2nd Year Program

Sea Salt

by Hazel Yonke

Along the salty coast,
a whisper of wind
carries kites to fly with seagulls.
Tides rise and fall,
leaving bright seashells in soft white sand.
Louder than gulls children scream,
while castles, built for kings,
wait for high tide.

Da Vinci's Smile

by John Stapp

Art is more than individual expression; it's a personal taste, and a visual language. In drawing and painting or film and photography, I pick genres to draw or shoot for a reason: I might like a bird and want to draw it realistically, or tell a story in swirling colors. For telling a story or conveying a mood in a visual form, art is a medium nothing else can match.

I make artwork because I love the language of art; I am always learning as I draw or use a camera. Painting fish against a white background tells a simple story; painting it against dark swirling blue blends the fish into its environment and adds confusion and depth. It is entertainment in a very unusual way; not just a joke or a drama. By controlling light, color, shape, lines, and framing I can reveal exactly what I want the audience to see.

Art can be expressionistic, showing what I'm feeling. But in the end, it is more than that. A realistic painting, or a comedic picture: I'm the one who chooses to create it, making it my art, my masterpiece.

There is Always Sun

by Joelle Evard

When all is gloomy,
lungs and mind fill with tempests;
force shuddering coughs at every gasp…
spin judgments away from reason.

Behind dark clouds,
hidden underneath crunchy snow,
disguised between gray frozen rocks
tornados will pause,
hurricanes will cease:
dark only cloaks light temporarily.
Pelting rain streams down colorless faces,
mixing with their own salty storms,
fading all at once to soft drizzles
that tickle hair, neck, smile, and heart.

Weather cannot help but laugh,
finally, in glee.
Snow will melt away.

Painted Emotions

by Paige Robnett

I feel lost when I first start a painting, not knowing anything but the little image pictured inside my head. Anything can trigger my drive to paint: a man's wrinkled hands with stories of hard labor; a girl's broken smile; the dawn of day. Actions and objects cause the heart to feel.

To me painting is notes written down on a piece of paper. It could be someone's life story in a more beautiful, personal, intricate style. It might as well be my neighbor's grocery list. Unknown emotions lead to a piece that nobody can explain: a psychedelic piece that my mind's manifesting ultimately explains. It's hard to figure out how I feel until I stain the untouched paper, releasing thoughts, concerns, and sentiments toward the world. I can finally systemize exactly how I feel.

Painting when I am inconsolable can be the most beautiful thing any mortal can do. My emotions circulate smoothly from my scrambled head to the canvas like a waterfall with an everlasting flow of clear water that never runs out of its emotional source. I fear feelings will drive me too far. We all have something to hide, some dark place inside us we don't want the world to see. So we pretend everything's normal, wrapping ourselves in rainbows. And maybe that's all for the best. Some say artists are miserable people, which to an extent is true. Most focus is mistaken for misery: artists are always looking, curious about how the weirdest objects could become a masterpiece, then turns into money to put food on our tables. No ingenuity eventually leads to no food.

Any musician who creates a song that reaches out, grabbing my soul and wrapping it in peace and serenity, is an artist who is my partner in crime, my inspiration-giver. Any song expresses a story, important or not, which transfers from the song onto my canvas. I wish the musician could see the finished product, to see joy of his song in art form. Giving away that emotion to an almost complete stranger is an unsatisfying, yet blissful feeling. It's a loss but also a gain.

Giving someone the finished product of either my emotion or his, and seeing his never-seen-before happiness light his face, is definitely an unutterable delight. To know and accept that he will hang my painting up on one of his beige-colored walls and admire it: that is why painting is my life.


by Thomas Yonke

Dreadful papers passed, poor
boy obtained his just instants
before relaxing. Even
eloquent equations slouched, slumped,
slurred themselves on the devilish snow-
white sheet, perfectly-
tuned bodies, producing
one answer,
and one answer only.
Fear, bribed by stiff confusion,
took him over with lazy intent.
He stretched, with a yawn,
a moan, a sigh,
dozing off,
to the fading sound of his teacher saying,

. . . Zzzz.

To see other pieces written by 2nd Year students in this class, Click here

Click on the icon at right to send pieces to other students for editing: Editors' Links

TO GET CREDIT for an email edit: print out the edited email that you send back to each person, and bring the printed email to me in class. ALSO print out the email edits you receive on your own pieces -- they are drafts that must come in at the end with the other drafts of your finished pieces.

To see pieces written by 2nd Year students in 2011-2012, Click here
To see pieces written by 2nd Year students in 2009-2010, Click here
To see pieces written by 2nd Year students in 2007-2008, Click here
To see pieces written by 2nd Year students in 2006-2007, Click here
To see pieces written by 2nd Year students in 2004-2005, Click here
To see pieces written by 2nd Year students in 2002-2003, Click here
To see pieces written by 2nd Year students in 2001-2002, Click here
To see pieces written by 2nd Year students in 2000-2001, Click here

Click on the icon at left to see what you will be doing in ART this year: 2nd Year Art

Click on the icon at right to see what movies we will be watching this year: 2nd Year Films


by Nicholas Hardy

Blue, teal, cobalt silence:
nothing but blowing bubbles
and oxygen coming through my air tank.
Descending deeper I could feel the pressure.
as the world changed.
Fish scurried away from me into
green, apricot, teal, amber, yellow, gray and black
coral. A crab
watched my every move.
Around the corner a monster fish
ruled his coral kingdom.
We all grouped together into a ring;
a line shot up; we ascended into
the blaring sun.


by Hazel Yonke

Deep Creek Lake each summer's day,
shimmers like a mirror,
reflecting freedom and laughter.
A bridge to the past; every
rock hits still water,
blurring our connection.
What was once so peaceful and calm;
now disrupted and torn.

Arches by Joseph Yonke

Boy Stuff

by Joseph Yonke

I worry a lot, feel
tired after I run; see
the outline of things before
I see detail. Skiing and painting give me joy.
Rough calluses protect
weathered fingertips from pain
when I play mandolin.

Mixed Emotions

by Tess Billmire

Kids see me as a quiet, nice person,
but a lonely girl feeling
unaccepted walks around aimlessly,
wondering who I am. Others see me
as always happy and friendly, but
someone who is scared and nervous
wonders about expectations every day.
My friends say I am smart but who am I when
that is taken away? I am
a nervous, uptight wreck who
nobody can see but

2nd Semester Unfinished Pieces


                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%



                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%



                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%



                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%



                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%



                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%



                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%



                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%



                Revisions = 100%
                Edits = 100%


To see other pieces written by 2nd Year students in this class, Click here

Updated list of all 2nd Year vocabulary

Short story citations & notes on discussions:

Sucker by Carson McCullers
Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
The Declaration of Independence
The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare
Interpretive and Evaluative Questions for essays by Alexis de Tocqueville

NFS Skills List


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