Villa Voice 2019
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0 VILLAVOICE COPERTINA 17 aprile 2019.qxp_copertina villavoice 06/06/19 14:22 Pagina 1 American Overseas School of Rome Villa Voice 2019 Middle AMERICAN OVERSEAS School SCHOOL OF ROME Student Via Cassia 811 00189 Rome, Italy Writing Telephone +39 06 33 43 81 and Art Fax +39 06 33 26 26 08 E-mail [email protected] Website www.aosr.org 0,1 VILLA VOICE romane 6 giugno 2019.qxp_2018 06/06/19 13:53 Pagina I The Middle School Villa Voice 2018-2019 AMERICAN OVERSEAS SCHOOL OF ROME MIDDLE SCHOOL LITERARY AND ARTS MAGAZINE MIDDLE SCHOOL STUDENT WRITING AND ART EDITOR AND FACULTY ADVISOR MS. NANCY PICCIRILLI COVER ART FRONT AND BACK, LEA, GRADE 8 SPECIAL THANKS MIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHERS: MS. HOLLY DANA, MS. KAREN SCARFUTO, MS. MELISSA SLAVIN CONGRATULATIONS MIDDLE SCHOOL STUDENT WRITERS AND ARTISTS HEAD OF SCHOOL MR. MICHAEL CALLAN SECONDARY PRINCIPAL MR. JUSTIN WALSH MIDDLE SCHOOL COORDINATOR MS. SARAH ELLYSON TYPESETTING AND DESIGN AVANTPRINT, GABRIELLA FARINA, RANIERO FRAIEGARI AMERICAN OVERSEAS SCHOOL OF ROME VIA CASSIA, 811 ROME, ITALY 00189 TELEPHONE +39 06 33 43 81 FAX +39 06 33 26 26 08 EMAIL [email protected] WEBSITE WWW.AOSR.ORG I 0,1 VILLA VOICE romane 6 giugno 2019.qxp_2018 06/06/19 13:53 Pagina III Table of Contents Narratives 1 Soaking in the Summer by Tatev 2 First Impressions by Evan 3 25 Meters by Keaton 4 Wasabi Revenge by Noah 5 The All Terrain Upgrade by Benj 6 Invention Essays 7 Sibling Security by Sadie 8 Poetry 9 Unspoken by Benj and Yali 10 Grounded by Noah and Tatev 10 A Tribute to Ghost, the Novel by Evan & Claire 11 You by Denisa and Emma 11 You Can’t Write a Poem About a Pinata by Francesco, Sofi and Riley 12 You Can’t Write a Poem About a Poem by Maxwell and Alessio 13 You Can’t Write a Poem About a Book by Sadie, Natalia and Gabrielle 14 Humanities Narratives 15 A Stain on the Soul by Yaroslav 16 Was the Sacrifice Worth It? by Bryant 18 Devil’s House by Blair 19 Fighting for Freedom by Ines 22 Protector of Kin by Teagan 24 Poetry 27 You Can’t Write a Poem About a Laptop by Daphne 28 You Can’t Write a Poem About Instagram by Ines 29 Expository Essays & Picture Prompts 31 Out of the Ordinary by Benedetta 32 Born Not Bred by Roberta 34 The Night Fire by Rong 36 Prose & Poetry 37 Endless Expedition by Anson 38 Space in My Heart by Pietro 39 The Dove Will Appear by Annika 40 Lapiz Lazuli by Juliane 41 III 0,1 VILLA VOICE romane 6 giugno 2019.qxp_2018 06/06/19 13:53 Pagina IV IV Shan, grade 6 N ARRATIVES 6 th GRADE “One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.” The Book Thief N ARRATIVES 1 Soaking in the Summer into my uncle’s Range Rover and of my brothers mischievous grin. by Tatev start the drive to our summer He is a tiger waiting to pounce on grade 6 house. As we slowly wind through its prey. Within seconds, my brother the streets, my brother tells us has splashed water into my face! I wake up suddenly; my feet are to close the windows because After about two hours, which already touching the floor before villagers have already started the feels like two minutes, we are my brain understands what I am water works. He fears they will all completely and utterly soaked! doing. Somehow, this morning splash water into the car. “How Once the battle is over, we make seems different than all of the do you know?” my mom inquires. our way to the dinner hall. My other mornings. Immediately, I “Because I have done it before!” mom tells us to dry up in the sun. know why: it is summer, and I am my brother replies with laughter. We spend the rest of the day back in my home country of My mom smiles but still proceeds relaxing at the summer house, Armenia for Vartavar. Let’s start to open the window. She wants to eating shawarmas and singing off by saying that Vartavar is my take a picture of the landscape. Beatles songs. When it is time to favorite holiday! Nobody in Suddenly, my brother looks panicked. leave, we pack up and I race to Armenia wants to miss it. In “CLOSE THE WINDOW!” he shrills. the car to get a good spot. We all Armenia, Vardavar is a holiday that But it is too late. Some hooligans say our goodbyes and continue celebrates the transfiguration of splash water into the car. My our singing all the way home. Jesus Christ. But most important, mom absorbs most of the water Within moments of arriving back you get to pour ICE cold water on because she is the closest to the to my grandparents’ house, my each other, and there are NO window. Her face looks surprised, head is on the pillow. I can barely EXCEPTIONS! If you want to and yet it kind of looks like she keep my eyes open. My mom avoid get soaked, you stay at expected it. walks in to check on me. “You indoors. I certainly was not going We finally arrive at our summer know mom, I missed this place,” I to stay home. house where our family’s water tell her. Eager to start the day, I dash war will take place. At this point, we My mom sits on the edge of my downstairs for breakfast. I arrive to are mostly dry and ready for battle. I bed. “Me too,” she replies. “I just the balcony in my grandparents' remember someone carrying a wish I didn’t get splashed house. Grape vines drape on the huge watermelon and the rest is through the window, but I should walls preventing the sun from one long, wet blur. Everyone starts have expected it.” sneaking in. Still half asleep but to go crazy. They run like wild “It is Vardavar after all,” I say, excited, I settle onto the outdoor animals with fear and excitement finishing her thought. I want to sofa and wait for others to wake in their eyes. There is one specific keep talking about the magical up. Specks of light stream in attack that I remember clearly. I events of the day, but fatigue is through the vines and warm me grip a bucket of ice cold water in taking over. as I wait. My brother is still asleep my hands. I slowly approach my My mom gets up and moves because summer is basically his oldest cousin and pour it down toward the door. “Now get to bed. hibernation period. Suddenly I her back! Her mouth drops to the It’s late Tat,” she whispers. And detect a savory scent of salted floor and her eyes roll back into before I can protest, I drift off to pancakes-one of my grandma’s her head. I feel so proud in the sleep with a smile on my face. specialties. Soon, she stands in moment, but that doesn’t last long. the doorway with a platter. I When I turn around, I see a glimpse squeal with delight and grab as Jihoo, grade 6 many pancakes as my hands can hold. I devour them l like a bear that has just discovered an entire honey jar. Now, the family is ready for the fun that is about to unfold. We leave the safety of our house and race down the cobblestone streets. We slip through a narrow passage to get to the car. So far, we manage to stay dry. And yet I glance down at the ground, and there are already some water splashes on the ground. Tamar Tatik, our fruit seller, waves at us and tells me and my brother that we have grown up a lot; this just reminds me that everyone in Yerevan is considered family. We squeeze 2 N ARRATIVES Elizaveta, grade 6 First Impressions by Evan grade 6 I trudged up the driveway to our cousins' house and stumbled onto the doormat like a wounded animal. It had been a long travel day full of cars and planes. My Norwegian aunt and uncle, Ingie and John, welcomed us into their house. It was the first time I had ever seen them in their own home and had always wondered how they lived. Outside, the Norwegian neighborhood was pitch black and cold, but the house was warm and cozy. We dropped our bags in a heap at the door and walked into the living room. On the dining room table in the distance was a delicious plate of “ Salma” (a Norwegian fish) awaiting us. The white plate was lined with strips of orange red salmon, juicy mango, and lime green avocado. My stomach rumbled as saliva filled my dry mouth. My cousins, Thea and Tuva, ran down the spiral stairs to greet us. We hugged and walked into the kitchen to eat. We settled down in the dining room chairs, that were draped in sheep skins, in front of the fire. Their warm house was the perfect place to be after a long day of travel. It was a small, two-story home looking out across a shimmering fjord into Oslo. All of us together were eight people: my aunt, my uncle, Thea and Tuva (my cousins), my parents, my brother and I. We spent the next hour talking about our travels and devouring an orca.