First Place:

Dear Paul Fleischman,

How is your garden doing? Well, my garden is blossoming just like the one in Seedfolks. When we read your book in language arts class, I found it to be really interesting because every single detail in the book connected. If you broke down all of the metaphors and symbols they genuinely went with the main message: building a community. By the end of the book, I could really see how the garden impacted the characters.

The book truly inspires me because I realize how important a community is. The broken people came to the garden and were healed. Before, everyone felt that there was something missing in there lives. What they realized was that they just needed people to support them. The people in the community became more aware of themselves and the people around them. The garden helped break boundaries and cultivate hope.

Before reading Seedfolks, I thought neighbors were just people you live by, but come to find out, just like the characters in the book did, I realized a neighborhood is much more than that. Now, I know that neighbors support you, they accept you truly, and they make you feel safe. When Ana and Wendell saw Kim plant the lima beans, it was like a chain reaction, and when I saw the end result, I wanted that blooming garden too. This book in some way mirrors my life, which is why I could relate. Did you every feel like you were not part of a community?

This past Thanksgiving, I decided to become a Seedfolk and try and start something new in my neighborhood. My neighbors and I are not very close at all. I try and say “hello,” but I don’t feel a connection; I don’t really know them. In class, our teacher had us write down our own idea on how we could change our community. I then passed out cookies and a poem to ten of my neighbors in hopes of starting something. As I am writing this, I am still disappointed because my neighbors have not done anything, and I still don’t feel a connection. When I was delivering the cookies, I sparked up a conversation with two of my neighbors which was lovely, but the rest are still silent. I guess I wanted the feeling Florence had of belonging, but time will tell.

Delivering the cookies was a nice feeling because I felt I was making a difference, not just for my neighbors, but mostly for myself, just like Sam. I am truly a homebody at heart, and I felt like the people of my family were the only people I could talk to and spend time with; now I know that is not the case. This whole experience has helped me to break boundaries with myself and neighbors; that is exactly what happened in the book.

I know my neighborhood has a long way to go, but it took a whole year for everyone to fully appreciate the community and garden in Seedfolks. Maybe it will take some time to for my neighborhood to adjust too. I truly feel that when you are inspired by a book you don’t stop after you’re finished reading it. Oddly enough, that is where your journey begins.

After reading Seedfolks, I realized that that was one of the first books where I had to read between the lines. It was great for me because I was constantly thinking all the time. Now, when I read I think of what the details symbolize, just like the storm and the “KEEP OUT” signs in the garden.

All because of reading Seedfolks, I have decided that no matter what part of town I live in, I will try my absolute best to form a connection with my neighbors, no matter what! That for me is what being inspired really is; I feel the book had an effect on me.

After reading Seedfolks, I have realized how deeply neighbors affect one another, and it usually starts with one little incident that changes the whole community forever. I hope someday our neighborhood will flourish just like the garden and community did on Gibb Street, and for that I thank you.

With gratitude,

Catherine Moore
North Kirkwood Middle School
Kirkwood

Second Place:

Dear Orson Scott Card,

Your book, Ender’s Game, threw me completely off guard. I never thought that in my lifetime, or my children’s, or even my great grandchildren’s lives, such astonishing cruelty could exist within any living being. Your novel thrust my eyes open to the world around me, and what could happen to it.

From the very beginning of Ender’s life, exclusion was pressed upon him, as well as fear, anger, and distrust. Even through all of this, he prevailed. He overcame untrustworthy teachers and peers to do the impossible.

As I read this book, my mind could not stop. Eyes flicking from page to page in a flurry of letters, I utterly became Ender. Surges of insuppressible emotions welled up inside of me as hailstones of anger, fear and disgust mirthlessly pummeled Ender with each sentence. I screamed at commanders, I cried for Ender, but still, the pages refused to stop turning, my eyes would not close, nothing happened unless it happened in the book.

With all of these destructive, controlling reactions, why couldn’t I stop reading? Why did I turn pages, start new chapters? Perhaps I needed something to tell me that there are things I can’t do. I can’t read people or strategize like Ender. I can’t. I was filled to the brim with envy, but still, I ruthlessly read on, oblivious to the world surrounding me.

With the conclusion of the bugger wars, I felt sorrow enveloping me just as it did Ender. I was paralyzed for what seemed like hours after the bugger home planet was destroyed. I read and reread countless passages, only to confirm my shock. I had absolutely no hope left- for Ender, or for the book’s conclusion- until Ender came to the Giant’s Skeleton. There, as he rediscovered hope for the buggers, I rediscovered my hope for new starts.

Things can get better, even when they seem as bleak as having only one being to represent a species. The sun truly does come out tomorrow. Suddenly, the world seemed so clear. All those fables, poems, and stories that every child is told, in every language, every day, concluding with the unmistakable moral, the classic words of assurance, ‘Have hope’, shattered before me. The lock had been picked, the secret released. Hope isn’t superficial enough for words. It is intangible, so powerful that is almost unfeasible to grasp. That was my problem; I had always pictured hope as a remote article, floating contentedly in an outlying sea.

Now I know, because of this book, that hope isn’t just a distant glimmer in the night sky. It is an overwhelming star, visible to all, unwavering and gallant, that proudly stands in the center of a crowd of mourners and liberates them of their sorrows by giving them a glimpse of a better future.

Sincerely,

Avery Wagner
Smithton Middle School
Columbia

Honorable Mention:

Dear Eoin Colfer,

I used to look down on everyone because I am so much smarter than practically everyone I know. I saw people study for hours to get grade I could get without studying and thought, “Man, they’re stupid.” In math class I watched people struggle on things I grasped instinctively in a matter of seconds. My goal in life was to be the smartest. Then I read the Artemis Fowl series. At first I thought it was odd that Artemis could think of no one he respected and laughed at how he baffled everyone around him, then I realized I was the same way. I looked at people who were well above average intelligence and thought they were dumb. I had been correcting teachers since the third grade so, like Artemis, I had no respect for adults.

Now that I have read the books I have thought about this a lot. I was born with a genius IQ and looked down on people who were not as fortunate. To me, that is the same as a person who inherited millions of dollars looking down on people with less money even though he didn’t work for his millions. I read about Artemis being so snotty and mean as he corrected the “experts” and realized I was no different. I was just the same when I got mad at teachers for talking about how smart someone was when they got a marginally better grade than me by studying all the time when I had practically the same grade without doing any extra work.

Now I have changed my goal in life. I no longer want to be considered the smartest. I now feel that the person who fought an uphill battle all the way to get a good grade should get more respect than me. I want to be respected for helping people with their work. I don’t think I should respect for doing the least work. When I started reading the Artemis Fowl books I was the same way Artemis was when the series started, I respected no one. Now I have learned to be more like the Artemis who, when asked if he can think of anyone he respects, says, “I can think of a few.”

Sincerely,

Lucas Showalter
Rolla Jr. High School
Rolla

Honorable Mention:

Dear Peter Abrahams,

From the second I picked up your book, Down the Rabbit Hole I knew I was in for something special. I had no idea what I was going to discover or if I would even like the story, but I felt something stirring in the back of my mind.

When I took that first, startling fall down the rabbit hole I began to realize why this journey I had come across was different. Not all my questions were going to be answered. Not every problem Ingrid encountered was going to have a full satisfying solution. Through Ingrid’s sharp eyes you showed me what a quiet little town like Echo Falls could be like underneath an unassuming surface. There were dangerous and deceptive people in Echo Falls and I wanted to catch them more than anything in the world. I was always there, right beside Ingrid, watching, discovering, and catching the murderer red-handed right along with her. You were there too, I could feel it. Every word I read was yours, but I soaked them up as if they were my own. Each sentence, every paragraph poured from the pages like golden honey and magic dust.

I finished the book and set it aside, still reeling from my trip to Echo Falls. I didn’t give it a second thought until a few weeks later when I had nothing to read and was craving a good book like hot chocolate after an icy day in the snow. That’s when my thoughts shifted back to Down the Rabbit Hole. I found that I still had questions whirling around in the back of my mind. Who? Why? Where? How? I opened the book for a second time and read through it again, scouring the pages for answers. Then suddenly, I stopped. I realized that I didn’t want to know the answers. I wanted mysteries to ponder and wonder about. I didn’t like always feeling satisfied with books that ended neat and tidy.

Your book taught me lessons I will never forget. I will always be ready for the surprises life will throw in my path. Some may be delightfully unexpected while other will turn out to be tragically heartbreaking but I will be prepared and ready no matter what happens. I also realize that not everything I question will have an answer. Some things in life are meant to be mysteries.

So I would just like to say thank you, Mr. Abrahams. Thank you for leading me down the rabbit hole.

Sincerely,

Mallory Weise
Wildwood Middle School
Wildwood