Learning for lives of purpose

At every grade level, Dock academics are intended to foster a life-long love of learning.

Dock Poets

Poems from an Exhibition

Each fall, Mrs. Grega's 9th grade English Study Skills students complete their unit on poetry with an exhibition of their works.

Assistant Superintendent Dr. Sharon Fransen reads some of the poetry written by freshman Connor Lokuta.

The Invisible Trap

It hangs from the tree unseen

It waits and waits invisible until an unsuspecting insect flies into the trap

It must be prepared all the time for the victim to arrive, always expecting its next guest

the maker of the web keeps expanding the trap to make it bigger and more fatal

it is complexity and beauty woven together yet invisible to a passing insect

once an insect is captured, it tussles with the net

there's no escaping

the bug is doomed, once he simmers down, the maker will come and feast on its prize.

Nathan Smeland

Guidance counselor Mrs. Lori Leaman peruses some student poetry.

The Brown Animal

I love our dog

our inhuman fluff ball

so soft and warm

she demands lots of work

but in the end we are repaid in full

everyone wants the feeling of

soft, warm fur between their fingertips

though she does not speak,

she fills the void of loneliness

how can a silent inhuman creature offer so much comfort?

she really is a man's best friend

our dog Violet

Nathan Smeland


Seems like the end is never near

Shedding tears

But they reappear

Sitting here, volunteering to



Connor Lokuta

Grades 9-12 Principal Mr. Martin Wiens (top) reviews some of the poetry written by Harry Davis III.


I am different, is it good or bad.

I got treated like everyone else, but I just knew I wasn't the same as them

I stood out. I didn't blend in, everybody around that saw me stared at me

At first I didn't like it, but as I grew, standing out wasn't so bad

I looked beautiful in my own way and expressed my true colors from the outside

I realize my color is what made me who I am today

Without standing out maybe I wouldn't be here today

Then I would never have known what my reason in life was

My reason is to show people that just being different is a great thing

Just because I'm a purple tree surrounded by green grass doesn't mean I'm not a tree

I'm still like everyone else just with different features

So never be afraid to be you, just let your leaves grow

Harry Davis III

Listen to Harry Davis III read his poem, "School."

Listen to Steven Martin read his poem, "Nike."

Listen to Elyssa Bochnowicz read her poem, "Dispiritedness."

Listen to Ben Anderson read his poem, "Boredom."


When she didn't get out of bed for days, instead of calling it depression, you called her lazy.

When she was high as the sky one day, jumping off of roofs for fun and lower than hell on other days, wallowing in her misery instead of calling it bipolar disorder, you called her hormonal.

When she couldn't talk to people on the phone, or couldn't hold eye contact even for a millisecond, with panic attacks in public places, instead of calling it anxiety, you called her shy and an introvert.

When she asked for help, or a diagnosis, someone to talk to, instead of calling a doctor for an appointment, you called her an attention seeker.

Soon depression was her best friend, always pulling her to sleep.

Soon bipolar was the cool aunt who couldn't keep her thoughts under control.

Soon anxiety was that second cousin who touched her every once in awhile when no one was looking.

Soon you called a doctor only for him to pronounce her time of death.

Tabitha Bennefield

Listen to Abbigail Keenan read her poem, "Halloween."

Listen to Tabitha Bennefield read her poem, "Anger."

Lonely Field

When you walk on the field you feel a presence

but nobody is there.

The outfield is sparkly, and freshly mowed.

The home plate dusty and dirty

the field, unpainted and undisturbed.

The pitching rubber dirt all kicked up

Like it was just used, but still no one is there.

The sun shining down on the field, but no shadows.

The Dock baseball field is a special place

But at the same time a very lonely place.

Garrett Schrock

Listen to Garrett Schrock read his poem, "Hatred."

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