Center Point High School - Pointer Yearbook (Center Point, IA)

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On the following pages is a collection of original writings from the 1972-73 Creative Writing Class. Creative Writing is a Language Arts elective course offered to students, grades 9-12. Creative Writing is a course in which students are able to express themselves freely in any one of three media: poetry, short stories, and plays. Since this freedom of expression is the prime purpose, instruc- tion is limited to directing students toward subject matter for writing. Students in Creative Writing are encouraged to write on a personal level. Thus, much of their writing is a comment upon the social scene and upon life around them. It is hoped that by focusing on that with which they are familiar, they will come to a better understanding of themselves and the world they live in. The original art accompanying some of the writing is a contribution from the high school art classes. The art media included are India ink and felt tip markers. The work was done by Carolyn Kadlec, Kathy Stauffer, Marcia Atwater, Laury Bauserman, James Hollenbeck, Terry Nielsen, and Sharon Mader. We hope that this section will offer a bit of wisdom, a bit of humor, and a bit of solemnity, but most of all we hope that it increases your awareness of the students at Center Point - their imagination and their talent. May their writing serve as a guide for a better understanding of yourself and others, as well as the world you live in. Creative Writing Students . . Write On The Creative Writing students, as pictured above, are: Kathy McNeal along with their sponsor Mrs. Whitehead. Not pictured is Stauffer, Jody Ashlock, Judy Bauserman, Debbie Andrews, James Cindy Bauserman. Hollenbeck, Robin Burrell, Sue Lown, Julie Hannen, and Gary

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Seniors Have Last Fling Before Taking The Next Big Step t. as After a long, hard four years of fund raising, the seniors finally made it. ln the morning after gradua- tion at 4:00 they took off on their trip to Washington D.C. Most of the time was spent touring many in- teresting places. Among these were Williamsburg, Virginia Beach, and Gettysburg. After arriving in Washington the graduates were kept busy sightseeing. Some of those sights taken in were the White House, the Capital, the FBI building, and Arlington Cemetery. Although it rained every day the seniors kept things exciting and made their last days together something to remember.

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DAY'S END Kathy Stauffer The bright orange red sun sunk farther and farther into the horizon. The sky looked as if it had burst into flames. The mild breeze which was blowing caused the lake waters to rush to shore in small waves. The sound of the waters lapping against the rocks was like a drummer beating in a uniformed rhythm. The smell in the air was fresh as if the world had just been bathed. Peace was in hand. ,ff lrl this l THE TREE Sue Lown As majestic as the holy king sitting upright Towering over the grass, protecting it with his gathered arms. Needing to reach out and take in, Yet being content with his findings, needing nothing more. Casting an eerie shadow on this magnificent flower of the earth. The sun is going down leaving his holy majesty to rest until morning awakens the earth. I WISH Julie Hannen I wish the earth would open up and let me become a real part of nature. Nature is so natural and easy to get along with I would nudge the spring flowers And summer grass up through the soft, moist earth. CHANGING SEASONS Cindy Bauserman I used to sit each night and watch its small green clusters of leaves catch the evening breeze as the light from the yardlight danced upon them in changing patterns. For hours I would sit in con- templating. My hostilities and sorrows fell with its leaves in the autumn, soon to be buried and forgotten under a blanket of fresh whiteness. I grew strong and hoped with it in the spring as it burst into new life. I talked to it in unspoken language, and it answered me in smooth soft whispers in the wind. It was my friend and consola- tion. Now I sit and stare at its bare, lifeless body. They have wrenched out its arms. Broken fingers lay scattered on the ground. MEMORIES Kathy Stauffer . . . I love you, too. It will be great this summer when we are married. Remember, only two children of our own, but we'll adopt at least six. We will live on a farm with lots of space, trees, and flowers. My mama is welcome anytime as long as she doesn't stay longer than three days at a time . . . I remember this conversation well. He and I, the only ones that mattered. But now I am alone. He took that big bird overseas, dress- ed in full uniform and returned in a box. THE CROSS Rich Heitman I feel it against my chest, It lays there to rest The chain which makes it hold Is shiny and a little cold. The cross is what it is. He died on it, it's His. But right now it's on my chest I can feel it where it's pressed. It's cold and gold and a little small, But with it on, I feel real tall. It will stay on my neck forever, To take it off, I would never For it means the love so trueg His love for me, His love for you. MY VISIT J ullie Hannen Eight or ten old women in a half-circle, watching a portable T.V. Each eye turns our way as we enter, eyes starved for understanding. They look at the goodies we bring. My friend takes some to her great- grandmother, and kneels at her side. Do you remember me, Grand- ma? Those eyes! I shall never forget them. Filled with a lost look, a vaguely remembering look, starting to form tears. UTO PIA Cindy Bauserman A cool fresh breeze blows across my face, caressed by the warm, gentle fingers of the sun. The trees bow around me as they lazily bend in the afternoon. Cool refreshing rushes of the stream surround my feet as I drag them through drops that have once touched unseen places. The stream talks to me as it follows its unending, unchanging path through life.