Chime by Brooke East Boston Scholar, Amayan Johnson-Rosenfeld
Amayan Johnson-Rosenfeld is a current sixth grade scholar at Brooke East Boston, and a poet. Read a part of Amayan’s poem, “Chime”, below.
CHIME.
The clock starts ticking, And everything starts. I become aware. A cry here and there. At objects I would stare then point. Now I start to crawl. On my hands and knees all day long. And then I talk, in the house I will soon walk. Nearly a year I’ve grown up to, You can’t get me to shut up too. Then…
CHIME.
Now it’s 2. I learn to recognize colors and simple sounds. I stand, I stumble , I fall. I cry, then I restart. I know how to listen to basic commands, and say simple sentences. I learn what I should and shouldn’t do. I mean isn’t that what everybody learns? To be good and listen to what somebody else says. Learning the basic moralities in a way that somebody else interprets it . I didn’t know what it meant, but sometime during that year my grandmother went. Went somewhere that I still don’t know. I was there. I was unaware. I was young. But she was gone. The year goes by, not forgetting, but passing it by.
CHIME.
Clock strikes 3. Now I’m more free. At preschool I attend and learn bigger words and sentences. I know the difference between good and bad. My words get clearer. My writing gets neater. And I soon know the meaning of fear. I learn how to work on projects with the help of my peers. I meet best friends. I don’t know that yet, but we’re tied. Bonded. Practically since the beginning of time. I learn where I’m from. And I don’t shush about it. I now develop my own mind and thoughts, starting to ponder, and wonder. And ask the stupid questions that cross my mind with honesty. Curiosity strikes like the clock and goes:
CHIME.
Now I’m 4. I’ve gained the title as above average. I’m not like that anymore. The potential is still there, just underused. I learn the rhythm to songs, and to read before most of my level. I use the influence of my family and follow what they do, though they tell me not to. Monkey see Monkey do. I refuse to eat certain foods even if I have not tried it. I become picky, and kicky. Annoyingly icky. And after a long boring year.
CHIME.
Now I’m up 5, like the numbers ‘round a clock. I started kindergarten and soon realized that the same family of friends I built in preschool miraculously joined me in kindergarten. I started getting in trouble more. Getting sent in class out the door. Still be above other peers at a purple scoop. I was getting into patterns and shapes. Then basic addition and subtraction. Soon I received nightly lifework to trace the letters of the alphabet and do a nightly fact power. Those days were nice. And memorable. But they went by, just like time.
CHIME.
Now it’s 6:00 and things start getting weird. I move out of the house that I was born to live in, leaving the room, and toys that I loved. The house that i moved to had no room to fit all of our stuff. I learned to live with it and accepted it. We still had some nice moments there. Obviously I didn’t know why we moved. I just whined about it like I was still 2. But things clear up, and before i know it
CHIME.
That year goes by and it’s now VII. I’ve started thinking about the things that never made sense. And I question myself. I’ve discovered the art of social media, and I earn a phone. I do chores around the house and ask my parents for a loan. I start pondering about what life is. Nobody will ever know. I start acting up more, and growing a leaf of sass and attitude that is misunderstood. I start trying to follow what all the other kids are doing. I ignore the Me in Me. Nothing more to say than that.