Welcome to RSD Lives! We are thrilled beyond words to present to you Issue III.
Art is all around us, eagerly waiting to be discovered. It emerges from every circumstance, revealing reality in ways that words cannot. It serves as a reflection, mirroring ourselves and the world outside us. Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, we often overlook its presence. Today, we urge you to take a moment, clear your mind, and immerse yourself in the journal we ' ve crafted for you.
We sincerely thank our contributors for enriching our journal with their poignant stories. Their art, filled with richness, has added a unique depth to this issue. This year, we were grateful to see a significant rise in contributors. Without their brilliance, this issue would not have been possible.
We invite you to discover and delve into the beauty of our community and its creations. We assure you, it will be immensely rewarding.
Emily Chien Anvi Talyan
Spring Melina Jacobsmeyer, Marquette ‘26, Photograph
2024 STAFF
Editors-in-Chief: Emily Chien, Anvi Talyan
Associate Editor: Henry Chen
Page Designer: Eli Ferguson
Social Media Managers: Carl Taraporevala, Jacob Yn
Advisor: Lauren Williams
Editorial Policy
RSD Lives is composed of content submitted by students across the district, representing all four grade levels. Selection of included materials is done by all members of staff, with pieces chosen with creativity, composition, and accuracy in mind.
Submissions were collected through a form distributed online to all four high schools The published work isn’t representative of the thoughts or ideals of the Rockwood School District, journal, or journal advisor
Colophon
Issue III of RSD Lives was designed using Canva. The document cover includes fonts The Seasons and Abhaya Libre, and the body text is Antic. The front cover art was provided by Luke Hinton with permission to print, and it was designed by Anvi Talyan. We extend gratitude to all English and art teachers who encouraged their students to step outside of their comfort zone and submit work.
The Microphones
Nordman, Marquette’24'
Drawing and Illustration
Marina French, Marquette ‘27
Ava
It was him and I
Just us two
We felt so close to discovering the truth
Of each other's big blue hearts as soldiers often do
We cut to the meat of things
And oh how time flew
Talking to you
He told me things
Things I thought I knew
Long long ago like they were trapped inside us two
Us two longing loves
Oh I will come home to you
Us two longing loves
I'll keep my heart yearning for you
I'll keep it turning for you
I'll keep it hurting for you
He goes on about his too
How in his hearts of hearts
His heart ever beats for you
You
Whoever you are
He won't give me a name
I like it better that way
The feelings and nothing more
His two longing loves
Our two longing loves
We all are just longing loves
en silencio
Rylee Stoffel, Lafayette ‘26
Nightmares haunt my waking day
En silencio, lloro
Your poison ivy struggles, my smile frayed
I begin to pray
En silencio, lloro
It won’t go away
Your posion touch
Seeps through too much
En silencio, lloro
No matter how I try to forget
I always wonder if you regret
That haunted day you may recall
That haunted room lingers, shadows tall
Your Midas touch of fool’s gold Is poisoned, tainted, rusted and old
No lo pedi
No lo pedi I say
But the dissonant murmurs ring in my ears
Around the halls, my biggest fears
En silencio, lloro: no lo pedi
The sharp pain my back Their rusted swords, to me they attack
No lo pedi
Monologues
of an “Inexperienced” 16-Year-Old
Kaylee Horn, Marquette ‘25
My Life
Marina French, Marquette ‘27
Photograph
Fatigue:
“extreme tiredness resulting from mental or physical exertion or illness”
Is it not so fitting that one-word
Carries the weight of a novel?
How I loathe my sixteen-year-old body
To whom the definition of “fatigue” rings true
This sixteen-year-old-body
With hands whose silhouettes reveal the weary callouses of holding on Fingers grazing the fleeting hope of each new day
All the while stumbling through just one more minute
This sixteen-year-old body
With a chest heaving under each unspoken burden it bears These lungs, though filled with a suffocating honesty
Forced to aspirate each memory, each word, each value
This sixteen-year-old body
Battered and bruised from standing back up
Long after they screamed with stress-fractures
This sixteen-year-old body
With a stomach-churning cycle of self-hatred
Whose grievances are a swalloweddown bile
Digesting each perceived failure with an acidic resentment
“You’re only sixteen; you haven’t the slightest concept of exhaustion.”
“You have not the right to claim resonance with this word.”
“You have not the years of experience.”
“You have not the weariness.”
My body
This body
This sixteen-year-old body
Is
Fatigued
Fatigued
From the limelight that will be my sepulcher
Fatigued
From the pressures of adulthood bequeathed unto me
Long before my mind should have shouldered the weight of “maturity”
Fatigued
From the guilt of expectations unachieved
And judgmental whispers that validate an unwavering internal monologue
Fatigued
From incessant questions about undefined identities
Whose explorations were stunted by the stigma of being a child
Raise our spirits high
Then pull the stool from beneath our feet
Hand us the ammunition to put a bullet in our heads
Then expect us not to play Russian roulette
Push us to our limits; push us to the edge
Then act surprised when we take a swan dive
Why wouldn’t we loathe our sixteenyear-old bodies?
Our bodies, unable to satisfy the conditions of a world
Who let us grow into ourselves believing
That we were not enough
Yet it is not you that we come to blame
But our sixteen-year-old bodies Which we were taught to resent And We are
Fatigued
the lonely girl
The Lovely Couple
Luke Hinton, Lafayette ‘26
Sculpture
Mackenzie Michel, Marquette ‘27
As the side character I will speak when I’m spoken to
As the impulsive purchase I sit and collect dust
As the people pleaser I will give everyone who has a paper cut a bandage before treating my own bluet wounds
And as the toy I will be thrown to the side when done playing with my feelings
Some how you will always seem to come back to play with the broken pieces agai
Many will look at the broken pieces
Most will walk by
But some will kick And stomp And shader
And pick apart the the mess to make sure it’s all dust
But the dust will wait for the day it’s scooped into an urn
Just to be placed back in the dark again
A Queen’s Yellow Crown Marina French, Marquette ‘27
Photograph
She Haunts Me
Marina French, Marquette ‘27
Photograph
Blink of an Eye
Anonymous, Rockwood Summit ‘26
Photograph
Serpentes Luke Hinton, Lafayette ‘26
Drawing and Illustration
THE IMPORTANCE OF SELF AWARENESS
Wangshu Liu, Marquette ‘27
“Reclusive,” “obstinate,” and socially “obtuse” three adjectives that when used in conjunction, do not convey the notion of a particularly likable or even perhaps just tolerable person Luckily for me, I am a mathematician, topologist to be specific, so my expertise is not hindered. In fact, because I refer to myself as the preeminent expert on topology, my work is often quite isolating; the ideas I develop often appear to be derived from an eclectic mix of preexisting research, but don’t be fooled. I’m merely improving the lackluster research of my peers, or as I like to call them, subordinates.
Fortunately for aspiring mathematicians, I do engage in light amounts of pedagogy. Precisely four nights every fortnight, I have the self-control to pull myself away from my all-engrossing, invaluable research to engage in light colloquy with colleagues and scrupulously transmit my vast, replete prowess of topological jargon My predilection for these days is slim. But understanding the role I play in the field of topology, I am willing to forgo a few slim hours for the sake of the next generation. I do however ululate out of irritation into a jar immediately following these sessions if that habit is of any interest
Despite my condescending and insensitive nature, for the umpteenth time, I have been invited to a mixer for mathematicians I have long since deduced that my invitation is the result of my pure genius for as I, and even you, am aware by now, I am not particularly adept at the development and cultivation of interpersonal relationships
On the night of the mixer, I show up ready to dispense my most recent findings to my associates I do not try to make acquaintances as the purpose of a mixer may be and neither does anyone attempt to approach me.
Following a demonstration of inept research, the fruit of many months of futile labor, the spotlight was turned over to me. As I mounted the podium, I noticed the attentive eyes of all directed at me; my audience seemed to be holding their breath, unwavering intentness glaring from the surface of their faces, holding pens in one hand with notepads in the other After I spoke my piece, all were
enthralled by the new ideas I had just brought forth. However, no one tried to approach me, and following my time on the podium, I was left alone I phased into the background, seemingly invisible when not presenting my groundbreaking findings a condition that had been set as the basis of a symbiotic relationship.
Laying in a broken heap
No one can fix her
Shattered china girl
Shattered
Marissa Swanick, Rockwood Summit ‘26
D r a w i n g a n d I l l u s t r a t i o n
c o
n t e M a x P o o l , L a f a y e t t e ‘ 2 6
Leaping Dylan Koch, Lafayette ‘25
Photograph
Mayflowers
Mya Anspach, Lafayette ‘26
Babies cry a lot
My friends call them annoying
I find them enjoying
But I loved my sister the most I could go on for hours
Her middle name is May Reminds me of flowers
She was three months old
When her heart was gold
So pure but now untold
My sister is in heaven
Next year she would be eleven
This isn't sad
It is a time to be glad
She never suffered afflictions
Never battled addictions
Only knew love
And now she is above The time I sought
But never got Babies cry a lot
Greenery Ava Nordman,, Marquette ‘24
Drawing and Illustration
The Forest Ash Lovell, Rockwood Summit ‘26
Photograph
In search of a tranquil and calm place for my dear small bear, Frendle, to splash and climb, I created a relief sculpture Frendle is a small but special plush bear who has gone missing As he has always been a wanderer, he may have run off to this serene location until he is ready to return home The sculpture is a representation of my hope that Frendle is safe and happy, surrounded by the beauty of nature. Each time I look at it, it brings me a sense of peace and calm, knowing that Frendle is out there somewhere enjoying his adventures.
