Perspectives 2024

Perspective

Editorial Staff

Editors

Samantha Klassen ‘24

Katie Kitchen ‘24

Art Editors

Alyse Odinet ‘25

Nathan Schlarb ‘25

Poetry Editors

Bella Carrillo ‘25

Caroline Isgar ‘25

Teacher Moderators

Mrs. Maureen Treadway

Mrs. Sharon Jones

Table of Contents

Visual

Lily Davenport

Nathan Schlarb

Ava Roney

Barrett Brinkley

Alyse Odinet

Ava Roney

Jeanette Nunez

Jackson Spong

Mia Posch

Nathan Schlarb

Tyler Friend

Ryan Wagner

Jeanette Nunez

Hannah Forstrom

Fernanda Aragon

Porter Woolery

Sofia Pastrana

Tyler Friend

Francesco D’Alonzo

Cooper Ingram

Josephine Robinson

Ava Heredia

Caroline Isgar

Perspective

Lily Davenport ‘24

The Collector

Bella Carrillo ‘25

Gold earrings, old and rusted

Sticky notes that are sealed together

A pink highlighter that is done and busted

A keychain from my favorite vacation

Pencils with a worn-out eraser

And the photo that reminds me of that one occasion

A sticker or two

My phone case from years ago

As useless as an old screw

Chapstick that is no good for use

A flavor I will always savor

Shoelaces that always felt too loose

A birthday card from my thirteenth birthday

A notepad full of notes

A lavender scent mist I used to spray every day

All these things might be aged

But I have kept them

And they have stayed

Rumors

Bella Brinker ‘24

"It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true."

-J.D. Salinger

"She did what?"

They say as they hear through the grapevine

No difference between true and false crosses their mind

The looks of disgust on their faces

The innocent girl with no clue walks by "Why is everyone staring at me?"

She goes to the bathroom with confusion in her eyes

People's assumptions crowding in her head

Looking in the mirror in disbelief

"I did what?"

She asked.

Tahoe Trees

Ava Roney ‘25

The cold dock on my feet

After a long day on the boat

Walking up to the house -

Pink, orange, and yellow are the colors of the sunset

Reflecting on the crystal blue water

The smell of a barbecue in the distance

Seeing the card game laid out on the dinner table

The warm comforting feeling of a tight-knit family

Colorful and hopeful,

Filling the hole in my heart

The smell of fresh pine trees

The cold breeze on my face

Cherishing memories

Growing Up

Laurel Davis ‘24

As a child, I always wanted to be older than I was. I’d say “I’m 5 and 3 quarters”.

But as the days roll by and my eighteenth birthday draws near, I desperately want time to stop moving. This is the last year that I will be living at home, playing high school sports, hanging out with my high school friends.

If only there was a way that time could stop, and things could stay the same.

If only I could see the future and know that things will turn out alright.

But I am unsure of what is before me, nervous about change.

I don’t want to leave the comfort of what I know, But things must continue to move forward.

Sisters Always Stay

Carly Steinbach ‘24

I smell the salty water as it washes the back of my ankles

I hear “smile” from the photographer

A click of a button captures a perfect moment

Holding my sister’s waist

Almost falling back from laughing so hard

Love and laughter fill the air

The ones I never used to get along with And “hated” so much

Arguing day and night

Could not wait to move out

Now all grown and gone

Moved on to make lives of their own

I would rather have the house filled with voices

That the residual silence

But no matter how far they go

Or chapters they have moved onto

We laugh like we did growing up

Many memories in the past

With many more memories to come

Nunez ‘24

Jeanette

Thousands Molly Arrigoni ‘26

A calm, scenic trail

In the woods.

Thousands of trees and plants, thousands of animals, thousands of insects, thousands of different songs sung by different birds thriving in their natural habitat.

Two careless hikers, one cigarette. Now, thousands of trees and plants, thousands of animals, thousands of insects, thousands of homes, Vanished.

Crystal clear water of a popular lake.

Thousands of fish, thousands of ducks, thousands of frogs, thousands of food sources for all water life to survive.

Two careless people, one gas powered boat. Now, thousands of fish, thousands of ducks, thousands of frogs, thousands of lily pads and shorelines shrubs, Disappeared.

A vast, lively world. Shared by roughly one trillion organisms. But with seven billion careless people, the forests, the waters, the air we breathe, the earth itself, Gone.

Jackson Spong ‘27

Blue Balloons

Ava Handel ‘24

He grasps tightly onto strings of blue balloons meant as a gift from eager grandparents, now bitterly reminding him. Blue stands out against the white hospital walls and doctors' masks. Doctors, nurses, family members, passersby murmur sympathies, reassurances, prayers, plans.

A tiny boy's heart, broken.

Oxygen tubes snaking out, the heart monitors counting down to an end Blue as a blueberry, grandparents coo, blue for the color that skin should never be.

A family's heart, broken.

Too many blue gowns, too many plane flights, too many sad-faced nurses, too many pitiful stares Not enough long nights of crying, not enough first words, not enough first steps. Never enough tears.

Family, they were told by their parents, was a precious thing. Family, they were told by their church, was a sacrament. Family, they were told by their friends, was hard but wonderful They were not told how to handle a family that fell apart. They were not told how to mourn a child.

Their family of three was brief but it existed, didn't it?

If they remained three, would she and he not have grown apart?

Would their love have lasted if grief had not stepped in?

Lives dismissed with the stain of blue ink from too many signatures.

Eighteen years later now

Has it really been so long?

Alone

she releases balloons, blue balloons that float up, up into the blue sky.

Night Music

Trevor Hammond ‘26

The trees, which shine brightly in the day Glow gently in the moonlight. The regularity of the birds singing that rule the hours of the sun now overtaken by the hum of cicadas buzzing. The pond, glistening under the streetlights, Rhythmically splashing against the rocks. The small puddles left by last night's soft shower, now reflect all the bright stars. The low whistle of the wind harmonizes the small crashes of water. The trees’ small rustles, as leaves fall to the ground. These minuscule noises are why love the music of the night.

Nathan Schlarb ‘25

The Family Puzzle

Nathan Schlarb ‘25

Each piece crafted to fit perfectly together, a unified and harmonious marvel.

Family is a puzzle.

Its unification surges its strength. It feels complete that way. But when faced with adversity and the crippling pain of grief, the pieces will not crumble. The puzzle will not fall apart.

After experiencing the loss of a piece, we can never feel whole again, nor will we feel fully put together. But this does not define us as broken.

Family still just remains a puzzle, defined by the beauty of the pieces present, not by the absence of an unforgettable member.

The bonds between the pieces solidify, Love holds them together. Instinctively they become stronger than they ever were before, because it's necessary and crucial for their survival.

The empty space cannot be filled, for no other piece in the world shares its likeness.

The fear, sadness, and anger cannot win. Must not win. Will not win. For the love that binds us together can endure the weight of a thousand mountains.

I pray that our future welcomes us in a warm embrace. And bestows a gift upon our hearts and minds. The gift of peace for each piece.

This family will complete a puzzle again.

Ode of a Yearner

Ava Stine ‘25

There's a sadness in me that never goes away no matter how much I smile, or laugh, or pray. It's always there, even when I sleep; a shadow slips into my dreams and there's an insatiable longing for something more than what life's given me. My heart is violent and deserted like the sea, my eyes were born to watch the world around me. I observe, yet never experience anything as the eons pass and time tumbles on. I stand like a statue, a forgotten relic; I am a tragic ode, an unrequited lover, the one who's never chosen.

A passive romantic, a dreaming disaster Ophelia drowning, Juliet dying, a phantom of a girl pacing -beckoning to the stars but stars are fickle, setting only because the moon told them to. I search for companions in the clouds who only ever drift away -the one thing that never leaves is the solitude. Staring into the darkness, keeping my secrets, I close my eyes and dance alone. I really did love sad songs until I was cursed to be one.

Mothers

Savannah Melton ‘24

In a mother's love, there is a touch of madness

A sacred bond that makes us whole,

Being our best friend, biggest supporter, and shoulder to cry on

In the everyday chaos, where hearts are exchanged

There is a touch of madness in each home

Which makes all mothers slightly insane

Standing by us at every stage,

From good days to bad, watching us grow

Taking on our biggest fears, not letting go of our hand

Doing what is best for us, even if it's not what's best for them

Knowing they created something special and one-of-a-kind

Mothers are all slightly insane, doing whatever they can to make us proud

When it should be the other way around.

Nunez ‘24

Jeanette

Joy

Lily Davenport ‘24

"Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone."

- J.D. Salinger

Chuckles holler from one side of the table to the other Gasping for air, her body is already sore from uncontrollable laughter She looks into the faces of her friends and is filled with warmth

Suddenly, she's struck with sadness She has missed this feeling

Longing for it throughout her life, She says to her friends, "I hope this moment never ends" and she means it. She wishes she could stay in this instant for the rest of her life.

Those Winter Mornings

Skylar Debarbieri ‘24

Managing to throw each layer of clothing on, She forcefully shoves both feet into plastic-buckled boots.

Slipping and sliding on the overnight ice with eagerness

Towards the slow-moving, rickety chair with no safety bar. Clicking each boot into those stiff bindings, while waiting in line. Finally, she reaches the peak of that mountain. Taking in all the fresh air, feeling a cold shiver from the breeze. She thinks, "This is the moment, this is that perfect winter morning I've been waiting for.” Then she clicks her poles together And flies down the mountain. Feeling that adrenaline Excites her the most; it's how she knows she's alive.

Fernanda Aragon ‘27

The Loudest Sound

Carly Steinbach ‘24

Silence fills the room

Silence so quiet you can almost hear it

Silence so powerful you almost fall to the floor

Silence is all anything is left with, drained of anything else

Together around the bed we sit

No words said, no one moved

The only moving things are tears as they flood the eyes

And drip down stained-red cheeks

Death sits among us

Jaws clenched, chest rises and falls

The eyes close, sealed shut for eternity

Hands crossed, laying peacefully in the casket

Skin cold and lifeless

All joyful thoughts and happy memories flee

Grief now fills the air,

Suffocating those who breathe it.

Get Rich Quick

Rachel Rodriguez ‘24

Questionable morals, skeevy practices, An unbothered conscience.

Each lie filling your pockets.

Shiny coins and shiny things, Never compensate for a dirty soul and a heavy heart.

Money is powerful, But not as powerful as your mind. Money buys material things. It fills a void temporarily.

True wealth is measurable elsewhere: Wealth of family and friends. Human connection is worth more than any dollar amount. Money, ironically, makes you dirt poor in areas of substance. Get rich quick, but lose yourself in the process.

Change Samantha Klassen ‘24

We are born dependent on our parents, The people who care for us most in this world. As we grow older, we learn to walk. We walk towards our future: goals, dreams, aspirations. We walk across the stage during graduation, Crossing into the next chapter of our lives. Everyone who has supported us is still by our side; They are still there, holding our hands, However, now it is only metaphorically. We are still the same people we once saw in the mirror. Only now, we are better.

Tyler Friend ‘24

If I Could Fly Katie Kitchen ‘24

3 hours and 15 minutes. A 30 minute drive to SkyHarbor airport. A line at security. Buying peanut M&M’s and a bottle of water after reaching the gate. A text sent, “Boarding now. ” PHX->MKE.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

A two hour drive down south to Beloit.

I have flown this path countless times, for about 18 years. I know how many movies to download on my iPad, how many pages in a book I can read, how many snacks to bring on the plane, when to use the restroom before the flight, and how to split up the seats between my family of four.

Another text sent, “Landed. See you soon!”

We stand up and stretch, get off the plane, and walk to baggage claim. We round the bend and there they are. My aunt Totsie, my uncle Jason, and my three beautiful cousins, Anastasia, Charlotte, and Emmeline. We run to each other and embrace as if it’s been years, when it has really only been a few months. Finally, we arrive at the big red house with 5 bedrooms, a basement and an upstairs, in that tiny little town where everyone knows our names. My Papa’s house. The family is together, some newly added members who are spouses to cousins, but minus two, a matriarch and a child, who we have missed every day for years. We laugh and we cry. We play in the snow, we swim in the pool, we visit the grave, we cherish every moment.

We remember the games us cousins used to play. Running up and down the stairs, playing imaginary games, playing with Legos, playing Minecraft. We remember what the house used to look like before Gramma died. The dining room turned into a bedroom. The spare rooms used for clutter and storage. The old dogs and the overwhelming love.

We miss our departed members. The last hug before she passed. The painting of the newborn baby’s little feet that never got the chance to walk with his other cousins.

We remember old grudges in childhood and we laugh. We see the growth of every single person.

The uncles getting a little more tired. The babies getting a little taller. The older kids getting married and finding careers.

We live and we love I would fly to Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Cooper Ingram ‘26

Whispers of the Unspoken Colin Short ‘24

"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

J.D. Salinger

In a realm of secrets, I find my abode, Words unspoken, like whispers, are strode. Silence is the keeper of tales untold, The refuge in which mysteries unfold.

For divulged truths are a double-edged sword, In confessions, the essence is often ignored. Missing pieces linger in unsaid goodbyes, An echo of truths that the heart denies.

The canvas of connection, painted in restraint, Each unspoken word, an artistic constraint. To speak is to scatter the essence of being, In the quiet, the soul finds solace in seeing.

Fleeting moments, like shadows flee, Yet in the unspoken, they eternally be. For in the silence, a profound art, The language of the unsaid, a masterpiece's start.

Josephine Robinson ‘26

The Home With the Red Door

Amoree Eiden ‘26

I have always lived in the house with the red door, With the red trucks, in the driveway, Trees out front and a sandbox in the back. The red door always awaited me when I came home; The first sign of comfort as a kid. After trips, arguments, playing with friends, tough days at school The red door awaited me. It welcomed me home.

A home built on love, home-cooked meals, and card games. Loud laugher with family and friends. The smell of garlic frying, an old country song playing, And my parents dancing in the kitchen. Our friends jumping the wall between our yards, countless hours jumping on the trampoline, and repeated movie nights.

All of my memories are held behind a red door, A door of love.

Ava Heredia ‘24

Vacation Photo

Marina Etzioni ‘26

Maybe it was the way the wind flowed through my hair, Or the way the leaves rustled in the wind. It could’ve also been the wave ’ s rhythm to which I cannot compare, But I most certainly was where I was supposed to be.

I still feel the wet air, and the sandy ground beneath my feet. I feel the shoulder of my friend, And my dress flowing in the wind.

The ocean, the mango and cyan sky, The sunkissed skin and the feeling like I could fly, The smiling eyes and the giggling behind camera, Brought us all together.

Caroline Isgar ‘25

Enchanted Lana Arikat ‘24

In the forest deep meadows wide,

The ethereal cannot hide.

A place of comfort, a place of grace

Every part of it, embrace.

Even in the cold, dark, frightening woods

I find enchantment; I can still find the good.

Insects lurk, creatures unknown

To me, it still feels like home.

Beneath the ocean ’ s tense waves,

Deep down, a shipwreck’s grave.

Among, the haunting tales from those unknown

My love is there, like seaweed grown.

When I was young, rain and thunder made me shiver

Now rain is what I need most when my lips start to quiver

It brings me peace, makes me prance

No longer storming rushing, and surging,

Instead, the thunders drum and lightning dances.

Letter from the Editors

The dictionary definition of perspective is "a specific point of view in understanding or judging things or events.”

That is not Perspective. Our contributors have submitted artwork, photography, stories, and poems.

This is all simple material and is not the true meaning of Perspective. Our contributors have submitted their values, their minds, their hearts, their imagination, and their aspirations. As editors, we have had the honor of taking these glimpses of each person ’ s heart, mind, and soul to assemble them into one singular form - a soul of its own made from fragments of each contributor.

A symphony between artwork and poetry, the collage of minds and hearts.

That is Perspective.

We thank all of our artists, authors, teachers, and staff for their contributions to make Perspective possible.

Samantha

Klassen and Katie Kitchen