On behalf of The Odyssey Club, I would like to thank all ISB students with the courage and creativity to enter this year’s annual short story contest. We had some fabulous submissions and finally decided on three finalists.

As in prior years, it is obvious the talent and creative passion many ISB students have as demonstrated by the short stories I was fortunate to read. For your convenience and enjoyment, here is our first, second and third place winners.

First Place:

Blurry Vision
By Amber K. Barnett

“Run, damn it! Run!”

Tears obscured the teenage girl’s vision, the saltwater that suffused her sight blurring everything into non-distinct blotches of color. Suddenly, there was a loud bang.

A bright scarlet streak splashed across the other blotches of color, and a silent scream split her brain.

It was time to run. She blinked away the tears, turned away before she could see the gruesome mess that would now be in horrifying clarity, and took off. There was nothing left to wait for, after all.

Her bare feet cracked twigs and leaves as she ran, the pops and snaps creating a symphony of sounds trapped in the prestissimo pace of her run. The trees seemed to be reaching out to her, like dead souls in Tartarus, their branches scraping against her limbs relentlessly. Her dress provided little protection against the bark whips that the branches had become. She could hear their rubber boots slamming against the forest floor, their dogs heralding the chase.

“She went that way! Don’t lose her!”

The men were closing in. She was out of forest. Up ahead, she saw the break in the trees that meant the end of her refuge. She burst out of the forest in an explosion of leaves and twigs, stumbling onto flat bedrock.

A river flowed nearby, quickening gradually until it became an almighty torrent that spewed down the rocky ledge. The roar of the waterfall slamming against the rocks was deafening.

The dreadful image of the scarlet splash of color flashed in her vision again. She tightened her eyelids, as if closing them further would blind her to such memories. When the bang of the gun had signaled the end of her father’s life, it had also signaled the end of any hope she had left.

“I’m sorry, Father. I couldn’t do anything.”

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a single pair of boots making contact with rock. The girl whipped her head around to come face to face with a boy with olive-toned skin and eyes that could have been her own. His eyes hardened when he saw her.

“You’re being stupid, you know,” he snapped in the familiar tongue of her people.

She glared at him.

“Why are you doing this? I can protect you. You can stop running, live a comfortable life, away from all this suffering!”

“And what, be a traitor like you, brother?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped.

“I’m not a traitor. I’m just trying to survive.”

“You joined the soldiers’ ranks! Betrayed us to them! Dying is better than betraying your own flesh and blood! But then again,” she spat bitterly, “I can barely call you my flesh and blood anymore.”

The girl could now see the shadows of the men, dancing in the darkness of a forest at dusk. The howling of the dogs announced their arrival.
She laughed. What else was there to do, anyway?

There was a flurry of movement from the edge of the forest. Men burst from the trees, waving rifles in the air and clenching the leashes of their savage pets. Before any of them could make a move, the boy raised his hand.

“STOP!” He shouted in the language of the men surrounding them.

They hesitated, tightening their holds on their rifles.

He then looked at the girl straight in the eye.

“We can start a new life, away from here. You know what they’ll do if you don’t say yes!”

The girl’s breath hitched slightly, and she clenched her lips together. But then, after a drawn-out pause, her lips softened. She looked up at the men with a solid decision in her eyes that were warm with relief.

A flash of confusion flickered in the boy’s own eyes.

She smiled at her brother. His eyes widened, suddenly full of clarity and understanding, and he began to run toward her.

She took one step back, two. He cried out.

On the third step, she was right on the ledge, and raised both her arms up. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and breathed deeply.

She then took a fourth step, into oblivion.

Second Place:

Reminiscence
By Amy Elliott

Eliot Barton could see his feet as he ran over the shaking ground, smoke blurred his vision and the air was rank with the smell of burning flesh. He looked over as he saw his last colleague fall, and he could not help wondering when he would be next. He gripped his gun as though it would save him from the pursuing army, hoping that his life would end soon, that someone’s bullet would pierce his distraught heart. As he ran he felt himself being lifted through the air and he gazed down at his pitiful self as he continued running from his fate - could that green camouflage uniform really disguise him like his general had said- the same man who now lay in pieces, blown to bits by a grenade? Eliot rose through the clouds and his vision turned orange as the sun shone through his closed eyelids. The silence was deafening and, slowly, the sound of a grandfather clock could be heard growing louder and louder. He opened his eyes and awakened.

His bedroom appeared before him and he let his eyes rest on the birdfeeder outside as small finch was pecking at the caged grains. While the bird tapped away, his thoughts wandered back to his dream - how life had changed in the sixty-three years he had spent recovering from that one day! With a light chuckle, he grasped his wooden walking stick that lay close to his chair and managed to shuffle to the antique mirror that rested against the opposite wall. He stared at himself, wondering how time had passed by so quickly. Where his dark curls had once been, there were wispy strands of grey hair. His skin used to be taut- like a heavy quilt that was drawn up high over a made bed, but now it lay crumpled and had aged considerably with the years.

He returned to his armchair that now permanently had a rounded divot where he always rested. He noticed that the finch was still there, perched on the bird-feeder and desperately trying to clasp some of the grains with its beak. The tiny bird suddenly stopped as if startled and flew into the surrounding trees. All the while, Eliot stared at the place where the bird had disappeared and the trees blurred and again, he closed his eyes, the dull orange light of the setting sun seeping through his eyelids.

He was back, running for his life. It was then that the bullet hit him- his chest exploding in pain- it was unbearable! A silent scream split his brain. He staggered and tripped on a lifeless man, tumbling toward the ground. He landed face forward, making pain course through his body and intensify in his temples. He glanced up at the smoke-ridden sky and thought of what heaven would look like. But from then, his eyes only saw blackness.

As his memories faded to darkness, the present Mr. Barton clutched his chest in pain that was not at all part of his memories surged throughout his torso.

A week later, Mrs. Barton held the bullet they had found beneath her husband’s rib in her hand, climbing the stairs towards his room. It’s amazing he lived so long without discovering this. She reached his room. With a great effort, she threw the bullet out the window, watching it land on the lawn and stop as it hit the metal pole of the now-empty bird feeder. Mrs. Barton watched as a small finch came and grasped it in its claws, and then flew off with it into the trees. Mrs. Barton sighed and sat down in the feather armchair.

Third Place:

Unlocking the Doors of Fate
By Win Ma

I have always grown tired as a child for the obligations one has to endure for the benefit of the family; monotonous to the very end, each duty carves away a fragment of time from which frolicking and fun could have been substituted for instead.

If you are unlucky enough reprimanding from parents could as well be the equivalent, of eternal damnation. We are highschoolers after all! It seems sleep will only be the opportune moment for catching a getaway ride to the dormant paradise of dreams.
But today’s rest wasn’t entirely idle; it had something special to it.

And what were they?

Doors…

Take a look inside listener; among thousands of them envelop the realm of my subconscious persona. Each one has a story of its own, Look!

This one envisions me entranced, falling in young naive romance! So much the girl of my dreams. Yet what is there outside from where I stand, it is my family!

Now only shreds of torn memories from which I can never look up again! A silent scream splitting my brain!

Close it and open the next!

This one envisions me, clad in royal regalia with the entire world in the palm of my hand as I divulge into endless masses of riches. Jubilant as ever but now if I embrace this path how would it change me?

Would I turn into nothing but an arrogant slob only hidden from view because of these astronomical gains?

Now gaze to the door adjacent to that!

My face is now transformed! Aesthetically divine to the appeal of others, but tragedy will follow on this wish as well as crowds of men will wreathe in green envy, and gather in mobs to slaughter me!

Yes, these are the hopes and dreams we all have in our futures, what we crave for so most!

If you are so desperate I might as well let you see all of these doors for your amusement.

But the real question will forever remain, which path will you embrace?

As we get more photos, this slideshow will keep automatically updating!  So many great experiences!

I would like to take a moment to recognize this year’s “Odyssey Club” annual poetry contest winners. For the structured poetry category, in second place was Ticha Sethapakdi with her poem “Who Am I…?”, and in first place was Jam Kraprayoon with “Redemption”. For the unstructured category, coming in second place with his poem “A Hermit Crab’s Conformity” was Adam Yang, and taking first place with his poem, “I Long For Self Destruction” was Sam Simpson-Roswell.

Congratulations to these fine poets and to the number of HS students that submitted poems for our contest.

He went on to credit all the work of ISB’s faculty and community by saying,

… together we breed this environment of literacy and the courage to express inner thoughts and emotions through writing. The saying, “it takes a village to raise a child” seems to apply here, for it is a testament to everyone involved with our students that we received over 40 submissions for the contest this year. This speaks about the quality of our students and their artistic and intellectual courage. You all play a role in this.

Congratulations to the authors of all the over 40 submissions and particularly to the award winners.  Their poems are included below.

Redemption
by Jam Kraprayoon

I am
a culmination
of fifty two deaths
and thousands more scarred
born two years after a legacy marred
women and children, tortured, beaten, left in the sun
men soaked in gasoline and shot dead by guns
a long shadow cast, from Black May I cannot run
sins of fathers must be redeemed by sons
I feel
my homeland in stagnation
a hierarchy of greed and dark ambition
abused by degenerate cops and shameless politicians
choked by rampant bribery, corruption, and drugs
a land of smiles, left crying by thugs
partisan protests and to the south an onslaught
a revolution in words, but never in thought
We can be,
a realization
the first drop of rain, heralding a torrent of change
washing way, the block of May
for when the lust for power diminishes, Peace shall reign
and rise above social chaos and needless conflict
love will remain when there’s no hate left to inflict
alone, I doubt there will be sweet salvation
but to those touched by the kindle of
inspiration together, hand in
hand we will save this nation

Who am I…?
by TIicha Sethapakdi
What is an eye?
A portal to the soul?
Or a door to be opened
To a story left untold?

What is a face?
Some skin over bone?
Or a mask with a smile
Covering sorrows unshown?

What makes a hero?
Taking pain without tears?
Or protecting your loved ones,
Subduing all fears?

My eyes have seen sorrow,
Injustice, and pain.
And the occasional sunshine
That’s after the rain.

My face hides vile secrets
I’d rather not tell,
So I embrace all the good things
That make life less like Hell.

I am no hero.
I’m only a girl
Who’s searching for answers
To this life, this mad world.

I Long for Self Destruction
by Sam Simpson-Roswell

I live in a world,
Where even angels smoke cigarettes,
And drunkard devils dance in daylight amongst the faithful.
And I stand smiling, laughing, faithless, crying.
Alone.

In a world where wrong friends are right,
And we become devilled angels for another night.
Lights fade to black
And, Inconvenienced, I crawl back.
But just to a house, never to a home.

In a world,
Where I’m forever trying to find you on the lips of someone else
And where it’s hard to be the better man when I still lie to myself.
And despite my right wrong friends here, now and then,
They have always failed to put me back together again.

In a world where when the gods wish to punish us,
They answer our prayers.
Yet with prayers unanswered I am brought to my knees,
Faithlessly crying from memories I’ve been keeping.
Praying to no longer be where my love once lay sleeping.

A Hermit Crab’s Conformity
by Adam Yang

You can taste danger in proximity,
Hear the bubbly taunts of your enemy,
But you’re safe
Behind your rocky gates.
The walls that won’t allow,
Both dangers in and freedoms out,
Are shielding your vulnerability and hiding it within.
These are the benefits of your kin.
You’re restricted but you’re comfortable.
Protected from the formidable,
As you raise your defense and hide in the security
Of your camouflaged home, dripping obscurity.
You’re happy.

Poke your head out, and chance a peak.
Step out from your restricting clique.
You’re vulnerable,
With all your guts and vital organs exposed,
Like a gangster’s secret love of animals.
You’re terrified and desperate,
For you are the frailest of Neptune’s minions.
Overwhelmed by the looming shadows
Of giants in comparison.
Go on back into your protective cage.
Not everyone can be individuals.
You’re cursed to run from shell to shell
For a lifetime.

The students have welcomed connections made with other school photo and art students asking for comments on their posts and we invite you to do the same.  Check out the student blog links listed on the right hand side of the main class blog.

Feel free to leave a comment and give the students feedback.

And most of all, enjoy the powerful creative work of the ISB HS Photo students.

Or join us at the Ustream site to participate in a live chat with other ISB family and friends.

One facet of the week was to open the Film Competition which asked students to make a film highlighting some aspect of cyber-safety.  The submissions were great and have been posted here to share.

Congratulations to all film makers.  Hopefully the message will continue to get out in all forms to protect ourselves and how we are perceived online.

Winner:  Lisa Vongching

Honorable Mention:  Bhargavi Viswanath

The 2nd Annual Global Issues Network (GIN) Conference is being held right here at ISB this weekend.  Beginning on Friday and ending on Sunday, the conference brings over 300 participants to ISB from all around Asia to talk about solutions to global issues.

Sponsored by EARCOS, the GIN Conference allows students to offer workshops describing the globally minded service that they are addressing at their own schools.  Additionally, students here from keynote speakers on issues ranging from poverty to clean water and from animal protection to food distribution.  One particular highlight will be an alumni panel at which past-ISB students will share some of the positive change they are making in the world with the projects and organizations with which they work.

Finally, students will develop school action plans to continue their work as they look to the future and making a difference.

The theme of this year’s conference - as selected by our own GIN club - is “WE CAN.  WE WILL.”  This speaks to the empowerment of young people and the committment to positive change that they share.  The conference will be inspiring for so many as it highlights not only the problems that face our world, but also the young people who are committed to solving them.

Come have a look at the conference website and become a part of this focused network.

As I said to the students in the Monday morning assembly,

“for people who don’t know you as community-minded, friendly, focused students, your Faceboook profile IS who you are. So what would I think of you, if that’s the only information I had?”

This point particularly hit home in the context of how employers and universities are known to be checking online profiles and behavior before making hiring and acceptance decisions.  In my research preparing for the week, I came across results from a US News and World Report study that indicates that 33% of US universities are somewhat likely to revoke an admission if they become aware of inappropriate postings on the web.

In both the Monday assembly and in our smaller Thursday Comm Group sessions, students learned about the permanence of their online content.  Recently Facebook changed their Terms of Service so that user information belonged to Facebook, even after a user deleted their account.  After a great deal of uproar over this, Facebook reverted back to their previous agreement  But they will certainly look to return to their changes in the near future.

Discussions with students brought to light the need for them to better control who they are online.  Students considered the ethical implications of their own privacy as well as the impact that their online choices have on their choices for their futures and those of their friends.

It was a wonderful learning opportunity for most students and a necessary part of their education in the 21st Century.

All in all, a successful cyber-safety week.

But it doesn’t end there.

As part of the week’s focus on online safety, we are also conducting the 1st Annunal Cyber-Safety Film Competition.

Here are the contest guidelines:

• Films should be between 30 seconds and 2 minutes long
• They can focus on any facet of cyber-safety, including but not limited to, cyber-bullying, identity protection, who you are online, bullying via cell phones, or general cyber-safety.
• Entries should be submitted as either .mov, .wmv, .avi, or .mp4 files.
• Entries should be submitted to Mr. Harter in Ed Tech before 3 April.  No late submissions will be accepted.

For some examples of videos like this, check out YouTube.  Below are a few examples and embedded is the one shown at assembly - once it’s posted it’s out of your control.

• Talent Show
• Cyber-bullying - Kitchen
• Everyone knows your name
• Cyber Bullying - anyone can be a victim
  

Michael Thompson, Ph.D. is a consultant, author and psychologist specializing in children and families. He is the clinical consultant to The Belmont Hill School and has worked in more than five hundred schools across the United States, as well as in international schools in Central America, Europe and Asia.

He and his co-author, Dan Kindlon, wrote the New York Times best-selling book, Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys (Ballantine Books, 1999). He is the author of Speaking of Boys: Answers to the Most-Asked Questions About Raising Sons Ballantine, 2000), and co-author (with Catherine O’Neill Grace and Larry Cohen, Ph.D.) of Best Friends/Worst Enemies: Understanding the Social Worlds of Children (Ballantine, 2001) and Mom, They’re Teasing Me: Helping Your Child Solve Social Problems (Ballantine, 2002.) About Best Friends, Worst Enemies the Publishers Weekly review declared, “Not since Dr. Spock and Penelope Leach has there been such a sensitive and practical guide to raising healthy children.”

The Pressured Child: Helping Your Child Achieve Success in School and in Life (with Teresa Barker, Ballantine, 2004) was written to help parents understand the complex journey of children through school, from Kindergarten through senior year. His latest book, It’s a Boy!, is a comprehensive guide for the parents of boys.

A dedicated speaker and traveler, Michael Thompson has appeared on The Today Show, The Oprah Winfrey Show, ABC 20/20, CBS 60 Minutes, The Early Show and Good Morning America. He has been quoted in the New York Times, The Washington Post, Newsweek, Time and U.S. News and World Report and has been a guest on NPR’s “Morning Edition” with Susan Stamberg, “Talk of the Nation” with Ray Suarez and the Diane Rhem Show. He has written, narrated and hosts a two-hour PBS documentary entitled “Raising Cain” to be broadcast in January of 2006. Dr. Thompson is married to Dr. Theresa McNally, a psychotherapist specializing in adoption, and is the father of Joanna, 23, and Will, 18.

Dr. Thompson’s ISB Schedule

March 16th:

• 1:00pm - 2:15pm Parent Book Group with Michael Thompson
  • Location: Curriculum Office
  • Feb. 19: 12:00pm - 2:00pm Discussion Sessions
  • March 5: 12:00pm - 2:00pm Discussion Sessions
  • Reserve a spot via the ISB Curriculum Office. Contact porntipt[at]isb.ac.th for “Best Friends, Worst Enemies: Understanding the Social Lives of Children”
• 6:30pm - 8:00pm Raising Responsible Children
  • Community Presentation Chevron Theater

March 17th

• 7:00am - 8:30am The Pressured Child
  • Parent Breakfast
  • Web 2.0 Room in MS/HS Library
• 8:45am - 9:45am Going beyond fear in Parent Teacher Relationships
  • Web 2.0 Room in MS/HS Library

March 18th

• 7:00am - 8:30am The importance of Fathers in Childrens Lives
  • Father Breakfast
  • Web 2.0 Room in MS/HS Library