These three pieces were among the stories and poems submitted by sixth graders to the Westport Country Playhouse's winter writing contest. They were chosen from all the submissions (grades K-8) to hang in the Playhouse's foyer next week during performances of their holiday show.
"The Holy Wafer"
Around this time of year,
When most people are buying presents for family or friends,
My grandparents are buying Oplatek.
Paper thin, pink or white,
No flavor on my tongue,
Oplatek is shared and broken
Amongst the family.
This Polish tradition,
One that is cherished,
Means so much to me.
For my family and me,
This is more than just a tradition.
It is what we do on Christmas Eve
And a part of who we are.
As my grandparents have said to me,
I now say unto you:
"Wesolych Swiat," or in English,
"Happy Holidays."
--Celeste Matte
******************
“Thanksgiving Talent Show”Knock, knock! I ran to the door and opened it. My cousins came in first, then my grandma and grandpa, and then my aunt and uncle. Once everyone got settled, my sister, my cousins, and I went to the living room to plan our talent show. We would play the piano and dance. We finished choreographing our dance to “Dynamite” before my mom called us for dinner.
After dinner, my cousins, sister, and I went back to rehearse the other parts of our talent show. We were finally ready for our talent show, and called everyone over. First, we started with our choreographed “Dynamite.” After that, my sister played the piano, followed by my youngest cousin, me, my older cousin, and then my oldest cousin. Then, I put “I’m a Gummy Bear” on the stereo, and my grandpa got up and started to dance; we had never seen him dance before! Everyone started to clap. Finally, it was time for the “free dance,” and all the family members got up and joined in. Putting on a talent show after every Thanksgiving dinner quickly became a great new tradition in my family!
--Arman Ozgen
******************
He picks me up and carries me
to the study.
He says,
“Pick one Alexandra.”
I do.
I pick the one that
is very old and falling apart.
This book was his when he was a little boy.
I have heard it a million times.
Every Christmas Eve,
we go over to my grandparents' house—
my brother, sister, mom, dad and I—
and have Christmas Eve dinner,
the smells wafting through the house while we set the table.
But after the dinner and the illegal presents,
we go into the study
and pick a book,
curl up on the couch,
and listen to him read.
His voice,
soft and deep,
fills the space around us,
lulling us to sleep.
--Alexandra L. Wagner