Stuyvesant Students Reflect on Scholastic Arts and Writing Success

Each year, the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards recognize the creativity and talent of teen artists and writers across the country. To participate, students in grades seven to 12 submit original work in 28 different categories, including fashion, comic art, and poetry. Each entry is evaluated by a panel of judges based on originality, technical skill, and personal voice. Results for regional writing and art awards were recently announced on January 29. Students can earn a Gold Key, Silver Key, or Honorable Mention. Students that win Gold Keys are considered for national awards, such as the Gold Medal or Silver Medal. National winners are eligible for scholarships, publication opportunities, and even award ceremonies. The competition has been around for over a century, and several renowned artists and writers, such as Andy Warhol and Langston Hughes, have previously participated. Aside from awards, the competition serves as a platform for young artists and writers to showcase their talents, gain confidence, and connect with a larger creative community.

 At Stuyvesant, participation in the Scholastic Awards is a tradition—one also encouraged by teachers—with many students submitting pieces in a variety of mediums, ranging from visual art to journalism. This year, Stuyvesant students alone won 116 writing awards and 67 art awards—an incredible achievement for the school and, more importantly, a reflection of students’ passions, ideas, and talent.  

Before submitting their work, or even developing it into finished pieces, students begin with the initial creative process, which can take up various forms for different students. For many, inspiration is spontaneous and personal. “I wrote my poem one night during Hanukkah, when I was thinking about the candle lighting ceremony and its meaning. I then started to connect the number eight to my family and how they were affected by October 7, and I wrote a poem about it,” sophomore Maya Hoota shared. This poem, titled “Eight,” went on to win a Gold Key in the poetry category. For Hoota, the process of editing and revising the poem occurred later. “My creative process started one night where I sat down and wrote the poem in about 20 minutes. A few days later, I asked some of my family friends to read over the poem and make some suggestions as to how I could revise it, and then I improved the poem,” she described. 

Similarly, senior Madeline Hutchinson, who won both the Silver and Gold Key awards, described the authenticity of the early stages of her artwork, “Threes” and “Bleeding Pieces.” “I’m a very impatient artist. I usually begin my pieces without any sketches or clear ideas of form. I think of an idea, event, or feeling that I want to capture; the embryonic stages of my artwork tend to be more focused on symbolism and meaning rather than communicating super detailed representation,” Hutchinson shared in an email interview.

Other students described the speed and ease of their creative processes. “No matter how much time I get for a writing assignment, I almost always end up writing the whole thing over the course of one or two nights. I swear it’s not all procrastination; I just believe that if I’m sitting down to write it and I’m in the headspace, why not knock it all out?” junior Ruby Kennedy, who won a Gold Key in the Personal Memoir Section for her personal essay “I Believe!,” described in an email interview.

Rather than writing entirely new pieces, many students opted to submit previously published works to the Awards. “The pieces I submitted to Scholastic actually weren’t written with Scholastic in mind (one was actually for The Spectator!). However, since the op-eds fit the journalism category, I decided to submit them. I really appreciate that the competition allows previously published work,” senior Ushoshi Das—who won a Silver Key for “Bring Back the Paper SAT” in the journalism category—shared in an email interview. Likewise, Hutchinson chose to submit two of her works from her AP art profile. 

Many submissions focused on themes of personal identity and self expression. Freshman Rahul Azam, who won a Gold Key for the Flash Fiction category, wrote a narrative essay inspired by his experiences in New York City. “My piece was a narrative essay for Freshman Composition where I had to detail my personal experience with a part of New York City that holds significance for me. I took a more creative approach to the assignment by writing third-person realistic fiction that blended elements of my own experiences. My writing aimed to resonate with Bangladeshi adolescents, especially in New York City, who have experienced inner conflict when navigating interactions both within their own community and with people of other races,” Azam shared.

Hutchinson’s pieces revolved around how relationships between women and matrilineality affect her, utilizing aspects of her heritage. “The piece [“Bleeding Seeds”] highlights expectations of women, pressured by their own mothers, to have children. The women are seated around the table eating pomegranates—an Armenian fertility symbol,” Hutchinson described. “The abundance of pink echoes femininity, and the clothes are flat/blank to represent the derealization of women’s bodies in Armenian culture.”

Kennedy’s essay also reflected themes she has recently grappled with: growing up and losing childhood authenticity. “I devised my thesis around feeling like, as I’ve grown up and matured, I’ve lost some of the authenticity and wildness I had as a little girl. That way, I could compare my current moody, teenage state with the sweet memories of my early childhood,” Kennedy shared. The Scholastic Awards do not have restrictions on specific themes for work submitted, allowing students to freely express themselves and their experiences. 

However, contrary to most students, whose works focus solely on their own experiences, Das’s submission in the journalism category included interviews from other students—another way of vocalizing personal beliefs. “I tend to write about issues that feel personal to me, which usually means that the topics affect students. My hope is always to offer a student’s perspective, so for this year’s submissions, I interviewed my peers as well. My pieces focused on a potential phone ban in schools and why I believe the paper SAT is better than the digital version,” Das described.

Due to the vast number of submissions to the Scholastic Awards, many Stuyvesant students felt unsure of how their work would be received. “It was a surprise to me that I won. I knew there were many people who were submitting who probably put more effort into their poetry than I did,” Hoota admitted. Despite the competitiveness, the award’s far reach and prestige helps it foster love for arts and personal expression.  

Sharing personal writing publicly was also a challenge for many. “Honestly, the biggest challenge I faced was getting over my fear of putting my work out there, especially considering how personal it is. It’s really hard to prepare yourself to give something that’s about your deepest regrets and fondest memories into the hands of people who will literally judge it against others’ works. But I had to put that aside and tell myself that this is what real writers do, and that even if it didn’t win it wouldn’t make me any less proud of it,” Kennedy shared.

Despite their initial doubts, many students found validation in receiving recognition with their awards. “This award inspired me to continue writing poetry because it makes my work feel appreciated. It made me feel like my writing is more than just something that can make my family happy, and that it could be taken seriously,” Hoota shared. Submitting to Scholastic is more than just earning an award; it’s an opportunity for students to learn, grow, and gain a deeper understanding of themselves. The knowledge and experience gained can be as rewarding as the reward itself.

Additionally, winning an award helped students become more confident in themselves. “I had an extra sense of pride in the aftermath of winning because I kept thinking things like ‘I never win these things!’ I guess for me, it’s a really nice compliment on a skill that I’ve been working on practically since I learned the alphabet,” Kennedy stated.  

For those hesitant to submit, one of this year’s awards winners’ advice is clear: “Don’t hesitate, not even for a second. You can submit as much as you’d like—which I did not know, so I’m going to go nuts next year—or as little, but submit something. There is no downside to it, only the cool benefits of being recognized,” Kennedy emphasized. Although there is a $10 fee for submissions, there are also fee waivers for eligible students; the price should not stand in the way of any students wanting to submit their work.

For many Stuyvesant students, submitting to the Scholastic Awards competition was more than just a way to win some fancy medal; it was a chance to push their creative boundaries and display their work on a larger stage. Whether they walked away with an award or simply grew as writers, the competition offered a unique opportunity for self-expression, validation, and the confidence to share their voices with the world. This was an amazing experience for everyone involved, and hopefully next year, even more Stuyvesant students will take advantage of this opportunity and submit their work. Until then, good luck to Gold Key winners on nationals!

Madeline Hutchinson’s submission titled “Threes”, which won a silver key 

Maya Hoota’s poem:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Cisngrv--PNnNjyXkBvgGFO0CfhfusbKlnO3Xjyg8Ps/edit?tab=t.0

Ushoshi Das’s article:

https://stuyspec.com/article/bring-back-the-paper-sat

Rahul Azam’s “My New York”:

On Halloween in Kensington, Brooklyn, the neighborhood’s most illuminated feature wasn’t an incandescent jack-o-lantern, nor was it those radiant contraptions of inflatable glow-in-the-dark Halloween motifs that snugly embrace houses in Dyker Heights. It was the light emitting from the cellphone of the clueless middle-aged aunt caught up in the most major fright of the night: calling her first-generation daughter Anya — who, at the time, was in her university lecture with flushed cheeks because she forgot to silence her phone — to buy lal shak¹, complementing the chingri bhorta² that would be served to Chachi³ and Chachu⁴ that night.

Chachi and Chachu were the living embodiments of gentrification. It was practically impossible for Anya and her parents to appease them. Chachu and Chachi resided in Jackson Heights, Queens: arguably, the superior Bangladeshi enclave in New York City. Their overwhelmingly large family of four was also housed in a “modest cottage” by Jamaica-179th Street: a direct hour-and-a-half F train ride to Church Avenue. It would be a miracle to catch Chachu or Chachi in a decrepit subway car, though, considering their pyramid scheme conveniently secured them an SUV. They were a proud part of the species of Bangladeshis that gag at the thought of anyone attending their elaborate banquets celebrating their trust-fund daughter’s engagement in a saree⁵. Western cake, not the succulent array of gulab jamun you thoughtfully picked out at Abdullah Sweets, will be cut (subsequent to the aunties ushering you out of the dining hall with their condescending stares.) 

Anya Tabassum ambled along the fir trees bisecting Church Avenue and Beverley Road. Each house alternated: the Ahmeds, then the Horowitzs; the Islams, then the Greenbergs. If one dug deep, they’d manage to find a Chen or a Sanchez squeezed somewhere along the bank of mid-rise apartment buildings, one of which she inhabited, and Victorian mansion replicas. One would have to venture into Prospect Park West, though. It was nearly impossible to find anyone who wasn’t a Bangladeshi or an Orthodox Jew on McDonald Avenue. 

She arrived at Avenue C Plaza, where widowers Abdul Rahman and Muhammad Chowdhury chain-smoke Marlboro cigarettes and wash them down with ginger tea. The plaza itself comprised a sorrowful strip of pavement and two folding chairs. Underwhelming was an understatement. Although, her eyes were more drawn to the scaffolding on her right, shielding the remnants of Jamuna Grocery on East 2nd Street. Her stomach sank in conjunction with her chest churning from drowning in Monster Energy prior to her physics conferences…Jamuna Grocery was gone? Its ashy dandelion facade inundated her with nostalgia; she recalled pacing down the narrow legume aisle as a child, debating between scarfing down Takis or chanachur⁶: crispy tokens of validation from her mother every time Anya aced her third grade multiplication quizzes, which was all the time.

Anya had always been bright, seamlessly surpassing her peers from her days at P.S. 179 on East 2nd Street to her acceptance into the grandiose New York University that Aisha Auntie would forever scorn. Her son was the lifelong academic rival of Anya. Unfortunately, the local Khan’s Tutorial center didn’t suffice in getting him into an Ivy League — “Mother of a Boston University alumnus” was a shameful title to carry while sipping dudh cha⁷ at melas⁸. However, there would be no more begging her mom for Mr. Twist chips after each of her academic feats. She would have to go to Shabuj Grocery instead. Anya wistfully sighed and turned the corner.

Anya detoured to Green House Deshi Supermarket, as the flurry of her mother’s voicemails compelled her into running errands. She obtained her lal shak and crossed the intersection. To the left echoed the dissonant howls of trick-or-treaters, who appeared to have accumulated a pitiful total of four peppermints, a handful of dates, and shards of a fortune cookie from the nearby Family Garden Takeout.“Should’ve went to Park Slope,” Anya chuckled under her breath. 

Her head lay low, but when the scent of smoky, aromatic gyro nestled in the halal food truck wafted toward her, she knew where she was: the heart of Kensington. Although, this heart wasn’t defined by the halal truck itself, nor the Walgreens anchoring it — not even Dr. Hasan’s office across the street that served virtually everyone in the area. This heart pumped Bangladeshis. Church-McDonald Avenue was the essence of Kensington.

Everything was in synchrony, from the rampant clutter of the adjacent F and G train that took the Tabassums to Queens every weekend to the avid protestors fighting to preserve our heritage to the booths of henna artists adorning hands with intricate designs — inked by rich Bengali blood. Church-McDonald was by the Bangladeshis, for the Bangladeshis. Kensington’s heart was only recently rebranded as “Little Bangladesh,” but “little” was not enough to encapsulate its vigor. Anya liked it here. Maybe she could live without Jamuna Grocery.

Regaining awareness of her surroundings, Anya tilted her head upward and exchanged looks with a familiar face — two familiar faces: Chachi and Chachu. She had anticipated that they would arrive around seven or eight o’clock because they were usually tangled in more urgent affairs, but for once, they had the decency to arrive on time. Anya forced a grin. “Assalamualaikum.”

They immediately seemed distraught at her presence. “Wa alaikum as-salam,” Chachu reluctantly greeted. He mirrored Anya’s apathy. “May you please walk us to your house…I mean…apartment?” Upper class immigrants use the word “house” sparingly. 

Deep down, this backhanded sentiment regarding her living status had little value to Anya. To be truly wealthy was to be at peace with your identity, something eternally intangible to them.

No one was truly rich. 

1. Red spinach 2. Shrimp-based dish 3. Aunt 4. Uncle 5. South Asian women’s dress typically worn at major events 6. Crunchy snack in South Asia 7. Milk tea 8. South Asian street festival