**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

Through a frosted window I watch as snowdrops dance.
They flutter down so gracefully, but turn to water as they reach the ground.
The snow begins to coat the arms of barren trees, and slowly hides the tips of grasses.
The flowers are frozen until springs’ warm breath will raise them from their slumber.
Night has arrived, and I step outside to see that a heavy blanket of winter has fallen.
Walking down the charming streets, the only lights come from olden lamps, and strings of flickering reds and greens. The light shines on the snow making it twinkle in the darkness.
The world around me is still; Only silvery threads drift across the night skies.

—Allyson Moran

 

Seashell

I lift a seashell—the one that
twinkled and shone at me.
In a box with its comrades,
it stood alone. I saw only its color
the rainbow of color, begging to be freed.
I did not see its broken body.
I hold it in my hand. The iridescent color
reflects the light, a reminder of
a mermaid’s scales, or perhaps a dragon’s.
Broken and sharded, ribbed and scaled,
it is beauty—dead and gone.
The broken wing of a lovely bird,
she will never fly again.

—Romneya Quennell

 

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

 

A Winter’s Night

It was winter, almost Christmas as we rolled down the icy hill in our little blue car, gathering speed, and sliding into the guard rail. “Stay in the car!” said Daddy, as I attempted to dislodge myself from my seat belt. He exited through Mommy’s door, the side that had hit the guard rail. Fear seeped into me, clawing at my chest.

“How bad is it?” asked Mommy.

“It’s not that bad. The headlight’s out,” said Daddy. “Get out!”

We all scrambled to vacate the car as the dark grey SUV skidded into the other side of our little car. Then the apologizing started.

Next came the semi, skidding down the road. We all scrambled to get over the guard rail. “Hurry up!” yelled Daddy. We all made it over.

The semi smashed into both cars.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Police came and told us to ride in the back of the semi’s cab (which I later found out was illegal).

—Takoda Warner

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

The F-word

It was just another summer, threaded together by cold winters like beads on a string. There was this unmistakable magnetic force that controlled everyone but me. At the drop of a dime someone would suggest it, and everyone would scurry like rabbits after seeing a hawk’s shadow. In a few minutes we would march up, past the blackberry bushes, an ephemeral sight loaded with fruit for a span of a few weeks each year. The frogs would sometimes croak softly, and the trees would shake together, making an odd, natural sort of music. The pathway turned right, and then took a sharp left at a 30 degree angle. We would all file up, one by one, sinking our feet into the often muddy ground and dodging roots that threatened to ensnare our sometimes clumsy feet.

Then, as if on cue, they would jump into the pond. The murky water was shaded on one side by pine trees, dark and sometimes a deceiving yellow. Newts enjoyed hanging around the shore, along with bluegills. I would take up my net like a warrior and try to catch them, often to no avail. When I had tired of that and the cool, deep pool was calling to me, along with the girls, I would wade in, wearing a life jacket to prevent drowning.

I was fast, a strong swimmer, and would often race my companions across the pond, passing them each time. On this particular day I was an innocent, swimming around and living up to my reputation as a fish. Suddenly someone crept up, and I was surrounded.

“Do you know about the f-word?”

I looked curious, did they mean Fernando? “What are you talking about?”

They looked incredulous, apparently the “f-word” was a coming of age ceremony performed on unsuspecting 8 or 9 year olds. One of them leaned in, giggling fiercely, and tried to explain to me. It came out in little puffs, a mysterious jumble of syllables.

“I didn’t hear you.”

They looked embarrassed, but continued on their mission. By the time the day was fading I had been told a few thousand times what the “f-word” was, and I still wasn’t so sure.

—Rose Tolford Chandler

 

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

First Frost

When I first woke up, my head felt cold; I shiver in my short sleeve pajamas and I find myself moving faster when my bare feet touch the cold tile bathroom floor. My body is shocked by the crisp, cold air. When I see the frost on the window and outside on the grass my heart feels excited because winter is coming! I start thinking about all the things I can build when the snow falls thick and a little wet, just right for Snowmen, Snow forts etc. I start imagining the hot cups of cocoa and the cozy warm feeling inside after a long time of shoveling the driveway. I’m not afraid of the cold and I love winter. But this is just the very beginning, just the first frost. There is still time to enjoy fall; the colorful leaves, the raking of them, the smoky smell in the air, apples, cider, pumpkins, thanksgiving. There is a lot of good things about each season, and they’re all different with pros and cons, I learn to enjoy all the good things in each season and be thankful.

—Oz Tay

 

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

 

The Night

The blue of the sky and the hills through the fog drew my eyes past the crowded room, past the frame, and out the window into the evening light. The dark shapes of trees frozen in a desperate struggle blocked a clear view to the hill across the valley. Tiny lights twinkled there, the only sign of life through the fog. The top of the hill was distinguishable only by the change in color from it to the lighter sky.

Between me and the distant hills was an army of trees, their rain drenched leaves flopped limply from their branches giving the forest a sad, dreary look. A few dead trees scrambled at the others reaching for their life and young joy. But they, like the others, were frozen in a silent dance, unmoving until the wind came to playfully shove at them. When the trees held strong the wind would give a final exasperated push and move on.

—Emily Warner

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

A Tree Falls

[All names have been changed]

I get out of our recently parked car and tug at my black silk dress with the crimson sweet peas and flounced hem. I look around at the grasslands surrounding us, other cars parked along the already narrow driveway and more coming in by the minute, including a familiar silver van. A smile twitches my lips as I walk over. ‘‘Hey, Laura,’’ I say as she comes towards us in a black square-holed lace dress and her light brown-blond hair in two little buns, her siblings in front and parents trailing behind. Amy sees my sister Rosie, runs over, and they both disappear down the driveway to torment Jack, who doesn’t look like he thought about what to wear at all, and Sam, who at least put on a button-down shirt. Good.

More people are congregating now, and I see Bill, with sweatpants, a sweater, and a red, swollen nose and eyes, greeting everybody. He walks over, and says with a sad smile, ‘‘Thanks for coming.’’ Mama and Papa start talking, so Laura and I wander around the myriad of somber people in muck boots until we meet Jack, Sam, Mallory, Andy, and Nathan, who isn’t quite his cheerful self. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t be cheerful either. We talk and laugh a little, trying to take our minds off the sad occasion that brought us all here.

‘‘Coming through! Move to the sides, please!’’ A elderly woman gestures us over as a forest-green golf cart rattles over the rough stones of the driveway. It has an armful’s worth of greenery in the back, bouncing up and down as the cart disappears between the two long rows of people. After it passes, we all move to the middle of the road again. After this, there is a dearth of action. The people coming gradually thin out, but the talk continues.

‘‘Nathan, we’re ready for you.’’ We turn, and see his older brother Jim standing there. Nathan nods. Jim continues, ‘‘It’s time for you to, you know, show your strength,’’ vaguely pumping his biceps in the air and gesturing towards another green golf cart off to the side of the driveway in the grass. It carries on the back a pale, lemon colored coffin.

Talk ceases.

We all gather in a group, Nathan, Jim, Bill, and a few others gently lift it by means of straps tied to a railing, and the five death-bearers slowly go down the sloping, grassy path. As we walk behind them, several people bend down to pick little bouquets of wildflowers. Others hold stereotypical funerary flowers that they clutch  like the hair of a drowning man.

Laura and I walk together silently behind the swells of people, and silently take our places in the circle that has formed around the coffin, set on planks over a shallow grave. Someone has stood up a framed photograph on each end, which I can’t see from my angle of view. There is also a wreath in the center. The pall-bearers retreat into the crowd, and a silence falls upon everything. In the distant woods, a single bird gives a sweet, liquid trill.

Finally, Bill clears his throat and steps forward.  ‘‘I just want to thank everyone that came here today to celebrate Sandra’s life. She was my love and soul for many years…’’ He continues, but I don’t comprehend most of what he says, being wrapped in a thick blanket of sadness and confusion, struggling with my own thoughts. Sandra was a wonderful person, always smiling, always with a kind word. Why, then, did cancer have to take her away from her two boys, her husband, her family and friends? She held on to life so long, I hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would win the struggle. But now, we all are looking at her coffin, in a natural burial cemetery…

Bill’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “I would like to read the wedding vows I wrote for Sandra.” He begins, and the words we hear are full of love. Pain and grief are in his voice, choking him. As I look around through a mist of tears, I see that I’m not the only one touched. Many others are weeping. As he finishes, we are all emotional wrecks, and I see Nathan looking like he wants to cry, but has forgotten how.

When Bill asks if anyone has a memory of Sandra that they would like to share, there is a little pause before someone steps I. They reminiscence about their friendship per usual, but something that they say really strikes me. “…You know, if Sandra were here right now, she would look around and say, ‘All these people! Here? For me?!’’’

A dark-haired, younger woman with a red ribbon woven into her braid tells about when Sandra dressed up for Halloween as a rock star and they didn’t recognize her, eliciting from us a few chuckles. Others talk about how she did her very best to hold on until her boys were grown, about the time when she told a friend, “If I die, I want you to make sure that Nathan learns math…” Jim tells about the time when he squished a ladybug, and she grounded him for a day. So many memories flood in, so many examples of Sandra’s wonder and love. I am amazed by all the people that she touched and befriended.

A hush falls. A tree falls with it in the surrounding woods, breaking the spell. We all jump a little, and laugh.  Someone says that we should sing. One mentions that one of Sandra’s favorite songs was ‘What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor.’ Another suggests ‘I’ll Fly Away.’ The latter is quickly agreed upon, and we all let our voices swell together in harmony.

After we finish, we crowd around the casket, placing our bouquets of flowers on it, looking at and talking about the photographs. The coffin is lowered into the grave. I say goodbye to Laura, whisper a final farewell to Sandra. Numbly, we walk up the winding, grassy path to the road, leaving Sandra behind forever.

—Romneya Quennell

It’s a little known fact, but Teen Day participants are some of the foremost travel experts around. In fact, Teen Day is home to five different travel agencies, all ready to help you make your holiday travel dreams come true!

And where better then Ancient Egypt! Flip through our Ancient Egypt travel brochures below, and book your trip with one of our agents TODAY!

For reservations, contact agents Drew, Torin, and Oswald.

 

For reservations, contact agents Rose and Banyan.

 

For reservations, contact agents Takoda, Noah, and Kieran.

 

For reservations, contact agents Riley, Emily, and Henry.

 

For reservations, contact agents Romneya, Lexi, and Allyson.

A few weeks ago, the World History class read about King Hammurabi of Babylon and the well known Code of Hammurabi. (See this link for a synopsis of the Code.) In groups, Teen Day participants read some of the laws in the Code, and evaluated them—were they good laws? why were they made in the first place?

The Code of Hammurabi includes such gems as the (in)famous “an eye for an eye,” as well as less-known policies regulating when and for how long one can sell their children to cover a debt and an edict to kill the builder of a poorly constructed home.

In the end, we considered the question:

Did Hammurabi succeed in his stated goal “to cause justice to prevail in the land, to destroy the wicked and the evil, that the strong may not oppress the weak?”

Here are our answers:

If this question is referring to his laws, yes. Hammurabi seemed to understand what measures should be taken to prevent injustice, and wrote his laws accordingly (mostly).

– Romneya

 

Yes he did. Through his 282 codes, he brought a sense of fairness to the people, and order to society. And by trying to protect the people without much power, Hammurabi succeeded in fulfilling his second goal.

– Oswald

 

I do not think it worked perfectly, but I think it worked quite well for that time.

– Drew

 

Yes, Hammurabi did succeed in his stated goal “to cause justice to prevail in the land, to destroy the wicked and the evil, that the strong may not oppress the weak.” He did this by creating a set of laws called Hammurabi’s Code. Hammurabi’s Code helped people live together more peacefully, gave them some ordered society, and helped them view the world as a more stable, predictable place. Hammurabi’s Code was a step toward controlling violence, and was a sign of how far civilization was advancing.

– Lexi

 

Yes, he did! The eye for an eye law and other laws helped prevent people from being violent to each other, which stopped fights and wars between families, friends, and neighbors. With Hammurabi’s laws, a rich merchant could not take a poor man’s eye out without his own eye taken out. This law prevents bigger, richer, or stronger from oppressing the weak. Hammurabi’s law brought peace and justice to the land.

– Banyan

 

I believe that in a lot of ways this helped, however, in cases like slavery, just because of ethnicity, a person could be forced to do manual labor for years, possible a lifetime. I do believe that without the Code of Hammurabi, a lot more people would have been killed or injured for unjust reasons.

– Rose

 

Based on what I read in chapter 7, I believe that he did make it a much better place. His laws seemed to well reflect on the culture, although I doubt they would be used in present day.

– Noah

 

He was almost successful in that. But the strong still opposed the weak, because one of his codes says someone who can’t pay their debts becomes a slave for a significant amount of time.

– Riley

 

P.S. Thanks to Banyan for assisting with the photographing!

Teen Day Ithaca is THRILLED to introduce our newest instructor: Ryan Ashton! Ryan will be taking on the Electronics and Robotics class this year. Be sure to check out the course description for updated information as well as a look at Ryan’s pearly whites! You’ll have your chance to meet Ryan in person at the orientation on September 6.