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is an anthology of work written by sixth- through twelfth-graders who participated in creative writing workshops provided by Badgerdog Literary Publishing.


COV ER AR T: Caroline Ladd is in the eighth grade at the Girls’ School of Austin. Her painting, In the Headlights, was inspired by the environment Caroline says “we all live in and must protect.”


ISSN 2156-8677

Spring 2012

BAD G ER D O G LI T ER ARY PU B LI SH I N G , I N C . , is an Austin-based nonprofit dedicated to the literary arts. We publish the work of youth and senior citizens through our creative writing workshops in the anthologies Rise, Emerge, and Transcend, and we publish the work of emerging and established writers in American Short Fiction, a national quarterly literary journal.

emerge YOUTH VOICES IN INK Volume 2, Issue 4, Spring 2012



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Emerge: Youth Voices in Ink is published bianually by Badgerdog Literary Publishing, Inc. Badgerdog Literary Publishing, Inc., Austin 78703 © 2012 by Badgerdog Literary Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Printed in Canada. ISSN 2156-8677 No part of this journal may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information write to: Permissions, Emerge: Youth Voices in Ink, P.O. Box 302678, Austin, TX 78703. All views and conclusions are those of the authors herein and not necessarily those of the editorial staff, Badgerdog Literary Publishing, its directors, officers, employees, representatives, or agents. All brand and product names listed in this book are trademarked properties. Cover: Caroline Ladd, In the Headlights.

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emerge YOUTH VOICES IN INK Volume 2, Issue 4 ■ Spring 2012

Cecily Sailer, Education Programs Manager; Jessica Wigent, Education Programs Coordinator


Shamala Gallagher, Bradley Harrison, Adeena Reitberger, Cara Zimmer


Lauren Espinosa, Nicole Fernandez, Nicole Fox, Zane Jungman, Quincy Westhuis EDUCATION PROGRAMS INTERNS


Amber Morena, Cecily Sailer, Jessica Wigent


Giuseppe Taurino


Amber Morena

Melanie Moore

Sasha West ■


Sally Simon

Angie Luck, Eric Frank, Shakeel Rashed, Kathryn Anderson, Claudette Campbell, Judith Cayton, Rhea Copening, Neena Husid, Heather Kenyon, Melanie Moore, Louis M. Earle


ADVISORY BOARD Elizabeth Crook, Deepa Donda, Mary Margaret Farabee, Joenne Grissom, C. Jones Hooks, Brad Marcus, Kristy Ozmun, Forrest Preece Jr., Cookie Ruiz, Glen Shuffler, Angela Smith, Julia Smith, Ingrid Taylor, Dean Young

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gratefully acknowledges the support of its donors and friends Applied Materials Foundation Austin Community College Austin Fit magazine Austin Groups for the Elderly AW Media Ballet Austin Bay and Paul Foundations Blanton Museum of Art BlueCross BlueShield of Texas BookPeople Burdine Johnson Foundation City of Austin Cultural Arts Division Copia Consulting Domy Books ECG Foundation Family Eldercare Fidelity Charitable Gift Fund A Glimmer of Hope Foundation Groupon’s G-Team Health’s Angels of St. David’s Foundation Impact Austin

Jewish Community Association of Austin Keith Beers and Helen Laughlin Beers Foundation Law Office of Becky Beaver Litquake Lowe Foundation MindPOP The Mitchell Group Consulting National Endowment for the Arts New Connections Poetry Festival at Round Top Rowley Insurance Agency Foundation Shield-Ayres Foundation Tate-Moore Properties Texas Book Festival Texas Commission on the Arts UT Undergraduate Writing Center Wright Family Foundation WriteByNight YMCA

Cindy Anderson Kathryn Anderson and Douglas Dempster James Armstrong and Larry Connelly Anna Brown Dan R. Bullock and Annette Carlozzi Ernest and Sarah Butler Todd and Claudette Campbell Judith Cayton Phil and Cecilia Collins Camille Cook Rhea Copening Dorothy and Nathan Cotman Elizabeth Crook Bill Dickson Bill and Donna Diggons Michael and Traci DiLeo Martha Donaldson Deepa Donde and Vinay Bhagat Ray and Mary Margaret Farabee Eric and Alice Frank Cooky and David Goldblatt Joene Grissom Louis Gwin and Rachel Parker-Gwin Richard Hartgrove and Gary Cooper Clarke and Catherine Heidrick Andrew and Mary Ann Heller Neena Husid and Hillary Miller David and Heather Kenyon Jeff rey and Gail Kodosky Jason Kramer

Susan and Craig Lubin Angie Luck and Rachel Howell Samantha and Tim McClure Carla and Jack McDonald Janet Mitchell and Emma Virjan Melanie Moore Emily Moreland and Mary Walcutt Cindy Morriss Brenda and Pete Muller Angelique Naylor Forrest Preece Jr. and Linda Ball Shakeel and Birjis Rashed Stephanie Reich Martin and Marianne Rochelle Jarrell “Tank” and Shirely Rubinett Cookie Ruiz M. F. Schenkkan Terri Schexnayder Glen Shuffler Bob and Annette Simon Sally Simon Angela Smith Frank Stephens Bill and Mary Stoner Kerry Tate and Dawn Moore Elissa Weinstein Suzanne and Marc Winkelman Bill and Sally Witliff Eva and Marvin Womack Glenys Wolff

Th is project is funded and supported in part by a grant from the Texas Commission on the Arts and the City of Austin through the Cultural Arts Division believing an investment in the Arts is an investment in Austin’s future. Visit Austin at

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Contents Foreword

Gabrielle Calvocoressi


MARTIN MIDDLE SCHOOL Introduction ■ Bradley Harrison Hospital Awesome ■ Chris Campos and David Cisneros Doom Days ■ Chris Campos and David Cisneros The Chevrolet ■ Chris Campos Nice Man ■ David Cisneros Faded Reflections ■ Ashley Peña Behind Closet Doors ■ Ashley Peña A Picture ■ Ashley Peña

1 2 3 4 4 5 6 7

OJEDA MIDDLE SCHOOL Introduction ■ Cara Zimmer Touch the Sun ■ Stephany Briceño Hell Forever ■ Stephany Briceño Sorry ■ Xoe Cesarini Mind ■ Xoe Cesarini Angels’ Words ■ Ebonie Clemons Things Not Seen ■ Ebonie Clemons Kerosene-Covered Strawberries ■ Brooke Fluker I Am Not Sorry ■ Brooke Fluker Him ■ D. Garcia X-Men: The Change ■ D. Garcia The Country and Me ■ Mercedes Gonzales The Wall ■ Mercedes Gonzales Untitled ■ José Gonzalez There’s a Brown Eagle in My Leg ■ José Gonzalez Lost ■ Kat Hallmark David ■ Kat Hallmark

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Emerge: Youth Voices in Ink

Thanksgiving Volleyball (Ballad of Aunt Carol’s Life) ■ Zachary Hicks The Backpack ■ Zachary Hicks An Unfortunate Hatred ■ Vanessa Jimenez Recovered Thought Brought From the Trash ■ Vanessa Jimenez The Unforgettable Lost Words ■ Bijou Kanyambo The Terrible, Mesmerizing Harmony ■ Bijou Kanyambo Untitled ■ Orlando Loya Untitled ■ Orlando Loya Untitled ■ Apolonia Maciel Also Called Love (Ballad of Confusion) ■ Apolonia Maciel A Fading Innocence ■ Bernie Rodríguez Who Am I, To Be Like Glass? ■ Bernie Rodríguez

25 26 27 28 29 30 31 31 32 34 35 36

MANOR EXCEL ACADEMY Introduction ■ Bradley Harrison Cursed ■ Jessalyn Boyette Cherry Blooms ■ Jewel Canada Slow Dance ■ Jewel Canada Berlin with Claws ■ Lindsay Dumas-Johnson Fragments ■ Georgina Ellison It’s Time to Let Go! ■ Georgina Ellison Love My Body Like Nature ■ Jenae Fairrow Poem #1 ■ Richard Fisher Poem #3 ■ Richard Fisher Skorn vs. Skorn ■ Austin Haney Natural Disaster ■ Shelby Haney The Assumption ■ Shelby Haney Just an Ordinary Day ■ Angela Saucedo [the snow comes and goes] ■ Shally Saucedo Fast Evaporate ■ Shally Saucedo Nocturne ■ Triana Saucedo Untitled ■ Branetta Yett

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REAGAN HIGH SCHOOL Introduction ■ Adeena Reitberger These Mountains ■ Markel Clayborne Too Much Dreaming ■ Markel Clayborne Fifteen ■ Yunivia Morales

51 52 53 54

TEXAS SCHOOL FOR THE BLIND A N D V I S U A L LY I M PA I R E D Introduction ■ Shamala Gallagher Simba, My PooBear ■ Shelby Butler Childhood Memory ■ Shelby Butler The Purpose of a Ball Charm ■ Sheralyn Fowler Ten Ways to Look at a Round Tin Can ■ Sheralyn Fowler Me ■ James Goodner Born in Darkness ■ James Goodner What I Am ■ William Gray My Trip to Italy ■ William Gray My Dad’s Giant Feet ■ Nicholas Gutierrez Hot Chocolate and Good Music ■ Nicholas Gutierrez Mask of Hidden Circles ■ Monady Ma’ani Blackness ■ Monady Ma’ani Wonder Masquerade ■ Danielle Wilkening My Name ■ Danielle Wilkening

55 56 56 57 58 58 59 59 60 60 61 61 62 63 64

Workshop Instructors


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Foreword I am a boat moving around in the ocean with heavy stuff on my back. —nata l ie a r z at e nava, per ez el e m en ta ry school


wish I’d known Natalie Arzate Nava and the other writers featured in Youth Voices in Ink when I was in elementary school. If I had, I probably would have been less lonely, and I certainly would have started writing sooner. Who wouldn’t have wanted to be like these young voices—passionate, funny, deeply engaged with the world around them? When I was growing up, I was what everyone called “a dreamer.” I lived in a rural town small enough that everyone had dinner together four times a year. My family owned drive-in and second-run theaters. In the afternoons, my grandfather would pick me up from kindergarten and we would stop over at the dinosaur park, which was mainly a giant dome covering a few huge footprints left by passing dinosaurs. I remember it being dusky like the planetarium before the lights went out and how I’d stand in that giant footprint and try to imagine what it must have looked like all those years ago. Then he’d say it was time to go, and we’d drive home over the bridge singing, “Oh, the eagles they fly high in Mobile!” and maybe he’d tell me about one of the cases he’d heard that day in his law office. At least once a week, he’d say, “If four people come in to tell you the same story, you can bet each time it will sound completely different.” I liked to think about that, though I don’t think I really understood what he meant until I got older. I wonder what it would have been like to have written the story of the giant dinosaur print and the girl who stood inside it when I was young enough to still have the gift and openness of a child’s imagination. I mean, my teachers were fine in elementary school. Mrs. Eisenstein let us sit and read for an extra hour each day. Mrs. Young had the whole class make pretend eyeglasses the day

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Emerge: Youth Voices in Ink

before I got my real ones. But like so many places back then and so many places today, there was simply a view that imagining was something you did elsewhere. Of course, I know even then there were incredible pressures on teachers to get kids to “succeed.” I remember losing whole weeks before the statewide standardized tests. We’d leave the book we were reading or the terrarium that had us all excited beyond measure and do the work of learning to take a test that wasn’t anything like the other tests we took, but one that involved Number 2 pencils and Scantron sheets and (even then) the sense that if you didn’t do well you and probably your whole school was sunk. Luckily for me, it was still a time where those weeks were the exception, not the rule. Just one long day of testing and then we were back to seeing if the salamander babies were still alive and kicking. I don’t remember us writing stories or poems. And I could have used that outlet. I can talk all I want about the giant dinosaur print, but the truth is that, like many of the students in this anthology, I had some pretty heavy stuff on my back. My mother was very sick, and I couldn’t live with her. It was something nobody talked about—one minute she’d be visiting me and the next she’d be gone for months at a time. Sometimes someone would mention “the hospital” to someone else, but I was pretty much kept in the dark. In writing that, I can see myself under the dome again with the giant footprint making walls around me. If I’d had a Badgerdog writer in my life, I might have known about metaphor so I could have said, “I am a girl lost in a dinosaur’s footprint” or “My world is like a dinosaur footprint” or “The silence in my house is like a dome closed over a dinosaur’s footprint.” One thing you’ll see as you read through these amazing pieces is how beautifully the writers use image and metaphor to help distribute the weight of very heavy stuff. Like all the best stories and poems, there’s joy and despair and rows and rows of mountains and a monkey eating a fire rock. It’s real life within these pages. It’s also a kind of dream for those of us who spend our adult lives writing and teaching. Wherever I go, people keep telling me books are dead and we need to be think-

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Foreword xi

ing of proper standards and how to help kids really get ahead. Tell that to the young writers in this book, who besides being wildly imaginative are also deeply articulate, bilingual, pragmatic, and aware of the world around them and their place in it. When I read this book I see writers, but, perhaps more importantly, I see the way good writing makes good citizens. Here, in front of you are a whole generation of Americans willing to look at the world and tell us about it with honesty and imagination, in English and in Spanish. They’re the people Walt Whitman imagined coming to meet him in the future. We can say we don’t need books and story time and monkeys eating fire rocks when we could just study harder for a test, but these students know the truth and bear it out. We are at our best when we are dreaming. I mean, that’s how we put a man on the moon. And that is one the best stories I have ever heard in my life. Gabrielle Calvocoressi

■ GAB R IELLE C ALVO CO R E SSI has published two collections of poetry. Her first book, The Last Time I Saw Amelia Earhart (Persea Books, 2005), was shortlisted for the Northern California Book Award and won the 2006 Connecticut Book Award in Poetry. Her second collection, Apocalyptic Swing (Persea Books, 2009), was a finalist for the 2009 Los Angeles Book Prize. She has been honored with a Stegner Fellowship, a Jones Lectureship at Stanford University, and a Rona Jaffe Woman Writer’s Award. She is the poetry editor for The Los Angeles Review of Books, curates the reading series Eating Our Words, and is the co-founder, of English B Records, a record label for poets. She also runs the sports desk for the Best American Poetry Blog. Calvocoressi has taught at the MFA programs at California College of Arts in San Francisco and at Warren Wilson College. She is currently a visiting professor of poetry in the English Department at the University of Texas.

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Ojeda Middle School


t became a workshop of ten or twelve, one boy among them. They sat around a tight horseshoe and filled the room with lips and hair and shoes. I liked to hear them talk about love and zombies and grief and public education and Mercedes’s line breaks. I liked to listen to the charged quiet in the room ten minutes into their writing. In their work, these middle school students remember a boy with a chili-bowl haircut, an aunt who was a honeybee, a girl in class who crossed her eyes as she drank orange juice to make them smile. They look to the future and see moss growing on big stone reminders. They see themselves buying mangoes in Wal-Mart. They see a girl who is hardened, like all the other girls in the world, and a boy whose fatness has gone with the wind. They see their cousin, killed in the war but come back to life, to the mall, with a beard and long hair. They wonder if the friend they lost thinks about them, if he thinks and remembers the clouds and the blue sky. They vow they’ll not be like their sisters. They say, “I’m your mother at the age of fourteen.” I think about the imagined child to whom that last line is addressed, how lucky she might be to one day page through the poems and sketches and artfully folded pieces of paper in Xoe’s journal, to have the opportunity I’ve had and you have now, to sneak a peak into that life. Cara Zimmer Workshop Instructor

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Emerge: Youth Voices in Ink

Touch the Sun —AF T ER


“S O N G


A child said, What is the sun? How could I explain that a sun is the most beautiful thing? I guess it must be a big ball of fire. Or I guess it’s a ball in the universe. Or I guess it’s our star. And it means that it’s the closest star to planet Earth. And now it seems to me that I could explain it more, but it would take years. It may be you who will be able to touch the sun. It may be if I had a rocket, I would go touch the sun. It may be you who has the rocket. And here you are, being warmed by the sun. This is an explanation of the sun. O I hope one day I can touch the sun. What do you think about the sun? And what do you think about touching the sun? All I want to do is touch the sun and wait till it burns my hands and feel it burn my hands. Stephany Briceño

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Ojeda Middle School


The Country and Me i. t h e c ou n t r y Rows and rows of mountains. A field of roses. A round clearing, trees at its edges. Peaceful and still. The smell of roses. Petals soft as feathers. The smell of the sea-salt air from the nearby beach. A big oak tree stands in the middle of the clearing. And under the tree, sleeping peacefully, is me. This is a place where I feel more relaxed, where I can leave all my worries behind, a place where my dreams can come true. A place I like to call the countryside.

i i. j us t t h e opp o s i t e I sit here and wonder, What would I be if I weren’t me? What if I were just the opposite of me? Here’s what I’d be: I wouldn’t be shy, but very hot-tempered. I’d be very mean at school and at home. I’d have an attitude

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Emerge: Youth Voices in Ink

and always say, “Get out of my way, dude!” I’d be disruptive, and oh, the horror— I’d hate books! I wouldn’t love to write and I’d eat junk food all the time. I wouldn’t play video games, but be very athletic. I wouldn’t like to wear jewelry and I’d always have my hair up. Worst of all, I’d pretend to be someone I’m not. As I write about just the opposite of me, I sigh in relief. Thank goodness I’m not just the opposite of me.

i i i. t h e c ou n t r y a n d j us t t h e opp o s i t e of m e If I were to leave just the opposite of me in a perfect place called the country, the first thing just the opposite of me would say would be, “Ew.” The opposite me would be easily bored. She’d throw rocks at the beautiful tree. She wouldn’t go to the nearby beach because she wouldn’t like to get wet. And just for fun, she’d stomp the field of roses. She’d wish to be in the city, riding a skateboard

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Ojeda Middle School


down the street. Just the opposite of me would die of boredom in my perfect place called the country. Mercedes Gonzales

The Wall The wall— I hate it. I run up and down to find a hole in the wall. When I find a hole and peer in, I see the most wonderful thing— you. Smiling back at me. I claw at the bricks, trying to make the hole bigger so I can go through, but it slowly gets smaller until it’s just another brick. . . . The wall wasn’t there before, when you and I met. After a while, the wall began to build up because you thought your friends wouldn’t agree with your choice. I was able to stop the building, only for it to start up again. Now, I run up and down this wall, looking for a hole or hoping you’ll come and tear down this wall, and keep it down forever. Mercedes Gonzales

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Emerge: Youth Voices in Ink

Untitled I smell nothing but food. I see my horses running. I taste Mexican chili spice and rise. I hear the dogs playing with me and with each other, and I touch my horses and my dogs. I like to ride my horses, but some have passed away. I feel like I’m in a dark place with no way out. My dad helps me with the death of my horses and my sadness. Every day that passes, I remember them. I will never forget them. I have learned to not be sad when another one passes. José Gonzalez

There’s a Brown Eagle in My Leg —



B LU E B I R D ”

There’s a brown eagle in my leg tearing and tearing pieces of flesh, but I stop him with an ice pack that cools him down all day. There’s a brown eagle in my leg making more pain in my flesh, but I help him to take deep breaths. There’s a brown eagle in my leg that wants to leave, so I let him leave for a good nightfall. José Gonzalez

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Zachary Hicks and Bernie Rodriguez, writers from Badgerdog’s Ojeda Middle School workshop, contemplate their responses to “Morning Song,” a poem by Native American poet Joy Harjo.

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When students share their writing with each other, Badgerdog classrooms become communities. At Ojeda Middle School, Brooke Fluker prepares to read aloud the work she wrote only minutes before.

Brooke Fluker and Vanessa Jimenez provide thoughtful feedback about their classmates’ writing.

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Richard Fisher performs his lyrical verses at the Manor Excel Academy site reading.

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Writers from the Texas School for the Blind and Visually Impaired pose with instructor Shamala Gallagher after their packed site reading. During their workshop, the writers visited and wrote in response to the El Anatsui

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exhibit at the Blanton Museum of Art and created nocturnes. As their teacher John Rose told us, the Badgerdog workshop was a “supportive, safe environment for the students to express themselves.�

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During Parent Weekend at the Texas School for the Blind and Visually Impaired, Nicholas Gutierrez (top) reads his humorously direct poems, and Danielle Wilkening and instructor Shamala Gallagher (bottom) share a laugh as together they perform Danielle’s poems.

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On a Sunday afternoon at Ballet Austin, Badgerdog writers, like Bijou Kanyambo of Ojeda Middle School, read their work at “In Front of Strangers I Sing,” an event in collaboration with Ballet Austin’s Light / The Holocaust & Humanity Project.

At “In Front of Strangers I Sing,” Markel Clayborne (Reagan High School), introduced by his English teacher Ryan Helgerson, responded to the work of poets who suffered imprisonment and prejudice, with their own dynamic words of empathy and hope.

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Workshop Instructors SHA MAL A GALL AG HER came to Austin from the San Francisco Bay Area, where she graduated from Stanford University and worked as a case manager for homeless families. She has lived in Austin for three years, completing her MFA at the Michener Center for Writers. Her poems have appeared or will appear in VOLT, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, The Off ending Adam, and MultiEthnic Literature of the United States, among other journals. She likes to swim and ride her bicycle, but most of the time you can find her at her kitchen table with a cup of tea, her cat sitting on top of whichever book she is trying to read. B R AD LE Y HAR R ISO N grew up in small-town Iowa and is a graduate of Truman State University. Currently a Michener Fellow at the University of Texas in Austin, he studies both poetry and fiction and is an editor for Bat City Review. His work can be found in past, current, or forthcoming issues of Gulf Coast, CutBank, Hunger Mountain, Nimrod, Columbia Poetry Review, The Off ending Adam, Memorious, and other journals. His dog not-so-recently ate his glasses. AD EENA R EI T B ER G ER was born in Baltimore, Maryland, and grew up on the outskirts of Washington, D.C. She received her MFA from Western Michigan University and is a former fiction editor at Third Coast. Currently, she teaches for Austin Community College and works as an editorial assistant at American Short Fiction. Her work is published in Nimrod International Journal, SmokeLong Quarterly, NANO Fiction, and the Sierra Nevada Review. C AR A ZIMM ER was raised on Pittsburgh’s professional sports teams and distinctive vowels. After graduating from the University of Texas with an MA in creative writing, she continues to hang around Austin, dreaming of a yard full of dogs.

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B A D G E R D O G ’ S E D U C AT I O N P R O G R A M S

teach students in grades 3 through 12 the language skills necessary to create literary art from their joy and their jeopardy. Our programming empowers students to write themselves into a literary tradition that is multinational, centuries old, and desperately needs their fresh perspectives and voices. ED I TO R IA L A N D PEDAG O G I C A L CO R R E SP O N D EN CE

The editors invite program inquiries as well as dialogue regarding creative writing pedagogy. All correspondence may be mailed to: Education Programs, Badgerdog Literary Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 302678, Austin, Texas 78703 or emailed to: SUBSCRIPTIONS

$15 for one year (2 issues); the single issue price is $10. Mail subscription checks to: Emerge: Youth Voices in Ink, Subscriptions, P.O. Box 302678, Austin, Texas 78703. Please allow 4 to 6 weeks for delivery. For questions, send an e-mail to: ADVERTISING

For advertising inquiries, please contact Sasha West at or by telephone at 512.538.1305. M A K E A CO N T R I B U T I O N

Badgerdog Literary Publishing, Inc., is a 501 (c)(3) independent, nonprofit corporation. All donations are tax-deductible as allowed by law. For donor inquiries, contact Sasha West at or by telephone at 512.538.1305. Donations may also be made online at or checks may be mailed to Badgerdog Literary Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 302678, Austin, Texas 78703. WITH SPECIAL THANK S TO

ACE 21st Century Community Learning Center, Applied Materials, Austin ISD, Ballet Austin, Blanton Museum of Art, Del Valle ISD, Impact Austin, Manor ISD, St. David’s Episcopal Church

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is an anthology of work written by sixth- through twelfth-graders who participated in creative writing workshops provided by Badgerdog Literary Publishing.


COV ER AR T: Caroline Ladd is in the eighth grade at the Girls’ School of Austin. Her painting, In the Headlights, was inspired by the environment Caroline says “we all live in and must protect.”


ISSN 2156-8677

Spring 2012

BAD G ER D O G LI T ER ARY PU B LI SH I N G , I N C . , is an Austin-based nonprofit dedicated to the literary arts. We publish the work of youth and senior citizens through our creative writing workshops in the anthologies Rise, Emerge, and Transcend, and we publish the work of emerging and established writers in American Short Fiction, a national quarterly literary journal.

emerge YOUTH VOICES IN INK Volume 2, Issue 4, Spring 2012



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Design: Rise / Emerge / Transcend  
Design: Rise / Emerge / Transcend  

I designed this series of anthologies for the nonprofit Badgerdog. They hold writing workshops for kids and older adults, taught by professi...