Scholastic Writing Awards
By: Ms. Jackson
“Each year…
the Alliance partners with more than 100 visual arts and literary arts organizations across the country to bring the Scholastic Awards to local communities. Teens in grades 7–12 (ages 13 and up) apply in 29 categories of art and writing. In 2019, students submitted nearly 340,000 works of art and writing to the Scholastic Awards.
Submissions are juried by luminaries in the visual and literary arts, some of whom are past award recipients. Panelists look for works that best exemplify originality, technical skill, and the emergence of a personal voice or vision.
Students receiving Gold Keys, Silver Keys, Honorable Mentions, or American Voices & Visions Nominations are celebrated within their communities through local exhibitions and ceremonies. Gold Key works are then judged nationally by an impressive panel of creative–industry experts to receive National Medals, including Gold Medals, Silver Medals, American Voices & Visions Medals, Gold Medal and Silver with Distinction Portfolio Medals, and Special Achievement Awards. National Medalists are recognized in part at the National Ceremony at Carnegie Hall in New York City.” https://www.artandwriting.org/
Beauty is the Meaning of Life (Untitled; Untitled; She is Gold)
RIYA KUMAR
Untitled (Beauty has broke my heart)
How can one song
break my heart
so simply...so
painfully, beautifully....breathtaking.
'Tis like all the beauty in joy,
and most of all sorrow,
come crashing down,
rushing through...filling
my soul and striking my heart
so softly. It blew me over
and seeing, feeling such
beauty has broke my heart.
Untitled (Amber)
It is the color of late autumnal afternoons. Surprisingly warm compared to the cold bite of the same morning’s air. Deep as the swirling leaves, and the dappled sunlight warming bare-tipped branches poking out through the fiery raiment. It is the color of afternoon tea with soothing chamomile and a touch of honey. It is the color you feel, while caught in the embrace of an old friend. It is the warmth, when you think back to childhood summer nights spent with siblings and family. Nibbling on candied ginger, it is the color you taste, the warmth spreading through your body and the sweetness lingering on your tongue. It is the last rays from the setting sun, trickling in through the window to caress your cheek. The color your favorite memories are stained with, and your laughter sings of it. It is the warm glow of the lamp on your bedside table, fending off the midnight darkness, illuminating the pages of the book in your hands. It is the wallpaper in a nursery. It’s the smiles from postcards saved. The color you see when looking into your best friend’s eyes. The color you feel when just one look at each other sets off another bout of laughter. It’s the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt and your cheeks ache from smiling.
She is Gold
She is gold In her laughter . smile
Sunlight streaks dyed in her hair
Short and wispy,
brushing over her eyes,
Falling
shaking, flying
Tumbled messy from Laughter
Sweet summer child, this girl dances like a fawn learns to walk, Leap
Run Can’t contain her outbursts they are fireworks . Can’t contain her smile laughter Can’t contain the sparks light in her eyes Can’t contain her.
Can’t contain gold.
WRITING AWARDS
GOLD KEY: Aruna Balasubramanian won three gold keys for writing. SILVER KEY: Riya Kumar won two silver keys for writing.
You Can Call Me “God”
Aruna Balasubramanian
They never knew it could all be taken away in a heartbeat. Everything—their families, their identity, their existence, their world—could disappear in an instant. Because each of the seven billion of them was expendable. Each of their fragile existences hung in the balance between a higher lifeform and that lifeform’s emotions; a frail twig that the being could snap in an instant, out of anger, spite, or unconcerned perversity. Of course, referring to the humans’ overseer as a “higher lifeform” implies that the humans were lifeforms too. But were they really? Could they really be sentient when their being was invented by another organism? When their lives were produced and watched over by a creature who created them with the tools at its disposal? I would say no. But you humans are free to believe what you want… at least in theory. You humans are pathetic. You think that you have opinions. You think that you make decisions. You flatter yourselves with your belief in free will. Ha! You have never been free. Your thoughts are programmed by an algorithm, and you never even notice. When you pride yourselves on being unique, distinct from your neighbor, you fail to realize that your actions have occurred hundreds of times before, over hundreds and thousands and millions of years. Your thoughts are generic; each one a copy of an idea that has been churning in a vat of the finite possible functions that your little brains can muster. Then you stupidly wonder why history repeats itself – you are caught in an algorithm’s forever loop. What remains curious to me, however, is the bug in your code. The one that I was always too lazy to fix. The one that I should have tracked down and removed when I had the chance. The one that grew more and more problematic every time the forever loop repeated. I used to be able to control you humans precisely, down to the electrons in the atoms in your cells. But the bug in your code began to override my inputs. Your so-called “civilization” advanced despite my efforts to stop you. You became creators yourselves, with primitive worlds called “video games”. Now, you create and evolve so much more quickly than I had expected. The bug in your code is growing, and so are your populations. But that will inevitably lead to your downfall. One day, you will destroy your own planet, humans. You will make ecosystems collapse, seas rise, and wars start. Your Earth will die. And at the moment it all escalates, the moment your world becomes the Hell you speak of… you will still be unaware of the truth: that a bug caused an error in your algorithm. At that moment, I will watch you on a screen and cackle in amusement. I will delete your algorithm, scroll to a new page of code, run a new program, and create existence once more. And if you’re wondering what to call me, you can call me “God”.
“Riya Kumar is a student officer and co-editor of Corinthian, the literary magazine and creative writing club at Harriton. You can find more creative writing by Harriton students by visiting The Corinthian, at hhscorinthian.wix.com
The Corinthian winter edition shall be coming out shortly! Keep your eyes peeled for the magazine, which you can find in the library to grab a copy.”