Central Piedmont Archives: Projects

"Little Light"

A single flame, flickering in the wind

Lighting the way to a brighter future.

An ember, so bright so beautifully

So strong, yet fragile as a silence.

Swaying back and forth in the wind

Illuminating the darkness of uncertainty.

Casting shadows, the spark only grows 

Brilliant burn, dismissing the abyss.

Fragile breezes turn to hurricanes

Violent winds pushing the small light.

Flickering and burning, the flame fights

Burn bright, little light. 

Until it burns out.

"May Day at Mecklenburg College"

Yvonne

I was so excited to attend May Day at my college. It marked the end of the semester and the beginning of Spring! Everybody would put on their finest threads and come together to celebrate and commemorate this time. All morning the birds were singing, and I could smell the fresh scent of the roses from the rosebush Grandmother had planted drifting right through my open window. Curtains blowing in the breeze I stretched my arms up high as I sat on the edge of my bed and slipped on my pink bunny house slippers. I stood up and walked over to my closet. I had to take another glance at my beautiful dress that Grandmother had ordered for me. It was sent C.O.D. (cash on delivery) from Sears. I’m such a girlie girl and I love to dress up and put on makeup and do my hair. The May Day definitely gave me an excuse to do all of those things.  I am kind of nervous now that I decided not to bring a date, but my best friend Marian reassured me that use going together would be the best option. I am sure we will have a great time; Marian is the life of any party! I’d better go clean the kitchen and start getting ready for this evening! I hate rushing so I better get an early start.

Donald

I do not really know what I was thinking agreeing to go to the May Day Celebration with Lily. I really like her a lot and I hope to ask her to go steady with me, but I absolutely hate gatherings like this. I guess I just didn’t want to disappoint her. I don’t really like large crowds. People expect you to dance and smile, and mingle. Not my cup of tea. But Lily has the prettiest smile and I couldn’t tell her no. The lengths a man will go to just to please the one he is in love with. Did I just say that? I cannot tell Lily that, it might scare her away. I pressed my suit last night. Now I am thinking I probably should have bought a new one. You know, to impress Lily of course. Then again she is not is not superficial like that. That is just another one of the many reasons why she is so special to me. I better start getting ready, I can’t be late picking her up. It will be my first time meeting her family and I want to make a good impression.

Yvonne McKay and Donald Morrison, King and Queen of Homecoming for Mecklenburg College, 1960. Mecklenburg College merged with the Central Industrial Education Center to form Central Piedmont in 1963. AR.0032 - Carver and Mecklenburg College.

"Lets go to a dark room and see what develops"

They came, they saw, they captured! These students are diligently working in the bustling dark room to print their film and make their photographic mark. The possibilities are endless and the ingenuity is free flowing. Here, we have students huddled around their respective enlargers to create their prints from film reels or glass negatives. When asked about the current project being worked on, student Mark Jacobson (pictured above, far left), laughed as he said, “I’m not much of a photographer, but this project we’ve been working on has really captured my attention—no pun intended.”

The title of the project was “Through their Eyes”, with the goal being to capture someone in their most comfortable and natural environment. This could be anything from a favorite reading nook to a busy kitchen, with the hopes of creating a photo that encapsulates the subject’s personality. If this sounds like a daunting task, you’re not alone! Photography teacher, Mrs. Holt, describes her class as a “a labor of authenticity”, saying, “I want my students to connect with their images and focus on things that mean something to them or can tell a story with no words. This can make project hard for some, but there’s nothing better than seeing the light go off when they finally get what they are looking for!” Examples of student work is plastered all over the walls in the photography classroom as inspiration for new students into the course.

The photography department has been a long-standing favorite amongst students for years because of the creative and enjoyable atmosphere. “Sometimes I forget that I’m actually learning,” says Martha Stewart, a current photography student, “the rest of my classes can be very difficult so it’s such a nice break in the day to do something actually fun.”

Students in this course are able to learn not just about the functions of a camera or how to operate dark room equipment, but are exposed to famous photographers of the past to see what made their work so moving. Folks like Eve Arnold, Ansel Adams, and Richard Avedon are amongst the lengthy list of influential leaders in the field, and they all help students create their visions when it’s their time to point the camera.

School can be very difficult for most students and provides a great deal of stress, but this course allows freedom, expression, and creativity to flow through students and help them connect with themselves and their peers more—and the outside time for shooting is an added bonus!

Photography class is in session! 1997. AR.0036 - Academics

I remember this memory like it was yesterday. It was senior year and my friends and I decided to practice our line jump routine outside after school. We attended Gardner Ridge High School in 1978. It was a Thursday afternoon and we were having a pep rally the next day. I remember students from our school started to surround us and began to cheer us on. We also had photographers outside and they captured us practicing. Patty (far left) was one of the shiest girls on our team because it showed through her body language. Patty was a wonderful cheerleader and it showed when we performed for our school. Beside Patty is a sweetheart named Grace. Grace had such a bubbly personality and she loved showing school spirit. She was the goofiest on our team and was always there to make us laugh. Next, we have Georgia (middle) who was the laid back one. She cheered very precisely and traditionally. Even though she was laid back she contributed to teaching a lot of new cheers for us and we loved that about her. Next to Georgia is myself Ella. I absolutely adored cheerleading. I have been cheering since I was 4 years old. I love cheering because it allows me to express myself and show off my talents. I loved to see people cheering me on and I love entertaining them. Last but not least we have the wildest one on our team, Ms. Nikki. This girl knows how to put on a show! She was our most flexible cheerleader on the team as you can see she is showing everyone her perfect hurdler jump. Nikki was our captain and made sure our routines were almost perfect before we performed. She was also known as a “Perfectionist”. We called ourselves “The Melting Pot” because we were all so different and came from different backgrounds and we came together and made an amazing team. These girls will always be my family and I enjoyed all four amazing years with them. 

Central Piedmont Cheerleaders pep up the crowd during the 1983 Fall Festival. AR.0035 - The Spark.

Outline, tear, cut, repeat,

Glue, scissors, tape.

Black shapes on a white sheet,

Time slips away.

Coffee droplets dot the tabletop,

She rubs her eyes and stretches awake.

Hands moving on the clock that won't stop,

The lines across the paper blurring.

Thoughts begin to run wild through her head.

Ideas of paper perfection,

Creating her final assignment.

But something's missing in her work.

Sketching, trace, draw, erase,

Suddenly her hands are flying, her thoughts moving.

Everything has a place,

Her imagination starts to accelerate.

The paper and glue and ink becomes a blur,

Night trickles by and then morning arrives.

And the final masterpiece is before her,

One she doesn't even remember making.

Advertising and Graphic Design student working on a class assignment, 1976. AR.0036 - Academics

"Painted Memories"

She felt moments in shapes and colors. Many thought of that as odd, moments can only be felt as ordinary moments. Just as a memory of the feeling or the smells and sounds. But she felt these ordinary moments, she felt the smells and the sounds, but her mind transformed them into a creation on a sheet of sketchbook paper. Everytime she wanted to remember, she’d run to her room, turn on her lamp and pull out her gouache paints. Then she’d paint and paint till she knew everything she’d felt that day was on the paper to forever be cherished. Her father loved her art, he was the only that saw it though because she felt that she needed to keep her memories private. He disagreed, wanting her to show her work, or rather in his words, to help people feel the joy and pain she poured into each one of her strokes. She’d painted the page the day she’d finished high school, bright colors covered the page with a large shape in the middle almost resembling a sun. Her father took her for food after she’d thrown her cap into the air, her classmates laughing and cheering with her. He smiled at her as she chewed on the fries, he knew she’d fill her page with joyous colors when they got home. The day her father died she stared down at the tear stained page and couldn’t find herself being able to pull out her paint. For weeks she couldn’t find herself being able to do anything but flip through the bright pages of her book, remembering. One morning as she checked her email, she saw one from her professor with a reminder of the final project. Her eyes trailed to her notebook resting on the table beside her and she knew what she had to do, she knew what had to be done. The next week, she received another email, one telling her she should check on the new presentation at the art gallery in her college. She grabbed her bag and keys and found herself a few minutes later staring at rows and rows of her memories. Her heart beat heavily in her chest as she looked across each one, living each and every color and brush stroke. A woman stood inside, her head bent as she looked down at one of the pages. She walked closer, finding herself standing next to the woman. She had tears in her eyes before she looked over at her. The woman simply remarked how much joy the image had brought her and she couldn’t explain why, then left. As she stood staring at the page, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d remembered that day perfectly. It was the last beautiful day she’d had with her entire family, a bright sunny day on the lake, laughter sprinkled across the dewy grass. She wiped a tear away as she stood in that room, the hours passing her like distant thoughts.

A visitor to the Art Gallery in 1991. AR.0035, The Spark.

"Looking Back at a Growing Skyline"

It was a long day working on building the skylines of a growing city. The clouds overhead held back the unbearable heat with shaded salvation. A bright red crane assisted the construction workers by bringing them the supplies they needed to continue to build. Workmen were tired from the days long and labor intensive work but they continued to be precise and hard-working. from their worksite they could see the skyline of the city that they were currently building more skylines for through the trees. Smaller buildings also doubted the horizon. Concrete was being laid on top of the current surface that was being worked on. Many men were working together at many different jobs to bring together a smooth leveled surface. The men working war hardhats to protect themselves along with work boots and regular T-shirts and pants. They worked in groups and talked among themselves to ensure the jobs were being done correctly. The concrete building that they were constructing would become an important staple for the growing city. A college was being built for this growing city and would help to educate thousands of students. with a job as important as constructing buildings of such importance photographs were taken depicting the process. These pictures were saved and archived for the college to remember how it began and where it started. Archived photographs help ground students and the reality of the hard work that it took years ago for them to be blessed with such a place to learn. Education was a necessity for the city ever expanding. And although this campus was the first it was not The last, for many more campuses were built around different areas of the city to ensure educational availability throughout. 

Construction of the original Learning Resources Center, 1968. The Charlotte skyline is shown behind the construction workers. AR.0034 - Time Capsule Collection - slides.

From Honda and Harley-Davidson

To Suzuki and Yamaha,

It seems that the public’s love for motorcycle has waned in the newer generation

A motorcycle’s  appeal was to whip in between cars ,

To have a roaring engine telling everyone of its presence.

But not anymore.

From their un-protective nature compared to cars and their consumers getting older,

To many people seeing motorcycles as luxury few can afford,

Motorcycles are just too out of reach for younger riders.

Older riders want power and are mechanically inclined

Younger riders want speed and are technically inclined

Any product that has existed over many generations has to find younger users,

And for motorcycles, those who young don’t get one until their much older.

A student poses for a photograph during an automotive instruction session, 1972. AR.0036 - Academics.

"Lois Dixon"

Her spark was lit in desolate conditions

Surrounded by doubt 

Surrounded by people who didn’t want her to win

Her fire only grew 

While they tried to put it out

It didn’t come easy

She struggled through the extra traps

Extra traps that the others didn’t have

Tiredness shown in the dark circles around her eyes

Energy given in the form of coffee

This is what she wants

Every fiber of her being is telling her to keep pushing

This is for those who come after her

This is bigger than just her

And so she warns them

Try not to get cut 

When glass shatters from the ceiling

Photograph of Dr. Lois Dixon, first female dean of the Business Administration Department, 1981. Photo Credit: The Charlotte Observer.

"Clinical Experience"

 The first day of clinicals did not start off well. I was still asleep when my dad started screaming at me from the bottom of the stairs.

“Brenda are you kidding me?! How will you be successful if you can’t even get up for your first day?!”

It took no more than a second for me to become coherent, realizing immediately why he was yelling. It was already 6:45am and I should have been up thirty minutes prior in order to make it to class. Even if I had woken up on time, there’s a pretty fair chance that Dad would have found something negative to say. In the midst of his yelling he also woke up my sister Catherine, who was laying directly across the room from me in an identical twin bed. I glanced over at her and rolled my eyes, and she looked back at me with a calm smile.

“Don’t let him get to you. Everyone wakes up late sometimes, even him.”

I couldn’t help but to smile. She was always so encouraging- in complete contrast to our pessimistic father. She was actually the one who encouraged me to join the dental hygiene program, and without her there’s no way I would have made it this far.

I planned to put myself together nicely for my first day working on patients, but the most important thing was that I made it on time. I quickly threw on my uniform, clipped my bangs back, and threw my hair in a bun. Just as I tied my second shoe I heard a beep outside.

“See, Jenna is never late!” Dad shouted from the kitchen.”

I grabbed my backpack, and ran out the driveway, not bothering to respond or say goodbye. As soon as I swung open Jenna’s car door, we both squealed.

Jenna exclaimed, “Oh. My. God! You look so cute!”

“Thanks girl! So do you.” I replied.

It was absolutely surreal seeing each other in our uniforms for the first time. I hadn’t had a moment to appreciate it as I rushed to get ready, but now that I’d seen Jenna all put together it really hit me. Today was the day we would work on real human teeth.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

“Oh for sure. But more than anything I’m excited.”

It was relieving to know that Jenna had nerves too. I had barely scrapped by on my courses, but she had gotten A’s from beginning to end. I took selfish comfort in the fact that she had some anxiety as well.

We pulled up to our building where our classes would be taking place in the basement. The basement wasn’t the most luxurious classroom setting, but we just felt grateful there was a dental program at CPCC at all. When it’s all said and done a degree is a degree no matter where you take your courses! We walked downstairs with our heads held high- ready to take on the day as dentists in training.

Dental Hygiene students during their clinical sessions, 1966. Classes were taught in Central High during this time. AR.0036 - Academics.

The soft rain sings to me

Comforting me with its constant rhythm

My Perkins Brailler is waiting for me, I remind myself

Walking back inside, my umbrella is dripping wet as I set it aside

The sweet scent of fresh cookies permeates the kitchen

Taking a bite, the sweet treats slowly melt

Anticipation has kept me on edge

I make sure the paper is loaded and feel around the keys

My mind is eager to see what awaits me today

So I turn on the radio

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For my poem, I chose the picture "Copy of radio-reading-for-blind-1981-12" I found it really neat how assisted technology was used to help students.

An employee of the Radio Reading for the Blind program. This was part of the College's effort to provide diverse educational resources throughout Mecklenburg County to help raise literacy skills for adults. Methods used were radio, television, telephone, and the newspaper. AR.0036 - Programs and Services.

"The End of the Journey" 

Long days 

Hard nights 

Fighting for my life 

War after War 

Battle after Battle 

I fought 

Not for me 

But for us 

I fought for my country 

Never forgetting 

Always remembering 

Never letting go 

I stand forever brave 

I stand forever strong 

I stand forever with my country

The Spark Newsletter photograph of unidentified solider. AR.0035.

With a camera and some power

One can capture the most magnificent shots

Videos of people mourning for their loved ones

Pictures of people celebrating their joyous occasions

With a camera and some power

One can capture the façade of humans

We smile for a camera

To hide our pain

A picture can tell a thousand words

But the story behind it tells a million more

"CPCC Television" camera controller in 1982. AR.0035 - Events

"The Muse"

My muse,

Please don’t be confused.

I draw you in my class,

But my feelings, I can no longer bypass.

My drawings cannot convey your beauty,

So my hands must do double duty.

From the way you pose,

Or how you stick out your nose,

It all makes my heart race.

I just hope you can’t see it on my face

The way you look at me,

I can only imagine what you see.

A small time artist taking a class,

Or maybe a future artist of a higher class.

I think of you all the time,

But it’s always so sublime.

You give me all my inspiration,

But I’m not saying this out of desperation.

I don’t want to be misconstrued,

But will you forever be my muse?

The Spark Newsletter photograph, AR.0035.

"Player 31"

Good kid dealt some bad cards.

No good mother with an absent father.

His only family being his team.

Only love given to him was from the ball he held in his hands.

Basketball was the only thing he could control.

The only thing that had his back.

Motivated him and picked him up.

He begins the game of a lifetime.

The one that makes or breaks his further career.

A dunk of the CPCC century goes into play

With his defeated opponents behind him, nervous and grey.

Within the picture, you do not know if the ball makes it.

If his dunk flopped or not.

But the picture does not need to be painted black or white to figure out the rest of this game.

Central Piedmont basketball game against Clinton College, early 1980s. AR.0036 - Athletics.

"White Noise - Reading Between the Lines"

“Thank you to everyone listening here today” ...

Y’all listen up, especially my haters!

“I’d like to thank everyone who believed in me, as well as everyone who doubted me. You all have added fuel to my motivational fire” ...

‘Remember when y’all said I would be nothing? Look at you now, watching me bxtch!’

“I hope my personal achievements have inspired people to not look outwards, but to look introspectively at the heart” ...

Next time you want to prejudge someone because of their race, remember this moment right here.

“I hope to have inspired our future generations to chase their dreams earnestly, because they really can come true” ...

To my fellow teens and to the little children of color; this can be you too!

“When one door closes, I encourage you all to not get discouraged, but to use that disappointment to motivate yourself to become your best. Thank you, and good afternoon to you all!”

The world will tell you no because you’re different; use that anger and hurt to fuel you to a position where they can’t help but say yes. I’m out this joint!

Celebration of "John White Day" on June 11, 1982. From left to right: Dr. Richard Hagemeyer (first president of Central Piedmont); John White at podium (Pulitzer Prize winner for his photographs of life in Chicago during the 1970s-1980s. Graduate of Central Piedmont in 1966. First community college graduate to ever win a Pulitzer Prize); Dr. Bill Claytor seated to right of podium. Dr. Claytor was the head of Central Piedmont Board of Trustees at this time. 

"First Week, August 1995"

I see her up ahead.

She’s sort of looking at Lisa,

and I feel like I know her.

Like I’ve seen her before.

Looks like a teacher.

But I’ve only started here.

(I don’t know what I’m interested in.

But I don’t want Mom to choose my classes for me.)

I look at the woman talking to my friend

And realize she’s in a picture in my wallet.

I take out my wallet.

There she is, and there I am.

And a beautiful abstract painting behind us.

I think back to when the picture was taken.

The modern art museum.

Several months ago.

She’d said it was her art.

Now I remember.

I wait until my friend is done talking to her,

and then I approach her.

“Hi! Remember me? I’m Chrissie.

I loved your painting,” I say,

and hold up the photo so she knows what I mean.

She thanks me. We talk for a few minutes.

By the time we’re done,

I know what class I want to take in the spring.

The Spark newsletter photograph, early 1990s, unidentified photographer. AR.0035

1975; in that sliver of daybreak when 

Only blackbirds stir, wind chills bare branches, 

Silent dawn slices into ebony-lit rooms, and 

The boxing champ rises into a waking dream, inside a gym.

Sweat, like human rawness melting off the skin

Lives in the room and pervades as 

Swamp fog; not as a stench or grime you can’t wash off, 

But one more tireless pat on the back.

Wrap the wrists, guard between the lips, and as

The final red fist goes on, he can hear them, 

Feel their thunder berating bleachers, chants rising to their feet; 

The swell of victory never sounded so frightening.

Hundreds of stares in front of him, but only one behind;

Mightier than the rest, stinging into his back, 

The gaze of a legacy that’s now his

To beat.

Cover of The Spark, Vol 1., No. 8, May 2, 1977. AR.0035.

"Cue Balls and Cigarettes"

Looking back, I can still smell the stench of cigarette smoke and linoleum. In those days, we were still allowed to smoke inside the buildings without people making a big fuss. God how I miss the 1970s. Before all the cell phones and new-age garbage, people actually used to interact with one another at school. That’s probably why they got rid of all the pool tables and sports teams. When I was in college, between classes me and a couple of my classmates always stopped and played a game or two of pool in the cafeteria with the welding kids. I can remember how crappy those sticks were; half of the time we’d get splinters on our thumbs from them and whack the tips straight off the side of the cue ball. I don’t think they ever replaced them while I was there. I can’t begin to tell you how many times we sent the sticks through the faded felt of the pool table, ending in one of the staff members yelling at us to get the hell out of there. One of the English professors, Mr. Tysinger, always played us after he finished up with his noon classes. He kicked our asses on a regular basis, rubbing in that us kids, “don’t know a damn thing,” about playing pool. We often played for cokes, the losers buying the winning team a couple of sodas out of the cafeteria to get us through the rest of the day. Between studying, classes, and working nights, this was the only time for us to kick back and relax during the day. A lot of us were first generation college students. We became welders, nurses, accountants, office clerks, and more. We could barely afford the bigger universities up in Boone and in Raleigh, but we still worked through those two years to get degrees. Things were a lot simpler back then.

Self-proclaimed "Pool Shark" Nick Varner, performs some pool tricks in the Recreation Room of Taylor Hall on October 24, 1980. The Spark, Vol. 5, No. 3. AR.0035

"A Picturesque Scene" 

A man walks down a concrete path.

Could he be a teacher of science or math?

A folder of papers tucked under one arm,

for the students, he means no harm.

The man walks forward with pride,

taking each step in stride.

The autumn air blows briskly by,

as paper thin clouds cover the sky.

On the ground stands a red bin,

and a muddy ditch holds the rain water within.

The bare trees take in the evening breeze,

as they settle down and shed all their leaves.

The Terrell building is painted white.

Over yonder horizon,

a view of the City of Charlotte is a welcoming sight.

Many might have missed such a scene.

So peaceful and quiet, like a beautiful dream.

If not for a photographer with a mission,

to capture a scene of beauty and vision.

This photo is a reminder of CPCC’s history,

and will forever be ingrained in our memories.

Construction of Central Piedmont's Central campus in 1968. To the right of the man walking, the previous Learning Resources Center is under construction. The former Terrell Building is newly constructed with only two stories (the remaining two stories would be added in 1974. The "Classroom Building" is situated to the left of Terrell. This building became "Mecklenburg Building and the Van Every Building. Today, the new Zeiss Building resides in its place, with the new Library and Student Success Center under 

Craig sat proudly, staring out of the library window. He was finally in his final semester of school at the age of 35; it had been such a long road. Craig's children were finally old enough to care for themselves after school.

         Craig and Amy met and fell in love at 18, got married at 21, had 2 children by the time they were 24, and then Amy had gotten cancer and died before the oldest was 5 years old. Craig had been a hands-on single father for six years. Finally, his children were old enough to stay home alone after school, allowing Craig to go back to school and begin his nursing degree.

         Craig worked hard to be the best father he could and do the best he could; it was certainly not easy. His children needed him, especially after Amy got so sick, and even more so after she passed.

         His children became his world. He guided and mentored them as they got older. It was not always easy; he had to mask his emotions of losing the love of his life so that he could be the support boat for his children. It was the right thing to do, and he loved his kids. As the kids aged, he knew someday he would go back to school, but it took several years to decide when and how he would be able to balance the two worlds.

         Going back to school had been a long time passion of his and had taken a long time and a lot of dedication to achieve. Finally, he was almost there, so much had changed; the children were growing up and becoming more independent, which made going back to school easier.

         He sat in the library with his needed encyclopedias reminiscing all of his hard work, proud that he was almost done. It had definitely not been an easy journey, but he was almost there, the finish line was close.

A student is photographed carrying books in the Central Piedmont Library, 1980s. AR.0035.

Photo Spark 945: CPCC Archive

Moving through like liquid melanin,

brown as molasses and as strong as leather.

Floating through his veins as light as a feather

with the constant thump of the music resting close by.

Holding on to it , as if it’s a pulse and without it he would die.

His face may look disgruntled, maybe it's just the heat.

Wondering what he is listening to, wandering the beat.

Is it the words of that song that have him looking that way, or is there no sound at all.

Music can be the cushioning to a moment right before you fall.

He searched and found peace in between his education.

The girls from across the courtyard staring with infatuation

Music being his source of instant gratification.

But for some reason I can’t feel what he was feeling.

Maybe he wondered if he belonged , or knew his music was all he could talk too.

Especially when there are no friends in sight, just him and his boombox walking through.

A student is photographed walking on the Central Campus in the early 1980s. The Spark. AR.0035

Mrs. Cathy Murphy was a wonderful person, and an even better teacher. Throughout her 38-year career, she earned many awards and accolades for her fervent dedication to her students. She had been invited to countless graduations, and had even been mentioned by name in a few valedictorian speeches as an inspiration to the student throughout their school careers. Students, teachers, and faculty at her school wept the day she retired. She was truly a treasure. 

Cathy was smart, strong, patient, and had a rare passion for her craft that spanned the length of her tenure. She'd known she wanted to be a teacher her entire life. As a child, she would set up pretend school classrooms so she could be the teacher to her four younger siblings. It was their favorite game. She would later tutor them, as well as other students in her class, throughout grade school and college. Everyone knew her as a helper, a teacher, and a sweet, compassionate soul.

As Emily looked at the old photo of Cathy, she thought of what that day must have meant to her beloved grandmother. The photo, taken in 1968, was taken by Emily's grandfather, and Cathy's husband, John. It was the first day of her first teaching job at Central Piedmont Community College. As John parked to pick her up from her first day, he was so excited for her that he couldn't wait for her to make it into the car. He hurried toward the entrance to Taylor Hall, where he knew Cathy would be, and saw her just as she was exiting the building. Camera in hand, he snapped a quick, candid photo of the likely exhausted Cathy. 

Later, Cathy would beam as she told the story of the photo. And now, six days from graduation, missing her dearly departed grandmother, Emily felt bittersweet as she remembered the many wonderful years she was able to spend with this amazing woman, and how her love, patience, and passion for teaching led Emily to choose this career path for herself. As her final semester of her senior year of college was coming to an end, Emily knew her grandmother would be proud, and only hoped to be half the person and teacher her grandmother was.

A student photographed outside of the newly-constructed Taylor Hall, 1980. The Spark, AR.0035.

"A Place"

Taking a first glance,

You would realize times are different

Oh, how the passing years bring a sense of nostalgia

The cars no longer flood the streets as it used to

The buildings aged roughly as if they are tired

At second glance,

You discover that you have been here

Stumbling across its existence as you were running late for an 10 AM class

A place for the youth,

And even now still a place for the youth

At final glance,

You realize that times are different

But the essence of that place remains the same

The same building that succeeded the adolescence

Then, and now.

Central High School as seen in 1954. AR.0036.

Vespa’s eyes were swimming. They had been staring at diagrams for what felt like hours. This one was of a small reconnaissance drone. The last had been a turret. The one before that had been of their boss’s power armour. After examining each blueprint, Vespa used their powers to bend light into the object and make them real. If they worked, they had succeeded and they could move on to the next trinket. If they didn’t work, Vespa went back to staring dejectedly at the blueprints.

“Somehow,” Vespa muttered to themselves, “when I joined the league of superpowered misfits™ , I imagined there would be less blueprints involved.” Not that they had had a choice about joining. Apparently stopping a bank robbery and subsequent bombing didn’t make the judges forget about the several successful bank robberies they had done. They gave Vespa a choice: the electric chair or join arms (under tight supervision) with LindquIndustries.

“That’s how we get you.” Anthony said with a grin. He held out a cup, “Coffee?”

“Thanks…” Vespa had no idea how, but their boss and current guardian, Anthony Lindquist, always got their order right. It was a bit unnerving. Iced mocha coffee with sugar and cream. Lindquist liked to joke that Vespa could more effectively get their fix by drinking straight creamer. Vespa liked to say that he could get more caffeine if he ate the roasted beans straight.

He glanced at the small pile of drones. “She giving you trouble?” Vespa sighed. “They won’t fly right.” Anthony picked up their latest failed attempt. Vespa continued glaring at the blueprints as he tinkered with the drone until they heard a soft whirring. They snapped their head around.

Anthony laughed a little as the drone took flight, buzzed around the room, and landed back in his hand. “I have no idea how you do that, Tony.” He only smiled.

“Here,” he disassembled the drone and began pointing to various metal tabs. “These were bent just slightly away from where they needed to be so the circuit wasn’t connected. Try it again.” Vespa examined the drone carefully and then pulled the light carefully into the correct shapes before snapping their hands shut. When they opened their hands again, there was another drone. Anthony picked it up and turned it on. It hovered a safe distance upwards before gently setting itself on the table.

He smiled “Good job, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kid” Vespa grumbled.

“Seventeen is baby aged. You're a baby.” he said, standing up from his seat.

“Ok, boomer.” Anthony laughed and ruffled their hair before turning to leave. “Have fun with the next one!”

“You’re a menace.” Vespa grumbled.

Grinning all the same, he called over his shoulder, “Love you too!” 

Vespa stared at the next blueprint before groaning at the ceiling.

AR.0036 - Academics.