For the past seven years of studying Creative Writing in school, I’ve never thought of myself as a poetry person. I’ve always connected more with fiction writers, like Rick Moody, George R.R. Martin, Khaled Hosseini, and Markus Zusak. I’ve always found more inspiration in their stories of suburban America, a fantasy world of thrones, children playing under a burning Afghan sun, and a young orphan learning to read in a basement in Germany. Through their stories, I’ve been able to find myself in the lines, discover facets of myself that I couldn’t uncover anywhere except through words. I’ve learned to weave my own stories, create characters that reeled me in and still haven’t let go, reach into my childhood and extract truths that I needed to express. I always thought that fiction held more truth than poetry.
Then this year happened.
I discovered that poetry was more central than I thought last year at the Dodge Poetry Festival, where poets like Nikki Finney, Taylor Mali, Patricia Smith, and Rachel McKibbens exploded my small world of understanding to smithereens. When I got home, I wrote pages and pages of poetry and told myself this is it, this is what being a poet is. Then I got stagnant. I forgot about intent and speaker and line breaks and poetry. I forgot everything, and when I returned to school I studied fiction, and got pulled back into the longer form of writing I’d always loved. Halfway through the year I switched to poetry, and the first lesson was essentially a slap in the face. We were to write on whether or not poetry was dead, and I didn’t know how to answer. I struggled with poetry through the first month or so, navigating this strange land of technique and style with the grace of a bull. I had no idea what I was doing. Then I wrote a poem exploring the myth of Medusa, and everything clicked. I connected to her pain, her ambition, her refusal to back down for what she wanted. From there on out, poetry and fiction equaled in truth. In Fiction, I can hide. I can spin stories that don’t clearly show myself in them. In Poetry, there is no shelter. Each poem is some extension of myself, some exploration of emotion and memory. Poetry and Fiction have become equal for me. Depending on what story I need to tell, I craft paragraphs or stanzas, but both show my identity in an equal light. Both are ways of telling my story, in whichever form that story needs to be told.

–Emily Cramer, Editor-in-Chief.

It flabbergasts me to realize this school year only has five more Mondays left. I can still recall my first day in Élan and the year was swollen with plethora of Mondays. Nerves and anxiety rattled my bones. It was the first day of my junior year and expectations were nothing short of homework filled nights and a restless sleep schedule. To make matters worse, I entered a class filled with mostly upperclassmen I had never spoken to. I teetered on the belief that the school year was going to be nothing to look forward to.
Flash forward a semester, Élan is preparing for the annual spring online launch. This half of the year, juniors are in foreground of leadership making decisions for the book. I see this as the time period where I really became comfortable with the staff. Staying after school for days on end allowed us to drop our filters and act as if no one else was the room. We all bonded over terrible jokes and our shared love for the production on the computer screens. This was where I stopped looking at myself as part of a staff, and instead as part of a literary family.
All year I have been especially nervous about the seniors leaving this magazine in our hands. Uncertainty of whether we all would be ready to take on the responsibility clouded my mind with paranoia. But witnessing the senior editors ask questions and reveal doubt made me realize otherwise. It’s okay if I don’t possess every parcel of knowledge needed to run a literary magazine. That isn’t possible for a single person to accomplish. We’re a team for a reason. Everyone withholds unique skill that when all brought together, creates the necessary ingredients to run Élan. This year alone, our class has totally flipped this magazine around and made more progress with branding our name than ever before. I can only imagine what all will occur next year.

–Mariah Abshire, Poetry Editor (& Assistant Editor-in-Chief)

1. Catch up on any missed assignments. Those zeros may not seem like they are hurting your grade, but the trick to feeling good about yourself is commitment and not leaving any loose ends.
2. Plug into the last few lessons of the year. I know you’re probably already accepted into college and got the score you wanted on the SAT, but that doesn’t mean you can give up now. Finish strong.
3. Don’t take this as an opportunity to skip school. Pretty soon, you won’t be required to sit through school for eight hours a day and you can suffer through it for just a little while longer.
4. Engage in conversation with your teachers. They are interested in what you plan on doing after graduation. They have become “substitute parents,” and in just a few short weeks you won’t see them every day. Thank them. Thank them even if you weren’t their biggest fan, because it takes a certain type of person to spend their weekdays with teenagers.
5. Take pictures. In a few years, these last memories will fade and you won’t remember who you sat with at lunch or what your style was. That’s the magic of pictures. They ignite those gray areas in your brain and will spark hours of conversation about the “old days.”
6. Go to your senior prom. Ladies, strap on those high heels that you can barely walk in and fix your hair until you feel beautiful. Guys, get that suit or tux ready. Try to have as much fun as possible so you have a story to tell your kids one day.
7. Attend all meetings and rehearsals about graduation. There will be many things to remember in the coming weeks and you don’t want to miss out on spending time with your senior class.
8. Spend as much time with your friends possible. School has made it convenient to spend numerous hours of the day with them, but make time to meet up after school or on the weekends. With the end of school comes the parting of ways. The friends you have now can carry you through the rest of your life. Confide in them. Go places with them. Listen to them. Laugh with them.
9. The morning of graduation, wake up knowing that after that day your life will be changed forever. You won’t be told to go to school, you won’t have busy work assignments to catch up on or have to wake up at the crack of dawn everyday. Spend that day in relaxation doing whatever makes you happy.
10. The night of graduation, put on that cap and gown with pride and let your parent’s take pictures of you. In their eyes, you are still the baby they held 18 years ago. Smile when your name is called and they hand you your diploma and try not to think about the possibility of tripping. Be proud of what you accomplished. Soak in the atmosphere. That will be the last time you will ever be in the same place with these people again.
11. Don’t be afraid to cry. In these last days, you may be upset thinking about how you will never do any of these things again. Cry because you are sad, but also cry because you are happy. This is a mile stone in your life and is just the beginning of so many firsts.

–Makenzie Fields, Submissions Editor.