Callithump 2020

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n. A noisy, boisterous band or parade n. The Stone Ridge literary and arts zine n. The reimagination and turmoil that ensues when COVID-19 forces teenage girls to finish their spreads at home and maintain the same energy and creativity.

This year’s Callithump is created in the name of HOME. The idea of home, of course, is very broad.

It conjures different images for everyone.

It could be the physical bed in which you sleep, Or the house in which you live.

Your favorite show, book, or movie, Enjoyed with a mug of tea, coffee, or hot chocolate.

Maybe your home is the beautiful planet on which we live.

The trees, the sky, the stars.

Maybe you find comfort among your mind, That place where you develop your fantastic ideas and cultivate your passions Ready to make the home of humanity a better place.

Maybe it’s your dog, wagging her tail when you walk in the door.

Or your cat, curled up in your lap as you do homework.

Your school, Stone Ridge, can be a home.

It’s a community that inspires you to change the world, Filled with teachers who help you to discover yourself.

Or its your f riends, Those people with whom you can be completely yourself, Who are your home.

Maybe it’s your family, Those people who you love most, whoever that may include.

Anywhere can be a home.

Anything can be a home.

Anyone can be a home.

We hope you can find a piece of your own, unique home tucked within these pages.

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This year, Callithump is dedicated to the students of our school.

Thank you for being outspoken, determined, resilient, and committed to change.

Thank you for always protecting the people of our common home and defending what you believe in.

Thank you for always protecting the people of our common home and defending what you believe in.

Thank you to those who submitted, to your courage and vulnerability in allowing your unique voices to be heard by the Stone Ridge community. We could not have created this magazine without your artistic visions.

We also extend a big thank you to the teachers of Stone Ridge who have made this school a home for many. Thank you for supporting the creative aspirations of your students.

We would especially like to thank Ms. Balaban, Mr. McCluskey, and Ms. Whitmore for dedicating their time and energy to the production of our explosive magazine.

On a slightly unrelated note, thank you to the faculty and staff who kept school going even as crisis overtook the nation. Callithump is dedicated to the perseverance of students and staff who stayed united as a community even as quarantine kept us from physically coming together to learn.

Finally, thank you to all of our staffers who took words and images off of a page and created a masterpiece to be proud of. Your relentless energy and passion is embodied in a magazine that bears your creative stamp.

Kelly Shannon ‘20

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Editors

Erin Shannon

Kelly Shannon (editor-in-chief)

Maddie Pilkington

Cailley Slaten (art editor)

Sophia Strandberg

Danielle Seay (head of design)

Emily Hammack

Caroline Speidel (copy editor)

Clare Siffermann Maddie Ogletree Emma Dowd Maria DiBari Rachel Nokku

Faculty Advisors Katya Balaban Malcolm McCluskey

Naina Makkad Jade Fanning Jamison Rodgers Katherine Vaca Adrianna Kapust Eileen Hannah Langley Steuart Meg Turner Lourdes Russell Natalie Peoples Lilly Calogero Jodie Urbanski Cailley Slaten Danielle Seay Kelly Shannon Caroline Speidel Meg Turner ‘20

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Table Of Contents

Art

Writing

Cora Beswick............................14,16,27,28,33,34,42,48

Anonymous........14,16,25,29,37,39,40,41,47,48,34,35

Cailley Slaten.....................................................................23

Adele Feldberg..................................7,9,13,15,22,30,42

Caroline Moore............................................... 17,19,23,46

Brooke Lennon...................................................................24

Caroline Vining.............(cover)10,20,40,41,45,48,49,50

Callie Mowry...............................................................45,46

Zoe Marsiglia.........................................................20,31,32

Caroline Speidel..............................................................5,6

Charlotte Weimer.................................................................1

Katie Harwood..................................................................43

Clare Nickerson........................................................(cover)8

Zoe Marsiglia..............................................................35,36

Clare Siffermann..............................................(cover)24,39

Gabrielle Olumilua..........................................................21

Dakota Dorsey....................................................................25

Grace Bullard....................................................8,10,18,31

Danielle Seay.............................................(cover)7,8,33,36

Kelly Shannon.............................................................20,32

Kelly Shannon........(cover)2,7,11,13,14,22,30,35,37,38

Kimberly Ross....................................................................19

...................................................................................41,43,47

Rohey Colley...............................................................11,12

Langley Steuart........................(cover)11,12,13,15,42,45

Fiona Murphy....................................................................23

Maddie Ogletree.............(cover)5,6,12,16,17,18,19,47

Preeti Kulkarni.............................................................27,28

Megan Turner............................................3,5,6,9,15,31,44

Peyton Harmon.................................................................17

Jorgia Walker........................ (cover,backcover),21,26,29 Anna Moore.........................................................................17 Naina Makkad....................................................................18

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Enough Enough That is the word that defines the world; a teenager’s world, that is Enough Am I smart Enough Do I work hard Enough Are my grades Enough Am I strong Enough

Maddie Ogletree ‘22

5

Megan Turner ‘20

Am I pretty Enough Is my friendship Enough Am I loved Enough Is the world Enough Is life Enough In the end, though, the ultimate question is, simply: Am I Enough You are

- Caroline Speidel ‘21

Maddie Ogletree ‘22

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Dead Reckoning I don’t know what to do without you It’s not codependency It’s not that I anchored myself to you It’s that some part of me always felt like you would just be there And losing you as abruptly as I did Made it feel like I lost one of the guiding lights in my life Like you were a lighthouse along my voyage coming home to wherever I belong And one night your light went out It’s been a long, dark night without you there I can still find my bearings in this darkness While floating adrift in these rough waters, I can still see the shore It’s just a bit harder without your light to help me navigate home - Adele Feldberg ‘22

Kelly Shannon ‘20

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Kraken Haiku Ocean blue you rest Warm on the radiator Three hearts bring us peace - Grace Bullard ‘22

Danielle Seay ‘21

Clare Nickerson ‘21

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Hiraeth I live in a constant state of hiraeth and I thought you could be home Always lost and never found, for a long time I’ve been alone.

But as soon as your eyes met mine, My hands suddenly itched to, with yours, be intertwined.

Obliging my mess of a heart was no mistake Until I gave it to you to hold and you let it break I’d give anything for another quiet moment with you, Under the night sky with only the stars to witness the way my heart now belongs to someone new.

Or lying next to each other in daylight in a grassy field Only the sun and the sky to watch all the walls which to you I’d yield.

I tell myself it’s better things turned out like this, “just because.”

After all, it feels better than mourning so much for a home that never was.

- Adele Feldberg ‘22

Meg Turner ‘20

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A Sonnet for Youth A storm of hatred threatens to close in Their suffering and pain brings them to tears, The children scream their sorrows from within The watchers crowd but somehow no one hears.

They see inside themselves a mess of flaws So many fingers point with eyes too blind, As self esteem is mauled by vicious claws That tear apart what others leave behind.

As desperate eyes beg for a sign of hope The ‘wiser’ ones they trust throw up their hands The children sob and wonder how to cope With losing their bright future in these lands.

Yet still they persevere for what is right Together start the endless search for light - Grace Bullard ‘22

Caroline Vining ‘20

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The Smiling Coast of West Af rica The smiling coast of West Africa.

The elongated state who is consumed by its neighboring pacman-like country: Senegal.

Ceaseless sand whose minute particles follow you beyond the threshold of the beach.

Your heels submerge in the sand as you traverse the golden sheet like a twig that is thrusted into the depths of uniform layered soil.

A wind who speaks to me in its love language.

Children whose eyes, ears, nose, and mouth gape at me, recognizing that I am one of them but not.

Langley Steuart ‘20

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Kelly Shannon ‘20

A people who will pluck a mango from its branches and sprinkle a pinch of salt before devouring its luscious flavor.

Men who sit in their shops and spend hours honing their skills in wood carving as they gnaw on their chew sticks.

The distinct creaking of gates that children dash to unlatch when they hear the car emit two rapid beeps.

Organic dishes they ingest, the magical flavors extracted from natural herbs of Wild African trees and exotic fruits.

Bustling market places where “excuse me” becomes an extinct phrase, the tight cluster of bodies and cacophony of sound resembling a pack of swarming bees.

These people that I speak of, they are not simply “those” people, but rather a people rooted within me.

- Rohey Colley ‘20

Langley Steuart ‘20

Maddie Ogletree ‘22

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Monachopsis Something feels wrong But I don’t know what it is Something in my heart knows “I don’t fit in here” But my mind replies, “But where do I fit in?”

And my heart doesn’t have an answer It can tell my mind what it sees That I cling onto other misfits Other people who feel like outsiders That this makeshift home distracts me From something I should be looking for Somewhere I truly belong that I haven’t yet found My mind is fine with the distraction It feels like more than enough for now More than enough to satisfy the loneliness I’ll find my real home when I’m meant to When my heart and my head are ready And in need of a true place I fit fluidly I will find my home - Adele Feldberg ‘22 Kelly Shannon ‘20

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Langley Steuart ‘20

Cora Beswick ‘21

Promises Every single thingI did it for her.

The little girl in the mirror, she’s why I get up every morning.

I wonder if she’d be proud of me, even though she wanted me to be an astronaut.

Maybe she’d feel bad for me, maybe she’d be disappointedwho knows, maybe she’d be proud.

She never imagined I’d turn out like this, but I’m sure she doesn’t mind.

Everything I do, I do it for her, hoping one day, I’ll finally make her smile.

To the little girl who always waves back at me in the mirror, this is for you.

Promise me you’ll never stop smiling, and I promise I’ll never stop trying.

I promise I’ll stay alive, I know that’s what you’d want; I swear that I’ll stay above ground.

To the little girl who never stopped smiling, tomorrow, I promise I’ll smile back.

To my little girl, I promise to always stay little.

To my 4 year old self who never stopped waving, today I promise I’ll wave back.

Thank you for keeping me alive.

- Anonymous

Kelly Shannon ‘20

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Heartworm I miss you and I can’t stop thinking about you About us I miss how close we were before it all fell apart How comfortable I was with you Maybe I shouldn’t still be hoping that this isn’t over That our friendship hasn’t completely faded yet Maybe I should’ve moved on by now And found a new best friend But I’ve never been as close to anyone as I was to you I’ve never had a relationship so strong that I keep thinking about the person for months after they’ve left Until you

You were the closest to home I’ve had since dancing in the campfire light when I was ten I was more aware of the warmth of our fire than of the danger of being burned But the burns only remind me of you I can’t get you out of my head Can’t stop hoping that the embers of our flame could be used to start another fire It feels like it’s still alive, like it never died And I don’t want us to be over just yet - Adele Feldberg

‘22

-

Langley Steuart ‘20

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Meg Turner ‘20

Untitled My best friend has been friends with me for fourteen years. We do everything together and we talk about everything with each other. My best friend lives right down the hall from me in my house and I have even been told we look alike. If you couldn’t tell from this description, my best friend is my sister. She is definitely one of the greatest people I have in my life. We disagree on a lot of things and mock each other all the time but within five minutes we are close again. Unfortunately, I will have to leave my best friend in two years. Part of me is ready to leave home. But one huge part of me doesn’t want to leave because I won’t have my partner in crime by my side everyday.

- Anonymous

Maddie Ogletree ‘22

Cora Beswick ‘21

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Caroline Moore ‘21

dies start walking when the dead bo nger gleams when the sun no lo dies start walking when the dead bo no longer dream when the children rn to poison when the flowers tu are no longer seen when the rainbows ly ashes when the fire is on turn to green when the blues all turns to anger when the laughter l start to crack when full hearts al rns to winter snow when summer air tu k cheeks turn to blac when the blush of

ly turn to war when peace can on n only attack when technology ca oved impossible when aliens are pr starts to slack when every worker ns blue when red blood ru to shine s se when the sun refu e are th only view when skyscrapers es every headline when death consum dies start walking when the dead bo rns to cancer when healthiness tu dies start walking when the dead bo answer when god begins to - Peyton Harmon ‘20

Maddie Olgetree ‘22

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Maddie Olgetree ‘22

Human Rights Geometry When they put us in squares, We plead with the edges For mercy, For understanding In the suspect’s chair Wringing our hands, Until they open the doors

When they put us in stars, We shout at the points Demanding attention, Demanding justice The screaming alarm That will not stop, Until they open the doors

When they put us in triangles, We claw at the corners All desperation, All passion The tiger in a cage Fierce and afraid, Until they open the doors

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When they put us in circles, What can we do?

No edges to plead with, No corners to claw at, No points to shout at, They tell us to be happy But we do not stop

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Naina Makkad ‘21

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Untitled Green turns to fire Vibrant leaves grow old and fall The trees mourn lost friends Silent the fox hunts White snows hide the winter furs Success! ---Prey lies cold

Maddie Ogletree ‘22

Warm breath melts the snow, Cold water feeds the river, Mother wakes, to catch fish Blazing rainbows soar, Living flames own the treetops.

Their calls echo on - Kim Ross ‘20

Caroline Moore ‘21

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Mom

Zoe Marsiglia ‘20

She wakes up She washes off She wakes us up She walks off She cooks up She looks off She listens up She drops off She lifts up She works her ass off She packs up She drives off She picks up She drives off She walks up She puts off She cooks up She loves us - Kelly Shannon ‘20

Caroline Vining ‘20

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Once upon a time I saw the moon through the clouds; the love song of the Earth and Sun, our celestial lover.

She saw our love from a looking glass, A magnified version of my inequities.

I saw her through the clouds, And she saw me through the moon.

Nothing more than a shining speck in the sky, but she was more than that to me.

She lit up my evening walks with her embracing light, but she turned herself away from me during the day.

The stars know all her secrets, only Jupiter knows where she’s been.

And there I am, standing clueless; me and the moon, have we really made amends?

100 years go by, 100 years of wasted time.

I thought I knew her better, but it was her fault, not mine.

The days turned into nights, and she took back her loving light.

And then I was left in the darkness, with only my foolishness left to fight.

I saw the moon through the clouds.

The love song of my life; She, the moon, and I the earth; and a billion watching stars.

Jorgia Walker ‘21

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- Gabrielle Olumilua ‘23

Semaphorism I’m in a conversation with some other people And I have something I could say But I don’t I just hum or nod, A gesture to silently say “I know the feeling” Even with the anecdote left unspoken as the conversation continues I feel like I’ve contributed I’ve shown understanding I’ve sympathized The small gesture makes me feel like I’ve written words of invisible ink Something that someone saw me wrote But they’ll never know what those words were Like it’s my own little secret for now - Adele Feldberg ‘22

Kelly Shannon ‘20

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Longing The sun sets on the battlefront of war Waiting for those poor and traumatized men Who can’t stop thinking about this anymore The fight will begin, but will it end? When?

These scared and poor men will fight for their life They will risk it all for our survival Every night he thinks of his lonely wife Loved ones waiting upon his arrival

Thinking of those sunny, warm, breeze-filled days The way the men and their families were Longing to go back to those fun-filled ways However, now everything is a blur

These sad, poor men have their hearts filled with fear They only dream of going home next year

- Fiona Murphy ‘23 Cailley Slaten ‘20

Caroline Moore ‘21

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Untitled Chilly air fills me Refreshing me when outside Cold nights soon to come - Brooke Lennon ‘20

Clare Siffermann ‘22

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Untitled

Maybe I am A Proud Sand Castle That brought joy, Inspired, Then crumbled.

Pulled to sea And now Mellllts,,,, A grey mound Sinnnking into oblivion Maybe I am A Cardinal’s nest Filled with life, Loved, Then abandoned.

Empty And now Falllls,,,, A mess of twigs Stepped on by angry boots Maybe I am A Bright Blue Balloon That bounced, Flew, Then deflated.

Resigned.

And now Drifts,,, An empty shell Draaining color Or Maybe I’m just hungry Dakota Doresy ‘23

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- Anonymous

Jorgia Walker ‘21

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Untitled 6:30am. I hear your voice urging me to leave my bed and start getting ready to go to school. I grudgingly get out of bed. I drag my feet in the direction of the bathroom as I silently wish to myself that I get my favorite cereal for breakfast or a free period waiting for me at school. 30 minutes later, I come out of the bathroom spotlessly dressed. My uniform skirt is crisp and ironed to perfection. My shirt is neatly tucked in.

I walk into the kitchen. There it is. My favorite cereal. Sure, it has some protein cereal mixed in, but I’m happy nonetheless. After looking at your face, I notice you look more tired than usual. Your eyes are aching for rest. I wonder if you got enough sleep last night. I wonder if you stayed up late glued to your work. I wonder what happened when my eyes were glued shut.

12:00pm. It’s time for lunch. Today, I’m missing you more than ever.

I don’t why. I guess it’s because I’m scared. I guess I’m paranoid that all of the good things until now would end. I really like my new school. I really like my new friends. I really like this. I’m just afraid that the happiness that we built together will wash away. You’ve been my stable base in my building of happiness. No matter what happened, you’ve been a constant in my life. I guess I’ve never realized that until now.

3:30pm. I finally see you. After a long long day. You seem to have missed me as much I missed you. I see that you’re stressed. I see the worry that you try and conceal with a loving smile. You seem to forget all of your daily worries and eagerly ask me about my day.

Unfortunately, I can only say an “It was fine, mom” before going on my phone in the car on the way home.I guess I couldn’t tell you how much I missed you. I guess I was too tired to form words at that moment.

Cora Beswick ‘22

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6:00pm. Tea time. My favorite time of the day. The warm smell of chai spreads across the room like a comfy blanket. I slowly sip my chai as I finish my homework or get ready for basketball practice. Your eyes are practically closed at this point.

However, somehow you muster up whatever little energy you have in you to take me to practice. Even though your head is pounding, you let me blast music in the car because you know it helps me focus. Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

11pm. As I lie awake in bed, processing my day. I stumble on the same question as I did all day. Why were you so tired?

Little did I know, you woke up as soon as the grocery store opened to get my favorite cereal even after staying up to finish that presentation for work. I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how you could balance me and work. Keeping you as an example, I try to work as hard as I possibly can. You’ve built me. You’ve molded me like clay. You taught me what love is. You taught me how to be myself. You let me explore. You understand me better than I understand myself. Your smile brightens my day like a ray of sunshine seeping into the window on days when I can’t seem to wake up on time. Your presence makes all of this unruly change much calmer.

I guess the smell of protein powder waffles is what keeps me grounded. I guess seeing everyone keeps me happy. I guess watching Bollywood movies throughout the weekend is what keeps me connected to what comforts me most. I wouldn’t have any of it without you. All of the blessings. All of the successes.

All of the lessons. I wouldn’t be me without you.

thank you mama.

- Preeti Kulkarni ‘23

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Untitled

Alone, not lonely So clichĂŠd, so overused Overwhelming truth - Anonymous

Jorgia Walker ‘21

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Catopric Tristesse

Every time I look in the mirror, I wonder how real the reflection is In every photograph of myself I see, I wonder how accurate it is The same way I wonder about how right I am in my thoughts about myself Which things are distorted by my perspective?

Which things do I see as clearly as through any lens?

Sometimes I wish I could see myself through someone else’s eyes To see how I appear to others To see what others really think of others To see what I’d think of myself if the person wearing this face weren’t me - Adele Feldberg ‘22

Kelly Shannon ‘20

32

Insert Artsy Title Here This is just a stupid poem I know you don’t expect too much, The word choice is deplorable My rhyme scheme is a crutch I know that you’re expecting An artsy twist at the end But your logic I’m correcting It will not happen, my friend.

I wrote this poem in a big rush, I clearly didn’t care my brain was just a lump of mush And my focus wasn’t there I guess this is the last paragraph I don’t really feel like writing more A conclusion attempt would just make you laugh So there it is - Grace Bullard ‘22

Meg Turner ‘20

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The Power of Disney Magic

Sweaty and miserable we knew what was coming The excitement and the magical feeling was becoming We just accomplished the only obstacle standing in our way The only thing to do next was to sleep the night away

Waking up early before the sun even rose Putting on our planned outing clothes Knowing what is planned that day Rushing down stairs to eat breakfast right away

The anticipation on the trip there was killing me

Hoping the rest of the team would come quick so we could be let free

Hopping out, full of potential energy, ready to go

Knowing that everyone’s faces were already aglow Grabbing our tickets and rushing off Skipping the long line standoff Arriving at the gates

knew there were memories to create

From this ride to that one Not realizing I was having so much fun Getting in line to a ride full of magic It broke down - oh so tragic

As the sun began to fall Our energy was starting to crawl Walking as fast as we could To get a spot we stood

Boom, Boom, Boom, as the fireworks dance Knowing this moment will be a glance Crying with my friends Hoping this never ends

The power of Disney magic is so moving

Allowing us to create memories that are not disproving Treasuring moments that I want to last - Kelly Shannon ‘20

Even though they should be left in the past

Zoe Marsiglia ‘20

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Cora Beswick ‘20

Untitled what do we do when there is nothing to do and the colors we see run away from our eyes and the sounds we hear drag us through a fog that tastes like a bitten toungue and there is nothing half full? half empty? none at all

Danielle Seay ‘21

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Cora Beswick ‘20

from head to toe from eyes to knees from fingernails to heart there is nothing so what do we do when there is nothing to do - Anonymous

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Little Onion Sprout Little onion sprout The crisp dying breath of life

Will end your dance soon

Why continue so?

Dwarfed by red gold pirouettes Threatened by grey winds

Kelly Shannon ’20

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Were you left behind?

Reaching for the soft harsh sun Forgotten acorn

Little onion sprout Live beyond that icy shriek Dance again next spring

- Zoe Marsiglia ’20

Danielle Seay ’21

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Infinity

I turn around to the sounds of excited whispering and the frantic clicks of the fire-maker. I’m not allowed to touch the fire-maker, no matter how many times I’ve asked to flick the switch and wield its dancing flame.

Every time I twist around I’m treated to a collection of “Not yets” and “Stop turning!” as if what they were doing was discreet. I shrug my shoulders and concede to the fact that I’ll do it better at my kid’s birthday. It’s the thought that counts.

A lop-sided moshpit of catter-wailing fills the living room with familiar smiles, as a slightly-toowarm-buttercream-melting-just-a-bit cake walks in, baked with love and frosted with an uncertain hand. My cousins wanted to bake it this year. My mom rolls her eyes- she usually makes the cakes.

Normally we get the colored candles; the ones that melt too soon and get wax on the frostingit’s like a tradition that the birthday girl gets to pick the candles off the cake one-by-one, licking them clean of any edible matter and some non-edible as well.

But this year, I wanted something different. This year I was turning eight, and that meant something. This year I wanted one of those candles you see in the bakery section of the Safeway, with all the plastic packages and generic balloon cakes. The candles that you always ask for, pleading eyes and puckered lips- “But mom, look, look!” This year, I wanted a candle in the shape of the number eight.

There it sat, slightly melted in the wrong spots from mis-clicks of the fire-maker, spotted and the same as always. As crazy as it was, it was my eight. My eight that had little polka-dots and a flame dancing so perfectly above its second loop. Everyone starts rushing their cacophony so that there’s still a candle left for me to blow out, since a quarter of it is already pooling onto the cake.

The light comes into view, and almost matches the light in my eyes as I realize how close I am to officially turning my age. Technically I became eight at 7:43, but no one cares about that. They set the plate down on the table, ready for me to make a wish. They all instruct me to, as if I hadn’t been thinking about what I’d wish for since the last candle. I know what I want.

But as I go in for the final blow, I hear a little gasp. I open my eyes, which were closed in excitement and in pure self-protection. The eight has fallen over on its side, and the wick is still lit.

My dad scrambles to right it, but the dent has been made, and the wish that I had so carefully chosen goes out the window as I recognize the other shape an eight makes while on its side, the curves going in and out of each other in an infinite loop.

Before he has a chance to fix it, I squeeze my eyes tight and whisper,

“I wish to be infinite.”

Kelly Shannon ‘20

A rush of air. A sudden loss in ambiance. Applause.

- Anonymous

37

Kelly Shannon ‘20

38

For my Dreamers

For my people around the world with instruments In bare hands of black and white and yellow and brown, Smiling and crying and laughing and gasping, Prancing and dancing and running, singing and screaming On empty colorless pages;

For my people that venture in the caves of empty Minds, in the caves of rough dirt and shining crystal, Dusting digging working scrubbing stomping Punching kicking scrapping washing brushing Capturing undeveloped shapes that never seem to grow Ever seeing truth in a faint light;

Clare Siffermann ‘22

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For the objects we find collecting dust in our studios, Found and cleaned, polished and shined, used for Unknown uses, brighten and lighten to inspire Future generations of re-users, repurpose, to Reignite the wanted candles;

We will raise our fists. We will make the dreary see Through our lense. We will spread our flame through The real world and let the hatred see our light. We will Be the star they look up to, a star they will follow, A burning passion they will embrace. Let spirits be risen To the colorful paper we create. Let a new world form From the seeds we will plant. Let a generation of dreamers Not hesitate to stand.

For my people in silence within their bodies, detained Behind desks and baggy eyes wondering when we can Pour our hearts, release the pain, dispose our pleasant Thoughts with colored water onto dry hard thin Parchment, sticky notes, paper and any surface; - Anonymous

Caroline Vining ‘20

40

Untitled

Times are changing. Especially for women.

This is a great thing, but it also frightens me.

This is an age in which people tell women “You can do anything you want to!” They mean this to be comforting, a phrase meant to amend the attitude of the past, but when I hear it, I feel only pressure.

Pressure to know exactly what I want to do, when I don’t.

Pressure to leave my mark on the world even at only sixteen years old, when I am still discovering who I am.

Pressure to receive that remark as confidence, when I feel only doubt in myself to live up to it.

Pressure to represent the entire female race as being strong, just as strong as men. There is no doubt in my mind that we are, but sometimes it seems easier to be underestimated.

It’s harder to be overestimated.

And when someone says that to me, I feel overestimated. Am I really, can I really be, as great as they believe I can be?

And it seems as though, in this new progressive age of female empowerment, that people are placing higher expectations upon females to change the world, because they haven’t had the chance to for so long.

I love all of my sisters around the world, and I am thrilled for all of us at the new opportunities we have been receiving, but part of me doesn’t want to change the world.

In fact, most of me doesn’t want to change the world. Most of me looks forward to a quiet life with kids.

I long for the traditional role of a woman, the one that feminists passionately reject, and for this I feel I would be judged.

I don’t want a high-powered job, lording my position over men who would’ve been placed above me in another lifetime.

Is it wrong that I want a quiet life, free to do what I love and be who I want to be, if I am living a life that is not one working to change the world?

As I’m writing this, I’m realizing that nobody really probably cares whether I choose to have high ambitions or not.

But I still feel pressure.

And in admitting this, I do not mean to undermine the accomplishments of women who have wanted to and succeeded in changing the world, and those who are prepared to follow in their footsteps. I believe that these women will change the world, and I am thrilled that they are there and prepared to do it in their own unique ways, but I don’t know if I want to be beside them.

Women are amazing, and there are those among us who will change the world. There will also be those who won’t, in a large way, but those who will make their mark upon it by building their lives free of pressure and always supporting those who uplift the rest of us.

- Anonymous

Caroline Vining ‘20

Kelly Shannon ‘20

41

Gnossienne It’s weird how some things never change I’ve known you for years And you still have the same smile You still have the same favorite movie And the same least favorite relative The same worst memory And the same favorite time of night And it’s astounding how things change How people change I’ve known you for years And your hands have become so rough and calloused Your eyes have become so much more tired You want different things than you used to Your thoughts of yourself change so often I can’t keep track And even after all the years I’ve known you There are some things I’ll never know about you In the house of your personality and memories There’s a whole floor full of your thoughts and memories I’ll never know Neither of us has a map to the house or a key And I don’t know where I stand in there Am I in that house at all?

- Adele Feldberg ‘21

Cora Beswick ‘21 Langley Steuart ‘20

42

Windows I sit by a window and watch a breeze come by.

It hits the trees and the leaves rustle, the flowers sway, The sun glints through the clouds, through the air, Through the glass and onto my face a window and watch a breeze come by.

The window moves away, I seeI sit myby reflection, It hits the trees and the leaves rustle, the flowers sway, I smile, I wave, I make funny faces,

The sun glints through the clouds, through the air, Through the glass and onto my face I look back through the clear glass The window moves away, I see my reflection, I touch the smooth surface I smile, I wave, I make funny faces, The glimpse into the world sets me at ease I look back through the clear glass I could sit here all day I touch the smooth surface - Katie Harwood ‘20

Kelly Shannon ‘20

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Caroline

Vining ‘20

For My Young Activists

For my people campaigning to bring about political and social changes, for those living in communities across the globe trying to have a voice. For my young activists who search for an outlet or a new set of ears to which they can express their opinions and suggestions. For teenagers who scream from the mountain tops at the government and corporations that they should be afraid, who are told we don’t know what we are saying.

For my environmentalists, who are watching the Arctic melt, the Amazon burn, and the Barrier Reef bleach. The individuals who care enough to reduce, reuse, and recycle and yearn to get their points across. For my activists, strong girls, women, like Greta Thunberg, who strike and protest and educate. They speak for the trees and the animals who cannot speak for themselves only for there to still be pollutants in the air and tonnes of plastic in the ocean.

For my feminists who believe in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes. The people who, in the face of adversity, nevertheless, persisted. For those constantly demanding for equal pay only to come to the reality that, in the same job, women earn seventy-six cents for every dollar that a man earns. For the little girls who have to grow up in a world where they immediately see inequalities and barriers based upon their gender and having to fight them. For those whose goal it is to redefine their generation’s definition of a woman.

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For my students taking not only moments of silence for their classmates and peers who have passed, but upstanding and speaking out in their communities about the regulation of assault rifles. For the students who are being told someone can do the same thing with a knife as they can with a gun and that there is nothing that we could have done to prevent these tragedies. While we scream at the government for regulation only for them to tell us that we are too young and unintelligent as they sit on their high horse and chairs in the Senate funded by the NRA. Let there be new pedagogies set in place to help young children believe that they can instigate change. For my young activists hoping that we are taken seriously or have the power to get a point across; Let there be a new era where big corporations and government workers will not patronize us for a lack of knowledge on subjects for which we have faced their repercussions in our daily lives. That the new daily life of a teenager and an activist is filled with opportunities to educate others and impact our communities on a large scale.

- Callie Mowry ‘21

Caroline

1

Moore ‘2

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Metamorphosis Summer colors fade Strawberries and bananas Paint green leaves - earth cools Walnut between teeth Fork digging into pie crust Feet crunch grounded leaves Raw skeleton bones Take off scarf and warm hat Coat striped - naked trees Layers of blanket Oven rises warm spice bread Fluff stacked on bear trees - Anonymous

Kelly Shannon ‘20

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Maddie Ogletree ‘22

Nature Swaying in the wind A neighborhood gatheringGlorious Structure Just another home, Diversity within itWater meets the sand Looking left and right Virtual realitySoaring side by side Smiling brightly, Radiation glisteningNow I set behind - Anonymous

Caroline Vining ‘20

Cora Beswick ‘21

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Staffer Credits:

Editors of Callithump ....Cover Caroline Speidel & Kelly Shannon ....1-2 Danielle Seay ....3-4 Emma Dowd & Maria DiBari ....5-6 Jade Fanning ....7-8 Naina Makkad ....9-10 Cailley Slaten ....11-12 Maddie Olgetree ....13-14 Eileen Hannah ....15-16 Kelly Shannon ....17-18 Langley Steuart ....19-20 Natalie Peoples ....21-22 Lilly Calogero ....23-24

Caroline Vining ‘20

49

25-26.... Maddie Pilkington 27-28.... Emily Hammack 29-30.... Lourdes Russell 31-32.... Danielle Seay 33-34.... Rachel Nokku 35-36.... Jamison Rodgers & Katherine Vaca 37-38.... Erin Shannon 39-40.... Sophia Strandberg 41-42.... Jodie Urbanski 43-44.... Adrianna Kapust 45-46.... Clare Siffermann 47-48.... Megan Turner 49-50.... Kelly Shannon 51.... Cailley Slaten

Caroline Vining ‘20

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