Given the task definition and input, reply with output. You are given a short poem which is written by a kid. Your task is to predict if the kid is in elementary school or high school. Anyone who is from grade 1st to 6th-grade will be considered as in elementary school, and 7th to 12th-grade kids will be considered as in high school. There are only two possible outputs, i.e., elementary and high. All inputs have at least one output and it cannot have both categories at a time.

through so many a puerile swell across those beneficial water of pupilage ingenuity my linen heart give way to an invisible query and bloom esteem for the craft of my fathera 's hand chafe her underside a community of aquatic dune be oft meddle cause later adulteration of the crystalline depth with cloudy detest and in the eye of every peer burn the crescent pain of souls bereft all the day my legs stood naked we ride the wave when my skin be still silken enough to feel a rapture so simple and mind still tender enough to fear the approaching plunderer and when affection of my mother come far before social premeditation yet her wooden haven have not the strength to preserve youth and even a i so desperately tried to rejuvenate such belief by repeatedly mend port and starboard to a lustrous finish time prove a natural draft of all beaded water evaporation plague my hearta 's absorption my hand grow thick with callous from row on all those windless day whereupon the lagoon my thought become just a placid and from my toil of swift stride across the cerulean cellophane come the watching of my cottage shrink away when the morning haze envelop everything but her and i. so incredibly hard my father have fashion her expanse from skeleton to decal i at length wonder why so much joy his sweaty brow bring him and when he paint her red with that meticulous pinstripe of blind yellow i have wonder why he cry a i take her out to sail for the first time he have never answer me when i question his strange action when many a year thereafter i wonder until a reply to no inquiry he could give and while grasp the small silken hand of my own son return from my fathera 's stone i saw in my offspringa 's eye the fragility of my shed youth though i be unable to maintain my childhood that so quickly become the thin sand i often watch slip through my finger perhaps by some mean i could relive my bare leg through those of my son when my life have the future to simply float instead of sail away
high