chase collegiate school 2016 litmag

LITERARY MAGAZINE 2016

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Content

Editors' Statement Dedication Grateful One-Liner Life Lessons Editors’ Corner Poems Goose Squawk Short Stories Speech Excerpts Foreign Features Senior Voices

Litmag Staff

Editors-in-Chief: Gabriel Pietrorazio and Latrell Powell Assistant Editors in Chief: Angelene Guglielmo and Ryan Aghamohammadi Copy Editor: Kevin Brown Editors: Jakob Gati, Olivia Pettinicchi, and Samantha Austin Cover Artist: Gabriel Pietrorazio Art Editor: Allie Burns

A special thanks to the National Art Honor Society Chapter at Chase Collegiate School

Artists: Gabriel Pietrorazio, Olivia Alosco, Nicholas Bujnowski, Dani D’versa, Maia Demirs, Mikayla Powers, Timothy Healey, Sammatha Austin, Oliva Pettinicchi, Trey Atkins, and Caelan Gadwah-Meaden

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Editors' Statement Purpose: To form relationships between our readers and our works. We want to give people a collection of unforgettable writing that they can hold close to their hearts...writing that is deeply relatable; that can spark emotions. Our goals, dreams, aspirations, and intentions are all visible within the line breaks, rendering images, words of wisdom, and reflections. Literature, where the meaning lies in the readers’ interpretations. As scholars, writers, poets, and artists of every background, we use a varied style to achieve this purpose. Offering: Senior voices, speech excerpts, essay excerpts, short stories, words of wisdom, and poems. Genres and styles to ponder, explore, contemplate, and understand. Once composed in pen and ink, the traditional LitMAG has evolved with our modern culture and entered the digital age. While the format has been modified, the text and message still resonate. Perspective: Molds and changes form through personal interpretations and significance. Viewpoints cultivate insight, growing like vines that must be cut and properly maintained within a garden. Our perspectives can flourish, if we allow them to do so. Intention: We intend for our audience to feel something or anything of worth once you find yourselves amongst the pages, pondering literary pieces and artistic renderings. Write a poem; persuade with an essay; correlate original lyrics to notes and melodies; paint a portrait, draw a drawing, imagine, dream, achieve your passion. Gratitude: Without recognition and praise for notable works and sheer service to this long-lasting publication, we cannot move forward to accomplish the purpose and intentions of the LitMAG. When mixing dedication, talent, support, organization, and craftsmanship together, we are able to provide a publication to entertain everyone. From the bottom of our hearts, we would like to extend our sincerest appreciation toward the participating students, supporting faculty, and LitMAG Staff. We would like to extend an enduring appreciation for Mrs. Gusenburg, who worked by our sides, leading by example. Explore, think, write, draw, believe, and let your imaginations run wild. Sincerely,

Gabriel Pietrorazio ’16 and Latrell Powell ‘16

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Dedication

Our goal in life is to make an impact, achieve greatness, and along the way, forge a legacy immortalized among our peers, society, and community. Cheryl Gusenburg, as we remember her today, surpassed all of these boundaries and expectations. Cheryl began her teaching career in New Haven, followed by seven years at Chase Collegiate School. A graduate of the Class of 1997, Cheryl was truly an inspirational educator, colleague, and friend.

The LitMAG Staff of 2016 dedicates this edition in memory of Cheryl Gusenburg.

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One-Liner Life Lessons “Let waves of words drift across the plains of the mind like tides on sandy beaches.” - Gabriel Pietrorazio “You may not be sleeping, but you still can dream.” - Angelene Guglielmo “If You don’t FEEL it; it means Nothing to You” - Latrell Powell “The sum of your failures does not outweigh the sum of your successes.” - Ryan Aghamohammadi "Never be the same person you were a month ago." - Olivia Pettinicchi “If life is getting easier, you are living it wrong. Keep challenging yourself.” - Kevin Brown "If you're going to be trash, be good trash." - Callie Hoyt "Life's tough; get a helmet." - Jakob Gati

“When in doubt, sass it out.” - Ryan Aghamohammadi

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Editors’ Corner

The Elder

A village sheltered from the world; isolated Survives, thrives, prospers Brothers and sisters alike

United by an ultimate power Wisdom

Bestowed from the highest of entities The Elder shepherded a lost people

Leading them upon a trail to light and illumination Only the mind of The Elder gave true ability

Cleansing his people gives life In return, cleansing his people seizes his own

The Elder sacrificed himself He whispers as the wind

Into the ears of those who are listening Softer than the softest resonance

But when truly heard Wisdom flows through the soul as a thunderous voice of empowerment

Nourishing Now folklore, The Elder is legend.

Those lost were truly found And inherited the fruits and bounty of the land.

Gabriel Pietrorazio ‘16

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Lovely Afternoon

I'm driving the Car

I'm Pressing the Gas

And We ain't got no seat belts

See that Brick Wall?

I'm gonna Crash!

And

You're coming With Me.

Latrell Powell ‘16

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There Will Come Brave Men

There will come brave men,

though there will be few.

They go where others won’t go,

and do what others won’t do.

We can sleep peaceably,

be free and laugh,

Because these men do violence

on our behalf.

Real heroes exist;

they walk among us every day.

They protect the free,

Because they are brave.

Kevin Brown ’18

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Bleuet

A day is spent picking blueberries to forget.

Where my hours bleed into the next, and my mind is content to be filled with white noise.

They slide out of my grasp,

the tiny berries that sated my famine and fed my obsession.

Faint purple stains my lips

and my fingers and my hands.

It reminds me of you.

It’s a tarnish that

I’ve tried to wash away, but water and soap seem cruel and unforgiving.

For now, I ignore it-

continuing to pluck the small spheres from their bushes.

I eat a few more, letting the sweet juices linger in my mouth-

But my mind eventually

drifts back to you, and the sweet turns bitter on my tongue.

Ryan Aghamohammadi ‘18

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The Necklace

He had to get rid of it. The interpol agents were around the corner. They would’ve caught him by now

if he hadn’t snuck into this bar. Usually Ryder is able to get in and get out undetected but this job was different, this was supposed to be his last. Ryder was going to give up the lifestyle he’s been living

since he was eleven, the life of a thief.

“Do you see him?” yelled the new, young female interpol agent, over the loud music into her radio.

Ryder had to think of a plan, and fast.

“Hey, what’s your name?” This girl at the bar couldn’t seem more desperate for attention.

And like that, a plan developed in Ryder’s brain. He quickly passed the desperate girl and began his search; he wasn’t going to give away the necklace to just any girl in the bar.

"He's definitely in here keep looking!" The Interpol agent yelled again, this time to the surrounding

agents.

There. over by the jukebox, the girl clearly not interested in the guy hitting on her, that was the girl. Ryder swiftly and quickly made his way over to her, not replying to three girls asking if he would like a

drink. He stood behind her, and whispered in her ear.

Angelene Guglielmo ‘19

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Poems

Seagulls’ Freedom

From ocean to ocean, Bringing life to every swaying motion.

Dipping down into the waves, searching for its next prey.

Soaring high over the sea. Watching, waiting for a chance to convene

With them, holding the privilege to roam free

From bold barriers. Dancing weightless in the sea breeze.

Making everything seem as if it were to freeze.

Freedom flows through their feathers, making each scattered flock squander.

Each squawk notioning pride, drifting through the ocean tide.

Their independence is a proclamation, helping forge separation.

The many gulls that sail through the air, making every energetic dive a dare.

As they arise towards the horizon, they meld their cries amongst crashes in unison.

Gliding through the clouds, their methodic calls herald their pride.

As they descend toward each crashing ripple, their pride never seems to cripple.

Stephen Palluotto ‘19

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Paperweights

Hi

I'm paper;

My only purpose in life

Is to get

YOU!

Read Me!

If You don't read me OR

If You stop reading me

YOU!

Kill My Purpose

YOU!

Kill Me! I'm

Dead


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Rabbit

Can you hide from eternity? WIll you face your fears?

Just tunnel deeper, burrow farther. Until it seems you were never there.

Just a wisp of lonely air. By the hill, tree roots swirl.

How long before concrete controls? Is that why you burrow? Is that why you hide?

Are you finding yourself somewhere inside? You are the wallflower. You are the shadow.

Your whispers never reach outside, And still you hide.

Just what’s out there? What scares you so?

Judgement, deceit, and loss of heartbeat. That’s what he tells me as I stare.

Now I wonder; just who is the rabbit here? Can I hide from eternity? WIll I face my fears? But inside I know,

I’m not just a wisp of lonely air.

Adrian Fox ‘16

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Insanity

And then a plank in reason, broke,

The blood-red sun sets over the horizon.

The crows sit on the tree and laugh-as the madman falls to his knees.

His shadow laughs, too.

He brings the madman to his feet and asks him-

“Why must you be so sad? You know you're Right.”

The crows echo, “You’re Right! You’re Right!”

“Right about what?” Innocence asks-

The dark figure replies, “Right about the Truth.”

“The Truth! The Truth!”

“What Truth?”

“The Truth of Mortality!”

And then the man laughed, too-

And then a Plank in Reason, broke.

Excerpt from 340: Emily Dickinson

Jared Cocomazzi ‘17

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The First Language: Peace

Peace is a language that everyone must learn.

Peace is not given but earned.

Peace is a human relation.

Peace is against any and all human discrimination.

Peace is a dialect to many.

Peace is a cheaper than a penny.

Peace between nations

Can save many generations.

Peace is love.

The symbol? Sign of a dove.

Peace is the first language to many.


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Groceries

As he stands in front of a football field of food, he wonders where to start. He flies across each aisle on his empty grey cart.

He looks at the list, searching for the first things to go. Brussel sprouts, celery, and asparagus, YUCK!

He screams from the top of his lungs; these are three of my unappealing foes! Next on the list is that leathery leaf,

If nasty vegetables were in an Indian tribe, he would be the chief. No pain, no gain.

Kale is horrid; it does much harm, Yet it clears all of the arteries in my arm.

Now he sees some satisfying treats, No it is not Rutabaga, Spinach or beets.

It is a combo of delicious meats. Steak, ham, bacon, roast beast,

All of which combined make a satisfying sandwich feast. The only issue is that he stands at the end of the line,

And with his ticket in hand stating the number, ninety- nine. Now on the list is one much better,

Cheese balls, Pirate’s Booty, and Cheetos all topped with extra cheddar. All of which piled mountain high, resembling thousands of stars in the night sky.

Next is lettuce a common disgust in everyone’s life. So he launches it back into the fridge to live his nasty vegetable life,

The man checks out all of these foods filled with trife. Now, the big problem? Explaining to his wife

why there won’t be any lettuce for the chef salad.


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Sitting Evergreens

Vicious smog

sharpest machete

Cut my mind open.

They're watching

Peaceful, forever.

Wrinkles BARKing Skins

Horror of people

Together, forever

Stares Whispers

Forever

I hang from

Their branches


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Refusal to Die

About my feet the sea Dangling Cut free

By sightless enemy.

About my wings the sky Soaring Let fly

By spirit still alive.

About my soul to roam Searching For home

By ghost of hope never lost Because hope will not die.

Though limb be lost Below the tides I refuse to Die

My spirit will survive.

Adrian Fox ‘16

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Waves and Words

A tsunami of words crash against the mind like waves on the seashore.

As the current persists, many words overflow the brain.

Waves of words cannot be fully soaked by the intellectual machine.

The power of a single word is motivational.

Waves of words are beyond influential.

Words handle more power over actions.

Words change the world.

Waves shape the world.

The world needs words.

Without waves words cannot be carried along.


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Radiant Rhyme

There will come winds and the touch of the snow,

And fires burning with their glorious glow,

And birds in the air crying at dawns,

And old sly dogs on overgrown lawns,

Poems will wail their radiant rhyme,

Humming their hymns at a dark bedtime,

And no ghost will speak of the fear, no ghost

Can cry, when the world lacks a host.

Milo DeRiu-Crowley ‘19

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Words on a Page

Words on a page

Dance within an imaginative mind.

Letters form words,

Words form music,

Music is words.

Words must be sung like music,

Joyful and proud.

Swaying in the breeze.

With endless motion

And timeless meaning.

A graceful journey.

A silent purpose.

A lost art.

Words on a page.


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Goose Squawk

Ryan Aghamohammadi ‘18: I could have fallen into the pond, but that’s a lie. I would never got that close to the pond. Personally, I believe that the geese are just slightly too hostile for me to approach them. Their position seems oddly similar to that of Cerberus in the Underworld. Now, I am not saying that the pond is a gateway to the afterlife, I mean it just could be. I guess it is just another lesson to not travel towards the uncharted territories of the pond. It's a double threat. Geese and the underworld.

Gabriel Pietrorazio ‘16: On our campus, we should have a geese waiting room

marked off or something. I mean there is a severe ethnic divide between the Mallard duck and Canada geese cliques. It is just out of hand. Seriously. Sometimes they have internal quarrels between members of their own species. Other times, and often the more likely result is when these creatures believe that it is their ultimate destiny to cause a mass extinction or genocidal war amongst all races that surround the pond. Whether it is the geese, ducks, humans, or even the newly debuted graceful swans, conflict is always brewing. It is a shame that peace cannot be attainable across all platforms. If only we could have One Goose; One World.

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Olivia Pettinicchi ‘18: The geese would continue doing their normal goose-like

things, but one day the atmosphere of the Chase Collegiate School community could change. The fire alarm could be pulled, causing all of the students to go outside. Slowly, the people would notice the geese are surrounding us. The largest, meanest, oldest goose would come up to the group.

“HONKI” The goose would exclaim as the geese move in closer. The ground would begin to tremble and open up to swallow the once standing

evacuees. Our lives would be forever changed, as we live under our goose overlords.

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Jakob Gati ‘18: Fly my brothers and sisters. It is our time to evade the injustices

forced upon us by our oppressors. Up into the sky we must flee this lonesome oasis, secluded amongst the highest of quality region Waterbury has to offer. But let us leave not in haste, but with dignity. We will rain fire, yes FIRE upon the these unweary and unsuspecting heretics. For it was told by our forefathers who once ventured a great distance upon a righteous pilgrimage in order to claim this single ovular pond and its constituents as ours! We will not let our feathers be plucked now or ever! Away we go!

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Short Stories

Never Any Less

Beth and Aaron were in third grade together; they attended Augustine Elementary School. The kids were both very competitive, but Aaron always told her that she was less of a person just because she was a girl. He attempted to destroy her confidence by yelling at her: "You run like a girl."

"But I am a girl," Beth thought to herself, confused by his comment. This demeaning behavior from Aaron continued. Everyday during recess, the boy

proceeded to laugh at her saying, "You throw like a girl," or " You even walk like a girl!"

One day Beth approached Aaron and explained to him, "You tell me I walk, talk, throw and run like a girl. But Aaron do you want to know a secret?"

"What?" Aaron questioned. " I am a girl. That doesn't make you better than I," Beth responded with anger. "Um... yes it does," said Aaron in a snotty tone. " Well, I'll bet you that I will beat you in a race. Right here. Tomorrow," she

responded confidently. " You're on. Hey, guys, this girl thinks she can out run me in a race!" Aaron yelled

to his friends. Beth walked away to plan with her group of friends. They decided to design the

race so that it was not only running, but also included the monkey bars and the climbing wall.

The next morning at recess Aaron met Beth at the slides, and she told him the

extent of the competition, concluding that the best two out of three wins. He seemed to be up to the challenge.

They began with the monkey bars, one at a time while the others timed it. Aaron

was in first place with a time of 8.2 seconds, but Beth was in a very close second with 8.9

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seconds. Aaron attempted to rub it in her face, but it didn't faze Beth; it just made her more determined.

The two competitors arrived at climbing wall; Beth came out on top with a time of

5.6 seconds. She took this win modestly in front of Aaron, whose time was a lowly 9.8. He seemed to be distraught by the fact that a girl beat him.

The two of them moved on to the final round of the competition, the race. Beth

and Aaron looked at each other with determination in their eyes. When their friends beamed, "Go!" the two kids seemed to have disappeared from

the start over the hill. Beth was ahead of Aaron by a good 50 feet, when he tripped and fell to the

ground. Beth stopped in her tracks and ran back to help Aaron. She ended up giving him her hand to help him up, but his only response was,

"Why are you helping me; don't you want to win?" "I believe that winning doesn't depend on whether you're a boy or if I'm a girl; it

depends on ability. We are both as strong as each other, so I'd rather be friends instead of competitors," Beth told him in a caring voice.

Aaron and Beth are now best friends, and from time to time, they have friendly

competitions. These competitions are now solely for fun. Aaron knows now that just because his best friend is a girl, it doesn't mean they are any different. They are equal.

Gelia Kenney ‘19

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The Juice

Dame drove to the paint, kicking the rock back out to Chris, as he drilled home the long range jumper. The score was 55 -56, Saint James up. Dame and Chris were playing for their public high school, Laney High School in Baltimore. They were down by one with only five seconds on the clock, when Ernie fouled, sending number thirty-eight from the team Saint James to the line. If he made both, the game would be over. First shot; the crowd was dead silent; all I could hear was the panting of the winded, tired players. The Saint James player went through his routine and nails it. Saint James up by three. Feeling confident, number thirty-eight of Saint James rushes his second shot and misses. Dame rebounds the ball and calls time out. Dame and his team have only 4.3 seconds to inbound the ball, throw up a shot and pray it went in.

Chris passed the ball to Dame, Dame couldn't hear anything; not the crowd counting down the time, not the players yelling, pushing and shoving, and not the ball bouncing on the hardwood. Four: he dribbled to the perimeter three; he made his step back move. Two: Dame shot the ball right over the Saint James defender. One: swish; that's all Dame heard, because that's the only sound that mattered to him. He won the game for Laney.

Chris was happy to win the game, but he was jealous that he was not the one to hit the buzzer beater. Dame and Chris have known each other for a long time, since Dame moved to Baltimore from Pittsburgh in the fifth grade. Dame had always been just a little bit better than Chris at basketball and at football. But he did not care about football, because Chris loved basketball more than anything. Chris did not let anyone know this, but he secretly despised Dame for his talent.

On the bus Chris congratulated Dame: “What a shot boy! You’re looking like a young KD in the playoffs, when he just banged down threes. You even hit the step back three like him.”

Dame said, “ Thanks, bro; you knocked a couple down, too.”

Chris and Dame were both ESPN ranked; both had scholarship offers, both played in games, such as the Sprite game and Jordan Risings Stars, and were invited to the McDonald's All-American game. Still, Chris was not satisfied.

He had read about performance enhancing drugs (PED’s) from the player's involvement in baseball, to typical kids using them. Now, one of his friends had them along with other kids on the team. Chris had not gone that far yet.

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The next day before practice, he saw kids taking the juice (PED’s). Brian offered some to Chris: “I got you if you want it”

Chris responded, “Nah, man. I'm good. ”

Many of great athletes from this area used the juice, and Chris knew that. But after practice that day he found Brain and said, “You know what, man? I will try some.”

Now, Chris risked everything that he worked so hard for, because he took this drug. He knew what he was doing; many kids had fallen victim to this drug. All of a sudden, Chris started to notice a change. Chris was much more athletic. He started to score more than Dame.

Then about one week before the most important game of his life, the All-American game he had to take a drug test. Chris was stressed that he might fail. He took the test, and within four days he received the result. Just like that it was as if he had fallen off a cliff; everything he had worked for was gone. No All American game; no more scholarships, no more rankings.

Now, instead of Chris attending Duke, he was going to the gas station for his 8-5 shift at 7 Eleven. Plus, his team and community hated him for cheating. Meanwhile, Dame played the All-American game, but he also played everyday at Kentucky, where he was on his way to a promising college career. Chris had learned not to cheat, because he lost his fame, friends and opportunities. If Chris could, he would go back and not take the juice, knowing he would have a bright future ahead of him.

Thomas Moran ‘18

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The Girl With Too Many Friends

Riley rushed down the long, narrow hall; her eyes glued to the floor. Her hope was to slide by the cruelest girl in school. Unfortunately, Zoey had other plans in mind.

"Riley, Riley, is that you?"

Riley desperately tried to squeeze through her seemingly endless posse, until a cold hand clenched her wrist and spun her around.

"Excuse me, I believe I was talking to you?" Zoey barked at Riley. "And where are your two little friends? I mean those are the only two that you

even hang around with, right?"

Riley stood there, not knowing what to say next. "Can you not talk without them either?" snapped Zoey. Her large posse erupted in laughter. Riley's rosy cheeks turned brighter than a

tomato as she quickly fled the scene.

On her way to find her two best friends, she couldn't stop thinking about what Zoey had said. Am I really that lonely? These thoughts quickly left her mind when Julie and Sydney, her two best friends, burst through the double doors of the study hall room.

"Riley, are you ok? We heard what happened," Julie and Sydney sympathetically cooed.

"Ya, I'm alright. I'll see you guys later. I have to go catch the bus," Riley answered. "Ok, well we are always here if you need us!" exclaimed Julie. "Ya, all the time!" Sydney chipped in.

Riley acknowledged the two with a quick smile and wave, but the Zoey's words lingered in her head throughout the rest of the day. Right before Riley went to bed she promised to expand her friendship group, so that, hopefully, she would have as many friends as Zoey one day.

Riley quickly grabbed her book bag and ran downstairs to eat her breakfast, her hazel eyes grew wide as she read the headline in the morning's paper that sat on the table.

FACTORY FIRE CAUSES LOCAL HOUSE TO BURN. She knew the house,the bright red shutters and door,;it was Zoey's. Although Riley

wasn't exactly fond of Zoey, she did feel bad.

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Zoey sat on the side of the curb, practically drowning in tears. She stared as the foggy smoke clouded around her burnt house. She had lost everything. Her house, her possessions, and the memories that were made with the house. Gone, completely gone, in a matter of minutes. She quickly swiped her phone from the bag of possessions she had left and sent out a group text to all of her friends. The text asked if they could come to her house and help rebuild. She received responses in minutes, but not what she expected. All of the responses were excuses. Not one friend could or would be coming to help her. Completely stunned and utterly lost, Zoey thought back to yesterday. Just before she left, she saw Riley's friends hugging her. Zoey knew deep down inside how lucky Riley was to have two friends who cared about her so much.

Suddenly, a loud honk disrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Riley, Julie, and Sydney with building supplies.

"We're so sorry about your house," Riley stated.

"Who else is coming to help?" questioned Julie. "Only you," Zoey confessed. "How did you even know about the fire?" Zoey pondered.

"Riley saw it in the paper, called us, and asked us to help, and of course we came," Sydney explained.

"Thank you so much for coming. It truly does mean a lot to me. For right now, you all can start breaking down the rest of the debris," whispered Zoey.

As the trio walked away, Zoey wished that she had friends as dedicated as Sydney and Julie. While she picked herself up from the curb, Zoey realized that maybe less is really more, and quality by far surpasses quantity.

Hailey Falcone ‘19

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Terry and Mary

It was almost the dinner rush hour at Mary’s Soup Bistro. I was in the pantry

gathering the ingredients that would create my signature soup, Mary’s marvelous Root Soup. I reached for the vegetables. First, add the carrots, then the turnips, and top it off with rutabagas. I nearly fainted once I had seen the vegetables that I had ordered. They were married in every way. The turnips were scratched terribly, the carrots were puny, and the rutabagas were downright horrid. I tried adding them into my soup and then tasted it. I quickly spat out the soup that I had then just tasted. It was almost as if I could taste the disgust within the soup. My gorge started to rise, so I immediately tossed the rest of the vegetables out of the kitchen window into the nearest alley way. I was walking to the best spot for dinner ingredients. As I walked down the dark alley way, I struck gold, a pile of vegetables just waiting to be tossed into a pot. I asked myself, what spoiled moron would waste these vegetables by throwing them in the trash, when they could be used to make a beautiful stew? I took them back to my home in the forest, unzipped the tent and crawled inside with my hands full of ingredients. I pulled out my knife and cut the vegetables with perfect precision, dropping them into the pot of boiling water and broth and let it simmer.

I was closing the Bistro when the sun started to retire from the horizon only to be

replaced by a full moon. I could see the beginning of Elliot Bay along with the impression of the moon across each ripple rushing through the water, as I headed home. I could see the silhouette of the Space Needle reaching into the sun’s span. Smoke started to wisp from my brand new Ford Fusion. There were no houses to be seen, after all, I was in the forest.

All of a sudden a shorter, wiser looking woman walked out from within the forest. She approached me and asked if I had car trouble. The woman offered to take a look, and I didn’t see the harm in it. After she took a look at the engine and fidgeted with parts, my car was fixed.

“My name is Terry, by the way,” she said very cordially, inviting me into her home for a bowl of stew.

I crawled into the tent and the smell of fresh vegetable stew filled my nose. As we were savoring the delicacy, Terry explained to me how someone had just thrown these vegetables into an alleyway. Luckily, I was there to snatch them up. I then realized that Terry had found the vegetables that I had thrown away! Surprisingly, the soup was even better than my own recipe. I was quick to comment on the exquisite flavors of this stew. After talking for another hour or so, we said our goodbyes to each other.

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On the ride home, I realized something new about people: everything and everyone has some value to someone else. Therefore, I made a pact with myself to never waste ingredients in the kitchen and to always see the true value in everything.

Later in the year, Mary and Terry’s Soup Bistro was full of customers each and every day. Terry and I are not only business partners, but friends. Terry moved out of her tent and used the money from the restaurant to purchase a house. Our signature soup, OUR Lavish Lobster Bisque, is well-known across Washington. Our Bistro is one of the best places to warm-up in on a cold winter’s day. We are said to be the best in all of the rainy city and the most cordial owners of any place on all of the West Coast. When we are in the kitchen, we work like a fast moving machine and never waste any ingredients. Our motto is, “If you can eat it, then you could cook it.”

We often enjoy telling our children the story of how we met. I suspect they enjoy it, too.


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Release The Framton

I couldn't believe how cold it can get in the countryside. The wind was howling

through the pine trees like a pack of wolves howling at the moon. The beautiful red, yellow, and orange leaves were swirling in the sky above me and hitting me in the face. The only problem now is that I don't have any form of transportation to get back to the city, since I came here on the bus. Then there’s the other option, go back to the Sappleton’s house, but there was no way I was going back there; I would rather die out here in the cold then go back to that insane family’s house. I needed to find a solution.

I was trapped in the countryside. I couldn’t think, because my anxiety was rising. I didn’t know what to do, so I just decided to wait it out. I sat on the edge of the road to calm down and clear my brain from what I had just witnessed at the Sappleton’s house.

“How can a man come back to life after being dead for three years?” I thought. “So

much for meeting new people.” Maybe I was just hallucinating and didn’t really see the three men. That’s not

possible though, since I even heard the man whistling, “Bertie Be Bound.” I had questions, but they will never be answered, since I’m not going back to that crazy place.

I heard horses in the distance. Perhaps they were coming for me? I doubt it. The sound of the horses clomping hooves faded away. My hopes drained out of my body. IF I attempted to walk back to the city now, I would probably die. In addition it was over fifty miles away, it would take days to get back to Manchester. By then, either hypothermia, thirst or hunger would kill me. I would have to be very lucky if a chariot would pass by and take me to Manchester .

It was dark now. I was very thirsty, and my mouth felt like a desert. Water would be the greatest gift to me right now. While I was walking, I saw a bench in the distance and I made the decision that this is where I would spend the night. I paused at the bench when I saw a note on that read:

Dear Mr. Nuttel,

I see that you are in need of help, come find me in the woods across from this bench. I have food, water, and a chariot to take you to your destination.

~Sincerely,

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Collin’s Horse Chariot Rentals inc.

It seemed to me almost like an angel came and slapped me in the face. I

immediately ran for the woods. There was a lantern in the distance, and I thought this person might be making some food for me. Before I could finish this thought, the ground threw me up into the air and trapped me in a net. I saw a women in the distance, sitting next to the fire. She stood up from her chair and approached me slowly. Not until this woman was inches from my face did I understand who it was: Mrs. Sappleton. I hid my face and started crying. She cut down the rope and helped me up. I couldn’t stand this. So I passed out.

I woke up the next morning, this time not in the wilderness, but in a soft and fluffy bed. Mrs. Sappleton stood over me and asked, “Are you okay Mr. Nuttel? You passed out last night. Vera told me the true reason you ran, and I have disciplined her properly. I’m sorry about everything.”

Stefanos Bilis ‘19

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Buffalo Dreams I just always remember the buffalo, roaming and grazing as far as the eye can see

upon vibrant rich pastures. Mountain peaks pierce the azure sky and cotton clouds. A picturesque marvel to witness; however, in order to reach this moment of pure beauty, sacrifices had transpired.

Fourteen; the youngest in the trek crew. A boy, only recently receiving the First class rank in order to even qualify for attending the high adventure program. I was out of place; a small, scrawny looking figure with a bowl cut mop on top of a childish face and boney shoulder structure. Preparation compelled us to complete the entire Appalachian Trail section of CT and most of the NY and MA sections. It was challenging and initially I doubted my abilities. As the days drew nearer to our departure, I worried about my performance and the challenges ahead.

Cimarron, New Mexico; a full day of backpacking; 15 miles of nothing more than rustic dirt trails and service roads. “They’re just cows lying down”, I never believed that the fate of my crew rested on such an insignificant event. One by one, each and every cow in the herd falls to its knees on the grassy patched crevice of a crater inside the fertile valley. At that instance, like the roars of prideful lions, thunder echoes throughout the narrow valley. Water drizzles upon my filthy face as a flash flood began its toll. On our sore shoulders, bulky backpacks containing the necessities for survival. Only a mile ahead of the impending storm and dark clouds, our trek crew traveled with haste and no end in sight; the only motivation was the faint shape of a backpack that we barely saw in front of each other and the person behind urging you to keep lifting your muddy booted feet at a steady pace. The rain pelted upon our wide brimmed polyester hats and backpacks, creating harsh splatting sounds. The showering droplets traveled so fast that on impact, they turned into mist. This only complicated things as the distant mist thickened like fog, notably reducing our visibility.

The terrain; hazardous as I hiked along with my soaking wet mud filled boots sliding underneath my very own feet. One by one each one of the backpackers slipped on the greasy sand. I, too, fell. With all of my weight and the weight of the backpack, I came crashing down like an anvil. Laying in liquid filth, my olive green shorts stained with soft loam, my hands coated in wet grime, my legs scraped from jagged rocks, my blistered feet; my spirits crushed. But even in the face of danger, we hiked. Not because we wanted to, but because we had to; instinctively. As sudden as the flash flood occurred, it concluded with blue skies opening where grey clouds once thrived. A swampy grassland lays over the incline. On the other side of the ranch nestles our campsite. The area; crammed with buffalo and beasts alike. Menacing horns and sharp hooves raced through

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my mind. Crossing the ranch felt endless. The images of the beasts danced vividly as the herd surrounded us. In a split second, we stepped too close to a calf causing the mother and the rest of the herd to chase after us with deadly intention. Dashing toward a weathered wooden fence, we hopped over the barrier as our worries dissipated.

In life, we have choices. When an impending storm pressures us, we can become the cow that falls instantaneously in numbers, or we can become the lone bison striding across prairies, grazing upon the bountiful soil trotting with grace, trotting with purpose. I embrace the path of my inner buffalo for the odds have always not been in my favor. I will use my muscles. I will use my fur. I will use my horns. I am ready.


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Friendly Friends

In Springfield Illinois, two best friends, George and Elizabeth, are in the sixth grade class in Lucifer’s Elementary School. George is a wide-eyed kid with golden brown hair, and a cheerful look about him that included a promising smile. His best friend Elizabeth, has stunning blue eyes and pin straight platinum blonde hair.

One Friday afternoon George was chatting with Mark and Mary before the last bell rang of the day. After going to his locker Elizabeth approaches him,

“Hey, what's up?” Elizabeth called out to George. “Packing up; I’m exhausted!” he mumbled. “Well, I wanted to see that new movie that comes out tomorrow, want to go?” she

asked enthusiastically. Elizabeth already had doubts as George was hesitant to respond. As he glanced toward his other friends, he replied, “Sorry, I have a doctor's

appointment, maybe next week. Besides, it will be to hard to get tickets tomorrow on opening night.” George smiled apologetically.

The next day Elizabeth stayed home and played with her younger brother, while unknowingly George was hosting friends.

Monday morning approached, and Elizabeth could hear chatter about the party that had taken place on the weekend. While the bees were buzzing, Elizabeth grew impatient because she could not find George.

“George!” Elizabeth frantically called. “Yah? What’s up?” replied George while shaking. “Why?”she mumbled. “Why wha-”

“You went behind my back and had a party, Why?” she whispered infuriatingly, trying not to cause a scene.

“I-I don’t know. I mean it wasn’t a big party, I just get nervous around you sometimes, and I didn’t want you to see my lame party,” George uttered regretfully.

Elizabeth’s thoughts spiraled in her head, hypothesizing about the next words to be spoken.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly uttered after two seconds of awkward silence. She could tell by his facial expression that he was sincere.

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Elizabeth turned around and walked down the hallway filled with other classmates, feeling an internal sadness that she had lost one of her best friends; yet anxious to fix the friendship as soon as possible.

Mia Tougas ‘19

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Little Mr. Goodboy

Joe never wanted to switch schools, but after his father accepted a job at a state of the art laboratory and Joe had been expelled from his previous school for tampering with the security cameras, Joe and his family decided to move. Billy was a small town boy who had lived in the same house and had attended the same school, with the same friends for his entire life.

On September 8, school commenced. Billy woke up extra early, grabbed his favorite pair of khaki pants, a blue button down shirt, a salmon-colored bow tie, and slicked his hair back with a comb and some gel. He arrived at school to greet all the new students, since he was the president of the welcoming committee. He watched a boy with hazel brown hair that looked like it needed to be cut, trudging along wearing an orange and black AC-DC shirt and blue jeans with a chain hanging from the pocket. Billy could tell by this boy's nervous shuffle that he was new to school.

Billy approached the boy and uttered, "Hi, you must be new; I'm Billy." "I'm Joe; you're right. I am new. I just moved here from Oregon," replied Joe. Billy walked Joe to his locker then directed him to his first class. The boys met up

again when Billy saw Joe eating lunch alone. The two boys talked over their ham and cheese sandwiches and chocolate milk, and noticed how similar they were. After that the boys would hang out regularly after school.

Gradually, Billy noticed that Joe began to create excuses to avoid seeing him, and

soon, Billy and Joe were barely even talking. One day, when Billy walked into school, everyone’s eyes were following him. Little

did he know that Joe had hacked his phone and impersonated him by talking badly about kids from school. Billy realized that Joe had just been using him to climb the popularity tower, and he never cared about Billy. Each time Joe made an excuse to avoid hanging out with Billy, he had been working on his scheme.

After things settled down, Joe approached Billy. “Go away, Joe; you’ve done enough damage,” murmured Billy.

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“Listen, what I did was wrong, I just wanted some friends, and I thought that was a way to attract some people… it was a mindless decision and I’m really sorry. If there’s anything I can do, just come and talk to me,” mumbled Joe.

This sparked a smile on Billy’s face. “Wow, Joe, that sounded really sincere; maybe I can help put that talent to use.”

responded Billy. Billy then concocted a master plan to start a business with Joe, where they could

create websites, apps, and electronics, such as cameras and headphones to sell online and in school. Joe loved Billy’s idea, and the boys started working immediately. The boys rebuilt their friendship and found an effective use for Joe’s technological talents.

Meris Rosenberg ‘19

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E'uta Purano Manisa (The Old Man)

"Wake up; we found it!" shouted Alina. "Come on; you're so lazy." "I'm sorry. I'm tired," I replied. "Milan, I swear!" she yelled, "Aakash is waiting!" "Alright I'm getting up," I groaned. Alina was always on my case. Her parents were close with mine, and I had spent a

considerable amount of time with her, so I adapted to her atrocious personality. Some of my best memories were with her. Alina had light tan skin, long brown hair and wasn't very tall but made up for it with her attitude. As for our Sherpa, Aakash was tall with dark hair, brown skin, and had a very vibrant personality; he was always smiling and very enthusiastic.

We were trekking across the Himalayas in search of a monastery. Our village was affected by an unknown illness after bandits raided it. A strange man told us of a monastery concealed in the snow; inside lived a man who would help us. We were young, novice climbers except for Aakash. It was as if he and the mountains shared a bond.

Aakash was only fifteen, and Alina and I were only twelve. We knew we were too young; the thought of us succeeding was only a thought not a reality, and during the two months that we have been on this journey, I've kept my doubts; so has Alina and even Aakash.

"Aakash, wait!" Alina screamed. "I won't leave you two; calm down, Alina," Akash replied. "We are too young for this," Alina screamed furiously. Don't say that," I said sternly. The monastery was built inside a large cave, known as Saitanako Mukha, The

Devil's Mouth. The structure was snow white and dark blue with abstract designs on the front. Two twin pillars supported the roof from the base, and a colossal door stood right in the middle, but the monastery seemed rather dull, due to the fact it lacked windows. As we walked closer, we felt a strong wind, which meant a blizzard was approaching. Even our fur coats wouldn't keep us warm.

We opened the door and entered the monastery; everything was quiet. Our faces

were still bright red and numb from being in the cold for so long. The inside of the monastery was just as cold. We looked around at the monastery's staggering beauty,

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bright orange lights, marble floors, and many astonishing wall designs, flowers, and vases, but as we took in the beauty, we heard pained voices coming from our left.

" Where are the voices coming from? I will look," whispered Aakash. "No, I'll do it. I'm smaller, and I can move silently," I said confidently. "Okay. Alina and I will check upstairs," Akash replied. I walked into a room on the left and saw an open door’ steps led to the basement;

candles were lit on each side. I walked through a hall and entered a little room where a man was praying.

"You're here to help me?" he groaned. "You look too young."

"I know," I mumbled. "I sense a blizzard. We must hurry," he said calmly.

The old man was as thin and weak as a twig. He was short and had long white hair

and wore a grimace on his face. I called Aakash and Alina, but as we stepped outside, the wind roared and blew violently. We descended the mountain as quickly as possible, but we weren't fast enough. The blizzard was strong, and it grew too cold for us. My face became numb, and I could barely see Alina and Akash.

When the blizzard cleared, the old man was still with me, and as I looked behind , I

saw Alina and Akash. Age doesn't matter; it never did. All the doubt I might've had was gone. It was as if I had accepted this journey, knowing that I would succeed. We looked at the village over the edge of the mountain. There were singed houses, bodies that had succumbed to the plague. Then I saw something else, hope. Our village would take time to heal, but at least we have a chance.

Taimur Darr ‘19

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Speech Excerpts

My Vision for America

United we stand, divided we fall. No more my fellow Americans. In my land of the

free and home of the brave we must all fall in line, shoulder to shoulder, civilians and servicemen alike. Fighting for our inalienable rights. Whether we are in the heat of a skirmish on a battlefield or in a school system we fight for what is right, true, and pure. An America where “We the People” lead by example in order to preserve and uphold our freedoms, liberties, and aspirations. An America where in every school, public, secondary, provochial, or not; rises each and every morning to proclaim the Pledge of Allegiance with prowess and respect. An America where we do act upon our civil issues and disputes without the fears of discrimination, and make the change. An America where we are proud to be Americans for who we are and for our moral task to bear. An unwritten responsibility of being a leader. But we are not alone. For it is our human obligation to help. It is inevitable, for we are to aid the misfortunate and needy. An America where selfless acts of kindness prevail unwaveringly. An America where the needs of the greater community precedes selfish personal endeavors and profitable affairs. In the face of adversity, we do not falter. In the face of diversity, we do not discriminate, but welcome all with extending open arms. An unjudging melting pot full of ingredients of all heritages, nationalities, and creeds. I visualize an America where Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream is truly realized in its entirety. Standing ear to ear, shoulder to shoulder, blacks and whites the same in every possible manner. I believe in an America where there are no stereotypes or false judgments upon any human, based upon their appearance or ethnicity.

In nation of swarming youth, as a generation, we tend not to exercise our

tolerance and proper etiquette for we must respect our elders steadfastly without hesitation. Commit our cause to theirs, for they possess impermeable wisdom and guidance. In order to maintain the values of our nation, we must follow in the footsteps of our elders.

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While, although exercising our rights to utilize these liberties and freedoms seem

free to us, the process of obtaining such sovereignty is attained at an ultimate cost. I envision an America where it is our utmost priority to immortalize our distinguished honored veterans. It is our civil duty to remember, congratulate, commend, and acknowledge the men and women, especially those who did not make it home, for their obedient service to our nation. Just boys and girls, who gave their lives and freedoms to insure our own. Let their ultimate sacrifices be not in vain, but in the pursuit of maintaining and preserving the founding principles of this country: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

I foresee an America where veterans come home after serving to an actual place to call home. A home where our veterans will never be forgotten. An America where no veteran goes hungry or is homeless. We could erect monuments, memorials, and cemeteries but that does not even matter. Medals, honors and awards, all of materialistic nature are worthless to a veteran. Extending a simple yet firm handshake, staring into the eyes of a true hero while uttering thank you is the humblest way of offering our enduring gratitude. As a nation we must not be split on the treatment of our servicemen, but rather stand united in comradery in recognition of their heroic acts. Let us be bound together in order to protect those who have undoubtedly protected us from both domestic and foreign threats. I believe in an America where soldiers of all origins are immortalized in society by their fellow peers with distinguished honors and adoration as the true heroes of this great nation. We the People, must act like a bow and string, made of strong oak; firm, yet willing to bend and be tested by the hardships of this nation time and time again. The government, like string and the people, form the bow. Bounded together, only stronger under trials and tension.

I envision an America where the votes of the people sincerely matter. I believe an America where registered voters are enlightened through government sanctioned educational programs so that voters can have a well-informed vote. I wish for an America where politics is restructured and run by public servants who have jobs and realize the impact of their law making and passing. I dream of one day where our government undoubtedly listens and advocates to the voices and needs of the people. I hope for an America where one day, party quarrels could be settled and hatchets buried as we unitedly look beyond this era propelling ourselves forward, in an effort to uphold the promises endowed by our government of the possibility of a future, security, and growth within the United States of America.

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Even in a dream I cannot promise that our nation will be the purest or most perfect for reality is inevitable, but I can promise one constant… change. Change is necessary from within the fire of molding to forge the rebirth of a nation under pressures of the harsh struggles of war, economic setbacks, social differences and racism. Change is inevitable, and as Americans we tend not to embrace any form of action. But I say, let us move forward. Move forward to capture a higher goal of a new vision for America; my vision and as long as I live, stand, breathe and imagine, my vision for America will never perish from the face of this earth.

Gabriel Pietrorazio ’16

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Ethics and Global Issues

Fighting for things has been a recurring of my life. Everywhere I go and everything

I do is shaped by the warrior mindset I have. I say warrior, not survivor mindset, because it's important to know that warriors live to fight, whereas survivors fight to live. My parents think this is unhealthy. The stress will pile on or that looking for fights will result in a fist fight with a grizzly bear or some other animal I must assert my dominance toward. I honestly disagree with this thought. I enjoy fighting for things, because it gives me a sense of accomplishment… Ever since my depression, I have had this fire in my gut, a burning, a drive, to go back to my dark place where bad things live and fight.

Kevin Brown ‘18

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Carbon Copy

Likewise, it was the first day of school. I walked into Advisory and nervously looked around. What I saw was almost a carbon copy of myself, which scared me to be quite honest with you. Again, preconceived notions clouded my head, like, “Are they just like me? What do they like?”

All I could do was throw out these questions and talk. And, just as last time, one of my greatest friendships to date was born. And thanks to these quiet judgments being thrown out the window, I found where I belonged in a school where I knew nobody else in my class. So it is, This I Believe: that no matter what you think of someone when you first look at them, no matter what anyone tells you about them, no matter the circumstances, give yourself a chance to meet someone new. It’ll make your life a much happier place.

Richard Atkins ‘18

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Inaugural Address

Mr. President, Mr. Vice President, Mr. Chief Justice, my friends. On this day, a day of

history, a day of opportunity and a day of privilege, I pledge myself to you, the American people. For you are the stronghold of this nation, and your hands are the very hands that weave together the intricate threads of democracy, individuality and liberty that make up the sturdy blanket that all Americans can wear proudly around themselves, in the darkest and coldest of times.

To you, my fellow Americans, let it be known, that this Administration, is the people's

Administration. Just like you, I will wake up in the morning with the firm intent of being a protector and a provider, and just like you, I will go to bed every night with the recurring realization that our country is not whole but knowing that our determination and hard work, the same hard work that legalized gay marriage, that stood up against the terrors of 9/11 and that brought a man to the moon, will strengthen our country and restore it.

Today is a celebrated day, but let us remember that we must never be blind to the

sufferings of others. Our United States is unrecognizable compared to the years of my predecessors, plagued by poverty, terror and disunity; our world is an unrecognizable world.

We live in a society where innocent people are attacked and tortured for propaganda

and show. A society where an entire country falls victim to horrendous violence caused by shameful enemies of this world. Let it be heard around the world that the United States will not stand for these inexcusable and unforgivable acts of terror. Together, we stand strong, and for those who wish harm upon the United States and our allies, we pledge our complete devotion to the eradication of your anarchical principles.

It has been told that during the War for Independence in our very nation, Colonel

William Prescott gave the order to his men during the battle at Bunker Hill, “Don’t fire until you see the white’s of their eyes.”

Well, the world has seen the white’s of the enemies eyes, and we must continue to fight

this battle, or the independence and sovereignty of our nation and this entire world will be stripped away from us. This is not a situation for the next administration to face; this is not a situation for strictly Europe to face. Rather this is a situation for the world to face as one, to come together and preserve and defend the influential morals which uphold our nation and rightly allow us to advance and progress into the future.

There is no doubt that difficult times lie ahead. As we continue on our uncharted voyage

into the future, we must never forget that destruction, disorder and despair still litter American soil and threaten American lives. So much so that we have been unintentionally thrust into the rudimentary principles of the past. A past where the color of someone's skin determined who they were and what they would become. A past where gender and color were branded as the

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factors of inequality. A past where these United States became simply “these states” because our nation was anything but united.

And so I ask you, my fellow Americans, why today, in this age of technology and

machinery, are women still not being paid equally to men? Why today, in this age of scientific knowledge and mystifying philosophy, are blacks

still being denied unalienable rights given to them in the eyes of God? And why today, in this age of innovation and change, a father cannot properly feed his

children, because he is only being paid 7 dollars and 25 cents an hour under federal law? We will never reach the perplexing wonderments of the future if we continue to be fastened to the past.

Yes, there will be difficult times ahead, but now, as I look out upon this crowd I also see

the opportunity of America. I see the doctors and the caregivers, I see the construction workers and the school bus drivers, I see the hardworking men and women who balance getting an education with a full time job and kids and this gives me hope that we, as Americans will rise above these difficult times into a thriving future of knowledge. You are the guardians of our great nation, the generation that will enable us to flourish in times of drought and uphold the morals and principles that our forefathers fought so hard to achieve.

Our future is a future that is just beyond the reaches of our fingertips. We can either

brush the tip of it, barely reaching it, or we can extend our arms and take hold of it in a strong and inescapable grasp.

The time for solidarity is upon us. Whether it is a union of the United States or the

world, the future will bring about advancement and amelioration. But if we allow the relentless principles of the past to threaten and conquer us, then the bridge we are crossing into the future will crumble below us and we will tumble down into a state of anarchy that will suffocate our minds and our hearts until evil has won out against the steady fight we have battled since the beginning of time.

So in the coming years of this Administration, we must beat on, we must continue to

fight;we must sacrifice to uphold the greatest nation on earth.

Jessica Cocomazzi ‘17

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Life Experiences

I've had friendships with some of the most amazing people, but if I thought about what I was doing when I made that initial interaction, those friendships never would have happened. Sometimes, venting about all your problems to some kid you vaguely know the name of is the best decision you could have ever made, because if it weren’t for that interaction, you probably would have never experienced that amazing friendship. Sometimes, just commenting on someone's post makes you think, “I did that; we have a shared experience” and will lead to meeting one of the most influential people of your gross middle school years.

Olivia Penenittchi ‘18

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Hand in Hand

Simply for the reason that you are who you are, whoever that you may be.

Whatever or whoever that affects the lives and experiences of those beings that go hand in hand with your own. Whether it affects those people in negative or positive ways depends on who you are.

Just be.

Samantha Austin ‘18

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Ghosts are Illusive

Once, I was on the top floor of a building. It was quiet, empty, and not a single window was open. The air outside was still and calm. I had heard stories of it being haunted and jokingly, I said something to “invoke” the spirit. When I did, a few doors rattled. Ghosts. They’re present in every culture; they even exist here, as the ghost of St. Margaret's Hall.

Not a complete and utter devotion, but more in a sense as yes, maybe they could be real and no, I’m not going to go after someone if they believe. It’s more a sense of awareness, that there’s not really a lot of evidence that the supernatural does exist, but more that I don’t want to undermine a belief that someone has that might give them comfort.

Ryan Aghamohammadi ‘18

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Foreign Features

Pedro el conquistador de las Aztecas

Pedro no esta muy importante porque Hernán Cortés fue el jefe de la expedición. Pedro es cien por ciento español y Pedro trabaja en el nombre del Rey de españa. A Pedro no le gusta Hablar con las indígenas y Pedro es un cobarde.

Normalmente Pedro lleva armadura que cubre el cuerpo que protege a Pedro de las indígenas. Pedro también tiene una biblia y le Gusta enseñar las indígenas de dios. Pedro tiene una espada de acero por la conquistada y un caballo que se llama Nelson Gonzalez. Nelson González es un bueno caball0. Pedro tiene una hermana y una madre que están en españa. La familia de Pedro está en españa porque pedro es el hombre de la familia y necesita buscar dinero para la familia. la madre y la hermana de pedro trabajan en una granja para obtener comida y dinero. La familia de pedro también es Españolas pero no tiene mucho dinero y es pobre. El padre de Pedro está muerto porque él tenía gripe. Pedro no tiene una casa en el nuevo mundo. Pedro a veces duerme en el barco y a veces duerme en el piso porque el grupo de los conquistadores viaja mucho. Pedro quiere obtener mucho oro para la familia. Pedro trabaja mucho pero nadie ve cuánto pedro trabaja porque Pedro es un cobarde.

David Milos ‘17

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Haiku Italian-Style

Frigento bello,

Posto della famiglia-- Il mio cuore.

Mary Donnarumma Sharnick

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El Plan de Hugo Sanchez

Hugo Sánchez se nació en 1490 en Tenochtitlan, un ciudad estado del imperio aztecas. Su padres murieron cuando él fue un bebé y fue criado por su hermano de mayor, Esteban. Creciendo, Hugo era un chico tranquilo. Él tenía miedo hablar a las personas, y, no tenía amigos. Su hermano fue su único amigo. Esteban amaba su hermano mucho.

Hugo tenía dos trabajos: trabajaba con Esteban cultivando en una

granja y vendiendo los cultivos en Tenochtitlan en los fin es de semanas. un día, durante la conquista de Hernán Cortés del imperio Aztecas, Hugo y Esteban estaban vendiendo su cultivos cuando un chico de la armada de Hernán Cortés mato Esteban porque el chico pensaba que Esteban estaba robando su mercancía.

Hugo estaba enfado y pensaba en un plan matar Hernán Cortés en venganza. Por primera vez, Hugo hablaba con cualquiera que escucho y anunciaba su plan. Como los días pasaron, el plan de hizo se convirtió claro y más personas unieron su grupo de rebeldes. Pero, en el dia que el plan entraba en acción, muchos rebeldes se enfermaron. Muchas personas se murieron y Hugo perdió su oportunidad para matar Cortes en los pasos de una pirámide en Tenochtitlan. Hugo se convirtió pronto, y él murió por una enfermedad se ques llama viruela- una enfermedad que era nueva en las Américas.

Muchas personas que sobrevivieron viruela intentaron llevar el plan de

Hugo, pero ellos no tuvieron éxito.

Timothy healy ‘16

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A Venezuela

Solo quedan las abuelas Solo hay cuartos vacíos

Los columpios ya no chirrean Mecidos con los pies de los niños Familias regadas por el mundo

Añorando el sol con que crecieron Solo queda el color del cielo

Y las guacamayas que vuelan por los aires La ciudad del sol eterno

El país de las mujeres bellas Las playas más hermosas

Todo oscuro, todos muertos, todos presos La desidia de la igualdad

Igualdad de crimen, Igualdad de colas,

Igualdad de hambre. El país más bello, es ahora igualmente miserable.

Señora Croes

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La Leyenda Del Salvador Saltillo

Bernando González nació en Saltillo, México en mil quinientos cincuenta y siete. Saltillo estaba en el desierto de Chihuahuan. Mi madre se llamaba Margarita era negra y mi padre se llamaba Luis era blanco. Luis conoció a Margarita en una subasta de esclavos. Luis compró a Margarita por poco dinero y se fugaron en secreto para dar a luz.

Bernando su hijo, era un Mestizo. Bernando era un carpintero y

herrero. Él aprendió las prácticas de un artesano de un niño. A la edad de dieciséis, el pueblo fue saqueado por coyotes y jabalíes. Luis su papa fue a luchar y fue mutilado hasta la muerte. Bernando tomó su posición en la caza de jabalíes. Bernando regresó victorioso como un ex soldado con su fiel caballo de batalla Eduardo. Este caballo era para transporte de sus mercancías.

Durante su ausencia Margarita murió de disentería. Con sus habilidades

de revestimiento que construyó dos ataúdes para sus padres y los enterró. El utilizó el yunque y la mesa de carpintero en su herrería cuando él forjó espadas y canoas para ayudar a los esclavos a la libertad a través de los ríos. Bernando murió en mil seiscientos diez cuando se contagió el tétano.

Gabriel Pietrorazio ’16

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Senior Voices Ambreen Raza ‘16: Although I am not the same person now as I was last

year, I still live by the idea that my home is always going to be changing.

Maybe by the end of this year, I'll be out in California or maybe I'll still be in

Connecticut for college. But for right now, there's nowhere I'd rather be

than at Chase. Home is where the heart is. I can accurately say my home is

here, and my heart is with all of you.

Timothy Healey ‘16: I know there are kids out there dealing with the same

issues I do. It's a common situation that occurs in everyone. I don't expect

myself to be an advocate for this problem; however, I will say I've dealt

with this so much that I know what it feels like. I know what it feels like to

reach the lowest points, but I know what it feels like to reach the top as

well. Support is all around you, and everyone has an escape. It could be

music. It could reading. It could be art. There are people like me fighting,

some may even be in this very room. To them I say, it gets better. There's a

little crack of light as you travel through the darkness. So keep reaching for

it, and soon or later, you'll find your happiness.

Maggie Atkins ‘16: I walk through these halls, and I feel so overwhelmingly

blessed to be able to attend a school where I do know the name of every

student and faculty member, and I am comfortable enough to approach

and talk with anyone. However, sometimes I walk through these halls and

realize that there are many, even some friends, that I wonder about. Who

are they, really? I challenge all of you to ask yourselves who you are, and

how you portray yourselves to others. Ask yourselves, if our school were

bigger, would you still have the same friends? I challenge you to be

yourselves unapologetically and cherish those who love you for being that

person. It’s sort of funny how startling it can be to think about strangers;

they can be all around you, and you’d never even know it.

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Jason Knies ‘16: I know that to be really, wholly, and truly appreciative of

something or someone, you must be able to recognize the full

implications. But you must also recognize full worth, and be grateful for

that worth, even if you don't completely understand it. Although I think

this way of being is achieved by few, it remains an admirable goal for me,

and I hope at least some of you agree. So when you find yourself unable to

understand why things aren't fair, or why things are the way they are, just

remember. It's okay. You don't have to.

Lauren McDonald ‘16: Not only have I made close friends individually in my

grade, but with the requirement of two sports minimum, I decided that

Cross Country was worth a shot. After my first year of suffering, it

gradually became apparent that this was no ordinary team. We had

become a family. When I think of our team, countless memories run

through my mind, and I become overwhelmed by the idea that soon I will

no longer be able to share these memories with you. Tomorrow, I will run

my very last race. As exhilarating as that sounds, I'm partially sad. Sad that

I have to say goodbye to a team that has the capability to effortlessly

change my mood after a long, stressful day. I'm going to miss story time,

of course, those Holy Cross workouts, but more importantly, our chant.

This strange and meaningless cheer has contrived a feeling of unity within

our team that is irreplaceable.

Gabriel Pietrorazio ‘16: Now you may be wondering as to why I preached upon a topic that has no impact upon any of you. We are not masses of scouters. But in reality, we are all “scouts” and "scouters" whether we have uniforms, sashes, badges, medals or not. Those who are among us wearing a uniform marked with honors and badges and those without are all scouters the same. In our privileged society we only worry about what is happening now to ourselves. Lend a hand. Share a smile. Make a friend. Kindle your ideals and fuel the fire till thou cease breath. 13 years, 678

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weeks, 4745 days, 284,700 minutes, 17,082,000 seconds and counting is how long I have been a scouter of all forms starting as a Cub Scout, partaking in my crossover into Boy Scouts, and finally once I have reached the summit in order to obtain my Eagle rank. How long has it been or will be for you? Originating from the remarkable mind of Lord Baden Powell, the founder of Boy Scouts, I leave you with this insight “We never fail when we try to do our duty, we always fail when we neglect to do it. Leave this world a little better than you found it. Latrell Powell ‘16: I will give until I'm a corpse in a coma. Ashes in a spiraling inferno. Ashes in the ground to grow flowers anew. Life anew, hope anew, faith anew. I will give as ash itself and laugh with the flowers and sing with the bees and nestle with the trees, as it all speaks to me. Free, free to be. I will burn forever to protect that. That freedom. Though I will stand with nothing. Though I will fight with nothing and speak of nothing. I have nothing to fear. Nothing to stop me. Nothing left to lose. Nothing left to tear me down. My strength explodes from nothing. I am nothing forever and eternity in this garden. Hear me vocalized. I am nothing and I know. I was born to live. That is true and I know. Life is Freedom. Life is nothing without freedom.

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chase collegiate school 2016 litmag

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