Jackson Prep "Mindprints" 2019

Volume X I

Mindprints 2019

The Literary and Arts Magazine of Jackson Preparatory Junior High

2019

Volume XI

Mindprints 2019

Volume XI

Mindprints

The Literary and Arts Magazine Jackson Preparatory Junior High School Volume XI 2019

May Flowers • Jane Hurst • 9 • printmaking

mindprints@jacksonprep.org 3100 Lakeland Drive Flowood, MS 39232 601-939-8611

Editor’s Note The willingness to confront this world of ours with fervor, curiosity, and a child-like playfulness is what this year’s Mindprints hopes to showcase. When looking at our pool of submissions, a literary tone of playfulness and the visual motifs of printmaking and vibrant color emerged. As editor, I found the process of putting this publication together to be fascinating. The diversity presented in each type of writing displays the versatility of play. From fables to six-word stories to monologues, they all present the exuberant uniqueness of our student body.

As you read, delve into the rich colors layered throughout each spread, dive into the meanings of each literary piece, and surround yourself with a playful optimism needed within our “too realistic” world.

Trinity Scalia

Editorial Policy All selections submitted are from students who attend Jackson Preparatory School Junior High. The following selections for this magazine are chosen based on artistic merit, creativity, and style by the staff of Mindprints, the junior high literary and arts magazine.

The views represented in Mindprints are those of the individual students and do not necessarily reflect those of the staff, the advisors, or the Jackson Preparatory School Board of Trustees. Student members of the Mindprints staff conduct the design, layout, and proofreading of the magazine, and the works published are solely those of Jackson Prep students.

Each student work in this volume is labelled with the artist’s name, grade level, and genre of work.

Mindprints Staff 2019 Editor

Graphic Design Editor Staff

Trinity Scalia Chloe Reynolds Anna Blaire Bryant Veronica Chough Charlie Hight Anna Clinton Lee Havens Smith Jake Vineyard

Faculty Advisors

Mrs. Kimberly Reedy Mrs. Kathryn Shuff

Selection of Staff and Submission of Student Work Jackson Preparatory students, grades seven through nine for the current year’s publication of Mindprints, are encouraged to submit works of art, creative writing, and photography to mindprints@jacksonprep.org

by March 1st of the current school year. The staff collaboratively reviews, selects, and uses the student submissions to design the spreads of the magazine. In the back of this publication is a listing of spreads designed by specific individuals from the staff.

Jackson Preparatory students, grades eight and nine, who are interested in joining the Mindprints staff for the next school year should complete and submit their application packet by May 15th to mindprints@jacksonprep.org.

HELLO, BOAT • Cover Art KK Heigel • 9 • printmaking

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Couplets | Dramatic Monologue | Editorial | Fable | Six-Word Story Short Story | Free Verse | Lyric Poetry | Parody | Sonnet

Poetry and Prose Too Young 9 Chloe Reynolds When the Storm Comes

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Thomas Wasson

The Alps 12 Ben Futvoye Star Struck 15 Anna Voynik God’s Promise 17 Emily Metcalf The Broken Friendship

18-19

William Deas

Ali Kemer 21 Lila Murphy Oh, How I Miss You

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Rose Hsieh

My Price of Progress

24-25

Ian Underwood

American Citizens First

28-29

Julia Stradinger

from the office of a Mr. President

30-31

Rebecca Stafford

The Sinkhole Wall

32-33

Annie Jicka

Here We Go Again

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George Pittman

A Rainy Night 37 Will Gibbs Scene One: Dreams and Auditions

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Mary Robinson Coco

Scene Two: The Unforgiving World

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Mary Robinson Coco

Scene Three: Performance

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Mary Robinson Coco

Scene Four: Finale

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Mary Robinson Coco

Floating Past Me 46 Garner Watkins My Eggs 49 Julia Stradinger

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Do Vaccinations in Children Cause Negative Effects?

50-51

Caroline Yelverton

But the Orange Is Here

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Jack Harvey

Paradise 54 Eliza Maxwell Ode to the Pie

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Jeffrey Jordan

a six-word story

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Trinity Scalia

Seasons 59 Jake Vineyard Look Within 61 Rachel Regan The Cologne Cathedral

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Jane Hurst

Sometimes Pretty Birds Cannot Sing Well

64-65

Akhila Adari

Free 66 Sam Graves The Inevitable End

68-70

Chloe Reynolds

All Alone 72 Maggie Boswell Sleeping in the Smoke

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Lampton Moore

The Menacing Furnace

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Veronica Chough

The Haunted House

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Brenden Berry

Peril 79 Worth Hewitt Outlier 81 Emma Rose Crowded Silence 82 Wat Rutledge Landslide 84 Annie Jicka Nature in Art or Art in Nature?

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Ben Futvoye

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Acrylic | Collage | Colored Pencils | Digital Art | Mixed Media Mosaic | Photography | Printmaking | Watercolor

Art and Photography

Pink Flower 8-9 Anna Clinton Lee

Birdsong 65 Charlie Hight

Reflections 11 Riley McCoy

Red Cardinal 67 Rachel Watts

Pointed Peaks 12-13 Havens Smith

River Song 69 Chloe Reynolds

Out of This World

Buds of May 71 Emily Metcalf

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Ann Clayton Cain

Baby Deer 16-17 Chase Thompson

Neon Lights 74-75 Riley McCoy

Sunrise at Grandma’s

Neglected 77 Max Van Pelt

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Riley McCoy

City Meets Sea 22-23 Samantha Johnson

Ruby Falls 78 Cate Nall

Lost Shoe 26-27 Riley McCoy

Hissss. . . 80 Trinity Scalia

Old Town Road 34-35 Veronica Chough

Puffy Cloud 82-83 Kayleigh Yung

A Different Perspective

goodbye, sun 87 Havens Smith

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Riley McCoy

Rodent in Blue 38-39 Charlie Hight Mary O’Nette 41 Trinity Scalia Blossoms of Spring

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Claire Cothren

Model 45 Rose Hsieh The Man 46-47 Trinity Scalia Cock of the Walk

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Chloe Reynolds

Swag Man 57 Addi Shelton Rachel’s Many Faces

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Rachel Rutledge

Running Man 60 Jenna Lancon Splash & Fontana D’acqua

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Cate Nall

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Pink Flower

Anna Clinton Lee • 9 • photography

Too Young

Chloe Reynolds • 8 • free verse

You say that I am too young To feel real pain To know despair To have difficulties You are right I am too young For these things Too young To be used to violence To train for school shootings To accept the destruction of the world I am too young To be used to the pain That this world provides But I am not too young to change The direction of my life The normalities that I have come to know The world Because I am the next generation And I have all the power To change the violence that I have come to know 8

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When the Storm Comes

Thomas Wasson • 9 • free verse

Rain drops pound on the tin roof above the beating of a million droplets drones out all but rusty shutter hinges whining in the roaring wind and a burst of lightning in the distance warning of the night to come.

Outside streets are empty stores abandoned, No one’s home, but the few too close to home.

Who huddles together like castaways,

heads bowed, eyes closed, hands holding each other steady,

hoping for safe passage through the might of the storm.

Reflections

Riley McCoy • 9 • photography

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The Alps Ben Futvoye • 9 • sonnet I wish I could go back nine years ago such wonder was in that beautiful sight when I saw the mountains covered with snow I can so clearly remember that night.

They were created so intricately, with soaring heights that went into the clouds.

I wish those thoughts remained so clear to me.

Oh, how His knowledge and glory abounds.

My memory fades of those glory days.

I still see sights that remind me of them.

The mountains had a thoughtful little gaze, but all the signs and wonders point to Him. The creator of the world in which we live who makes us gifts in which we seek to give.

tal igi

art

d s eak • 9 • P d th

i e int ns Sm o P ve Ha

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Star Struck

Anna Voynik • 9 • free verse As I stand gazing upon the stars with only the force of gravity holding me from becoming one with the galaxy planets colliding and stars being strewn across the black horizon glowing dust speckled craters giant worlds all melt into One. A mosaic of crackling life and wonders endlessly indulging the Earth, with my eyes glazed on light and wonder, I can’t help but be Star Struck.

Out of this World

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Ann Clayton Cain • 9 • mixed media

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God’s Promise

Emily Metcalf • 9 • free verse I see, I see the reds the oranges the greens and the blues the rainbow in the water.

It comes to give life, not to destroy like the flood.

Can you see? Can you see? the curves the lines the distinctions and the fades revealed in me?

Do my words give life or do they destroy?

I hope, I pray, I promise to try to live in a way that shines like the rainbow.

Baby Deer Chase Thompson • 8 • watercolor

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The Bro ke n

Friendship

By: William Deas • 9 • free verse

When the basin of everlasting blue began to overflow, the water rolled over the edge and ran directly into my city that was sitting warm to the ocean’s shoreline.

For as long as I can remember my city and the sea had been close, loving friends, each benefiting the other.

The sea would gift the city with fish and crustaceans for its people to dine on and the sea’s vast possession of oil spills provided the city with great wealth.

My city, in return, gave the sea constant boats coming in and out of its massive, crowded ports to skim over the water and massage the sea’s surface.

The city’s children supplied the sea with company when they danced in the water with their tiny feet.

As the tide came ashore and built magnificent sand castles on its long, white beaches, one afternoon the relationship came to an end.

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Dark, looming clouds walked across the skyline in the city’s direction full of harm and corruptness.

The sea’s waves began to grow a foot a minute and were soon tapping at the first line of buildings.

The people tried to evacuate as quickly as possible, but every highway and road filled with traffic until all vehicles could no longer move forward as all of the mayhem was occurring the water continued to proceed deeper and deeper into the limits of the city.

As it rose and moved on, the destruction began to add up buildings flooded and cars floated trees fell and electricity failed and the saddest of them alllives ended.

As darkness covered the earth, the flood raged on conquering whatever might have stood in its path.

The losses of the flood are still mourned to this day, and the sea still carries the burden and feels the guilt as it looked down upon by the city on the shoreline above.

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Ali Kemer

Lila Murphy• 9 • free verse He wakes up early, He walks outside, He has work to do.

He calls his dog, He saddles his horse, He has work to do.

He rides over the sandy hills, He heads towards his herd, He has work to do.

He sees the turning of the orange sky, He knows he’ll have enough time, He has work to do.

He rounds up his horses, He leads them to new grounds, He has work to do.

He finishes the trail, He leads them out, Ali Kemer has work to do.

Sunrise at Grandma’s

Riley McCoy • 9 • photography

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Oh, How I Miss You Rose Hsieh • 9 • sonnet

Oh, how I miss the busy city streets, the peaceful but the never silent streets.

Oh, how I miss the homemade little sweets, the warming and forever shining lights.

Oh, how I miss the never-ending laughs, but also all the sad and bleak goodbyes.

Oh, how I miss the glad and joyful chats, but also all those sad, depressing cries.

However, just in two months I’ll be back to the lovely city I’ve been living in where I will finally get to relax.

The place where all of my life I had been.

Oh, how I miss you, my love, dear Shanghai, Once I get there, I cannot say goodbye.

City Meets Sea Samantha Johnson • 7 • photography

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My Price of Progress Ian Underwood • 8 • short story

The year is 2085. On Earth, the human race is growing rapidly and natural resources are running out.

The government has noticed this terrible problem, and they think they have found a solution. One thing all humans understand is that there will be sacrifices.

I could not help him, nor could anyone else.

My name is Jim Thompson. I am alone in my fishing boat recording this on August 21, 2085. Why am I alone? Well, my grandfather and I used to fish together, but he passed away last year due to complications from a common cold. I can still hear the conversations that we would have when I was a little boy.

“All right, Jim, cast the rod right there,” said Pop encouragingly.

“Ok, Pop. Here goes! Did you used to go fishing with your grandfather?” I asked.

“I did, Jimbo, but not as often as

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I wanted to. There’s never enough time for fishing. Many special things happen when you’re fishing.

One day, you’ll bring your boy to this spot just as I do with you,” Pop softly remarked.

“Yes sir, Pop, I will. Hey, I got a bite!” I said excitedly.

You see, our planet was running out of natural resources, the ones you HAVE to have to live. First, we ran out of gasoline. Unless you could walk to work, you were stuck trying to make a living within walking distance from your front door. Then, it was fresh water. There were no swimming pools and all the natural bodies of water have dried up or have shrunk. Even the pond where I fished with Pop is nothing but mud now. When these natural resources were depleted, the government was faced with the question, “How do we share what is left?”

Laws were passed to drastically limit the population. One law stated that citizens were only allowed to

have one child. The government looked at society and noticed that the least useful citizens were the elderly, so a second law was passed.

This law put an age limit on who could receive professional medical care: anyone younger than sixty. For example, with this law in place, if you were sixty-two and you had the stomach bug, you were not allowed to see a doctor. People’s jobs were also affected by this law. People who worked in nursing homes lost their jobs because there was not a need for such a place anymore.

After this law had been in effect for two years and the population had been decreasing slowly, my grandfather caught a common cold.

Now, you are probably thinking that since it was just a cold, he would be fine, but it got worse. I could not help him, nor could anyone else.

A few days had passed since he had had a cold, and I went to the pharmacy to try to get medicine for myself that I could turn around and give him.

“Hi, I am Jim Thompson. I’m here to pick up a prescription,” I said.

“Yes, Mr. Thompson. We have it right here. All we need to do is give you a blood test to see if you really need the prescription,” the pharmacist explained.

Right at that moment, I knew I would never get the prescription. I failed the blood test and had to go tell my grandfather I could not get the medicine for him. He became one of the many that died due to the lack of medical attention.

I married a beautiful woman and have a baby girl. I am happy, but I wish we could have another child. I will never have a baby boy to carry on Pop’s name. He would have liked that.

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Lost Shoe

Riley McCoy • 9 • photography

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American Citizens First Julia Stradinger • 9 • editorial

On Tuesday, February 12, 2019, hundreds of immigrants and their families who are currently citizens of the U.S. began a large protest in Washington, D.C. As they marched to the Trump Hotel, they declared that permanent residency should be given to thousands of immigrants fleeing into the U.S. from war or natural disasters back home (Lang). These immigrants entering the U.S. would have the option to become TPS (Temporary Protected Status) recipients. First, a TPS recipient must be from one of ten specific countries to apply for the protected status. Then, if accepted, they are granted a time period of usually 6-18 months in which they can legally live and work in the U.S. (Wilson 2). Once that time period ends, I believe that extended time should not be given an immigrant, even if they claim they need it to complete the citizenship process or other matters.

I agree with the TPS program, which gives granted applicants safety and time.

After their 6-18 month period is up, however, I think that immigrants must either return to their home country or already have completed the citizenship process. The Washington immigrant protesters and liberal Americans take a

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more permanent approach to the TPS program, arguing that if a TPS recipient needs more time after their status has expired, it should be given to them.

Jose Aleman, a former El Salvador immigrant, declared, “We cannot live our lives hoping that in 18 months we will be allowed to stay in our homes, with our children, working at our jobs” (Lang). While I understand what a difficult situation this is, I also believe that American citizens are the first and foremost priority.

In my opinion, we can’t let thousands of immigrants continue to live for free and work in the U.S. while struggling American citizens cannot find jobs.

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics Survey, the U.S. unemployment rate is 4.0%, having raised 0.3% since September of 2018 (“U.S. Unemployment”). With 6,535,000 American citizens unemployed, we can’t afford to have more jobs taken away by immigrants from warring countries who are already staying longer than provided to them. I believe that 6-18 months of time in the U.S. is generous enough of our country.

Letting immigrants overstay their 6-18 months also brings about the issue of money. As of December 31, 2018, the national debt of the United States of America is 21.9 trillion dollars. It’s also predicted to grow another trillion dollars in 2019 (“The National Debt Explained”). That’s a very large sum of

money growing by the minute. With the amount being this much, can we really afford to support the TPS program any more than we already do? I don’t think so. YES, we should let immigrants coming from bad situations utilize the TPS program; but NO, they should not be allowed to extend their stay for a long duration of time. That’s just not realistic.

Some argue that the citizenship process is too lengthy and hard for the time period the TPS program offers.

While it is a long process, things like this can and should be fixed. Currently, it takes around 6 months from the time your application is submitted to become an American citizen, due to the many steps (“How to Become a U.S. Citizen”).

I believe that this is still no excuse for letting TPS recipients overstay their time.

In 1920, my then four-year-old grandfather and his family of eight came to America from Lebanon with barely anything. Though it was hard and they were poor for a very long time, they went through the lawful process to obtain citizenship, and after doing so, began a new life in the U.S. as legal citizens. I am here because they chose to do it the right way, even if it was hard.

Yes, we are a country that welcomes others, but if there are no regulations for extending time and money to thousands of immigrants entering the U.S., only chaos can result. Programs like TPS are great, but when they are abused or simply extended, it’s not beneficial to our country.

Works Cited “How to Become a U.S Citizen?” VisaGuide.World, 2018, visaguide.world/tips/how-to-become-aus-citizen/.

Lang, Marissa J. “‘I Feel This Is My Home’: Hundreds Protest in Washington to Support Immigrants with Temporary Protected Status.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 12 Feb. 2019, www.washingtonpost.com/ lo ca l/hundre ds-protest-at-w hite-hous eto-support-immigrants with-temporaryprot e c t e d - s t atu s / 2 0 1 9 / 0 2 / 1 2 / 7 a 4 7 5 7 f 8 2 e 3 4 - 1 1 e 9 - 8 1 3 a - 0 a b 2 f 1 7 e 3 0 5 b _ s o r y. html?utm_term=.67a3a6ea60fe.

“The National Debt Explained.” Investopedia, Investopedia, 3 Jan. 2019, www.investopedia. com/updates/usa-national-debt/.

“U.S. Unemployment.” Department of Numbers, 2019, www.deptofnumbers.com/ unemployment/us/.

Wilson, Jill H. “Temporary Protected Status: Overview and Current Issues.” Congressional Research Service, 2018, fas.org/sgp/crs/ homesec/RS20844.pdf.

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mr. president from the office of a

Rebecca Stafford • 9 • dramatic monologue

I always have a burden with this job. I can’t please everyone even with the most neutral decision. I can’t say I don’t know or I don’t care unless I want to throw the little respect I have to the wind. I feel like I’m drowning in a puddle of loneliness that never ends, and all I am ever going to be is a face. Running away seems cowardly, yet I want to do it even more. I don’t want to feel like I can’t say anything right, but that is the way I feel every day I wake up with this job. This job is like a heavy fog. You can’t see anything without a light, and that won’t help to see far ahead. That is how I feel every day. I signed up for this job thinking I could change this country without changing myself, but every time I walk out of this house or that plane, all I feel like I am doing is throwing myself into a different mold, shaving off who I am, bit by bit. This is my job and it never changes.

So, here I am, about to leave again, nothing the way I planned, no escape evident, off to become whoever I am to be today, but one thing is for certain, that person is not me.

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The

Sinkhole Wall

Annie Jicka • 9 • editorial

Donald Trump’s tweet "SECURE THE BORDER! BUILD A WALL!" on August 14, 2014, set the tone for his campaign and administration. Since that time, the idea of a wall has been embedded into the minds of countless Americans, and the President has not stopped his damaging obsession for the project.

What is Trump’s reasoning for his wall? Well, he believes that this barrier will help stop illegal immigrants from coming into our country. The President has said that these people are drug traffickers and terrorists who will take everything away from us. However, the evidence behind the President’s reasoning doesn’t quite add up to me. For example, the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration has said that most traffickers don’t bring drugs by running across the border; instead, they transport it in cars at official checkpoints (Holpuch). Trump’s idea of terrorists coming across the border can also be debunked. According to a State Department Report on terrorism in 2017, “At year’s end, there was no credible evidence indicating that international terrorist groups have established bases in Mexico, worked with Mexican drug cartels, or sent operatives via Mexico into the United States” (“Country Reports on Terrorism”).

With Trump’s destructive

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determination to fulfill the promise of a wall to his supporters, the President cried to Congress for funding. Instead of creating a wall, Trump’s interactions with Congress only caused government shutdowns and more debate.

Did Trump think of the federal workers when he shut the government down for his precious wall? In a January 4th news conference, Trump told the media that he believed the federal workers would be fine with losing some paychecks for the sake of the wall.

However, in a poll conducted by the Government Executive, 72% of federal employees were against the shutdown and only 21% supported it (Katz).

I feel like a wall won’t be able to keep every illegal immigrant out. If someone really wants to come to America, he or she will be able to find a way around a big fence.

Why should I care about this? I’m just a fifteen-year-old girl who only thinks about how many followers I have on Instagram and how long my streaks are on Snapchat. Right? Well, no. I can see how this wall has affected hundreds of thousands of people and families across America. Yes, I know that the government has promised to repay the lost wages of their workers after the shutdown, but they owe 700 million dollars to the Department of Justice alone. According to The New

York Times, the average federal worker lost about $5000 during the shutdown (Patel). How long will it take to repay these people if they’re using all our money to build this useless wall?

Maybe I can see the President’s point of view, but I feel like a wall won’t be able to keep every illegal immigrant out. If someone really wants to come to America, he or she will be able to find a way around a big fence. Is it worth billions of dollars to build something that isn’t a sure fix to the problem?

Our president is so far into this sinkhole of money and time that the only way out is to dig down deeper. Donald Trump declared a national emergency on Friday, February 15. The backlash is substantial as “16 states filed a lawsuit in a Northern California federal court against President Trump's declaration of a national emergency, calling the President's decision to use executive power to fund a border wall unconstitutional” (Paris). Along with this, the House of Representatives has approved a bill that would defund the national emergency.

So what is the magical resolution to this never-ending, money-sucking, and insufficient wall? I think that the wall was just a quick attempt to fix the complicated issue of immigration. Building a wall doesn’t fix everything. It takes time and compromises to solve these issues.

I believe that we should put our time and money into improving the present border patrol and helping our refugee system. Most of these immigrants are trying to flee from horrible situations.

Yes, I know that all of these people are not innocent and sinless, and I can see where the fear of this unknown comes from. However, what right do we have

to turn those looking for safety away, when our ancestors were refugees just like they?

Works Cited “Country Reports on Terrorism 2017.” United States Department of State Publication, Bureau of Counterterrorism. September 2018, p.p. 205, https:// www.state.gov/documents/ organization/283100.pdf.

Holpuch, Amanda. “Six Keys to Know About Trump’s Border Wall Speech.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 9 Jan. 2019, www.theguardian. com/us-news/2019/jan/08/trump-fact-checkspeech-immigration-border-security.

Katz, Eric. “New Poll: Nearly Three-Quarters of Federal Workers Oppose Shutdown, Majority Oppose Wall.” Government Executive, 15 Jan. 2019, www.govexec.com/pay-benefits/2019/01/pollnearly-three-quarters-federal-workers-opposeshutdown-majority-oppose-wall/154183/.

Patel, Jugal K. “A Typical Federal Worker Has Missed $5,000 in Pay From the Shutdown So Far.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 16 January 2019, www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/01/16/ u s / p o l i t i c s / f e d e r a l - s hu t d o w n - s a l a r i e s . html?auth=login-email.

Paris, Francesca. “16 States Sue Over Trump National Emergency Declaration.” NPR, NPR, 19 Feb. 2019, lines 1-3, www.npr. org/2019/02/18/695821740/16-states-sue-overtrumps-national-emergency-declaration.

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My little brother and I ride in the back of the truck on the way to the next event.

Here We Go Again George Pittman • 9 • Free Verse

Each destination is different, but with the same flashing lights, children laughing, and distinct smell of peanuts.

I sense the admiration but never feel the love while we perform our monotonous, rote routine of here we go again.

Old Town Road

Veronica Chough • 9 • photography

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A Rainy Night Will Gibbs • 9 • lyrical poetry

A Different Perspective

The dripping rain surrounds what I can see.

The foggy mist of the night all around me.

I try to run I only slip.

I try to escape from the dark night’s relentless tightening grip.

The people that drive by, what do they think?

Seeing the rain trickle down my face every time that I blink.

I continue to run, but where am I going?

Is this really what I want to be showing?

No goal in sight, no safe place to go in a city full of hope and light, how could I feel so low?

But, then I see the moon and how it begins to shine, breaking through the parting clouds and suddenly, I feel fine.

Riley McCoy • 9 • photography

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Scene One: Dreams and Audition Mary Robinson Coco • 9 • free verse Costumes twirling, slipping into a different skin lights transporting you to another world, a dream ignited in a split second.

My breath comes fast, my drive shattering all thoughts, A star shines an opportunity needed trying to keep going but people are slamming on the breaks.

A small mouse runs across the room, another small insignificant being trying to survive.

Sending in another tape singing till my soul’s in place.

Will they deny me a chance, too?

Will I be another passerby on the street?

Black and white colors never made a difference.

Rodent in Blue on a Slice of American Cheese

Charlie Hight • 9 • digital art

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Scene Two: The Unforgiving World Mary Robinson Coco • 9 • free verse A child presses his hand against the candy store window.

I finally have a chance to make this dream reality.

“Mommy,” he says, “candy!”

I am going to take it!

A girl places her foot down on the dance floor.

Fly to a life in the spotlight where

“Breathe,” she says. “I can do this.”

people can’t cut my strings anymore.

The stage is my home.

A star zooms across the sky.

“I can do this!”

It continues, not even turning its head to look in my direction How many stars have passed me by?

I am a puppet held up by useless strings we call dreams, dragging me to endless places.

One wants a puppet.

A puppet’s place is in a box.

They are only used to mimic what already exists, but what happens when somebody

takes that puppet and cuts its strings?

My strings have been cut by other people time and time again.

I don’t think I need those strings anymore.

Someone finally gave me some wings.

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Mary O’Nette

Trinity Scalia Scalia •• 99 •• mixed Trinity mixed media media

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Scene Three: Performance Mary Robinson Coco • 9 • free verse “Dream big,” they said.

but you can’t achieve it, i said.

“There is nothing you can’t do,” they said. fighting for survival from day to day noises in my head chasing different colors big to small pictures took place and images took hold chasing constantly what I thought was real only to find it wasn’t a clown wearing a mask for attention a slave to the stage trying to find a foothold when there was nothing.

A girl who has everything.

People have adored her; none have gotten to know her.

I am constantly looking at the world from behind a TV screen, watching as people pass by going from one thing to the next.

My life is an open book to the public.

All you have to do is pick it up and read it.

The fourth wall never breaks.

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Blossoms of Spring

Claire Cothren • 9 • printmaking

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Scene 4: Finale Mary Robinson Coco • 9 • free verse People say I have color, so they try to copy it, but I am stuck in black and white.

The black and white TV screen eventually turns to static.

Static is all I see.

Static is all I hear.

People act like I am the color when the world is black and white, a TV model that makes it all right.

Is there more to me besides my face?

Is it possible to find my place?

A girl constantly in a race, trying and failing to set the pace.

I want to find something that only I know that no one can look and try to copy.

Something that is only for me.

Model

Rose Hsieh • 9 • mixed media

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Floating Past Me

Garner Watkins • 9 • free verse I just have to answer this one text then, I’ll watch the parade it can wait just a few seconds, right?

I just have to answer this one text all it is is a few snapchats after those are answered, I’ll hang out with my friends they can wait just a few minutes, right? all it is is a few snapchats I just have to scroll through Instagram really quickly I know this parade is interesting I can see a big orange blob above this black phone case of mine but I can watch it all later, right?

I just have to scroll through Instagram really quickly I can see it all out of the corner of my eye just floating past Me.

The Man

Trinity Scalia • 9 • colored pencils

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My Eggs Julia Stradinger • 9 • lyrical poetry Crackle, Burn, Crackle, Burn I hear the barn come down.

Look, look, and see! but no, not many turn or even give a frown.

I smell the sad smoky wind and feel the hardened earth beneath me.

As the wind begins to send the flames up up! and towards the trees, although the trees are scared to be caught and cry out to the sky, the one who is most distraughtIt is I, running by.

But, no, they don’t know the things I’ve lost in that crackle and that burn.

I guess they’ll never know.

For as I run away, my feathers will not turn.

Cock of the Walk

Chloe Reynolds • 8 •photography

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Do Vaccinations in Children Cause Negative Effects?

Caroline Yelverton • 9 • editorial A vaccination is an act of getting a modified deadened virus to protect you from harmful diseases around your community. Lately, some people believe that vaccinations have been shown to hurt children more than protecting them. These persons believe that vaccines cause autism and other diseases at a young age. On the other hand, doctors are concerned that children without vaccinations are causing more danger to themselves and others compared to the children receiving vaccinations. I believe that parents should vaccinate their children for the well-being of their children and the people around them.

Although some people are convinced that the harm of vaccinations has been shown to be connected to autism, the Department of Health has said that there is no link between developmental disorders and vaccination. The only connection to date between the two is the age they both occur (“The Harm of Skipping Vaccinations or Delaying”). In other words, the first signs of autism appear around the same age as children receive their vaccinations, and thus, parents seem to blame their child's disease with the act of vaccinations.

In reality, skipping vaccinations has caused more issues than the

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actual vaccinations themselves. In the medical field, there is a major difference between children that are vaccinated versus children that are not vaccinated. The diseases that are spread throughout our community are very dangerous to those who have not received vaccinations. If you get an illness at a young age without the aid of vaccination, your symptoms are much worse, your disease is much more impacted, and the death rate is a lot higher. The risk of this vaccine hurting you is 1 in 10 million as opposed to 1 in 1000 without the vaccine (Campbell). This is proof enough that the benefits outweigh the potential harm. I believe that no side effects are worse than the fact of your child dying due to the lack of vaccination.

Parents who want to have “chickenpox parties” to allow their kids to get the disease “naturally” are misinformed.

On the other hand, I think there are some logical reasons to skip vaccinations. The idea of your sixmonth-old child getting five shots in one checkup is alarming and very overwhelming for both the child and

the parent. Many parents complain about the fact that their children cry or a rash is caused by the needle.

They believe that future issues are rising. The amount of shots a child is required to receive in one year is excessive. I also believe that some vaccines include ingredients such as mercury, aluminum, formaldehyde, and antifreeze that can be harmful in the long term. Some of these chemicals can also cause allergic reactions which can be harmful or even fatal to a young child. These toxins have been shown to be potentially dangerous (Campbell).

There has been a study shown that the vaccination rate in private schools is as low as 50%, which can be traced back to the ultimate reason for outbreaks within communities (Campbell). The explanations of parents of the undervaccinated kids or unvaccinated kids have reasons, yet these same parents do not understand the harm they exposing their kids and others to. The people who only rely upon the internet for information, without consulting their physicians, are likely receiving misinformation. Parents who want to have “chickenpox parties” to allow their kids to get the disease “naturally” are misinformed. Dr. Andrew Bernstein, a clinical assistant professor of pediatrics at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine expressed his frustration when he said, “I have held the hand of a mom whose son was dying of chickenpox. People promoting chickenpox parties haven’t seen what I’ve seen; they haven’t done the research I’ve done” (Campbell).

These words touched me, and I

believe that the health of children is paramount in having a growing and prosperous society. Unfortunately, vaccinating children is the one public health intervention that parents should adhere to but are intentionally ignoring.

Works Cited Campbell, Leah. “Doctors Urge Parents to Vaccinate Younger Kids After Measles Outbreak” Healthline Media. January 15, 2019. https://www.healthline. com/health-news/how-to-protect-your-childduring-a-measles-outbreak.

“The Harm of Skipping Vaccinations or Delaying.” New York State Department of Health. www.health. ny.gov/prevention/immunization/vaccine_ safety/harm.htm. Accessed 21 February 2019.

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Jack Harvey • 9 • free verse

But the Orange Is Here

the unknown of danger is here. the scent of destruction the scent of helplessness, is in the air.

But the Orange Is Here. darkness is swallowing the scene. nowhere to go, totally dependent, unable to prevail, But the Orange Is Here. climbing down, looking around, fixing the problem, the Orange Is Here. with eyes like an eagle the problem is seen. while the job is tough, the end is near. with the danger passed, the gratitude comes from all. far and wide the surroundings see The Orange Is Here.

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Paradise

Eliza Maxwell • 9 • free verse

Morning fogginess drifts off the water the rhythm of the waves hitting the sand puts me in a trance while the adrenaline pulses through my veins.

The waves push me further into the embrace of the big blue.

Above me a kite befriends the sky and reassures me that the stress of life cannot reach me.

I diminish in the size of the sea.

A smile covers my face in my happiest place surrounded by sound of the crashing waves.

The endless ocean,

Ode to the Pie

Jeffrey Jordan • 9 • sonnet/parody

I love its sav’ry sauce and melting cheese, The nearly perfect texture of its crust.

I think I’d gladly eat a box with ease.

It’s just so full of flavor, so robust.

Many diff ’rent types with toppings galore, Variety from which it’s hard to pick As I walk down the aisles of the store And as I feel the urge my lips to lick.

When a meal nears its end, I’m often heard: “No, that last piece is mine,” I often say.

A fight breaks out, each fight’r an early bird; For the proverb’al worm we fight away.

And yet it all ends well. We each eat a Half a slice of golden, cheesy pizza.

A paradise in my eyes, whispers to me the sounds of contentment.

Nothing could be better than this.

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“Music makes the man, the icon.”

-Trinity Scalia

Swag Man

Addi Shelton • 9 • mixed media

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Seasons

Rachel’s Many Faces • Rachel Rutledge • 8 • printmaking

Jake Vineyard • 9 • couplets

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Seasons come and seasons go.

They take us far and let us know who we are and what we will be, whom we'll meet and what we'll see pulling back the layers of what we are as we run, run, run so very far.

We find ourselves with cuts and scars because we sought after the stars.

But seasons came and seasons went.

They left us tired and hell-bent, but now that we’re here I can surely see that those very seasons made me Me.

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Look Within Rachel Regan • 9 • free verse

Hidden, Hidden,

behind a screen behind the crime

Everybody wants to look within, But scared they might get caught, Trying to find something they didn’t want to know in the first place Found, Found,

at the scene

guilty of the crime

But, has anybody actually found him?

The child who had dreams the boy who had a future now he’s all grown up, but he’s still Hidden, behind a screen

Running Man

Jenna Lancon • 9 • mixed media

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The Cologne Cathedral Jane Hurst • 9 • couplets

A giant of German architecture stands, proud and painstakingly planned.

With the words tolerance and hope, Germany is offered a way to cope.

Colorful projections along the facade wash away all that is flawed.

The destruction and pain of the past fades slowly with the projector’s cast.

Seven centuries to be completed, each artist was not defeated.

Every tourist and passerby finds a meaning to apply.

Splash & Fontana D’acqua Cate Nall • 9 • photography

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Sometimes Pretty Birds Cannot Sing Well Akhila Adari • 8 • fable

One sunny, humid morning in North Cascades National Park in Seattle, Washington, there was a beautiful blue bird named Chirp, whose feathers were so vibrant that he stood out from other birds.

Chirp was obsessed with singing and was always fascinated by the talent and art in singing. This morning Chirp decided he would sing for everyone at the park, and hopefully, they would enjoy the tunes. “Here goes nothing,” Chirp said. “eeeek aa ooo eeeek,” Chirp sang.

“I don’t need a shooting star because I believe I have an amazing voice.”

A woman dressed in a satin pink coat and fur boots couldn’t stand Chirp’s singing. “Aaahhh!

Stop this singing this second!” she declared. The woman called animal patrol to come and take Chirp.

When the animal patrol came to the park, the lady pointed to Chirp who was propped on top of a tree branch.

“That’s the bird,” she exclaimed.

A tall, thin man went to the branch, rested a ladder against the tree, and climbed up to get Chirp from 64 Mindprints

the tree. At first glance, the man noticed that Chirp was a beautiful, rare bird only found in certain places in the world. The man placed Chirp into a cage and put him in his van. A few hours into this journey, Chirp saw that his cage was not locked, and he was able to escape. He found the key that was still inserted in the lock at the back entrance of the van and busted out of the doors.

“Hey, come back here!” exclaimed the man. The man rerouted in full speed to the direction Chirp was headed, but he ran into a ginormous tree stump covered in moss. ‘‘Sksksksk” went the tire, flattening quicker than the man’s driving. Meanwhile, Chirp was flapping his wings as fast as he could. When he looked back, he noticed that he couldn’t see the man behind him, so Chirp began to slow down. But before Chirp could have a sense of relief, there was a tree in front of him, which he happened to bump into.

“BAAM!” Chirp fell on the floor in instant dizziness. When Chirp woke up, he noticed he was in front of the entrance of a forest called “Chanter Forest,” which meant singing forest in French. It received this name because of the

many beautiful unknown singing voices heard in the forest. Chirp proceeded into the forest and started observing the gorgeous colors and all the distinguishing personalities of the different animals. The further he got, the more people he saw, and the more he had explored. Chirp saw a whole assortment of different birds that were special in their own way.

“Lalala laa” The birds began to sing a melodious tune. Chirp wanted to join the fun. He began to sing along. “eeek ooaaw shriek!”

Chirp sang. All the birds paused singing and stared at Chirp.

Chirp looked around and saw a bright pink bird that had beautiful feathers. He noticed earlier that she had the sweetest voice out of all the birds. Her name was Fiona.

“I’ve never heard such terrible singing before,” Fiona exclaimed. Chirp felt ashamed and embarrassed by his singing, so he flew away.

That night, a sad Chirp felt hungrier than a horse, so he went to find some food to eat. While finding grains for his dinner, he came upon a wise owl who asked him why he was in such a mournful state. Chirp explained his situation and asked the wise owl for some

advice.

The owl said, “You must believe you can sing to be able to sing.” The wise owl pointed to a shooting star.

“Make a wish,” the owl said. “ I don’t need a shooting star because I believe I have an amazing voice,” Chirp reassured.

“Good job! And remember, sometimes the most beautiful birds cannot sing well until they believe in themselves.”

Since then, Chirp has become the most talented singer, with the others wishing they had a voice as amazing as Chirp’s. Even Fiona is jealous of him. Chirp learned that his imperfections are his perfections.

Birdsong

Charlie Hight • 9 • digital art

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Free Sam Graves • 9 • lyrical poetry On the wire I balanced high in the mountain air scared out of my mind.

My courage was bare.

My arms outstretched.

To keep me from a great fall, I looked down amidst the clouds.

Below me everything was so small.

Without missing a beat, I crept across the line whilst on the wire I was walking on air.

I knew now I was free.

Red Cardinal

Rachel Watts • 8 • mosaic

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The Inevitable End

Chloe Reynolds • 8 • short story It had been 2093 when we had to evacuate our home in ModestoMerced, California, during the humid summer. The pollution in the air, on the ground, and in the water became too life-threatening. I was eleven-yearsold when we had to start wearing anti-pollution face masks. The next year, children stopped going to school physically. The government became concerned about safety, and all schools became limited to only being online.

Day to day living had become making sure that every connection to the outside world was sealed off. Life has become about surviving; all activities that I enjoyed have converted into dull memories. It is a cruel thing to raise a child in this world.

My name is Valeria Davis although my eight-year-old sister, Cecilia, and my mother, Claudia, both call me Vee. I never knew my father, but I know it is better that he is not in our lives. I once craved a traditional childhood because so much of my life had been trying to survive and take care of my sister. I found myself in a constant state of exhaustion. I did not want to be in charge of someone; I wanted to take care of myself. I understand that appears egotistical, but I had never gotten to focus on my life or my needs.

However, those thoughts were before my life started to tumble downhill, and it all began like any other day.

“Valeria, do not tell me that you

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are still sleeping! You know that I need your help in taking care of Cecilia. You cannot keep behaving like a child. It is time for you to grow up,” my mother scolded me at the foot of my bed. She had subtle tones of disappointment in her voice. I regret treating her the way I did.

“I’m on my way. Calm down!

Aren’t you supposed to be the adult?”

I thoughtlessly insulted. She did not acknowledge my commentary. I knew that I had hurt her, and I knew that she was working as hard as she was able. I wish I would have known that Cecilia was listening to our dispute.

Perhaps if I had been kinder to my mother, our journey would have been better. I stepped through the house and approached my mother, anxiety evident in her facial expressions. “What is so important that I had to get up an hour earlier than usual?” I questioned, thoroughly vexed.

“We are leaving today. It is no longer safe here. The anti-pollution masks are not fully filtering out the toxins anymore due to the increase in pollution,” Mother said calmly, but I could detect her distress and see the dark circles under her eyes. She was fidgeting with the locket that my grandfather gave to her before this all began. She did this when she was concerned about something.

“Leaving? Where are we supposed to go? If we’re not safe in the house, we won’t be safe traveling across the land.”

I did not desire to go. Life may not have been blissful in Modesto-Merced, but it was my hometown. “What will we tell Cecilia? Oh hi, you have to leave the only place you’ve ever known. Oh,

and you probably won’t be able to take most of your belongings. I’m sure she will respond wonderfully to that,” I knew I was harsh, but I did not want to part from my home.

“Go. You need to wake your sister. Help her pack a bag and pack yours. We will leave in one hour,” she commanded me with all the composure she could dig up. I reckon that Cecilia overheard me advancing towards her room because when I opened the door, she turned over in her bed and clenched her eyes, feigning sleep.

“Vee, are we going to a new home now?” Her voice was quivering, tears welling in her eyes, and her nose and cheeks crimsoned. I should have been more reassuring. What right did I have to tear her spirits?

“I doubt it. We probably won’t make it past the river,” my voice was monotone, and my tone was sharp.

We set out for the Safe Place, or the city as my mother kept addressing it, fifty minutes following. We were all clothed in our anti-pollution masks, long-sleeve shirts, and pants, to shield our skin. The days were long-drawn, and Cecilia began to feel fatigued from the non-stop traveling. I did not feel much better. We eventually came to the river that is about a two-week journey from our home. The food rations were running low; we knew that we would have to start preserving what little we had left.

“Remember, the river is not shallow, and the current is strong. You will need to stay together. I want both of you to cross before me so I can throw you the supplies,” Mother’s voice was strict and commanding, the tones of anxiety were adamant when she spoke. After both Cecilia and I had crossed the river, Mother tried to throw us the supplies, but the pack had not reached from her to us. She shouted to us that she was going to make a trip to a nearby town to rummage for food, and we should stay where we were by the river until she returned.

As long as I had Cecilia to look after, I would always be there to protect her.

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One week passed, and I knew that we would not survive with the amount of food we had remaining if we lingered in our encampment any longer. Summer was ending, and we needed to leave. “Cecilia, we need to leave,” I uttered solemnly.

“What about Mom? Shouldn’t we wait for her? She told us to wait for her to come back,” Cecilia was always loyal to our mother. I knew it was going to be challenging to get her to leave. I considered telling her that Mom wasn’t coming back, but I couldn’t hurt her like that. I was all she had left, and I wasn’t going to let her down.

“Mom will meet us at the last city.

She wouldn’t want us to stay here without any food.”

“What about when she comes back?

Won’t she be confused about where we went?”

“She’ll know where we went, and she’ll understand that we had to take care of ourselves,” I hated lying to my sister, but I couldn’t take away any of the hope she had left inside her heart. I should have been kinder to my mother before she was gone. I never understood what it was like attempting to raise children in this world, but now I’m afraid that I know all too well. Cecilia did not want to listen to me. She was determined for me to be wrong. She was a bright girl, and she knew what I was implying. Neither of us was ready to accept that we had lost the only parent we ever had. As food became even more scarce during our journey, I stopped eating so that Cecilia could. My hunger was attempting to get the best of me, but I would not

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let it. As long as I had Cecilia to look after, I would always be there to protect her. The days merged into weeks. We had stopped through the occasional abandoned town on our journey, searching for any possible trace of food. Summer was over, and the bones underneath my skin were more visible now than ever. We were close to the city, but I was afraid that we would not achieve our goal and make it.

We eventually ran out of food.

Making it to the city seemed less likely every hour that we kept walking.

Fatigue and hunger began to overtake our bodies, but I swore to myself that I would protect my sister at all costs.

I did not want to break that vow as we were now so close to the end of our travels. We walked until our legs gave out, and we were hungry to the point of starvation. “Vee, I’m tired. I want to go home. I want to see Mom,” the weakness in my little sister’s voice broke my heart as I held her in my arms.

“I know. Go to sleep. Everything will be okay. I love you,” I knew this was the end for us, so I pulled my journal out of my bag as my sister drifted away in my arms. I pulled out a pen and started writing because it was the end for both of us. I wanted to document our journey from beginning to end, and I am afraid that this is the end of my story. I was no hero or savior in the end. I was just a girl.

Buds of May

Emily Metcalf • 9 • printmaking

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All Alone

Sleeping in the Smoke

Embers of hell rain upon me

A room filled with memories good and bad make lungs repleted by ember the walls fall slowly, arousing the dust below waiting to join the ash as it floats in the polluted air the fire gradually engulfs the atmosphere trapping the oxygen in a box never known to be used again.

The man waits for his end whether calm or chaotic swift or slow peaceful or painful the only thing blocking him from his own reality a towel, carelessly thrown on his face acting as a sleep mask where his dreams and nightmares hide behind wishing to escape from his situation at hand.

Maggie Boswell • 9 • free verse

Death fills my lungs All alone.

No person to save me No place to go All alone.

Hell closes in Fire burns high All alone.

A final prayer to save I close my blazing eyes All alone.

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Lampton Moore • 9 • free verse

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The Menacing Furnace

Veronica Chough • 9 • free verse

Its light dims down until only a spark remains.

A blanket of lifeless charcoal disguises the beauty of every standing statue.

Only then can the whispers emerge, ready to tell their story.

Their voices only heard in the silence of what was seen before.

Flakes of former shades of green lift themselves, releasing the beginnings of youth only to be thrown right back into The Menacing Furnace.

Neon Lights

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Riley McCoy • 9 • photography

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The Haunted House Brenden Berry • 9 • short story

Mike stepped into the room, cautiously knowing he wasn’t alone.

The floorboards creaked as he walked through the room, checking everywhere in an effort to find his unknown accomplice. There was a loud crash behind him, and when he turned around, he realized it was just Hunter, his friend, trying to scare him. However, Mike did not find this funny because it was Halloween night, and the boys were in an abandoned house.

Easily frightened and still nervous about what the two boys would find in the house, they proceeded with their exploration.

Room after room, they searched only to find old dusty furniture and books; until in one room, there was a door hidden behind a bookshelf that had been knocked over. As Mike slowly opened the door, they heard a running noise behind them. Startled, Mike jumped back, opening the door to a very foul odor. Then, they heard a creepy voice from behind them say, “You’re next.”

The boys backed up against the wall as the unknown creature, massive in size, entered the room.

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to run. The creature got closer and closer, and then it stabbed Mike in the stomach with one of its long, wretched fingernails. Mike fell down and the last thing he heard was Hunter screaming.

Then daylight, Mike was back in his bed at home. A dream, he thought to himself. Thank goodness.

As he tried to sit up, he felt a sharp pain near his stomach and looked down. A gaping hole in his stomach! Realizing what he had experienced, he wondered what happened to Hunter?

As he turned to look across the street at Hunter’s house, he only noticed one thing. There was a tall mysterious black creature standing at Hunter’s window.

Neglected

Max Van Pelt • 8 • photography

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Peril

Worth Hewitt • 9 • free verse

Alone.

With only the waves to comfort me as the prehistoric beasts close in, my leg and my pride sliced open.

They can smell the blood, and it only draws them closer.

Aching for a bite, they haven’t eaten in days.

I cannot make a distinction in the growling of their stomachs and of their mouths.

I never should have left the group.

They are still driving over the plains, I scream for help, but there is no response not even from the birds.

I am lifted up and carried to safety.

When I wake up I want to thank my rescuers, but they are nowhere to be found.

I realize I am lying in a completely white bed, and the cut on my leg is gone.

A man with a gray beard dressed in white walks in, and I know I am in a better place.

Ruby Falls

Cate Nall • 9 • photography

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Outlier

Emma Rose • 9 • free verse

The heads fall into the cage with their tails not far behind.

Looking through the guard’s eyes yearning to understand why only to see her joyfulness turn into suffering only to see love turn into hate only to see comfort turn into misery.

They see why she does it.

They see how the visitors act around her like a king snake on top of his nest.

The laughter gets louder and louder as they walk by as if she were a rodent on the side of the road.

The heads fall into the cage with their tail not far behind.

Looking through the guard’s eyes they finally understand why.

Hissss. . .

Trinity Scalia • 9 • collage

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Crowded Silence

Wat Rutledge • 9 • lyrical poetry

The golfer walks up waiting to hit the put.

The crowd thinks to itself, “Will he make the cut?’”

Everyone takes a breath as he goes into his swing.

For the time being, You couldn’t hear a thing.

While he follows through striking the ball ‘cross the green, The tension in the air could even be seen.

The heads move with the ball as they watch it roll.

The silence breaks when it goes into the hole.

Puffy Cloud

Kayleigh Yung • 9 • acrylic

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Landslide

Nature in Art or Art in Nature?

Falling down to the ground the words keep on spilling.

Lost control fractured goal the tear ducts are now filling.

in the middle of nature lies a work of art simple lifeless manmade but behind lies the mountains detailed full of life owned by no man

Annie Jicka • 9 • lyrical poetry

Splintered wood wish I could but the odds are stacked against me.

Crashing hard into shards these forces wrestle intensely.

Mournful cries painful sighs how can I keep on going?

Surviving this?

Eternal bliss?

There is no way of knowing.

The friction pushes.

The denial approves.

The end has only begun.

These dirt waves crash.

They smile with their wrath.

The beginning is now done.

Once was maize now a haze the dust is so slow settling.

The sunlight sets yet the back still sweats. from destruction too long meddling.

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Ben Futvoye • 9 • free verse

through the beauty of nature the art stands in contrast from a lifeless piece of wood into a statue defined by its surroundings this art has no place in a museum filled with paintings of nature rather it finds its place among nature standing in it breathing in it living in it to most it looks like a letter of the alphabet to others it looks meaningless but to some it is viewed as a creation characterized not by its composition rather its environment Nature.

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Colophon Mindprints XI is published by Jackson Preparatory Junior High School. Five hundred copies for the student body and public relation endeavors were printed by Dallas Printing of Richland, Mississippi. This volume, using a primary font of Minion Pro, is designed on iMacs with Adobe InDesign CC, Photoshop CC, and Illustrator CC. Mindprints is printed on partially recycled paper with soy-based ink that has no animal byproducts.

Pages 68 - 69....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds Pages 72 - 73....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds Pages 78 - 79....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds Pages 80 - 81....................................................................................................Trinity Scalia Pages 82 - 83....................................................................................................Anna Clinton Lee Pages 84 - 85....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds

Spread Designers Pages 8-9..........................................................................................................Trinity Scalia Pages 10 - 11....................................................................................................Veronica Chough Pages 16 - 17....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds Pages 20 - 21....................................................................................................Havens Smith Pages 24 - 25....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds Pages 34 - 35....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds Pages 36 - 37....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds

Havens Smith Pages 38 - 43....................................................................................................Charlie Hight Pages 46 - 47....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds Pages 48 - 49....................................................................................................Trinity Scalia Pages 54 - 55....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds Pages 56 -57.....................................................................................................Trinity Scalia Pages 58 - 59....................................................................................................Jake Vineyard

goodbye, sun

Havens Smith • 9 • printmaking

Pages 62 - 63....................................................................................................Chloe Reynolds

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Columbia Scholastic Press Association International Critique of Student Publications Crown Awards Competition Silver Crown 2018, 2017 Columbia Scholastic Press Association International Critique of Student Publications Medalist Competition Gold Medal 2018, 2017 National Scholastic Press Association National Critique of Student Publications Pacemaker Finalist 2018 First Class 2018, 2017 Southern Interscholastic Press Association Evaluation of Student Publications Superior 2018, 2017, 2016 American Scholastic Press Association Annual Magazine Competition Most Outstanding Junior High School Literary & Art Magazine for 2018 First Place with Special Merit 2018, 2017 Outstanding Variety of Literature and Art 2017 First Place Award 2016 National Council of Teachers of English Recognizing Excellence in Art and Literary Magazines REALM First Class 2018 Recommended for Highest Award 2017, 2016 Mississippi Scholastic Press Association Excellence in Journalism Awards Overall Literary Magazine, Design, and Theme Finalist 2018, 2017, 2016 Best Literary Magazine in Mississippi 2017

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