The Fireball
By: Colin Clark
Colin Clark (memoir Fireball)
12 years old
Sixth Grade Orange Hunt
Teacher: Brenda Patrick
One time we were on vacation in a rental house in West Virginia. On one of the nights we had planned to have steak, corn and potatoes for dinner. We were all excited since we had been having fun and we all liked steak. I was also really excited because I liked grilling and was looking forward to making the steak with my dad.
While my dad and I were going to make the steak, my mom was going to cook the corn and potatoes. We liked grilling things and we had a charcoal grill at home. There was a gas grill on the back porch. My dad got the steak ready to cook by putting some spices on it. My two sisters were doing something in the house that didn’t involve dinner.
Once we were ready, my dad and I went out to the back porch and went over to turn on the grill so that we could cook the steaks. He turned the knob and pressed the igniter. Nothing happened. He tried it again. Still nothing happened.
“Why isn’t it working?” I asked.
“I Don’t know.” my dad said.
We were both confused as to why the grill wasn’t turning on. My dad made sure the gas valve was open. It was at that point
we didn’t know what to do, so we went back inside to try to figure out what was wrong and why it wouldn’t light.
After a little while, we decided that we were going to get a lighter from the kitchen and use it to light the grill that way like we did at home, except that the grill at home was a charcoal grill and not a gas grill. My dad went to the kitchen and after a minute he found the lighter and went outside to light the grill.
“I hope this works, I say” .
“Me too.” says my dad.
If it didn’t work we wouldn’t know what to do. We went back outside and moved over to the grill and we turned on the gas. My dad moved the lighter in position to light it. Then he lit the lighter and suddenly, a fireball erupted from the grill.… Later that evening we were eating dinner.
No one got hurt from the Fireball because it was small and had only lasted a second. The rest of the cooking had gone without incident and we had a nice dinner. The lesson I learned was to be patient, and persevere. Even if you don’t succeed the first time, try again.
The End
The Big Match
By Caroline Rakip
Caroline Rakip (memoir/The Big Match)
12 years old
Sixth grade Orange Hunt
Teacher: Brenda Patrick
FWEEEET!! The ref’s whistle rang in my ear like the school bell. My legs were shaking in the thought of losing. I heard whispers around me. “You got this!” , “Let’s go!”, “Serve it!”.
I looked over at my coaches who were signaling me to go. I looked over at the ref who was staring at me, basically telling me I only had ten seconds to serve the ball over the net. I looked straight ahead of me, just to see the other team staring me dead into the eye, their determination filling the room.
My heart sank. My throat burned. I felt my insides swell, and my vision started to blur. I wanted to sob. I wanted to run away and never return. The pressure was on me, me to carry this team to a win.
But I had to stay, so I threw the ball into the air and hit it. It went flying across the gym. I followed the ball with my eyes, it soaring through the wind. I watched as the other team swung their arms, trying to hit the ball, but missed! The ball fell to the ground, giving us a point.
My team clapped, and my coaches cheered.
“Just one more point!” My coach pushed.
“Just one more,” I mumbled under my breath. “Just one.”
The whistle was louder than the last. My heart beat in my chest, making it feel like a drum circle. I shut my eyes hoping it would end, and we won, all because of me. I knew that I would have to serve it in order for that to really happen, so I threw the volleyball up and served, better than ever. The adrenaline pounded in my head, making my blood boil. I stared down at the ball, praying it would hit the ground, leading to a win. Then there were the dreaded words, the words that made me feel sick, “OUT! OUT!” Someone on the other side yelled.
Oh no. I thought, Out of bounds, now how will we win?
The ball came swooshing down, as everyone leaned to the side, watching for the ball to be out. I held my breath, as if it would affect the movement of the ball.
I turned around just in time to miss the land. Just to hear my coach scream and cheer for joy.
“You did it!” She called. She was jumping up and down in excitement. My entire team came up to me and we all exchanged high-fives.
We won! I thought. I could not believe it. My team had never won any game, we were used to losing. My shoulders felt like a giant weight got lifted off. My happiness flooded through me, into my face, stretching a smile across my face. We had just earned our first win, and it was because of me.
I learned that day that no matter what, your team will always be there for you. Wins or loses, your peers care about you just as much as anyone else.
Wave
By Josephine Gibbs
Josephine Gibbs (Memoir/Wave)
11 years old
Sixth grade Orange Hunt ES
Teacher: Brenda Patrick
We walked down to the water with my brother Beau. I heard the waves crashing on the shore and laughter and giggles from the people.
“Let’s go see how big the waves are up close” Beau said. I felt excited as we put our toes in the water. I loved the water. A gentle breeze ruffled my hair. The water was extremely cold but I knew I would get used to it.
“Brrr it’s cold” I said
“I know,” Beau replied.
We took a moment to get used to the water. I jumped in it’s icy cold like I was jumping into a bucket of ice cream. “Ahhh” I yelped. “It is colder than I expected,” I said, as I headed towards Beau.
We turned around to see if we had drifted off too far. We saw Mama sitting in the tent. Suddenly we turned around and saw an enormous wave. It was as tall as a two story house, and it was all icy water that was headed towards us!
I tried to get out of the way but I couldn’t. The wave hit me with such force it knocked me over and I did somersaults under the water. I tried not to taste the salty water. I opened my eyes and saw brown murky water. It did not hurt my eyes because I had goggles on. Then I noticed I was running out of air. I frantically tried to get out of the water but the wave was too strong. It kept me
there like I was chained. All of a sudden the wave receded and I was on the beach. I quickly got out of the way for the next wave. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Then I remembered Beau. Where was he!? I looked around frantically then I saw him lying on the sand heaving. I quickly ran over. “Are you okay?” I asked as I helped him up. “Ya that was super scary”. “ I know”, I said.
We ran back to tell our mother.
The lesson I learned was to never underestimate the power of WATER!
Transported in Paint
At The Smithsonian
American Art Museum
By: Ella Esposito
(Field trip article/Journalism/The Smithsonian American Art Museum D.C.)
12 years old
Sixth grade Orange Hunt
Teacher: Brenda Patrick
The hum of the bus welcomed you for a ride. You made your way to the back of the bus and found your selected seat. For forty five minutes you bounced and balanced yourself on a cold vinyl cushion. You bobbled around chatting with your friends, your back rubbing on the used, remembered surface, while watching the highway pass and come again. Driving into Washington D.C. was exciting, colorful, and active. Each monument, restaurant and person you saw made you more excited for the upcoming event.
We arrived early so we walked around D.C. Christmas lights and decorations set the mood for a good experience. The smell of french fries, tiptoed to everyone’s nose as we walked by Five Guys. We took a quick snapshot to savor the moment and continue our adventure. Next we sauntered in the joyful ambience of China Town.
Pockets of drippy teens were taking up sidewalks and roads could be seen ablaze with red fire engines. Sirens followed us as we explored D.C. We made our path across the street one more time, to arrive back at the tall Ionic marble pillars, and a multitude
of steps. We peeked into the portal that took us back in time but only in disguise as a museum.
Finally we were invited into the building buzzing with excitement. When we entered it was fancy like a hotel, twisted stairs, and endless gift shops. Then we floated into a giant room with delicate glass ceilings, greenery, flowers, and an “in progress” stage. We met our tour guide, and began our journey in the building of wonders.
As we entered the first room we arrived at a piece of art. Our group viewed many paintings that were all so detailed. We gazed at a beautiful, heartfelt, touching, painting of sailors during the Revolutionary War. It was an amazing , eye-catching canvas of a landscape with few animals, which caught everyone’s eye. It pulled you in like a storybook. If you looked at it long enough you could be transported into the painting. Its gold frame made it like a fairytale photo. It was skyrocketing over most of the paintings down the hallway. You felt as if you were on the top of one of the mountains gazing down at the horizon.
Our group had the privilege to view about eight pieces of art and our tour was an hour long. At some points you had the opportunity to make up your own story about the art if the guide didn’t explain it for you.
The floors varied in different galleries, and so did the paint. The staging set the mood extremely well. Overall it was an entertaining experience. The docent told you how to stand and how to observe, so it clearly was not a free for all. Without our tour guide we wouldn’t have discovered as much as we did.
As we departed the portal of wonders we took in one last breeze of D.C. and the painted canvas. We left with amazing Art in our minds that we couldn’t see anywhere else.