by Erin Reilly, ACW’s Program Director
“We’re not going to be here on Saturday. We’re not going to be here next week. We’re not going to be here the week after that. This is an opportunity for you, and for us, to do something that could be special together.” – Jon Sands at the beginning of ACW’s 2026 High School Writing Retreat
At the end of October, I had the pleasure of being involved in this year’s High School Writing Retreat—my first as ACW’s new Program Director. There was so much to take away from these two jam-packed days of performances, workshops, student readings, and community building. But most of all, I found myself wondering how different I might’ve been if this was something I got to experience in high school, and then desperately wishing I had.
The retreat began with introductions and short performances from our four visiting poets: Jon Sands, Lauren Whitehead, Denice Frohman, and Noah Arhm Choi. It was immediately apparent, through these performances, that each poet was bringing something inimitable to every highschooler sitting before them. Their performances were met with nods, laughter, and attention—both from the experienced, excited students as well as the ones who were more timid and unsure.
I could not conceivably write out all of my favorite moments from the retreat here, because you’d have ten pages of my babbling to sift through. But what stood out to me the most about the students who participated in these two days of workshops was their immediate display of vulnerability. At the end of the first day, students were encouraged to sign up for an open-mic reading of their work. I placed the sign-up sheet by the door and, mistakenly thinking these students were like I was in high school, thought the sheet would be largely empty. I did not expect the sheet to fill up in minutes, for the next hour to be jam-packed with students sharing poems about themselves and the world around them.
I was struck both by the words of the students and the reactions and support from those in the audience—over one-hundred of their high school peers, our visiting poets, and ACW staff. I never would’ve gotten up in front of so many people and read my work in high school. I only did something remotely similar to what these students were doing when I was twenty-seven, in grad school. By the minute, this program was becoming increasingly rare and undeniably formative.
“There are people I only know because I met them at Adirondack Center for Writing,” one student told our Executive Director, Nathalie. “We don’t see each other very often, but we know each other on a different level because of writing.”
On Thursday night, our visiting poets put on performances here at ACW for our annual Poetry on Broadway event. To say this night was inspiring would be to undersell it, though inspired was certainly one of the feelings I walked away with. Each of the visiting poets brought something unique—something palpable—to the microphone on Thursday. They had our audience tearing up and doubling over. They displayed the kind of vulnerability and passion that they asked of the high school students earlier that day. They showed us that art is freedom, and they let us share in that freedom with them.
The second day of the retreat, which ran like a well-oiled machine, featured one more writing workshop for the students and then a group writing session. I found myself in awe of the students again, both of their willingness to collaborate and of the words they came up with together. Students wrote together about their self worth, the pressure they felt from the world around them, their love for the Adirondacks. Since the retreat, I have thought often about the student who looked at the audience in front of her and said how she wished they could all go back to pretending they were pirates. I realized how far away that feeling had felt for me, too, but with just a sentence, she brought it right back.
I have loved every program I’ve had the privilege of taking part in since I started here at ACW, but the High School Writing Retreat, and accompanying Poetry on Broadway, struck quite a chord with me. I feel emboldened by the courage of every teen I met two weeks ago, and am once again reassured by the power that writing holds.
