically worships them. My mother walks back in and places her hands on my shoulders ever so gently. It makes me shiver.

   “ Remember, good scores equals a good life,” she says while tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I try to smile the best I can so she can leave me alone. She does and goes to tell my father to hurry it up, which, surprisingly enough, involves shouting at him through the bathroom door. I dig my heel into the floor. It’s squishy from the rain that has seeped into it from the hole in the roof. I might as well go wait outside until they come. I don’t like to be trapped in small spaces for long. That’s why I’m usually outside all the time with Felix…

   “ Don’t let me fall daddy!” I screamed.

   “ Don’t worry strawberry, I got ya,” he said reassuringly. It was a sunny day and our apple tree had ripe fruits on it, ready to pick and be made into pies and jams and other wonderful things. I stood on the tallest step of the wooden ladder, basket filled to the brim with delicious apples. I didn’t want to walk down in case I slipped and fell and broke my head open. I was very cautious when I was six. I looked behind but only for a second. Underneath me was my dad, arms outstretched, ready for anything.

   “ I promise I won’t let you fall. Just lean back and let go,” he said. At that age I never trusted anyone as much as I trusted my dad. I took a deep breath.

   “ Okay daddy, on three,” I said, my voice shaking like a leaf.

   “ One…” he began.

I let my fingers loose.

   “ Two…”

I let go entirely. I was falling through the air while the world spun all around me. I thought I hit the ground; my eyes were still tightly shut. Then I hear a voice and I knew had I landed safely in his arms.

   “ I thought we agreed on three?” He asked. “ Be glad that I have quick reflexes.”

I just hugged him, happy that he would always look out for me. We did many other things, too. We would go fishing in the nearby lake, climb up and down trees, go picking for wild berries. Those were the good times.

I kick a pebble and send it shooting down the gravel path. A clang follows as it hits the metal train tracks. I go over to retrieve it, when a train whizzes past me just missing my nose by a few centimeters. The wind it makes is extremely strong and messes up my hair. Mother won’t be pleased. The train slowly crawls to a halt, making an earsplitting screech in the process. It’s the train that takes us to City Center. I run back inside and I trip as I come through the door, dirtying my snowy stockings on my knees. My mum, obviously hearing the loud crash, comes running to me.

   “ Goodness sakes Rani, what have you done to yourself?” She shrieks and gets me off my hands and knees. She starts to dust me off just as my father walks in in a black shirt and matching boots. She sighs as soon as she sees him.

   “ Is that all you could pull together?” She says in a frustrated tone. He just keeps silent and reaches for my hand, which I instinctively give to him.

   “ The train is here,” I say. Mother is fussing about my hair and clothes. Father is standing there, still as a statue, mumbling. And me? I’m just in the mix of things.

[marymountparisauthors]

My Summer Adventure in a Movie

Over the summer one of our students, Amelie, got a part in a movie (For real!), Madame, which is set to release in September 2017.  Shortly after finishing her real life Hollywood experience, Amelie wrote the journal piece below recounting the whole thing.

By Amelie, Grade 5

I'm Amelie, and I love to act and sing. An unexpected dream came true this summer! It happened when there was a casting call that was given to the school office for a part of an 8 year old girl named Rose Fredericks and her brother Sean Fredericks. The title of the movie is Madame. I said I wanted to try out so I told my mom and she called the casting person and made me an appointment.

I was really nervous! I went into a room with the casting director she gave me a piece of paper from the movie script with Rose’s part on it.  Before I started she told me what the movie was about. It takes place in France, with a rich American family who moved there. It is like a modern Cinderella. There is a dinner table with 13 people and the "Madame" of the house asked the maid, Maria, to be the 14th person. There's more, but if you want to know you have to watch the movie!

After she told me what it was about, I did the lines and acted out the part and was done. The lady said I did a very good job and told me that a lot of other girls tried out. I left feeling excited and nervous. I was Nervoucited! The next week my mom got a call  saying that I got the part!!!! I was so happy, I was jumping up and down screaming!!! She told me that I would be shooting during the month of August, even on my birthday, the 25th!!! But the bad news was that we would have only 2 weeks in the U.S. at my favorite beach place. I was pretty upset but then it went quickly and before I knew it it was my first day of shooting!

Shooting the Movie

The first day for me was a little scary. First I met the boy who plays my brother in the movie, James. We got picked up by a chauffeur to drive us to the set. When we got there, I was amazed. There were the stars trailers, costume trailers, the set which is a big mansion, it was amazing! The 2nd A.D (assistant director) came and introduced her self as all the other A.D’s. I learned there are lot of the assistant directors and producers in movies. Then the Production Manager introduced himself and finally the Director Amanda Sthers who also wrote the screenplay came and welcomed me. They were all very nice. After we got dressed, we went to the makeup trailer then the exciting thing happened, we met the Hollywood ⭐️'s!!! As I was walking up to the costume/wardrobe trailer Toni Collette said, “Oh are you my kid? I am your mum!” Later Harvey Keitel introduced himself as we were walking to the set. He was so nice and reminded me of a sweet grandpa. I also met Rossy De Palma, a very famous Spanish actress and model. I love her style! Michael Smiley, the nicest Irish actor ever! and Tom Hughes were also there and introduced themselves. They are all so nice and very cool! Mrs.Collette plays my mom, Anne Fredericks, Mr. Keitel is my dad, Bob Fredericks, Ms. Rossy is our maid, Maria. Mr. Hughes is our Step-brother, Steven Fredericks and Mr. Smiley, David Reville, falls in love with Maria. 

Our first scene was when we were asleep and "Anne" comes and kisses us and lays down beside me. There were so many cameras and props. But what I loved was the part when the guy would have the clap-board and would say the plans and which camera and clap it and then the 1st A.D, Thomas, would say: "ACTION!" And then it would start. The whole set goes so quiet you could hear a mouse! We would have to do a couple of takes to get it right and when the Director liked it, Thomas would say,  “Check The Gate" then we would do the next scene, same thing. I also had to do a scene in a car with a green screen which was really hot inside but still fun. I talked with Mr. Keitel, Mrs. Collette and Mr. Hughes while we were waiting for the camera’s to be set up. We talked about their kids and our schools. When we were done, we would go home with a chauffeur.

But I was always excited to get home because the day before a shooting day,  my mom and dad would get a "Call Sheet" that would call you to the set. It would say what scenes your in and who would be there. I loved looking at who would be there. The next week we had to go to and stay in a castle hotel. All my family was with me for two nights and we had so much fun shooting there and then going to the crew parties. I got to stay up late and dance. We also had to do a some scenes in a pool there and it was really fun! I learned very quickly that to film a 30 sec part of a film it takes at least three hours!!! There is a lot of waiting in between takes and to get it right. I did not like all the waiting. It’s a good thing I love to read because I read A LOT while I was waiting to do another take with my lines.

The last week was my least favorite week because the shooting was coming to an end and I felt sad and it was so hot! It was also my birthday week so on my Birthday they made a cake and sang me Happy Birthday on set! I never thought on my 10th birthday I would be on a movie set having a movie director, a big star and crew sing me happy birthday. I started to cry because I was so surprised and it was so nice. I will never forget my 10th birthday! Last week was the final crew party on the Quai by the Louvre and I got to wear a new pretty dress and everyone said their final farewell and were celebrating the end of filming. I might have to do some post production things like speak over the filming until the end of the year but no more actual shooting. I am done.  Now I can’t wait to get the release date and find out where the premiere will be. I’m very excited to see the complete film and which takes they use after all that work!

[marymountparisauthors]

★ Big Nightmare on B-Day★

by Tara Grade: 6 Nationality: Turkish

“Beep beep beep beep” There was a horrible sound that was trying  to wake me up from my beauty sleep. It continued for almost 10 minutes! I was so angry like a bull that saw a red cape. I was going to shout but then  Mr. Silence came and took all the noise to his “silence bag.”

I was going to sleep again BUT  a voice interrupted my dreams. It was like it took away all my dreams! The voice was saying:

-Hey, hey Tara wake up! Hey guys wake up, it is time to go!

I answered sleepily

-What? Where are we going?

-Didn’t you get ready? I was shouting to you guys for hours!

-Umm… Did you?  I’ve just heard the alarm, I guess.

-Stop asking questions and dress up. We’re going to Izmir.

I realized something that was so important. I hopped out of my bed and screamed “It’s my birthday, I can’t believe!! But wait a second… We’re going to Izmir (It’s a place where we spend our summers) which means I will spend my birthday in the car!” I was so disappointed. I started to complain “Why, why me?!”But my mum and dad said “Well there’s nothing to do young lady, at least you’ll see your cousins and your grandparents!”

So we packed up and put our suitcases to the cars. You know how they sing a “trip song”in the cartoons? Well, we don’t do that in our family. I think nobody does that at all :P. I was so bored, like SERIOUSLY bored. Our “journey” was approximately four hours. My birthday should have been a day that I could have fun. Everyone should have played, sang a birthday song, decorated the place with  balloons! But I was not doing any of that. It wasn’t fair!You may think that I’m a crybaby but try to think that your birthday is ruined because of something silly. You can’t think because it’s a NIGHTMARE! Let’s continue to our story…

We arrived at a place that I always love to go. The place is kind of like a mall, a mall that has some shops on the outside but also on the inside too. I love that place because it has Mcdonald's, Starbucks, and  cool  places like that. We ate something and we continued our journey. I was no longer angry because I ate something and eating something (If it’s good) makes me happy! There were only 2 hours left and I was excited to see my cousins. I read a book but it wasn’t a good idea because I had nausea. When we finally arrived at Izmir I was ecstatic! First we went to my cousin’s house since their house is not far from our house.

When we knocked at their door I realized that it was so late that I started to feel  bad. But when they opened the door everybody was there and nobody was sleeping, they were waiting for us! They all said “Happy birthday” to me and they showed me the birthday cake. I was so happy that I could fly! I actually don’t like eating desserts or birthday cakes but they made the cake for me and it was looking fine so I ate it. We had a lot of fun and we played together until it was midnight. What I learned was life is not about “complaining”, life can surprise you.  My mum and dad then said it was time to go. I was really sad like someone dropped my ice cream. But I didn’t want to give my family a hard time so I listened to my family and we went to our home…

[marymountparisauthors]

Breaking Free

by Saachi Grade: 6 Nationality: Indian

One step at a time, I carefully made my way to the empty seat at the back of the boat, which bobbed quietly as if nodding a warm fáilte to its passengers. The sun bounced off the vivid blue of the ocean causing the most intricate reflections in the Atlantic waters. Wings curved delicately as birds traced the sky above me. Expectations and doubts flashed through my mind. I was about to see the world-famous Skelligs - but would I also see the beauty in a couple of rocks out in the ocean?

From the corner of my eye, I saw a fishing net lying at my feet. My thoughts jumped to a burden weighing on my mind. There was only a week left before school began again after the summer holidays. That meant only a week left till I had to hand in my form signing up for volleyball. I did not want to be tied down to wasting four hours of my time every week on something that I was awful at. I was afraid that I would embarrass myself with with my lack of skill. I would fail, and I would bring my team down. But, my parents thought it would be ‘good and healthy for me’. Even though I wanted to be free to follow my own path, I knew that I was on my way to becoming part of a sports team - but would I ever see the point in just throwing a ball back and forth over a net?

           “Ha, it’s mine! I got here first!” my sister announced with a cheeky grin. I was in such deep thought that I had forgotten to sit down and claim the seat for myself on the boat.

“Never mind. I prefer standing, anyway,” I retorted. “It gives me a better view.”

“Girls, mind your belongings and especially your phones - you don’t want them to go overboard,” warned our parents as usual.

Peering over the edge of the boat, I was thrown back when it suddenly lurched into motion. The chatter of people around me disappeared as I concentrated on getting back up to look down at the intimidating vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. Each time the seawater slapped my face, I licked my lips and cringed at the taste of salt.

“Apologies for the rough ride, ladies and gentlemen. If anyone wants to avoid getting wet, go ahead and use these plastic sheets as protection,” the boatman informed us from his cabin. Neither my sister nor I took him up on his offer. We both loved getting ourselves wet.

More and more birds came into sight as we sailed further away from land. I jumped as one landed on the edge of the boat, a few inches away from my hand. It was so close, I could hear it flap the water off its wings. Just as I reached for my phone, the bird took off, soaring high into the sky, disappearing from my sight. Determined to capture a picture of a bird in flight, I unlocked my phone to access its camera. I held it steadily to the sky, waiting for the perfect moment.

“Give me your phone. Mine has run out of memory,” ordered my sister. Ignoring her, I continued my wait for the perfect picture,

The boat swayed roughly as the wind blew hard, making me stumble and grab for the rail with my free hand. In the other, I clutched my phone - it held precious memories of all the wonders I had seen and experienced on our Irish summer holiday.

All of us twelve passengers were pushed back into our seats as the boat suddenly came to a stop to give us a steadier view of the smaller of the two impressive Skelligs. Graceful, white birds completely concealed the Little Skellig, a gigantic rock in the middle of the ocean, with the larger Skellig Michael towering as its neighbor.

The sun shone, causing the ocean to glimmer as if a million stars had been thrown into it in broad daylight. I clicked and clicked as many photographs as I possibly could, almost exhausting the limited space in my phone, still knowing that none of them would capture the real beauty of the natural marvels which we are getting to see less and less of. I would have to rely on my own memory to keep this beauty close to me.

I looked up in awe at the rock we call Little Skellig, looming over me. I felt tiny inside, like a baby, overwhelmed by the magnificence of just a plain rock! Now the boat rocked left and right gently like a crib but it did not comfort me. A sensation that I had never felt before enveloped me. Somehow, knowing that the world was so big and unknown scared me. Every corner I turned, something out of the ordinary could happen. Maybe even on a volleyball court… I could somehow score a point for my team. Or more likely, I could get knocked in the head while I daydreamt.

“The Little Skellig is home to over 70,000 Gannet birds. These entrancing creatures strike the water to get fish much deeper than several other airborne birds,” the boatman’s matter-of-fact words startled me out of my reverie. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more shocked, I found I was surrounded by thousands of just one species! I felt a slight connection to these birds - they were free, creating their own paths in the sky, like I wanted to in my own life.

I squinted my eyes to focus on a few of the countless Gannets sitting on the Little Skellig. The tips of their wings were black and the rest of their bodies white, except for their heads which were a light shade of fire yellow. I still had not captured any of them in flight. I was determined to.

The boatman informed us that the rock was untouched by humans, unlike its partner. At this, we set off to see it, the famous Skellig Michael.

As this much bigger rock came into view, I noticed only a few birds flying around. I knew from a video I had seen at the visitor center, that many human feet had set foot on this island. Devoted monks, plundering Vikings, curious tourists, and even Luke Skywalker had all experienced the Skellig Michael in their own way. Thinking about the monks, I marveled at their determination to create a home on a rock, in the middle of the ocean, just to be closer to God. Questions flooded my mind and an urge for answers overcame me. Why did the monks choose to make a commitment to the unknown? How did they survive the harshness of natural forces and initiate a monastery on such a rough terrain? What happened to the monks’ spirit when the Vikings came and slashed their peace and prayers? More water splashed my face as the boatman swerved to take us back. This time I licked my lips and savored the salt, grateful for the opportunity to get a taste of the Atlantic.

On the way to the Skellig Islands, I had been physically shaken around by the choppy sea. Now, my thoughts and emotions pitched and tossed my mind and heart. It was easier to find answers to factual questions, but mine were left lurching in the air.  Did the Gannet birds hold any clues deep within them?

As we returned ashore, all I could think about was this - one island was nature’s mark, while the other was man’s footprint of faith.

That evening at the hotel, as I lingered over the day’s experiences through my photographs, a sudden sadness washed over me. It occurred that I never did get my perfect photo. Or maybe I did...

Epilogue

One step at a time, I gingerly made my way down to the school gymnasium, which stood as if ushering directions encouragingly to its players. It had been one week since we came back from Ireland and school had finally begun. My hand trembled as I pulled the door open and placed my belongings on a bench. Balls bounced off the geometrical patterns on the court. How long could I stand by the trolley of volleyballs not playing, without appearing silly? I was here to practice, after all. Looking around, I spotted my sister hitting the ball against the wall - I made my way to an isolated spot and copied her. Two hours stretched long ahead of me and the volleyball season even longer.

A few practices later, I stood in bafflement once again. However, this time, I also rejoiced silently! Had I really scored a point for my team? A crystal-clear image of the two Skelligs and a Gannet bird in flight flashed before me, even without a camera. This was my perfect photo I realized, as I recalled my thoughts from my recent visit. In retrospect, I saw that each rock really complemented the other. The freedom of the birds sitting on one highlighted the commitment of the monks who had once inhabited the other. So also, I realized now, that I could make a commitment because I had freedom, and that I would now enjoy my freedom even more because I had made a commitment. I was on my way to discovering new passions and perspectives, even while just throwing a ball back and forth over a net. I had broken free from at least some of my fears.

[marymountparisauthors]

To Sacrifice First Place

by Rafael Grade: 6 Nationality: Canadian

I reached into my green duffle bag hoping to find my beige and army green waterproof rain pants but instead found my camouflage rain jacket and put it on deciding it would also help. I then reached into the cluttered bag again and pulled the pants out after a little bit of digging.

           “Hayden are you going to come, or are you too sick still?” My councillor called up to the second level of the small log cabin that only covered half the cabin and looked over the rest of it.

           “I’ll go.” he answered “I’m preparing right now.’’ Haiden answered.

           “Ikaika let me pack.” I heard Coll complain as I continued preparing. I hooked my water bottle onto my belt loop with a carabiner and grabbed my hat from on top of the heater.

           “I’m ready.” I announced.

           “Me too.” Called down Coll.

           “And me.” Jeffry and Ben said at once.

           “I’ll be just a minute.” Ikaika said.

           “We have got time.” Our councillor reassured us.

           I looked over at Ben, my best friend “You forgot your water bottle.” I told him seeing that his water bottle was still on the shelf across the room.

           “Thanks.” he said and got his water bottle.

           I went through the rules as the rest of the teams/cabins arrived to distract myself from my nervousness. The rules were: no scaring the horses, if you were within a meter of a horse rider you’re caught, you have to go to the other side of the camp area and retrieve something (they didn’t mention what) and make it back to the start and you have two minutes of safety at the start.

           “I think we should go along the main road for a little bit because we can run faster on it when they can’t go after us yet and after a minute and thirty seconds we should go  into the forest on the left so we have time to find cover before it starts and I think I’ll tell you what we’ll do next once we find safety” Our councillor explained.

           “Okay,” everyone in our cabin agreed.

           “Good we have a plan then.. Lets move closer to the front to get a head start, the more distance we cover on the road the better.” He said.

           We pushed to the front as the archery instructor started counting down “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Go!” He opened the gate and everyone with their cabin charged out like a jug of water with a big hole in it with most of the teams running into the not very dense canadian forest filled with birch and maple trees while the rest followed the road like us.

           “Rafael and Ben you take the back with Hayden because he’s a little sick as you know.” My councillor instructed.

           “Hi.” Hayden said. His thick short cardboard coloured hair and wild mischievous grin on his mouth that is a random number generator always saying relevant things made look like a supervillain from a movie.

           After what was one minute thirty seconds of running along the road we turned left into the forest thanking our pants for the fact the thistles weren’t poking us.

About a hundred meters of running we continued in our original direction except also a little to the left as well. “Wait.” Hayden said quietly we all stopped. “Over there.” He pointed to the left and sure enough about thirty meters to the left past a bush and on the other side of a cluster of trees was a rider.

“Get down.” Jeffrey said everyone dropped down. “Let's crawl over to that tall grass and run.”

“Okay,” everyone agreed after looking for another escape.

           We all commando crawled over to tall grass and ran in hope the rider wouldn’t notice. We swam through the five foot grass bending down low and moving as fast and as quiet as possible. I looked back and heard fast footsteps, a horse running and screams. Everyone in my group dropped  in fear and remain still and quiet.

Coll moved his hair from in front of his eyes “They’re chasing another team we should just crawl the rest of the way out of this grass, it is only twenty meters.”

We crawled the rest of the way taking the pain of thistles brushing our faces. As we emerged from the grass we looked around carefully before standing and saw no rider but we did see a stream just past the small clump of trees we were in and a field beyond the steam “We need to get to the other side of the field to get the pieces.” Our monitor announced “But we should probably follow the forest next to the field for more cover.”

One hundred meters to the left we crossed the stream, the freezing glacier fed stream’s water soaked through our shoes and socks providing an uncomfortable experience as we walked through the thirty centimeter deep water.

After we made the long quiet eight hundred meter walk to the other side of the forest we looked over to the right and saw a red hoop with ripped up pieces of paper and you could see the look of relief and joy on my team members faces Let’s go. We forget about being subtle and dashed for the hoop “We can only take one piece my counselor said once we got there so we grabbed one and ran back to the forest leaping over logs and rocks.

When we got back into the forest we were sweaty and panting “We made it.” I said. We continued back slower than when we came at first because we were tired and at this point starving we ate raspberries when we saw them and eventually met up with a team, that made it to the hoop first, a little over halfway back to the stream but they were tired and stopped. My counselor asked theirs “Do you want us to by you some time we can watch and distract them if they come.”

“Yes.” They answered.

“Come on they’re younger then us.” Our counselor said when we groaned not wanting to help their team because we wanted to make it back and not take the risk of helping them.

“Fine.” We decided. We spread out each fifteen meters from the other group and ten meters away from each other to see if any riders were in the area we were also lucky that they were resting next to the fence which was a boundary.

We watched so they could rest for ten minutes and while we were doing this we saw a peregrine falcon sitting in a regal position on a birch tree. I also saw a large nest in the spruce tree next to it which I assumed was the falcon’s. The large bird appeared to also have a small brown bird probably a sparrow hanging dead in the falcon's talons. But we saw no riders except for one chasing another group by the stream  in the distance but the rider didn’t notice us.

We came back to the start in second because we helped the other team but it is worth it to help someone because sometimes the big group is more important than the one person. It was also worth it to see a two meter wide paper mache death star covered in lighter fluid burn up because everyone made it back with their pieces without getting captured.

[marymountparisauthors]

Winter Wonderland

by Kiley Grade: 6 Nationality: American

The best gift around the Christmas tree is the presence of a happy family, and I was waiting for my family.

           I stood in the kitchen watching an evergreen scented candle burn. I exhaled deeply so the flame danced in the air. A holiday aroma filled the air.

           “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” I faintly heard from the living room. “Only if it would snow,” I sighed.

           “Kiley, could you set the table?” asked my Mother from the other side of the kitchen.

“Sure, um, could you please get me…” I quickly counted how many people would be here, “five big plates, and five small plates please.”

She nodded and quickly grabbed the plates and carefully handed them to me aware that I could drop them.  I shuffled to the table in the dining room and lovingly set a plate at each spot.

“Mom,” I called.

“What?” she peeked her head out of the kitchen.

“Should I make table tents?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she responded with a grin.

I slid past her fastly and to the other side of the kitchen, swung open a drawer and grabbed a couple pieces of cardstock and a sharpie.

After finishing most of the tents I peered outside to see a white Acadia pull into the frost layered driveway.

I rushed to the door and snatched my coat and slid on my boots. “Mom! Nana’s here!” And with that I ran, er, wait it was slippery so I cautiously walked toward her.

“HI Nana! Merry Christmas Eve! Lemme help you with that!” I exclaimed brightly.

“Oh Merry Christmas Eve sweetheart! Could you just grab the cooler and my bag from the car, i’ve got everything else. Thank you honey!” She said.

Once comfortably inside, my siblings rushed to give our grandma a hug.

“Hi Bon,” my Dad said hugging his mama.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see a smile spread across my mom’s face. “Hi Bonita!” How are you!”

“Merry Christmas Myrands!” my Aunt Shannon (Uncle Greggie and their girls too) exclaimed sneaking up behind Nana.

I hugged each one of them and lead them into the Christmas decorated living- room. I stared at the tree which stood strong and proud in the livingroom. Lights were scattered through the artificial branches. And ornaments were crowded in sections, but when Chelsea, my sister, helps decorate that's what happens, and sometimes we just deal with it.

After about a half-an-hour of catching up Nana suggested opening presents.

Everyone seemed to agree, especially Max, Chelsea, and my cousins, Ellison and Emme.

Nana handed each grandchild, including me a perfectly wrapped gift.

Chels and Ellison were ripped the Christmas wrapping off each of their boxes like they were ripping off a band-aid.

Each of us discovered a pair of pajamas.  Matching pajamas. I should’ve guessed since each year we get matching Christmas PJs.

“PJs!” Ellison and Chelsea screamed!

“PJs!” Emme said after just so she could be like the other girls.

“Haha go put them on guys!” my mom and my aunt said.

We walked back in with our matching jams and sat in front of the tree for pictures.

After taking what seemed like thousands of photos, of EVERYONE smiling, Nana and gave her, her present.

“Alright Myrand’s here are your presents!” We handed each of them different sized presents.

           Emme and Ellison were overjoyed when they saw their new presents, they were squealing like little pigs when they got into their new sleeping bags.

           “Girls, what do you say, these are so cute!” Aunt Shannon laughed.

           “Thank you!” Emme said hugging me and waddled to my mom with her blanket trailing behind her like a shadow. And she leaned into my mom, so my mom could hug her for her.

           “Thanks Kiley!” Ellison said and hugged me and quickly rushed back to her sleeping bag.  They fit into them like a chihuahua on a king sized bed.

           “Time for your presents!” Aunt Shannon said excitedly.

           She placed bags in front of Max and Chelsea and placed a small box, no larger than a coaster, in front of me.

           “Kiley, I’m so excited for you to open your gift!” she told me, after whispering something into my mom’s ear, that made my mom equally excited for me to open it.

           I glanced down at the little box wrapped in a cute red and gold polka-dot paper.

           Once I ripped all of the paper on the box I saw a blue and white striped box border in orange. I opened the box and it revealed a teal bracelet with two silver charms, a K and an Eiffel Tower.

           I got overwhelmed by this gift, I truly loved it it really meant a lot. My heart warmed up like someone had just turned on the oven.

           “Dinner time!” my mom shouted to us when we finished opening presents.

           I sat down next to Emme, “Hi Emme! Can I have a corner?” I asked. (Corner of her blanket that she liked to rub on her face which made her go to bed easier.)

           “You so funny, Kiley, here you go!” Emme shouted through her passy and handed me a ‘dirty’ corner.

The adults started to bring food to the table which included ham, mashed potatoes, Nana’s famous cranberry relish, salad, and green beans.

And this is where my story ends.   Maybe you can tell that we had a pretty fun-filled holiday, but my favorite part wasn’t the presents or food, it was having a loving family to share this time of the year with because that’s what holidays are for.

[marymountparisauthors]

Disappointed

by Ellie Grade: 6 Nationality: American/German       

“Oh, I can’t wait, I can’t wait!” I say, my voice aglow with excitement.  “It seems like tomorrow will never come!”  Only one thought was in my head: the 3rd Grade States Fair!  All month, we had been studying a different state each, putting together information about the state, and then brainstormed a way to make a game related to his/her state for the Fair.  My state is Kansas, which meant I got to dress up like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.

            “I know that you can’t wait, honey, I know how it feels too, but it is a school night, I am your mother, and it is my job to get you to bed on time.”  Mama’s voice is a knife, slashing up my daydreams and returning me to Earth.

            “Fine, fine.”  I say.  I climbed the stairs, walked into the room I shared with my sister, and changed into my stripy pajamas.  After I had brushed my teeth and hair, before I climbed into bed, I brushed the Dorothy costume hanging on the end of my bed.  That night, I dreamt of the States Fair and nothing else.

            In the morning, I woke up and immediately noticed that something was wrong.  Where is the usual bustle downstairs?  I thought.  Why is the house so silent and empty?  I looked over to Stephanie’s bed to see if she was still there, but she was still sleeping like a log.  Whew, I thought.  At least somebody is still here.

            Then, I heard the sound of the kitchen door meowing open, then shut.  I heard the person, whoever it was, come silently to the stairs, and the person began plodding its way up them.  My heart began to race, until my mother’s familiar face poked itself around the doorframe.

            “Oh, Mama!  You scared me!”  I ran and jumped into her arms.  Immediately, a wave of questions engulfed me and Mama.  “Where were you?  Why did you go?  What happened?  Are you OK?  Where is Papa?  Is he OK?”

            “Whoa, whoa, not so many questions!”  She said, holding up her hands as if to stop the river of inquiries.  She laughed, but only for a second, and it seemed to be forced out.  Then her face changed.

            “What?”  I asked her.

            She didn’t say anything, but leant over me and kissed the sleeping Stephanie on the forehead, gently shaking her.  Stephanie moaned, groaned, and opened her eyes.

            “Morning, sweetie.”  Mama said, trying to ignore my last question until it was necessary.

            Stephanie saw the look on her face, and sat up quickly.

            “What ... happened?” Stephanie punctuated each word with a yawn.

            “You girls get dressed, and then I’ll explain.” She said.

            Stephanie looked at each other, and quickly started getting dressed.  I wasn’t even excited about wearing the Dorothy costume anymore.  I just wanted to know what was going on.

            Once we had gotten dressed, Mama said in a quiet voice, “Girls, Papa has broken his leg.”  She foresaw my question and said “He will not be able to come to the States Fair.  I won’t be able to come either.”

            I started crying.  “Why, why does he have to go and break his leg on the day of the States Fair?  Why, why?  That’s not fair!”

            “I know, I know, I’m sorry, honey.”  Mama said, patting my head, which was hidden in her shoulder.  “You’ll still have fun, right?”

            I nodded through my tears, trying to be brave.  “I was just really looking forward to you coming to the Fair!”

           “Anyway, how did he break his leg?”  Stephanie questioned, always the curious one.

            “Girls, you know the construction at the bottom of our street?  Well, last night it rained, and mud was splattered all over the sidewalk.  Papa slipped and fell, turned his foot in a full circle, and broke his ankle.”  Mama said, in a pained voice.

Later, during the States Fair, my game was one of the most popular but it definitely wasn’t the same without Mama and Papa.

            After school, Mama came to pick up Stephanie and I.  I waited until we had gotten to our.  Stephanie had finished talking, and I had eaten my snack, before Mama finally asked me, “How was the States Fair, Ellie?”

           That day, I learned to be fully independent, and not be too expectant.  Sometimes things don’t go your way, but life keeps on going, so don’t get too sad about it.

[marymountparisauthors]

Inspiring our Younger Students

By Payton M., 13 years old. German-American future Cardiothoracic surgeon 

This September we had our Room to Read event.  Room to Read is a charity that we support here are Marymount. They supply books to schools that can’t afford them and help with educating girls who wouldn’t be able to learn anywhere else. 

We had an event where middle school volunteers explained to younger students why they love to read, what turned them on to reading, what are some of their favorite books etc. The older students seemed to be more excited than the younger ones. Within ten minutes the room was abuzz with conversation, everyone was engaged and ready.

As the older students started to read, the younger students looked as if they were pulled into the story and were intrigued about why they had picked this book. The conversation gave them new ideas and new genres to choose from. They loved hearing from the older students and took their advice very seriously. Only when the bell went off to signal that it was time to change partners did their attention break.

As the afternoon wore on the excitement for a lifetime of reading grew.  Stay tuned for upcoming Room to Read events throughout the year.  

[marymountparisauthors]

Falcons Soccer Program

By Thereza M., Grade 7 Journalism Elective. Falcons Soccer and Volleyball team member since 6th Grade.

Here at Marymount, children are offered after school activities. The Falcons program allows students to choose which sports they want to do each semester. The program contains volleyball, soccer, basketball, track, and swimming. In the start of the semester there is soccer and volleyball. Then in the second semester there is swimming, basketball, soccer and track. The soccer program is part of the Falcons. In soccer the students can learn basic skills and they can compete with other schools around Paris. 

Kids love the idea of having after school activities. They can participate in these activities with their friends. It also allows them to have an opportunity to meeting new people. They will be in a healthier and a positive environment. This is offered for all the middle school students through sixth to eighth grade.

[marymountparisauthors]

Gentle Stream

By Joana, Grade 4, Portuguese

Life isn’t always a gentle stream, The current pulls you back and forth. Unexpected twists and turns, The rapids make you turn and toss, Sometimes it might be narrow, or too wide for the eye to see.

There may not always be passages Rocks block up the path, And if you go the wrong way, You might end up before of a waterfall. But Sometimes, the river is still and the birds chirp happily.

There may be storms, lightning, thunder, Wind pushes you back, but fight it. Sometimes you fall underwater, You need to find your way out, Then the clouds clear up, and the suns warms you up.

You may follow the river, into the sea, Where the waves are big as tsunamis, The creatures under you are aware, And watch you with a keen eye, But sometimes, the dolphins swim inches away from you.

Life isn’t always a gentle stream.

[marymountparisauthors]

90 Miles to Havana Blog

by Nirali, Grade 7, Indian

Hello everyone!

Below you will find a link to my blog that talks about the novel 90 Miles to Havana by Enrique Flores-Galbis. Here, you will learn some of Cuba's history, my thoughts, analysis and reflections on the novels.

This is my first blog. If you have any tips or questions, feel free to comment!

Thank you and enjoy!

Blog Address: http://mm90mileshavana.blogspot.fr/​

[marymountparisauthors]

YAFF Prize Winner: “The Masterpiece”

by Nirali, Grade 7, Indian

A crowd formed around the tall street artist who wore a long coat and a black top hat. He set up his easel, crunching the autumn leaves below, and glanced around for a volunteer to pose for a portrait. Indigo curtains of the night sky set the scene where the river mirrored the stars and tourists scanned the banks for an evening pastime. Cameras flashed as they captured the hustle and bustle on the cobbled paths and the painter spotted just the right lady to model for his next masterpiece. “Madam!” he called out to her, “Would you care to step out and allow me to paint an excellent portrait of you? I will do you justice, I promise.”

Dressed in a magenta velvet gown and aristocratic jewelry, the lady acquiesced to sit down and pose for the artist while her companion stood by to watch. Engaging his subject in conversation, the artist requested her to stare steadily at a strange symbol resembling a family crest, painted at the back of his easel, so that he could make the portrait as accurate as possible. Organizing his materials, he placed his first expert stroke across the pure whiteness of the canvas. Soon enough, he was done with an outline of the lady’s well-defined features.

Gazing at the symbol, the lady seemed still and enchanted as if the world had frozen around her and even when the painter approached her to adjust her ruby necklace, she did not stir. Her companion, in awe of the artwork taking shape, appeared proud of his lady’s elegant beauty that even the spectators admired. Wavy tendrils of hair appeared on the canvas as the portrait neared completion and the audience eagerly awaited the model’s reaction to the artist’s near perfect representation of her.

However, just as the painter was about to sign his name, a stocky figure emerged through the crowd, apparently attempting to catch the lady’s attention by flailing his hands in the air. Keen to get the intruder out of the way, the artist confronted him and quietly threatened, “Step back or face the consequences.” Loud protests arose from the spectators whose entertainment had been disrupted and they jostled amongst themselves to get a better view of the drama.

At the sound of the commotion, the lady jerked her head as if waking up from a deep sleep. Noticing this, the painter backed away to the easel and hurriedly wrapped up his tools. He whisked the portrait into the startled hands of the lady’s companion, ignoring the payment proffered to him. “No need, no need!” he muttered. On turning around to pick up his belongings, he found himself nose-to-nose with the intruder who brandished a pair of handcuffs. In desperation, the artist searched for an escape but curious passersby had blocked all paths. Before he knew it, his hands were held firmly behind his back, cold metal pressing against his skin.

The intruder hurled rapid-fire questions and orders, as he took off his overcoat to reveal a policeman’s uniform. Realizing that he had been overpowered, the prisoner capitulated and admitted his offence to the amazement of all who listened, especially the lady who had posed for him. Seemingly, she still wore her precious ruby necklace.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down. If you are curious to learn the reason for this turmoil, the answer is simple,” the policeman proclaimed. “Ma’am, the necklace you wear is fake,” he turned to address the lady, and held up a similar necklace he had snatched from the artist’s pocket. “These two necklaces appear identical. However, there is an imperceptible nuance. I have the original that belongs to you. Look, it has a pair of initials engraved at the back of its pendant, unlike its counterfeit,” he clarified, as the onlookers gasped.

Returning the lady’s necklace to her, the policeman continued, “This man has committed yet another scheming burglary right under our noses. Very few know that in addition to being a skilled artist, he is also a master of hypnotism and sleight of hand, skills he misuses to hoodwink his victims.”

“Well, that explains why I remained oblivious when he swapped the two necklaces!” declared the lady in disgust. She handed the fake one to her partner and clutched on to hers carefully. “To give the devil his due, we must admire the craftiness and skill with which he executed his masterpiece, both in crime and in art.”

The spectators nodded and gradually dispersed into the night, murmuring their thoughts about what had just transpired. The policeman herded the culprit away, brushing past the couple who now stood in deep conversation.

“What is the matter? Why do you still look perplexed? All’s well that ends well, isn’t it?” demanded the lady of her companion who stared by turns at the portrait in one hand and the necklace in the other.

           “Read this,” the gentleman ordered, pointing to a scribbled note attached to the back of the canvas and inscribed with a symbol now familiar.

           “You hold this letter because I have been caught,” the lady read aloud. “Please forgive me. I am not a thief. All I wanted was to restore the priceless family heirloom that your ancestors stole from mine many decades ago. I traced its journey to you over several generations by laboriously analyzing portraits and photographs. Since I did not have the riches to buy back the ruby necklace, I contrived a plot to slip it away from you. This was my way of ensuring that justice was done.”

           “Why didn’t he engrave the initials on the duplicate, if he was so crafty?” wondered the lady’s companion.

           “Don’t you see? He could never have known what lay behind the pendant, as none of the paintings or photos revealed it!” deduced the lady, smiling. “Just one flaw betrayed him.”

She flipped her own necklace to caress the engraved initials on the pendant. Her smile faded. All she felt was a smooth, flawless, unetched surface.

[marymountparisauthors]

YAFF Prize Winner: “The Plank”

by Sophia, Grade 8

I stare down from the platform. Too late now for regrets. I flashback to this morning, when I had chosen to do this crazy and daring jump- just because everyone else was. Now, with twenty feet below me, a mat and a few poles keeping me from the ground, I wonder if it was such a good idea. Still, I can’t say I completely regret it. I mean, what a better chance of conquering my fear of heights? I look in front of me, and count how many people before me. Still three more jumps before mine. I was so bored. I decided to make this a daydream, as I do to most of my disliked subjects. I’ll pretend I’m a pirate. Yes, a pirate on her boat, and I’ll give all the others names. They will all be part of the crew, each with a different story. And with that in mind, I started rolling the film.

This jump is twenty feet high. I imagine the salt water on my hair, waves thundering beneath me; rocking my ship like a cradle. A disturbing, ear-piercing noise snaps me back to reality. I realize it’s the whistle, indicating for the next jumper to go. I try to see who it is. Most likely Courtney, judging by the red-hot curly hair and short chubby arms. I would call her Iceflame in my daydream, because of her flaming hair and icy heart. I pretend that she is walking the plank, her steps short and quick. No emotion on her face, ready for the waves to catch her. The boat jumps as she throws herself into the air, greeted by cheers of the other dead souls. Only 2 jumps left, and then I’ll join them.

Now it’s Carla Kaelper’s turn. She dyes her hair a shade lighter than her natural light brown. I have to admit, we are kind of alike. We’re the only blue-eyed girls in the grade, with broad shoulders and full lips. Though her ankles are thicker than mine, and my eyes are much smaller then hers. But we’re like black and white on the inside. She’s never afraid to challenge anyone, while I always doubt everything. While I try to never ask for anything, she will go around the whole school trying to find someone to fulfill her need. She will be Wavecrasher from now on. And as she walks up the plank, the waves are crashing beneath her. She is thrown into the air, never to be seen again. Only 1 jumps left.

Next up is Andrew. Tan skin, dirty brown hair, impeccably white teeth -the guy goes to the dentist at least every week! With piercing brown eyes, always a glint of amusement in them, you could say he was handsome. The first time I approached him hoping to make a good impression, I tripped over a bicycle, barely catching myself, and immediately ran away- after getting a good glimpse of his face. I was expecting him to be funny and open, though he proved to be the opposite. A sensation of darkness invaded those cunning eyes, and his smile had vanished as soon as he’s seen me approaching. The kind of I’m so nice and approachable kid who actually turns out to be the not popular=not friend thinker. So I decide that his name should be Goldenspear. Because though the gold might be beautiful, the purpose of the object itself isn’t that pleasant. He is willing to go on the plank though. Taking two long steps and giving one last long glance to his ship, he jumps off, flying into the chilly night air. And now, it’s my turn.

It’s frustrating hearing everyone talk like “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, it’s up to you, your choice” because nowadays the only choices I get are the total dork choice and the slim chance of actually succeeding in life choice. I have to keep growing my I’m carefree, perfectly confident and in perfect shape profile. Because guess what, I’m a city girl and there’s nothing that can change that. I grew up trying to fit in every way. It’s innerving when people say “let your inner self shine through” or things like “love me for what I am, not who you want me to be”. Because guess what people, if I stand by those quotes I will end up living in a hole and taking Jailee Unberthon’s place. And there is no place beneath that on the popularity scale. So deal with it. And if you can’t deal with that, get a life.

I know I have a bitter fear of heights, though I have to overcome it. I’m the last one, and it now seems like terrifying idea to go last. I suddenly feel my stomach churn, though I push it down. I wait for the familiar sensation of the cool wind, and when it comes, I leave my ship, leaping off the plank.

I expect to immediately hit. I didn’t expect to be able to keep my eyes open either. Though I did, and saw that I wasn’t about to immediately land. The sight was breathtaking. I could see the hidden part of the net covered by the platform on which I had been waiting, and it was a thousand times scarier. I hurtle through the sky, my stomach slightly churning, adrenaline rising. The wind was howling, waves thrashing, lightning striking. And then, out of nowhere, I hit the tempest.

Cheers explode. I bounce off the net, and I feel my legs touching gravity again. It’s amazing. I feel my head swooning, and I want to do it again. And again. Because for once in my life, I can choose something that I like-without having to worry if other people like it too - because I do.

[marymountparisauthors]

YAFF Prize Winner: “Black and White”

By Matteo, Grade 8

I lunged towards Dawn. I slid across the shallow water platform, and grabbed her arm. I dragged her off the edge of the shallow platform all the way towards the bottom of the pool, drowning her. Some say I am a monster, some say I am insane. But I am not; if people would learn, they would understand.

I can remember my mother and my family roaming across the Icelandic waters. My mother was very gentle, she took care of my siblings and me day and night, all year long. I felt as if we were never going to be torn apart, not even in our wildest dreams. But yet it happened. The kidnappers began screaming, blowing air horns and yelling at us in an attempt to herd us into a small space. They threw nets at us and began grabbing at our necks and carried us away. Our parents began calling at us and we tried to respond, but the more we called, the more we where beaten. The criminals then carried us away from our loving mothers and fathers. We would never see them again.

All of my siblings where separated and brought to separate places. I was brought to Sealand of the Pacific. Almost immediately we where forced to do things by an instructor. I was eager to learn. Day after day, I learned new tricks and had to perform to a small crowd. At night, I slept in a place called a module; which was basically a metal shack, because Sealands owners were worried that someone would break the nets of our “showroom” and steal us. In the module I was kept with two other individuals, Haida II and Nootka IV. I was named Tilikum. Haida and Nootka where very mean, every time I came out I would be covered with cuts and bruises from spending a night in a metal box with two moody females. Day after day this would be the same, and I would spend a lot of my time in a dark metal box. Until one day.

She was working as a trainer that day when she slipped in with us. Haida and Nootka seized the opportunity and began attacking Keltie, then forced me to join. So I began grabbing her. Haida and Nootka circled around, not allowing Keltie to surface. She managed to hold on the side and screamed out a cry for help as the crowd watched in horror. Then Nootka finished it. She dragged her underwater and drowned her; this caused us to be sold. Now I am not sure where Haida and Nootka went, but I went to SeaWorld Orlando.

When I arrived at SeaWorld I was twice as large as the next member of Shamu Stadium. Despite my size I was viciously beat up by Katina and many others. In nature females are very dominant and the males will stay at the perimeter of the province. But here in our enslaved lives we are held in close quarters and the big males like me are much less mobile and agile that the smaller and energetic females. This lead to me being held alone a lot of the time, and I would just spend hours in a small cage. So I would just stay put. The times that I came out of my cage I was very frustrated, for the trainers would teach me tricks that I knew, and I was confused because if didn’t do it right I would get less food than normal, but this was what I was taught. I wasn’t always a killer. I became one for playing with a man.

It was a cold July night, and one of the visitors stayed in afterhours. That visitor somehow infiltrated all of security cameras, and decided to go into my habitat, and I began to play with him. But as the night grew cold he began to have hypothermia, and I kept on playing with him. I was blamed for his killing, and thus severely punished, which fueled me to attack again.

The show that day was a disaster; those whom where scheduled for that event were chasing each other and not cooperating with the trainers. So Dawn Brancheau felt pressured to do well in the upcoming Dining with Shamu session. At the beginning of the show I was with her, I was doing correct behaviors as soon as she asked for them, and responding really well to her commands. That is until the perimeter pect wave. I had to wave my pectoral limb to the audience, which I did perfectly, but I did not get rewarded. Orkid told me that I missed the signal to say I could stop to get food. There was another frustrating factor; Dawn was running out of food. The fish tasted soupy and clammy and I was being rewarded less and less for behaviors. It was too frustrating, I could not take it anymore, and so I lunged towards Dawn. I slid across the shallow water platform, and grabbed her arm. I dragged her off the edge of the shallow platform all the way towards the bottom of the pool. This was the final straw for Sea World.

I am no longer allowed to have any human contact. I am massaged with a power hose, and I am now only used as an artificial inseminator. I spend all of my time now in a small cage, lifelessly staying idle for hours. My dorsal fin has collapsed and my tail has curved, my teeth are injured, I am miserable. Sometimes I like to imagine my life in the wild, an old bull with a straight dorsal fin, and I imagine that all of my children are alive, instead of only half of them. I imagine my mother, all the way in Iceland, living with me and tending me. But I realize I am just a slave for public entertainment.

My name is Tilikum, and I am an Orca at SeaWorld.