Synaptic

By Elizabeth Reinhardt ’24

Red and green bursts showered the night sky in watercolored streams, and the Earth rumbled like trembling hands on a snow globe. Between the thundered boom and lit matches, the air carried the distant chatter of teeth and sloshing liquid against aluminum. Burnt marshmallows and smoke swam through the mid-July air as I trekked across yesterday’s freshly mowed grass. Slouched in a dusty fold-out chair with drooped fabric, I smiled.

By Cory Fairbanks ’25

Una breve explicación: Este poema se basa en la idea que siempre estamos aprendiendo sobre nuestro mundo. He estudiado pedagogía secundaria y el español, y durante mis estudios en la universidad, he pasado dos semestres en el extranjero y he hecho dos viajes estudiantiles en Guatemala. Durante este tiempo, me interesaron mucho las espiritualidades indígenas latino americanas y las similitudes entre ellas aunque hay una gran distancia entre los grupos.

By Carter Piagentini ’25

My dad surprised me with a present one day. He drove up to the Amana Colonies to play Pokémon Go for the afternoon with some of his friends and before he left, he decided to stop at a little shop named The Noble Stone, a crystal and mineral store.

By Emma Murphy ’27

I sit batting my eyelashes which are disproportionately larger than my tiny head, as I swing my feet below the kitchen table trying to reach the floor. I had just turned five years old. Steam slowly rises from the handcrafted soup that sits in front of me. Smelling of basil and tomato, I blow on it with my cheeks puffed. I swirl my spoon around in circles trying to see how fast I can get the little chopped-up carrots to move before I can no longer resist and bring the soup to my mouth.

By Kayla Lindquist ’25

People often ask me what my favorite bird is. The question repulses me; how could I possibly just choose one? And yet I always answer: the Short-Eared Owl.

By Andrew Mahaffey ’28

In my CIV 110 course, I changed the historical “Soundtrack of My Life” paper into a video project. Students create their own soundtrack utilizing the music that illustrates the most meaningful moments of their lives thus far through song. They choose about five songs and then weave the soundtrack of their life together as narrator. Andrew’s creativity and professionalism shine through not just the editing process, but the overall journey he takes his viewers through as he depicts the many ways in which music delivers “pure joy and happiness” and “connects the whole world.”

By Kenyon Geetings ’24

In the field of botany, there exists a group of arboreal wonders that captivate both the scientist and the dreamer alike. Among these, the Salix babylonica, commonly known as the weeping willow, stands as an emblem of enchantment. Its scientific name, a poetic melody in itself, conceals a world of mystery and fascination waiting to be unveiled.

By Jessie Pospisil ’25

Mattress toppers have recently become my worst enemy. Mine in particular, has become more of a mattress slip-and-slide than a topper, and the worst part is that I can’t just take it off and chuck it out the window. I need it in order to find the slightest bit of comfort in my slim stack of a college mattress. The best part? My bed is bunked. Each morning, I wake up and slide straight off, tumble down the ladder, and bust the arches of my feet as I plunk to the floor.

By Carter Piagentini ’25

As a gay man, I started realizing the many ways sexuality affects my life when I noticed that others tended to use the word “gay” to describe me as if my identity and personhood are predicated on my sexuality. Not only did I find this word in others’ descriptions of me, but also in my descriptions of myself—after all, I even started this author’s note with “as a gay man.” Ultimately, whatever I’m described as, it will always be subsequent to the label “gay.”

By Allyna Inn

Home. If I had a penny every time my father said the word home, I’d be richer than Bill Gates. Although I am not speaking of the home he comes to after work every day. Not the ranch-style house in the south side of Des Moines, but his home–home in Cambodia where his work schedule would vary on the seasons and the birth rate of the cows.

By Mattie Francis ’23

I can’t tell where the plum tree used to be. The year before it died it produced a singular plum. My parents let me eat it. Juice dribbled down my arm and into my sweatshirt sleeve as I mouthed at the soft skin. Delicious. The next year, my dad was pulling its poor corpse out of the ground with a chain and his black pickup. When its roots came up covered in earth and its form laid stretched out on the ground, it looked like a woman reaching above her head.

By Peyton Bytnar ’24

The gun shot off and the smoke disappeared into the air. I was surrounded by hundreds of high school girls, all sprinting towards a narrow path that led into the woods. Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall. All of the 99 girls clumped into a blur around me, but I was able to keep a clear sight on one of them. My twin sister.

By Sarah Linde ’24

There is a forest behind my house, just north of Pella. It is not so much deep, as it is wide. A gentle circle of embrace curled around the homes of my neighbors and myself.

By Leslie Delgado

Alien Salamanders exist in Mexico. Curious? Well, this “alien salamander” is named the axolotl, or Ambystoma dumerilii, and has been a prized Mexican icon for centuries, but they are on the bridge to extinction.

By Kayla Lindquist ’25

My poem, “I Hope You Feel No Pain” is about a ten-thousand-year-old prairie that is at the risk of being destroyed. It is located about thirty minutes from my home so it’s something that stirs up a lot of emotion in me.

By Sarah Smith ’25

This poem is a dramatized version of a real event that happened in my life. I lost my serious boyfriend last year to suicide.

By Rachel Daniels

Attending high school in my small town was a privilege. Our teachers challenged us and repeatedly told us they were “preparing us for college.” At the time, the late nights and piles of homework were not something I appreciated—at all. However, after attending two different universities in my first year of college, I realized how blessed I was to grow up in a school district where students are cared for, challenged, and prepared for the academic journey that lies ahead, should they choose to pursue a degree beyond a high school diploma.

By Emma Clodfelter

Goths. You’ve probably seen them somewhere. They’re scattered across just about every country, higher concentrations congregating in some areas more than others. They’ve been around for over four decades, and no matter how their numbers may dwindle, regardless of how negatively the outside world may see them, they’re still alive and kicking and will continue to do so for a very long time.

By Sarah Behrens

This radio essay results in a story that warms our hearts by engaging the universal themes of music and family through old recordings and a voice that echoes in our imaginations long after the story is over.

By Allison Stuenkel '20

The short story “Recitatif” by Toni Morrison truly challenged the unconscious stereotypes I did not know I believed.

By Lauren McKee '22

I stood on the sidewalk where the warm Mexican sun greeted me. The air still held an edge of chilliness, enough that the shadows were cool to stand in. A line of enclosed motor taxis waited in the street to take us to the cemetery.

By Madaline Hucks '20

Adolescence is a time when both boys and girls are discovering themselves and interacting with their peers in new ways. First kisses and hand-holding are hallmarks of this time, and one’s first “puppy love” may take over their hormonal and dramatic selves. But what happens when this lovesick admiration goes wrong?

By Lauren Goeke '19

I vividly remember my trip to Alberta, Canada in the summer of 2018. The wheels touched down on the landing strip. I found myself in a foreign land where the landscape, people, and priorities were completely different from my home in St. Louis, Missouri—and different from the college I attend in Pella, Iowa.

By Delanie Donovan '19

The Irish Sea breeze blew my hair, tickling my face and ears as it danced in the wind and I swore I could taste the sea salt on my lips.

By Marin Harrington '21

I knew it was Katharine’s birthday the next day. I had been celebrating it for years, as she was of my closest friends, and one of the few left from high school I still communicated with now that we were dispersed across the United States at different colleges.

By K.E. Daft '19

A flickering red cardinal begins again his daily ritual, Hurtling his frail body against the plexiglas window Of the small church room where we hold rehearsal, At war with his own reflection.