Prize Day Issue 2021

The 2021 Prize Day Vindex is now available!
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Winter Issue 2021

 

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Students Featured

Alarming images of wildfires
Blazing through Australia underline
Climate change and
Dominated global headlines.
Elsewhere, an epidemic was brewing.
Face masks were first dismissed by
Global epidemiologists, citing
Herd
Immunity is the way to go,
Jeopardizing our livelihoods,
Keeping us to our homes.
Living rooms became offices,
Masks became an emblem of the year, blazing the path for a
New age.
Outbreaks remain uncontained,
Prophecies of a pandemic turned out to be prescient.
Quarantine became the norm, but calls for
Racial justice took over the nation.
Social distancing in
The hallways did not prevent the
Upward trend of cases. Only a miracle - a
Vaccine,
Would save the world. But for now,
X’s mark graves. Until then, it’s sessions of
Youtube bingeing and
Zoom meetings.

- Christine Ling ’23
What is a road without cars,
A train without passengers,
A playground without children,
A secret without confidants?

The road still stands, so stubborn,
Awaiting the endless streams.

The train hibernates,
All cozy curled up,
It’s tail making a comfortable pillow.

The playground sits alone,
Confused without the boisterous cacophony
Of children screaming their heads off,
Chasing after one another.

The secret becomes a seed,
Planted in the heart.
It matures into a rose bud,
With pedals smooth and tenderly,
Like silk sliding across skin.
But the thorns prickly concentrated,
Untouchable.

All the same in a novel way,
The void.

- Louise He ’23
Those headlines are scary,
those tall bold letters,
a traumatizing
human clickbait
dramatizing, glamorizing reality

with loud letters and
expertly organized words
that form seemingly
real sentences telling
unfinished stories of
destroyed lives and
honest lies and
public secrets and
comedic tragedies and
tragic comedies and
fairytales without that happy ending,
this constant season finale
this never-ending groundhog day
of scary
big bad bold
headlines and
traumatizing,
dramatizing,
glamorous reality.

- Sydni Williams ’22
Some people have hockey rinks in their backyard.
It seems really strange when it's warm out,
But, I’ll admit, it seems quite magical in the snow.
I always wanted one growing up.
Suburbia, I think, is kinda about
wanting things you see.
Window shopping in middle school.
Watching rom-coms in high school.
Looking at manicured houses in elementary school.
Always wanting what you see
And what you don't have.
Houses propped up like TV sets,
Reality TV scripted for perfection
Traded for game shows.
Live 24/7.
Good grades,
Neat pigtails,
And a made bed
Gets you a million dollars on this show,
And maybe even your parents’ love.
Basically,
Suburbia is all about painting.
Painting on a sunset above school buildings
And American flags.
Painting houses the same color.
Painting newly paved roads,
Yellow and white lines dividing
Where things should and shouldn't go.
What direction things should go in.
Who paints them?
Who instructs them to?
Painting your bedroom to cover
Crayon stained walls,
Covering those walls with posters
And prom pictures.
Painting the picture of
A perfect family and life,
Just what Suburbia intended to be
And to have and to provide.
With no visible ill intentions.
But then one day,
You grow ill.
And you stay home from school.
You see lost dreams wander the streets.
Adults going for walks.
Sweatpants and beanie,
Or suit, sneakers, bluetooth.
Going such different speeds.
Suburbia is different during the day.
When the street lights come on, late at night,
It feels like the city to me.
I feel a little out of place.
But it is not that I do not feel like I belong
In the suburbs.
I don't want to feel that way, that privilege.
I just feel like I am so far in my comfort zone.
But I like Suburbia in the daytime,
On my bike. With my backpack.
Exploring corners. Not calling them my own.
Trying to change the narrative,
but still keep things a comfortable same,
As to not disturb the residents.
In Suburbia, no one questions
perfection. It stays the same.
Maybe you, a city girl,
Would think the street lights
Look very different here.
 
- Kendall Sommers ’22
Like the peeling of an orange,
The opening of a letter,
Or the click of a safe,
Successfully cracked,
It is all,
But the silly introduction,
To something wonderful,
Or perhaps dismal,
And unpleasant change,
Of expectation

- Adam Becht ’23