In A Grove 2011
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Transcript of In A Grove 2011
A Celebration of Writing and Art at Lakefield College School
Featuring the winners of LCS Writes! Sponsored by The Grove Society
In a Grove 2011
Grades 11/121st Anna Heffernan, “Mother Earth”2nd Joanna Potts, “18”3rd Michael Casson, “Haiku iii from the Hood River, Nunavut - July 2010”
Grades 9/101st Ritchie Lee, “Untitled”
Grades 11/121st Christine Learmonth, “Azreal” 2nd Samier Kamar, “Power of Apathy” 3rd Anna Heffernan, “Scissor Sisters” (Excerpt*)
*Excerpt of prose selection published due to space restrictions. Visit lcs.on.ca and click Beyond the Class > Co-curricular Arts to read prose pieces in full. Please see page 32 for artists’ names.
Poetry Section
Prose Section
LCS Writes! Winners
1
By Anna Heffernan
a mother rises
at the dawn
to the song of the thunderbird
and the bringing of the rain.
she rises at the dawn
to see a world she never knew,
innocent like the fawn
before the first flag flew.
she was born on the back of a turtle
and knew well hurt and pain
she’s seen many hurdles
since before the white man came.
war and peace she could not stop
the battles won nor lost,
the red man’s holocaust,
the beauty they forgot.
she rises at the dawn
as dewy petals open.
the shield of night, gone
an elder’s blessing, broken.
1st place, Grades 11/12 poetry
Mother Earth
2
By Joanna Potts
I lay with my troop 'neath the sand,
We all breathed as one.
A well oiled machine,
Underneath the sun.
We fought to prevent a fight,
The irony was ignored.
We thought there'd be pride,
As the dead washed ashore.
We separated their families,
Be it to above or below.
That's all there is to it,
That's all there is to know.
I only joined four months ago,
My birthday was last July.
I really thought I would make a difference,
I'm 18 and legal to die.
2nd place, Grades 11/12 poetry
18
3
4
5
By Michael Casson
iii)
The receding sky,
Cannot outpace the red sun,
Ever in chase of time.
3rd place, Grades 11/12 poetry
Haiku iii from the Hood River, Nunavut - July 2010
6
7
By Ritchie Lee
A cratered surface
With the luminance of the moon
Trying to escape its dark past
Without heeding any attention to the future
Continuing to aimlessly wander through space
It is unwanted
It is beyond anyone’s control
The final destination is a planet
A planet with an atmosphere, moving water, warmth, and life
The only planet with life known to man
1st place, Grades 9/10 poetry
UNTITLED
8
9
By Christine Learmonth
The wind whipped across her face as she sat on the road, shaking in a mix of
rage, sadness and grief. She wondered how things could have ever gone this
far. He had always been there, a bright smile, encouraging words, and a warm
voice. He had been a light not only in her life, but in her family’s and friends’
lives. The frozen gravel beneath her legs and the occasional flurry of snow
burned against the heat of her body. Although it was the middle of winter, and
the sun had been gone for hours, it seemed as though she would never feel the
cold. His life fuelled a fire within her, as if he had never really gone anywhere.
As another harsh gust hit her, she was startled, and she looked up to see a fig-
ment of her imagination walking off into the distance in the field to her right.
Distraught, she believed everything she thought she saw was real, all the while
knowing she could truly believe in nothing at all. The air whispered into her
ears and she imagined it was his voice speaking gentle verses. This kind of
thing is easy to imagine when you’re looking for something you can’t find. She
wondered, just for a moment, if he would ever completely leave her behind.
Her cries were drowned out by the skies’ own howls, and it occurred to her
that they shared the same pain; forever feeling the same things, but forced to
keep going, going, going. She pictured a train, like the ones from her dreams,
and was devoured. The car rocked back and forth as the tracks creaked and
moaned, carrying the weight of the train. The stones trickled down the side of
the ballast hill as the wheels pulled rhythmically by, yanking car after car
behind it. With thick black forest lining both sides of the tracks, the trees melt-
ed into the night sky, where not a single shining star could be found.
One particular car held nothing of importance; a wooden crate, dust, and dark-
ness. However, a man sat in the corner, whose dark hat felt as if it was made of
hessian. This and his dark, scruffy beard merged into each other in the dark,
AZREAL
10
and made his eyes appear like black onyx, sunken into his skull. As he looked
over to her, they shared a look of understanding and he looked away, as if the
unlikely pair knew just where they were headed.
As the train pulled farther and farther away from where it had started, the figure
of a boy showed up on the tracks in the distance. The girl pleaded with the man
to stop the train, and he did, though it was hard to tell whether he stopped time,
or the train itself. She climbed out of the cold, smooth, metal box, and landed
precariously between one rotten board, and one rusted metal track. The rocks
crunched under her bare toes as she avoided stepping on the cross ties as she
walked towards the boy. Growing closer and closer, his face became clearer. His
face remained the same from the last time she had seen him, but his eyes had
grown dark, like those of the man on the train. The girl led him back towards the
train and tried to pull herself back into the car when the man stopped her with a
rough hand on a soft shoulder. The boy could not come on this train. She turned,
and the boy nodded, understanding reasons the girl had not heard. She wrapped
her arms around the boy’s small frame, before crawling back into her steel ref-
uge. The boy followed the train on foot, travelling at a much slower pace than
the cars ahead of him were disappearing.
As the train pulled away, it seemed she was getting closer, but there was the still
the feeling that she was missing the boy more and more. As night faded to dawn,
and the train arrived at its destination, the girl started on foot back down the
tracks to find the boy. Walking through the mist and cold, with bare shoulders,
and bare feet, she became weak and slipped down the hill on which the train
tracks were built. She let herself slide, almost ready to give up. Towards the bot-
tom of the ridge, her foot softly connected with a warmer object, and looking
down she saw the boy. He slept, or was dead. It was hard to tell, because he
breathed but would not wake.
Placing his body in her arms, she climbed the hill back to the tracks and began
to walk. Slowly, afraid of waking the boy, she stepped cautiously over each cross
11
tie, and looked deep into the vacancy of the boy’s eyes. The creases in his face
dissipated, and the mess of his hair calmed as the breeze ceased. She stared
deep into his closed mind, and waited for it to open. It happened suddenly, as
the light that exploded from inside of him consumed the entirety of her being.
The boy screamed, and she almost didn’t return to the halfway real state that she
belonged to.
She set the boy down on his uneasy feet, and he took her hand in his, tucking a
piece of her soul into his palm. They walked on the rough gravel until they met a
road that led to somewhere completely new. The clouds gave in, like pitchers
made of newsprint, and sheets of rain poured down and all around them, as they
waited for the thunder to arrive. He walked beside her then, as they approached
the bridge, the cold water flowing in ribbons beneath them. Stepping up onto
the ledge, never letting go of each other’s hand, they let the salted droplets fall-
ing from the sky lower them into the water below. Hitting the surface, the new
sensation overwhelmed them, as the breathtakingly cold water engulfed them.
Just as she ran out of breath, from below the rushing currents, the sounds of
birds chirping came drifting to her, and she opened her eyes.
The feeling of fresh sheets between her feet, and the sunlight forcing its way
through the billowing curtains, she sat up. The mattress eased under her weight
as she turned to take in the scene. Through the open windows, the bird songs
were unmistakable. There was the boy, just as he always had been, lying in bed
beside her, hair drifting in the breeze, and she allowed him to dream for a few
more minutes as she accepted that he was finally in her reality, until death do
they part.
1st place, Grades 11/12 prose
12
13
14
15
By Samier Kamar
It disgusts me to see the amount of garbage in the streets of Egypt – a country
that is home to my parents, grand-parents and seventy-five million others. I am
heartbroken to see ripped-open garbage all over the place as if it has over-
powered and over-populated the citizens, and yet the people aren’t cleaning it
up.
What does this mean? Are Egyptian citizens a particularly unclean people?
Should they be blamed for all this dirt, corruption and lack of order in the
streets? Should we point fingers at them for not being able to deal with their
own problems? Is it possible for a country of almost 80 million inhabitants to
be all at fault? These questions were ones that were left un-answered for a peri-
od of over 30 years. Corruption, injustice, poverty, un-cleanliness, theft, mur-
der and a lack of job opportunities were flowing like the rapid waters of
Niagara Falls, until the Egyptian people could no longer withstand it any more.
They broke through the barrier of oppression and unlocked the manacles of
fear, weakness and lack of control that has been pulling them down. Egyptians
have been living under an autocratic, totalitarian government for 30 years in
which a feeling of powerlessness, helplessness and no sense of control had
over-burdened the entire nation. It left them with no alternative but to live the
rest of their lives in a complete state of apathy.
Thankfully however, here in Canada, we’re not like that – are we? We do have
a fully democratic system in which the idea of being apathetic doesn’t even
exist in our lives – or does it? Two separate studies, one reported from
Maclean’s and the other by The Globe and Mail write that there’s been a grow-
ing public concern in the trust and legitimacy of our political institutions. That
one person’s vote won’t make a difference in the overall outcome of the elec-
tions and so, why bother to vote in the first place? Just to give an example, in
October of 2008, the percentage of Canadians that voted was 58.8%. People
the power of apathy
16
then – and now – believe that voting has little power to it, leaving them with a
sense of weakness, hopelessness and a lack of control. Oh wait, isn’t that called
voter apathy?
Let’s look at what the Egyptians did. January 25th, 2011 marked the beginning of
their stance to re-take control, power and get involved; it marked the day in
which fear was no longer a living reality in the minds of Egyptians; and, more
importantly, it marked the day that all Egyptians around the world have been
waiting for. They fought until they finally got what they wanted: President
Mubarak’s resignation, a new government and freedom! But this was only the
beginning – the beginning toward a population’s effort to radically reform Egypt
in all senses, with this new sense of power and hope to make change. Eighteen
days later, on February 11th, Mubarak’s regime which had led to: the unemploy-
ment of millions of youth; the under-paid monthly salaries of families with chil-
dren to feed; the ill-supported and supplied public health care systems and edu-
cation systems and the mess in the streets was eradicated. The courage to stand
in front of high-pressure water being sprayed at the protestors and the courage to
stand in front of the tear-gas that the government police used against the protes-
tors was enough to refill the hearts of the citizens back with hope, power and
control.
Fortunately, Canada’s situation is not as bad. In fact, Canadians need to start
understanding that going and marking an X on an election ballot is a luxury and
not a nuisance. Every single Canadian citizen, youth and adult alike, should look
forward to Election Day and take control and advantage of that opportunity to
know their vote can be the deciding factor in the outcome of the election results
and potentially change the future of our nation.
Only now is Egypt beginning to really feel this luxury of a process called elec-
tions and voting – to come to the realization that they can take control of their
nation, and steer its course of direction for the future. I am proud to see, that on
the day of February 11th, all Egyptian citizens congregated, united, in Tehrir
Square, and helped clean the mess that apathy had made over the last 30 years.
2nd place, Grades 11/12 prose.
17
18
19
By Anna Heffernan
SCENE I
DANIELLE Growing up I always knew I was going to be a hairdresser.
DANIELLE My mom was a hairdresser so I guess I kind of fell into the
& LAURA trap.
DANIELLE I just never really cared to know what else was out there.
& LAURA
& RACHEL
RACHEL How long ‘til opening?
LAURA Three minutes.
DANIELLE Rachel, sweep.
RACHEL I swept it last night.
DANIELLE So?
RACHEL So nothing’s happened to it all night!
DANIELLE Well fine then, do nothing.
RACHEL Fine!
LAURA Okay, so. We have five appointments today. Danielle has Miss
Emily Fitzpatrick and Rachel has Miss Julie Cross–
RACHEL Seriously, Laura, we know who they are, we don’t need their
last names and everything every single time.
SCISSOR SISTERS
20
DANIELLE It’s called professionalism, Rachel.
RACHEL Can it be professionalism when you’ve seen the professional in
diapers?
LAURA – Then we have Miss Shannon Davis and Miss Sarah Donnelly,
and then there’s Miss Lisa Renfrew –
DANIELLE Wait – three? At once? We only ever do two at once –
RACHEL Three – what?
LAURA Wait –
RACHEL No way, no –
LAURA I’m doing it.
DANIELLE What?
& RACHEL
LAURA I’m going to help with the clients today.
DANIELLE You’re sure?
RACHEL Thank God, ‘cause I am just too swamped.
DANIELLE Hey, Rach?
RACHEL Yeah?
DANIELLE Sweep. But really, Laur, you want to cut hair today?
LAURA Hey, we need the business. We can’t keep operating on only
two hairdressers.
RACHEL That’s all we have.
DANIELLE Well, great, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just relax and remember
what Mom always said.
21
22
23
LAURA Be sharp
RACHEL Sharpen your scissors
DANIELLE And you’ll get a sharp cut.
DANIELLE That’s right. So how come your scissors are so dull, Rach?
RACHEL Relax, spaz.
(ENTER EMILY)
LAURA Hello, welcome –
EMILY (still smashed from the night before) Ah my Gawd, Laura. Take
the stick out of your ass. Hey, girls!
DANIELLE Hey, Em… you want some, uh, coffee… or something…?
EMILY What, I’m fine, just fine I’m great I love you guys.
RACHEL You got any booze on you, or just the stuff coming out your
pores?
DANIELLE Here, hon, drink some of this.
LAURA (seeing JULIE enter the shop) Hello, welcome to Scissor Sisters,
you can take a seat in our reception area. Can I get you a
coffee?
JULIE No, thanks, Laura, I’m fine. (LAURA exits behind hairdryers)
EMILY Oh, God, would you look at that. I look like a two dollar
whore.
RACHEL Oh, I dunno, I’d price you a little higher than that.
EMILY Well, you’re right there. (pulls a few Benjamins out of her top)
And they think we spend this shit on food.
24
DANIELLE I would’ve thought you could write off haircuts as a business
expense.
EMILY Don’t kid yourself, honey. We’re all whores; just some of us get
paid. How’s that husband of yours, by the way? Still dumb as a
doornail?
DANIELLE (Tense room) (drops Emily’s hair. Retreats closer to her station,
wiping combs.)
EMILY I’m sorry. You know how I am when I’m drunk. (Lights up a
cigarette) (DANIELLE gets herself together, stands back behind
the chair, begins brushing)
EMILY You know who I saw last night? Him. Yeah, that guy I was
telling you about. He came around last night. Went back to his
hotel. Couldn’t help myself. You know how I am – those blue
eyes, I just can’t resist them. I know, I know what I said, I said I
wasn’t going to see him anymore but the same thing happens
every time. I always convince myself, hey, I need the money.
This is my job, right, who am I to turn down a paying
customer? Sure, there are lots of other capital-L losers lined up
around the block waiting for their turn on the welcome wagon,
but I always convince myself, when he comes around, that
maybe it’s gonna be a slow night. Maybe he’s my only chance
to make a buck that night. He never is, I know there’s always
gonna be some other guy to screw out of his money – but I’m
just telling you, this is the shit that goes on up here. You know
Leah? She works the corner of Johnson and 10th. She told me
that’s the first sign of love; when they keep coming back. She’s
a stupid bitch, but I just couldn’t get that line out of my head
all day. When they keep coming back. Because he does keep
coming back. He could hire any girl he wants, but he keeps
coming back for me. And it’s not like I’m the cheap girl in the
neighbourhood, but every time he comes into town he shells
out enough money to see me. There must be a reason for that,
right? I kept thinking about that all day yesterday and
25
wondering if he would come back. Hoping he would come
back, really. So when I saw that baby blue trans-am pull up
around the corner I just couldn’t believe my eyes. It was like
something out of a romance novel, the knight in shining
armour coming back for his princess. So of course, I hopped
in. I didn’t even think twice about it. That whole day I just
knew it, there was this awful feeling in my stomach and I knew
it. I’d fallen in love with him. The very thing I said I’d never let
myself do, I fell in love. During the whole thing, you know,
they want you to say you love them. Not the freaky ones, but
most of them do, that’s what they’re looking for. Sure everyone
says they’re just looking for sex, but they’re not. Men might not
want to admit it, some of them might not even realize it, but
it’s something deeper. You ever wonder why they pay for the
whole night? Not ‘cause they can last that long, that’s for damn
sure. It’s ‘cause they want to cuddle. They want someone to
talk to. That’s why I always tell them I love them. The way I see
it, they’re just three stupid words that mean a hell of a lot more
to them than they ever have to me, so why not give them away?
But this time. This time. Oh, this time I meant it, I really did. I
never knew I was capable of meaning anything I said, certainly
nothing that big. I said it once when I kissed him. But I don’t
know, I guess he didn’t recognize what I was really saying, that
I really meant I loved him. It’s like that little boy, what’s his
name, wolf boy or something. Anyway he said there was a wolf
and there wasn’t, so when there really was a wolf no one
believed him, you know that story?
(EMILY moves to sit beneath a hairdryer)
Well the point is, I’ve told this guy I love him so many times
that when I actually mean it he doesn’t even get it. It’s like the
words mean nothing coming from my mouth anymore. When
that happened I’ll never know, but it happened. So after
everything, we were just laying in bed. He was having his
cigarette as usual, and I did it. I looked him right in the eye –
26
I never look them right in the eye – and I said it. I told him I
loved him. And I guess there must’ve been something different
in the way I said it, or something in my eyes, ‘cause he looked
scared. He had the exact opposite reaction I expected. Every
other time I tell a man I love him it’s a good reaction. A great
reaction, but he was different. He didn’t know what just hit
him; the cigarette fell out of his mouth and burned a hole in
the bed sheets. It all happened so fast… before I knew it he
was jumping up, pulling on his clothes, and he was gone. He
left the money on the night stand and I was just sitting there. I
never hated picking up the money off the nightstand more than
I did this morning. It’s like it was mocking me. You’re just a
whore, it told me. Nobody loves a whore, nobody wants to see
your face in the light of day, how could you be so stupid to
think otherwise? Nobody wants a whore for a girlfriend, for a
wife! I guess I just… I wanted him to be everything he wasn’t.
He was more like me than I thought. He wasn’t anything.
(Blows a ring of smoke)
3rd place, Grades 11/12 prose. Visit lcs.on.ca and click Beyond the Class > Co-curricular Arts to read "Scissor Sisters" in full.
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Front Cover: Katie Sullivan
Inside Front Cover (left to right): Jessica Song, Nayna
Maini, Christine Chan
Opposite “LCS Writes! Winners”: Grace Ni
Opposite “Mother Earth”: Sabrina Yang
p3 (top to bottom): Fanbo Zhou, Millie Yates,
Lyndsay Armstrong
p4 (top to bottom): Andy Mui, Megn Walker,
Cecilia Yang
p6: Jon Kim
p8: Kyusik Chung
p12-13: Fanbo Zhou
p14: Jordan Ryder
p17: Andy Mui
p18: Sophia Gabbani
p21: Jenna Vander Velden
p22: Maria Castello
p27: Theresa Spilker
Inside Back Cover (left to right): Colleen MacKenzie,
Kitty Luo
Photography: Simon Spivey
Artwork