The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary

Laura Shovan’s "The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary" is a middle-grade novel that’s anything but your average classroom story. Told entirely through poems penned by eighteen diverse fifth graders, it’s a snapshot of a community on the brink of losing its heart: their school. Emerson Elementary isn’t just a building; it’s a patchwork of memories, friendships, and personal struggles. When news breaks that the school will be demolished to make way for a supermarket, the kids don’t just sit back and accept it. Instead, they channel their confusion, fear, anger, and hope into poetry—and activism.

What makes this book click isn’t just the novelty of telling a story through verse. It’s the raw, unfiltered voices of kids who are grappling with real issues. There’s Edgar Lee Jones, a biracial poet who’s as passionate about words as he is about saving their school. Norah Hassan, fresh off the boat from Jerusalem, wrestling with cultural clashes and bullying but slowly finding her voice. George Furst, whose family situation is falling apart, steps up by running for class president—not for popularity, but to make a difference. Then there are the Costley twins, Sloane and Sydney, navigating their own sibling rivalry and identity struggles, and Gaby Vargas, whose Spanish poems get translated by a friend, showing how language can both separate and unite.

Each kid’s poem is a window into their world, revealing personal battles alongside the bigger fight to save Emerson. Mark Fernandez is mourning a father he just lost, finding solace through music and band mates. Brianna Holmes faces homelessness but still fights to protect the place where she feels safe. Even the so-called "mean girls," Hanna and Shoshanna, show growth as they learn what community really means. The teacher, Ms. Hill, is the quiet force encouraging these kids to express themselves and believe their voices matter.

The conflict is twofold: there’s the obvious external threat of losing their school and the internal struggles each kid faces. The demolition is a metaphor for change—sometimes unwanted, sometimes painful. But it also sparks a sense of resilience and activism. The students band together, showing that even at ten or eleven, you can stand up and make noise.

Stylistically, the novel shines because it doesn’t stick to one poetic form. You get haikus, limericks, free verse, and more, each fitting the personality of the kid writing it. It’s refreshing—like flipping through a mixtape of voices rather than a single, polished narrative. The atmosphere balances nostalgia for what’s being lost with a hopeful buzz of possibility. You can feel the kids’ frustration and determination in every line.

The reader experience is intimate and varied. Because you’re inside so many heads, empathy comes easy. You’re reminded that every kid has a story, and those stories are messy, complicated, and worth hearing. Plus, the book includes a neat little toolkit of poetic forms and writing prompts, nudging readers to try their own hand at poetry. It’s not just a story; it’s an invitation to speak up.

But don’t expect a neat, Hollywood ending. This is real life through kids’ eyes: full of ups and downs, partial victories, and hard truths. Some characters grow more than others, some conflicts resolve, others simmer. That’s the point. Shovan isn’t selling fairy tales; she’s showing how community and self-expression can be powerful tools—even if they don’t always fix everything.

In a world where children’s voices are often background noise, "The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary" hands them the mic, and it’s a messy, beautiful chorus. It’s a book that’s as much about finding your voice as it is about what happens when a community fights to hold onto its roots amid change.