Welcome to Xpress Plugged In, our new online gallery of student expressions. Please follow the submission instructions CAREFULLY. New work will be posted every Monday.
-- Nancy Green, editor of XPI
Life Cycle of Leaves, acrylic on canvas board
Cari Robaldo, ninth grade, PCCA at Gibbs High School, St. Petersburg
As I open the curtain, beams of golden sunlight filter into the dark hotel room. Another sunny day on the water, I note, observing a group of tourists gathering seashells on their early morning beach walk. To me, a favorite place is where you enjoy yourself, where you want to be. And for me, that place is my home away from home: Daytona Beach. For years my family has traveled here for week-long summer vacations; sometimes we bring our friends. The same things lure me here each time: the warm, sunny beaches; deep-sea fishing adventures and exciting races at the Daytona Speedway.
Turquoise waves crash against the thick sand; a bubbling white foam lingers behind. The powerful sun and searing sand burn me all over, but I find the familiar heat comforting. The beach has always been my favorite thing about Daytona. Here, I can relax and gaze at the rolling waves or take part in an enjoyable water activity. One of the best things about the beach in Daytona is the boogie boarding, especially when our family's friends come with us. We will spend hours each day riding the waves together and enjoying the water; we have even attempted to learn to surf, though we have not made it very far yet.
Scaly fish flop all around me, pewter-colored hooks still latched in their jaws. A scent of sea salt and raw bait fills the boat, and the navy blue ocean is the only thing visible around me for miles. Millions of people flock to Daytona each year to fish on one of Daytona's many charter boats, including my family. At the age of eight, I took my first deep-sea fishing trip in Daytona and have been going ever since then; going out on a charter boat is a top priority for my father, my sister and me. All of us enjoy fishing, especially when we catch a large fish we can keep, and a sense of accomplishment washes over us. By the end of the day-long trip, we are given the stringer we have built up: a long rope strung with fish and filled with the day's memorable moments. Sometimes we host a fish fry with our family and our friends back at the hotel, featuring the day's fresh catches.
Last year my family and our friends went to our first race at the Daytona Speedway. Colorful tents and caravans selling snacks and merchandise lined the walkway up to the Daytona Speedway's entrance. Fans' excitement and anticipation for the race's beginning hung heavy in the air. In the distance, engines revved to life creating a gradual crescendo as they prepared to take off. Finally, a deep voice on the loud speaker blared the long-awaited: "On your marks, get set, go!" Everyone agreed that it was the most interesting part of the trip - an experience like no other. Cheering for our favorite driver, hoping he reached the finish line first, seeing the group of racecars zoom pass by in a blur, for me, there is nothing not to love about coming to a race.
Ever since her mother taught her how when she was seven years old, Janice Thompson has been sewing. Now, she is using her talents to bring smiles to the children's faces at a special camp. The 65-year-old is currently sewing quilts and wall hangings for a Hole in the Wall Camp, a camp for children with chronic illnesses, such as severe asthma, bleeding disorders and cancer.
The camp, located in Eustis, Florida, is called Camp Boggy Creek, and each week children with a different medical condition can attend. They will be safe because the camp is equipped with medical professionals who can treat the illnesses. Otherwise, the children would not be able to have the experience of going to camp. At the end of their week at camp, the children can take home the quilt they used that week, including some of the quilts Thompson has made.
Thompson found out about Camp Boggy Creek through Mrs. Hill, the principal of Leila G. Davis Elementary School in Clearwater. Hill knew that Thompson sewed and suggested that if she was ever looking for a service project, she could make things for Boggy Creek.
Since the beginning of the summer, Thompson has been sewing things for the camp. She has completed four quilts and three wall hangings so far. "My goals are to create quilts using bright colors with themes that will appeal to children," Thompson says.
Thompson says that she has always enjoyed using her love of sewing to help people, and Camp Boggy Creek is one of the most worthwhile causes she has ever heard about. She plans to continue making things for Boggy Creek for as long as she can sew. "I enjoy making quilts because I feel that in some small way, I am helping children who really need some joy in their lives."
My greatest fear is a storm cloud, dark and ominous that constantly hovers above my head, acting as a constant reminder of everything I try to convince myself does not exist. This deep fear greets me when my other thoughts are resting. Easily awakened, a thought, a sound, a memory buried deep can trigger it. My greatest fear is the notion of unfathomable situations I try to keep locked away. It festers in the quiet hours of the night where my wild imagination is vulnerable to the mysterious darkness.
At times, my greatest fear is more than a single thing. It hides out in the back of my mind revealing itself only when I antagonize it. When its vicious side is uncovered, it grabs me, restraining and tormenting me until I muster the strength to throw it back into the dark abyss of thoughts I push away from my mind. This great fear is my opponent in a race. At first, I am in the lead, running quickly, almost home free. As the last turn comes near, my opponent gains speed on me, going faster and faster until it passes me by, abandoning me in the dust. Once again, I am a victim of my own fear.
Some say my greatest fear is inevitable, unavoidable. Not knowing what comes next, being unsure of how to prepare toys with my mind sending an additional surge of panic through my entire body. Not having the answer gives me a feeling of insecurity, like I don't have control over something. I want to conquer the fear that holds me back and am making progress every day. Someday I will break free and put my deepest, greatest fear behind me: change.
Love is cherishable, sincere and undying.
Love is the procession of the warm summer days filled with friends and adventures.
Love is the salty sea air that engulfs me as I gaze at the waves crashing on the shore of Daytona Beach.
Love is awakening before the break of dawn to embark on a fishing trip at the local sea wall with my father.
Love is the scent of my favorite coconut shampoo trickling down the shower drain in the form of frothy white foam.
Love is the sight of the red, brown and orange leaves scattered about the landscape in autumn.
Love is passing out handfuls of candy to eager trick-or-treaters on the night of Hallowe'en.
Love is seeing the lively expression on my sister's face as she tears through the paper in which her birthday present from me is carefully wrapped.
Love is my family gathered around a home-cooked feast at Thanksgiving.
Love is the slight chill in the air brushing up against my skin, revealing winter's return.
Love is baking gingerbread cookies alongside my sister and grandmother to be served on Christmas day.
Love is helping those less fortunate than I in any way that I can during the season of giving.
Love is my entire family gathering around a Christmas tree overflowing with presents - the one time each year we are all together.
Love is being immersed in the season of hope and new beginnings - spring.
Love is helping my grandfather plant a new row of royal blue lilies in the flowerbed by the side of his house.
Love is refilling the ancient birdbath and stopping to stare at the species that rest there.
Love is watching the cycle of the seasons pass - something far bigger than me - yet being content with where I am.
Love is the intense heat beating on my back as I sprint down a soccer field with the ball at my feet.
Love is letting my imagination run free - not reining it in until it retreats by itself.
Love is the twinkle in my cat's emerald green eyes - not ever judging me.
Love is my mother's lasting devotion to her daughter.
Love is learning to treasure the small things in life.
Love is something we can always give.
Love is cherishable and sincere.
Love is undying.
Three stories and one poem by Jenna Thompson, seventh grade
Samantha the Siamese, acrylic and ink on canvas
Nicole Metcalf, first grade, Kids Community College, Riverview