The Bell View
Letter From the Editor
Dear Readers,
Like many things, life moves in cycles - marked by the excitement of new beginnings and the bittersweet farewell to the moments we will never get back. Change carries both beauty and sadness, reminding us to cherish important moments and pay attention to the small details while releasing the past and embracing what lies ahead. “New Beginnings” was chosen as the theme to explore this delicate relationshipappreciation of the past and courage for the future. Through poetry, prose, photography, and art the issue captures nostalgia, loved ones, life’s challenges and beauties, and more. May these works inspire you to reflect on your journey and find meaning in every phase of change.
Sincerely,
Gretchen Grenier Editor-in-Chief
Table Of Contents
“A Journey Through Tides” - Kalia Thorne
Photography - Blaine Holdeman
Photography - Hazel Delongpre
Journal Entry - Yiyan Pei
Photography - Alexander Schoenherr
“Rose and Thorns” - Marisol C. Mills
Photography - Bosco Delgado
“The Thereafter” - Seda Kleinschmidt
“Change” - Marisol C. Mills
Photography - Dylan Shomes
“Unfinished Stories” - Phil Eukel
“Drawn At Morrow Bay” - Mike Chapman
Comic - Coulter Kawaja
Blue Jeep - Gretchen Grenier
“A Journey Through Tides”
By Kalia Thorne
The tide changes as the ocean turns that deep color blue,
The change in the water changes just like you.
People come and people go; water ebbs and water flows.
Waves crash on the sand, then retreat to the sea. The wind whispers softly, “You are so free.”
The sky shines with bright golden sun; Your kindness glows like the world just begun.
Memories linger like shells, your stories untold. Soon the moon will rise, and the air will become cold.
As the color silver becomes our light, The moon will guide us travelers through the night.
In the depth of the sea, secrets reside. Like the tides in our hearts, they shift with the tide.
To embrace change, the currents set you free, For in every twist and turn you'll find there's true harmony.
By Blaine Holdeman
In this first photo, the warm colors of the sunset fill the sky, casting a soft glow over the building and landscape. It captures a peaceful moment where the day fades away, making space for the night to begin. This transition between light and dark reflects the idea of New Beginnings, reminding us that each ending naturally brings the promise of something fresh. The glow in the windows shows that life goes on inside, just as the world outside changes, shows that growth and renewal are always happening, even in quiet moments.
The second photo shows a broader view of the campus and sky as the sun dips below the horizon, lighting up the clouds in shades of pink and purple. This view captures the calmness of an evening settling in, a reminder that each day is part of a larger cycle of change and renewal. The open sky and fading light represent how every day offers a new beginning, encouraging us to embrace change. The sky’s vibrant colors fading to dusk invite us to reflect on how beautiful transitions can be, even when they are subtle and gradual.
Winnie the Pooh said, “You have to leave where you're from to get where you're going.” My Grandma and Mom would always read me these books, but I didn't know they were preparing me for the hard decisions I would make for my future. I’ve learned the more difficult way that you have to forgive people and move on from what they may have done to you if you want to get on with your life. Admitting to yourself that you were wronged and moving past that is the first and biggest step to moving on completely. At the end of the day, you will always be there. Make decisions for yourself. If you try and make other people happy all your life you will never be happy. If you need to get to college you need to finish high school. Humans are meant to Move. Since humans have originated we have always moved around for the convenience of survival. Moving on is how you survive.
By Hazel Delongpre
By Yiyan Pei
I am Yiyan Pei, an international student from Shandong, China, in Dunn and I studied in Shanghai in middle school alone. When I first arrived at Dunn, I was unfamiliar with the surroundings and I did not know any of the students at Dunn. Feelings of nervousness and strangeness filled my mind. I was not talkative in both class time and break time. During my free time, I only wanted to talk with my Chinese friends. However, I spent two months successfully adapting to this environment. I no longer feel stressed and enjoy spending time with many new friends. Also, I learned and experienced a lot during the OE trip. Now, Dunn has become my home away from home in this foreign country.
By Alexander Schoenherr
Stepping off the bus, at Dunn School with a pause to close the door. Bosco looked at the campus with its blend of fields and buildings placed in the hills of Los Olivos. Despite anticipating this moment for months the actual experience seemed dreamlike and slightly intimidating. Dunn School seemed like its own universe and he was navigating his way through it slowly but surely.
Later that day, Bosco found a quiet bench overlooking the campus and called his family. The familiar voices brought comfort, grounding him as he watched students crossing the grounds with confidence he didn't yet feel. He promised his family he’d be fine, even as he wondered how long it would take to settle in.
It all began to change when he encountered Collin. A fellow student who gave him a tour of the place. Collin pointed towards the soccer field bustling with practice activities. Boscos face lit up with joy at the idea of participating and playing soccer again. Suddenly the campus appeared less strange and distant.
When a player twisted their ankle during the game, Bosco was the first to help by rushing over and offeringassistancebygoing downononekneetohelp out with untying his shoe. In that moment something within him changed. A feeling of belonging as if he had finally found his place where he truly belonged. Dunn was slowly transforming into more than a school to him. It was starting to feel like home.
“Rose and Thorns”
By Marisol C. Mills.
By Bosco Delgado
The train station was silent, eerie, and sad. He simply observed into the horizon wondering why he was there. He didn’t want to leave home. In fact, he had been trying to avoid this moment for a few weeks now. But sometimes, life simply violently pushes you into doing that decision, that while hard, has to be taken.
The creaking of the train advancing through the railroad echoed in his mind. Images of his family, friends, memories were bouncing inside his head. He was about to bury them forever. The sound of the train intensified, until, after a high pitched creak, it came to rest, its doors opening in front of him, as if inviting him into a new life, a new world. It was the moment to leave everything behind.
As he was stepping into the train, he took a last, deep breath in what until that moment was his life. However, as he inhaled, a feeling of hope bursted through his chest, like an air pump breathing life into a deflated ball, giving it a second chance.
He woke up in the train some hours after stepping into this life-changing adventure. His eyes caught the first rays of the sunrise as the first hints of dawn began to paint the sky in soft strokes of light blue, pink, and gold. He watched the darkness fade away, swallowed by the beautiful landscape that laid beyond. Then he understood. This sunrise wasn’t just the beginning of a new day; it was the beginning of a new life.
“The Thereafter”
By Seda Kleinschmidt
A grip strengthens against the touch of soft skin. Not physical, But very much palpable.
Blue eyes discoloured from the green of the soul.
Hair grayed by lonely and long nights.
The grip softened with an, “I love you,” And tightened from a, “But.”
But I don’t want to look at a plethora of colours in one’s eyes.
But I don’t want you to need to dye your hair.
But I don’t want to feel strange when I estrange those who I love.
But I want the freedom of thought. A thought of the colour of my eyes. A thought of the colour of my hair.
And a thought of whom I say, “I love you,” to.
One in which I loosen and cast away the grip from my skin. It lacks the softness and is marked with a red print
A colour which represents the “thereafter” of green and grey.
Forever a mark will reside on the roughened skin.
And, “I love you,” will be sheltered and hidden for some time.
But a pair of pure blue eyes will find me. They will shelter me.
“I love you.”
The hug tightens.
“Change”
By Marisol C. Mills
Change is something that is present in our day-to-day lives. Whether we see it, or not, accept it or don’t, it is always here beside us. A constant friend, or a constant enemy, a constant companion and a shadow that follows you everywhere you go and through everything. You can always rely on it to be there, even if it may not at times be visible. Change means to both lose and gain things, to experience growth and setbacks. To be able to flow with change, you need both the ability to enjoy the sunny day and weather the storms. This is something that all of us may experience throughout our existence and a skill not all of us have. A grim reaper ready to ensnare you in its grasp when you least expect it. Change is different for everyone, it can be a huge event, or a small event, a major presence or a vague not so clear presence, from a small argument with a barista in a coffee shop about getting your order wrong, to the passing of a loved one, from growing up and old, to the changing of the seasons and the passing of time. No matter how change shows itself, we know for a fact that it affects all of us in one way or another. Whether that is a positive or negative thing. We are two different people from the time when we are born and the time we take our last breath on this earth. This proves that both the big and small things, the moments we consider important or insignificant, all matter for the creation of who we are in the end of it all. Because of change, we are given the opportunity to have a new beginning every day, but what really matters is what you decide to do with this natural gift, and how you choose to live your life with these factors.
By Dylan Shomes
A story that really inspires me is Giannis Antetokounmpo. He grew up in Greece with his three brothers. Growing up in Greece Giannis' family was very poor. His family also dealt with heavy racism. His story has inspired me because of how much change and adversities he went through. The first time Giannis was ever in the U.S was in 2013 when he was drafted by the Bucks. To think that he had never been in the US until he was drafted is crazy to me because the shock of being in Greece one day, and the next being in America is a huge change. Although he went through this huge change coming to America he pushed through it to win an MVP and became an NBA champion. This shows that even though you might go through something new or hard you can always push through it and become something great.
Unfinished Stories
By Phil Eukel
Often, as students leave my classroom, I wonder whether anything took root or - if it did - how they might go on to apply their learning. I have heard this phenomenon called ‘planting seeds’. Rarely do students circle back to share how a lesson changed their perspective or how a newly acquired skill served them. Similarly, the web of our lives is so complex, I doubt anyone could ever definitively foresee the full impact of any lesson, class, or teacher. Steve Jobs spoke to this uncertainty and inexactness in his 2005 Stanford commencement address. Jobs shared how, though it didn’t have “a hope of any practical application”, he shadowed a calligraphy class at Reed. Over a decade later, that same class on the “subtle artistry” of calligraphy helped build the foundation of the first Macintosh computer’s typography. So, as teachers, we plant seeds and hope they grow into something wonderful. As part of my English 11 curriculum, students started every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with fifteen minutes of independent reading. The expectation was that each student would read at least one book of their choosing by the end of the semester. The goal was to increase the breadth of student reading while offering students choice, which in turn might hopefully motivate further reading. Or, to paraphrase a fellow educator, to see if the right book in the right hands could spark ‘life-long learners’. To facilitate this, about every two weeks I would walk the class over to the library to renew or exchange their independent reading books. The students always responded with a low monotone ‘yaaay’ when I would announce it was library day, as it meant less ‘teaching’.
I found William in the library’s fantasy section. William had returned his book every time we went to the library. Nothing had caught his interest yet. Curious, I asked him if he was looking for anything in particular. He simply replied, “No. I just like the cool art.” A sworn fantasy genre fan, I began pulling titles off the shelf and giving him summaries. He settled on The Name Of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. A stellar choice. As we walked back to class, I realized I needed to warn him - it was an unfinished trilogy. Fantasy lovers at large had been waiting for the third book for over a decade. I felt it was imperative he knew this, so that he didn’t get hit by the same disappointment I had felt. He replied, “Really? Huh,” and gave me a look that suggested he did not find this information particularly important.
After each independent reading session, students recorded the page at which they had stopped and the number of pages they had read. I had hoped it would provide some accountability and nudge students to finish their book by the end of the semester. After a Monday session, William waved me over to his desk. “Look!” he said excitedly, pointing to his reading log. Confused, I scanned the page. The numbers held a relatively steady pattern: Monday - (10 pages, p. 45) Wednesday - (11 pages, p.56) Friday - (10 pages, p.66) Then, I read today's entry: Monday - (12 pages, p.178) The page numbers skipped. He had read the same amount in class, but something had happened over the weekend. “I read more than a hundred pages over the weekend,” he exclaimed, “It’s so good!” I was deeply grateful that William had decided to share.
The semester passed quickly. As a class, we marched through the curriculum, reading closely, writing precisely, and thinking critically. Until suddenly, there were two days left until summer. On this particular Wednesday, there was a feeling of celebration in the air. William and a few of the other students had brought warm, fresh chocolate chip cookies from their culinary class to English. And, it was our final library day. As I bounced from student to student, scrutinizing my class checkout list and attempting to ensure every book got returned before the summer, I noticed William chatting with the head librarian. Before I could think anything further, I was distracted by a student discovering their overdue book deep in the caverns of their backpack. As I gathered the students to head back to the classroom, I glimpsed William slide The Wise Man’s Fear - book two of the trilogy - into his backpack. I didn’t know you could check books out for the summer. I wondered if cookies had been involved; I wondered how he would feel when he finished the second book; I wondered what this seed might grow into.
“Drawn At Morrow Bay”
By Mike Chapman
By Coulter Kawaja
Blue Jeep
By Gretchen
Grenier
The Jeep coughed awake each morning
Dad let it idle in the driveway to warm up
We raced out the door trying to win shotgun
The black blanket in the back, warming second place
My hair whipped wild as we rattled down Refugio.
CDs fill the aluminum shell with unforgettable melodies
Our screaming voices search for the right key
The soft top roof flaps once we reach 60
Noses run as we shiver, the heater only charing our feet
The thermometer, stuck in Celsius teaches us morning math.
It’s smooth seat covers appropriately cheap, oak leaves falling and making piles in the back, Slamming the trunk extra hard, to keep it really closed. The chipped black fenders, sun bleaching them light gray, The center console, filled with dozens of the best albums.
First, it was winding curves, helping spot tarantulas, singing to U2, Then, as elementary led to middle it still flexed strong, Our feet on its tires as we piled in the back. And then when middle led to high school, its age began to show. It smiled gently through the cracks as we blasted songs, Musically inferior but making memories superior.
Day after day, It idled outside my window, under the oak, warming up, awaking, I thought it would always be waiting for me, I thought it would drive forever, I thought, I thought, I thought, But engines fail, roads end, and even the best songs fade out on their final note