Ann & Nate Levine Academy 18011 Hillcrest Road, Dallas, Texas 75252
2022/5782 Volume XXIX
Yaara Aharon
Mia Blum
Zoe Blum
Talia Fisher
Brenden Fruhling
Zachary Ingham
Editor: Joanie Geffen Graphic Designer: Wendy Cramer Cover Art: Raphael Rubinsky
Kayla Kosfiszer
Sydney Kramen
Eli Kraus
Tannah Levin
Roni Levkovich
Editor ’ s Note:
Addison Monfried
Lyle Pailet
If this volume of our magazine feels slightly different than its predecessors, the assumption will be correct. Yes, it still high- lights the excellent art and writings from our K - 8 students, but after two plus Covid years and a terrible war currently going on in Ukraine, the students ’ submissions are, for the most part, quite serious in content. The first half of this volume re- flects the innocence of childhood; whereas the last section expresses a more serious stance on our complex world. In all cases, readers will experience the wonderful gifts our stu- dents offer.
Shira Rahamim
Brianna Richardson
Maya Rothstein
Sarina Rutner
Ella Sadka
Daniel Tarnavsky
Jordan Zimmermann
2
ART
7 Mixed Media Bear Sculpture, Caleb Luskey 8 Peruvian Llama Weaving, Josey Medows & Corbin Brown 10 Sea Turtle, Drawing/Collage, Annette Ovadia 11 Mermaid Trio Sculpture, Jordan Zimmermann
POETRY
4 Lost My Balloon, Kayla Kosfiszer 5 Gladiator, Amiel Bueckert 7 Hot Chocolate, Liana Asoulin - Handelman 22 That Fateful Day, Tannah Levin 24 Harmonic Essence, Ethan Margolies 25 Old Soul, Sydney Kramen 27 Flowers for Happiness, Sarah Orkin
12 Big Face Painting, Alex Frieden 13 Big Face Painting, Tilo Malouf 14 Native American Medicine Pouch, Mixed Media, Ava Blum 17 Alexander Calder Inspired Drawing, Gabe Stern 18 Op Art, Leeam Ksabi 20 Abstract Nature Landscape Print/ Collage, Harel Ben - Porat 25 Valton Tyler inspired Fantasy Drawing, Tori Zimmermann 28 Metal Repousse/Painted Sun Face, Liana Asoulin - Handelman 32 Peruvian Faux Tapestry Collage, Ava Blacker
PROSE
7
The Groundhog, Harlow Fenster
7
My Mom, Nave Hadad
8
Lake, Nadav Kushnick
15
Mr. Tianki, Ayla Felder
16
Mr. Turner, Hannah Schildkraut
17
Words Not Spoken, Ella Sadka
19 Terror ’ s Grip, Talia Taback 20 - 21 “ A Shot in the Heart, ” Neve Felder 28 - 29 To My Future Self, Zoe Blum
3
Lost My Balloon
When I was young and naive,
my imagination had no limits.
Scribbling on paper might have looked like a mess,
but in my eyes, it was a masterpiece.
I used to play “ house ” with my friends in school;
each played a different family member.
In a split second my backdrop changed to whatever I wished.
And when in need of prop pieces,
we just got creative.
Suddenly a chair would become a spaceship,
an apple might become a Thanksgiving turkey,
and a desk would be our home.
It was like a superpower.
Life was so much easier and stress - free.
When we are younger, we don ’ t care what other people think.
I would walk around in a princess dress and plastic high heels.
I miss those days.
Now I worry what others think of me.
We gain skills as we grow older, but lose some without realizing it.
A part of my youth just slipped out of my hand.
As I watch it float away,
I shed a tear
but remember, this is just a part of life.
Kayla Kosfiszer, Eighth Grade
4
Gladiator
I ’ m in the colosseum in Rome. In here I feel as tiny as a gnome. Oh no the lion ’ s after me. They even set the jaguars free. I slash my sword and defend myself But to the elephant I look like an elf. And now the eagle ’ s at my head. I think I might almost be dead. But then I wake with a start and see. My stuffed animals all around me.
Amiel Bueckert, Fourth Grade
Caleb Luskey, Kindergarten
5
Joseie Medows, Second Grade
Corbin Brown, Second Grade
6
The Groundhog
My name is Harlow groundhog and everyone bugs me because they wake me up and I don’t want too aser eney questonse and I hate when peple lift me up. I hate groundhog’s day because My shadow scares me! And that’s why I don’t like February 2nd.
Harlow Fenster, First Grade
Hot Chocolate
When it is cold I like to drink hot chok lit! and I like to read a book! and I read and drink next to the fire!
Liana Asoulin-Handelman, Kindergarten
My Mom - Hana
My mommy is very special to me and I love her.
To begin, my mom helps me on tough stuff. She helps me with my math and Hebrew homework when it’s hard. Also, my mom buys me the food I like. She buys me sushi ramen and more asuan food because I LOVE asun food. Last but not least, my mom helps me read books. I like reading Last Kids on Earth with her because she helps me read tiny words. As you can see, I appreciate her hard work to keep me happy!!!
Nave Hadad, Second Grade
Please Note: Most writing below fifth grade is in its original spelling and grammatical format.
7
Lake
I am in a lake I feel so cold I ’ m gonna shake The squid is pulling me by the arm
It is doing a lot of harm Now the eel has my toes The octopus is on my nose The whale has my head
Now I think I must be dead Next my eyes are going red The fish are on my neck You don't want to know what happens next
Nadav Kushnick, Fourth Grade
9
W ho’s
10
t he B oss ?
11
Ava Blum, Third Grade
12
October 27, 2021 3503 International Place NW Washington, D.C. 20008
Dear Mr. Tianki:
Do you love dogs? Do you wish you could have one as a pet? Well, if you live in China, you can ’ t! While most people love and keep dogs as pets, every year China has a festival called Yulin, where they eat dogs. This leads to people scared to keep pets in China, violating animal rights, and rallies are held to support these dogs. If so many dogs die each year, how will we love and keep them as pets? One reason why China should end its festival is that people have started to get scared to keep dogs. A three - year - old girl from Hong Kong named Juliana Liu was told she was going shopping. When she came back with her mom, she found her dog, Doggie, being cooked. Everyone thought she would just forget about it, and move on. But those people were very, very wrong because she still hasn ’ t forgotten, even forty - three years later. She even talked about it recently, because she works for Hong Kong ’ s BBC News Channel. Why would you want to keep a dog in China on that account, especially around Yulin? As well as that, China should end its festival because it violates animal rights. Every year, a million dogs are killed just for Yulin. These poor animals die just for food when they could be living in a comfortable house, living with a family who makes sure they get a great, long life. But, of course, that doesn ’ t happen when Yulin comes around. It ’ s the same thing as kidnapping a dog and then killing it. I don ’ t think anyone would want that to happen to their dog. And especially if they get killed just for food? Finally, China should end its festival because people are working very hard to support the dogs, and China still de- cided to have its festival. One animal campaign group, Humane Society International, started a petition to stop Yulin and got eleven million signatures. But China still chose to hold its precious Yulin. Chinese animal activists even had a pro dog rally, and dressed up as colorful animals, and walked through the streets of China. But China still decided to celebrate Yulin. China should end its dog eating festival. I know you celebrate it because it ’ s a tradition, and that ’ s great that you kept that tradition going, but maybe now that you know that it is causing people to fear keeping pets, violating ani- mal rights, and people holding rallies to stop Yulin, you could consider ending it. After all, “ A dog teaches you un- conditional love. If you can have that in life, things can ’ t be too bad. ” - Robert Wagner.
Sincerely, Ayla Felder Fifth Grade Dallas, Texas
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October 28, 2021
Sylvester Turner, City of Houston Mayor P.O. Box 1562 Houston, TX 77251
Dear Mr. Turner:
Did you know that women are less likely to get a job in an office if they are competing with a man? As of 2018, the share of companies in the United States with female CEOs was 4.9 percent, while the female CFOs share stood at 13.2 percent? While it may seem as though men and women are treated equally, women are still not fully equal as they are overlooked for jobs, receive backlash and threats when they speak up, and many companies favor men in their advertisements. Women ’ s rights is a serious topic that has changed throughout the timeline although some changes were for the worse and many for the better, such as women having achieved the right to vote. But still, only 4.2 % of CEOs are women because of the inequality. The women ’ s rate in the business area is difficult because companies think they are not capable of working hard. Women have been fighting for their rights since 1848 and still work so hard to get their rights. This shows they will keep fighting throughout the timeline and make changes for the better. Many directors choose to use male leads because they think they would look better for the press as superheroes. The Hollywood industry has in fact changed with more feminine leads. Still, men still have a bigger salary in Holly- wood as in the movie Kim Possible (2018 edition). Sean Gimbrone (Ron) made more money out of the movie than Clare Wilson (Athena) even though they were both leading characters. Throughout the year 2017 only 24 percent of the movies produced came out with feminine leads, and only 12.8 percent were LGBTQ women. It ’ s crazy that more movies were made with male leads even though women ’ s leads are just as capable in Hollywood. I believe that women are just as capable in the Hollywood industry as men. They are just overlooked by many because they will always pick the strong tall man to be the superhero. Women are just as capable as men in so many different ways. The old standard was that women should stay at home and clean and take care of the kids, but times have changed, and now there are more LGBTQ couples and single mothers. Although there has been so much support to women across the world, there are still men angry about this, which causes terrible actions such as sexualizing and rape. Many women do not get jobs even though they are as capable as male competitors. Women can be just as capable as men if they put their minds to it. Men and women are treated “ equally ” according to many, but are they really? Women are just as capable as men, they should get paid the same amount, and should be given the same chance in a job situation. We all should be equal no matter sexuality, gender, or race. We all are human and should be working to better our planet.
Sincerely, Hannah Schildkraut
Sixth Grade Plano, Texas
14
Gabe Stern, Second Grade
15
Leeam Ksabi, Seventh Grade
16
Words not Spoken
November 7th, 1938 She told me that a German diplomat, Ernst vom Rath, was shot in Paris today. I remember her mentioning him before; he works for a malicious man named Adolf Hitler. This vicious man has a vendetta against Jews, or scapegoats, as she calls her people. The man who shot vom Rath is a Polish Jew. She is terrified for her family ’ s safety. I could feel the fear in her words. Being the one she confides in, I know her well, but I don ’ t bring her comfort anymore. I feel helpless. Powerless. November 8th, 1938 As she sobbed, I could feel her tears on my skin. Her words became hard to understand. She mentioned the shooting victim again; his condition is deteriorating. Her fears are escalating. The whispers behind closed doors worry her. Today is Tuesday. She longs for Tuesdays of the past; ballet lessons with her friends. I too, wish for them; the days when she shared her joys with me, not her anxieties. Her depressed disposition has been like this for a while now. I haven ’ t been much help to her, but , it is reassuring to know, she will trust me with her deepest thoughts, again tomorrow. November 9th, 1938 It has been almost a whole day, but still not one word from her. Will my deepest fears become a reality? Has she lost hope in me? Is she safe? Where has she gone? She has never missed a day of communicating with me. Ever. What is that sound? It ’ s unfamiliar. Something sharp pierces my sleeve. A wintry wind blows me over and I feel the floor shaking, as I lie here, alone. November 10th, 1938 The door bursts open. Somebody barges in. It ’ s not her. A huge black, gloved hand grabs me violently. I am tossed, as if worthless , onto a pile. The heat rises up my spine. Flames lick at my pages, destroying her precious words. Shared memories smolder along with the sacred writings of her people. I struggle to keep her last words alive. Her passion, her strength, her love.
May they rise from these ashes.
Ella Sadka, Eighth Grade
17
Harel Ben-Porat, Fourth Grade
18
Terror’s Grip
Dear Diary, I ’ m lying in bed. I have little strength in my limbs. I lie on my back, the soft noises of hospital machines buzzing in the background. My stomach has an empty, hollow feeling inside. They have tried to “ protect ” me by not telling me everything that is going on. But I am not stupid, I know the Russians are coming - though I do not know what they will do when they get here. Mom told me not to accept the worst. But lying here, with nothing but my thoughts going in circles through my mind, it is hard not to. As I lie here, my imagination wanders — a thousand atrocities I have never seen now seem to come clearly to my head. Fear grips me. Dear Diary, The nurse just came in to see me. She said not to worry - but there was worry in her voice and eyes. I can ’ t take it anymore. Just lying here, while Ukrainians die and war wages. I am barely ten. I wonder if I will ever reach my eleventh birthday.
Dear Diary, I lie here, helpless. Insignificant. Useless.
Dear Diary, Mom has joined the army and is going to fight. She kissed me on the forehead. “ I love you, ” she repeated over and over through her tears. I hugged her back, not wanting to let go. I don ’ t want to be alone. I don ’ t want her to die. As that thought hit me, I began to cry. Big, hiccupping tears - the kind I haven ’ t cried since I was little. And fear gripped me again, but not for myself this time. For her. For Ukraine. For everything I have ever known. Dear Diary, Today they are moving us out of the hospital. Nurses push the beds of kids who can ’ t walk. Those who can barely walk stumble along - the beds can only be used for those who need them. The line is slow. Fear is palpable in the air. As I lay in bed, I look around at my fellow patients. We are all children, we are all Ukrainian, but other than that we have nothing in common - different reasons for being in the hospital, different features and ethnicities. And yet every face that I see, no matter the features, holds fear. We are all afraid. More afraid than we have ever been in our lives. Scared for our lives, scared for our parents and family, scared for our cities and towns, scared for our country. For the whole while it takes us to board the train, which will allegedly take us to somewhere safe (if there is any such place), fear hovers in the air. No, not fear, absolute terror.
Talia Taback, Seventh Grade
19
“A shoT in The heArT Doesn’T MAke iT UnbreAk”
Lyrics by Mother Mother
“ Mariya! ” my mom called.
“ Coming, Mama! ” I yelled back. I turned to my room. It was nearly empty. Almost
all of my stuff had been stuffed into suitcases or trunks.
When my family and I found out we had 24 hours to pack everything and flee our
home, we were devastated. My siblings and mom didn ’ t waste any time packing, but I
held off on it for a while. I couldn ’ t bring myself to put anything away.
After a few hours of sitting in my room, wondering what would happen to us and
our country, I finally decided to get stuff done. I thought it would take my mind off of it, but
it did the opposite.
As I went through my drawers, I found keepsakes and pictures. There were my
school textbooks I was using only a few weeks ago, a game - winning soccer ball I had
used when I played, a blanket that my cousins gave me for my 16th birthday, and many
more things. I kept going, pushing down the feelings and memories that bubbled up every
time I saw something.
I was almost done now, just standing there. I walked forward and looked at my
dresser. It was full of pictures. I went through them, but stopped suddenly when I saw
one of the photos.
It was of me and my girlfriend, Natali. I was on her back, my eyes closed,
grinning. She was looking at me with a huge smile on her face. We were so happy, so
oblivious to the dangers to come.
I realized I would most likely not see her again, and the emotions pushed
through. I fell to my knees, sobbing. She had helped me through the hardest of times.
Whether it was my parents ’ divorce or my baba , my grandmother ’ s, death, she was
always there for me. I loved her, but never had the chance to tell her.
20
I forced myself to stand up and bring my suitcases to the front room. My brother
and two sisters were standing, waiting for me. My mama came shortly after them. We all
walked out silently.
As we started walking to the train, I looked around. We passed burning houses
and schools. I saw my school in flames and blinked hard. All those memories, gone.
I heard a loud noise behind us and turned around. It was Natali! She had run to
say goodbye to me.
“ Natali! ” I ran up to her and gave her the biggest hug.
“ Mariya, I need to tell you something, ” she started, breathing heavily. “ I... ” Before
she could finish, I heard a gunshot, and her grip on me loosened. I let go and saw thick,
deep red blood on my hand. I turned back to Natali and she dropped to the ground. I put
my hand on her shirt, which was now stained red.
I looked up to see someone running away. I wanted nothing more than to chase
after them, but Natali grabbed my face in her hand.
“ I ’ m sorry, ” she whispered, and the light that was usually in her eyes went cold. I
screamed as tears fell quickly onto her. I shoved my head in her chest, wishing I could
stay there forever.
My brother pulled me off her with a lot of effort. I continued crying all the way out.
Now that Natali was gone, there was nothing to hold me together.
I had broken, and there was no going back.
Neve Felder, Seventh Grade
*Editor ’ s Note: This piece is a tribute to the Ukrainian people.
21
That Fateful Day
Flames exploded around me,
bursting through the air.
I stay huddled in the corner,
ash singeing at my hair.
I tried to search for an escape,
but smoke filled up my eyes.
As the tears rolled down my face,
I awaited my demise.
I stayed in my cracking corner,
as the flames engulfed the floor.
What had happened here today?
And has it happened here before?
Why did I come to work today
and climb up to the top?
It made me feel like I could fly,
but now I fear I ’ ll drop.
The screams had slowly faded,
and replaced with but one cry.
Had the wails been my own?
And was I really going to die?
Soon the flames had overtaken,
and all my hope was lost.
Why did they choose to do this,
and was it worth their cost?
Tannah Levin, Eighth Grade
22
Tori Zimmermann, Fifth Grade
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Harmonic Essence
Black and white the keys flow on creating a soft melodic song
The lines of music command your presence Draping you in harmonic essence
The feel of the ebony and hardwood tiles rich on my skin, like sand on feet walking for miles
The quickness of the staccato through the measures the shallow beats rolling a true pleasure
The final chords come in together flats and sharps sounding beautiful forever.
Ethan Margolies, Seventh Grade
24
Old Soul
I will walk along the swamps of despair. Green mist swirling with the scent of decay. I will climb the mountains of fear; craggy rocks poking holes in my heart. I will push through the desert of hate; dry winds sucking at my soul. I will soar above emotions that once chained me down, and pave my path with the clouds.
Sky and earth rejoice. The marigolds
bloom in the Field of Hope, looking upwards to the future. Great seas create harmony. Waves crash with rhythm. Honey sunsets melt with the horizon
until they are one. Souls shall be one; with the sky, with the world. All have the strength to soar.
Sydney Kramen, Eighth Grade
25
Liana Asoulin-Handelman, Kindergarten
26
Flowers for Happiness
Winter
Dewdrops shine on winter trees.
A cold breeze sweeps along the trees
shaking branches as it flies.
Snowflakes glisten as they fall from the sky
coating the ground in a white cloud.
The sun shining,
reflecting on the snow.
But alas, the seasons must change.
Winter to spring, summer to fall.
Flowers bloom, green grass
sprouts from the ground.
Bees buzz and butterflies sip
nectar from the petals of roses, daisies.
The sweet smell of new life coats my senses.
I get lost in the simple peace of it all.
Handed out like candies at a carnival,
free for all to take.
Spring.
Sarah Orkin, Seventh Grade
27
To My Future Self
March 17
Hi my nam is Ben. I am 7 yers old. I was tuld bye my techer to rite a boat wat I tink I will be lik when I am oder and rite to my futore sef. To my futore sef I tink I wil be mor fre and I wil be abul to do wat evr I wnt lik eatin can- di evry day and I can also wath all da tv I wnt.
May 19 (7 years later)
My mom was cleaning the attic and found my notebook from first grade. She suggested I look through it and see if I wanted to keep it. Wow, I had horrible spelling. I thought about the question in the journal for a while. Right now I ’ m 14, and here is some advice for my past self: Middle school is rough. There is a lot of drama and it ’ s awkward. Boys and girls in my grade have started dating. EW! What does dating even mean at this age? Anyway, at the school dance boys were asking girls out. I wanted to ask a girl but could never muster up the courage to do so, and, when I finally did, she was going out with another boy. I felt humiliated. The worst part was watching from the bleachers as everyone danced. At least I had my best friend, Marco, who was there for me. Next year we are going into high school, and I worry things will change between us. But I try not to think about that. As a teen I do feel like I ’ m freer, but now I also have more responsibilities. As the year comes to a close, I will be a high schooler, which is kinda scary. I don ’ t feel ready, but at the same time, I am. It will be hard saying goodbye but a quote I once heard was, “ When one door closes another door opens. ”
August 15 (4 years later)
I was packing for college and I found this journal again. It made me smile when I read it. To my past self: Have fun and don ’ t be afraid to be yourself. In high school I learned a lot about myself. High school was difficult at first, but I got into the flow of it. Even though Marco and I weren ’ t friends anymore, I made new ones. During high school I found one of my passions, playing guitar. I joined a band with a few of my friends. I also found another passion, learning history. I read every book I could find and read about all these famous places. I want- ed to travel the world, and I hope to do so in the future. I will soon have the freedom that I always wanted, but I don ’ t want to leave my family. I feel as if I ’ m leaving my childhood behind. I wish I could hold onto those memo- ries forever. High school has been the best years of my life. I ’ m sad it ’ s over, but now with every end, there ’ s a new beginning.
July 6 (5 years later)
I found this journal when I was searching through my desk. Wow, this is from 16 years ago! That feels so long ago. To my past self, here is my advice to you: Be responsible. Now I know that sounds like advice your mom would give you, but heed my advice–it ’ s important. As an undergrad student you have a lot of responsibilities to take care of. Not just with school work but also with jobs.
28
If you keep up with the good work and be a hard working student, college will be smooth sailing. Now I ’ m 23 and still discovering what I want to do with my life. I want to go to grad school and I still want to travel the world one day. But one thing I do know for sure is that I feel as free as I ’ ll ever be. I also met my girlfriend recently through college. So, to my past self, enjoy college.
January 16 (20 years later)
I almost forgot about this journal. My daughter found it. I looked through it with my four kids. I loved looking back at my journal. It brought back so many memories. To my past self, you will need this: Once you have kids, you will never sleep again. You ’ ll see what I mean. Anyway, I got married to my girlfriend and it was a beautiful wedding. My job is a desk job. It ’ s not very exciting, but, hey, at least there ’ s coffee. Though I never got to travel the world as I wanted to, at least I got four great kids. My family is my everything. I love them and I ’ ll do anything for them. One of my best moments of life was when I became a dad. The moment when they told me it was a girl, I started crying. When I held her, I couldn ’ t help but grin. She was perfect in every way. As she smiled for the first time and grabbed my finger with her tiny little hand, I already loved her. I treasure those memories of my kids ’ milestones. I keep those memories near and dear to my heart and I always will. To my past self: cherish these moments in your life. They will help you whenever you feel lost or out of place.
November 5 (47 years later.)
Today is my 90th birthday. I can ’ t believe how far I ’ ve come. My kids are now all grown up and have kids of their own. Today, of all days, I ’ m surrounded by my loving family. How lucky am I! As I opened my birthday gifts from my grandchildren, I started to cry. My journal from all those years ago. My daughter kept it and gave it to her children, then they gave it to me. After my birthday, I looked through the journal one last time. I had a big imagination for a seven year old. This imagination never became reality. Oh my past self, I was wrong. As we get older, we only get tied down more and more by age. But never let your age define you. I know I can ’ t do as much as I could then, but I ’ m the happiest I will ever be. I never got to travel the world, but that never stopped me from my other dreams. To my past self, I have my last advice for you before I leave: Life can be rough; just hang on and enjoy the ride. Look at life through your achievements, not your failures. If you only look at your failures, you will never be happy with yourself. Love yourself because you are you. You are enough. Lastly, never let any boundaries hold you back from what you love. I did, and I regret it. Boundaries may be scary, but know you will never be alone, and there will always be people to support you. Once you cross those boundaries, don ’ t let anything stop you from crossing the next.
Your friend,
Benjamin Lucas Smith
Zoe Blum, Eighth Grade
29
Ava Blacker, First Grade
30
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