A Blog of Seattle Arts & Lectures
By Anastacia Tolbert, WITS Writer-in-Residence *I’m wearing faded blue jeans spotted with white paint, a long, un-tucked NASA t-shirt, a burgundy hooded sweater, a pageboy hat, stripped socks and bl...
By Michael Overa, WITS Writer-in-Residence The first day of a new class, I’ve begun a rather nerve-wracking experiment (as if simply standing in front of thirty seventh or eighth grade students I’...
By Peter Mountford, WITS Writer-in-Residence When I was in middle school I had this magical power, which was very useful. The way it worked was that if I wanted a teacher to not call on me I could cam...
Months Later Let me tell you about the day my tongue broke down. It melted into fine dust, iridescent particles of lies and rabbit-quick explanations I tried to get underneath where you used to be, bu...
By Rachel Kessler, WITS Writer-in-Residence “The function of art is to do more than tell it like it is – it’s to imagine what is possible.” –bell hooks How do we present ourselves to the...
Where I’m From I come from Ding Dong, Beep Beep Beep, Sponge Bob Squarepants. I come from the comfy gold sofa, sitting at a brown desk and putting on lipstick. Where I come from the clock goes b...
By Samar Abulhassan, WITS Writer-in-Residence “It is like writing my eyes instead of hands.” “You know how when you go into the wilderness you are expected to bring out your trash, l...
Last week, as I sat in the back of the View Ridge Elementary School library, several classes of fourth graders began to file into the room, prompting me to consider the most appropriate attire for an ...
By Daemond Arrindell, WITS Writer-in-Residence It was my first day returning to a high school on the south side of Seattle, where I have taught during residencies for the past three years. I hadn̵...
By Laura Gamache, WITS Writer-in-Residence Years ago, my friend Linda and I were sitting in a circle of new mothers. Her son, Peter, was nine or ten. He was by far the oldest child at our gathering. H...