Letter

287 Lytton Blvd
Toronto,On
M5N 1R7

Mr. Tom Stevens
Head of Admissions
Royal St. Georges College
120 Howland Ave
Toronto, On
M5R 3B5


Dear Mr.Stevens,

I arrived at The Sterling Hall School in grade 1 and have liked it right from that day. I love going to school especially this year because of my great teachers and the exciting new leadership roles. My favourite subject is English since I love learning words and my teacher, Mr. Coles, is great. I am the Community Service Prefect since I really enjoy helping others. We have met on December 5, 2007 and I really enjoyed it. I am well suited for this school because I do a lot of community service and I am a caring, hardworking kid.

On December 1st I attended an Out of the Cold dinner and I loved it. We had to set the table, make the dinner, serve the food and clean up. It was great to give something to people who are not as fortunate. I participated on the SHS U-14 Soccer team and it was a blast. We did very well and finished first. I am playing on the squash team this year and it's great. It's the first time I've played and I already have learned a ton.

I think I can contribute in many ways at RSGC. I could help out greatly in Community service, athletics, and academics. I think your trips are amazing. I love debating and I have heard they go to England! I would also love to go to Tuscany for a Global Outreach trip and to Japan with the band.

I think I would fit in great at RSGC because of my great qualities and since I know so many kids there. I think your school is amazing and it's my first choice.


Sincerely,


Luke Stein

Edited poem

Pencil

I lie on the table motionless waiting for him
My newly sharpened point glints in the sunlight
I am wooden and plain there is nothing too exciting about me
The giant walks toward me and picks me up
He puts my point on the paper and starts writing
At the start he grinds me across the page
After a minute his ideas start to come
Little does he know it is because of my brilliance
While he is reading I am used as a drumstick against the side of the table
Over the few months I have been alive I’ve been bitten and thrown
Whacked and lost for a while
It is so unfair, we are smarter and more valuable than these worthless humans
But they get all the credit for the writing and they get treated well
I guess that’s the way it is
I can’t convince these giants what they’re doing is wrong
I don’t have a say in things
After he is finished he drops me on the table runs away to play
And I’m alone again

Once there was a boy named randolph randolph didnt believe in ghosts he told his friends that he would sleep in the haunted house that night for $30 that night randolph got really freaked out he tried to get out of the house but the ghosts swarmed him and killed him once there was a boy named andrew who didn't believe in ghosts and

Lukes awesome poems

Pencil

I lie on the table motionless waiting for him

My newly sharpened point glints in the sunlight

I am wooden and plain nothing too exciting about me

The giant walks toward me and picks me up

He puts my point on the paper and starts writing

At the start he grinds me across the page

After a minute his ideas start to come

Little does he know it is because of my brilliance

While he is reading I am used as a drumstick against the side of the table

Over the few months I have been alive I’ve been bitten and thrown

Whacked and lost for a while

It is so unfair, we are smarter and more valuable than these worthless humans

But they get all the credit for the writing and they get treated well

I guess it’s just the way it is

I can’t convince these humans what they’re doing is wrong

I don’t have a say in things

After he is finished he drops me on the table and runs away to play

And I am alone again

By: Luke Stein

Here is another Martian poem

An Ode to a Cottage Mouse

Why don’t they let us live in peace with them?

They set up devices that will snap our necks

The devices are made up of wood and iron

When they spot us they become angry and try to squish us

So we live in permanent hiding

Do they get pleasure out of killing?

If not, what purpose does it have?

We will just keep multiplying

We go in to a place with doors and floors of wood

It is where they keep their food

They have so much why don’t they share?

But some mice are safe

They live in cages

They are fed and rubbed

Held and loved

Why are we any different?

We do the same things as them

But they get special treatment

Is it because they are purchased in a store?

They can just put us in a cage and feed us and love us

They are very silly wasting their money

Are colony is dying and we need help

Maybe they will change and start helping not killing

Maybe just maybe we can live in peace

By: Luke Stein

Age:12

A Martian poem is a poem from someone or something else's perspective if you haven't already realized that from my poems. I chose a pencil because I saw it laying on the desk beside me and I wondered what it would be like to be a pencil.

For the mouse poem I wrote about it because I have a mouse infestation at my cottage and I also thought what it would be like to be a mouse in permanent hiding.

By: Luke