The Park Anthology - 2023

A N T H O L O GY 2023

DEDICATION

It is with deep gratitude that we dedicate The Park School Anthology for the 2022-2023 school year to Debbie Henry.

Over the past 22 years, no member of the Park community has had so profound an impact on student success as Debbie Henry. As the Director of Academic Support, Debbie helps make Park a place where every child can grow and shine. Through consistent meetings with families, teachers, administrators, learning specialists, and doctors, Debbie creates structures of support and care that ensure every student’s needs are seen, respected, and met. The impact of Debbie’s work is felt in every classroom at The Park School and on every page of this Anthology.

Debbie helps students of all ages feel confident on their assignments and proud of their accomplishments. One student who works closely with Debbie described her as “funny, determined, busy, and always smiling.” It is with this joyful and powerful intentionality that Debbie Henry has guided the Academic Support program and the students and teachers at Park for 22 years. As she journeys into her next adventure, we send her off with our sincerest thanks for all she has done, we wish her days full of laughter and continued learning, and we leave her with these words of appreciation from Park Upper Division students whom she has impacted:

“Thank you so much for helping me. I wouldn’t be where I’m at now without you. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Ms. Henry always makes me laugh. She is very helpful. I wish her well.”

“Ms. Henry is amazing. She’s there whenever you need her. She is a great person overall, and I am thankful to have had her during my time at Park.”

Faculty Editors: Nancy Popper & Lauren Dennis

Special Thanks to: Emma Hobart-Sheran, Flo Farrell, Lyn Williams, and Suzy Akin

ANTHOLOGY

ABOUT THE PARK SCHOOL ANTHOLOGY

First published in 1966 under the guidance of founding editor John Shaw, Anthology strives for “diversity and excellence.” Faculty editors have the difficult task of selecting the short stories, poems and artwork that best achieve this goal from the vast collection created each year by Park students across grades PreK through 8. Anthology is a testament to the many ways in which Park students discover themselves through creative expression, finding their voice, their vision, and building the foundation of their intellectual strength and confidence.

Kiran Joshi | GRADE 8 | Charcoal

Why I Bake

I bake to experience the creation of new things. I bake to be calm. I bake to be angry. I bake to give. I bake to knead dough in my hands as I shape my future. I bake to work. I bake to procrastinate. To avoid all the things that cause me stress. I bake for others. I bake for myself. I bake to give thanks. To all who have helped me. To those who have done nothing but be kind. It is an apology for the times I have lashed out. I’m sorry.

I bake to feel the wave of heat when I open the oven like the sun beating down on me during a summer day. I bake to see the look after the first bite. I bake to sleep. I bake to stay awake. I bake for simplicity. I bake for detail. I bake to discover new colors.

I bake because I can’t do anything else. I bake to gratify myself in the eyes of the god I do not believe in. I bake to learn. I bake to forget. I bake to have something in my control. To have something that is my own. To make a choice.

I bake to feel the joy of making something. I bake to risk getting burned. I bake because it is my language. Where others see a list of ingredients I see the opportunity to cook up happiness. I bake to connect. I bake to hide. I bake hoping that while I am tucked away, the world will change. I bake to be alone. I bake to satisfy another’s sweet tooth. I bake to smell the butter. I bake to see cookies spread, rise, and fall. I bake to hear the soft sweet sound of dough mixing. I bake for perfection. I bake because I am imperfect. I bake like the world is ending and everybody needs a cookie to comfort them. I bake like I have all the time in the world. I bake, dreading the screeching sound of the pan on the grating of the oven. I bake for the satisfying feeling of a clean toothpick.

I bake because I need to. I bake because it is who I am. I bake to control how others see me. I bake to battle all the things I am unhappy with. I bake to make others happy when I cannot do the same for myself.

I bake to live.

Gigi Boney | GRADE 5 | Mixed Media

Maya Rozier-Byrd | P re- K | Mixed Media

Mila Surnamer | GRADE 5 | Mixed Media

TWO-SENTENCE SPOOKY STORY CONTEST WINNERS

As I walked the shortcut through the graveyard to get home, I glanced at one of the graves, and my heartbeat quickened. It had my name on it, and the day I was born, but the death date... tomorrow.

They said getting a cat would make me immune to being haunted. It worked for a few days, but the way my cat has been smiling at me for the past three hours makes me doubt they were right.

“Mom, I don’t want to die!”

“Simulation is a success”

Junie Richmond | GRADE 6 | Stencil Relief Prints

Talia Klevens | GRADE 8 | 1st Place

James Fair | GRADE 8 | 3rd Place

Lesleigh Robin | GRADE 5 | 2nd Place

Silence

His heart stopped And so did mine.

The one that understood The one that listened Would now be gone. A tear rolled down my face. It was a drizzle in the storm that was to come.

I could feel my mind go numb. My heart was beating fast.

I could feel my pulse in my entire body. I couldn’t bear it.

And suddenly Silence. I ran.

Elliz Chara | GRADE 8 | Ceramic with Graffito

Josie Koulomzin | GRADE

Max Bendett | GRADE 4 | Mixed Media

McKenzie Ryan | GRADE 1 | TemperaPaint

Elise Weiss | GRADE 3 | Mixed Media

I write because it makes me feel whole. Excitement runs through my body when I pick up a pencil as it runs over the bright white paper. I write online on my Chromebook to hear the sounds of the keyboard tapping away.

I write because I can express what I feel. The pain and trauma I can put into a book. That can make my poetry stronger. I write because of my skin color. Because people don’t listen to my voice. So I make them listen to my words. I write to fill up a page. In real life and online. I write so I can know that mistakes are ok. I write using an eraser. I write to make a meaning for myself. I write to make a change.

I write a plan. I write to get my words out. I write when nobody’s listening. I write to forget. I write to remember the past. I write to think about the future. I write to learn. I write to be focused. I write to be free. I write to escape. I write to inspire. I write when I want to. I write to feel free and feel the words groove through my mind into my hand. I write because when I was little writing was a way to get by.

I write to get better. I write so I can look back and see how I’ve improved. I write to write. I write to improvise. I write to make a story that influences other people and their beliefs. I write to avoid failing. I write for a better place for all. I write so I don’t have to whisper. I write so I don’t have to yell. I write to gather information. I write to mess up. Deleting pages. Or ambushing the eraser for my mistakes. And wiping bits of the eraser away with rage. I write to raise a standard for myself. Always thinking outside of the box when nobody else wants to. I write because it’s like a forest. So many things to discover and explore. Or like a mountain with a desire to reach the top. I write to discharge any negative thinking. I write to require an answer when nobody wants to tell me. I write to shift through pages of pages of what I believe in. I write because in the end I’ll have something to look back at and revise.

Khaleena Jones | GRADE 8

David Glushkov | GRADE 7 | Ceramic with Graffito

Sam Saldarriaga | KINDERGARTEN | Mixed Media

Naeem Logan | GRADE 8 | Linoleum Block Print

Left-to-Right: Everett Bergmark | Jax Ellis | Bobby Welday | Ariyah Fernandes

P re- K | Mixed Media

Scarlett Yang

Ode to the Night Sky

Beaming down for all to see, You twinkle above my head.

I am lost in your sea of stars. And found by the moon.

Your beautiful, sickly beams of black across the sky. For once was glimmering, and is now lost, surrendered to the bright light.

Following me, and guiding me through bad and through worse.

You soar above me, watching my each and every step. The cold, bitter taste of your winds Whooshing past.

And your sharp, frosty pain on the tip of my nose. Your vibrant, beautiful colors. All hidden in darkness. And your thousands of wishes, all scattered across your vast sea of darkness. One wish, two wish, three wish is all I need until my dreams come true.

Emma Dunn | GRADE

Oskar Jacobs | GRADE 8 | Mixed Media

Feeling the Pain

I was running to my bathroom because I wanted to play a video game on my dad’s phone. There was a marble step going into my bathroom and I JAMMED my third toe into it. It was a nice and sunny morning and it was about six o’clock, when my dad was just waking up when he heard my cry. My eyes were watery and I felt so much pain in my third toe, I felt like screaming and yelling and crying but I Didn’t. The pain came on really strong, that’s when I screamed. That’s when my mom called, “Let’s go get you some ice, that looks really swollen.”

The ice pack was so cold my foot turned purple. That told me that I might need to put a towel over my toe, then put the ice on top of the towel, so that I do not get a frostbite. Frostbite and a fracture at the same time that would hurt (a lot.) I tried to get up and then I felt a ton of pain in my third toe, so I did it. I did the worst thing I could have done in that moment. I stepped…I felt a huge bunch of pain up in my third toe.

When I made it downstairs my eyes were wet. I thought I should have not stepped on my third toe earlier. Then I told my dad what happened, he also told me that he wanted to take a look at it (because he is a doctor). He looked at it, and in his eyes I could see that he knew that it was broken. That got me really upset.

I realized if I broke my toe I would not be able to do anything that I love to and that got me disappointed. I felt hurt not just in my toe but also in my heart. Later when we went to the doctors and they explained that it was broken that was when everything fell in my head. Now it’s broken. Nothing I can do and everything is going to be healed back. No swimming, jumping, or running. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

When it came to the big day that I was getting my cast off I was really excited and I fell asleep that night and woke up at 5:30 and then I had to wait until the time came that I could wake up and go to the doctors.

Then when we made it to the X-ray room and the news was when we finished the X-ray was……. Fracture was all healed and nothing got more hurt while it was in the fracture. Now I know that I should be more careful and of course…. I hurt my other foot!!!

Jacob Robbins | GRADE 3 | Mixed Media

Sadie Muncey | GRADE 3 | Mixed Media

Kathryn Miller | KINDERGARTEN | Marker

Michaela Henry | GRADE 2

I Am the Greatest

When it comes to baking brownies, I am the best No one is better than me

I could beat anybody in a brownie-baking contest I am the best, no one is better, even across the sea.

I am the greatest at baking brownies

They’re so good that people come from other counties For a taste of the delicious chocolate Which makes them want to stick them in their pockets.

I could make them crunchy and crispy

I could make them gooey and fudgy

If I stopped making them everyone would miss me

My brownies are never overcooked or sludgy.

I don’t need any toppings to make my brownies great, You can serve them as a sundae or plain on a plate. Some whipped cream and sprinkles could be good. My brownies are the best in the neighborhood.

I use Duncan Hines, Betty Crocker, or make them from scratch. I can always whip up a batch.

You want to try my brownies? You really should, They’re super good.

If you want to hear the secret, There’s not much to it, I follow the directions on the box And I pop it in the oven. My brownies are better than any cookies, cupcakes, or muffins!

Nikitas Handrinos | GRADE 6

I Am the Best Cyclist Ever

I am the greatest at cycling

I will bike so incredibly fast you won’t even notice when I blast past. On a hill I will ascend so quickly you will come home sickly.

When I kick into gear my opponents yelp in fear. When I climb up a hill you can’t even come near to matching my skill.

When I’m biking, I can stop for a snack before you can even come close to riding back. I am the greatest at biking unlike any other after I crush you, you will want to call your mother.

If you try to cycle quicker than me you will find a most difficult challenge to be. If anyone thinks they are faster I will make it clear who is the master.

I am the greatest at biking if that becomes untrue

I will hop away from this sport like a sick kangaroo. I will ride away from you so fast Your own family will put you on blast.

I have so many incredible wins I will make you and your friends look like a bunch of metal tins.

So let it be known,

Without a shadow of a doubt

I AM THE GREATEST AT CYCLING EVER.

I Am The Greatest

I am the greatest at acting

I know, but I swear I’m not bragging You might just think I’m dramatic, But I guess I’ve really just had it With people who think they are better than me

I mean really, like who could be?

While I’m under the spotlight in front of the crowds

Living my dream just being loud

Saying my lines

Read them thousands of times

You are backstage flipping the page of your script

I guess now I’ll have to restrict

Any reading or drawing, pay attention to the scene

What I’m not being mean

The lights camera action I’ve seen on your screen

Are really just problems you think you’re a queen

Up high in your palace really down in your bed

While all of those problems hit you on the head

My passion is endless

The rehearsals are too

Oh you weren’t invited?

Well boo hoo

I blink in the mirror

Then boom, at the Oscars

When you blink in the mirror

Boom at the barbers

It’s opening night, my actings still great

Oh no, your temperature is 108

I guess I’ll take your role

And the other one too

Can’t come tomorrow

Again, go boo hoo

Although it may seem like you know what you’re doing

Your fake emotions make me feel like spewing

Your acting sucks, your singing does too

What I can’t believe is that no one told you

Julia Roberts in Oceans 11

Might have as well been rated 2.37

Tom in Spider-Man, Peter couldn’t find home

His depleting career is much more well known

I am the greatest, I am the best

All my competitors can only detest

The director knows it, so do the cast mates

What it took to get here is just one of my fates

As the curtain closes and the audience cheers

At least my entrance didn’t cause any jeers

I am the greatest, in case you forgot

My acting doesn’t have a blind spot

I am the greatest at acting

If you think I’m bragging, just try interacting With people who think they are better than me I mean really, no one could be.

Alissa Rabin |

6

I Am the Greatest

This is the story of Annie Morningstar her ability is truly of a superstar Cause’ once you see her climb You will be on your behind

She will climb up the wall in 2 seconds flat and she will never hit the mat and if you think you can do that I would get out of here stat

I assume you’re still in shock and I’m sure she’lll let you use her chalk But I don’t think it will help Cause your hands are still as slippery as kelp

And the last thing I would like to say about the that legend we have here today Is simply to just trust me you’re not hated, just Humiliated

GRADE

JonahFreifeld | GRADE 6

AnnieMorningstar | GRADE 6

“I AM THE GREATEST” POETRY CONTEST WINNERS

I Am From

I am from smooth plastic Legos and the pride of finishing big sets

From iPads and Pokèmon cards

I am from grandma’s luscious garden and the smell of soil and the brick patio

Dotted with mossy benches, chairs and tables

I am from sea salty shells from Sanibel Whose colors tell a special story

I am from collecting baseball cards and video games

From Sargent’s and Ramadei’s

I am from late nights at Fenway cheering my loudest and from T-ball leagues

From Holidays and meals

the taste of love with every bite

From movie nights cozy on the couch

I am from Judaism

I am from Safta and Grandma

From delicious home-made matzah ball soup during Passover

From m&m’s given to me by Mima

From surviving the Holocaust and from immigrating to America from Israel

From playing Minecraft early in the morning with friends all of us having the time of our lives

I am from the moments that make me who I am

Gabby Omansky | P re- K | Crayon

Dash Ramadei | GRADE 6

Elizabeth McNeel | GRADE 8 | DigitalArt

Benjamin Goldberg | GRADE 7 | Charcoal

Maeve Looney | GRADE

Love

I love the rose that grew from concrete Feeling like a soft bird in the clear blue mist Looking up in the misty clouds of defeat

Reading with bold passion like a clenched fist

Sometimes when I cry, I am on my own

Like a life throughout my bloodshot eyes

Constantly feeling like I am unknown

With all the small birds in the foggy sky

When your heart turns so cold, you will fold

But I know I have yet to find it

Because it’s invisible with the old

And know that my voice will stay permanent

It is sometimes hard to achieve your goals

When you look back at your old dreamy soul

Isabella Ofosu-Amaah | GRADE 1 | TemperaPaint

Chloe McFerran | GRADE 7 | Wire

In a way, I was raised by board games. By cracking open a brand new game. By the laughing, the joy. By the rush of winning and the sting of losing. I started playing board games when I was only three years old. Of course, at that time most games were too complex for my tiny brain to comprehend, so I had to get creative. I made up games like “chess hat” where I would stack chess pieces on top of one another and move them randomly around the board. I also played Battleship, set up where I was playing side by side with my opponent and could see their whole board. It wasn’t until I was five that I could start competing by the rules.

Board games brought my family together. We would play all sorts of games, whether it was with cards, boards, spinners, or tokens. We slowly built up an overflowing closet of boxes and boxes of games. Even if it was only my mom and me, playing a quick game before going to bed, or my cousins laughing over a game in the early morning, board games built memories that will stick with me for a long time. My family also created games, like “Doubles Chess” and “Speed Blokus” which we tweaked until we made them playable, enjoyable games. Board games taught me how to be thankful for the time that you get to spend with your family.

As a younger child, I was not a very good loser. I remember I would throw fits and flip over game boards because I was so mad I lost. They weren’t little fits either. Sometimes I would be so upset I would just storm into my room and cry. Slowly I got better, learning not only how to be a good loser but also how to be a gracious winner. It took time but eventually, I came to the fact that it wasn’t about winning or losing but more about the journey. I think the main reason board games taught me how to be a good loser was because of how I could just lose little things like a card game which prepared me for bigger blows like losing important soccer games.

I was only about five years old when I started playing a game called Dominion. Dominion was a complex game with intricate details on every card and long descriptions talking about each card’s powers. As a preschooler, I could barely read but I still wanted to play. I would sit on my father’s lap watching everyone play, and I would ask my dad “what does that one say?” He explained every card on the table and the rules of the game, and over time I memorized what each card did. I could tell you every detail of the cards by only looking at the image on the front. Soon I could play by myself, except I still needed help shuffling the cards. So, at just the age of five, I was sitting down with my uncles to play a game that is made for much older people. Sometimes, I would even win! Board games, in a way, even taught me how to read.

Even now, 6 years older and 1 foot taller than when I first opened a board game box, I still enjoy board games just as much as I did before. Of course, much has changed since I was younger. I don’t have as much free time with all of my family. But recently in the Covid pandemic, we got to play every single game in our closet. Sometimes we would open a game we hadn’t seen for years and be flooded with nostalgia. But games would come and go. New games would be added, replacing the old, which were sometimes passed on to other families that hopefully would make memories with them too. So after all board games have taught me, what can I give back? Well, the answer is simpler than you would think: keep playing.

Nathan Minn | GRADE 7

Ode to a Book

You are the portal to another universe where anything could happen Oh, your dark and dusty stained pages bring me so much joy

When I see you waiting for me on the plain shelf Like a bright flower waiting for for spring, Your greatness has been Radiating for centuries, As you scamper though peoples thoughts and hopes, And though you may not seem like much, in a giant world, You, old musty thick Book are my reason to step away from the Chaotic outer world to another Dimension

Caroline Olsen | GRADE 6 | Wood

Kailee Hadar | GRADE 7 | Mixed Media

Caterina Nanji | GRADE 1 | Oil Pastel

Shirley Chude-Sokei | GRADE 7 | Graphite

Talia Klevens | GRADE 8 | Charcoal

Jackson Brownstein | GRADE 7 | Linoleum Block Print

Ollie Jacobs | GRADE 7 | Charcoal

Laila Miller | GRADE 5 | Mixed Media

New Scorers

Now Izzy, (who has scored) gets a second goal (which is amazing) then passes to Sophia (who has not scored) who now scores

later Ava Scores

Again!

4 to 1!

Whistle blows

Second half starts, Ready to defend

No goals are getting past us!

Second half, Everyone is more Aggressive.

But we want the win more. You can almost hear everyone’s hearts

Beating, Preparing for what could happen,

One slip up and they could steal the game back. Getting shoved and pushed around, But we push back And we push back harder.

Tweet tweet tweeeeeet screams the whistle

Our defense stayed strong Gave them no chance to score, While killing the game

By slowing down

The final score is something to be proud of.

| Ceramic with Graffito

Vivi Sze | GRADE 5 | Mixed Media

Why I Create

I create because I don’t know who I’d be if I didn’t. I create for the sound of a brush on canvas, paint slowly filling the empty space on it and inside of me. I create because the possibilities are as endless as space. I create for the sunrise and sunset, for twilight and dusk. I create for that feeling of sinking into my own mind, my ideas and inspiration. I create to form new worlds. I create to tether myself to this one. I create in order to escape its boundaries. I create to innovate. I create for myself. I create for others. I create because I can. I create for fun. I create to let my emotions pour out of me. I create because I love the sight of a blank canvas. I create because I can’t stand it. I create when I don’t want to speak. I create because to do so is to sing without words. I create to turn on a light. I create to stop time. I create to let my imagination run wild, giving into the call of a project. I create so I have something to do with my hands. I create to inspire. I create to be inspired. I create because it lets me breathe. I create to bring joy. I create to discover myself. I create for the satisfaction of a finished project. I create for that inevitable splash of ink that blots out a line. I create to make mistakes. I create to fix them. I create to the soft music of a pencil sketching out a design, a song only I can hear. I create for the delight of giving a handmade gift. I create to stem the flow of ideas. I create to calm my thoughts. I create to improve the world with art. I create when I want to procrastinate. I create for our generation. I create for our past and for our future. I create to show myself as vulnerable. I create to find pictures in the sunlit clouds. I create change. I create to show love. I create to keep myself organized. I create to make a mess. I create for my family. I create to capture the rumbling, roaring cascade of a waterfall or the softly burbling trickle of an icy stream. I create to thank nature for everything it’s given us. I create to honor all artists before me. I create for my indecision. I create to unravel my thoughts like tangles in yarn. I create for the rain that falls on a cloudless day. I create when there is nothing else to do. I create because it’s worth the pain that comes after being lost in a project, awakening to reality and realizing that I’ve been hunched over in the same position for hours. I create like there are no limits. I create because in my mind, there aren’t. I create as if I can mend all the problems in my life with just a needle and thread, as easily as I would mend a tear in fabric, and at the same time, I create knowing I can’t. I create because I dream. I create for that sudden clarity like water breaking through a dam, rushing past it, beautiful, powerful, dangerous. I create because I will never be perfect, nor will the results of my work. I create to tell a story. My story. In creating, I spread my wings. I create because I cannot yet fly.

Annie Morningstar | GRADE 6 | Stencil Relief Print

Winston Leffler | KINDERGARTEN | Watercolor

Catherine Witkowski | GRADE 8

Antonia Enzinger | GRADE 1 | Colored Pencil

Oliver Johnson | GRADE 2

Khaleena Jones | GRADE 8 | Wood

Raised by Broadway

In a way, I was raised by Broadway. When I was about five years old, I began embarking on my long-lasting journey with Broadway. As a kid, I was exposed to the ease of living in West Hartford, CT. A straight-forward, simple town. At a young age, I started watching my first shows. Whether at the Bushnell theater (a local theater) or the JCC (a community gathering space where I acted in performances) it wasn’t as special as being at the booming theaters by Times Square. My first Broadway show: The Lion King, I saw with my Grandma and Grandfather and with that, I started on this journey. Throughout my time in West Hartford, I spent a lot of time writing and reading scripts and acting in plays/musicals. Gaining my confidence in acting was something that seeing more shows taught me how to do. Seeing a show on Broadway shows me the possibility of bringing my small acting life to something larger. But to also know that it isn’t just the snap of your fingers that makes you be the actor you “want to be.” It’s the work that you put into achieving your goal.

When I walk into the excited Times Square, there’s a flurry of action. Like snow in a snow-globe. I walk through the streets, carefully gripping onto my mom’s soft hand to make sure we don’t get separated in the crowd. Whether Fall, Winter, Summer or Spring: Broadway doesn’t change. It’s always the loud orchestras, the explosive lights, and the engaged audience. Broadway creates a kind of eternal pull, that no matter the rain, wind or snow, you feel the buzzing excitement to be there. In that moment. As I go from a kid to an (older)-kid to a teenager walking on the streets of Broadway, how I think about being there changes. Sitting down at the shows, goes from being just a fun place to be, to a place to learn. I realized the recent times I have traveled there, that Broadway isn’t there to just fill your pleasure. It’s there for the actors, too. So every progressing time I arrive at a new theater, I think about it differently. This is because I myself am an actor. Being on stage, and feeling the “excited” feeling, is something I know that both me and the audience feel. Acting can alter my mood, teach me how to be different and outgoing. Teach me how to tell others a story. My story. Through acting. But Broadway is completely different, it’s telling someone else’s story. Though I always arrive at the experience excited, and both ready to learn. This is because Broadway gives me a feeling beyond imaginable. It brings me soaring happiness. But I don’t always sit in those seats embodying pure happiness, I think about it in the perspective of a person who is curious. I wonder how I can watch these actors in a different way. Can I see if they make any noticeable mistakes? Each time I visit, Broadway lures me in more, making me wonder: Could I ever be the person up there?

New York City is one of the most busy cities in the world. When you walk out of the subway, it doesn’t smell like the tourist-y amazing New York that every visitor might expect. It smells of the sweaty work of the fast-food vendors, and the sewer-like odor of rats. The mood is completely opposite to the calm, quiet feeling of the hikes that I would take with my family on the weekends. Being out on the streets is a completely different ambiance from being inside a theater. The theaters have a laid-out process that makes sense. From the tired long lines to the ticket checking, to the part where you enter the theater, the experience becomes more special after every step. I am directed to my seat by an Usher. The seat is both firm and comforting at the same time. I spend a few minutes looking at the informative Playbill, the bios of actors, the musical numbers, and the advertisements. Then, in a matter of seconds, light goes to dark. The curtains open, and the clapping begins. As the opening number is brought to life on stage, it feels much different to be sitting in that theater, than to be playing the same music from my iPad at home. The actors on Broadway make you feel like you are in a completely different world, secured away from thinking about homework, your work life, or other stressful topics. Broadway sounds like the sound of every possible instrument playing together, in harmony and musically intertwined. It sounds like the jostle of my heart, as the plot thickens, and the music stretches on. When the last chord of the show is strummed, and the lights click back on, it only takes a blink of the eye to be back to your normal life. Away from the booming, bright, busy, power of the show which will forever rest in my heart.

Even now, after so many different years, and experiences watching performances on Broadway, it will never cease to amaze me. It is so inspiring to be at a Broadway show, and that inspiration is what makes it so special. It inspired me to do scriptwriting. It inspired me to put on shows, with complex lighting, dark-set changes and music. It inspired me to be in shows, and put every ounce of effort into auditioning, because when you try, and never stop trying you will eventually succeed. No matter the challenge, no matter the direction, if you have something that matters to you, and you want to be “good” at it or inspire others with your actions: trust me, it’s possible.

Peter Dunn | GRADE 1 | ColoredPencil&Sharpie

Lennon Talbot-Frangos | GRADE 3 | Watercolor

Michael Doherty | GRADE 8 | Linoleum Block Print

GRADE

Connor Neal | GRADE 2 | Ceramic

Cam Pluhar | GRADE 3 | Mixed Media

Tatum Glynn | GRADE 8 | Graphite

Sometimes people say that I’m over-obsessed with biking. Well, I think it’s important, and it’s my favorite sport. For example, exercise, which I am all for. Biking can also let you experience new things! Like the time I rode past an airfield! And most importantly, you can always go outside for a short little ride with a friend. Biking is so important to me.

Do you like exercise? I do, and that is one reason why biking is so important to me. You see, I like to stay fit for games, and also sports, and exercise helps me stay fit for those things. It’s like an… ecosystem. I exercise by biking and the exercise helps me bike at my best! Lots of people say that it is a bad thing to exercise too much, but I don’t think you can over exercise! Sometimes all I can think of is just going outside to get some exercise on my bike.

Another reason why I like biking is because you can experience new things, like the time me and my mom biked forty miles! While we were biking we passed an airfield! Another time we (me and my Mom) biked to a summit (peak or view from a high point of a mountain). While we were on the summit we also saw a deer! What I’m trying to say is that biking can let you experience new things. And that’s one reason why I wouldn’t be me without biking.

And last but not least, I love biking with friends, you see, I definitely wouldn’t be me without being able to bike with my friends. I mean, I saw my first or second deer on a bike ride with some of my friends. Another time I was riding my bike to school with my mom and we saw a turkey! What I’m trying to say is that I have lots of memories with friends on bike rides. Sometimes you just have to go outside for a bike ride with friends.

Biking is important to me because it sets my mind free in a way that makes me feel like I don’t even need to think about what I’m doing. In other words when I’m biking my mind is somewhere else. Sometimes I imagine a world without bikes, but once I start to imagine my weekend… I wince a little (I usually go for a bike ride on the weekend). Either way, without biking, I would be a whole new person.

Luca Chokshi | GRADE 4

Naomi Garrett | GRADE 2 | Watercolor

JJ Fantuzzi | GRADE 8 | Linoleum Block Print

Blake DaSilva | GRADE 2 | Watercolor

Left-to-Right: Cason Teixeira | Hugh Murphy-Hara | Cecilia Jeyes Matteo Millner-Barrios | Charlotte Looney | Michael Allyn

GRADE 3 | Wood&AcrylicPaint

Maura Glynn | GRADE 7 | DigitalMedia

Sophia Wang | KINDERGARTEN | Mixed Media

Eliza Roy | GRADE 5 | Mixed Media

Emma Herbst | KINDERGARTEN | Marker

59-WORD STORY CONTEST WINNERS

Tiamat

The mortar-like rain has been pounding us for so long. The monsoon is almost over, but until then, we wait. At first sun, we make bread and sing until dark, the only lights, the stars above our heads.

When at last the rain fades, I pad softly out on my paws. My wings spread; I welcome the new year.

Stress

Light as a feather

Unseen

Unheard

Hidden in my brain

It says but not a word

Many years will pass, I’ll worry.

I’ll grow.

That tiny bit of weight, It will start to overflow.

I’ve learned in life

To enjoy each moment

For stress is quite abundant. A person’s just a feather, Hidden in a bird of the world

59 Words!?

I have to write a story with 59 words. How? It also has to do with light. How random! I’ll have to cut off words and sentences and make it look mystical, like poetry or something. Let’s see, bright, light bulbs, the sun. There are so many types of representations for light. Impossible. Oh wait, I just did it.

Kaia Evans | GRADE 8 | Ceramic with Graffito

Matthew Fair | GRADE 4 | Mixed Media

Margot Murphy Hara | GRADE 7 | 1st Place

Emily Fair | GRADE 6 | 2nd Place

Guy Rabinovich | GRADE 6 | 3rd Place

Forgetful

We forget how to Spread our Wings And fly We forget our Home We forget our Life before the Cage

We don’t know how much We forget

When we are caged down, With clipped wings No memories of home

GRADE

Elo Chang | GRADE 3 | Wood&AcrylicPaint

Grayling Barzey | GRADE 6 | Stencil

Izzie McWilliams | GRADE 5

Crying

My tears fall

Like monsoon rain

And my hope drains Out of my body.

As I lie in my bed at night, My sleepless eyes Pour salty sobs Onto my cheeks.

In prison, everybody cries in the same language. Free

The bitter taste of Silence

Stings in my throat.

I feel regret

Glazing my eyes.

Watching the geese fly Free

I wish I could be out of this prison.

Griffin Lee | GRADE 4 | Mixed Media

Miriam Crozier | GRADE

I Was Raised By My Bicycle

In a way, I was raised by my bicycle. I was raised by the sound of rubber ripping off of the rough pavement street. I was raised by the sound of gears changing and brakes engaging. I was raised with a hatred of uphills, and gratitude for downhills. I was raised by my dad teaching me how to ride a bike. At the age of just two years old, I began my biking journey. It all started when my mom was on bed rest, pregnant with my soon-to-be little sister. I would come home from school, thrust open the front door to my house, and bolt upstairs to my mom. She lay there, unable to do anything more than go to the bathroom or eat food. There was nobody to take me outside to play. But then my dad would come home, we would head outside with my little, brand-new push bike. We would talk about school and work, while simultaneously making a loop around the South End. We would explore all the little secret areas and cool little spots. The city I grew up in, Boston, housed some of the coolest features in any city. My dad taught me everything I needed to know before moving on to riding a pedal bike.

In late 2013, as my third birthday present, I was given an Early Rider bike. Most people would have their child begin on a peddle bike with training wheels around the age of five years old, but my story follows a slightly different plot. The moment my Early Rider pedal bike arrived, my dad took me outside, and I began biking. It wasn’t like my dad taught me how to pedal, brake, or turn. I just got onto my bike and started pedaling. My dad was completely shocked, but also extremely proud. We made our usual trek around the city. This was a long time ago, so I don’t remember much of it, but the one memory implanted in my mind was when I had my first big crash. We were in Cape Cod, at my grandmother’s house in the summer of 2014. I already had plenty of experience with biking on a standard pedal bike. My grandmother lived in an elderly neighborhood in Falmouth. The most distinct feature of where she lived was the circular driveway-like road that went all the way down to the dumpster, a few hundred feet away from her house. There, I would spend virtually the entire day biking around that loop. I would spend hours figuring out how to turn better, pedal faster, and bike harder just to make my dad proud. It was on that one fateful day when I had already completed dozens of loops, and I came into a turn too hard. BANG! I was on the ground crying. I could smell the blood oozing out of both knees. I could hear the loud footsteps of my dad as he ran to me. I could feel the pain that surged through my body, as I was overwhelmed with a meld of feelings. I was only four at the time, but I knew what had just happened. I had crashed.

As the years went by, I transitioned from biking around the city or a loop in Cape Cod to mountain biking. I went from biking through Boston to biking in the Fells, to eventually biking in the mountains. My dad and I have been on this journey for as long as I can remember, and we have both found new passions in mountain biking. One of my favorite places to go now is going to Kingdom Trails in East Burke, Vermont. This is where I truly developed my love for mountain biking. The blue skies are hidden by towering green trees and mountains that stand ever so gracefully. The sound of the crunch and snap of sticks, roots, and rocks that, in some way, ushers me to keep quiet, and keep on enjoying the beautiful nature around. The sensation that anything is possible sprinkled with joy and adrenaline. Along with these wonderful feelings, I also grew to greatly enjoy hills by remembering that what comes up, must come down. Biking will always be a bigger part of me than anything else, and no big hills can change that.

To this day, almost 9 ½ years later, I still love biking. Even though I do have other hobbies these days, I still enjoy biking more than any activity I’ve tried. Biking and family are closer to my heart than anything else in the world. No matter how old I grow, I will indefinitely enjoy biking. I now have a full-size mountain bike, the same one as my dad. My dad and I have a bond stronger than ever, and that has developed with our passion for mountain biking as well. We have found new mountains to ride on, including in Colorado and Utah. My bike is a best friend that grew with me, stuck with me, and never gave up on me. But after so long of my bike giving me everything I could ask for, it raises a question I know how to answer very simply. How could I ever repay my bike after everything it has done for me? My answer; keep on riding.

Sylvie Kim | GRADE 7 | Charcoal

Allora Beeson | GRADE 3 | Wood&AcrylicPaint

Benjamin Goldberg | GRADE 7

Myths

With the morning sun, And even the evening moon, The room remains dark.

With the questions asked, And the possible answers, None are truly us.

The stories we learned, About freedom and money, Those were never true.

Those were myths.

Salman Ismail | GRADE 1 | Oil Pastel

Madison Fonseca | GRADE 2 | Watercolor

Will Dunn | GRADE 8 | Wire

Yara Genead | GRADE 2

Christian de Roulet | GRADE 1 | TemperaPaint

Why Students Should Read The Outsiders by SE Hinton

Students should read The Outsiders because it teaches them about class and stereotypes. For example, the character arc of the characters teaches both the reader and Ponyboy how to look past stereotypes about class as said after Ponyboy talks to Randy “Socs were just guys after all. Things were rough all over, but it was better that way. That way you could tell the other guy was human too.” This quote shows that even though it is easy for the reader to see the Socs as inhuman, they were people too. Another example is that in The Outsiders, Ponyboy’s brother Darry is forced to drop out of school to support his family and thus lose some of his friends including Paul who consequently thinks that they are “superior” to them just because they can afford an education. For example, when the rumble starts, “I realized that the blond was Paul Holden. He had been the best halfback on Darry’s football team at high school and he and Darry used to buddy it around all the time. He must be a junior in college by now” (142). This quote shows that Paul and Darry are on differing sides just because one was able to go to college and one wasn’t, which further ingrains the idea in the reader that people’s worth shouldn’t be based solely on their education. Furthermore, the damaging preconceived misconceptions caused by division between classes are a gateway to dividing relationships, as mentioned when Cherry is being picked up by Bob and Randy, “‘I know,’ she said quietly, ‘but we’d better go with them. Ponyboy… I mean… if I don’t see you in the hall at school or someplace and don’t say hi, well, it’s not personal of anything but…” (45). All of these examples further prove that students should read The Outsiders, especially at a private school like Park because it is easy for students to stick to their “bubble of comfortableness” and they are often not familiar with the struggles of people who are in poverty.

In addition, students should also read The Outsiders at Park because it shows toxic masculinity and allows teachers to express the importance of recognizing toxic masculinity. For example, Ponyboy says that “we try to be nice to the girls we see once in a while, like cousins or the girls in class; but we still watch a nice girl go by on a street corner and say all kinds of lousy stuff about her. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know why” (26). This quote shows both the effects of toxic masculinity and peer pressure. Ponyboy doesn’t exactly know why they were disrespectful to girls on the street, but he was raised that way and he realizes it’s bad but is peer pressured into doing so. In addition, toxic masculinity is mentioned in this quote when the members of the gang think it is acceptable to treat a girl badly just because they don’t know her. This can be a conversation starter during classes with students realizing that just because you don’t know someone, doesn’t mean you should disrespect them. Another example of toxic masculinity is when Johnny gets beat up; “he tried to swear, but suddenly started crying, fighting to control himself, then sobbing all the more because he couldn’t” (33). This quote shows just how harmful the effects of toxic masculinity can be on Johnny. He tried not to cry even though he was injured because he thought it would make him look weak. This is beneficial for students to learn about because it is a common falsity that boys shouldn’t cry, and that is not true. In addition, when Randy is telling Ponyboy that he is sick of all the gang fighting, he says, “My friends- they’d think I was off my rocker or turning soft. Maybe I am. I just know that I’m sick of this whole mess” (116). This quote further shows the effects of toxic masculinity and how it forces people to conceal their emotions for the fear of looking weak. All in all, the effects of toxic masculinity are important for students to learn about through reading this book because if disregarded, it can turn healthy relationships into harmful ones.

Niamh O’Donoghue | GRADE 7

Hope

I hoped and Hoped Tried and Tried

Kept telling Myself

Better opportunities

Better Jobs Better Life.

I hoped and hoped That after thousands and thousands

Of days of longing to be free Imagining the sunshine And water And the feeling of Happiness That they were keeping From me.

I hoped and hoped That I got my facts Right

Studied those papers For hours and hours

Knew my fake family by Heart

I was ready

For when my interrogation came

I hoped and hoped they would Let me go Free

to be In America I waited and waited Days and nights

Loneliness and sadness

Filling my body.

I hoped and hoped As I watched the grass swaying from the Stiff breeze

The rooms were filled with Sadness and sorrow

The halls felt as cold as ice

I hoped and hoped In my dark and Cloudy prison

Away from the world

Waiting to Escape.

Oisin Guthrie | GRADE 7 | Linoleum

Emily Boyd | GRADE 4 | Mixed Media

Jade’s Soul

My soul is a lion

Fearless and fierce

Mane, running wild in the wind

I lead with pride

I take a step in stride

I’m never satisfied

No matter how much

I care strong and nimble

My soul is a fearless lion

My soul is a rain storm

Active and argumentative

Drip, drop

Gloomy and intense

Bang, bang!

The thunder strikes!

Although it’s only sound

You can feel it all around

My soul is an active rain storm

My soul is sparkling water

Bubble and bright

The bubbles are alive

Floating to the top

Pop, pop

My love is sweet, fizzy like my laugh

Polite and peaceful

My soul is fizzy sparkling water

My soul is a bed

Soft like my feelings

Warm like my heart

Calming and comforting

Sinking in between fluffy pillows

Thinking random Thoughts

Feeling the ripples

Of the sheet

My soul is a soft bed

Raised By Running

In a way, I was raised by running. My grandmother once told me that there are several stages of a person’s life. We initially crawl, then begin to walk, and finally take off running until we get to the finish line. This is life, she said, it’s a race that has countless obstacles but also many rewards. To me, Boston is the track that I run on, and my family is those cheering for me on the sidelines. Jamaica Plain Pond, with its wide sidewalks and beautiful scenery, is nearby my house. I love sprinting across its rough gravel pavements, with the echo of my footsteps, the rustle of leaves, and the distant gossip of pedestrians. The pond ripples in the gentle breeze, and the sky is an electric blue. The sun glares at me while the wooden benches serve as a brief respite for my aching legs, and the tall trees bring fresh air into my raw lungs. Just before the exhaustion hits me like a hurricane, the bittersweet smell of sweat overwhelms my mind, and I begin to inhale air as if I were a dying fish in the pond, I feel like a bird, flying. Every leap is pure ecstasy, and the world around me goes into slow motion. Between the time my feet lift off the ground and then thud back down, I feel as though I am soaring. Silence sweeps into my mind so I can barely perceive my sister calling after me like my head is underwater. The only thing I am aware of becomes the uneven drum of my beating heart. I become a leaf floating in the air, weightless. Every footstep is like I’m skipping across the surface of the Jamaica Plain Pond, emerald green with algae. To me, this is power and liberty. But, running is also an escape from reality; the hatred, war, and crimes of the world.

Whenever I sprint during the spring and summer, I go into a state of mind that mutes all the overwhelming details. My jumbled thoughts organize so I can focus on any in particular. A feeling of simplicity descends upon me. All I notice is my breathing coming out in puffs of smoke, and my heart pounding like a train on its tracks. I forget all of my misery and uncertainty as my only thoughts are on getting to the finish line. In doing so, running becomes a way of escape from the real world. Autumn and winter influence my relationship with running because the weather won’t collaborate with my strategies; it turns my lungs raw in a matter of minutes and bites at my skin. But, as I continue to practice and exercise, I get stronger and can run long distances in shorter periods.

Florida is also like a track to me, and my grandparents are like coaches. When I go to Florida over the summer, I get to enjoy the warm weather, swimming pools, and the ability to go to the gym several times a week. I immediately discovered that the treadmill was to my liking, especially as I started running a mile every day, sometimes even more! I focused on the quiet whine of the machine as I accelerated the speed, sprinting across its surface. A sense of serenity and tranquility washed over me, just before the exhaustion hit me like a hurricane and the bittersweet smell of sweat overwhelmed my mind. I ignored other people’s workouts and shut my eyes as I controlled my breathing. Then my legs begin to ache and my arms start to feel sore. Ragged sounds rip from my throat and I can feel my pulse pounding in my head. I take desperate steps until the treadmill finally comes to a halt. I swiped at my damp forehead and even though I feel slightly dizzy, I am overcome with pride.

Running is important to me because it gives me the feeling of power and liberty. A lot of practice also makes me resilient. It requires a lot of effort to cross the finish line, and my motivation is my love for running. So even now, after the summer has turned to autumn, and soon it will be winter, I still look forward to sprinting across the Jamaica Plain Pond. Although, I am now enjoying skeletal trees that have lost their leaves, and a mostly frozen pond.

Jade DeDominici | GRADE 6

Giselle DaSilva | GRADE 7 | Charcoal

The Sport That Holds Up My Life

“They say golf is like life, but don’t believe them. Golf is more complicated than that.”

- Gardner Dickinson

I have found that golf is life to me. The golf course is always so beautiful. Playing in the sun shines my heart. I also get to practice and get better at golf. But most important of all, I love playing golf and I enjoy it a lot. If golf suddenly disappeared out of my life, I would be miserable.

One reason why golf is so important to me is that I get to learn and get better at playing golf. I play a lot of golf and I practice a lot, I play hole after hole after hole. I practice putting, chipping, hitting irons, hitting hybrids, hitting my 3-wood, and hitting my driver. All of those are shots and clubs. What I’m trying to say is that I practice a lot. I also take golf lessons to improve my golf swing. In fact, taking lessons really helps me. For example, one time I took a golf lesson and actually started understanding the golf swing. I know that that sounds ridiculous but golf is really complicated. That helped me so much and I understood the golf swing. Another way I can get better is that I can watch better golfers play and learn from that. Their stance, their contact, and their rotation. As I say all of this, I’m realizing that golf is really hard but also really addicting and really fun.

The second reason golf is really fun to me is that the golf course is always so beautiful and the temperature is so relaxing. Of course not all golf courses are nice and neat, but I can still enjoy it. There are a lot of bright colors in the sky, being outside in nature is always nice, and the temperature feels good on my skin. For example, one time my mom was accompanying me when I was playing golf. I glanced up at the sky and I saw six different colors in the sky. Purple was mixed with pink. The sun was half visible behind a clump of trees. Near the sun, the purple and pink mixed with orange and yellow and far ahead was a dark shade of sky blue. There were also a couple of white clouds that loomed over the golf course. I had been amazed by the number of colors in the sky. Another example is when I went to North Carolina for a golf tournament, every day the bright sun shined in my heart. I always felt like I was back home in my house in China. I felt so nostalgic but felt really warm and welcomed. All of this shows that golf makes me happy and it is really beautiful.

The third reason golf is really important to me is because it is really fun and I love playing. In other words, playing golf makes me happy. Hitting a good shot is the best feeling you can have on a golf course. It feels sweet like eating a slice of watermelon. Making a long putt also feels that way. One time, I made a twenty footer. It was the longest putt I had made. I play golf a lot and what makes it fun is that I can play with my friends and family. My sister kind’ve knows how to play and my mom also kind’ve knows how to play but it is still fun. I also have a lot of friends that play golf. I spent fantastic times with them. An example of this was when I played in a friendly tournament with my friends’ family. We had a competition and we played a lot of golf. Without golf, I would have a lot less good memories.

As you can see, golf really makes my life shine. I get to practice and get better and I get to enjoy the beautiful colors in the sky. I love playing and one reason is that I spend time with my friends and family.

Benjamin Sheng | GRADE

4

“HowtoBeaBigBrother” - Jasper Klee | KINDERGARTEN

BJ Dawan-Abdullah | GRADE 8 | Linoleum Block Print

SCENE 2

Excerpt From : BrightPeaksMansionAdventure

Paulina is at the party, people are dancing, but Paulina is walking away from the dance floor to sit down on a bench in a secluded corner of the ball room.

PAULINA: Oh how this dancing tires me out. I find dancing such a tiring habit and I am not capable of mingling with strangers. I only ever really danced with Pedro, he knew how to take the fun out of his heart and share it with everyone. But now that he is gone I fear all my festive spirit has left with him. (A Girl in a white blouse and a dark blue skort comes in.)

FELICITY: How are you fairing, my dear lady Paula? (she does an extravagant overly dramatic curtsy)

PAULINA: Oh, hello dear, I did not know you participated in festivities.

FELICITY: Oh I am not, aunty, but I know this is the first time you attended a party after – well you know, after Pedro. I just thought I might come to keep you company, and (she looks around carefully, making sure no one is around) I am glad that I did.

PAULINA: What do you mean Felicit- (she catches herself) sorry I keep forgetting; I am so used to calling you Felicity as I have known you from the day you were born. That you now go by a different name confuses me. Let me try again, “What do you mean, Felicia?”

FELICITY: It’s fine, but I mean, this. (she hands Paula a crumbled slip of paper)

PAULINA: (she takes the paper from Felicia and proceeds to read it aloud)

“We need to finishwhatwe started Pedritomaybegone… But Paula is still here Tomorrowwhen the clock strikes nine The blood on ourhands shall shine.”

(she looks up at Felicia trembling, the paper slides to the ground, the lights dim and everything goes quiet, all the other party people exit while Paula chokes back tears. She re-reads it aloud again for the audience)

PAULINA: He was murdered (Felicia nods) And now the murderer is coming for me.

FELICITY: Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, I just thought you ought to know.

PAULINA: (staring out into space) He was murdered, (pause) and now they are coming for me.

PAULINA: They will pay, (yelling) THEY WILL PAY FOR WHAT THEY HAVE DONE!

FELICITY: Please aunt Paula, you need to calm down, we can not risk anyone hearing us. We must head back to your manor. There we will think this through and come up with a plan. We have no idea who this could be; all we know is that there are at least two people involved.

PAULINA: I apologize, you are right (glancing at the clock). It is late. I should be heading home, I don’t want Edmond worrying about me. We can ask him for help to find out who is threatening me.

FELICITY: I would love to come over, but I am not so sure about involving other people.

PAULINA: Why not? Are you suspecting Edmond of not being trustworthy?

FELICITY: What? No! I just think- (before she can finish her sentence a piece of paper falling from above lands in front of their feet Paulina picks it up and reads it aloud)

“BrightPeaksMansionisnotsaferightnow Youmuststayawayandmakenosound Theywillcomeandgetyou

Latertonight And theirdevices oftorture

Willgiveyouafright.”

PAULINA: This handwriting, it looks familiar. (hands it over to Felicia)

FELICITY: I don’t think we should go to your house.

PAULINA: How can we know to trust thus unknown messenger, If you do not even trust my dear Edmond? (Felicia turns the message around in her hands, and notices something)

FELICITY: Because, it says “trust me” on the back (she shows Paulina the back of the note)

PAULINA: There is something familiar about this handwriting but I can not quite place it. (there is a pause where both are lost in their thoughts) Is your dear mother home?

FELICITY: Yes, but once I enter she will probably go out wasting money with her friends. We can go there if we want to.

PAULINA: (she gives Felicia a short but tight hug) That is settled then. Come, it is past 2 AM, let us leave this place. (She holds her hand out to Felicia and together they exit. At the same time two hooded people enter from the other side)

Left-to-Right: Ryan Abrahamson | Madeline Goodman | Josie Baraka Taylor Caruso | Jonathan Fletcher | Quinlan Price

Sara Katz | GRADE 1

Matthew Boyd | GRADE 2 | Watercolor

I Cry, So I Don’t Die

It’s 2 am everyone’s asleep except me. I sit there in my bed, mascara not on my eyes anymore my black tears stain the bed sheets. I cry to survive, breathe, hunt, feed and thrive. I cry not to talk. I cry in daylight, and when the sun rises, and when the sunsets. I cry on the smooth cold hard ground. I cry over the troubles of the day. I cry so I don’t say what I want. I cry because it speaks louder than words. I cry so I can be scared. I cry for the people I hate. I cry for the people I love. I cry awake and cry myself asleep. I cry to stop myself from yelling. I cry silently while I scream inside my head. I cry when I’m laughing. I cry to fuel other people’s laughter. I cry to stop the hurting. I cry to get myself up in the morning. I cry when nobody sees me, so everyone sees the fake me. I cry for the people that can’t. I cry in my bed, in my home, and in my mind. I cry so my mom doesn’t have to. I cry so I’m the bad guy. I cry so that other people can too. I cry to the dead and the alive. I cry to slow life down. I cry in the sun and the rain. I cry when everyone’s asleep. I cry at 12:01. I cry as a clock ticking down the time till I have to wake up. I cry, so the music sounds better. I cry so that my best friend can, too. I cry because I love my parents. I cry, so people feel bad for me and so I get what I want. I cry to be selfish and greedy. I cry to block out all the noises. I cry so that someone will love me and people will hate me. I cry today so that tomorrow I can be happy. I cry to heaven and hell. I cry in church and to god. I cry when I’m worried and when I’m stressed. I cry like a person who doesn’t want to live. I cry when I am weak and vulnerable. I cry when my mind is playing tricks on me, and I don’t know what to do. I cry to be saved and to be rescued.

I cry like I’m walking on a tightrope across Mount Everest, trying not to look down, carrying so much weight on my shoulders I am hunched down, just trying to get to the end, but I can’t even see the finish line, it’s so far but yet so close I feel as if I can tough it, but I can only stare as it slowly gets farther and farther away. I cry because I am so happy, and I feel like I don’t deserve it. I cry tears to drink my water. I cry in the ocean so my tears cannot be seen. I cry when I am in love. I cry in my heartbreak. I cry for all the ones I have lost but haven’t died. I cry for all the disasters that I have played a part in. I cry out my soul. I cry to heal my heart.

Estelle Lawrence | GRADE 8

Tala Scull | GRADE 2 | Ceramic

Tyler Abrahamson | KINDERGARTEN | OilPastel&TemperaPaint

Michael Doherty | GRADE 8 | Ceramic with Graffito