The next generation of young Oakmont writers was recognized at Fitchburg State University for their achievements in the annual High School Creative Writing Contest. Six Oakmont students were awarded certificates, gift certificates, and accolades at an April 1st awards ceremony at the Mazzaferro Center in Presidents Hall.
Student winners responded to a prompt asking them to consider two seemingly unrelated events and to find a connection between them. Contestants had the choice of drafting a narrative essay or a poem describing the connection they interpreted between these events.
Oakmont poetry winners were as follows: 1st Place, Savannah Stowell, 2026, Not As It Seems; 2nd Place, Grace Alatalo, 2027, Think With Your Heart, Think With Your Head ; 3rd place, Audrey Lavenski, 2026, The Art of the Bosai Tree
Oakmont essay winners were, 1st Place, Anthony Fidler, 2026, Burnt Bridges; 2nd Place, Kara Bennett, 2027, The Other Side of the Window; 3rd Place, Evelyn Wright, 2025, I’ve Never Been Proud of an Achievement or an Accomplishment, Just Relieved
Anthony Fidler, essay winner, wrote Burnt Bridges. “The piece I had submitted for the contest was very personal and came straight from the heart. It was about the struggles I had faced growing up and figuring out why I had always been treated so differently from the kids I was growing up with,” Fidler said after his piece was read to a full hall audience.
His essay was a powerful recollection of an embattled childhood, but found its creative meaning with a figurative and literal fire motif.
His meaning behind words seemed to be in direct connection to an opening statement by Fitchburg State President Dr. Donna Hodge. She spoke of how the most vivid, insightful thoughts only find their most intentional clarity when put into writing. She emphasized writing as the most lucid form of communication, and a skill that colleges continue to teach and value.
Savannah Stowell, 1st Place Poetry winner and last year’s 2nd place winner, read her pair of poems entitled Not As It Seems, which contrasts her Home “Sweet” Home Life with her “Hospital” Life. Her paradoxical and somewhat ironic take of her ‘two lives’ is bolstered by vivid imagery and a unique perspective.
Stowell was overwhelmed by the appreciation, saying, “I never imagined winning first place with my poetry, but it’s helped me grow more confident in my skills and fully grasp how powerful words can be. My goal was to create something raw with real-life experiences, and I’m proud that it paid off.”
Continuing in the circle of Fitchburg State English professors, contest organizer Dr. Wendy Keyser and published poet and professor Dr. DeMisty Bellinger-Delfeld, both shared their appreciation for this inspirational celebration of young writers and their messages, opening their contest and message to schools across Massachusetts, which included winners from high schools such as North Middlesex Regional, Monty Tech, The Parker School, Braintree, Gloucester, and as well as Oakmont.
Both of Oakmont’s first-place winners – Fidler and Stowell – were also given the opportunity to have their work published in the next issue of Route 2, the Fitchburg State literary magazine. Also, all contest entrants received vouchers to waive the application fee to Fitchburg State and the enrollment deposit.
Oakmont creative writing teacher Mr. Mark Nevard spoke of his students. “Each day I walk into a classroom, brainstorm ideas, pitch a genre, and then the magic just seems to happen. It amazes me how creative and talented these students’ pieces continue to be year after year.”
The ceremony was a special event that was certainly appreciated by the winners. “The ceremony was very professional feeling—I kinda felt like an outsider as it was the first time I had attended or done anything that was that organized before. It made me feel prouder of myself to be able to be seen by such professional people and for them to think I had the best piece,” said Fidler.
Stowell agreed, saying, “Getting the chance to read my work and listen to others was unlike anything I’ve experienced before. It was amazing in every way. All of the pieces were very moving, and it’s interesting to see the way other writers think.”
Mark Nevard, who has been teaching creative writing courses for over 25 years, was also given special appreciation by the Fitchburg State University English Studies Department. Dr. Keyser awarded Nevard with a ‘surprise’ Writing Teacher of the Year Certificate, recognizing the veteran mentor as a talented supporter of the art of writing and his aspiring students.
Nevard was eager to mention that Fitchburg State’s English Studies Department is an important piece in validating the talent he thinks he sees in the classroom. “So often I feel like I might be too easy to please. On the daily, I praise students’ writings as being special and unique, but when scholarly writing panels like this one at Fitchburg State have the same perspective, these student-writers are even more empowered. It extends out of the classroom.”
The event ended with photos, a brief tour of campus, and a stop at the campus bookstore to spend their award certificate.
Student 1st Place winners below:
Burnt Bridges, Anthony Fidler 1st Place Essay
When I was younger, I acted out because I wasn’t getting attention. My dad went to prison when I was five, and I had no sense of normalcy. I’d cause trouble, either for myself by jumping off the roof of our apartment or for others by breaking things. My family wasn’t the picture of “The American Dream”—we were more like white trash, sharing our house with other families. We were constantly under the scrutiny of CPS, and one of those visits led me to ruin everything for myself as I grew up.
I’d play with fire as a kid because I craved attention. Even if it meant being yelled at, I just wanted someone to acknowledge me, to show they cared. One time, someone lit a candle, and I was fascinated. I took it to the room I shared with my siblings and just stared at it. It smelled like strawberry banana—something we never had. It was such a relief from the usual stale, trashy scent that filled the house. My siblings were in the parlor, and I was alone in my room. I knew fire was dangerous, but it was thrilling to watch things burn. I placed a coloring book on top of the candle and left it on the carpet as it burned. The heat felt comforting, especially in a home without a heater. It warmed my cold skin and made me feel a sense of peace.
I didn’t know we were having a check-up that day. When I heard the front door open, panic set in, knowing the trouble I was about to face. The fire had spread to the carpet, and as I tried to hide it, my mom came in. For the first time, I saw panic in her eyes. She didn’t yell. Instead, she grabbed the candle and took it to the kitchen, then came back, covered the charred carpet with a towel, and said, “Why don’t you act normal?”
She said those words with a tone of sadness and disappointment, not anger. It hurt more than anything, deeper than a wasp sting, and it paralyzed me. It wasn’t just the kids at school who thought I was weird; even my mom did. I didn’t argue. I just sat quietly on the bed. She told me to stay there and not move, which I did. The CPS worker came, checked the apartment, and left, never noticing the burn mark or how broken I was inside.
A few weeks later, my mom was arrested for stealing and sent to jail for two years when I was seven. Someone had to take custody of me, and none of my family wanted me, except my aunt in Maine. I never understood why nobody else wanted me. Maine was torture because of the bullying I faced at school. My aunt was wonderful and loved me like her own son, but that didn’t heal the self-hatred that grew more intense each day when I went to school and got made fun of.
After the nightmare of Maine, I moved back in with my parents at ten when they got out of jail and were ready to try and be a family. I was a little kid who didn’t believe family was just about blood, but I was thrust into one where it was more about law. I started resenting my family for not taking me when I was younger, subjecting me to years of mental torment. The friends I made when I moved in with my parents began shaping me into the person I am today, and I’ll forever be grateful for them.
Nobody ever told me why no one wanted me until I was 16. On my father’s birthday, college came up in conversation, and it made me emotional. I wanted to get out of New England because all I had were bad memories of moving around. When I shared my dream of moving far away to explore another state, he yelled at me, calling it unrealistic. I understood it was unlikely, but it was my dream, and it hurt to have him shut it down so quickly.
He began telling me how I never thought about others, and how I bottled everything up instead of speaking up. But I had tried, and I was always met with dismissal—“You don’t have room to complain.” My sisters were in the room, and I finally let it all out, the years of bullying I endured. I’d tried to talk about it before, but it always ended with yelling. Tears flowed from my sister’s eyes as I opened up. I asked Nikki, my older sister, why she hadn’t taken me in those years I spent in Maine.
She told me she was afraid I’d cause trouble and burn the house down. My mom had told the whole family about the fire incident when CPS came to check on us. That was the missing piece. Everything clicked into place, and I shut down. That night ended with me being kicked out and forced to sleep at a friend’s house, and all I could think about was how my actions—like starting fires or hurting myself—had cost me the chance to stay with someone who cared, someone who could have been there for me.
I regretted losing those years of childhood because of a flame I started a flame that burned down the bridge to a normal life.
Savannah Stowell. First Place Poetry
Not As It Seems: My Hospital Life
Monitors beep and I lie awake all night
Nurses rush in to poke my arms with needles
I feel drowsy from all the medication
Completely helpless… weak…
Day after day I’m stuck in this hell
Unable to eat for days
So that I don’t start throwing up again
Retching up those trash bags of blood
My stomach feeling like a wrung towel
All while doctors try to find a way
To slap a bandaid on my problem
Instead of a cure
Maybe there isn’t one…
So over and over again I’m dragged
Back to the hospital
Where I’ll stay for a week or so
Before they are satisfied I can leave
Even if they know I’ll come back
Eventually
To be dragged around by a bed
Or a wheelchair if I’m lucky
But at least I’m being cared for
I don’t feel neglected as I would normally
And I don’t feel overwhelmed by school or work
My schedule isn’t so cramped here
And I just exist
I don’t deal with the tedious work others have to do
I can ignore everyone in the world for a week
Not care about anything just for a while
Give myself a break from constantly stressing
Going from place to place
With way too much on my plate
So in a way, this is my home
A kind of life that gives me a break
And while I wouldn’t prefer it
It’s not all that bad…
Not As It Seems: Home “Sweet” Home
Everything is silent on this Sunday night
I get home from work and get to relax
All my hard work done
No needles in my arms
Just a warm and cozy bed
And a cat curled up beside me
I could read myself to sleep
Or maybe play a game on my phone
I could get used to this feeling
I slowly slip into a deep sleep
Curled up comfortably
Wanting to sleep in and dream forever
I’m happy until an alarm clock starts to blare
Until I’m reminded that I have to go to school
I have to work all day and all night
And I know it’s not just me
But I really need a break
From all the nonstop noise
An early meeting
Classes all day long
Going into different rehearsals
Moving into work
Just to go home and do homework
Barely getting any sleep
Where’s my free time?
When’s the time to collect my sanity?
I just feel so neglected
And wish that someone would care
Offer to give me a hand
Instead of adding more to my plate
So that I’m constantly stressing
Wishing on elevens for a break
Even if only for a few days
Even only an hour
This is so bad…
