Jen Brown

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Students step back in time

Posted: Thursday, October 15, 2015

Mrs. Seeley's students have created these interpretations of history.  Special thanks to the Wexford County Historical Society for their generous support of Cadillac Students.  This project has provided enrichment to their experience as authors through the abundant history of the Cadillac Area.

History is Inevitable - Cassady Guest, 12th Grade

A man guards these halls of knowledge that is waiting to escape.
I can hear the walls whisper with the secrets of the past,
But as I wander upon all of this old stuff,
I am left to ponder,
will there be much more?

History then and history now are two very different things,
one with things to cherish and one with things to bring.
But amongst all of this old junk are memories to hold,
but also many many stories forgotten and untold.
Like what happened after that young lady caped her bright red lipstick,
or how many knees fell victim to that rickety bike.
How many children cried while clutching that old doll,
or came running when they heard the school bell’s call?
How many souls trusted their entire life savings to the old bank,
or fretted over the doctors scary ether tank?

The Indians and loggers knew the importance of history, for without it, life would surely be a mystery.
But as the years go by and as I think all to myself,
I wonder how much these dusty treasures must have meant to someone else.

To you it might be dusty, but to us it is great,
the past is something to forever love and never come to hate.
History is inevitable, just as well as life,
just think of how different this place would be, if these treasures did not come to be.
what if it had simply been thrown away?
But as I look around, I am so very glad it made it through another great day.

My Best Friend - Brieanne Hoffman, 10th grade

Walking into the museum again was like walking into a new world of old. I see my younger self, clad in a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. I was in the museum's convenience store with my best friend, Jasmine Reed. We were in second and third grade at the time. Being the oldest, I led the way. But what she didn't know was that I did not lead the way for myself; even then I had the overpowering desire to protect her. Even though I was young, I was so old. I knew how horrible life could be especially if you were different. I watched her smile as we ran to the basement to hear the curator, Richard, tell us the story about the teacher’s one room schoolhouse. Then we ran back to the light shining down from the window roof above us. Jasmine’s laughter drifts to me as light and as happy as a spring shower. Her happiness was/is the only thing that mattered to me. What I didn't know at the time was that she would be moving at the end of the year to Texas. As I look back with a good kind of sadness, I know she was happy for awhile with me and I with her. I want to thank the curator of the museum, Richard, for letting us visit and for letting me remember why this world is beautiful. There is history behind even the smallest things...a lost earring, a single rose petal and yes, even your best friend’s smile. 

The Museum - Haley Swiger, 10th grade

Fallen leaves crunch under wandering feet,
Feet with their own mind, searching for a place
With limestone steps sunk into the grass,
Hardened from a long-lost era of grace.

Of dust swirling in chinks of liquid sun
As the heavens pour straight through the glass,
Which is warped by welcome imperfections
Reflecting tiny threads of brass

A place where time holds no power
And old books, stiff with the years
Are read aloud to countless crowds,
Their words ambrosia for hungry, yearning ears.

With musty old air
That seeps into everything
And the record spins, the pin gliding on grooves,
Projecting the sound of choirs trying to sing.

Where the tall, gilded pillars,
With solemn faces from harder days
Hold up the building for all to enter,
Steadfast in the autumn haze.

Along with postcards of glorious life
With flowers lining a lane,
Of horrific winter scenes with ice-frosted trees
And the promise of further rain.

Where beauty is ageless,
And the clock holds no throne,
Of times long forgotten, a path, tread and sodden,
With two small feet walking . . . alone.

Limited but Limitless - Mercedez Hesling, 10th grade
We were limited
With only what we were given.
We were limitless
To explore anywhere
And everywhere
To touch
What we wanted.
To hold
What we felt necessary.
We were told to be careful
And to be kind.
To experience our past.
While meeting our ancestors.
We made our own history,
That day in the museum.
High schoolers of different ages,
Witnessing different cultures.
We are limited
But limitless.