More Writing from Willow Creek

Students reflect at Willow Creek

Here are a few more reflections for Honoring our Rivers from our students at Rachel Carson Environmental Middle School in Beaverton:

Written by a Rachel Carson eighth grader:

My roots are deep.  I came from far away.  The others seem weak so I take from them what they need to live.  Water.  Sun.  Nutrients.  All of it.  Mine.  They die, slowly withering to the ground.  Until one day, I’m grabbed.  Pulled.  Ripped from the earth.  Then thrown in a pile with others like me.  Now weak, and deprived of what we need to live.  And we too wither and die.  The things we stole go back to the ground.

I am reed canary grass.

Written by a Rachel Carson seventh grader:

It’s cold and wet and windy.  There’s mud everywhere.  The water drips off your nose and you can’t get rid of it.  Your hands are too muddy.  You can hear and see the other people, hammering sticks into the ground.  Even though its cold and windy, ducks are still swimming at the other side of the pond.  It smells like mud and water.  Pink flags wave in the wind on the other side of the river.  Your hands are cold but you can’t put on your gloves.  But you are happy.

Written by a Rachel Carson sixth grader:

When I come here, I feel that change is everywhere.

The water looks healthier each time I come.

I notice that the native plants grow as fast as the animals.

This makes me feel happy and grateful.

Knowing that one thing I do can change the world, step by step.

I feel the power to change something is in my hands.

This one little plant is my way to show the world change is coming.

Written by a Rachel Carson sixth grader:

As I stare down at my muddy polka dotted boots, they have been many places and have many more to go to.  And to think that before I went to this place, I thought they were dirty. They will help the community, they will help me help the community and they will simply protect me from being muddy. My pink boot liners do not protect me from the mud but warm my feet.  The color does not reflect me; I am not pink, I am not girly. 

I am like my muddy polka dotted boots.

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