You'll Love These!

All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group  (January writers).  Everyone is required to comment on at least THREE different pieces of writing.  You must post the comment here on the blog (below the post is the "comments" link to click) AND cut and paste your published comments, complete with dates and time stamps, on to a Word document and turn it in to me by February 13, on Google Classroom.  You must do both to get credit for comments this month.

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"Interview with Pro Skier Grete Eliassen" by Lauren H

My family happens to consist of multiple and very accomplished athletes. One of my cousin's success has grown over the past two decades and has become one of my role models and who I seek advice. Watching her growth and success during and after her competition days has led me to share her journey to who she is today. Specifically, my interview of my cousin Grete Eliassen - a professional skier who I’ve been fortunate to grow up watching her compete in front of my eyes, whether on television or in person. Grete has always held a special place in my family due to my father teaching her how to do her first 360 on skis, not knowing she would become a highly decorated and accomplished professional skier in the future. Leading me to ask Grete when did she realize she had the potential to become pro? Grete started skiing at two years old and “fell in love with skiing at ten years old” After taking a trip at the age of 12 to Bridger Bowl Montana. Grete realized the potential she possessed when learning about the event there called Queen of the Mountain. Asking when she had the realization of having the potential to become pro, Grete stated that she “knew that if my parents let me sign up for the contest, I would win, that's how sure I was of my ability as a skier. Even though I was too young to enter, but in my mind, I had the thought that I can do this and feel like I had that mindset since I was twelve.” Igniting her passion for skiing and her desire, by in her words, “always wanted to prove I was the best.”

As a teen, Grete was selected to join the Norwegian Ski Team, and at 16, she won the Junior Super-G event at the Junior World Championships in France, and placed third in Slalom at the Junior Olympics in Slovenia. Leading to my next question asking when she officially became a pro athlete? Grete, at the age of 16, won the U.S. Open, which in her opinion, was when she “became a name in the skiing world and got more sponsors and my career launched from there.”

     Asking Grete to reflect at the start of her career, specifically the Junior Olympics, and the effect of competing at that event at such a young age of seventeen. Grete stated, “I was on the Norwegian ski team at the time and the year prior they had a junior competition, but I didn't make it because I wasn't good enough and I remember when I didn't make it I really worked hard that following year skiing and training really wanting to be a part of that event.” The following year, Grete would be named as one of the top skiers in the world, and competing at the Junior Olympics led to her getting the bronze. Grete states, “ I was one of the top skiers of the world at that time and to get a medal shouldn’t have been super hard for me, but I had to ski well, and I remember with the giant slalom I skied out and didn't have a second run so I couldn't try again.” However, her determination carried from the previous year would be proven to the world when competing in the slalom event resulting in receiving bronze. Grete  reflects back, stating, “I made the podium being surrounded by the best kids at the time, and it was literally being at the Olympics.” That was back when Grete was ski racing before her switch of specialty consisting of “skiing around the gates and going fast like Lindsey Vonn and even competing against her.” The Junior Olympics was a foreshow for many athletes such as Grete to demonstrate their success to come. 

In spite of her success in alpine skiing, she soon found her love of freeskiing. Asking what caused the change from racing consisting of Slalom and Super G to Freestyle and the impact? Grete revealed what led to her switch, saying, “I didn't like rules, and to me, freeskiing was super fun for myself and didn't like having my skis put in a box. I wanted to express myself differently. I wanted to go off jumps and loved getting air. To me air time is the ultimate feeling, jumping up and grabbing your skis then coming down.” Grete relayed her longed passion stating “I wanted to freeski because I didn't like the rules of ski racing and wanted to be free.” Since her switch, Grete has won the U.S. Open four times, as well as two gold, two silver, and two bronze medals at the Winter X Games. In fact, Grete is the only female skier to have medaled in both the Halfpipe and Slopestyle X Games events. Most people even if not interested in winter sports know about the X Games so what was it like to compete and win in Aspen? Grete responded saying “it was amazing! When I first became a pro athlete it was back when I was 17 and won the first freeskiing open but they didn't have women's freeski events at the X Games.” It wasn't until two years later into her professional career that she was finally able to compete at the X Games as a freeskier representing Norway. Reflecting back, Grete states, “it was the coolest thing ever, I remember receiving the invite and leaving to attend.” Aspen definitely holds a special place for her as she proclaims, “skiing in the halfpipe for the first time was so exciting because it's the perfect halfpipe, the perfect feature and everything at the X Games is manicured perfectly.” Grete reveals other notable parts by it as “not only enjoyable to ski [the halfpipe] but also fun to compete against others.” Describing her thoughts on the run that led to her winning the event: “ I remember going and landing all these new tricks that I didn't even realize it and when I came down and everyone hugged me and I was super excited. I looked up and saw my name with the gold medal next to it and was blown away and that's when it really catapulted my career to the next thing.”

Setting records and increasing the number of times being on the podium, Eliassen set out on an ambitious two-year film project with Red Bull, called “Say My Name.” In April 2010, she achieved the Hip Jump World Record. Reaching speeds of 60 miles an hour downhill, hit the custom 30 foot “hip” feature and soared more than 31 feet in the air. Still to this day no woman has ever come close to reaching this height on skis. Furthermore, some of her achievements include placing first two times and third once at the FIS World Championship.

Growing up watching Grete winning competitions led to my surroundings posting her in action whether in Vogue magazine or her pictures spread around the Oakley store. In 2010, I was invited to the ‘Say My Name’ film premiere produced by Red Bull which was a film about Grete’s exploration of the backcountry with the goal to inspire and evolve women’s skiing. For years viewing her sponsors supporting her led to me asking: what was your experience working with major sponsors such as Red Bull, GoPro, Oakley and more that are known to be associated with the best of the best athletes? Grete responded stating “I was like my own agent when I was skiing but I was super good at networking at competitions and that's how I was able to have these amazing sponsors.” Grete recalls, “I remember when I was 12 years old I wrote my first letter to oakley saying I was going to be one of the best skiers one day you should sponsor me and of course they said no because they aren't looking for a 12 year old girl at the moment.” Then at 15, so three years later she became sponsored by oakley. Due to her drive, which opened up opportunities with the support of her sponsors to grow. Stating, “it was super fun and I still work with a lot of the companies that I was sponsored by, always leave the door open and don't burn a bridge with anyone.”

Grete has become a role model for myself over the years watching her struggles and accomplishments as well as her continuing her passions following her professional competitive years. Grete’s work over the years with the Women’s Sports Foundation started by tennis legend Billie Jean King led to her to become the president of the foundation in 2016. Grete was able to further her involvement within the community of female athletes. Her involvement with the foundation began when invited to the salute to women in sports gala in NYC. Grete announced “I really connected with and fought hard to participate because I was feeling the same way with freeskiing at the time because we weren't really allowed at first.” Expressing her determination she shared with other athletes part of the foundation by “always pushing and learning how to negotiate to work our way to make sure our sports were seen.” The Women’s Sports Foundation goes into urban areas and give sports opportunities to girls that never had a chance. As well as helping athletes that lack marketing in their sport to achieve their goals and gain sponsorship opportunities. As president, she helps raise money through the foundation and lobbies at capitol hill for girls in sports and lobbied specifically for the High School Accountability Act by speaking to senators and representatives. Grete exclaimed she feels so lucky as a pro skier that she was able to do “what I love to do and I feel grateful and need to give back for the next generation and give more opportunities to more girls.” Carrying out her passion about giving young girls the same opportunities as boys when it comes to sports.

"Baking With Drishti " by Drishti M

How to Make: 

Cinnamon Walnut Banana Bread 

     Do you happen to have overly-ripe bananas sitting on your kitchen counter? Craving something sweet and high in potassium? Why not make a loaf of banana bread! Banana bread is one of the most simplest yet delicious recipes you can make in your kitchen; you can have a slice for breakfast while enjoying a warm cup of coffee, share it with a friend for a light afternoon snack, or even serve it as a dessert at the dining table during the holiday season. In fact, you probably have most of the ingredients required for this recipe in your kitchen right now! My mom and I love to bake together for fun; this is one of our favorite recipes to create throughout the year, especially when we have leftover bananas at home. In my family, baking is our way of spending quality time together; it is about creating the foods we love from scratch while enjoying each other’s company. With baking, one thing is always certain: sweet, everlasting memories are bound to be made along the way. Also, the flavor combinations for such a versatile recipe like banana bread are practically endless! In this tutorial, I will be teaching you how to make cinnamon walnut banana bread. I have a HUGE sweet tooth, so I love to enjoy my banana bread with a fresh scoop of vanilla bean ice cream on top, or even with a light spread of Nutella chocolate. However, feel free to enjoy your cinnamon walnut banana bread however you’d like. 

P.S. If you are hesitant about baking from scratch, do not worry! This tutorial is thoroughly explained, and is simple enough to follow for those who have little experience in baking. Let’s get started! 

Overview:
Ingredients Materials

● One cup all purpose flour ○  1 cup all purpose flour ○  1 cup almond flour ○  1 stick of butter

○  Hand mixer ○  Cooking spray ○  Measuring cups/spoons

○  2 teaspoon baking powder ○  1 cup walnuts ○  4 bananas ○  3eggs ○  1 cup white sugar & brown sugar ○  1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract ○  1 teaspoon pure almond extract

○ 9x5 baking pan

● One cup all purpose fl

1. Preheat oven to 350 F
   
2. Smash bananas into smooth puree
   
3. Mix dry ingredients: almond flour, all purpose flour, baking powder, white sugar, brown sugar,
   salt, walnuts, cinnamon
   
4. Mix wet ingredients: banana puree, stick of butter, pure vanilla extract, almond extract, eggs
   
5. Combine both wet and dry mixtures into large bowl; do not overmix!
   
6. Pour batter in a 9x5 buttered loaf pan
   
7. Bake in oven at 350 F for one hour
   

Instructions 

I. ​Choosing the Right Bananas
I cannot emphasize this step enough. It is VERY important that the bananas you use in this recipe are ripe. The bananas should be very brown, soft, and squishy to the touch. Why? Bananas that are ripe tend to be sweeter in flavor; this will dramatically improve the taste of your banana bread. Also, ripe bananas are easier to mash into a smooth puree; you do not want lumpy batter! In essence, the browner and squishier your bananas, the better! You DO NOT want yellow, perfect-looking bananas. In fact, you want to use the ugliest bananas you can find for this recipe! Here is an example of what your bananas should look like..... 

II. ​Preparing the Batter
In a large bowl, combine your dry ingredients: almond flour, all purpose flour, baking powder, white sugar, brown sugar, salt, walnuts, and cinnamon. IMPORTANT: Make sure the walnuts you are using for this recipe are chopped into smaller pieces to prevent sinking in the batter. If the batter has large pieces of walnuts, this may give your banana bread an uneven, raw texture! For this recipe, I prefer to use both almond flour and all purpose flour in my batter. In my experience, I find that almond flour gives the bread a more sweeter, nuttier taste that will enhance the natural flavor of the bananas. However - if you do not

have almond flour - do not worry! You can simply double the amount of all purpose flour that is required for this recipe. In a separate bowl, combine your wet ingredients: banana puree, stick of butter, pure vanilla extract, pure almond extract, and eggs. TIP: If you prefer your banana bread to have a fluffier, cake-like texture, I recommend that you use 1-2 more eggs than the amount suggested by the recipe. Finally, combine both the wet and dry ingredient mixtures into a larger bowl. Using a hand mixer, mix the concoction until all the clumps of flour have disintegrated into the banana puree; however, DO NOT over mix your batter! In my experience, I find that overmixing the batter gives the bread a less desirable taste. According to science... the more you mix, the more gluten will develop in the batter. This means that your banana bread may lack moisture and taste really dry; we do not want this to happen! 

III. ​Preparing the Loaf Pan
It is VERY important you prepare your baking pan by coating it with either non-stick cooking spray, melted butter, or oil. For this recipe, I prefer to use a standard 9x5 inch baking pan. If you are looking for a softer bread texture, line the baking tray with parchment paper as well. If you prefer a crispier texture for the corners of your bread, skip this step and simply pour in the bread batter. To make sure there aren’t any air bubbles inside the batter, it is important that you lightly tap the bottom of the baking tray against a countertop. By now, your oven should be preheated to 350 F. Place the loaf pan into the oven and allow the bread batter to bake for around an hour. Don’t forget your oven mitts! Make sure you place the baking tray in the CENTER rack of the oven (to ensure even baking). The warm, delightful aroma of the sweet banana bread wafting out of the oven may be tempting, but you must remain patient and allow the batter to bake for approximately 60 minutes before you take out the pan! After the timer goes off, check to see if the batter has fully baked by poking a toothpick through the center of the bread. If the toothpick comes out clean, your bread has fully baked and is ready to be served! Happy baking... and eating! ☺

"Love Isn’t Real" by Isabela V

     For centuries, philosophers and thinkers have sought to define love. Some believe it to be a chemical reaction—an influx of hormones to the brain meant to initiate humans’ primordial purpose of reproduction. Some perceive it as the joining of two souls into one, like the celestial bodies of the universe colliding to create stellar explosions, bright and powerful. Others go as far to say that love is the driving force of humanity—the means by which the world goes around. It seems that in each person there exists a version of love that is unique to that individual. But the problem with defining love is that love itself cannot be defined. Its full capacity cannot be condensed into the boundaries of a short phrase or a simple sentence. We can only ​attempt​ to capture its essence. The Greeks, for example, believed there were seven types of love: ​Eros​, love of the body, ​Philautia,​ love of the self, ​Storge, f​ amilial love, ​Pragma,​ practical love, ​Philia, friendship, ​Ludus, ​playful love, and ​Agape​, universal love. Still, even with these classifications, love’s meaning remains abstract.
     In modern times, its meaning has been complexified by the internet and social media. Love has taken the guise of Instagram likes, heart emojis, and hashtags. Popular culture has normalized jealousy, competition, and toxicity. Love has become synonymous for infatuation. Movies and TV shows have taken love and watered it down to clichés—people look for love in the quiet corners of a coffee shop, or in the romance section of a bookstore. It seems that love can be found in an instant with a swipe right, and it can be broken just as fast with a status change. At some point, the value of love was lost somewhere amidst the sea of phone screens and text tones. For these reasons, “love” as defined by society simply does not exist. 

     This “love” is not real.

And so, the question remains answered. ​What is love?
Perhaps instead of trying to define exactly what love ​is​, it may be wiser to describe what love is not​: 

Love is not something that simply appears. Just as trees do not spontaneously generate, love starts as a seed that must be planted, nurtured, and cultivated until it bears its fruits.
Love is not a moment, but the amalgamation of moments that becomes the water to nurture its seeds.
Love is not a feeling—feelings fade. The butterflies in your stomach eventually fly away and the pounding in your chest eventually dies down. When this is gone, what will you have left?

Love is not the fulfillment of needs. It is not doing​ this ​in exchange for ​that​. A gardener does not water his plants in hopes that they will water him back—he does so because he wishes they would proliferate.
Love is not discriminant. It is neither male or female, black or white, or anything in between. Love is not the opposite of hate, for hate is love’s burning passion without the empathy.
Love is not a duty, because then it becomes an obligation—another task you have to perform and another worry on your plate. It is not a business contract.
Love is not dependence, because love should not make you a slave. If you cannot provide happiness for yourself, how could it be fair to rely on someone else to do it for you?
Love is not the merging of two halves into one, but the bridging of two wholes in the sharing of happiness.
Love is not yesterday, nor is it tomorrow, for love must withstand the test of time. Love is not only selfless, it is selfish, but it may never be self-righteous.
Love is not possession. It does not seek nor does it expect.
Love is not listening to respond—it is listening to understand.
Love is not a test of faith, for it must be a reminder of why your faith is strong.
Lastly, love cannot be contained. It may radiate like the sun, and its warmth may be enough to distort your vision of the horizon, but you cannot reach out and touch it, save it for later, or throw it away. 

     The idea of love is ever-changing and constantly evolving. Its presence is as certain as the beating of your heart in this very moment, but its strength is only as mighty as the heart that chooses to use it. And because no one will ever be able to truly define what love is, we can only assume what love is not, and when these conditions exist, only then is love real. 

Source:
Burton, Neel. “These Are the 7 Types of Love.” ​Psychology Today,​ Sussex Publishers, www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/hide-and-seek/201606/these-are-the-7-types-love.

"Untitled" by Cedrick M

     Why is it that my heart is always broken. Is there something wrong with me? Do I fall in love too quick? Am I not worth their time? Am I annoying? Or do I just fall in love with the wrong people? I don’t know what to believe anymore. I guess that’s what I get for wearing my heart on my sleeve.
     I once asked out who I thought in my opinion was one of the prettiest girls at school. A beautiful smile, sweet voice, and so nice that it would lift up everyone’s spirits. To my surprise she said yes. I was full of excitement and joy because of the fact she said yes. I took her out everywhere. Movies, eating, amusement parks, concerts, anywhere we could have fun. She would always smile to me. She’d laugh at my jokes. It would always lift my spirits up. She was the sun that shines on my life.
     I tried my best to be the best boyfriend on earth. I’d pay, I’d care, I’d let her borrow, I’d tend to her every need. I thought my life couldn’t get any better. I was the happiest person on earth. But something changed after a month of dating. I’d ask to hang out, she’d say she was busy. I’d ask again in a few days, again she was busy. I thought nothing of it so I let her be. The next day I wanted to walk with her to school, but she said she was getting dropped off early to make up a math quiz. I thought I’d get there early to surprise her and help her study. The next day I arrived at school, I saw her sitting with another guy. I knew the guy, he was on the basketball team and we were classmates in middle school. I slowly walked closer to say hi. But I heard something I wish I didn’t.

     “Hey what about the other guy you’ve been dating?”
      “Him? Oh he’s super annoying. I think your way better than him.”
      “I only said yes because I felt bad for him. He basically paid for everything we
did...”
     She only pitied me. Her laughs, her smiles, her love, it was all fake.
     My entire world just collapsed in a mere matter of seconds. My heart sank to depths unknown. The life I had been living was meaningless. I sprinted to the bathroom and threw up for what felt like hours.
     Before I knew it, no matter how different the person, no matter how much they promise me, I always heard the same thing. “He’s super annoying”. “He always wants to hang out”. “He isn’t worth my time”. “I’m so lucky! I don’t have to pay for anything!” I kept on deluding myself with these false hopes. I’ve gotten back up countless times just to get shot down again with the same pain. It was as if this was a disease that kept relapsing. A parasite that would not go away. A curse to never know love. When will this end? Why is it that my heart is always be stepped on and broken?.... 

Why should I even love?

I’m done with these relationships. No more.
I’m sick of being stepped on. No more.
I’m tired of being broken. No more.
I’m done giving my heart away so easily. No more.
Even after all the care I had given, the love I had shared, the time that I sacrificed.
I myself had a big heart to give and care for others.
But how is that those who have the biggest hearts can end up heartless? 

PS: The story is completely fictional, not my own experience :)

"The Power of a Voice" By Julia L.

 Ever since I was a little girl, my mother told me that my voice could heal people. 

As I grew older, I never realized the true capabilities of my voice. Class after class, singing meant little more than just a hobby. While it undoubtedly provided me the joy and fun as with other activities, I never understood it to be so powerful as to heal others. 

But on July 21st, 2019, everything was different. After years of practice and performance, nothing could prepare me for this. I walked up to the podium in the beautiful chapel before me, and sang a song for my mom as she lay on her deathbed. 

Just moments before my performance, I thought about how I started singing. When I was in first grade, I desired to perform in my school's talent show so I could debut the talent that had been hidden for so long. After years of singing “The Little Mermaid” songs in front of the TV, I figured I had what it took to step on that stage. While everyone in the family was advising me not to "embarass" myself, my mother was different. Realizing the potential within me, she encouraged me to audition, and after a successful trial, I became the singing star of my elementary school. 

However, reality drowned this warm-hearted thought, since she was not always well. Struggling with a mental illness for almost a decade, she would disappear from my life when her illness was at its worst. However, it took me years to realize the true reasons why​. ​For so long I was blind to her schizophrenia. All she wanted to do was conceal the darkness​ ​that consumed her. During her final relapse, I was not going to let her get away again. I made it my mission to become her beacon of light, and instill within her the resilience needed to battle this illness, similar to how she inspired me to pursue my passion for singing. 

Months and months later, facility after facility, nothing seemed to heal my mother, but one day, I thought back to her words from the past. She told me that I had a gift and that my voice could heal people. As her illness progressed, I realized that her advice could help her too. Thus, I incorporated my special gift into the care that I gave to her, and my God I was happy to see a bit of joy and comfort enter her eyes everytime. It was instances like this when I believed in the power of my voice.
And now, as I sang to her on this day, I was able to use my gift as a way to honor her soul. Ever since I was a little girl, my mother told me that my voice could heal people, and through my performance, I proved just that; I was able to provide solace to our family and friends, as one tearful faces now showed alleviation. 

There are many things that I learned from the hardships that I faced. For starters, my performance made me realize the special healing my talents can provide for others. Though my

voice has been there for me throughout most of my life, my interests in performing arts and academics have expanded as I have matured. In the future, I plan to not limit my artistic expression to singing but also further develop abilities in dance and theatre. This repertoire will allow me to entertain others in a multitude of ways. Most importantly, adding such skills to my arsenal allows me to keep my mother close, honor her and her story, and enlighten others about the truth of mental illness. 

Her battle with schizophrenia further established my love for helping others, as it inspired me to enter a field where I can do just that. In college, I hope to further study Psychology and Neuroscience, where I can more deeply research mental illness, and hopefully create new ways that we can treat them. From here, I will gain the expertise needed to help others live a life filled with happiness and satisfaction, 

Lastly, I was able to find comfort battling my own mental health issues. Struggling with anxiety, I used to feel weak and vulnerable. I believed that my sadness, constant worries and negative outlook on life was a product of who I was, something that could not be changed. Seeing all the pain and distress my mother went through, made me realize that the way we feel is sometimes bigger than ourselves. After getting the professional help that I needed, I am now on the road to living a satisfactory life. As of today I feel more confident than I ever have before, and see a bright path ahead in my future. 

No more struggles, no more pain, only peace.

"Social Disconnection" by Nathan S

     It’s a Friday afternoon. I am finally home and prepared for the weekend. Knowing myself, I will be able to find plans for this evening, so in a relatively good mood I indubitably am. I hop on the couch and hastily inquire my compatriots if they are willing to accompany me on an adventure to an unknown destination in my 2001 Toyota Tundra. And then, all of a sudden, something dreadful happens. I get a phone call. And this was no ordinary phone call. This was a phone call from none other than... my mother. An audible sigh of annoyance is made and I reluctantly answer. So I wait a few seconds, and answer “What?” in a groggy sort of tone as if I had just been resting. What annoys me is that she is never very succinct with her words. “Hi sweetie,” she says to me in a cheerful voice. I can hear the blinker of her car in the background. My mother has a habit of being bored when driving home, and calls either me or my sister just to chat. Though she has pure intentions, I honestly find it kind of pestering. “I was just wondering how your day was!” I finish the unsubstantial phone call. Though likely temporary, my mood is noticeably worse.
     I pick up Lucas and Alex, because they had the unfortunate mindset of waiting to acquire their driver’s license, whereas I took it upon myself to get mine within a week of my sixteenth birthday. (Dear reader, if you have you have your driver’s license or are in the process of getting one, good on you. If not...get on that. Seriously. It changed my life. Don’t be like Alex). My other friend Joe (name kept confidential) was a good boy and drove himself to my house, saving me precious drops of petrol. We didn’t really know what to do so we settled on an excursion to Victoria Gardens, the local mall. I can feel the juxtaposition of my fellow Chads in every stride,

and knowledgeable about previous visits, I am prepared for a lively outing. Upon our arrival, we dismount from the ute, and advance into the commercial center. As it is the dawn of the fifth moon in the week, the sidewalks teem with life. Very occasionally, I think it is fun to say things to random passersby, usually along the line of “hello” and survey the counteraction provided. Most of my friends are uncomfortable with it, and I get it, as I too am nervous myself. For some reason it takes courage to say something to someone you’ve never met before. We approach a couple walking in the opposite direction. I wave toward the couple as our paths converge, and say “Hello!” I made my gesture very unambiguously directed toward the couple. To my dismay, the couple acted as if my greeting was a facade. “Was he waving at me?” They might’ve said to one another.
     Most passersby that I observed seemed to feel uncomfortable with such an unfamiliar action. I took it upon myself to challenge everyone with me to greet at least two strangers. The completion of my aforementioned challenge seemed almost effortless for Alex to finalize. However, for Joe and Lucas, such an exhibition of oneself was not as easy. What was so different between Alex and the rest, that allowed Alex to so gracefully complete my trial, and for Joe and Lucas to struggle? As I examined the distinction between the two, I recalled one of Joe’s habits. He is consistently glued to the screen of his iPhone 11. Specifically scrolling through social media platforms such as Instagram and Twitter. How can such a socially connected person fail to perform a simple social interaction?
So I thought to myself, there seems to be a connection between social media, and social detachment. In this reality bestowed upon us, social interactions dictate our everyday lives. Us students have to interact with our teachers and our piers to be successful, and most workers have

to interact with their boss or their clients to be successful. Humans are social creatures. Without social cooperation, society would be nothing but twig huts, inhabited by measly humans with their pointy sticks scattered across the globe. Individual humans require the company of others. So naturally, with technology came the birth of social media. Humans are more connected than ever, but when it comes down to it, most of us lack the basic social functionality to confront a stranger. When I witnessed the incapability of my local community to acknowledge a friendly greeting from a stranger, I saw the irony of our “connection.” It is because of this irony that I try to be as outgoing as possible. I of course indulge in our technological advancements, but I find myself wanting to break societal patterns. It would be a falsehood to declare that I never find myself in an awkward situation where I turn to technology. I too take out my phone and fake doing something important during uncomfortable elevator rides. But anytime someone gives me an unfriendly look when I behave in contrast to a societal norm, I feel satisfaction in knowing that I am not a copy-pasted replica of what society wants me to be. And honestly, nobody is.
     That’s where the problem lies. I see too many people even at this school that seem to act in a way that is appealing to their so-called friends, despite their true nature. Changing yourself to allure people is not the way to make true friends. If you embrace your uniqueness, like-minded individuals will come to you.

"M&Ms" by Yuan M

     Feet shuffling, kids screaming, music from inside the stores fills your ears, the aroma from the food court enters your nostrils as you can’t help but feel a sense of hunger. The mall has always been a place of fun and excitement when I was growing up. The shopping mall represents a place that is apart of my youth, where I could spend quality time with my family. On this summer day however, I was uncertain whether I would be able to spend even another hour with them.
     I was around 4 years old when I went to the mall with my family. We just went shopping for the upcoming school year. After a long day of walking, perspiration was on my face and I was exhausted. I went with my older sister to the vending machine to get a drink. The cool and crisp taste the ice, cold water helped quench my thirst. On the way back to my parents, I asked my sister, “Can I get some candy, Ate?” My sister reluctantly handed be 75 cents as I started approaching the dispensers filled with candy. My mouth starts to water as my eyes veer through the various assortments color and flavor that are in front of me. I finally decided on the peanut M&Ms as I have never tried them before. I held a rainbow of colors into the small, pale palm of my hand. My eyes glitter with excitement as I am about to indulge in a sweet surprise. I take one of the blue peanut M&Ms and place it in my mouth. The taste of the chocolate and peanut butter hits my taste buds. Then, I suddenly hear silence, it was like the world around me has stopped. It happened in a flash, and my skin started to swell up all over. My eyes started becoming watery, I started becoming cold all over and I had this feeling that I wanted to throw up. It was so severe in my throat however, my throat swelled up so much it was like somebody was trying to choke me. It was so hard to breathe that I eventually collapsed on the floor. My eyes were so watery to the point everything was blurry to my vision, I had trouble keeping my eyes open.  Muffled noises started surrounding me as my sister was screaming for help. Eventually my parents came, they called 911, and immediately started carrying me out of the mall. My family was frantically trying to get me to the ambulance as stares were glaring in my direction. I could barely keep my eyes open at this point.  Everything else I remember was a blur; but the next time I opened my eyes, a bright light was making it hard for my vision to adjust to the light intensity. I remember waking up in a hospital bed with an IV injected into my arm, dressed in a hospital dress and my entire family surrounding my bed. The doctor later explained to me and my family that I had a near fatal allergic reaction to whatever was in the M&Ms that I ate. The doctor came to the conclusion that it was most likely the peanut content in the M&M that triggered my allergic reaction. The doctor recommended me to visit an immunologist to test any other substances I might be allergic to.
     My parents later took me to an immunologist where they extracted some blood from me, and as a result, they confirmed that peanuts were the cause of my allergic reaction. The immunologist prescribed me to carry an epipen at all times. An epipen is a device that administers a dose of epinephrine, a substance that is used as a treatment in the event of a severe allergic reaction.
     Even at such a young age, I was grateful that nothing bad happened to me because that experience definitely could’ve been fatal. Everywhere I go, I always make sure I have my epipen with me and always look out for myself when I go out to eat. As a child, I was so encapsulated by vibrant colors and tasty flavors; however, I learned that even the most small, wonderful things in life can be bad for you in some cases. This experience was honestly a blessing in

disguise, at a young age I learned that life is short and in one instant it all could go away. I was so young at the time so it was hard for me to really comprehend what was going on, but in hindsight I now realize how important this experience was and how it shaped me into the person I am today. I used to be really insecure about having my allergy, but over time I’ve accepted that its a part of me and is something that makes me unique. It is important to live life to the fullest and make the most of every moment because you never know when life can be taken away from you. That day, a small, bright piece of candy almost took mine.

"The Birthplace of Humanity" by Joshua- Zion H

A home where I’ve never lived

My home is in a place to which I’ve never lived
I’ve always felt connected, despite our barrier between Like a mesh screen, obscuring what cannot be seen But it is still my home

It’s not always been a beautiful place
Violence is a beating heart, hatred coursing through its veins Brother versus Brother, how did it come to be this way After the 15 century, it will never be the same
But it is still my home

The scar of imperialism has already done its damage
People tellin’ me to go back to where I came from, but I never have yet But I will soon, or at least that’s what the plan is
To visit my roots in the Savanna grasslands

That’s why I’m proud to say
And I mean this in every way
The birthplace of humanity, Africa
Is my home and in my heart, it will forever stay 

     When I wrote this piece during my sophomore year, I had no idea that I would go to Africa two years later. My late grandfather, grandmother, and mother are from a small West African country called Sierra Leone or as we call it ‘Salone’. I’ve always known that my mother’s side of my family is from there and I can even speak the native tongue called Krio. My grandmother never spoke about her childhood and what it was like to live in Sierra Leone and I would never really ask, so growing up I didn’t know much about Sierra Leone expect the fact that it’s in Africa and I have family out there. One of my grandmother’s closest friends had a husband that recently died and she told my grandmother that she could go with her back home. The rest of the family saw this as an opportunity for us all to visit our homeland, because the last time they tried to go, the airline went out of business a week or so before they were supposed to depart. Fast word 14 years later, I’m on my way to LAX and beginning my journey to the homeland. But getting there was no easy feat, let me tell you that. First starters, my mom almost made us our flight at LAX because she somehow lost both her itinerary and mine so she wanted to print out another set at my grandmother’s house. But neither my aunts or I had any idea that this happened because my mom told us that she needed to get some bags or something. When my aunt finally went inside to see what my mom was doing, she absolutely lost it because we were already running out of time to get to the airport. By some miracle of God, we made it just in time for our flight to Montreal for our layover and we stayed there for about 6 hours before we got on a 12-hour flight to Sierra Leone. Have you ever gone somewhere, when you’ve never been but still feel right at home? That’s exactly how I felt when

we landed. It was so amazing to experience my people’s culture first hand because when I was growing up, all I got to hear were stories. Seeing family members for the first time, interacting with locals, brushing up on my Krio and going to where my ancestors were living were all-powerful things I encountered and I would 100% do it all over again. This whole trip was very important and meaningful to me because I already crossed going to my homeland off my bucket list and when I heard Steve Harvey encouraging all black people to go back to Africa once in their lifetime, I knew for sure that I need to do it as well. So I also encourage African-Americans and other ethnicities as well to go to Africa because not only is it culturally diverse and awesome to experience, it’s also because it’s the birthplace of humanity.

"Our New Normal" by Alison F

     October 11, 2013, a normal day in our household, until we got the news. My family and I rushed to the hospital when we heard that my grandma was admitted. My sister and I were sitting in the backseat of the car wondering what was happening because no one had updated us yet. When we got there, my uncle was talking to my mom and my dad outside, telling them exactly what happened. When my parents walked back to us, my sister and I were waiting impatiently for them to tell us what happened. We soon found out that she was diagnosed with end stage copd, which is a severe shortness of breath even at rest. Everyday tasks left her more and more breathless as it was tougher for her to do anything at all. She ended up staying in ICU for 3 weeks and then was transferred to a rehabilitation center. Each day waiting for the news that she was progressing and getting better was difficult because we never knew when we would get that news. My entire family and I had to adjust our lives to this situation that has happened and it made us realize so much. We would go and visit her every single day and have different times when we would go so everyone still had time to work and do their daily tasks. I remembered,as the months passed by, having the doctor tell us ,“ Her condition is getting better and better as the days pass by and she is able to talk again.” We were all so happy to hear the news and when we would go and visit her we would tell her about our day and what was happening at that moment in time. Just hearing her respond to us would make us all feel better and her voice would comfort us. After a year passed, we thought she would be able to come back home with us and we would take care of her there, but we got unfortunate news. We were told that she was unable to return home, as her condition progressively worsened. She lost her ability to verbally communicate, breath on her own, and move without assistance. It broke all of our hearts when we heard this because she was the matriarch of our family and would be there for all of us when we needed her the most. We all came together as a family and decided to put our grief aside in order to be there for her the most and to not let it show that we were sad. We all learned how to communicate with her by learning different signs so we would understand as well. We also helped her get comfortable when she wasn’t and would ask the nurses to help her when she needed it. This whole situation took a major toll on my uncle, mom and especially my grandpa. My mom and uncle went searching around everywhere for the best long term rehabilitation center that she could stay in. After many different options, talking to the directors of the centers, and visiting them, they found a place that they loved the most, which was in Corona. My grandpa had to change his daily routine and adjust to his new life of being at home without her. Each and every one of us would do our share by helping out my grandpa doing his everyday errands to accompany him on his daily visits to the hospital to make sure he is eating and taking care of himself. Over the years, this situation has become our new normal, as she has still been in the hospital for 6 years so far. My family makes sure to still include her in everything that we do, by having everyone go

and visit on her birthday, as well as our own birthdays. We also make sure to decorate her room to accompany every holiday and make her feel special, especially on Christmas, since it is her favorite holiday. My family and I make sure to stick to all of these traditions so we make her feel that she is not excluded from any family events. We also take pictures of special events that we do so we can show her what we have been doing. Over the last 6 years, we have all learned to value every moment that we have with each other and not take any event or moment with anyone for granted.

(Insert Socially Accepted Title Here) By Sofia R

      A powerful force, a strong current, sweeping away anything in its path. Going against it
kills. Having to face the current although it might be hurtful, passing by stronger than anything ever known, because it is meant for you to shy away and become a coward. Continuing on, it all gets better. The current has passed and the main objective, the lake, is a peaceful realization that all those expectations, concerns, “crucial details” were all for what? Nothing. Nothing at all.
     A summer evening with what I thought were the people I most cherished, mostly because seeing them was out of the question, most of the time. What I didn’t know, the hidden truth, was that many events had occurred before that day in time, years ago. The evident resilience my parents had in them to overlook everything for their children, to go with the current and not against it for fear of harming the family they were trying to create. As the day goes on, and we have an amazing time eating food and laughing about whatever topic was brought up, it seems as if nothing could go wrong, there would be no mess ups, and at the end of the day we would just leave with a smile on our face, no cares in the world, because everything was all right in the world again. What I didn’t know was that nothing is like it seems, and I shouldn’t get carried away in my thoughts, believing something that will never happen even though I want it to occur. As all of the kids are playing together in a big corn container, running around and jumping from

one side to the other, ear piercing screams are all we hear. It is evident that something isn’t right, and we sit together in a circle, worried about what the future will bring. At that moment in time, we made a pact, a pact to forgive and forget, a pact so that nothing comes between us although our parents or whoever is fighting might think differently than we do. As we slowly crawl out and walk, emotions pierce through my heart, because hearing a mother’s scream is never a good sign. It is a sign of heartbreak, and a fear that eventually something bad will happen. I run, as fast as my legs will take me, away from the current that tells me to follow what my parents say, to get in the car because we are leaving. What I didn’t know was that as soon as I was pushed into the car, eventually on a plane back home, my life would be changed drastically, where I wouldn’t speak to certain people for two years, and for others even longer. I asked occasionally when we would go back, why we weren’t going back, and what was wrong with those people that they didn’t want to talk to me, and I couldn’t understand what I had done so wrong to make them move away, what seemed like the farthest away they had been in a very long time.
     Now, I am able to understand. Although it was tough to realize that my own grandparents had pushed my father under, treating him like he was nothing, while my uncle and aunt (his brother and sister) got everything they ever wished for. All the while, my dad was breaking his back with four hundred dollars in his pocket to somehow make a life in a whole new world. Over the years, his parents wouldn’t accept that he had made it on his own, got an apartment, an actual life he created for himself without relying on another person's money. The buildup of hatred people are able to obtain becomes unimaginable, mostly over the course of decades. It eats away at the person receiving left handed compliments, having to shy away from standing up for themselves for fear of hurting someone’s feelings. This is how my parents had to act. Just

swallowing their feelings and focusing on their end goal, which was to have a better life, in the end finally succeeding and surpassing their own objectives.
     Why do people try to change something that already has one course of action? More importantly, why do they try to close open wounds suddenly, when the problem is still there and nothing is resolved? These questions were important to me, since I have been asking myself what the answer to them are since that horrendous fight. Over the years, I have learned to accept the wrongdoings of my grandparents, and I still see traces of that hatred in the way they talk and act. Maybe the answers to all my questions are right in front of me, but at the same time so far away from being discovered. As that summer and winter went by, eventually my mom gave me a necklace that my grandma had sent over. It was a silver chain necklace with a dragonfly symbol on it. Of course, taking it felt wrong. Not only because I could almost feel the pity soaring through my veins as I held the chain, but because I felt that it was not a genuine gift, but rather one to make up for lost time. The time that has already passed will never return, but still today very few are able to recognize that. Although now, wearing the necklace, I don’t think of the story behind it. Rather, I concentrate on the meaning it specifically has for me, which is going against what everyone else tells you, to create what you believe is the best for yourself and the people you love and trust. Watching your success bloom leaves you amazed, never ceasing to let someone else tell you how to live your life, where society does not even hold a fraction of importance against your plans for the world and impacts whatever life you touch.

"Dear Dad..." by Kaylee T

Dear Dad,
      You would think that after something so traumatizing has happened, time would slow.
But it didn’t. It’s already been nine months. You and I both know how my memory goes. I could never remember where I put my glasses or what I last ate and it took me ages to memorize my own phone number. But the funny thing is that I can so vividly pinpoint the events from the night it happened. I can replay every detail of that day in my head like a movie.
     It was my birthday. One of the most exciting days of the year, until it wasn’t. I was at school when I got a text from you. I assumed it was going to be some ridiculous GIF wishing me happy birthday or you yelling at me for forgetting to lock the door. Anything would have been better than what I had actually read. You told me that you had driven yourself to the hospital to be monitored overnight. Of course I was worried, but knowing that this has been the case of your health for the past two years, I didn’t think much of it.
     Before dinner, we came to visit you. As always, it was hard seeing you attached to a whole bunch of tubes and machines. But being the optimist I am, I stuck to a smile, kissed you goodbye, and told you I would see you when you were released the next day.
     I called to say goodnight but our conversation was basically incomprehensible over the sound of the oxygen mask you had to wear. So instead, I sent you a text and got ready for bed. It was 11:43 when Mom’s phone rang.
     We got to the hospital and they told us you were unconscious with your heart beating only due to the help of a machine. Still, even in that state, I believed you were going to be ok. I believed that a week from then, we would be sitting at home, watching basketball or the latest episode of Jeopardy. I believed that miracles happen.
     But they don’t.
     We were talking to you, hoping our words would trigger something in your brain that would wake you up so we could just go home. Then the flat line of the machine went off. The continuous beep is meant to indicate the stop of your heart but it felt like the stop of mine too.
     I remember people telling me, “At least he lived to see you turn 17.” But that wasn’t enough for me. I imagined you by my side for so many more milestones. You were meant to be sitting in the stadium as I graduate, by my side as I read my first college acceptance letter, listening to me gush about the first day at my dream job, and walking me down the aisle as I get married.
     Even though I was cheated out of these moments with you, I realized that you have never really left my side. I hear your voice in my head every time I struggle to make a decision and see the face you would make whenever I do something stupid (but don’t hold it against me if I still end up getting a tattoo). Although not here physically, you continue to guide me in everything I do and might I add that you're doing a pretty great job because I have never felt more confident in myself or in my future than I do now.
     In these past nine months, my memory hasn’t gotten any better but I can proudly say that I have. It’s hard for me to put into words what I have felt or how I have grown exactly. All I

know is that I still forget my glasses, I still forget to lock the doors, and I can not for the life of me remember which light switch goes to which. But my memory comes and goes. The one thing that will never leave me is you. 

Love always,
your ​favorite d​aughter (:

Time to Celebrate with Some New Entries!

All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group  (December writers).  Everyone is required to comment on at least THREE different pieces of writing.  You must post the comment here on the blog (below the post is the "comments" link to click) AND cut and paste your published comments, complete with dates and time stamps, on to a Word document and turn it in to me by January 6, on Google Classroom.  You must do both to get credit for comments this month.

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"Almost Too Late " by Hannah E

     Slam! The door went as she forcefully closed she bedroom door. Steam spewed from her eyes as he paced back and forth. Her heart began to boil over with hatred as she attempted to fathom the fact that his father cheated on her mom. She grew even more furious knowing that her mom wouldn't have the strength to leave him for his infidelity. “How can she be so weak” she thought to herself. The more she pondered on the situation the more pain she felt for her mother. She despised her father for hurting her mom like this, and vowed to never speak to him again, severing a relationship that was once full of trust, admiration and joy. Over the next two years the young girl never told her father she loved him anymore, seldomly ever thanked him and especially never displayed the slightest bit of appreciation or kindness towards him. This severely deteriorated their relationship. Despite all the fathers actions he was unsuccessful in gaining his beloved daughter back, and rekindling their relationship. His daughter had set in her heart that she no longer wanted nor needed him in her life.     Now in his daughter’s mind, he was just a man she​ used to​ love and trust. She constantly expressed to him, “If you couldn’t love the women that gave birth to me, how can you​ truly ​love​ ​me” The father hated that he couldn't be trusted anymore so he decided to take the initiative to reestablish their estranged relationship by attempting to earn her trust and win her heart back. He thought it would be a bright idea to take a trip up to their family cabin: one of their favorite place to spend time together, in hopes to remind her of the relationship they once had. The girl hated the thought of spending time with her father, she despised him and wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. “I hate him” she exclaimed to her mother who was forcing her to go. “Why do I have to go with him...why are you even still with him...he cheated and you stayed, now...now our family is broken,” she said with burning hot tears racing down his face.” Her mother comforted and embraced her with her love. She looked deep into her eyes, tears rolling down her face, and said, “Please...please forgive him, you can’t hold onto this hate forever. No matter what he will always be your father and I your mother.” For a split moment the girl understood what her mother was saying, but her own stubbornness drove her back to the hate that festered in her heart. “Please go on this trip” her mother said crying. Despite how much she did not want to go, she couldn't stand to see her mother cry so she complied.
     On the day of the trip the father realized they had no road trip snacks so he decided to stop at a gas station. After they each found snacks for their trip, they walked to cash register to pay. As the father pulled out his $12.63 to pay, suddenly two six foot men, who happened to be wanted for kidnapping young girls, armed with loaded handguns, staggered into the gas station and began firing. The first few shots were to scare everyone into submission, but the father wasn't afraid, he wasn't going to let anyone harm his daughter. He very courageously shielded

her with his burly body and stood firm. One of the gunman turned to him and told him to step away, but the father didn't budge. The gunman said “You have five seconds to move” and began counting down. “Five”...the father did not budge, “four”... the girl’s heart began to race uncontrollably... “three”, the gunman was growing immensely impatient, “two” the father whispered one last I love you to his daughter, “one”...the young girl closed her eyes tight. Pow! The gun went off, the gunman’s eyes widened. He didn’t think the father would be so stubborn and not move, he only wanted to kidnap the girl not take his life. Out of fear, he and his partner fled from the scene, leaving the girl behind and drove away before the police could catch them. Meanwhile the young girl waited a moment until she could bring herself to open her eyes, and when she finally did she could not believe what stood before her. There he was, her dad, lying in a pool of dark red blood, with burning tears running down her face she dropped to her knees and slowly placed her hand on his heart, no rhythm. She then cupped his face in her hands, he was cold, ice cold. It was too late. Her heart shattered then sank, her mind whirled, she began to break down sobbing uncontrollably because all that seethed in her mind was that for 2 years, 4 months and 187 days she never told this man, her daddy: the one who raised her, the one who would capture the boogie man under her bed, the one who protected her from wild california drivers while crossing the street, the who mended back to health when she was severely sick, how much she truly loved and appreciated him and desired to spend more time with him. Gasp! She suddenly woke up, heart nearly pounding out of his chest. “Daddy?” she cried out. As her parents rushed into her room together. “What wrong,” they said. She paused for a second, “It was just a bad dream, it's not too late.”

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