
Submissions are open NOW through June 5, 2026.
Writing is an artform that is meant to be read by a reader! Blackbird & Company Educational Press is proud to announce a call for submissions to student writers, Kindergarten through 12th grade, who courageously write from the heart using our curriculum.
The theme of Reveal 2026? Our students’ big ideas! This journal’s name—Reveal—captures the idea that every piece of writing is a revelation about the author, both in terms of what they stitch together in their imagination and what they send out into the world.
And the bonus? Submit work early, by March 31, 2026 and you will be automatically entered to win a Solo Stove Campfire kit.

For added inspiration, here is a published piece from Reveal 2025 crafted by Hadleigh R. as she worked through Introduction to Composition: The Essay, Volume 1. Notice—not a single passive verb throughout! Enjoy!
The Whirligig
Catching a glimpse of my sister waving at me from the corner of my eye, I hustle across the lush lawn of the rest stop to join her and Jagger at the workout/playground area. A tarp covers the playground to protect it from the Texas sun, making an excellent place to rest. Unlike most play structures, this one is metallic and sturdy, perfect for a teenager hoping to enjoy some quality time with her younger siblings at the rest stop. They wave their hands excitedly from the top of the highest structure as I come closer, but I don’t plan on climbing it and making a fool of myself, so I beeline for a small green circular platform with a wheel for holding on. I should be able to keep an eye on them from there. But when I step onto it, gripping the wheel for balance, I realize I missed an important detail. The dais is tilted so that whenever someone steps onto the platform, they start to spin, their weight fueling the centrifugal force. In a single second, the world whips around me at full speed, blurs of green and brown as I spin faster than I imagined possible. I glance down at my hands, which seem to be the only things around me not twirling. My fingers squeeze tight to the metal, not daring to let go. Only yards away from me, my mother walks our mutt. I yell for help, but she doesn’t seem to hear me as my view of her whips by again and again. Closing my whirling eyes, I spin alone in a vacuum chamber of blackness. When my mom shouts my name, I open my eyes to the swirling colors again, summoning the courage to leap from my imprisoned state. Facing my fear of twisting my ankle, I leap from the apparatus, stumbling to lean giddily on the now-motionless handle as the world still spins. Once it slows, I lurch around to come face-to-face with a concerned-looking mother and her two, small, openmouthed children. Smiling weakly, I apologize, loping away as fast as I dare, my siblings following close behind.
~Kimberly