The Dome A journal of art and literature ____ 2020
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Editors Jackson Chapin ’20 and Mia Lake ’20 Faculty Advisor Mari LoNano Special Thanks To Julie Hammill, Hammill Design Cover “Teal” by Ben Goldthwaite ’20 Artwork Opposite Page “Lunar Pools” by Jackson Chapin ’20
The Dome 2020 Berkshire School’s Literary Magazine The quarantine issue— a shortened issue dedicated to the Class of 2020
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Mes Affaires a Moi The biggest issue confronted by today’s generation is the artificial part of this contemporary life, especially black African, they do not have the courage to look at themselves. Why does not a black African woman believe that she’s beautiful with her short hair and her dark skin? For centuries, Black African have been educated to despise themselves, to take examples of white people. We have been taught to not upset the folks of white color, and we have to be courageous enough. Every black person needs to be educated to be proud of who he is, to educate their children to be proud of who they are. Numerous black african women use depigmentation to make their skin lighter, which can be considered as denying your true identity. It is not authentic, nor pride. It also has damaging side effects which leads to severe skin redness and burning or stinging. Gaoussou Coulibaly ’20
I Regret of Being Black (2019–present) Oh God why did you create me black? You should have created me white I should have been born Arabic God! Black people never had a value in this world! What is the role of African leaders today? African youth ends up being thefts They all rely on lottery and burglary Oh God why did you create me black? I saw my ancestors forging link by link in their chain I remember what my ancestors have done for the occidentals We still murder each other for the occidentals They were very smart, they made everything tied up to documents They would have never had breakfast without Us They would’ve never had clothes without Us They would’ve ever lived paradise on Earth without Us America owes America to us My balafon became now a piano Our beautiful Cora became a guitar. Our twelve flutes of the Fouta Djallon became a saxophone. Even writing started here. Gaoussou Coulibaly ’20
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We Are All Africans (2019) They told me that I’m Ivorian. They told you that you are Nigerian. My great grand grandfather was a Malian. But we are all Africans. We are Guineans. We are Ghanaians. We are Senegalese. We are Congolese but we are all Africans. They told me that I’m Muslim. They told you that you are Christian. They told him that his Jewish They call them Buddhists. My ancestors were animists. But we are all Africans. We will never forget the empire of Ghana. Our parents still talk about the Mossi riders Without forgetting the Ashanti kingdom Because we are all still Africans... Gaoussou Coulibaly ’20
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A Little Bit in Exile / An African In New York City (December 2019) A little bit in exile. A stranger in the city. I am an African in New York city. I’m thinking of you, I’m calling you. Of a glowing three stars boarded up building in the Bronx. You see, you do not have to tremble; here I have no money but I have a framed roof. We live here together; we survive. When we eat dinner, we heat the rest the next morning We miss almost nothing It’s not hell nor paradise to be an African in New York City And from Sunday to Sunday too I’m just working You see I’m lucky here I will soon have my papers Mom, I know you’re used to Get too quickly in panic ahead any news Do not worry if a building blew up. Do not worry if a building burned Do not worry if a train station exploded. I signed a pact with God. I strongly have faith in Him. As long as nothing happens to You, nothing will happen to me. Gaoussou Coulibaly ’20
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Sofie Fisher ‘21 “Family”
Sofie Fisher ‘21 “Siblings”
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Cora Brennan ’21 “The Sun” Page 6
where we going? you’ll see. editor’s note: I got excited here. I thought maybe we were going in for a kiss, maybe a little spot to hang out. maybe she was going to take us to her favorite spot in the entire world, maybe she was going to show me a secret baby treasure she buried when she was 9. alas, it wasn’t that. c’mon, can’t you just tell me? you’re getting a little too excited. she reached out her hand then. it was right there that I could see our future together. hands in arms, maybe married at a nice resort one day. “ this is pretty sweet, isn’t it? very. I love you. I love you, too. she smiled and kissed me. “ I looked at her hand for what felt like an eternity, but when I reached out to grab it, she only pulled me over a slight ledge leading down to the beach. I felt the warmth in her hand, the power as she yanked me up. I latched on for a half second longer than necessary until she quickly nudged her hand away. so, my mom told me once, when I was nine, did I tell you that my mom told me this? that there are all these things on the beach that old men left behind hundreds of years ago, glass. old glass. and the sea softens it until they’re foamy and cloudy and soft and we can pick them up. I was nine when I first heard this and nearly fainted. I have a whole collection of, of, of what is it again?
I believe it’s called sea glass. right. sea glass. so, I have a whole collection of sea glass in my room.
it smelled of salt, the sun was slowly beginning to set. she looked golden then. we’re here. the beach.
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she did a little twirl. yep! isn’t it great? this is the place you were taking me? what? no, no! I just wanted to walk on it as we went. ah. other editor’s note: this is where I got even more excited. I probably should’ve slapped myself then or tripped and came up with an excuse to stay there, at the beach, forever with her. the sun, the surf, god only knows if I would’ve been able to kiss her then. if only. here. she extended her hand again and I reached, but it was only to shake it. it was our little thing back then. to the beach! to the beach… and so we walked along this little stretch. let’s look for some glass. alright. we looked for glass in the spots the waves forgot to soak, even venturing out into the surf a bit to reach down. we’re a little far, I really don’t want to get wet. oh wait! look! we both spotted a glimmer. I’ll fetch it. as I bent down, I could practically taste the water on my face. it was then that I felt two hands clasp around me, and for a second I thought it was to hold me tight, to stabilize me from falling into the water, to cradle me and touch me and hold me in this grand but awkward suggestion of love, until I felt a burst of energy and found myself just a centimeter away from the water. I sprung up. agh! she was laughing so hard. I got you! you like that? oh, you bet. I chased her in the water, both of us laughing so hard. eventually someone tripped, another joined in, and we were rolling around in the shallow waters of this little beach, laughing and playing like there was nothing else in this world. it felt as if I was falling in love with her and looking back, I probably was. Page 8
alright, let’s keep going. just a little bit longer. no. let’s go. alright. as she got up, I shoved her right back in the water and continued to play. I thought it would’ve been really nice if we kissed in the water, soaked and tired, the saltwater puffing up my hair as golden hour began to set in., she brushed my hand with hers instead. I really gotta show you this now. I smiled a big smile. okay. and so we got up and continued to walk. after a while I asked again, for clarity’s sake. are you sure you can’t tell me where we’re going? I am completely 100% sure I can’t tell you. a hint? one hint. it’s near the beach. thanks… oh, it should be obvious, knowing me. I’d love to say I know you really well and can predict your every move but… I can’t. fine. we’re here anyways. there was just a little rock structure, something to head out into the sea. we’ve been there before. here? we’ve been here a hundred times. just c’mon out. it was here that we looked under the stars, it was here that I first felt her head against mine and it was here that we discovered that planes flew in patterns and cars never really stopped coming at the dead of night. and it was here that I thought we would, finally, have our first kiss and it was here that I thought she would, finally, see her love as much as mine. we began to walk out like we had a thousand billion times before, but this time we were brushing hands. just as I was beginning to settle in, she blurted it: just for support, hold me tight. okay. and so, I held her hand as we walked along the choppy rocks, right until the end. I still haven’t seen anything of note here. her eyes glittered. look below you. as I looked down my eyes were nearly blinded by the shine of sea glass. hundreds of little pieces scattered in between the rocks right before they met the ocean. it nearly Page 9
made me cry. I dumped my entire collection here. they needed to go home. but they’re yours! ours. I looked up and she was smiling. I didn’t help you find these. that’s okay, I’m donating them to you. are you sure? only if you accept it. I brushed her hand again. ours. I thought then that we would kiss and the glass and the waves and her eyes and my eyes and our everything would be together, and as I looked into her eyes, I thought maybe it would just be so. can I kiss you right now? her look didn’t change, just a shrug, just a glance. up to you. and in a thousand other nights afterwards I really thought about this moment, cut through all the bullshit, cut through all of the other thoughts and feelings and currents of electricity that pulsed through my veins over the course of that day just to this moment, just to this collection of seconds, looking for a reason why. a reason why I decided just to hug her tight, just to remain as we were. I think I like this a little better. I like this, too. I wouldn’t have thought about it much until the next week I came back to that spot, without her as she was on a trip, just to look at her sea glass. however, it was gone, washed back home. I stared at the empty rock for a while, dreaming as to where the glass could’ve gone. maybe the coast of Argentina, some wooden boat in the middle of the ocean, staring up at a thousand stars, someplace better. when I looked again, I saw a glitter, saw one remaining cloudy piece of glass. it took a while for me to bend down to get it, half expecting a little jolt from behind, and when I grabbed it, I felt a certain cool rush over me. I never went back to the spot, and she never came back from her trip. she moved out there. the glass remains by my bedside table. I’m looking at it right now, and maybe she is, too. LOVE, XX. Alexander Gibian ’20
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Quarantine Journal If you would’ve told me at the start of this school year that some of the most pivotal months of my life that would dictate factors on my future for the next 45-50 years would end up being put into the air with deep uncertainty on what a certain virus has the potential to do from here after killing hundreds of thousands of people all across the planet, then quite frankly, I’d laugh right in your face. Truth be told, I did not think anything like this would be possible. My whole life, in history books, I’ve been reading about things like this. The Black Death. Smallpox. Cholera. The list goes on and on. These events happened generations before my time, which ignorantly caused premeditated thoughts of safety from any sort of plagues. The fact that this is even taking place is absolutely mind-boggling to me, even to this very moment, as I type this essay. The fact that I’m even typing an essay for English class in my own home, on my couch, and getting ready to turn it into Google Classroom still blows my mind. This pandemic has altered a lot for me, and the list keeps growing as the days pass. Sports have been cancelled for me. AAU basketball, my final spring and summer of it, has been cancelled. AAU basketball means a lot to me, as I love the game of basketball a lot. Not only is AAU basketball very important in terms of recruitment, but the amount of memories and friendships you create and strengthen from it follows you forever. I also don’t have a track & field season, which I was really looking forward to. Not only has AAU been cancelled, but all my travel plans for this summer got cancelled too. My mom was planning a family trip to go to Nigeria, since my roots are there, and I would get to see a vast majority of family members I have not seen in years. Flying out of the country is always something I enjoy on a deep level, as traveling is one of my favorite hobbies. The new scenery and structure is what I enjoy the most. Being a junior, ACT/SAT prep, along with college visits and college counseling are absolutely crucial for this summer, but with COVID-19 in the air, everything has been slapped with a large question mark around it. The frustrating part is that we’re only getting older, so we don’t know how long things will be postponed, and how colleges will react to the news. Because of all of this going on in the world, the city of Chicago, the 3rd biggest city in the country, is on complete lockdown. We aren’t the worst city for the coronavirus, but we are on the rise due to our size. My kitchen is a mini grocery store, due to the fact of my family hoarding essential items because of the virus panic. I have not left my house since the first day of spring break, March 8th. It has been 3+ weeks since I’ve had a gasp of fresh air. I haven’t been able to play basketball, lift weights, or even go for a run. I’ve done home workouts 6 days a week in order to stay in shape. Page 11
I’m not the only one going through it. It’s a worldwide problem. I can count my blessings and remember that some people have it worse. Bodies are dropping left and right. It’s frightening. It’s absolutely heartbreaking. No one knows anything, truly. All we can do is have faith at this point. Nogosa Atekha ’21
Jackson Chapin ‘20 “Waiting Room”
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Self-Driven I’m too serious... True, If you have been through what I been, You would be too, Hard life got my lenses tied, Not the life I done drewn, Wipe my eyes, Cause time flies, That’s what determined people do. You gotta be, Unstoppable, Unrockable, So steady, 1996 Chicago Bulls, Born ready, No lunchables, People will try me, But that’s uncontrollable, That’s why you gotta keep your mind durable, Grind indiscernible. To stay calm and collected, Cause anger only happens if you let it,
Pain only continues if you let it, Worries only continueI hope you get it. I see you plotting huh, Ready to take my dreams, There is no stopping ya, Taking my source of life, Vascular. But I would never let that happen, No George Zimmer, Man, Y’all really don’t understand, Unlike y’all I never had a real guiding hand, All perseverance, Self-resilience, Straight brilliance, With God giving me millions, Without a cent. Will Onubogu ’22
Sofie Fisher ‘21 “Children” Page 13
The melody of the favelas (2018–2019) Other than playing soccer, I can do little Maybe retail, sell my dope Promote myself on the boulevard, see them all dying of overdose I’m hanging around and I smoke my dope here life is desolate. I’m blowing smoke in the shape of a ball’s trajectory. I think, I retrace my story of a child lost in the square Dreaming of being a pro. I drag my carcass on the sidewalk, late at night, in darkness This is the melody of the favelas. The voice emerges from the ghetto and it resonates in the halls In big cities with dormitory cities. The melody of the favelas Where fathers no longer assume their roles Where mothers raise their kids alone Like melody there’s nothing darker The melody of the favelas I live this melody, and it lives in me Luck only exists for others Only hard working pays up with ours From below it is difficult to see the truth hiding above The melody of the favelas Stays beside me when I’m grinding To get out of it, I have to make money. Now I want to live, no longer survive. Many people have pretended to believe it. My brothers in arms are my blood brothers… Anonymous
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The First of Fire Breathers A long time ago, a long way away, the mortal earth was ruled by the gods and goddesses of above. Every 1,000 years, a new deity inherited the seat on the Immortal Throne and the burden of protecting Earth and maintaining the power of the gods was placed on their powerful shoulders. As the Immortal Queen Tutrice’s reign was closing, she birthed two daughters. The first, Lirdina of the Earth, was celebrated for her beauty and poise. Her hair was the color of dark soil, her skin the color of spring leaves. Everywhere Lirdina walked, flowers and grains bloomed, and paths of upturned earth snaked behind her footsteps. She was praised far and wide as the perfect heir to the Immortal Throne. The second daughter was no less powerful than her elder sister, though this power manifested in different ways. Pesca of the Water had a pinched, upset face. While she was born with two legs and two arms, she much preferred to take the form of a stream of water, translucent everywhere except in direct sunlight. She traveled peacefully through streams and rivers with fish, snakes, and turtles, creatures that had always been drawn to her presence. She seemed to have no desire to upset her older sister’s birthright to the Immortal Throne, but with the end of Queen Tutrice’s reign rapidly approaching, this desire would rear its ugly, greedy head. --Far across the world, a blacksmith worked tirelessly. By day, he made cups, pans, and other practical metalwork to sell for his living. By night, however, he locked himself in his workshop and bent over the most intricate, complex creation he had ever attempted. The blacksmith wanted to travel the world and escape the confines of Bastil, the small, riverside town which had always been his home. For the past year, he had been slaving over a mechanical beast operated like an airplane. The beast had long, iron plated wings which extended out from his cavernous belly, which the blacksmith would use as a cockpit to steer from. A long tail stretched behind it, and a neck reached out in front. It barely fit in the blacksmith’s workshop, but visions of flying across the sky, far, far away from the riverside town entranced him, and he kept working. Despite his wild fantasies, he lived humbly, sustained by his warm riverside house, just enough food, and the magic of his workshop at night. He never thought his path would cross with a god, but on the way to his work early one summer morning, Queen Tutrice dropped from the sky, right in front of his workshop door. “Mortal!” cried Tutrice, surrounded by a blinding light. “You have been recognized by the gods as a gifted blacksmith, worthy of godly attention. You must create a crown for Goddess Lirdina of the Earth’s coronation and ascension to the Immortal Throne. I will return tomorrow at dawn.” The blacksmith staggered backwards, shocked. But every mortal knew that when asked something of an immortal, one Page 15
could request a wish in return. The blacksmith forced himself to meet the goddesses’ eyes. “Oh, Queen Tutrice, Leader of Men, Ruler of the Immortal Throne, might I ask something of you in return?” He questioned. Tutrice nodded once. “If I create a crown for Lirdina of the Earth’s coronation, I ask that in return you grant me with the means to travel the earth and leave this small town for the rest of my years!” Again, the goddess responded with a single nod, and with that, she vanished in thin air. The blacksmith was overjoyed - in one day he could wander the world like he had already dreamed. He could not deny that he had been visited by a god, no matter how unlikely the thought seemed. So, he entered his workshop that morning with a new purpose. The tools, cups and plates he normally made would have to wait. Today he had a greater mission, one assigned by the Immortal Queen herself. But as he welded, forged, and hammered the entire day away, trouble was simmering amongst the immortals. Tutrice announced to the gods that Lirdina would inherit the Immortal Throne. As they celebrated the news with wine and dancing, no one noticed Pesca slip away, boiling with anger. The throne should be mine, she whispered into the cool night air, and swam away from the celebrations towards Bastil, the music from the party fading with every turning riverbend. --It was dusk in Bastil. The blacksmith emerged from his shop covered in grease and ash. In his gloved hands was the most beautiful, delicate crown, still glowing orange from heat. Just as he always had, the blacksmith walked to his house, where he carefully lay the crown in a river’s eddy to cool. However, Pesca noticed the glint of the crown in the eddy from miles away. She slipped through the river, stole the crown, and, before the blacksmith could even blink his eyes, escaped to a lake thousands of miles away, crown in hand. If she couldn’t have the Immortal Throne, then her sister certainly couldn’t have a crown on her coronation day. The blacksmith combed the river all night long. Eventually, the entire town was out searching by candlelight for Lirdina’s crown, to no avail. Though panic grew amongst the town people, and as the night sky grew lighter, more and more returned to their own homes, none wanting to face the wrath of Trutrice when she finally arrived. As the last few stars blinked out and sun spilled across the river, only the blacksmith was left, wading in the freezing water, overturning rocks again and again, hoping to stumble upon the crown. When his feet froze and the disturbed river water was black with silt, Tutrice descended from the sky in the same way she had just a day earlier. “Mortal!” She cried in the same booming voice. “Where is Goddess Lirdina’s crown, promised to me by you upon my first visit?” The blacksmith looked at the ground. He knew the second that Tutrice rePage 16
ceived the news of the missing crown, his life would be good as gone. His chance of escaping Bastil was slim, and his chance of escaping this meeting with Tutrice with his life was even slimmer. What once felt like a golden opportunity to pursue his dream of traveling beyond Bastil was now slipping through his fingers. As he looked up from the ground, he saw the metal wing of his creation through the window of his workshop and had a brilliant idea. In the pale light of dawn, illuminated by the brightness of the Immortal Queen, the blacksmith decided to trick a god. --“I’ve made you the most beautiful crown!” He promised, “But I fear it was stolen when I placed it in the river to cool. I’ve searched all night, and still haven’t found it. If you give me one more day, I can find it! I promise. I just need a little bit of help. Please, Goddess Tutrice.” Tutrice suspected that Pesca, whom she had not seen since the coronation announcement, must have stolen the crown out of jealousy. Surprising herself, she agreed to help the blacksmith find the crown. The blacksmith led her to his workshop and showed her the pieces of his mechanical creature. If Tutrice could use her powers to complete the creature, the blacksmith could fly over every single river and lake, covering large amounts of ground to find the crown. Admiring the intricate wings of the mechanical creature, Tutrice ran her fingers along the beast’s gaping mouth, glistening with intricate hammered copper teeth, and the thick sheets of leather which ran along the iron-skeleton body. She noticed all the imperfections as well: the inefficiencies and heavy materials preventing the machine from flying through the sky like the blacksmith planned. Finally, Tutrice ordered the blacksmith to climb inside the cockpit. “I’ll gift your creation with the power of flight and fire. You’ll need both gifts if you are to steal the crown back from Pesca of Water, who I believe has them now.” Before the blacksmith could respond, he felt the walls of the cockpit shake. Looking out the porthole, he saw green scales fold over the leather wings, and the nuts and bolts disappear under a wave of scaly skin. The cockpit walls gave way to oozing pink flesh. The empty eye sockets of the beast closed and were replaced with wet orange irises and an inky pupil. The blacksmith tentatively pulled the closest lever, and the beast’s wing shot up. The next lever controlled the other wing, while more still controlled the movement of the head, neck and tail. The blacksmith pulled a central lever and the dragon rose to hover in the air, breaking a considerable amount of the workshop’s tools. The gift of flight. He pressed a small red button, and fire streamed out of the beast’s mouth. The gift of fire. Suddenly, Tutrice’s voice echoed in the cockpit. “Return to this place by dawn tomorrow with the crown. Follow the rivers and lakes.” And with that, the voice vanished, and the blacksmith had the funny feeling that he was suddenly very alone. He flew the dragon high in the air above the little town. As he heard the wind rush by and the distinct sizzle of the beast breathing flames, the blacksmith felt for Page 17
the first time like he was escaping from Bastil. He could taste the freedom of travel on his tongue, and so though the rivers stretched for miles in the North, he turned the beast around and took off towards the South, where thick sand dunes swallowed any hint of water. At dawn the next day, Tutrice returned to the blacksmith’s workshop, but he was nowhere to be found. She realized immediately that she herself had given him the tools for his escape, and that he had no plans to find the crown after she gifted his creation with flight and fire. Furious, took to the sky to find the blacksmith. Soon, she found the beast resting on a sloping sand dune. The blacksmith startled as he heard her voice thunder inside the cockpit. “You have faulted a god, and for that you must pay. The gifts I have bestowed upon you will become your curse.” He watched as the levers and buttons slowly shrank inside the pink flesh of the cavern. His chair melted away, and he was drenched in the slime of the beast’s interior. With wide eyes, the blacksmith scrambled against the pink flesh as the porthole closed and the entrance hatch sealed. He pounded on the stomach walls, scratching as hard as he could, but the beast didn’t falter. The blacksmith felt the beast launch, and the giant, pink stomach lurched with every flap of the giant wings. For all eternity, the blacksmith was trapped in the cavernous belly of the beast, while has since become known to the people of Bastil as a dragon. And now, whenever dragons sweep low across the sky, you can sometimes the call of the blacksmith, begging to be freed from its cage. If you squint closely enough at the clouds when the dragon passes by, you can see Tutrice, retired from her throne, watching over the blacksmith from above. Phoebe Mulder ’22
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Cora Brennan ’21 “The Star” Page 19
Mia Lake ’20 “Ms. Lou”
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when the heart aches i’m sitting here with nothing but heartache but not the kind of heartache one expects it’s the kind that makes things confusing makes you have to double-check your options and triple check your friendships my heart aches for something i haven’t felt for a while for the pure happiness that doesn’t just make your lips curl up but your body move freely sitting here imagining voices it gives me a new feeling of invisibility the type that only proves that your weakness isn’t just mental but physical that the voices you hear are merely echoing in through one ear and out the other it’s not the recognition i want it’s the understanding i need it’s the friendship i thought i had and the confusion that floods through my body my feet rest gently on the rock below me the sun still bleeding a vibrant orange, partly overtaken by the dark sky it’s the chill water that keeps me alive rocking my soul back and forth holding me down tightly by the tips of her fingers my body so badly wants to leave but my heart wants nothing more then to stay i can hear the water cry to me droplets trickle down and i am awake my eyes open but my mind stays asleep i am nothing more than a shadowa restless soul with nowhere to go my inspiration is not from the sound of crashing waves but by the emotions i’ve tried so hard to overcome open your eyes. i open them and i am awake. i step back into reality leaving the tears of hope falling into the spaces undiscovered Anonymous
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you are me and i am you I can’t see them without feeling like the world could come crashing down on me at any second and it’s scary They shove me into a tight space Wall and wall against my back Force words down my throat Tie a noose around my neck and pull harder and harder until i stop breathing I dig my nails deep into my skin I’m trying to avoid the feeling The constant reminder that I was never good enough I’m clawing at the open space They stare down at me Laughing as the dirt is thrown into my face Let me lie here Let me lie here and become the ground they walk upon Just let me lie here ~ I pretend i’m okay That everything is fine Because i’m fine I’m fine. I am fine. My conscience whispers to me You’re not fine I’m not fine. If you were to dig a hole through my skin just to look at my heart You would find black tar lining the right atrium And a steady flow of engine fuel that had replaced the free-flowing oxygen Or maybe you would find that my pulmonary artery has
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Third-degree burns caused by the constant stares of judgment Like hot lasers burning through a sheet of metal You would find my bones cracked The fragments cutting deeper and deeper into my body You would find The words that i had said didn’t hurt And laughter that i had said i’d ignored You say i’m dramatic That i’m being self-centered and ignorant You say i have everything in the world That i’m greedy and ungrateful You push me away but drag me back again You are me And i am you Anonymous
Wakaba Aihara ‘22 “Pixelated Landscape”
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Piece #1 Poem: The Children Cry A teenager pulls out his gun and the anger mirrors through his eyes as he barrels through the double doors where once we felt safe, but now cry. Where once our curiosity would guide us through the day until we went home into our mother’s arms but that was yesterday. Now the only arms we see are the ones where bullets escape. I text my mom I love you which in reality means this is not a drill, like the other times. The screams fill the linoleum halls and whimpers escape as footsteps near. I’m sorry, my thoughts are with you is a song that plays once more with fear. I cannot help but know the meaning of her name A.L.I.C.E1 trails through my brain as I see his face. The people I love cry out and as I escape, I see the blood of my classmates. What if that happens to me is not a reason to abandon my degree. As my feet carry me into my mother’s arms I wonder if Capitol Hill is carefree. I wake up in a pool of sweat I dreamt being my blood and mistake my belly button for the bullet holes in the plaster. The ringing in my ears are equivalent to the CRVs. I am a survivor they tell me I am lucky they say and they claim their pity but I just want change. Phoebe Smith ’22
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Piece #2 Story/Description: My Mountains and My Uncle I grew up in the mountains. Inspired by their presence, constantly fueling me with ambition. I was taught to respect the mountains and their physicality as a force of nature. It was promoted to me that I should always explore, but with caution and consideration. The mountains test my craving for adventure mixed with a responsible conscience. They are a guardian angel and death sentence in one mass. Of all the beauty and fun which they offer, they’re ruthless and unforgiving. The mountains took my uncle. He’s not actually my uncle but might as well be. They took him. Tripped him up. Threw him for a tumble. Never to return to his patients, wife, or two kids. Leaving us with nothing except our shared facial features of bushy eyebrows and wide set dimples. Once again, they tested his curiosity and exploratory desire. They took a good one from my family and me, on his birthday no less. Forty-seven years of exploration and compassion. The mountains require respect, was it not enough? Was the ratio between fun and respect too slim? Their unforgiving nature will only pursue, and yet I can’t wait to keep exploring. Phoebe Smith ’22
Rylan Kennedy ‘21 “Outdoor Portrait” Page 25
Good Night From the second that you were brought home for the first time, he was there. He was lying on the ground right next to you when you took your first steps. He was there for your first Christmas and your first birthday. He was there, sitting right beside you as you ate Cheerios in your highchair, begging for one to drop. When you walked out the door for your first day of preschool; then, kindergarten and every first day of grade school, he was sitting by the front door as you pat him on the head. Every night he was there, sitting on his bed waiting for you to say goodnight. “Goodnight bub, I love you.” Every night. He became your best friend and you never exchanged one word. But he understood you and you understood him. Every time you cried, he was there for you to lie on. And when you felt better and were ready for bed, “Goodnight bub, I love you.” That phrase became routine, an every night thing. Once you start saying it, you didn’t stop, it would feel right. Whether it was joined by a hug or it was in passing as you walked to your room, it happened. As the years went on, you started to notice that he was withering away. You noticed that he lost weight and that he was less active, he was getting old. You didn’t know what it felt like to have him gone so you didn’t think about it. It didn’t even cross your mind until one day, you got in the car and your mom said to you, “Woody isn’t doing so well.” Your heart drops to your toes, your eyes fill with tears, you can’t breathe. The car ride home seems like an eternity, you need to be with him. Once the agonizing journey is over and you pull up the driveway; you walk inside, your tears leaving hot trails down your cheeks. As you lie down beside him you think to yourself, “Tonight might be the last time I say goodnight to him.” Breathe. “That’s terrifying, who’s going to be there for me when I need a hug? Who’s going to come on walks through the woods with me? Who’s going to make me feel safe when I’m home alone?” Stop. You need to stop thinking about it, you need to love him while he’s here. Make every second count. You lie with him until you can’t hold your eyes open. Time to go to bed. “Goodnight bub, I love you.” You fall asleep thinking that he won’t be there in the morning; that feeling of dread sits in your stomach like a rock. It hurts. As you wake up, you’re scared to go downstairs. You’re afraid that his sweet, old, grey face won’t be there to greet you as you turn the corner. You hold your breath. He’s there; it’s the best feeling ever. Then, its gone, just as fast as it came. Your dad comes up behind you, puts his hand on your back, and, in that moment, you know, today is the day. You Page 26
don’t go to school; you wouldn’t be able to focus anyway. You lie with him up until the moment you dad asks for your help to put him in the truck, he’s going to the vet. You watch the truck pull out of the driveway as you whisper “Goodbye bub” under your breath, saying it out loud would be too much to handle. When the taillights on the truck are not visible anymore, you sit on the couch, staring off into space. You can’t think, or feel, you just remember. You remember everything; all the times you went swimming in the pond with him, when he laid next to you in the blind out duck hunting, when he would lie with you on the couch, his head in your lap. Most of all, you think about how he was there. He was always there. As time drags on, you remember those walks through the woods and down the road and to the pond. How he would lean against you as you walked; his coarse hair brushing your leg. You could feel the tempo of his heart and how, after a while, it matched with yours. He would run off to chase something, but he would always come back; galloping towards you with that sweet old smile that always made you grin. Enjoy it, those moments are what you’re going to miss most, but you don’t know it yet. You’re pulled from the depths of your mind by the sound of the truck pulling in the driveway; your heart stops, there is no way to prepare yourself. You step outside and nod at your dad; neither of you can say anything. It’s just too much. You open the truck door, every movement of yours is shaky. You see him, lying in his bed on the floor of the truck, you think to yourself, “He’s sleeping.” He isn’t just sleeping. You know exactly where he will be buried. It’s only a 3minute 4-wheeler ride from your house through the woods. That 3 minute 4-wheeler ride seems to last forever, with his head in your lap, all you can focus on is him. You get there and you don’t want to move, you don’t want to let go. You give him one last hug. As he’s placed in the ground, a single tear rolls down your face and you whisper, “Goodnight bub, I love you.” Elle Herrington ’22
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New York Quarantine Journal When school ended on March 7th I thought I would be coming back only two short weeks later, but I was wrong. This whole situation with the Coronavirus has shifted my life in so many ways. When the pandemic began hitting the US only a few weeks ago, I thought that it wouldn’t affect me in any way. I thought it would be over soon and the news was just building it up to scare people. Right after school ended, I headed down to Tennessee to visit colleges. My parents and I drove from The University of the South to High Point, and then lastly Elon. The trip itself was great but more of the schools were closing as I got there. Thankfully, I was able to get all of my visits in but, when it came to the virus, I thought that was the extent of it. As I boarded the plane, headed back to New York City, both myself and my parents had to act completely different. I have never disinfected an entire plane seat before in my life, or worn gloves, but now I can say I have. After getting home, we went grocery shopping and realized that all the news of people fighting over paper products were true. All the shelves were cleaned out, people buying canned food as if a hurricane were coming. It was crazy. My parents made the decision that we should go out to Amagansett where it would be safer and less populated. Since getting out here, I have done nothing but be bored at my house because it is unsafe to go outside according to the State of New York. As a week rolled by, although it felt like a month, and school got delayed, I still had hope that all of this would be over soon and I would be back under the Mountain. This too, however, was overly optimistic. Rylan Kennedy ’21
Rylan Kennedy ’21 “New York” Page 28
Ben Goldthwaite ’20 “Stairway” Page 29
Why Cats and Dogs Hate Each Other A long time ago dogs and cats lived in harmony in the depths of the woods, far away from everything. In this certain spot of the snowy woods, Yellow Lab, Black Lab, and Chocolate Lab were best friends with Siberian Cat, Bengal Cat, and Siamese Cat. These six animals would do everything together and had a daily routine that consisted of waking up, collecting firewood for home, and fetching water from the well. This had been the daily routine of the animals for as long as they had lived in harmony, which had been forever. One quiet morning as Yellow Lab was collecting firewood, she heard a cracking sound coming from the depths of the snowy woods. There had not been much noise coming from anywhere in the woods other than the animals’ home, and Yellow Lab was a little frightened. She walked around a few trees until she saw something terrifying: a large six-foot beast with hair on its face and a bag around its back. Yellow Lab was too terrified to bark, lowered her tail in fright, and let out a little whimper. Suddenly, the beast spoke and said, “Do not be frightened, I am a human, and I mean well. I was sent as a gift by Artemis, the goddess of animals and hunting, to bring joy to you all.” “Human? What is a human?” Asked Yellow Lab. The human was silent, reached into its bag and took out what looked to be some sort of snack and tossed it to Yellow Lab. She immediately fell in love. The next day while the animals were collecting firewood, Siamese Cat realized that Yellow Lab was gone, and they weren’t getting as much firewood. The animals searched the woods and then returned home hoping to find Yellow Lab, and there she was getting a nice head scratch from the man. “What is that thing doing in our home?” Asked Chocolate Lab. “Monster!” Yelled Siberian Cat. Yellow Lab silenced the animals and assured them that this “creature” was called a human and was sent by the Goddess Artemis. Curious to what this human had to offer, Chocolate Lab trotted over to Yellow Lab and the man. The man offered Chocolate Lab some food and Chocolate Lab immediately fell in love. The next day, the three cats and Black Lab were fetching water from the well when Black Lab shouted, “Where in the world could Yellow Lab and Chocolate Lab be?” Again, the animals searched the woods and headed back home in hopes of finding the two dogs. The three cats and single dog reached home to find Chocolate Lab asleep at the feet of the man. Bengal Cat turned to Black Lab and said, “What should we do? We are losing firewood and water because of their work ethic!” The cats left home in anger, and Black Lab decided to see what was so great about this human. Black Lab sat down and the man started to scratch his head. He wasn’t fully amused yet. The man reached into his bag and took out a treat. Black Lab’s eyes lit up and he ate the treat in delight. Black Lab immediately fell in love.
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On the fourth day since the appearance of this man, the three cats were collecting firewood and fetching water from the well when they decided they finally had enough. The three cats stormed back home, all livid with the dogs about not doing the daily work anymore. Once the cats got home, they barged through the door in anger and asked why the dogs weren’t helping anymore. The dogs told the cats they spent the day hunting, eating, and spending time with their new best friend. This was offending towards the cats, as they thought they were best friends with the dogs, and the animals got into an argument. While trying to influence the cats’ opinion on the man, the dogs emphasized that he would hunt with you, but the cats decided that they would rather hunt alone. “It’s either the human or us,” said Siamese Cat. There were a few minutes of silence and Yellow Lab spoke up. “We are sorry cats, but we choose the human.” The three cats stood in the doorway in disbelief, knowing that their lifelong friendship was over. Aggravating the dogs, Bengal Cat told them that the cats hate them now, that they had made a detrimental mistake, and that this gift from Artemis was no gift but a curse. The cats ran away forever, and that is why dogs and cats hate each other. Alex Byrne ’22
Wakaba Aihara ‘22 “Under”
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Cora Brennan ’21 “The Moon”
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Neró In a small coastal town of Southern Greece, called Thálassa, there lived a family of whom resided on the beach. The newlywed couple was awaiting the arrival of their baby son into the world. After two long days anxiously awaiting their son, the baby boy was finally born. To coincide with where the family lived, the couple named the baby Neró the greek word for water. As soon as the couple held Neró in their arms, they noticed something strange about him. The baby boy was abnormally large for having just come out of the womb. The baby acted just as a newborn baby would, so the couple did not worry about his size. Not knowing the baby would be coming so soon, the couple had planned a cruise in the Mediterranean for their honeymoon. They could not leave the baby behind, so one day after the baby was born the family set off for a cruise in the sea. The weather the past couple of days was very dangerous and it was not predicted to get any better for the days they would be on the ship. The water was very rough and as soon as they got on the boat the family immediately wanted to turn around. It was too late, however, to leave and not go on the trip, they would have to brave the conditions that were to set sail in. While the first few days of the trip were dangerous, nothing compared to what happened on the last day. The rocking of the boat had woken everyone up bright and early that morning. The family had to take shelter, but because the water was so rough it was able to get into the boat. The family was not able to reside inside of the boat, so they had to hold on for their lives on the outside of the boat while the storm was passing. No one had seen it coming, a massive wave came from behind them and shook the ship and sent Neró flying out of his mother’s hands. Since he was a newborn, the only way to save him would be to jump into the water. The couple, however, did not want to risk their own lives by jumping into the sea. They left the baby to drown. Poseidon, the god of the sea, saved Neró when he saw that he was drowning. Struck by his enormous size, Poseidon decided he needed to become a father figure to Neró, he raised him as one of his own. As the years went by and Neró was growing up, Poseidon realized Neró’s great strength and size. Using his great strength, when Neró got mad the seas shook and made the conditions of the water too dangerous for ships to sail. These dangerous conditions that Neró created only happened once in a while ,however, after Neró had turned 10, he had become bigger, stronger, and angrier. This anger made for more heavy storms and the conditions in the seas became even worse. Poseidon had tried to control Neró anger but nothing he tried was working. Poseidon decide to wait three years to see if Neró anger would decline, but as the years went on his anger was not settling down. The destruction of all the oceans and seas in the world was becoming
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greater and greater. Poseidon could not take it anymore, when Neró turned 13, he made his decision. Poseidon was going to commit Neró to an eternity of sleep. Poseidon hoped that this would calm the oceans and make them safe again. As soon as he was put to sleep, the oceans became safer to sail and the water was significantly calmer. Neró’s strength and power was so vast, however, that when he breathes in and out in his sleep it causes the waters in part of the world to become very high thus creating the waves in the ocean. Abby Hornung ’22
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Mia Lake ’20 “Out of Many Women”
Mia Lake ’20 “Out of Many Men”
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The Song of Flames The sun traveled west along the autumn sky, leaving a canvas of pink, orange, and purple in the atmosphere above. Day morphed into night as the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon line; the dark indigo sky providing a backdrop for billions of luminous stars. Glogar watched in awe as this transformation took place, just as he does every evening. He inhaled deeply and exhaled; a gentle smile painted across his face. Glogar buttoned his tattered tunic, placed his flat cap upon his head, and slid his massive feet into his deer-skin loafers. He hurried outside, the hut quaking as he stomped toward the entryway. The luscious, green Salisbury Plain stretched for miles, with rolling hills scattered throughout. Crickets hummed in the tall grass as a stream softly trickled into the nearby pond. Glogar trudged up Cumberwater Hill, which was at the heart of his encampment. The evening dew soaked through his loafers as he neared the hilltop, and the voices of his neighbors soon became apparent. A subtle glow radiated from the top, allowing him to catch a glimpse of his brothers, Burus, Krudbarg, and Wodrog, huddled in the crowd. Father Clowder stood in the center of the crowd, his 15-foot body towering over the entire community and raised both hands to the sky. With this, the murmuring ceased, and the crowd assembled into three orderly rings–the children were in the small, centermost ring, the middle-aged were in the second ring, and the elders were in the outside ring. “Henge Giants of the British Isles,” Father began, “we gather tonight to commence our nine-hundred and twelfth annual Festival of Song. We shall gather atop Cumberwater Hill at this time until the new year, each night celebrating our unwavering love of song.” Glogar and the other giants, giddy with excitement, cheered until Father Clowder beckoned their silence once again. “We shall begin with The Hymn of the Giants,” Clowder concluded. The giants stood hand in hand, singing in harmony for all to hear; their low baritone voices echoing in every direction. They swayed from left to right, their hips moving like metronomes to the rhythm of the hymn. When all of a sudden, monstrous shrieks in the distance brought the singing to a halt. Glogar looked above him, where he sensed the sound’s source, and saw a winged silhouette in the glowing full moon. He watched as the silhouette grew near and enlarged in the sky and could feel a slight breeze from the creature’s beating wings. A dragon, Glogar thought. As a child, Glogar’s mother would tell his brothers and him wonderous stories about these magnificent beasts as she bid them goodnight. “Long ago,” Glogar’s mother began, “Uldronth, Destroyer of Life ruled the skies…” Glogar envisioned the dragon’s enormous wingspan and armor-like scales wrapped around its muscular body, the flames it unleashed from its jaws, while his mother narrated the tale. But never did he expect to see this creature outside of his imagination. Page 36
Horrified giants scattered in all directions as a dragon descended upon Cumberwater Hill. With ease and grace, the creature arched its outstretched wings and latched its claws into the ground to complete its flight. Glogar watched in silence, the only sound coming from his rapidly beating heart; the other giants followed suit and anxiously waited for the dragon’s action. After a moment, the dragon screeched, “I, Uldronth, Destroyer of Life, command you to leave this encampment immediately. You have disturbed my peace, and I will not bear it any longer. If you refuse, you will suffer the fate of fire.” Father Crowder crept out from behind the rock from which he cowered. He raised both hands as a sign of surrender to Uldronth. “We accept your mercy, Uldronth, Destroyer of Life! We shall leave the Salisbury Plains at once.” Uldronth bowed his head, revealing the rows of piercing horns atop his skull. In one smooth motion, he lifted his wings and ascended into the sky, leaving behind a community of mournful giants. Mothers swaddled their sobbing children, while husbands comforted their visibly shaken wives, all saddened by the idea of leaving their longtime home. But Glogar was unphased by Uldronth’s ultimatum, and resented Father Crowder’s weak response to it. How could Father permit such manipulation? Glogar pondered. Glogar, however, would not fall victim to Uldronth’s threats. “I refuse to leave the Salisbury Plains,” Glogar exclaimed to his fellow giants as he stomped his foot on the ground. “And I will not give up the song in my heart!” About eighty giants cheered and saluted to Glogar’s cause and joined him in the center of the hill. They held hands in solidarity, looking up at the ominous sky where Uldronth lurked in the clouds. A sense of stillness crept through the air in the absence of the departed giants. Much of the community had disbanded and fled by the guidance of Father Crowder, leaving only a fraction under Glogar’s control. The following evening, Glogar watched as the sun fell below the distant rolling hills and led his small pack up Cumberwater Hill. In the middle Glogar stood, hands raised to the starlit-sky, and he guided the Festival of Song. “Tonight, we stand as the remaining Henge Giants of the British Isles to honor the second night of the Festival of Song. We will begin with The Giants of Forever.” The giants assembled into the three rings, hands linked with one another, their melody stretching to the clouds above. Uldronth’s shadow swooped across Glogar’s moon-lit face, and a rush of air blew his flat cap off his head. As the giants huddled together, shielding their heads from Uldronth’s wrath, Glogar called out to the dragon, “I beg of you, Uldronth! Grant us mercy from your flames.” Uldronth unhinged his jaw and a fiery glow began forming in the back of his throat. The giants braced themselves for the inevitable as Glogar pleaded with the dragon once more. “Uldronth, Destroyer of Life! Many Page 37
have abandoned our home, leaving only a small group to practice our song. Surely, it is not nearly as disruptive!” Much to the surprise of the giants, Uldronth conceded. “I will grant you one more opportunity. You will be allowed to sing on Sundays only, but if you disobey this, you will be set ablaze.” And with that, he leapt from the ground and soared into the autumn sky. Glogar pondered the dragon’s ultimatum thinking, Shall I instruct my people to heed Uldronth’s threat, thereby saving innocent lives or do we band together to preserve our traditions? From the comfort of his hut, Glogar watched an array of colors form in the autumn sky as the sun traveled East to West. Just as the sun dropped below the horizon line, Glogar began his climb up Cumberwater Hill, his fellow Henge Giants trailing behind. Atop the hill, Glogar raised his hands above and initiated the third and final night of the Festival of Song. The giants formed into three rings, standing hand-in-hand, awaiting Glogar’s words. “On the third night of the Festival of Song, we will sing The Last Henge Giants.” Their voices harmonized to a beautiful melody, soothing the ominous feeling in their hearts. The giants’ great song spanned across the Salisbury Plains, through the tall green grass, through the trickling stream, over the rolling hills, and upward into the clouds. The giants kept their hands interlocked and stood tall as the dragon unleashed his wrath upon Cumberwater Hill. Uldronth’s mouth was a fiery abyss in black night. Crimson flames shot out of the creature’s fanged jaws, igniting the rings of giants. The flesh of their beastly, thirteen-foot bodies petrified into stone, leaving behind eighty-two solid pillars–no sign of life remained. There they stood, the Henge Giants of the British Isles, transformed into pillars of stone. For centuries, the giants have stood atop Cumberwater Hill, admired by people around the world for their astonishing formation. On a still, peaceful day, some will even say they can hear the hum of Glogar and his giants radiating from the stones. This is how the Stonehenge of Salisbury, England was created. Abby Vernali ’22
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Jackson Chapin ’20 “Sunglasses”
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Live Deliberately The concept of individuality is nonexistent, Pressure of being black, Stays consistent, Taught that being born in this world, There is a certain perception, So you need to be, Careful of letting, Words flow like, Storms in the San Francisco Bay, If I fail to follow this, Stereotypes will portray, So I act my best, Even if my best, Is just a guest, To mind and body I am in, Community dictates individuality, That is just the sad sad, Reality. And to be true individual, Is but a communal suicide, For the community as a whole functions well, Only when individuality is sent to hell, To be completely myself would be selfish, To the good of the community. Just a simple thought… Before words fly, Like guns used to in Bed-Stuy, Just a simple thought, Before hands tighten grasp, Ready to cause, All sorts of mishap, Just a simple thought, Before they trickle into other’s heads, Messing up their feelings, Wishing they were dead, Just a simple thought, I just desire, Just to think, Would drive everyone higher, Page 40
On a peak, So that all can feel safe, Unlike barbed wire. You are living a life not worth living, Until you leave the world better than you enter, You don’t have to open center, Just have to do the little things, To make the next generation, A little better, So uphold morals, And take the time, To realize, We are all very similar people, With distinct differences in which we must overcome, Yes, Really, If we ever want to live, Deliberately. We often wish for a perfection in community, living deliberately, individuality, But we need to come closer, to reality. The idealist view, Can only lead to fatality, You see individuality shows at night, Making deliberate living take a plight, Community is but, Filled with a lack buoyancy, As it sinks beneath the surface level, Individuality its anchor. Not many know, What goes on in the dark, But I see it, The lust, The harassment, The anger, The pain, And so much more making an individual, Not everyone is ready for that, And a community will never be, Don’t you see? Page 41
I tried to stand so proudly, To represent I, But, The I bent, An e added, Representing we, People could not take, What was really me, Talking behind my back, I guess “that’s the tea”, Talking so much, So that it became belief, That I was moody like the weather lately, Shutting people down, Like what happens to laptops on the daily, That I am mean, But it is not always, What it seems, People need to learn to communicate, So that you don’t let, Your perception dictate, And start, To alienate, And fill yourself, With so much hate, Gossip, Is not all that great, And all it takes for drama to end, Is to communicate, Because that allows wounds, To regenerate. But they do not understand why I am so reserved, Why I speak, Such little words, There is wisdom in few words spoken, Often in the past I have seen, My words broken, Up like a scrabble word puzzle, Might as well, Put me on a muzzle, Play my words carefully, Page 42
Like doubles, Trying, To stay out of trouble. Still searching for where I belong, I sometimes feel like, I have been living all wrong, Pain a symphony, For this melancholy song, I float like a balloon in the air, Drifting and sometimes stopping only, Only to move again, My life as a bear. I want to be great, So I need to start going, Forward on the straightaway, They often call life, To create a way, To get away from strife, To be honest this straightaway is in truth not straight, Full of curves and dips, Which increases the weight, On my shoulders, But wait, Look out for the boulders, They’re crashing down, They want to take, The crown, I call my dream. Dream of impact, Dream of connections, Dream to be immortalized before I leave, To accomplish what’s undone, And cherish the time spent here, Under the mountain. Will Onubogu ’22
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Mia Lake ’20 “Bredrin”
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Quarantine Journal What an interesting time we live in right now. A year ago, my parents would be forcing me to leave the house and go see some friends who are also home from school. Now my parents are urging me to stay in the house and to ‘do my part’ to keep my loved ones safe. Although life has become very boring quite quickly, it has allowed for me to reconnect with my family. With my sister living away at college, our schedules do not always line up; this is the first time that my whole family is home together since Winter break. It has been amazing to reconnect as a family again; we have had family game night with Monopoly (I won in dramatic fashion) and many movie nights. We as a family have also been searching vigorously to find a new puppy to rescue. We have filled out many applications but unfortunately by the time we are accepted the puppies we have been looking at are already gone. Although these times have given me great opportunities to reconnect with my family, it has also taken some normal activities away from me. I haven’t been able to see my friendsmuch, pretty much since the first two weeks I was home. On top of not being able to see myfriends, I have not been able to skate for weeks now. I always find a way to skate one way or another, so this time is proving to be rather difficult for me; it is what I love to do most, but I cannot risk leaving the house and bringing the virus back to my family. Without a doubt it has been tough, but I have learned to adapt given the circumstances. I have been working out at home every day, shooting pucks outside and running around my neighborhood. It has also been more diligent than ever to keep in touch with friends. I want to keep in touch with everyone, but it isn’t nearly as easy as walking down the hallway in the dorm and going to their rooms. It has also been very hard not being able to see either of my grandmothers or my great grandmother. On one hand, I desperately want to see them again, but I do not want to risk anything, as they are all at very high risk. I have seen my grandmother once, as she came over for a walk. When all is said and done, the hardest part of this is not being able to see loved ones ;but in order to continue on through these terrible times, we need to keep in mind the brighter days that lie ahead. Sooner or later all will be back to normal; we will be back under the mountain, back with the ones we love, and back doing the things we love. Jack Marottolo ’21
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Quarantine Project Going into Pro Vita, I hadn’t really thought about COVID-19 and how it might affect me in the coming weeks. I was not prepared for how it would change the rest of my junior year. When I originally thought about COVID-19, I thought of it as a disease that was spreading throughout China and Asia, not a disease that would spread this far this fast. So being hit with the upheaval so hard has been difficult to understand and work through. Also, being in another country and seeing how different governments are handling this disease is interesting. Since I am in the UK with my family, we have been watching the news almost every night for live updates from the Prime Minister and health officials. They are placing many rules around where people can and cannot go, how often they can leave their homes and how far apart they are allowed to be from each other. Currently, we are only allowed to leave our homes once a week or for anything “essential” like food shopping. I am thankful that I live in a small village where I am able to go out walking and not see many people. I must admit sometimes when I go out for a walk with my sisters, we get funny looks and lectures from people in the village saying we are teens that are creating havoc and that we should not be outside. I have come to understand that those people are probably just scared about everything that is happening and do not know how to deal with it. But looking at how Trump and his administration are handling the disease is very different from the UK. People are self-isolating but not to the extent where it will help prevent the spread of the disease. Young people especially are still going outside because they don’t believe the rules apply to them because they are not vulnerable to COVID-19. It will be interesting to see how Trump enforces rules rather than just advice in order to control the spread and help save the vulnerable groups of people. Being stuck in my house day after day, not having anything to amuse me other than watching TV is getting very difficult very fast. Now, once school has started, doing homework will keep me busy and make me feel less insane in the house. Trying to go out on car rides and delivering food and necessities to my grandparents are also ways I am trying to keep occupied. I just know that it will be a long few months with just me and my family stuck in the house. Not going back to school and doing online school for the rest of the year has been hard to wrap my head around. Not being able to see any of my friends, any of the seniors that are supposed to be graduating, none of my teachers, it will be hard. One of the reasons I chose to go to Berkshire was the way the community made me feel. I felt a part of something, and the spread of COVID-19 has taken that away. But the work will be a distraction, a distraction for everything I feel right now. For everything I feel about Coronavirus. To answer the question, how all this upheaval is affecting me. It is affecting me poorly, but I must think about the bigger picture, that my problems are less severe than what other people are facing right now. The people in the vulnerable groups. They need help and I must think about them in a time like this, rather than just thinking about myself all the time. Hannah Hudson ’21 Page 46
Jackson Chapin ’20 “Attitude”
Ellie LaCasse ’22 “Collage”
The Dome
Berkshire School 245 North Undermountain Road Sheffield, MA 01257-9672