Category Archives: homepage gallery

First Thursday: Tam High Drawing and Painting Exhibition

May 1st, 2014

7 PM; Lower Level Hallway/Creekside Room

Celebrate the talents of Tam High Drawing and Painting class as we kick off their month-long art exhibit. The students used hand-cut stencils and watercolors to depict endangered animals.

by Xander Weaver-Scull
by Xander Weaver-Scull

A reception in the Creekside Room will include a discussion with the artists as well as West Marin artist Xander Weaver-Scull, whose visit to the classroom provided the inspiration for the students’ work. Food and beverages provided. Open to all ages, no registration required. Check out pictures from the last Tam High Exhibition at the Library here

Creative Writing Workshops

Forget essays and homework; discover what it means to let creativity run wild and write for pleasure at these weekly creative writing workshops. We will read and discuss poetry, fiction, non-fiction, slam poetry, and any other type of writing that strikes our fancy. These workshops offer the opportunity to explore your writing skills in a relaxed, informal environment. Creative Writing Workshops aren’t about getting a good grade or writing a critical analysis, they are about trying new things and creating something exciting to put on a blank page.

If you don’t feel like writing, that’s fine too, you are always welcome to just hang out, eat candy, and listen to what others have to say. You can read past students’ writing here. Like our Facebook page here.


All events are open to high school students only.

What Happened During the Fire? by Ariana Agnew

What happened during the fire?

The sky painted orange and speckled with sunset,

Those flames lapping at the sloped ceilings,

The walls ready to burst with yet more heat,

More ash and debris to smother the air,

What happened inside the smoke?

As it curled like a snake around the room,

The world stifling and scalding, the ember-arrows flying fast,

What happened inside the haze?

As everything went rainbow with red,

And the burning blurred all that was?

What was lost in the blaze?

As windows shattered and screams were let loose?

What was said in the shrieks?

As souls cried for mercy and lovers, each other,

What happened when it was silent?

The crackling of warmth and the groaning of wood the only sounds,

The shouts choked by the acid air, the world brilliant and dark,

And so terribly bright.


What happened during the cold?

In the rains and snows that chilled the glow,

Too late to stop this treacherous, beautiful thing, too late to save the victims,

But arriving just in time to slip ice over gray skeletons and melted hearts,

Just in time to freeze the chaos forever,

So that people would stop, and look upon this place, and wonder,

What happened during the fire

but never know.

First Thursday: Screen Printing Workshop Pictures

Huge thanks to Sam and James from Chromaculture Screen Printing and Design in Novato for teaching us the art of screen printing and helping us come up with our own designs!

demo pickingshirts pickingshirts2 designing funnyhaha mvpl2 mvpl jamesbrig jamesmix kate talk mtd socrafty everyone everyone2


April 3rd, 2014 at 7 PM                          

imagesSee what it takes to make a concert poster come alive or a t-shirt stand out! In this hands-on workshop Sam Kraus, owner of Chromaculture Screen Printing and Design, will teach you the fundamentals of screen printing. You’ll learn everything from how to create the artwork to the process of printing. 

Everyone who registers will leave the workshop with their own screen-printed shirt. Registration required and space is VERY limited. Register here.

If registration is full, you can add your name to the wait-list here and we will notify you if space becomes available. 



Reasons by Kate Luebkeman

On the night of August 29th 2013, I found out one of my best friends had died. This scenario had often played out in my nightmares, but I never imagined it happening in real life. The Marin County sheriff declared that my friend, who I had seen laughing and smiling a mere four days earlier, had been found dead; washed up from the water underneath the Golden Gate Bridge like a seashell washed up onto shore. She was beautiful, but cracked and chipped from life’s thunderous waves.

She had the biggest smile in the room, the most creative costume at Halloween, and the loudest laugh. She will live on forever in beautiful memories and pictures; and, she will look down on me and other loved ones as the brightest star in the sky.

The road ahead will be full of sleeplessness nights and broken hearts; especially rough for myself and others affected. However, this piece of writing I constructed a few days after her passing is a fundamental step in my personal healing process. I share it with you today in the hopes of touching or helping even one person realize that there is nothing more valuable or worth saving than your own life.

There must be many reasons for a person to take their own life; I can’t imagine it being just one. But maybe there was one thing that threw you over the edge. One event that formulated the feeling that you just couldn’t take it any more. Like if you received a ticket from accidentally running a red light, or the server gave you the wrong order at Jamba Juice. Maybe you had a bad dream that put you in an especially depressed mood, or you earned a low grade on a test. Your brother yelled at you for taking too long to get ready in the morning. You couldn’t pay for lunch because you forgot your money. The parking space you always snag was taken. Your pen ran out of ink in class and no one had an extra pen. Your biking wound contracted an infection. You ate a spoonful of yogurt in the morning, only to realize that it had been molding for months. Your asshole boss told you that your method of bagging groceries was stupid. Your mom told you that if you didn’t study for the SATs you were stupid. Your counselor told you if you didn’t take five AP classes you were stupid. You convinced yourself that you were stupid. You opened up a starburst packet only to find the absence of your favorite flavor: orange. You pressed “seek stations” on the radio and the Backstreet Boys came on- what the heck was this world coming to? You looked in the mirror and thought that you looked fat. You came home from school and saw that your fly had been down all day and no one had cared enough to tell you. You thought that meant no one cared about you. You thought back to last time you saw me; I was drunk, and didn’t even say goodbye. You thought that meant I didn’t care. Maybe that’s why you jumped.

You were wrong, I did care. See, while you were stuck remembering all the shitty times, you must have forgotten to think of all the reasons NOT to jump. You forgot all the good. Maybe if you’d remember that time you found a four leaved clover. Or when you successfully slack-lined three feet. Or when you beat all of us at arm wrestles, despite being less than one hundred pounds. Your last kiss. When you walked down the street and some guy wolf whistled and you blushed. You looked in the mirror at prom and finally saw yourself the way we saw you: beautiful. You hung out with all of us in an Elf Costume because you thought it was comfortable, and we called you a goon. You played dress up one random afternoon at my house, and we acted like four year olds in ABBA costumes. You laughed for more than half an hour when I cooked the worst pasta imaginable while backpacking in the Sierras. You tried the pasta and spit it out and almost threw up. You were in hysterics when we had to eat it all. You took me on my first mountain bike ride, and convinced me that five miles an hour was not even that slow. We went on a ride after school and our friend flew across the trail and sprained her wrist: but, we still rode down Tenderfoot. You kicked ass at nationals. You earned three A+s in a row on essays you wrote. You were given your own horse, and absolutely adored it. You drove your car for the first time. You had us all over for a pool party and we ate ridiculous amounts of chocolate cake. Your family’s reminders that they loved you. Our continuous never-ending love for you.

Maybe you had chemical imbalances in your brain that prevented you from seeing the good. Maybe you had deep emotional wounds that none of us knew about, or you suffered through a secret traumatic event. Maybe it was all of this and more. I only wish that I had known. If best friends are meant to tell each other everything, then why did you stay quiet? Why did you suffer alone?

If only I had told you my story. I have been there. I know what it feels like. Just a few months earlier, only a mile away from you. The wind whipped around me; so strong that I started to lose my sense of balance. I half-hoped that I would just fall and not have to make the decision. My tears flew around my head, raining on the rocks below. I stood at the edge, and decided that if no one came and looked for me, if no one noticed I was gone, then no one cared if I died. I braced myself to jump. Demons surrounded my mind and refused to move. A dark abyss flooded my vision. A creeping sense of shadowy impulse clasped my body in ways I cannot put into words. I squeezed my eyes shut in the hopes of fighting the darkness. Reasons flooded my mind; reasons of betrayal. Reasons of loneliness. Reasons of pain. Reasons of isolation. Reasons flooded into my brain like a flushing river from a broken dam.

I opened my eyes, and for the first time in over half an hour I realized where I was. Looking out on the desert landscape, my eyes followed the silhouetted figure of a giant, far away rock structure and noticed the prickles on a nearby cactus. The more I noticed in the land around me, the less dark my world seemed. And then, something changed. By some miracle, a fleeting thought brushed through my mind. But there’s so much I want to see. I then thought of my upcoming gap year, my dreams of changing the lives of sick children with music therapy, my passion for reading and learning. I forced myself to start naming countries that I wanted to see, foods I wanted to try, and people I wanted to meet. I pictured my future wedding and the looks on my parent’s faces upon seeing their first grandchild. I forced myself to think of everything I would miss out on. My demon’s surrendered.

I was able to do what you were not. I was able to see what beauty there is in this world and force the darkness away. If only I could go back in time and show you how. You were so strong, but not strong enough to do it alone. I will always regret that I didn’t tell my story sooner so you could have fought the darkness. I wish you understood that suicide is a permanent fix to temporary feelings. There is so much more our world has to offer; beauty, wonder, elegance, excitement, first impressions, last impressions, relationships, hard work, opinions, wind chimes, ferry rides, fish tanks, s’mores, rideshares, rainy days, bike rides, vibrant cultures, stunning views, train rides, sunrises, sunsets, discovery, music, happiness, heartbreak, growth, learning, dreams, imagination, and love.

See, there may be many reasons to commit suicide. But there are infinite reasons to stay alive.

 [Editor's note: If you, or someone you know, is having suicidal thoughts, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline and/or seek professional help immediately.]

Slam Poetry Competition Pictures

Thank you to everyone who made the Slam Poetry Competition a rousing success! The 10 poets inspired, moved, and awed an audience of over 260 people. Below are a few photos from the event. If you have any photos you would like to share, please email them to me at Poems from the evening can be found here (I will add more poems as I receive them). Video of the event will be posted when it becomes available.

Pre-slam prep with pizza and our amazing emcee, Chinaka Hodge…

before slam 1 preslam3preslam2

A few poets…


photo credit: Matt Ross

photo credit: Matt Ross


photo credit: Matt Ross

photo credit: Matt Ross



In front of a huge crowd…insta crowdshot

Photo credit: Matt Ross

Photo credit: Matt Ross

Impressing judges…

photo credit: Matt Ross

photo credit: Matt Ross




photo credit: Matt Ross

photo credit: Matt Ross

A winner…


And a well-deserved standing ovation for all…



The applause and the accolades continued well after the competition was over….


cooldude ilyanaandbro laetita fatherandson chinakakatielalepops chinakafathersonhahamymom dudes lalune slamcrowd1


What Happened That One Time I Died by Alex Price

by Alex Price

Five Doctors poured over me all at once as I entered the emergency room. Poking, prodding, stitching, and doing other things that they’re paid to do. Why you might ask? Why am I lying on a doctor’s bed, mangled, broken, and bleeding from all parts of my body, even the one part that no hands could ever touch? Well some dumbass going 70 down highway 101 bumped into me while I was trying to cross the street. Hah. I wish that was how it went. Then I might be able to blame someone else other than myself and my close friend Mr. Daniels. Then I might actually win a lawsuit and get some money off of the jackass who hit me in his Lexus. If I survive.

“Doctor, do you think he’ll make it?” one of the nurses whispered standing a little too close to the doctor. God that was fucking cliche. Please don’t let me die like this. Please don’t let me die surrounded by people who probably studied for medical school by re-watching Grey’s Anatomy and House. Silence. I try and open my eyes and see what had happened, but I couldn’t. Then all of a sudden I was dreaming. I was looking around the doctor’s room and everyone else who had been in the room was on the ground covered in blood. A new doctor walked in. He whore all white and he was covered in what I guessed was the blood of the other doctors. Every inch of his skin was black, not African American black, I mean black you could barely tell any facial features from looking at him head on he was so black. He was absent of all color, absent of life. I was screaming in my head. Dying to be free. I tried to move, but I couldn’t. It felt like I was buried under ten tons of dirt. He stood by my side and took my hands in his and held them in the air for what seemed like eternity. Then it was suddenly over and I could, for lack of better description, feel my soul leaving my body and transitioning into yet another dream relm. I felt myself floating. Like in water, but I wasn’t in water. I was floating in myself. I started feeling the floating sensation leaving, replaced by solid ground beneath my feet, but there was still nothing around me but dark and empty space. Then two doors slowly appeared in front of me. It seemed they where absent of any color, if possible, it was like they where transparent without being see through. As I was contemplating opening one, the first began to glow. This glowing light coming out of the edges of the first door was the exact opposite of the color of the doors, it seemed like it was every color at once but still no color at all. What a trip. My natural curiosity compelled me to open that one. And I did. And I guess that’s when I started my new life as a dead person.


An Ode to High School Boys by Kate Luebkeman

Oh, how I love thee.

When I walk onto the school campus and see you scratching your crotches while talking about sports played entirely on the internet, it makes me just want to kiss you on the spot.

Everyday when I wake up, I look at my calendar and write down my excited daily bet on what underwear you are going to wear. Because, lets face it- you wear your pants low enough for everyone to see them. Oh, and those “I Love Beer” boxers really show the mature side of you.

At several points throughout the day, I have to remind myself of how outstandingly creative your vocabulary is. You are so right- “Gay” really does describe everything.

You have opened my eyes to the world of real, meaningful music- like 2chainz and Kanye. And I hope I don’t sound creepy, but I made a playlist of your favorite songs on my iPod after I heard them playing from across the hall, from the earbuds hanging over your ears.

You must be really popular and party a lot, because beer pong shirts are only worn by the most popular and charismatic people at school.

Thanks for putting those pictures of you mooning the camera on Facebook; now, I need no longer Google search “Channing Tatum” to find pictures of some quality ass.

I know you must have giant genetalia; your beautiful penis art drawn all over your desk is clearly just representing your reality. I believe you are very experienced with women; you must have fathered over twenty kids with the amount of  times I hear you yell “my boy” across school.

Damn, I wish I could just stay in High School forever just to be with you. Soon I’ll have to confront a whole other specimen… College Boys. I’m a little scared to be honest. What if they try to have intelligent, meaningful conversations with me, while respecting my rights as a young women?! I won’t know what to do.

Love forever and always,

Kate xoxo

Colorblind by Elizabeth Archer

She had grown to love the dark. Grown to love her dark mornings and dark evenings, dipped in black and glazed over with the familiar buzz of everything around her. All she knew was black. Her reds and yellows and violets were black. So were her sunsets, pink balloons and front yard full of sunflowers and marigolds. And yet, she had grown accustomed to her black curtains. She was used to hearing only the sounds of voices and the touch of the gentle world around her.

Sometimes, if she shined her father’s flashlight from under the sink and pointed it at her eyes, her black curtain would lift ever slightly, and become a lighter dark. This lighter dark was called “grey.” Black and grey. This was her pallet, and she had grown to find comfort in her boat, floating through her sea of darkness.

Her parents didn’t want her to go to school like all the other kids who could see the differences between their reds and yellows and violets. “It’d be difficult. You don’t want that. There are others options.” Options the girl didn’t want to pursue. She knew she could battle the light, live in her speck of dark and live amongst those who could see and experience what she heard and what she touched.

She asked her mother what she looked like once, reaching out to touch her mother’s face, then her own, running her fingers from her forehead to her chin. “Well, you’re beautiful,” her mother replied, touching her daughter’s hand.

“What color is that?” asked the girl.

At night, she was told the world mimicked her black curtains. The light was extinguished from the sky and replaced with her sea of black. At night the girl didn’t feel like was missing out. At last, the rest of the word experienced what she experienced, felt what she felt, and saw what she saw.

After Hours Triwizard Tournament Pictures


We gathered in the Creekside Room, where there were plenty of delicious snacks…

those who were brave enough to dry the drink were pleasantly surprised...

 And participants submitted their names to the Goblet of Fire…

Goblet of Fire

striking a pose when necessary…

Kate is always so camera shy...

Kate is always so camera shy…

First Challenge: Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans…


Second Challenge: “Quidditch”Quidditch1

Third Challenge: Name that Muggle…


Fourth Challenge: Get the Key Out of the Frozen Ice Cube…

this is mostly me looking astonished that the teams thought of BREAKING the ice. the teams were waaaay smarter than any of the librarians planning the event

this is mostly me looking astonished that the teams thought of BREAKING the ice. the teams were waaaay smarter than any of the librarians planning the event

Fifth Challenge: Unlock the box and find the book written on the piece of paper in the box…


 Sixth Challenge: As a team, complete the Harry Potter Crossword Puzzle located inside the book…


Quiz3 Quiz2

In the end, the Durmstrang Team won, but everyone had a great night. Thanks to everyone who spent the evening Triwizarding with us!