by Shane Fultz
Marker on portfolio cover created in Ms. Leatherman’s Art I.
Assignment: Design the cover of your personal artwork portfolio by drawing your name in one point linear perspective, using a letter style of your choice. Color your name with 2 or more colors using a gradation that progresses toward the vanishing point. Optional: Design a background of your choice to fill the negative space.
by Mariam Hussain
Pencil sketch created in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.
Assignment: Students studied Beowulf as an archetype of the depiction of war and warriors. In groups, students identified key descriptive text passages, illustrated them, and constructed class comic books retelling Beowulf’s story.
by Breana Mizia
Black and white photograph created in Ms. Barillaro’s Photography II.
Assignment: Students take black and white photographs, then develop the negatives in the lab and prints in the darkroom.
Cathy no llores más
Yo nunca te voy a engañar
Yo te quiero mucho y tú me quieres
Y nunca te voy a lastimar
Siempre yo creeré en ti
Nunca dudare de ti
Mi destino es estar contigo
Y nunca te voy a dejar
Sola tú nunca estarás
Yo seré tú cura
Para cuando te sientas mal
Si empiezo a pensar
De que tú jefa nos quiere separar
Me duele el corazón y comienzo a llorar
Pues mija yo siempre te voy a amar
Y nunca lo vayas a dudar
Tú jefa nunca nos va a poder separar
Pues yo nací para contigo estar
En el bien o en el mal
Ninguna frontera nos va a separar
Pues junto tú y yo
Los problemas vamos a enfrentar.
Yo con mi mirada te digo
“Que siempre estaré contigo
Pues tú eres mi todo, eres mi destino”
Nadie nos podrá separar
Enamorados tú y yo siempre vamos a andar.
Esos ojitos cafeces
Hacen que me hunda con placeres
Pues tú me tienes loquito
Desde el día que mis ojitos
Sintieron tú mirada
Y déjame también decirte
Lo que siento yo en mi alma
Lo que siento en mi corazón
Que palpita y se emociona
Tan solo con oír tú voz, tú sola voz
Tú suave voz, tú dulce voz.
by Jose Mendez
Written in Ms. Thesing’s Advanced Topics in Spanish.
by Daniel Choi
Black and white photograph created in Ms. Barillaro’s Photography I.
Assignment: Students take black and white photographs, then develop the negatives in the lab and prints in the darkroom.
A man of torn consciousness
The final day for a choice
Sunny and cold
Stiff breeze coming in from the north
Surrounded by a vastness
The engine of the boat starts
The shore comes at the man
Tightness in his chest
The shore only twenty yards away
Scared to choose
A man now trying to smile
A man crying
His chest squeezing tighter
His heart frozen
A man truly lost
A man forced to choose a path
Crushing sorrow engulfing
Hope turned to a pitiful fantasy
Understanding
The brave route would not be chosen
Flashbacks
The whole universe appearing before his eyes
Not knowing what is and isn’t real
But everything is real to him
The boat rocking underneath him
The wind and the sky as forces upon him
The final yielding
Realizing and accepting truth
His fear of embarrassment
His final submission
by Daniel Salgado
Composed in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.
Assignment: Write a found poem by borrowing language from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.
by Marco Romero
Glazed earthenware created in Ms. Leatherman’s Art I.
Assignment: Design a teapot that doesn’t look like a teapot.
by Rainah Wendt
Marker on portfolio cover created in Ms. Leatherman’s Art I.
Assignment: Design the cover of your personal artwork portfolio by drawing your name in one point linear perspective, using a letter style of your choice. Color your name with 2 or more colors using a gradation that progresses toward the vanishing point. Optional: Design a background of your choice to fill the negative space.
by Maxen Jack-Monroe
Maiah pressed the skip button seven times, then “play” on the boom box she knew her family would never get rid of. The CD was one she knew her family would never get rid of either, a symbol of the early days when her father’s talent as a musician was still appreciated enough to allow them to afford what other families could afford. She then closed her eyes, laid back and listened to the colors. The sharp yet sensual sound of the soprano sax which melted into magenta, then violet, then blue again. Along with it was soprano’s cousin the alto; all raspberry and lime which emerged from the tenor, a treat of chocolate brown, then cafe au lait tan, finished off with the deepest of cherry reds. And finally the baritone, the big cousin that soprano was always afraid of. Deep and regal, its sound a bar graph of desert orange and midnight blue.
Along with the colors, Maiah could hear the smells. She could not determine the individual smells of each instrument, but the scent of the quartet together was unmistakable. A mixture of hot Indian curry, white chocolate mocha, jasmine and just a hint of lavender. Such aromas would never mesh well in the real world, but in this world it reeked divinity.
by Kevin Flanagan
It was a dark, rainy Saturday night in the cold December of 2015, and for Edgar Poe, it was the night that complete and utter mayhem would start to break loose in his life. Edgar was a simple man, other than the fact that he had inherited seven trillion dollars from his dead parents. Maybe money brings some smiles to many individuals, but for Edgar, money was not what brought his own happiness. Edgar had always thought of money as something useless, for it was always saved up, and then spent on a greatly advertised product that was a disappointing scam. Edgar knew that the key to happiness was not money, but being loved, belonging, having a friend. This is why Edgar had been drinking, trying to drown his sorrows, almost all day long, everyday. His dog, Junk had been diagnosed with cancer, and Edgar was told the dog would die, no questions asked. Edgar was not a smart one, and was ignorant to how much care the dog needed, and poor Junk was wasting away at home while his owner was out crying, draining his tears into his cold booze. So, Edgar was desperate to keep his dog alive without attending to his needs. This was a very dumb way of going about things. Junk was the only thing Edgar had left. His parents bought Junk for Edgar when he was only ten years old, and he was still lasting while Edgar was thirty.
Edgar unlocked the door to his little town house in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and peered through the open door to the living room at Junk, lying on his little doggy bed, sleeping in dead silence. The good thing was, Junk was not actually dead. Edgar took one look at Junk and burst into tears for about the third time that night. He could not bear to watch his friend die like this. Edgar took the wet casing off of the newspaper and threw it in the trash bin. The front page exclaimed, “The New Way to Save a Friend?” This startled Edgar, and interested him immediately. What could this be? My Junk, could he be saved by some sort of stopper in death? The first thoughts of Edgar were completely inaccurate to what he was going to read in the front page story, but at least he had hope. After unfolding the paper, Edgar began to read without taking his shoes off, excited for what the article might have in store for good old Junk.
You sliver.
You slink.
Throughout me you spread.
I am NOT afraid of you.
You may think you control me.
But I am stronger.
So much STRONGER.
You are in me alone.
I have my loved ones by my side.
My friends.
My family.
Even my words will take you down.
It’s a million against one.
You will soon be no more.
Demon.
Be gone.
I am counting down.
3, 2, 1 …
by Maxen Jack-Monroe
Written in Writers’ Bloc, the writing club sponsored by Ms. Sunderdick.
by Eve Long
Foam cutouts and tissue paper. Created with Ms. McClellan.
by Kenya Elder-Toussaint
Marker on construction paper created in Ms. Menegay’s Chinese I.
Assignment: Create a welcome banner for exchange students and teachers visiting from China.
by Hannah Terle
Sponge painting created with Ms. Freedman.
I choose a life for myself,
Just another book on the shelf,
Paralysis that took my heart,
Is this idea smart?
I’m at a moral freeze,
As I ponder here on my knees.
All I could do was cry,
As I ask myself why,
Silly and hopeless,
But this war is so senseless,
Swimming away from my hometown, my country, and my life,
I could lose my future wife,
Bobbing there,
Do I really dare?
Looking back at the Minnesota shore,
A loud stadium roar,
My mother, father, the townsfolk, and my brother,
Urging toward one shore or the other,
And right then I submitted,
I would go to war I admitted.
by Maura Dougherty
Composed in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.
Assignment: Write a found poem by borrowing language from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.
by Zemi Herring-Escoto
Selected for the permanent collection of artwork displayed at Central Office.
Charcoal on paper created in Ms. Barillaro’s Art IV.
Assignment: Senior studio students used charcoal to develop values with a direct light source to show form and texture.
by Hannah Terle
Tissue paper. Created with Ms. Freedman.
by Eve Long
Tissue paper and yarn. Created with Ms. McClellan.
by Nate Buechler
Charcoal on paper created in Ms. Barillaro’s Art III AP.
Assignment: Senior studio students used charcoal to develop values with a direct light source to show form and texture.
by Emily Dixon
Charcoal on paper created in Ms. Barillaro’s Art III.
Assignment: Senior studio students used charcoal to develop values with a direct light source to show form and texture.
