Category: Student Work

  • Virtual Poetry

    Virtual Poetry

    Virtual Poetry

    By: Daniel Tyx

    Like schools all over the world, MFS made the transition to online school for the last quarter due to the coronavirus. It was a difficult time for everyone, as we found ourselves learning and teaching in front of computer screens, instead of surrounded by our community of friends, teachers, students, and colleagues. 

    As part of our online curriculum, my 7/8 and 11/12 English classes studied poetry as a way to process all of the changes happening around us. We read poems about dealing with isolation and finding strength in hard times, and shared our own responses and experiences. We also tried our hand at writing our own poems. 

    To my surprise, many of these poems were not concerned primarily with isolation or anxiety, but rather with seeking connections–with forests and farms, with friends and loved ones, and with the world beyond Montverde. Even though they were written at home, outside of the physical space of school, they reminded me that at this moment more than ever we are joined together in one family as a school, community, country, and world. 

    Here are just a few of the poems that were written by students during online school: 

    Old Tree

    If you’re confused 

    and can’t decide on what to do

    just go to the old tree

    and lay under its branches.

    Soak up all of the wisdom

    that it’s willing to share with you.

    But you must be patient. 

    Only then

    everything will slowly,

    but surely,

    fall into place.


    Ashanti Silvey
    11th grade

    Changes

    Winter arrives 

    and everything changes. 

    The breeze is fresh, 

    coming from far horizons 

    on the landscape which

    shape-shifts before my eyes. 

    The birds let forth 

    their tune of happiness,

    cicadas sprinkle the air 

    with acoustical stardust. 

    The wet blanket of grass 

    calls for a cup of coffee, 

    for looking out through windows from my bed. 

    Every leaf and cell swells with rain, and

    green is greener,

    love is clearer,

    a glassy and lucid vision 

    for a new lap around the sun. 


    Charlotte Ottenberg
    12th grade

    The Cloud Forest Is My Mother 

    I say feed me.

    She gives me yellow maracuya on a beautiful green vine.

    I say tease me.

    She directs sun rays onto my skin.

    I say frighten me.

    She unleashes all her wildly beasts.

    I say hold me.

    She wraps me in tangly vines.

    I say heal me.

    She fills my lungs with the scent of fresh air.

    I say caress me.

    She strokes my skin with her gust of cold wind.

    I say make me beautiful.

    She gives me wonderful orchids.

    I say sing to me.

    She chants her lovely lullabies.

    I say teach me.

    She shows me the rain, clouds, and the sun.

    El bosque nuboso es mi madre.

    The cloud forest is my mother.

    El bosque es mi madre preciosa.


    Jackson Kalahanohano Smith
    8th grade

  • Tara’s Dream

    Tara’s Dream

    As Tara Bertrand Hein completes grade 11 and plans for her future, she reflects on our school, our world and her future contributions to it with a bravery and vision that epitomizes the vision and mission of our school.  If you remember her blog post (here) after Tropical Storm Nate, you already know this young woman’s passion and drive, and know that you will enjoy every word of her post today.

    As my fingers fly across the keyboard, my eyes flicker back and forth between the swaying trees outside and one of Gandhi’s most famous quotes scrolled across the classroom wall. An innate sense of peace fills the room, and a cool breeze ruffles through torn out notebook pages on the table. Sweet familiar notes of Manu Chao’s “Bongo Bong” tickle my ears and drift out the open window. My mouth begins to water at the thought of a warm cup of coffee from the local coffee shop just down the road. Although this is only another Monday afternoon to me, I am in awe of this way of life. “Surrounded by nature, supported by love” is how the Monteverde Friends School describes itself, and, to me, this phrase also describes my childhood. I spent my summer vacations horseback-riding along the Tilaran mountain range, I spent warm March afternoons on strangler fig trees with my classmates, reading “Magic Tree House” books, or, my personal favorite at the time, “Because of Winn-Dixie”, I learned how to make recycled paper, and sang songs of peace in preparation for Wednesday meeting. Surrounded by nature, supported by love. I grew up guided by the January winds, sheltered by the tall trees and their epiphytes, taught by capuchin monkeys dancing through the canopy.

    As it turns out, the Monteverde Friends School did more than teach me to read and write. A while ago a group of students from a Mennonite high school in Canada came to spend the day with us. It just so happened that they were there on a Wednesday, and were able to join us for meeting. On that day, students across the USA were walking out of their classrooms, and having 17 minutes of silence in which they honored and remembered the lives lost in the Parkland Shooting in Florida. In light of this, a student from our school had written a poem, which she chose to share during our gathering. She stood up, with glassy eyes, and shared incredibly powerful words that spoke to the fear of being shot whilst sitting in a classroom. The irony was clear. We could hardly be in a more peaceful place on Earth in that moment, and yet, in the seconds in which she read the poem, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Throughout the 45 minute meeting, several more inspirational messages were shared. A woman visiting us from Honduras spoke about the terror many people in her country were experiencing at the hands of their government. She asked us to hold them in the light, as children, women, and men, were fighting for their lives. The last message was perhaps the most powerful of them all; it spoke of an event that had touched the lives of several people within the room. Telling the story of a bank robbery that had taken place 13 years ago in Monteverde itself, the message showed a new perspective. This event is considered one of the bloodiest in Costa Rica’s history, and this message spoke for the attacker. His brother had been killed, and his own fear and grief drove him mad, and causing him to open fire in the bank atrium. After meeting, most students went out into the sunshine to hold the silence for another 17 minutes, in memory of the deaths that took place due to the Parkland Shooting, joining thousands in the USA in solidarity.

    I was amazed by this morning, and wondered what the students of the Mennonite high school thought of our school. I realized that this what that morning witnessed wasn’t even that abnormal. The Monteverde Friend School is unarguably a small gem shielded from the world by the fog that hangs over the Monteverde Cloud Forest, and the two oceans that kiss Costa Rica on both shores. And yet, this school is in no way ignorant about the realities taking place out of this shelter. Constantly in my education have I been taught about the world beyond this bubble, about the cruelty and sorrow that so many endure. How can I sit here in this classroom, reading the quotes about peace on the wall, watching the trees sway, when I know that around the world children look through garbage to find food? When I know that a mother cries because her child was taken in war? When I know that a girl will never be able to do what her brother does? It is not right. It is not normal.

    The wall in this very classroom is home to another quote, this one was not said by Gandhi, but by Mary Oliver; and, perhaps, none could be more fitting for this piece of writing, it reads, “Tell me what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.”  It is because of my education, and the way I grew up that I want to do more in this world than simply lead my life for me. I believe that every child should have the chance to grow up safely, happily, and loved, the way I did. It is this fundamental belief that is the fuel behind my ambitions.

    When people ask me what I want to study, I answer, “International Law.”  And they? They don’t know what to answer. They vaguely ask, “you want to be a lawyer?”

    No. I do not want to be a lawyer. I want to understand why society works the way it does, I want to understand why it is that some children never set foot in a classroom while their governments pour billions of dollars into weaponry, I want to understand why a woman only earns 77 cents for every dollar earned by a man. I want to dedicate my one wild and precious life to working to change these realities.

    There is a program I will attend this summer, Cambridge Immerse Law, in the UK that is a big step to achieving this goal. This program allows students to live at the University of Cambridge for two weeks. During this time students receive law courses from Cambridge tutors in the mornings -these take place in the form of lectures or seminars. In the afternoon, small personalized workshops take place -these include a visit to Cambridge Magistrates’ Court, and a chance to observe barristers presenting legal cases. Additionally, the course offers students a chance to work on their personal statements (admissions essays) as well as their interview skills, and preparation for the National Law Admissions Test. This program is a chance for me to experience undergraduate life at one of the world’s best universities. It would prepare me for my own studies next year by taking university level law courses, and helping me strengthen my application. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me that would take me a big step closer to achieving my goals. Your support will help me enroll in this program. Please check out my GoFundMe campaign, every small donation helps!
    https://www.gofundme.com/lawsummerschool

  • The mountain shivered

    The mountain shivered

    A series of poetry/storywriting seminars led by Joe Heithaus (who recently wrote the New York Times article about Monteverde) let writers from ages 13 to 83 stretch and bare our souls.  We produced some pretty good stuff, but none better than this perspective on the road-building happening right now between Monteverde and Guacimal, by grade 8 student Monica (with photos from grade 10 student Galen):

    The mountain shivered with the weight of the monsters
    1,2,3
    They picked its tiny dust particles and threw them to the side
    7,8,9
    They plowed into its body
    11,12,13
    Taking its guts and discarding them
    15,16,17
    Grupo Orosi

    The fields at the sides tainted red
    The sun laying its blanket over them
    All witnessing the crime against the poor earth
    Careless groups of rocks spilled around the organs

    Giant scalpels cutting through our dirt
    Our mountain crumbles
    It has left her naked
    The cold stuck to the bone
    The homicide has left the skeleton

    The sun mourns for its daughter, hiding against her sisters
    The clouds hug its tears away
    The cicadas sing a goodbye melody
    The wind leaves flowers for it
    A last breath for our mountain

  • Nobel Peace Prize Project

    Nobel Peace Prize Project

    Did Obama deserve a Nobel Peace prize? “Maybe yes, but it was premature,” answers Chris. Chris and his grade 5/6 classmates in Spanish class each chose a prize winner to research and present. Each was passionate and informed in their written and verbal presentations – great conversations were to be had throughout the meeting house.

  • 17 Minutes of Solidarity

    17 Minutes of Solidarity

    I cried today, for the first time since the Florida shooting, thanks to the brave and compassionate students of Monteverde Friends School. They organized a sit-in, during their recess break, for 17 minutes – one for each student and teacher who lost their lives.

    Knowing that some students would still be playing soccer and games during recess, I had suggested using the cemetery for a peaceful, quiet place of reflection. But the students decided that the basketball court would be better – they wanted everyone to witness this act of solidarity. So it was that we sat quietly amidst the screams and laughter of other children playing – a strangely-appropriate way to establish context and balance.

    I cried as our Head of School read the names and ages of each of the 17 students and teachers who lost their lives.
    I cried just thinking how it would feel if any of the young people in our circle experienced this fear or tragedy.
    I cried for all the young people in the US and many places in the world who go to school and live their lives in fear.

    Then I cried for the strength and hope of our Costa Rican and foreign students who organized this sit-in. They care. They get it. They know it could be them, and that it shouldn’t be anyone. They know that their silence, woven together with the silence of students doing the same thing in thousands of other schools, would speak eloquently and powerfully. They believe. And their belief gave me hope.

    Here in Monteverde we have earthquake drills instead of lock-down drills. Puma safety talks instead of stranger-danger talks. Our students come to school not worried about weapons or violence – they come to learn, to play, to enjoy each other. Of course there are conflicts and growing pains, but the natural ones, the ones that are part of learning. Our children are leading the free, open life and school experience that children everywhere deserve.