Anne Frank Essay Contest Winners

June Nelson  - 5th Grade | HLA 

Have you ever had to be really brave? There are many times that I have had to be brave and there are most likely many many times that everyone else has had to be brave. For me I have to be brave whenever somebody doesn't feel good and they think they are going to throw up. That is because I have a phobia of vomiting. Many other people have also had to be brave for instance Anne Frank had to be brave when she was living in her secret annex escaping the horrendous world for jews. If you would like to learn more about being brave and facing your fears please keep on reading. 

To begin with I have had many moments when I feel like I can't do anything because I am so afraid. Like Anne Frank I try to be brave and just go through it, but sometimes I feel so afraid. That's why I am encouraging you to keep on going and to be courageous. Many times my family members or even my classmates have not felt good and I felt like I couldn't do anything but keep thinking about it and get myself all worked up about it. But I remembered to stay courageous and I got through those hard times and so can you. 

Likewise, Anne Frank got through so many hard times in her life. She had to stay hidden in a secret annex for years, she had to be very careful and her friends and family were being taken away by officers and they didn't even do anything wrong! I know that Anne Frank stayed courageous and kept positive thoughts in her head and that was what got her through those hard times. 

Lastly, if you are not courageous enough you might start to lose hope that everything will be okay and that will make you feel even worse about the situation. That has happened to me before and it is not fun. I have felt nervous about something before, Anne Frank has definitely felt nervous about something before and you have most likely felt nervous about something before. Maybe you didn't want to go on a scary ride or maybe you didn't want to face your fears. Whatever you are nervous about please keep in mind that everything will be okay and make sure to have courage. In conclusion, make sure to stay courageous in hard situations and help others to build a community of courage. If you have not read the Diary of Anne Frank please read it (It is one of my favorite books) and while you read it please notice how she had courage during hard times. During those hard times please realize that you need a lot of courage so stay strong and don't give up.

Nevaeh Mullennix - 7th Grade 

In a world full of violence, destruction, and chaos; we can choose to find peace, love, and strength. When things get hard, we rely on the people around us. Whether it's with ourselves or the world that surrounds our lives. Who we are as a community impacts the life around us. In Anne Frank's story, she chose optimism in a time when it was near impossible to believe anything good could happen. 

During hardships or times of struggle, people will either come together and help one another, or will turn their backs on everyone. If we all work together, during those times, we can make it through. One person can accomplish a lot, but a community of people who want to help can change everything. I think we all take the people around us for granted because they can help us in ways we never thought we would need. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses and if we put them together, we can accomplish goals no one person could, so why don't we? 

In a good community, you could see clean streets, happy people, and good relationships. My question is, why do people choose not to go for that? Maybe we're too scared to try, or we simply just don't care. How come the only time I notice people coming together is when something bad happens? Why do we leave our world, or even our city, mediocre when it could be so much better? Why can't we help each other even when things are going well? 

My great grandpa, Leo Edgar Green, was a soldier and a POW in World War II. He was in the Air Force and served as a radio operator in the 458th Bombardment Group and a Morse Code operator. He was also a sergeant. He faced many troubles during the time he was there. He wrote about it around 60 years later, recounting everything he went through during his time in the concentration camp. Sadly, he died before he could finish it. However, we have some of his rough drafts from what he was writing.

On September 11, 1944, my great grandpa and his crew were hit by flak as they were flying over Koblenz, Germany on a mission for a synthetic oil plant in Magdeburg. Their wing gas tank was on fire and they were given the orders to bail out. After he was safely on the ground, he made a small trail with his chute and his shoes as he was taught in basic training. He saw someone across the street and ducked behind some bushes, trying to cover himself with leaves. However, when he glanced up, there was a double barreled shotgun pointed at his head. That was the beginning. 

He was taken away. He was placed in a jail cell after a while with some of the people from his crew. He was interrogated and eventually brought to a camp. There were two barbed wire fences that stood ten feet tall that surrounded the camp he was in. He was put into Stalag Luft 4 along with a few of his friends and crewmates, Ralph, James, and Nathan. 

On February 6, 1945, they were marched out of the camp for the Death March. It was supposed to be a three day trip, but it ended up turning into 80 days for him. My Great Grandpa said on one of the pages, "One evening we had stopped to sleep in an old abandoned factory and it was still light out. Now there was a brick smokestack there which was around forty feet tall and some of OUR OWN light or medium weight bombers came towards us dropping their bombs... " He remembers being liberated by the American soldiers. He said, "On the evening of April twenty fifth 1945 we were told by the German Guards that we would be going through their own lines tonight and that we should be as quiet as possible. On April 26th as we came in, there was a German guard walking beside me and an American soldier snatched the gun off of his shoulder and said, "you won't be needing this anymore." He ejected the bullets from it, smashed the butt on the ground and threw it in a heap of guns already there. The tears rolled down my cheeks, it was over and I knew that I would be going home. That was one of the happiest moments of my whole life." 

He also went on to email people or family members of the people he was in war with. In one of his emails that he printed out he said, " ... As for traveling I do very little since I am alone. My journeys are to the grocery store and back. I had my youngest son and his 2 teenagers living with me for awhile but am now living alone and enjoying it very much." He was a man who went through a lot. However, he never let it hold him back. 

My great grandpa was a very courageous man. From dropping out of school in the 10th grade to enlisting for the war when he was 18, he's proved himself many times. After the war he went on to marry a woman named Patricia Rose Myrick and have fifteen children, with one dying at the age of two weeks old. He supported his family off of a janitorial salary for cleaning the Saint Francis De Sales Catholic church, to which he was a member of. 

He died of old age on October 4th, 2018. He was nine days away from being 94. I can learn a lot from him in many ways. Just like Anne Frank did, he found ways to have courage when it was impossible. He fought through the war and came out on the other side stronger than before. Without the people around him, his community, his life would've been 10 times harder than it already was. This just goes to show how the people you're around can shape your life. 

From him, I can learn how to love, stick up for myself, and most importantly, learn to be brave when I can't seem to find it in me. He may not be here, but I will always try my best to live up to his honor and make him proud. 

Skyana Chiv  - 10th Grade 

In my experience, courage is being brave without realizing it. It's doing something you're afraid to do, not because it is hard, but because you have to. It is not something you consciously think about but something that springs to you in the moment. 

Spongebob plays on the TV screen, and I lie in bed. My stomach growls, still hungry from the dinner I never had. Outside is dark, and we are deep into the night. I shouldn't be up right now. I know my dad would be upset. But here, it doesn't matter. My mommy doesn't care. And that's all that matters. 

The blanket wraps around me and my brother, shielding us from the stiff, cold air. It is humid under the blankets, almost stuffy with another body next to me. But I can't take the blanket off, it's too cold. Or, more accurately, I'm too scared. 

Memphis, my brother is already fast asleep. Being three, he doesn't understand. Maybe I am a bit jealous of him. I wish I could sleep like how he did, so peacefully and still. He doesn't realize how good it feels to be taken care of. It may be a bit selfish of me, but I envy his ignorance. 

He doesn't understand how nice it feels to be fed every day, not worrying about whether someone cares to feed us. He doesn't understand that the piles of clothes building up against the walls, the unwashed sheets, and the constant smell of cigarettes aren't normal. He doesn't understand that a dad shouldn't disappear and come back when he feels like it, and a mommy should love you no matter what, not only when it benefits her. 

I jump when I hear a loud pounding on the front door. Who would be here late at night? There are panicked voices outside of the bedroom door. I recognized the voices, my mommy and my brother's dad. 

Glass breaks, and more yelling ensues, muffled by the closed door, protecting my mind from the view. There is one voice, an angry one. That is from Tremel, my mom's ex-boyfriend. Then there was another voice, a desperate one. That is my mommy, begging for him to stop. And I lose my voice, frozen in fear and worry. 

The sounds of scuffling and pained yells pierced through my body, sending cold chills down my spine and panic through my veins, making the warmth of the blankets disappear.

My body reacts almost by itself. My mind is too numb to think, to even form a coherent thought. But still, my arms wrap around my brother-my baby brother. I pull Memphis tight against me, covering his ears. 

I keep him under the blanket as if this flimsy material can protect him from the dangers standing just outside that door. It is almost an instinct to keep him safe, even if I couldn't comprehend how to keep myself safe. 

The yelling only grows louder. I can hear the screams, the cursing, the violence that is only hidden by a singular door and walls. I've never understood the fear that people explain where it consumes you. Until now. I've never felt so lost, so weak, and so helpless. It's a feeling I can't describe, one that a child shouldn't have to explain. 

The bedroom door knob turns and creaks open. My body tenses, freezing up as I cling to my brother tighter, trying to hide him from view. Maybe I can save him. 

But it isn't Tremel or even my mommy. It's a guy I've never seen before in my life. He has an almost sad look on his face when he sees who I am. Perhaps he regrets allowing his friend to beat my mommy and my brother's dad. He stares at my face and I don't know what to do. I can't cry; I feel numb. Spongebob continues to play in the background, drowning out the silence between us.  

"I'm sorry y'all." 

That is all he says before closing the door. 

Back then, I thought he was a good guy who truly felt sorry for us. But now, what he said doesn't mean anything. How can he be sorry and still let it happen? His lack of action contradicts his apology, and now I realize that he wasn't any kind of comfort or help; he was a coward. 

I was the one who showed courage that night. Even though I didn't do it consciously, my concern went straight to my baby brother, who was ignorant of what was happening around him. The second I wrapped my arms around him, shielding his body with mine against the threat that stood right outside that door, I displayed my own definition of courage. Courage isn't projecting yourself louder and overcoming a fear. It is recognizing that someone else needs you and pushing yourself in front of those fears to protect what and who you love. Courage doesn't shout at you, encouraging you to speak up. It simply acts.