High school students stand out in writing contest

High school students displayed their story-writing chops in a first-ever Common Core writing competition among 10th-graders in the Newport-Mesa Unified School District.

Winners were announced in a ceremony last week. Hannah Schoenbaum’s story, “Nature’s Teachings,” took first place. (Read it below.)

“I just used all the writing skills that I learned from my journalism class at CdM and I just did my best work,” Hannah, who attends Corona del Mar High School, said in an interview on YouTube.

Schoenbaum chose as her inspiration the first line of the story “Under the Rug,” by Harris Burdick. The story begins: “Two weeks passed, and it happened again.”

“I loved this line because it could really be used asthe introduction to any story,” Schoenbaum, 15, said. “It was so vague and mysterious that it made the reader crave more information.”

Other winners included Danielle Tolsma from Corona del Mar high, who took second place for the short story “The Jam Jar;” Haley Cohen, also from Corona del Mar high, who placed third with “Gray Flakes;” Gillian Gonzales of Costa Mesa High School, whose short story “Contact” took fourth; and Bryanna Perez of Estancia High School, who won fifth place for her personal narrative “Four Years Apart.”

A Kindle Fire HD went to the first-place winner. Other winners received Barnes & Noble gift cards. All five will be recognized at a school board meeting next month.

The assignment, the brainchild of district English/language arts teachers, was derived from Common Core standards that call for ninth- and 10th-grade students to reproduce narrative elements.

Teachers asked 10th-graders to write either fictional stories or personal narratives.The winners were chosen out of more than 50 entries submitted by five participating high schools.

Entries went through three stages of readings, beginning with English teachers and moving through two rounds of scoring by district personnel. All readings were done with identifying information removed.

More information about Common Core standards is available at nmusd.us.

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Winning story

Hannah Schoenbaum’s story, “Nature’s Teachings,” which took first place in the 10th-grade Common Core writing competition in the Newport-Mesa Unified School District:

Two weeks passed, and it happened again. I witnessed the same uncontrollable quivering of his furrowed brow, followed by sudden muscle spasms. Every bone in his body trembled like buildings in an earthquake. His stomach undulated, performing painful contortions. Beads of sticky sweat dampened his forehead. His right eye twitched to the beat of his palpitating heart.

He attempted to swallow, which proved too difficult for his parched tongue. Wanting to scream and cry, he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His brain had given up on him, like so many times before, leaving him feeling hopeless. This time, he had let fear get the best of him.

Derrick’s self-confidence was swept away like a feeble tree in a storm.

Derrick had attempted to deliver his speech on “acceptance” to his high school English class once before, but it ended the same way. He could never get through the first sentence.

“I th-think it’s im-important to accept ...” Derrick stuttered. He couldn’t speak another word before the panic consumed him.

I watched the introverted teenager from my usual spot outside his classroom window. His slumped posture, awkward physique and matted brown hair indicated to me that he had not slept in days.

Derrick was the type of kid who always felt out of place. He was a resident of his own imagination, a young daydreamer who wished to be someplace else. With the use of his creativity and superb artistic abilities, Derrick made his ideal world come to life through his drawings.

Some days, he would sit beside me after class. I’d look down on the boy as he drew exquisite sketches in his leather-bound notebook titled “Pictures of My Happy Place.” Lately, he had been busy at work on a sketch that he called “Forest.” The magnificent landscape came to life on the page. Majestic birds confidently soared through the skies. A stream of water trickled down the page, rippling with each new thought that popped into his head.

I watched in awe as new life sprouted from the mind of this dying spirit. For the first time, I noticed something within Derrick that I had never seen before: passion. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

I heard the school bell sound and watched as kids flooded out the doors. Winter break had begun, and not a minute was to be wasted. The campus was deserted within a matter of minutes, except for the one boy who stayed behind.

“Derrick,” his teacher said calmly, “I know how difficult this must be for you, but you’ll thank me someday for pushing you so hard. I’m going to give you one more chance to deliver your speech. Be prepared to present as soon as we return from the break.”

“Yes, Miss,” he muttered to his shoes.

Unlike many of his classmates, Derrick had no friends or relatives to visit during the break. He stayed in his hometown of Williamstown, Massachusetts. It was a petite town with a single street of shops. A large portion of the town was covered in farmland and spectacular nature trails. Derrick enjoyed living in the quiet town, but after fifteen years, he had nearly run out of interesting sights to draw.

Derrick decided to spend his break working on his “Forest” drawing. He told me that it was my turn to model for his picture. “It wouldn’t be the perfect forest without you,” he told me.

The feeling of belonging I experienced when Derrick welcomed me into his happy place filled me with warmth on that freezing winter morning.

Every day, he would return to the schoolyard, sketchbook and pencil in hand, ready to draw his artistic representation of me.

He could’ve chosen any other tree to draw. I was the puniest in the yard, only a foot in diameter, with branches as frail as chopsticks, but Derrick saw me in a different light. He drew me, standing tall and proud, as if I were the tallest tree in the schoolyard. Though my leaves were wilting and turning a mucky shade of brown, he drew them crisp and green. He said I brought life to the dying “forest” that was our town, but in truth, I felt just as dead as the rest of the trees. He told me I embodied everything that was good about life, everything he dreamed to be. Derrick wished to be content with his personality and appearance, “just like you,” he said. I only wish it were true.

He came to visit me every day. My leaves illuminated, flashing with jubilant oranges and yellows when I spotted him from across the field. Each day, he restored my confidence even more, making me feel alive and ready to face the harsh storms to come. I only wished I could’ve done the same for Derrick.

One day, Derrick didn’t come to visit me. I started to worry about him, while he sat at home, worrying about me. A brutal blizzard was approaching, with stronger winds than ever before, but with my newfound confidence, I was ready to face anything that came my way.

Before I knew it, the air had turned to ice, gashing my trunk with violent gusts of wind. The frost swarmed around me as I quivered uncontrollably. Every branch in my body trembled as my roots gripped the soil tightly. My brown leaves, which I now pictured as a vivacious green, were swept away. Negative thoughts started to consume me. “Look at that weak little shrub,” the children used to say.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hang on, but then I remembered Derrick. He never cared about how I looked on the outside. He brought my inner strength to the surface and taught me that if I accepted myself for who I was, I could do anything I put my mind to. With one final burst of energy, I let my inner strength take control. I dug in deeper than ever before.

Within an hour, the storm had passed, leaving the town covered in a thick white blanket. I had a few broken branches here and there, but I was a survivor. I saw Derrick running through the field of snow in my direction. I expected him to be upset by my hideous condition because he still needed me to pose for his drawing, but, to my surprise, he was grinning from ear to ear. He told me that I looked even stronger than before and he was happy to draw me just the way I was.

I was left with a few battle scars, but the storm had passed, like all storms did. Derrick helped me through my storm. I hoped I had done enough to help him through his.

Two days later, school started back up again. Derrick stood in the same place he had, just two weeks before. I stood in my usual spot outside his classroom window. Legs trembling and hands sweating, he opened his mouth to speak.

“I th-think it’s im-important to accept ...” he stuttered.

Just then, Derrick dug in deeper than ever before. He cleared his throat, took one final glance out the window to make sure I was there watching him, and said, “I think it’s important to accept ... yourself.”

Drowned out by applause from his teacher and classmates, he got no further.

Just then, the sun burst through the clouds, illuminating the classroom with a dazzling ray of light. The storm had passed, like all storms did, and Derrick was a survivor.