The Origin Project

The Origin Project Book Four | 2018 Contributor Credits Photography, Virginia Commission for the Arts Barter Theatre Event Photography, Tim Cox & Angel Cox, Tim Cox Photo/Graphics, Inc. Photography & Videography, Gigi Long Stained Glass Design for Cover, Jackie Terry Cover Photography, Frank Woodward The Origin Project Logo, Elizabeth Berry We offer sincere gratitude to Linda Woodward for all she has done to make The Origin Project, Book Four possible. The Origin Project Book Four | 2018 The Origin Project I wrote my way out When the world turned its back on me I was up against the wall I had no foundation No friends and no family to catch my fall Running on empty, with nothing left in me but doubt I picked up a pen And wrote my way out —Lin-Manuel Miranda Writing is a valuable, sometimes vital, tool in any walk of life, endeavor, or ca- reer. Storytelling, in particular, is a talent: a precious gift bequeathed to us by family or friends or teachers or mentors. The Origin Project is an in-school writing program that sprouted from the idea that the stories and people of Appalachia are national treasures and our children should celebrate their roots. Co-founded by best-selling author and film director Adriana Trigiani and education advocate and longtime friend Nancy Bolmeier Fisher, this program seeks to inspire young people to dis- cover and release their inner voices through the craft of writing about their unique origins and has expanded to include and celebrate the diverse heritage within its growing group of students. Now a five-year-old, The Origin Project has multiplied from 40 students in Big Stone Gap to more than 1,300 students in 11 schools. Each academic year, the students are given a personal journal and thereafter work on multiple projects or stories in any form of literature to their liking that speaks of and to their heritage. Their work is published in a year-end anthology, presented to each student and made available in school and public libraries. The Origin Project is integrated with the Virginia SOL curriculum and steps in to work with each student at his or her respective writing skill level in order to conceive, develop, hone, and edit their ideas into short stories, poems, plays, interviews, or other works of art. The students tell us how they want to express their thoughts and they select their compo- sition for publication: they choose their genre; they do the hard work. We synergize the community with the schools to offer heritage-related presentations, and incorporate school libraries and museums so that students gain an understanding of the rôle of history in the present and develop the skill of research. We import renowned bestsell- ing authors to meet with the students and speak to them about their personal experiences as writers. (David Baldacci, Meg Wolitzer, Margot Lee Shetterly, Mary Hogan, and poet Laurie Eustis have met with our students.) The students read aloud their work in public, before their peers, parents, teachers, and guest artists, often on stages such as the historic Barter Theater or Mountain Empire Community College. At the celebration of the book unveiling last year, students and guests were treated to video messages from Governor Terry McAuliffe and Ms. Shetterly and to a Skype exchange with Senator Tim Kaine. It is always a thrilling surprise to read the work of these students, to witness their growth, and to observe the budding of their self-esteem. Students who never before thought they could create now look at the world in a new way and learn to fly. And, mostly, they come to see the world they live in as a place of sustenance and growth and the people who surround them as descendants of a rich and productive vein in American history ... which, after all, belongs to them. TaBle oF ConTenTs Kicking Off the Year 1 Abingdon High School 11 Eastside High School 45 Flatwoods Elementary School 79 Greendale Elementary School 143 Lee High School 153 Morrison School 259 Norton Elementary School 273 St. Charles Elementary School 337 St. Paul Elementary School 365 Stonewall Jackson High School 391 Union Middle School 425 Literary & Art Competitions & Achievements 497 Barter Theatre & I Wrote My Way Out! With Laurie Eustis 529 The Crooked Road 541 Before and After 563 Pondering Our Paths to the Future 571 Virginia Commission for the Arts 617 Gratitude 625 Index 627 kiCking Off The Year 2 kiCking Off The Year KiCking Off The Year 3 4 kiCking Off The Year KiCking Off The Year 5 6 kiCking Off The Year KiCking Off The Year 7 8 kiCking Off The Year Gratitude The Origin Project Participating Principals and Teachers Eastside High School Roberta Gibbons Bryan Crutchfield Laura Barnett Hope Cloud Morrison School Katie Jessie Jamie Verderosa Abingdon High School Rebecca Phillips Jimmy King Karla Rasnake Crystal Hurd Ashley Kessler Greendale Elementary School Flatwoods Elementary School Allyson Willis Michelle Warner Brenda Sprinkle Sheila Shuler Gigi Long Union Middle School Gretta Carroll Paul Clendenon Kim Goforth Vickie Welch Paula Kenney Joshua Kestner Briana Austin Redena Barton Dawn Crabtree Brandi Bostic Sherry Moore Amy Slagle Lisa Barnett Karen Watkins Angela Ellis Emily Ball St. Paul Elementary School Karen Dickenson Norton Elementary School Melissa Galliher Scott Addison Alana Broyles Brad Hart Cheryl Duncan Lee High School Renee Robinson Dr. Renia Clark Lisa Bolling Alex Long Sindy Fields Stonewall Jackson High School Jillian Skidmore Rhonda Carper Stephanie Fee Chad Cavender Christine Driscoll St. Charles Elementary School Lauren Kohistani Kellie Leonard Mark McElwee Sheila Mitchell Megan Link KiCking Off The Year 9 aBingdon high sChool The Four-Mile Marker Upon reaching the stone pillar, Last remnant of an iron-sided engine, I double over, gasping for air. My shoes are caked in thick black mud, My legs dusted with scorched coal. Four miles of winding trails have brought me here, To the precipice of the wood. The mountainside falls away to a steep ravine mere inches away from my feet. I stand in my precarious position, Perched on a ledge peering over the babbling creek below. All is silent, Save the murmuring of the brook, and my ragged gasps. The woods around me do not stir at my intrusion. They bow only to an autumn breeze, Tossing fiery leaves to the trail, And padding the earth beneath my feet. CLAIRE arMsTRONG, GRADE 12 The Haunted Tavern “Let’s get this party started,” I yell as my friends and I clink our root beers together and cheer in unison. I’m Grayson. Today is my birthday. My party is being held at The Tavern in Abingdon, Virginia. It’s 9:00 PM; a prime party time. As I sit at in the booth, I look at my friends who are having a good time. They’re laughing and being loud. The sight makes my heart happy and also makes me grin. A perfect night with my best friends. After many root beers, I begin to feel sick. So much sugar consumption in one night. Bleh. “Hey fellas. I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” I say, holding my stomach as I speak. I get a thumbs up from my friend chugging his root beer. I return the thumbs up and rush to the bathroom. I run into the stall and get on my knees and lean over the toilet, preparing for the damage about to be done to me. 12 aBingdon high sChool As I sit there a bit, waiting, I feel a cold breeze go over my neck. “What the-,” I say, putting my palm over the back of neck. The bathroom door didn’t open, nor was the AC on. No reason for such a cool breeze. I become scared, making my nausea worse. That triggered my stomach, making me heave. As I finish, and I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and stand up, my knees a bit shaky. I turn around and open the stall door hesitantly. I go over to the sink and look in the mirror hanging above it. I’m extremely pale. I guess that was my brain playing tricks on me, I think to myself. I need to wash my face off. Maybe that’ll make me feel better. I turn the cold water on and cup my hands under it. It’s freezing. I lean my head down and splash it on my face. I shake my head and look back up at the mirror and wipe my eyes. My whole body freezes. My eyes widen and my breathing hitches. There’s someone behind me. Just over my shoulder. A black mass with a face, grinning at me. I turn around as quickly as humanly possible and see no one. My breathing gets heavier. I turn back to the mirror. There it is again. This time, its clawed hands are hovering over my neck and its grin is wider. I feel the breeze again. I’ve never felt so terrified in my entire life. It feels as if my blood turned cold. I scream as loud as my vocal cords will let me and run towards the door. My heart is racing and I feel dizzy. As I grab the handle to the door, I feel something grab my ankle. I scream again and start crying. “LET ME GO,” I yell, trying to get my ankle back. I open the door and lunge out. I don’t feel the thing on my ankle anymore. As tears run down my face and I breathe heavy, I see everyone in The Tavern look at me, and then a friend asks, “Grayson, what in the world is wrong?” I just ignore him and slam myself into the exit.

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