2018 Hippocrene : Issue 27 by Avon Old Farms School

HIP

E N E R C O P

2018

â&#x20AC;¢ 26 ISSUE

Hippocrene 2017 – 2018

The Arts & Literary Magazine of Avon Old Farms School

WRITERS & POETS Alexander Henrich ’21 (p.4) Jemar Mack Jr. ’21 (p.5, 7) John Morris ’19 (p.6) John Louder ’20 (p.8) Andrew Liptrot ’18 (p.9, 13, 47) Oisin Duncan ’18 (p.10) John Zadrozny ’21 (p.12) Millan Jain ’21 (p.16)

Aidan Radtke ’21 (p.18) Sean Cho ’19 (p.19) Jared Hunter ’19 (p.21) Preston Sayyah ’18 (p.24) Jeronimo Amezcua ’21 (p.27) Cal Votta ’19 (p.27) Matthew Batts ’18 (p.28) Anonymous ’18 (p.31)

Saagar Motupally ’21 (p.32) Charles Di Bona ’19 (p.35) Pinlin Xu ’21 (p.36, 50) Nolan Morr ’19 (p.39) John Spearman F, P (p.41) Ian Blatchford ’19 (p.44) Xihe Li ’20 (p.45) William Overcash ’18 (p.48)

ARTISTS & PHOTOGRAPHERS Graham Deckers ’20 (cover, p.34, 37) Jiaxing Zhang ’20 (p.4, 12, 26, 49, 50) Luc Anderson ’18 (p.5, 17) Cameron Andrews ’19 (p.6) Thomas Shaw ’18 (p.7,8) Yoshi Niimura ’18 (p.9) Matthew Jensen ’19 (p.11, 15, 29, b/cvr.)

Boon Bhakdibhumi ’18 (p.17) Kaito Minami ’21 (p.18) Henry Coons ’71, F, P (p.19) Bon Bhakdibhumi ’19 (p.20) Pinlin Xu ’21 (p.22) Joon Ho Lee ’18 (p.23) Christopher Calcinari ’19 (p. 24)

Pengyu Si ’19 (p.30, 46) Daichi Ono ’19 (p.33) Robert Aughtry ’19 (p.38) Roland Bryan ’18 (p. 40) Samantha Jensen F, P (p.43) Sean Desjardins ’21 (p.44, 47) Max Gart ’20 (p.48)

EDITORS & DESIGNERS Andrew Liptrot ’18 Charles Di Bona ’19 John Morris ’19 Graham Deckers ’20 Jiaxing Zhang ’20

FACULTY ADVISORS Samantha Jensen

•

Bob Dully

•

Cristina Pinton

AVON OLD FARMS SCHOOL

Front Cover – Graham Deckers ’20

the n I

ve uni

rse

EARTH

There is no n orth sou th

east

west

oati We a r e j u s t f l

– Alexander Henrich ’21

– Luc Anderson ’18

– Jiaxing Zhang ’20

– Jemar Mack Jr. ’21

It’s You

As I look into your eyes I see blue The color that reminds me of the sea And of the skies. I cannot escape you. The chains of your love will not set me free. I travel far, yet you guide me back home To the familiar place where I belong In your warm embrace where I cannot roam And I know that loving you is not wrong. Thoughts of you stay in my mind all the time But they are not enough. You’re what I need. I question if loving you is a crime; When I see you my heart begins to bleed. Somehow I know, that you’re the only one And you are to blame for who I’ve become. 4

Power

What is power? Do you need it, crave it? Or are you only hoping for it to leave you aloneIn your cold dark isolation.

I won’t take the easy way out; I won’t be a deceiver. I wear my pride on my sleeve I’m a Winged Beaver. – John Morris ’19

Power can’t just leave, It needs a host like you. It needs somebody to feed off of and to control It needs your beating heart and your worried mind to follow it. So it doesn’t become irrelevant. Like you.

I won’t be late or absent; I will be early and eager To learn and grow As a Winged Beaver. The brotherhood is deep: Goalies, pitchers and receivers. We all share the blood Of the Winged Beaver. Other schools lack the character; With common Bears or Eagles. No other has the aspiration Of the Winged Beaver. – Jemar Mack Jr. ’21

Winged Beaver

– Cameron Andrews ’19

– Thomas Shaw ’18

A PART OF MY

When I was 3 years old, my parents put me on skates, and I fell in

LOVE.

People always ask me why I let hockey take up so much of my time. I tell them I don’t know, because if I tried to explain to them why, they would think I am

C R A Z Y. – John Louder ’20

–Yoshi Niimura ’18

It holds just above the stomach, Tight and immutable. Writhe to its beat in darkened rooms, Knowing it knows you. Shadows stand clearer than their form: Contrast in the inky hours. Music sways it to surrender meaning, But feeds it too. Fight it with head, heart, and breath. It steals the three. Lash it to your lonesome nights, And it whips the days.

A Knot

Flatten it like clay and coat your insides Compound it onto others Count the rings they’ve left, count by years The depth exceeds you. 8

– Thomas Shaw ’18

– Andrew Liptrot ’18

h c a e T e W s T h e L es s o n When do they start? How quickly? The lessons we teach to our sons, Our nephews, our brothers. Not this, nor that, that’s not what boys do. side, e n o n o l. Boys o o desk. h a c f s o t a h t Then, he other, e leng h t n t a h n Girls o d by more t n up. a te Separa ’t cry, they m ght. fi on Boys d ’t hug, they on Boys d

And ang er A poor e becomes the o ut xc Then if ( use for strengt let, h. wh ******* en) he (they) s naps (sn We all w ap) onder w hy.

– Oisin Duncan ’18 10

– Matthew Jensen ’19 11

– Jiaxing Zhang ’20

WHERE HAVE THEY GONE

Eyes

Where have they gone, the greatest generation The men who fought our nation’s fight Where have they gone, the patriots of our nation The ones who flew our flag with delight

only eyes

Where have they gone, the laborers of this land Who worked two jobs to make ends meet

maybe ears for flavor

Where have they gone, the ones who bravely stand, To keep the peace in our streets

certainly no fingers or hands

Where have they gone, the weekend cowboys Who watch the Duke and the Lone Ranger at night

nothing to reach out and grab with

Where have they gone, the real men Who know how to handle themselves in a fight

never to make or mar or move or mend

Where have they gone, our real-life heroes Who have filled our lives with such glee They are gone but not forgotten For their spirit lives on within you and me

failing to bend, break, batter, bomb, or burn or to hold, handle, or heal. not his or hers or hurting simply watching

– John Zadrozny ’21 – Andrew Liptrot ’18 12

– Matthew Jensen ’19

ANY TOWN, USA Kids excited for the school day to end. Sports practices looming. No clouds in the sky. Car rolls up, bell about to ring. Teen gets out of the car with a backpack on. As the car pulls away, teen pulls out an AR-15. Loads the gun and walks toward the school. The future in his hands. Students oblivious of what is about to happen. – Luc Anderson ’18

Gunshots. Confusion, leading to terror. Teen walking through the hallways, smile on his face. Bullets spray the school. Kids afraid, running for cover. Teachers locking down their classrooms. Teen hungry for revenge; out to kill. Students and faculty hiding in closets and under desks. Texts messages of love and fear to parents and family as they face death. Police on their way to help. Panic spreading throughout the school. Gunshots stop. Kids too scared to move. Parents rushing from work to the school. Questions racing through their mind. Is my child alive? 90 mins; 17 people gone from our country. Heartbroken on Valentine’s Day. – Millan Jain ’21

– Boon Bhakdibhumi ’18 16

King of Winter The black stood out in the white Where the two round balls Reflected off the plain white fur And the plain white powder The nothingness of the forest was disrupted By the boldness of those eyes The hare didn’t seem to move and The snow only fell when The hare’s eyes moved The trees only swayed When the hare’s eyes moved The black eyes of the white body

– Sean Cho ’19

Broke the forest The forest was ruled under the hare The eyes finally relaxed and the ears twitched And the nothingness resumed

– Kaito Minami ’21

The Stars The stars were so beautiful that night, so bright and so clear. If you were there that night, you would know what I mean. They were like Christmas lights on a perfect tree, or perhaps the light at the end of a very long tunnel, or even the one light in your house that always seems the brightest. But alas this only last a few minutes, because the show was over and I was told to leave the planetarium.

– Aidan Radtke ’21 – Aiden Radke ’21

– Henry Coons, ’71, F, P’07 19

Based on the style of Spoon River Anthology

Martin Luther King I live in a world That is unfair. Blacks are treated unjustly. I must lead a change. I will lead a movement to make things right. I HAVE A DREAM That my four little children Will live in a nation Where they are not judged by their skin color. But to achieve this dream, We must act in peace and avoid violence, Because this is the only way that our ideas will be respected.

Malcolm X I am INFURIATED WE are being treated unfairly and no change is being made!

The only way To make progress Is VIOLENCE.

“By Any Means Necessary.” Only then, will the whites Stop wronging the blacks. Only then, will we start to see change for the better. We deserve to do this. – Bon Bhakdibhumi ’19

They are the devil. This is PAYBACK. Revenge is right. Dig two graves. – Jared Hunter ’19

– Pinlin Xu ’21 22

– Joon Ho Lee ’18

Mental illness has been misunderstood time and time again, and although we are well aware of the ignorance and stigma that accompany it, the issue is quickly pushed back as if it is something that we cannot control. However if there is one thing I urge you all to leave today knowing, it’s that we can and are more than capable of controlling and helping this issue. Here are some statistics for you. Around one in every 8 adolescents has clinical depression. That could mean as many as 50 people at our school alone could be experiencing depression. There is a stigma around mental illness; 47% of people say they would feel uncomfortable living next door to someone with a mental illness, and 66% percent of parents polled say that they would feel uncomfortable with someone with a mental illness working at their children’s school. Now it might be easier to understand why someone with anxiety or depression or any other mental illness might be more hesitant or scared to talk about their issues with people around them.

– Christopher Calcinari ’19

Chapel Talk February 13th

Throughout my time at Avon, I have struggled with pretty severe depression and anxiety.

Some days, I wouldn’t feel it at all. But then there would be days where it would hit me like a tidal wave, and if you’ve experienced it, you know what I am talking about. First I would feel so tired that my body wouldn’t want to move. It felt as though something in the pit of my chest was pulling at me from the inside out and there’s nothing I could do about it. I could put on a smile and act like everything was fine, which I did. I could think to myself that I was just “having a bad day” and shrug it off, which I did for a while. Or I could just try to preoccupy myself, as if doing that would magically make that feeling go away.

The general stigma around mental illness is even more magnified amongst males. We are taught at a young age that “boys don’t cry,” or that we need to hide our emotions because we will take hits to our masculinity if we don’t. These beliefs are misconceptions and have been damaging to young men across this country. I’ve heard many times guys will reference that being open about your feelings or depression is a “girl” thing. Another statistic for you - men die almost four times as often to suicide as women do. There is nothing wrong with talking with someone about how you’re feeling, or opening up to a friend or family member. It could very well save a life. Our Speaker, Cindy Pierce made a great point about having a guy that you would be able to cry in front of if you needed to. I know I have friends like that in my life, as I have cried in front of them before when I was going through a really difficult time. I strongly agree with this point she made and while many of us might have shrugged it off or laughed at it, it really is an important thing to have and can make you feel so much better when you are really at a low point, as I am sure all of us have had before. For those who are in the same place as me, it is nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing wrong with you. Understand that it is okay to talk to others about how you are feeling. If you are having trouble finding that person to talk to, even if you don’t know me well, my door is always open. – Preston Sayyah ’18

But toward the end of the day when I was lying in bed, it would be almost impossible to fall asleep. There were many nights when I would lay awake contemplating whether or not life was worth it, and what was wrong with me. Too many times to count, I have contemplated suicide, self harm, or anything that would relieve me of these feelings. I’d think about how easy it would be to just give up and not care anymore. This wasn’t just a bad week or month. 24

I was taking a walk on New York’s street, On New York City’s most beautiful day, I was on my way to my bedroom suite, But the hotel was just too far away. It was late night and starting to get dark, But I wanted to see Times Square at night, So I stayed in the restaurant Mr. Marc, And I ﬁnally saw Times Square in light. I will be on my way to Penn Station Right after my Broadway presentation, But I just didn’t know the location That made me lose my train to the nation. Even though it was full of grafﬁti. I had the best time in New York City. – Jeronimo Amezcua ’21

I took a stroll through downtown Hartford Just to see the bright lights Illuminate the city The wind biting my face I saw a candle in a windowsill Blown out by a swift, soft breath – Cal Votta ’19

– Jiaxing Zhang ’20

College Who knew an essay could change your life? “Batts has always had a hard time with social situations. They can become difficult to understand, and turn into a misunderstanding. Although he struggles in these he is determined to figure it out. It is important for Batts to have friends that understand he might not always get their sarcasm or their nonverbal cues.” I struggled a lot in my first two years at Avon. I was angry with everyone, and my grades were bad. I had an assignment to explore The Game by Ken Dryden. The goal was to imitate his writing style while describing how people viewed me. I wanted my essay to show that I knew what was going on, how I struggled to make friendships with my peers, and my love for fishing. I was a determined person, one who liked a challenge, and my biggest challenge was finding what I was doing wrong and fixing it. During my freshman and sophomore years, I argued, and asked no one for help. I felt alone and was afraid that if I asked for help I would be looked at as a failure. Chaos seemed to follow me relentlessly, causing stress and a need to let it out. I had only a handful of friends who understood and wanted to help. Then came my repeat year. I needed to get my act together and produce some good grades. I did much better than the years previously but that wasn’t the only thing that changed. Writing the self-essay that second sophomore year was my lightbulb moment for being accountable. Everything Mr. Cantello taught about being accountable seemed to make sense now. Being accountable taught me to trust my instincts and that it is okay to ask for help. I took my self-knowledge and used it to become a better person and a better student. That essay helped me to rise above the adversity in my life. It helped me to become more aware of my actions and to ask for help when I needed it. It was my realization that I needed to change the way I interacted with others. People who want to hurt me usually have their own demons, which cause them to act out. I have changed to become a good student. I ask for help when I need it and I never give up on a project. I have become the person I want to be, and I will be forever grateful for the opportunity that essay gave me to change. – Matthew Batts ’18

– Matthew Jensen ’19

I met you in between my fourth drink and second dance. Yo u we re we ar ing th at wh ite an d bl ue sk irt an d da nc ing wi th a co y loo k of pe ac ef ul ne ss . Yo u sw un g ar ou nd ca re fu lly , no t bu mp ing int o an yo ne as if yo u ow ne d an em pt y sp ot on th e cr ow de d flo or . Yo u we re los t in a rh yt hm th at wa s tru ly yo ur ow n. Yo u ne ve r loo ke d up wh en yo ur fri en ds int ro du ce d th em se lve s an d ne ve r ac kn ow led ge d my pr es en ce ev en wh en I wa s ne xt to yo u. Th e fir st tim e I sa w yo ur ey es wa s wh en th at gu y wh o wa s wa y to o dr un k fo r hi s ow n go od st ar te d ta lki ng to yo u. Wh en he fin all y lef t it wa s so me ho w ju st us alo ne . Th at wa s th e fir st tim e yo u loo ke d at me . I ha ve ne ve r fe lt a ro om st an d as st ill as th at mo me nt did . Yo ur ey es sw all ow ed my at te nt ion . Th ey we re de ep an d my st er iou s. Th re at en ing an d inv iti ng . I co ul d se e th e re fle ct ion s of th e nig ht , an d de ep er , re fle ct ion s of my se lf. I fo un d my se lf on an isl an d wi th yo u. An isl an d in th e se a of ch ao s of th e nig ht . An isl an d of pe ac e, an isl an d of ho pe .

â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Pengyu Si â&#x20AC;&#x2122;19 30

THROUGH the WINDOW I sat in the back of a tattered off-brand car, my head against one of the unwashed windows. Aside from occasional shifts caused by the road’s unevenness, I remained still, my gaze steadily fixed on the world beyond. It was a world like none I had seen before; a world unparalleled. Through the oncoming darkness, I made out shadows of tall buildings lining the dimly-lit streets. Plastered on the each building were layers of shabby advertisements. City noise filled the air. People swarmed the sidewalks in every direction, evidently unperturbed by the litter everywhere around them. “Turn left at the next stoplight,” my mother politely commanded the driver in her native tongue, a language I could just barely comprehend. With her hands running through her black hair, she seemed relaxed, as if this was the only world she had ever known. The vehicle slowed to a halt as the turn indicator was flicked on. I had not dropped my gaze from the outside world. As the car stirred, sitting idle at the noisy intersection, I watched as a boy - no older than me – approached, limping. Straining to see through the hazy darkness beyond the window, I scanned him up and down. He wore just one gravely undersized flip flop on his left foot while his right foot went bare. Cuts and scratches disfigured his brown legs; I could not even begin to guess their origins. The scars faded behind a pair of ragged orange shorts that had clearly been subject to better days. His t-shirt lacked a sleeve, exposing cracked skin, the same color as mine. And then I saw his face, looked into his eyes, again like my own, and saw something different – defeat. As the car slowly spurred into motion, the boy held out his hands to my face in the passing window, and mouthed the words “Please help.” I remained frozen, staring at him, completely taken aback. As the car rolled on past him and completed the left turn as requested by my mother, a question tormented my eight-year-old brain: “How do I have so much, while he has so little?”

– Daichi Ono ’19 – Saagar Motupally ’21

Salt From everything that happened over those summers, I remember the salt the most. When it was sunny out and windy and the waves were choppy, I would take out a sailboat and rig it and go out on the bay and sail back and forth with the wind until the evening cooled off the water. And when I leaned back out over the gunwales to keep the boat steady in gusts, the spray from the waves got in my hair and eyes and clothes so that by the time I was done I was covered in salt. It would dry into a thin white crust I could taste on my lips and feel on my skin and make endless intricate patterns on the fabric of my bathing suit and shoes so that when I moved it cracked a little and rubbed up against me. It got in my hair, too, turning it crisp and brittle and making it stick up in all directions as I walked back through the streets of the town in the fading sun. Most people didn’t like the salt. When my friends were done with their boats they’d race home to take showers before biking out to the restaurants or the movie theater for the evening. But I liked it. I liked the crust on my skin, the scent on my clothes, the way it got in my hair. I’d go around for the rest of the day with the salt on me, feeling it break as I moved, looking at the little snowflake patterns on my clothes instead of the movie. I miss the salt and the sea of those summer days. I wish I could’ve kept them forever.

– Graham Deckers ’20 34

– Charles Di Bona ’19 35

On a Juvenile Love To imagine your complexion at night, Of gleaming eyes and a mischievous smile. Across the globe, radiates my delight, I am now castaway on Cupid’s isle. And often my longing drives me silly, Mouth agape, mind misty, all dim-witted... I am charmed to ponder willy-nilly, Has my invitation been admitted? As the dawn comes my affection grows, A delicate wonder, like morning dew. Being just as fragile, it flows and goes, Leaves the memories, and bids me adieu. Yet worry not, while the moments still last, In a juvenile love, no die is cast.

– Pinlin Xu ’21

– Graham Deckers ’20

From Father to Son

An homage to Langston Hughes

Well, son, listen here: I have worked for everything we have. It’s been a long road, A highway, A mountain to climb, A battle of constant highs and lows – Grind. But through it all I’ve stayed hopeful, And reached greatness, And won the big games, And sometimes sat alone to cry Where no one could see me. So son, keep on climbing. Don’t you quit when it feels right ’Cause you’ll look back with regret. Don’t you give up – For mom and I still fight, Now I am strong, and this life, this family, is worth the climb. – Nolan Morr ’19

– Robert Aughtry ’19

T v m n i e A We’ve got a problem here, in my estimation, That affects the whole school, from my observation Please pardon me while I explain in rhyme This phenomenon I call Avon boy time. Avon boy time is a really sorry state that results in your being a few minutes late. If I set my alarm, I’ll just hit the snooze knob. Waking me up is the dorm parent’s job. If I sleep through Chapel, don’t give me a talk. It can’t be my fault. I blame the night hawk. Late for class? Not my fault, don’t blame me. The line at the Nest was too long, don’t you see. It’s no big deal, just a minute or two… or ten, but hey, what can I do? Be punctual? Ha! Who cares if I’m late? Besides, I’m special. They can all wait. My time is my time, it’s important to me. That your time is wasted doesn’t count, you see. I was playing Fortnite with a classmate I couldn’t just leave, so that’s why I’m late. Unsatisfactory, Mr. Symes might say, So let’s make some changes, starting today. Let’s start a new habit, call it Avon MAN time. I’ll explain it simply, in just one more rhyme. A MAN of Avon, as you all know surely Always arrives just a few minutes EARLY.

– Name ’19

– John Spearman F, P’14, ’15, ’18

– Roland Bryan ’18

– Samantha Jensen F, P’17, ’19

43 43

A LESSON FROM SPRING How beautiful the garden, With nature in harmony. But with the rose in the middle, It seemed a little sour. Green grass, brown trees. White little flowers, dance in space. But the rose in the middle, bright hot red, Was just a little out of place. It stood out in the crowd. Just as beautiful, or maybe even more. But there was something off, That fought against the garden. – Sean Desjardins ’21

house A man. A woman. Expectations surrounding them. Just like a house, That is expected to provide shelter. Who are we supposed to be? Who do we abide by? Or what. Or why.

Then, someone came around, Picked it up and embraced it. Took it with her, and gave her Her own place. It looked back, it felt it, too, The beauty of the garden. And there was a better place for it. The place of its own, where it can shine. – Xihe Li ’20

– Ian Blatchford ’19 44

All Alight He alights with a whisper Fire flowing in his veins Candles flickering ’tween his eyes Stomach throwing like a twister Fingers twitching as a boxer’s Count and see where the hits land As soon as he recalls how to stand. Breathe deep and push off the watchers

Bile and blood, sweat and steam Heat rises from within, colors Boil into his face, shudders Shake loose from stifled screams. A drunken redness carries Him from room to burning room Grabbing the walls of a chance-born tomb Subject to another’s furies.

– Andrew Liptrot ’18

– Pengyu Si ’19

– Sean Desjardins ’21

September 26

Chapel Talk Good morning, brothers. I’m humbled

to come before you all today and speak. I know that to most of you I’m the only thing standing between you and the Hawk’s Nest, I’ll keep this talk short.

For those of you who know me, you know that I am a huge Jimmy Buffet fan. If you ever walk under the Eagle archway during one of my frees, you’ll definitely hear him. There is a line in one of his songs that I’d like to touch on today, “Be good, and you will be lonesome. Be lonesome and you will be free. Live a lie, and you will live to regret it. That’s what living is to me.” Reflect on that line, “Live a lie, and you will live to regret it.” Powerful, right? At Avon, I see pressure every day to live a lie. There’s a certain pressure that we place upon ourselves to conform to this stereotype of being “cool.” You should be good at sports, but don’t try too hard or you’re a “hardo.” You should be smart, but don’t focus too much on academics or you’re a “nerd.” You should have lots of friends, but if you are friends with the wrong people you are an outcast. These things sound familiar, don’t they?

– Max Gart ’20 48

When I first got to Avon, those pressures got to me. A lot of people know me as a player on the Varsity Hockey Team, but when I came here it wasn’t just to play hockey. To put it plainly, I actually enjoy learning, which might sound crazy to some of you, I know. But I remember vividly that the first question anyone

– William Overcash ’18

asked me here wasn’t where I was from, what I was passionate about, or who I hoped to be in the future. Instead, it was, “What sport did you come here to play?” Isn’t that amazing? That we can boil down the very essence of each person at this school into simply one thing that they do? The ramifications of this question of what we play here are devastating. When we divide ourselves into groups based on something so trivial, we miss out on the best of what we have to offer each other. The beauty of this school is that the opportunity to be a well-rounded individual is abundant. It’s well known that Nick Keroack is an amazing hockey player, but did you know how skilled and passionate he is about playing the guitar? Graham Deckers is one of the very best artists at the school, but did you know that he is also an integral part of the swim and dive team? Jesse Walsh is a physical powerhouse both in the weight room and on the football field, but did you know that he is a vocal leader in our school community as Vice-Warden? All of these people exemplify the very best that this school has to offer because they do not hide their skills and passions -- they do not live a lie. The secret to success at Avon is not to let one thing deﬁne you. If a new student on campus saw you in the Refectory today and asked his buddy who you were, what would you want that response to be? “He’s just a soccer player,” or “all he does is play baseball.” Wouldn’t you rather have that student say something like, “Hey, that’s Aaron Pinto. He’s a smart kid, a great hockey player, and he gives back to the school community as the head monitor of Jamerson.” I know which one I would want. In short, don’t be afraid to try new things. Just because you’re a football player doesn’t mean you can’t be a Singed Beaver. Just because you’re on the wrestling team doesn’t mean you can’t be passionate about robotics. This school has so much to offer us students if only we’re able to cast off the societal constraints of being “too cool” for this or “too cool” for that. The burden lies upon each and every one of us to encourage each other to follow our passions instead of demeaning each other for reaching outside of our spheres. I implore you to try that new sport, to do volunteer work both within the community and outside of it, or even, God forbid, to go to a meeting during club period. I promise that the fulfillment you feel from escaping a one-dimensional lifestyle combined with the impact you make on this school and the people within it will be more than enough reward for your efforts. If you put the best of yourself into what you are truly passionate about here at Avon, you will not be living a lie. When you look back on your time after you graduate, you will have no regrets. But most importantly, you will have made me, your peers, the faculty, every alumnus, and especially Jimmy Buffett extremely proud to call you a brother. 49

Hip po crene •

•

- - ) ( Hip• po• crene | \ hi-p -kre-ne e

noun, literary 1. used to refer to poetic or literary inspiration

2. Greek Mythology - a fountain on Mount Helicon, sacred to the Muses: its waters inspire poets

Although Avon Old Farms School has had a literary magazine since the 1930s, The Hippocrene as it stands today is in its 26th printing. We publish annually with a run of 700 copies. Pieces are chosen around a theme, and this year our theme is STRENGTH.

Free Verse

– Jiaxing Zhang ’20

50 50

Without a blade he stood Without a contract he strove The tempest withstood No promise of treasure trove

STRENGTH can take many different forms: physical strength, emotional strength, or strength of character. STRENGTH in art comes through in colors, lines, angles, and subjects. And finally, strength can be courage – the courage to face your fears, to find a new path, to do what is right in the face of pressure, or to move on in the face of adversity. The pieces chosen for this year’s Hippocrene reflect STRENGTH in all its forms. It shows our students in their best light as athletes, as courageous young men, as visionaries, as intellectuals, as empathic citizens of this ever-changing world.

Time after time he endured Never tired he defended Is the truth obscured? Self-evident, it should be comprehended What a peculiar story For what does he long Either gold or glory He is promised none

Many pieces were submitted and the selection was highly competitive. This production represents some of the best work produced this year in the arts and in the classroom. As an addition, we have a few faculty submissions as well. We hope you enjoy what you see here, and congratulate those chosen for publication. Good work, gentlemen!

A notion, a philosophy, an ideal Is what he stands up for, and never kneels For the republic, for democracy, for knowledge and for progress By the goddess he is blessed To be constant as a compass, persistent as the tides For if he stands for nothing He shall fall for anything – Pinlin Xu ’21

– Matthew Jensen ’19