Calliope 2018

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CALLIOPE

Calliope Calliope is an annual student literary arts magazine presenting creative writing, poetry, two-dimensional, and three-dimensional works of art created over the course of the 2017-2018 year.

The Visual Arts and Literary Journal of Marianapolis Preparatory School Thompson, Connecticut 1

Editors

Editors: Olivia Duncan ’19, Bridget O’Leary ’18, Ana Cristina Rabines ’19 Selection Committee: Visual Art Lily Alessandro ’20 Marielle Caparso ’20 Danielle Collette ’19 Olivia Duncan ’19 Alyssa Harvey ’18 Lily Madden ’19 Ana Cristina Rabines ’19 Samuel Roy ’19 Elisabeth Villa ’18 Ciara Wells ’18 Writing Meghan Brooks ’19 Eve Listerud ’20 Bridget O’Leary ’18 Jillian Ormerod ’19 Ana Cristina Rabines ’19 Niamh Raftery ’20 Johanna Sullivan ’19 Peyton Surprenant ’19 Gabrielle Wood ’19 Cover Art Linh Mai ’19 Faculty Advisor Caitlin Dembkowski A special thank you to: Sue Andersen, Shelley Blair, Meghan Cavanaugh, Monika Chojnacki, David DiCicco, Joe Hanrahan, Steve Poirot, Rachel Rogers, Pam Ruff, Kellie Ryan, Dylan-Ernst Schäfer, Robin Stanley, and Karen Tata.

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Creativity is one of the greatest gifts a person could have. It is by thinking creatively that we make progress, that we solve the world’s problems, and that we see the beauty in everyday life. Our world is made of billions of perspectives, and it is because we are creative that we are not restricted to only seeing it from one.

One way people show others their perspective is through art. Whether it is a photograph of two friends sharing a smile, a poem about self-acceptance, or a painting of a beautiful landscape, a piece of art is an artist’s perspective made tangible. Art is much more than merely brushstrokes or words; it is a part of the artist’s soul— something from the very core of their being.

Though it takes creativity to transform an idea or a memory into something someone else can experience, it takes courage to share it with others. In Calliope and at Marianapolis, we are lucky to have a multitude of creative students brave enough to share their art. Within these pages are tiny fragments of other people’s souls, stitched together by raw emotion and the desire to create.

Each piece in this magazine offers an opportunity to see life from a different perspective, some of which you may find surprising. Each piece is a small sliver of someone else’s world, and these glimpses might cause you to change the way you think about the people around you. Calliope is a window into a world made of perspectives, and as you look through it, remember how strange and how wonderful it is that you will never see the entire house.

Bridget O’Leary ’18

(Left) Jiwon Chun ’18 5

“Generations” Lily Alessandro ’20

(Left) Wing Yin (Theo) Li ’18 7

Ad Astra

By Bridget O’Leary ’18

I. you are young the first time you learn of the stars. your small chubby fingers grasp at yellowed pages—your mother left you alone with a book, a real book, thinking you could not possibly reach the ancient tome from where you sat huddled beneath the table. how foolish she had been, to believe you would not try. you are told they used to shine scattered in the night sky like diamonds stitched to black silk. the stories of old are filled with them, and you mourn their loss.

II. you are young the first time you learn of religion. your slender gloved fingers carefully guide a magnifying glass over a missive from the first millennium, the elegant script describing god. the word tastes strange in your mouth but your heart trembles at its sound and you want more, more, more. there are tears on your face when you reach the document’s end, knowing that this creature died long ago. you wonder if god died at the hands of the same monster that killed the stars.

III. you are young the first time you learn of other gods. you find them carved into stone and inked onto paper, conflicting images with the same name. you are captivated by this primordial world where the divine walked among the mundane, where a creature could be recognized in all its different forms across cultures, across time. you long to see a god, to feel its power thrum within you, to believe in it as did your ancestors. but perhaps you already do—you speak of the stars with the same reverence that was once reserved for deities. you find the word "heaven" and think that god must have loved the stars as you do, or it would not have made them its home.

(Left) Julia DiNoia ’18 9

IV. you are older the first time you learn of the dying sun. you hear whispered rumors that it is burning out, and with it the planet will perish. some people are stunned, but you know better. you have been studying the deaths of stars all your life. you imagine that this is the last star alive. it has remained the sole light of the universe, and when it is gone, nothing will remain.

V. you are old the first time you see the darkness. your entire life has been spent in the light, and in the beginning you are frightened by its sudden absence. people are screaming and shrieking but you, you are laughing. smiling. crying. you look up at the sky and for once it is not the hazy gold of artificial light. you can see the stars, more brilliant and beautiful than you ever dreamed. you now know why the ancients saw god when they looked at the night sky. you fall to your knees, arms spread open, and you know this is your end. but the stars will still burn, and you die with their light in your eyes.

(Right) Chiara Faiola ’21 10

Carousel

By Ana Cristina Rabines ’19 i cling to your memory like an old childhood toy i tell your story like my favorite book i cry sometimes like a sad song i smile for you like the sun rising i think of you like a picture i can't forget i hold you in my heart like a mother holds her son i feel you with me like the breeze blowing softly i love you like only a granddaughter can. cling,

tell,

cry,

smile,

think,

hold,

feel,

love.

this is my cycle of grieving.

(Right) Chiara Faiola ’21 13

as you drive for hours on end

By Gabrielle Wood ’19 as you drive for hours on end and your eyes blur from only looking forward remember to take in what you’re looking toward

as the lights in your eyes focus in and out and the darkness of the sky contrasts remember to take in the beauty, it goes by fast

as the buzzing from the motor becomes a melody and makes every other noise sound distant remember to take in the loud silence as its constant

and as your thoughts bring you somewhere else, the ideas of a better life overcome you remember to take in how beautiful real life is, be one of the few.

(Left) Linh Mai ’19 15

Contemplation of Lent

By David Mankarios ’21

We pray but never contemplate, We fast but never meditate.

Since the Lord is so great, This should not be our fate.

The glory of man shall fade away, But the glory of God will always stay.

Therefore, in secret we should give, And in the Heavenly Jerusalem we will live.

(Left) Samuel Roy ’19 17

Yaxuan (Lisa) Xu ’20

(Left) Olivia Duncan ’19 19

Sabrina Godin ’18

it seems like just yesterday,

By Gabrielle Wood ’19 it seems like just yesterday loneliness was the only concept understood where so many people were there but not one sticking, taping life together it seems like just yesterday words were not between each other never a glance in the same direction and never an encounter it seems like just yesterday the first words left frosted lips smiles finally reaching the faces of the damaged laughter sounding new and exciting it seems like just yesterday rocks were thrown in the water wishing bad wouldn’t come to good people that the world was fair yet vengeful in aspects now sitting here looking back life throws obstacles like the rocks and they wouldn’t be resolved if yesterday wasn’t a day

Meghan Brooks ’19, Serena Godin ’20, and Lauren Makie ’20

Michael Acquaah-Harrison ’20

Yaozhong (Evan) Hu ’19

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Ciara Wells ’18

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The Hill

By Bridget O’Leary ’18 Last night I dreamed that I was walking through a forest. The trees were a rustling inferno overhead, but there was not a single leaf on the ground. Though there was no path, I knew where I was going. I walked for what could have been hours or seconds, an infinity or an instant, until I came to a hill. The grass was vibrantly green, almost unnaturally so, and it waved slowly in a gentle wind heady with the scents of unseen flowers. This was a sacred place, a haven governed by an ancient, powerful magic that settled deep into your bones and never left you. It was terrifying and beautiful and eternal, and I was a part of it.

I did not think much of the dream when I awoke. I had had many strange dreams before. What was so different about this one?

As the day wore on, I found my mind drifting again and again to the peculiar place I had visited in my dreams. There I was calm and at peace with the world. I did not know where the mysterious hill was located or if it existed at all, but I wished to return. And return I did.

Every night for thirteen nights I dreamed of the same thing: the forest, eerie for a reason I could never remember; the walk, purposeful and dazed, an invisible path I knew by heart; and lastly, the hill, somehow threatening and welcoming in the same moment.

I spent my waking hours obsessing over the hill. I could think of nothing else. During the day I fell into a sort of trance; I ate little, spoke little, and paid little attention to anything I did. My mind was in the forest, wandering, wandering, and I could not find my way out.

(Left) Chenxi (Ellen) Liu ’20

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Fourteen days after I first had the dream, I left work as usual. I got into my car, turned on the engine, and pulled onto the highway. I drove for fifteen minutes before taking my exit and continuing on the road for what felt like an unusually long time. It was then that I realized there were no other cars on the road and I did not recognize my surroundings.

I momentarily panicked. I must have taken the wrong exit and not realized it.

How had that happened? I pulled over to the side of the road and tried to turn on my GPS. No signal.

I pulled out my cell phone and tried to call one of my friends. No signal.

A lump welled in my throat and I felt my heart rate quicken. There was no reason for me to feel as afraid as I did—I had gotten lost plenty of times before— and yet I could not keep my hands from trembling. I was alone, I had no idea where I was, and I had no way to contact anyone. My eyes stung as tears threatened to fall.

I decided to drive until I found another person or another road to turn onto.

I pulled myself together and pulled back onto the road. I had never been so terrified in my life.

I do not know how long I continued on like that. The road was monotonous and the sun’s position in the sky did not seem to move. I looked at the clock on my dashboard. 5:27.

I drove on and nothing changed. The pavement was rough and in some places broken; plants threatened to take back their land on both sides of the road and tree branches hung dangerously low overhead. The leaves were gilded crimson and the underbrush was a vibrant green. Everything was quite beautiful, but the consistency of my surroundings was unnerving. I checked my dashboard. 5:27.

I almost crashed the car. I knew for certain that it had been more than a minute since I last checked the clock. It could not possibly still be 5:27.

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Perhaps the clock was broken, but that had never happened before. I could not force myself to believe it was a coincidence. The lump in my throat grew and I had difficulty swallowing.

As I continued to drive, I tried to regulate my breathing. Everything is okay everything is okay everything is okay I told myself over and over. I knew it was a lie.

It was the only thing I knew with certainty.

I drove on and on and on for what felt like hours but according to my clock was no time at all. I noticed that I was becoming dangerously low on gasoline. So far, I had not seen a turn off or any sign of human life. My panic grew.

I felt my engine sputter and began to cry in earnest. When the car stalled, I sat in the driver’s seat sobbing in the middle of the road. After a while, I had used up all my tears and could cry no more. The clock was still not working. 5:27.

I knew that nothing would happen if I stayed in my car. I would not be saved, and eventually the granola bars and water bottles I kept in the back seat would run out and I would starve. I also knew that getting out of the car could lead to a violent demise by any number of nameless monsters. I opened the door.

There was a path leading into the forest on the left side of the road.

Hesitantly, I stepped onto it.

I felt dread bubbling in my stomach. I barely heard my footsteps as I walked.

I barely heard my breathing, and I could not hear my heartbeat at all, though I knew it must be frenzied.

There was no bird song, no insect chirping, no leaves rustling in the wind.

The forest was silent as death. My breath caught in my throat as I took in my surroundings. I knew this place.

My footsteps were measured and I knew where they would take me. I was terrified and excited, unnerved and hopeful; my emotions were a chaotic storm 31

churning inside me. This did not feel like a dream. I did not believe it was one.

I did not know how long I had been walking when I arrived at the hill. It seemed more vivid than ever, the green grass almost glowing with life. I approached it in a daze, my anxiety fading to a dull hum. I saw a hole, similar in size to the entrance of a fox den, located on one side of the hill. It was dark and I could not see what lay on the other side of it.

I cautiously approached it, crouching down to get a better view inside. I took half a breath and felt it catch in my throat. Inside the hill was…what was it?

A cavern? A castle? It certainly looked like one. Three stories high with twin towers on either side, surrounded by a thick, twisted metal wall—there was no door to be seen, but each detail I noticed was more exquisite than the last. This was not a hill.

This was a kingdom protected by the earth, buried beneath it, forgotten by everyone but…who? Did anyone know it existed? I leaned farther forward and my stomach plummeted. Directly beneath me was a drop so steep its end was swallowed by a black void. Eyes shut from vertigo, I pulled my head out of the hole, and it felt as if I were surfacing after having submerged my face in water.

I opened my eyes and watched them widen in shock.

I was looking at myself in a mirror, but it was a different me who looked back. My hair was tied back and hung like a sheet to my waist. My eyebrows were arched, my cheekbones pronounced, and my face looked more regal than before. I was wearing a high collared dress of black and purple silk. My breath caught in my throat as a door behind me opened.

In walked the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her skin was a golden brown and her hair fell in swooping ringlets to just past her shoulders. A green velvet dress draped gracefully from her curved figure.

The woman gave me a brilliant smile and planted a soft kiss on my lips. “You 32

look beautiful,” she murmured.

“Not as beautiful as you,” I whispered back, a bit shaken by her kiss. It felt familiar. She felt familiar.

The woman laughed and smiled at me once more. “Come, or we will be late.”

She took my hand and guided me out of the room. We entered a wide hallway lined with small paneless windows at even intervals, and the caverns outside glowed with a bronze light. Intricate tapestries hung on the walls, and an indigo carpet ran the length of the floor. I did not remember a hill or a job or an abandoned car in the middle of a never ending road. My wife led me down the corridor, and I feared nothing. Why should I? We were the queens of this palace beneath the earth.

Within a few months, I began to dream of a silent forest, its leaves painted with blood and ichor. I dreamed of an invisible path that led to a road made of a glittering black material I had never seen before. I dreamed of a shiny silver machine in the middle of the path, some sort of mechanical contraption that appeared to have been used for travelling. I began to obsess over this dream, ignoring my wife’s plea to forget it.

After all, I had had many strange dreams before. What was so different about this one?

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Lydia Tourtellotte ‘16

Yiqin (Nathaniel) Li ’20

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Chenxi (Ellen) Liu ’20

“Shower of Sadness” Julia DiNoia ’18

“Shattered Vision” Julia DiNoia ’18

Kayla McGovern ’18

Olivia Panagiotou ’19

They are earth. Most days, they're both fire; dominating, overpowering.

They're close but separate, despite being fueled by the same source, never allowed past a small wall of stone between them. One fire is always stronger though,

attracting more to its warmth and light than the other. Then one day, one of the two slowly turns to ice; withdrawn, frigid, freezing from the center outwards until solid.

With room to grow, the other fire expands, engulfing the wall as it moves to take the other side, and the ice gradually starts to melt, withering into a puddle. That too, eventually turns to steam until all that's left is the flames. Now the fire has all the fuel for itself, no other competitors to share with. It flourishes.

The ice, now evaporated, is brought to another place. This time, it gets rained onto a forest floor, right beside a grand tree that extends into the sky, branches spread out as a haven to the world around it. It is perfect. The only problem with this tree, though, is the vines. They aren't harming the tree or anything else around them, but they prevent the newly rained puddle from getting to it, intertwined and strong as a form of barrier. Now, the puddle must be content to flow around the base of the tree, while the vines and flowers and creatures prosper high above, bringing life in a way that one small, insignificant puddle cannot. Eventually, the cold comes and the ice freezes again, letting the cycle begin once more, the fire it once was is a long forgotten memory.

(Left) “Kent Falls” Tom Nurse ’18

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Xiaohua “Edward” Li ‘16

Earth Reflects

By Julia Crosby ’20

Sometimes, the ice finds its way back to the fire. But flames have no use for something so easily melted. Instead, it prefers the sticks and leaves that sustain it, flicking towards the biggest logs it can find. Ice turns to water, water turns to steam.

The cycle repeats until they return to the tree. And everything starts over again.

Eventually the water finds a quiet place, alone in a frozen tundra. Here, it can become ice once more without the threat of melting or insignificance. Here, there was quiet. Here, years could go on.

(Right) Oyetola Ajayi-Obe ’21 42

Erica Rumsey ‘18

Dear You, If I thought for just one moment that this would be my last breath, I'd tell you I'll love you forever, even beyond death.

If I thought for just one moment that your face would be the last I'd see, I'd take a million pictures and save them just for me.

If I thought for just one moment that your voice would be the last I'd hear, I'd listen attentively and promise not to shed a tear.

If I thought for just one moment that your touch would be the last I'd feel, I'd embrace you and know that this has all been real.

If I thought for just one moment that my heart would beat its last beat, I'd thank the world for allowing us to meet.

Love, Me

By Ethan Bibeau ’20

(Left) Elisabeth Villa ’18 45

Thomas Nurse ‘18

Jocelyn Vitale ‘17 Gabrielle Hopkins ’19

Darlingsnow is falling in arizona; rain is falling in alaska. darlingcome back to me.

the sun is dark; the night is bright. darlingremember me.

poison is sweet; caramel is bitter. darlingBy Jillian Ormerod ’19

(Right) Xuan (Linden)Wang ’19

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Xinyue (Helen) Miao ’19 (Left) Wing Yin (Theo) Li ’18 51

“Relaxation Station” Floor Plan, Section, and Elevation Architectural Drawing Sara Powers ’20

(Left) Zackary LaRoche ’18 53

Jill Allmendinger ’19

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On The Edge

By Johanna Sullivan ’19

The sun started to dip beneath the horizon. As it did, the sky was set ablaze with reds, oranges, and yellows. The colors bathed the world with their brilliance before slipping away. They were replaced by the gentler shades of lavender, indigo, and deep blue. Before the sun vanished from the sky I caught one last clear view of the paradise below me. From atop my cliff I saw the emerald trees and their promise of shade. I could smell the fragrant flowers and hear the birds sing goodnight. I knew that nearly fifty feet below me was a land where food and drink were abundant and where one needn't ever feel lonely. I knew below me was safety.

The sun finally left the sky and dark clouds gathered. The wind shifted and my nose was graced with the smell of rot and decay. Sighing, I turned around to face my reality. There was the forest edge, a dark place where all the trees were scrawny and offered no shelter, the only birds were the vultures and the food was what they left behind, the water was stale, and even the flowers had developed a taste for meat, all of them sporting a vicious mouth of teeth. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw another creature like me, dead or alive.

First came their snarling, deep and dark and bloodthirsty moans. Next their eyes, little glowing balls that looked like stars. These shadow monsters that I shared my 55

home with came out at night to stalk the daylight creatures. Their numbers continued to grow, I estimated there was at least a hundred of them. They were of all shapes and sizes, though that description is misleading. By saying that I'm implying these creatures had a solid shape and defined size. In reality, they were inky black masses that could be quadrupedal or bipedal, and had a loosely defined front and bottom, with dripping black claws and teeth.

I tried to stand, but my paws gave way from underneath me. I collapsed to the ground with a thud and winced as fresh scars from the previous night's battle were torn open again. With weak muscles I hardly had the strength to lift my head. The gooey red blood that dripped from a cut above my eye was warm, but night was frigid and the cold seeped into my bones. The ground, made of a hard rock, invited me to stay and rest awhile and I began to settle into my bed of stones.

The monsters took that as their cue to move forward. Slinking across the ground, climbing over each other, they moved in and surrounded me. The sky was nothing but an endless expanse of darkness. The only light came from the monster’s glowing eyes. Bobbing up and down they looked like stars against the night sky. Those eyes, they were mesmerizing, holding with them promises of escape, to an end of the darkness, and to peace. I wanted to slip away into those eyes and forget all my troubles. I wanted to leave my battle-torn body behind and enter a world where I could feel nothing.

The monsters started growing excited when they saw I wasn't moving. They moved in for the final attack, to tear me limb from limb; to devour me and leave nothing behind, not even bones. My eyelids started to close; I was ready to accept my demise.

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Then, a glimmer of light caught my attention, so brief and so faint that I almost missed it. I opened my eyes to check. The monsters must have sensed a change in mood because they started to back away and doubt made its way through the crowd.

When light returned I couldn't help but gasp. The moon, the brilliant full moon, had broken through the veil of clouds to bathe the world in its light. The storm clouds shied away from the heavenly body, but they circled it like the a hunter stalking its prey. It was like they were waiting for the moon to give up its fight. We were both surrounded by a world devouring darkness and we were both so close to giving up.

To this day I have never seen the moon shine so brightly. It was calling out to me, begging me to stand with it in its crusade against the darkness. A wave of determination swept over me and I let out a deep growl. A ripple of confusion went through the mob of monsters. Some of the smaller ones chose this time to retreat back to the shadows, hissing as they went. One paw at a time I lifted myself off the ground and this time my legs stood firm. Flattening my ears against my neck I growled again at the monsters. They hissed back, but were close to caving.

Sitting down, I tilted my head back and let out one long, bittersweet howl. The monsters shrieked and hissed. They fled en masse from the song, terrified, angry, and confused. I ended my duet with the moon and looked back at the paradise below, it took on a whole new kind of beauty in the moonlight. The night breeze whistled through the treetops, carrying with it the smell of sweet water and the song of nighttime creatures biding their hellos. My bones were still weary and my body was still beaten, but I felt strength wash over me like a wave. More than that I felt a sense of relief, the battle was over.

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After pulling myself to my feet, I turned to the rotting forest behind me. It still had its pungent odor and carnivorous plants. The vultures still squawked and the food remained their scraps. There was still no safety there, but I took a deep breath and walked forward. Reaching the forest’s edge I looked back toward the sky. The clouds once more covered the moon, but its faded light still found a way through the darkness. I smiled and with a little bow of the head, I turned and entered the shadows.

At dawn I found myself on the edge on a cliff. Last night’s storm was long over and the sun’s brilliant rays were just starting to paint the sky with reds, oranges, and yellows. The last stars were disappearing and the moon was beginning to dip beneath the horizon. Everything was in a state of equilibrium, everything was calm. I let the warm morning air blow through my fur, bringing with it comfort and exquisite smells from the paradise below. The night was over, the battle was won. Though I knew there was still a war to fight, I knew that I was not a soldier staring down the enemy alone. Looking back, I caught a final glimpse of the moon before it vanished beyond sight. I smiled and started off to find some breakfast and a place to rest my head.

(Right) Jacob Rice ’19 58

Yaozhong (Evan) Hu ’19

Michael Acquaah-Harrison ’20

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Callista Bibeau ’21

(Left) Nora Ilacqua ’18 63

Tory Piuze ’21

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This Ride

By Kayla McGovern ’18 As I pat his neck, He looks at me to say, “Let’s go do this thing.”

I turn to his side, My foot rises with ease, I hoist myself up.

My leg swings over, As I adjust my saddle, And adjust my reins.

As we move forward, He fills with excitement and, Jolts forward to trot.

Catching me off guard, He moves faster and faster, I live for these moments.

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Community Art

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SPAM & Trash Fashion Show SPAM (Students Performing At Marianapolis) & our annual Earth Day inspired Trash Fashion Show April 20, 2018 7:00PM | The Athletic Complex

PAINTING BY: WING YIN LI ’18

PENCIL SKETCHES BY: TIEN HUYNH (THOMAS) ’19

Poster design by Shelley Blair

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THE 15

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ANNUAL THOMPSON COMMUNITY

ART SHOW The Mission of the Thompson Community Art Show is to foster an appreciation of the visual arts, to provide an inclusive venue to showcase the creative talents of Thompson artists, and to enrich the community of Thompson through artistic expression.

The Thompson Community Art Show will be on exhibit during the month of April at the Thompson Library/Community Center.

Several MPREP art students will be exhibiting their work alongside other community members.

In conjunction with the Community Art Show, the MPREP Concert Choir will be performing at the

Thompson Library on Tuesday, April 24 at 7:00PM

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Poster design by Shelley Blair 68

Performance Alexander Boligan ’19 Wenzhuo (Ophelia) Chen ’21 Caroline Gardiner ’20 Dylan Haviland ’18 Laurelyn Mayen ’21 Jenna Olivieri ’21 Erica Rumsey ’18 Alison Tourtellotte ’21 Johann Vennink ’21 Kyle Woodruff ’21 Qian (Alex) Xu ’18

Exhibition Meghan Brooks (Film Photography) ’19 Alyssa Caputo (Film Photography) ’18 Yiqin Li (Film Photography) ’18 Kayla McGovern (Film Photography) ’18 McKenna Moors (Film Photography) ’18 Myles Wagner (Film Photography) ’18 Mary Watkins (Film Photography) ’18 Sara Powers (Architecture) ’20 Taylor Strong (Digital Photography) ’18 Shuyi Han (World History II) ’20 Alex Stawiecki (World History II) ’20 Maria Solis (World History II) ’19

The Rock The rock is a special assignment given to our AP® Studio Art students. Each member of the class is tasked with designing and executing a piece of artwork that will adorn the 4’x12’ boulder that sits near our main entrance of campus.

Sabrina Godin ’18

(Front to back) Sabrina Godin ’18, Linh Mai ’19, Wing Yin (Theo) Li ’18

Sketch by Wing Yin (Theo) Li ’18

Wing Yin (Theo) Li ’18

Julia DiNoia ’18 71

Linh Mai ’19

Scholastic Art The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards are presented by the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers. The Alliance identifies “students with exceptional artistic and literary talent and present their remarkable work to the world through the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. Through the Awards, students receive opportunities for recognition, exhibition, publication, and scholarships.�

Senior Bridget O’Leary was recently awarded six Silver Keys

by The Scholastic Writing Awards (North-East Region-At-Large). She received Silver Keys for each piece in the following categories: Personal Essay and Memoir: “The Science of Magic” Poetry: “Love is Dead” Fantasy and Science Fiction: “The Sirens’ Call,” “Ad Astra” (page 9), “The Hill” (page 29) Writing Portfolio: “Words of Fire”

Senior Julia DiNoia was recently honored by the Connecticut Art Education Association at the annual Connecticut Regional Scholastic Art Awards. Julia received two Silver keys for the following photographs: “Shower of Sadness” (page 36) and “Psyched.”

In addition, she received Honorable Mention for her photograph “Shattered Vision.” (page 37)

Congratulations Julia & Bridget!

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