Hailey Petersen and Sylvia Nicholas-Patterson were both awarded the highest honor in the 2021 Scholastic Awards: the Gold Medal Portfolio Award! Keep reading to learn more about them and to view some of their winning works.

Art is Hailey’s anchor, and making art helps her “focus on a subject for a period of time.” Hailey states that “[a]rt has given me so much freedom to share who I am and what I stand for . . . Art has helped me through my anxiety, choosing a career choice, giving me opportunities, and it makes me stand out from others in my own way.” As a beginning writer, Sylvia was apprehensive about putting words to paper—she worried that her voice wasn’t strong enough. But through her own determination to succeed and the support of her teachers and peers, Sylvia was able to push through her fears. As Sylvia explains, “Fear of failure unlatched from my ankles and allowed me to continue producing work I love.”

Hailey Petersen

“Each work in the portfolio has an issue that occurs, and how the person in the comic will face that issue. The issues range from a small issue like a dog that is left out in the winter snow, to a bigger issue like dealing with depression and mental illnesses. The goal of this portfolio is to have the viewer experience what the characters in the comics are feeling, and to give the viewer another viewpoint on mental illnesses and the issues that some people go through . . . Each comic has its main character that is facing an issue, and though their issues may be similar, they face them in their own way.”

Sylvia Nicholas-Patterson

“I compiled my portfolio from a collection I’ve written over the past four months. My poetry tends to align with my personal thoughts and experiences. As opposed to writing to relieve my pain, I aim to understand it. Adolescence comes with its own array of heartbreaks, failures, and setbacks. Putting those onto paper not only allows me to separate myself from certain events but to process my emotions as they occur. I want my poems to elucidate my experiences with being a queer, black, girl living in America. I want people to see my family and the community I was raised in through the eyes of someone like me—someone still learning, still adapting. I went out of my way to incorporate some AAVE (either through sudden line breaks and vocabulary) as well as topics I’m passionate about. Handing this in, I’m most worried about the delivery. Will people tear up over the same lines I did while writing? Did I do justice to a particular subject? I, however, will remain satisfied with this portfolio for many years to come.”

Exulansis

Sylvia Nicholas-Patterson, Poetry. Grade 12, Harrison School for the Arts, Lakeland, FL. Gold Medal Portfolio, The Maurice R. Robinson Fund Writing Portfolio

Dear Heavenly Father—
I am the unused prayer necklace
draping on my neck and chiming against my ribcage.
Its song eats away at all auditory senses,
fills my ears once the pastor starts hymns.
I recite my own.

After three Sabbaths, I’ve earned the attention of
a carping old woman three pews behind.
Last week, it was seven.
I wonder how much she knows, or wants to know, 
or wants to tear out of me,
or if playing Christian girl feels the same as committing.
I feel her shaky breath instead.

The pastor’s hands tremble as the congregation follows.
There’s no prayer before communion.
I’m in the nursery now.
we come today to thank you for this blessed Sabbath morning.

The pastor plunges my feet in a tub of vinegar.
My head whips back, nails dissolve, and I feel like filth—
primitive, ungrateful, unholy, filth.
A sob lurches from the back of my throat,
I recite my hymn and count the seconds till she arrives.

The woman appears, stroking my hair and holding me still.
She is beautiful and pious and all things good,
but her words, meant to wound, ignite my pride:
“You’ve been redeemed by the blood of the lamb.”
The chalkboard etches after her, screaming each word of the song.
The pastor’s hands tremble and I do too.
A final sob rings out.
We ask that you bless the children, the young and old,

Back in the sanctuary, my body collapses into a pew,
my necklace heats up from the stress.
I don’t expect it to chime again.
A deacon shoves crackers and a cup of wine in my hands.
A small ounce of rebellion keeps me from advancing.
I don’t want to eat. I won’t eat.
I lift my head to an empty nave.
I face the pastor alone.

He pins me down,
his nails leave indents in my wrists, break skin.
He’s crying. 
The woman shoves crackers and wine down my throat,
and for the first time the light is tangible.
I want to kiss its warm glow,
bask in the chimes and the heat and the peace—
but the deacon presses my lips shut and my diaphragm bursts into flames.
The pastor is crying,
the woman is singing,
my necklace burns,
the hymns, the hymns—
I’ve been redeemed
by the blood of the lamb—
and allow us to partake in your daily bread.

The woman cups my face for the last time
and stares at the corpse before her.
Her thoughts, however, never move to her lips.
She mutters a shaky amen before setting me down.
Amen. Our silent vow to each other.
Yet he knows, they know, I know.
I no longer have the courage to recite my hymns.
In your son Jesus’ name we pray,
Amen.

Featured image: Hailey Petersen, Public Schools, Comic Art. Grade 12, Perpich Center for Arts Education, Ramsey, MN. Gold Medal Portfolio, The Harry and Betty Quadracci Art Portfolio

To see more Gold Medal Portfolio recipients, past and present, visit our Eyes on the Prize series.