IDEAS - Issue 3

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ELECTRONIC PUBLISHING CLASS Daniela Berenguer - 12th Grade Martina Llinás - 11th Grade Pedro Thomas - 11th Grade Nathan Leverson - 11th Grade Daniel Camacho - 11th Grade COLLABORATORS Brian O’Connor – Pre Ap. Social Studies Claudia Cerón - Francais Jesse Tangen - English Kevin Zang - Chinese Guzmán Julio - Digital Media 10-12 Martha Yanira Torres – Pre AP Lit. Rosalba Figueroa – Español 12 Sandra Janer – Español 9-10 Susana Castellanos - Español 11-12 Trevor Todd – English Lit. & Just.

Fabián Velasco – Política 10-11-12.

Chunling Yang – Chinese.

Lina María López – Learning Center Maria Spence – English.

Jesse Tangen – AP language & English 10-11-12.

EDITORS Guzmán Julio - Electronic Publishing Teacher Daniel Camacho - 11th Grade Daniela Berenguer - 12th Grade Martina Llinás - 11th Grade Pedro Thomas - 11th Grade Nathan Leverson - 11th Grade LAYOUT & COVER Guzmán Julio - EP Teacher PICTURES & PAINTINGS Stalin López - Photography - AP Art Patricia Angel - Craft - 3D Sculpture - Adv. Art Lina Sinisterra - Craft - 3D Sculpture - Adv. Art Zamira Páez - Graphic Design PRODUCTION Electronic Publishing Class PRINTED BY Cima Impresores E.U. Special thanks: Shaysann Kaun (HS Principal) & H.S. Teachers Colegio NUEVA GRANADA Cra 2 Este N° 70 - 20 Bogotá, Colombia PBX (571) 212 35 11 - www.cng.edu

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EDITORIAL

IDEAS is a magazine where CNG students are free to express themselves using the different skills they have learned in school so far, and to demonstrate their talent in writing, art, photography, and design. This magazine lets readers know we’re trying to make a difference in society with our skills, and getting to know CNG’s different thoughts and opinions about social issues in Colombia and the entire world.

This is the 3rd edition of our great IDEAS magazine, which represents three years of talent at school, since the first time it was published.

Readers have the option to read essays, reviews, chronicles, memoirs, short stories, poems and even graphic novels created by students themselves. Our goal in IDEAS is to voice students’ thoughts about cultural and social issues in the world through the language of literature and art. This goal follows the school’s mission, which is “Educating the mind, strengthening the body, and developing character for leadership and service in the world of today and tomorrow.”

The works that are being published in this magazine have been completed with a lot of effort all semester long. These works are done in different classes like Spanish, English, Sociales, Mandarin, and French.

The teachers of these subjects are in charge of turning in the work they think has been the best and that they believe should be published to the editors of the magazine.

Demonstrating that Colegio Nueva Granada is a place where challenges are always accepted, in the sense that students can overcome and grow academically through them, is also one of the main purposes of this magazine. This is why education is always worth it for everyone, it shows that nothing is impossible and that we can get anywhere we want. We hope you enjoy this third edition of IDEAS Magazine.

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From the HS Principal

As you delve into this third edition of our magazine, IDEAS, I encourage you to read with an open mind and an open heart, for in these pages our students have tried to share with you some of their thoughts, concerns, beliefs, and joys. It is an honor to work with students who are fully engaged in the process of becoming the leaders of today and tomorrow.

At CNG we work in a variety of ways to enable students to fully educate their mind while developing character. Through their words and art, you will see the ways in which they perceive their world. Expressions of happiness, sorrow, wonder, and concern are evident as our students look for ways to celebrate and improve what they see. There is no greater hope I have than that which lies in the hands of our students.

For I am sure they will use their skills and knowledge, along with their hearts, to make the world a better place and to lead it to greatness. Enjoy your peek at what is in store for us all!. Shaysann Kaun

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CONTENT - CONTENIDO CHRONICLES - CRÓNICAS 10 11 12 14 15 16

18 19 22 24 27 29 33 36 38 40 42 44 46

¿Qué Harías Si Fueras El Último De Tu Especie?. Mariana Márquez- Español El Último Hombre Camila Palacios - Español Anónimo Anónimo - Español Si Fuera El Último De Mi Especie… Jerónimo Sudarsky Español ¿Qué Harías Si Fueras El Último De Tu Especie? Juliana Pérez – Español ¿Qué Harías Si Fueras El Último De Tu Especie? Lina Merizalde - Español

ESSAYS - ENSAYOS

Una Carrera Andante Camilo Durán, Mateo Jimeno, Paula Segura D. - Español La Herida Sigue Fresca Carlos Albornoz – Sociales Sustainability David Osma – English Analytic Film Essay Alejandra Trias - English The World Puzzle: To Fit Or Not To Fit? Corey Di Stefano - Global Studies Wisdom Acquired From The Past David Osma - English 10 Pasos Para Adaptarse Al CNG Luna Yamashita - Snl Como Si Fueran Alienígenas Mariana Mosquera - Sociales Girl Power Estefania Szapiro - Pre-Ap English Clothing, It’s Meaning And It’s Use Jeronimo Sudarsky - Literacy And Composition My Prejudicial Me Anonymous - English Sustainability Essay Silvana Michelsen - Global Studies Sustainability In Our Everyday Lives Marian Aristizabal - Global Studies

POEMS - POEMAS 50 52 53 54 55 56

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Anger!!!! Danielle Emery - English War With Mankind Cristina Serrano - English Speak To Me Estefania Szapiro - English Acronyme Mariana Mosquera - Français To My Grandpa Sergio Mantilla - English Acronyme. Mariana Mosquera - Français

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

SHORT STORIES - HISTORIAS CORTAS

58 Confessions Of A Troubled Mind. Cristina Samper - English 65 La Definición Daniela Berenguer, Juliana Castro, Ana Lucia Echavarría, María Laura Echavarría Pre-Ap Literatura

66 The First And Last Night Jazz Cooley - English 70 Raw Cold Pedro Juan Mesa - English

REVIEWS - RESEÑAS

76 Hw Inglorious Bastards Questions Until P. 38 Mariana Mosquera - War Literature 77. ¿Qué Quieres Hacer Antes De Morir? Nanda Elenbaas - Spanish As A New Language

LETTERS - CARTAS

80 My Application Letter For Chinese Confucius Institute Scholarships Alejandra Angel - Chinese

82 北京交通大学2012孔子学院奖学金申请信. Alejandra Angel - Chinese 84 Letter Camila Silva 85 Letter Anonymous

MEMOIRS - MEMORIAS 88 97 105 116 126 137

Transitions Daniela Caro - Ap Language And Composition Desperation At The Summit Líneas. Daniel Solano - Ap Language And Composition Starting From Scratch Nanda Elenbaas - Ap Language And Composition One Day, And Then One Year Beatriz Preciado - Ap Language And Composition The Quest Juliana Castro - Ap Language And Composition So Close Yet So Distant Emiliana Pacheco - Ap Language And Composition

GRAPHIC NOVELS - HISTORIETAS

144 Fear Callie Cambell - Ap Language And Composition 150 Running Out Of Air Camila Preciado - Ap Language And Composition 157 The Apocalypse Of Madness. Daniel Moreno - Ap Language And Composition

159 GALLERIES - GALERIAS

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¿Qué harías si fueras el Último de tu especie?

Mariana Márquez- Español - Grado 11

Desperté. La oscuridad lentamente se apoderaba de mis ojos. La tenue luz de la luna mostraba la fragilidad del universo. El silencio me consumía y lo único que se podía oír en el infinito espacio era el latido de mi corazón. Cerré los ojos nuevamente esperando despertar de esa pesadilla en la que me sofocaba. Lo único que logré con esto fue recordar la imagen del fin de mi especie. En medio de la soledad una voz proveniente del interior de mi subconsciente me dijo: “Busca el río al fondo del camino. Cuando lo logres cruzar se acabará tu soledad.” Me puse de pie y con mis pies descalzos empecé a caminar sin conocer mi rumbo ni mi destino.

La neblina me arropaba con cada paso que daba pero a medida que avanzaba mi vista se aclaraba. No tenía noción del tiempo, los días y las noches eran iguales. No sentía hambre ni cansancio solo anhelaba encontrar el río que me quitaría mi soledad. Los días pasaban y el camino no acababa. Finalmente llegué a un abismo por el cual me asomé sin esperanzas de encontrar el río, me lancé al precipicio esperando la llegada de mi muerte.

La brisa rozaba mi cara, solo podía ver fracciones de luz pero jamás pensé que ese no sería el último día de mi vida.

Desperté. Abrí los ojos, me sentía mojado y a mi lado se podía ver un río. Miré hacia el cielo y solo se veía un brillo insaciable. Mil colores que me producían un sentimiento de tranquilidad. Hipnotizado por la belleza de este lugar que parecía tener un cielo de escarcha me quedé profundo sobre el suelo de espuma verde. Sentí como si estuviera flotando y al sentir esto abrí mis ojos. Tal fue mi sorpresa al ver que me estaba cargando un dragón en su espalda y me desmayé perdiendo la conciencia.

Andrea Szapiro - 11th Grade

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El Último Hombre Camila Palacios - Español - Grado 11

Si fuera la última de mi especie en el mundo haría tantas cosas. Nunca se me pasaría por la cabeza el hecho de no vivir más. Eso sería cobarde. Por fin podría entrar a todos esos lugares que un “No Pase” o un “Área Restringida” me negaban el ingreso. Cuando yo me preguntaba, ¿qué hay detrás de esas puertas? Mundos mágicos quizás, solía pensar. Esos son otros cuentos que después les contaré.

Volviendo a ser el último de mí especie, no tendría ningún pariente, familiar o amigo.

Todos habrían muerto. Me vería obligada a entablar amistades con los animales. Seríamos grandes amigos, entendería por fin su ámbito y diario vivir. Al fin entendería que los animales, toda especie, siempre ha querido ser amigo de los humanos. Es como nosotros nos acercamos a ellos que los ahuyentan. Entrenaría a los animales, serían mis aliados y compañeros en toda travesía en este mundo que yo ya ni reconocía. Las ciudades vacías serían algo diferentes, casi inhóspitas.

No habría duda que sería yo el ser más desarrollado, fuerte, inteligente que habitara la tierra en ese entonces. Mis conocimientos no tendrían límite. Podría construir aviones, pescar, diseñar, comunicarme con los animales. Todo lo sabría. Con este conocimiento viajaría por todo el mundo conociendo todos esos hermosos lugares, que antes solo eran un sueño más.

Por último escribiría, escribiría mucho. Todas mis aventuras y todo el conocimiento que los humanos lograron recopilar en esos últimos cinco mil años de desarrollo y ciencia.

Guardaría todo esto en un lugar seguro, por si alguna especie, como los humanos, llegara a habitar la tierra próximamente, estos tuvieran conocimiento de esa maravillosa especie que fueron los humanos.

Beatriz Preciado - 11th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Anónimo Anónimo - Español - Grado 11

“¿Perdón?” preguntaba ella, indignada.

“No te pongas así”, le susurraba, sonriendo con picardía, mientras hacía bailar a las culebras, arrogantes. “Es solo uno más, lo que hay son peces en el mar, pronto encontrarás uno bueno, uno más a tu… altura, eh?”

Furiosa, agarró una de las culebras que la rodeaban y le susurraban al oído las mismas palabras, como un eco, y dijo: “Mira, maldita mujerzuela, yo se que te sientes la abeja reina, la perla de la concha, la más bella del mercado con tus grandes alcachofas y tus labios voluptuosos, pero eso no te da el derecho de andar por ahí metiéndote con las frutas de otras” “Amiga, ¡no hace falta que te pongas así! El no era ningún… cómo llamarlo… pimentón; era más bien algo como una alverja, no, más dulce, ¿tal vez una habichuela? En todo caso, no amerita que te pongas así, después de todo, ya estaba en la olla esa relación, si sabes a lo que me refiero.” Respondió con una carcajada.

Había decidido, a sus espaldas, hacer uso de sus exuberancias – pelo de serpientes bailarinas, curvas de pera, alcachofas monumentales, labios realmente voluptuosos – para llamar la atención de su querido habichuelo; ella, con sus venidas a menos proporciones parejas, se había enterado, y en una explosión de ira, había desgranado a su esposo con furia, y ahora estaba enfrentando a su enemiga. Para su infortunio, ella era casi el doble de su tamaño, y apenas si podía hacerse oír entre las risas simultáneas de cien serpientes chinas.

“Eres una maldita cualquiera!” gritó, tratando de alcanzarla, pero era demasiado rápida.

Las culebras la rodeaban y enredaban, y nada podía hacer ella para lograr alcanzarla. Fue entonces cuando vio los pequeños deditos que ella llamaba piernas – aunque la gravedad era un ilusión en ese espacio donde existían, era posible confundirla; aunque era la más grande, no era la más inteligente.

“Bah, ya ni sé para que sigo discutiendo contigo”, dijo, aparentando decepción. “Igual mi esposo ya tuvo suficiente; esas… piernitas tuyas lo terminaron aburriendo, como era obvio.”

Ella, que había estado envuelta en su propia arrogancia, pareció congelarse; las culebras, antes coordinadas y fluidas, de pronto se quedaron quietas algunas chuecas y angularmente horribles. “¡¿Perdón!?” respondió, sorprendida.

“Pues sí; no podías esperar que un hombre como mi habichuelo se satisfaciera con esos mojones que llamas piernas; tienes que entender que a él le gustan largas y esbeltas, como las mías” dijo, exhibiendo sus berenjenas moradas y listas.

“Que dices, atrevida!?” respondió, furiosa, mientras mandaba a sus cientos de culebras 12

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a mirar sus piernuchas que apenas si se podían mover bajo su gran cuerpo de pera.

Horrorizada, miro a su enemiga con ira, solo para verla alejándose alegre, moviendo sus delgadas berenjenas con ritmo.

“Recuerda, amiga, que el tamaño no lo es todo – no siempre se trata de tener lo más grande – la proporción también importa; la próxima vez puedes intentar con unas piernas más largas, o tal vez lisas; pero no esperes que todos los hombres se derritan a tus pies… digo, dedos.”, y se fue, riéndose.

Antonio Montoya - 11th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Si fuera el último de mi especie…

Jerónimo Sudarsky - Español 11

Contradiciendo mis gustos por videojuegos, novelas y películas post-apocalípticas, y además siendo el cínico que soy y estando en ese mismo ánimo, un apocalipsis no me sentaría bien.

Trataría de hacer lo posible, buscaría los mejores laboratorios especializados en el área de clonación y reproducción artificial. Viéndolo desde una perspectiva más realista y humana y considerando la terrible presión del hecho, probablemente me deprimiría y contemplaría el suicidio y perdería la esperanza día a día. Solo encontraría diversión en la satisfacción de todos mis caprichos materiales pero esto solo me mantendría feliz por un tiempo vacío y limitado. Mi interés intelectual que ahora me consume por los sueños de lo que podría hacer en el futuro con los mismos, se desvanecería ya que no valdría la pena. Con cada día que pasa y con cada luz de esperanza que se apaga me volvería loco, irracional y desesperado.

Una de mis cualidades siempre ha sido la habilidad de actuar y liderar bajo presión, pero por el otro lado otra cualidad (o defecto) que se me ha otorgado es la identificación de metas con una perspectiva poco optimista y terriblemente objetiva.

Callie Campbell - 9th Grade

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¿Qué harías si fueras el último de tu especie?

Juliana Pérez - Español 11

Si yo fuera la última persona viva en la tierra intentaría sobrevivir hasta el día de mi muerte. Buscaría animales de otras razas, como perros y gatos y trataría de interactuar con ellos y adoptarlos como mascotas, para así no deprimirme por la soledad de ser la última persona viva en el mundo. Intentaría experimentar hacer cosas extraordinarias ya que nadie estaría presente para decirme qué hacer. No tendría que trabajar ya que todo lo tendría al alcance de la mano y gratis, entonces podría tener todo lo que quisiera. Me gustaría viajar a otros lugares como Washington DC donde está el pentágono y averiguaría todo los secretos que el mundo guarda. Con esta información trataría buscar una forma de reproducirme, así sea clonándome o encontrando alguna manera de tener hijos para que la especie humana no se extinguiera.

Si no logro tener hijos solo seguiría viviendo mi vida y disfrutando de todos los placeres que esta me ofrece, sola y en compañía de mis mascotas. Además me gustaría conocer más del mundo y aprender cosas nuevas por mi propia cuenta, ya que tendría demasiado tiempo libre para hacer lo que quisiera.

Cristina Serrano - 11th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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¿Qué harías si fueras el último de tu especie?

Lina Merizalde - Español 11

Si fuera el último ser humano, seguramente me sentiría muy sola. Por esta razón cuidaría mucho a mi gato, sería mi única conexión con mi vida previa de la muerte, de toda la raza humana. Buscaría la manera de volverme un ave, quizás con un hechizo del libro de magia que mi mamá guarda bajo en la biblioteca. Si lograra que el hechizo funcionara, tendría una ventaja sobre todos los otros animales, intelecto de humano y cuerpo de ave. Por tener esta delantera, emprendería una búsqueda de una manera de reproducir animales inteligentes, como yo. Crearía una comunidad que no afectara la naturaleza de manera negativa. En vez, dependeríamos de ella pero sin abusar, seríamos una comunidad inteligente pero a la vez, feliz.

Camila Amaya - 12th Grade

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Una Carrera Andante Camilo Durán, Mateo Jimeno, Paula Segura D. - Español - Grado 11

“…muchas personas no se atreven a decidir conforme a ese llamado interior a que el ser humano escucha en el silencio del alma” Miro el rompecabezas y las fichas que aparentemente no cuadran en ningún lugar me comienzan a fastidiar. Me concentro en las que encajan a la perfección, estas son las que me gustan; a diferencia de las que no encajan en mi rompecabezas, las que dejo a un lado, las que son lentas de colocar e incapaces de encajar. Me frustro, tengo que ser el primero en terminar, esto es lo que me han enseñado. Hacer todo yo, ser eficiente y rápido.

Es mi primer día de clases, todos miramos las letras que forman una…una palabra, se supone que debo poder leerla con una pronunciación perfecta, pero no puedo. Camilo la lee a la perfección, esto hace que yo quiera leer una palabra de no cinco letras sino de siete. Desde que somos niños nos enseñan a competir, a sobrepasar expectativas tanto nuestras como las de los demás.

que me ve extenuado. ¿Cómo puedo parar mi vida si estoy logrando todo lo que me propuse al ser joven? Me dice que lo que hago es ridículo. ¿Ridículo? Esto es lo que me han enseñado, ella no entiende la vida de la sociedad moderna. Somos diferentes: ella ayuda y apoya mientras que yo compito, gano, y opaco.

Vuelvo a mirar el rompecabezas, las piezas que no entran están amontonadas al lado, tienen unos colores tan vivaces, tan bellos.

Embellecerían mi rompecabezas, sería el mejor. Las veo y me doy cuenta de que una encaja, en realidad todas encajan.

Necesito un poco de voluntad para ponerlas y poco a poco voy a terminando el mejor rompecabezas de todos.

Años después no tengo que leer una palabra. Tengo que entrar a las sociedades de honor del colegio, tener excelentes calificaciones, un boletín de conducta ejemplar, ser el mejor en golf y tocando la guitarra. Tengo que llegar a Harvard. No puede ser otra universidad, tiene que ser la mejor. Es lo menos que espero, lo que todos esperan. Tengo que ser el mejor, yo solo tengo que llegar a la cima, una cima que cada vez se ve más distante.

Visitando a mí abuela viene la misma cátedra: que le baje al ritmo de mi vida, 18

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Camila Amaya - 12th Grade

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La herida sigue fresca Carlos Albornoz - Sociales - Grado 11

La República de Colombia yace como una nación que se ha visto azotada por los fenómenos del terror y la violencia, no es algo nuevo, es algo que se ha visto retratado en el país desde hace más de 200 años. La lucha bipartidista fue uno de los hechos violentos más impactantes durante esta época, aunque no hay estadísticas formales se conoce popularmente que entre 200,000 y 300,000 personas perdieron la vida durante estos años. Es absolutamente aterrador visualizar la historia de un país que abunda en riquezas pero carece de ideales, en pocos países del mundo puede uno ver una historia tan plagada de hechos negativos, un país en donde la diferencia en ideas fue y no deja de ser hoy en día un problema de convivencia ampliamente dubitativo. La política colombiana ha traído numerosas soluciones a conflictos armados pero también muchas veces los ha creado, haciéndolo ver cómo el poder insensato y desprestigiado. El poder ejecutivo de igual forma ha disfrutado ser parte importante de una Colombia tensa y desesperada.

El comienzo de la etapa de la violencia no tiene una fecha definida, muchos diferencian de lo que puede ser considerado como la violencia. Hay sectores que comentan que comenzó en el momento que Alfonso López Pumarejo se retira de la presidencia y el designado Lleras Camargo convoca a elecciones para junio de 1946, otros consideran que se da inicio a la verdadera violencia y crisis cuando el general Gustavo Rojas Pinilla llega al poder, pero la opinión más utilizada es que el conflicto bipartidista comenzó el día en el cual es asesinado el candidato presidencial por el partido liberal Jorge Eliecer Gaitán. Los protagonistas de esta

lucha eran nada más ni nada menos que los dos partidos tradicionales en Colombia, estaba el Partido Conservador colombiano y el Partido Liberal colombiano. Mariano Ospina Pérez presidente conservador de la República de Colombia de los años 1946 a 1950 presenció durante su presidencia lo que fue el detonante de un pasaje oscuro impreso en la historia de lo que llamamos nuestra patria. El día 9 abril del año 1948 ocurrió el llamado Bogotazo, Jorge Eliecer Gaitán caudillo liberal y candidato a la presidencia se encontraba en su oficina en la ciudad de Bogotá cuando a la una de la tarde decidió salir a almorzar, cuando bajaba del ascensor y caminaba por un callejón Juan Roa Sierra disparó un arma de fuego sobre el político. El asesinato de Gaitán conmocionó a todos sin faltar uno de los sectores liberales que habitaban en el país especializándose en la ciudad de Bogotá, estos mismos salieron a las calles de Bogotá a perpetuar las más amplias alteraciones del orden público que jamás han sido vistas. Los saqueos en Bogotá eran incontables, no había control alguno y la muerte de Gaitán había conducido a actos desquiciados de vandalismo. El fuego y la sangre corrían por la carrera séptima los no involucrados se escondían y rezaban por su seguridad, los liberales exigían la renuncia inmediata del presidente Mariano Ospina y en demostración inundaron con fuego Iglesias, parques, locales medios de transporte entre otros. La ciudad estaba en caos completo las mismas fuerzas de control se comenzaron a unir y poco a poco menos eran las expectativas de llegar a un control. El saldo humano de las protestas pasaba por el rango de 500 a 3000 reportados extraoficialmente. El desorden causado por el asesinato de

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una sola persona alberga una amplia pregunta en términos de colores, los conservadores ese día fueron acusados y cada conservador en la calle era atacado, el sentimiento de aquellos que salieron a la calle era a defender su propio color.

Ese día la ciudadanía introdujo el término violencia a la sociedad, no fue una guerra ni tampoco una confrontación, fue la expresión de pensamientos colmados de rabia y tristeza. Uno de los días más tristes de nuestra patria querida.

Poco después de ese momento llegarían las elecciones del año 1950, alcanzaría la presidencia un personaje poco desconocido Laureano Eleuterio Gómez Castro popular por su extremismo al defender el Partido Conservador y los intereses católicos. Al llegar a la presidencia Gómez recibe un país lleno de dudas, convoca una Asamblea Nacional constituyente para poner sus pensamientos sobre el estado en papel. Entre sus pensamientos se encontraba la amplia idea de delimitar el poder legislativo y el poder judicial para qué un día de desconcierto el poder ejecutivo presidido por el mismo pudiese tomar decisiones apresuradamente y evitar tales conflictos populares. Era llamada la dictadura civil. En el año 1951 y cumpliendo un año de presidente, Gómez sufre de un síncope cardíaco y es obligado a retirarse de la presidencia dejando a cargo a Roberto Urdaneta quien por los próximos tres años debía terminar este ciclo. Pero no mucho tardó para que disgustara la idea a otros sectores, el general Gustavo Rojas Pinilla se toma el poder el 13 junio 1953 y en ese momento envía a Laureano al exilio en Nueva York. La decisión de Rojas causo un obvio enfurecimiento de Gómez quien desde todas las ciudades en las cuales cumple su 20

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exilio envía cartas a sus pares conservadores ordenándoles y convenciéndolos a frenar al general, este hecho es considerado cómo gobernar a control remoto ya que también utilizaba este medio para dirigir en el periodo de Urdaneta y poco le sirve a Gómez para recuperar su presidencia. Es alarmante que un presidente sufra de una enfermedad y le que complejo separarse de su presidencia, cuando un gobernante no tiene capacidades para ejecutar el cargo debe apuntar a otro en el cargo y desligarse completamente de este, por otro lado un golpe de Estado es algo que desestabiliza el poder político de una nación y va completamente en contra de las leyes escritas para el buen regir. Un presidente debe ser aquel que haya sido el elegido por el pueblo o por lo menos es lo que se estipula ante una democracia, no el que al considerar un mal momento nacional se auto designe como comandante en jefe.

Llegaba el autoproclamado gobierno de Rojas Pinilla. Fue un cambio institucional estrechamente magno, el gobierno militar decidió aplicar indultos y amnistías a los presos políticos y guerrilleros. A diferencia de lo que se cree en algunos sectores políticos y económicos del país, el cuartelazo de Rojas no fue algo negativo para el país, se toman decisiones que para muchos parecían inconcebibles como lo era la reconciliación entre los partidos políticos. Aunque la posesión del general no fue completamente legal la Asamblea Nacional constituyente había expresado que desde el 13 junio la presidencia había quedado vacante y por propios términos se legalizaba a Rojas como jefe del Estado mayor. Se sabía que Rojas fomentaba giras por todo el territorio nacional para llegar a una posible y próxima reelección

de su estado militar. Combatió la guerra bipartidista dando equilibrio entre los partidos, los conservadores recibieron mucho empleo público con excepción de algunas gobernaciones y ministerios que pertenecían a militares en su control. Esta fue la causa del efecto de la disminución en las muertes de la amplia cifra de 22,000 personas en el 53 a 1900 en el 55, esto no fue lo único conocido como resultado positivo de este gobierno, atacó la corrupción en el poder judicial poniendo y dando los mismos puestos a conservadores y liberales.

Esto es parte de lo expresado por el autor Marco Palacios. Un Estado en un momento tan negativo como lo era Colombia por la época del Bogotazo necesitaba una mano fuerte para dirigir, los poderes eran considerados anteriormente como débiles y con poco poder, esto por lo no eficientes intentos de control por parte del Estado mayor, Rojas arremetió básicamente contra todo lo que era inservible.

En conclusión podemos ver cómo la pregunta “¿Fue realmente violento el conflicto bipartidista?” Se responde bajo los hechos demostrados. Un país que no se encontraba en un conflicto con otra nación ni por defender sus territorios sino por el simple fenómeno de la diferencia en opiniones, un conflicto que no es aceptable al dejar como saldo un tan alto número de víctimas humanas. No es posible decir que hoy Colombia vive en paz y no lo va a ser posible por décadas, la nación ha sido educada por balas y fusiles. Directamente lleva a los inconformes a tomar las armas y expresar su disgusto de una forma cruel y violenta con el aterrador propósito de presionar. En el presente vivimos un sueño de paz, un sueño que ya ha fracasado

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varias veces, un sueño que las Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias De Colombia no han permitido. Éste no parece el día del cambio, hoy vemos bandas criminales que están emergiendo y cada día son mayores en poder y número de combatientes. Por lo tanto nos vemos en la tristeza de expresarnos siempre en una manera negativa pero como colombianos tratar siempre de sacar la imagen de nuestra bella y rica Colombia que mundialmente se ha visto desprestigiada por acciones de individuos que no buscan el bien, en poco tiempo lograron destruir el perfil internacional del mejor país de todo el mundo. Viva Colombia.

Bibliografía: - Palacios, Marco. Entre la legitmidad y la violencia. Santafe de Bogota: 1995. 190-225.

- “9 de abril: El Bogotazo.” Colombia Aprende n.d., n. pag. Print. <http://www. colombiaaprende.edu.co/html/home/1592/ article-122701.html>.

- “Laureano Gomez.” Biografías y vidas n.d., n. pag. Print. <http://www.biografiasyvidas. com/biografia/g/gomez_laureano.htm>.

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Sustainability David Osma - English - 10th Grade

The evolution and radical advancement of the human species has affected sustainability. Sustainability means meeting our own needs without limiting the ability of future generations. Since the human became the “ruler” of the world, yearby-year it’s population increased, as well as their agricultural advancement. Humans started to use many resources, usually most than what was needed. This meant that humans started becoming unsustainable. In nature, species that are unsustainable will obviously go extinct, because the future generations lack of resources.

Many people wonder why humans started becoming unsustainable. The reason is simply because each and every single human desires a better life quality. This means they want something called basic needs, which consists on shelter, water, energy, food, etc. Quality of life indicators, such as the GDP (Gross Domestic Product) and the GPI (Genuine Progress Indicator) are used to measure the life quality in different aspects. People start wanting and spending more than what they really need, and if we take the global effect, it’s certainly not a sustainable one. This means people are using up the resources and limiting the ability for future generations. There are renewable resources and non-renewable resources. Non-renewable resources are the ones that can’t be replaced, and if they’re used up, then future generations won’t have access to them.

Nowadays, people are consuming natural resources uncontrollably in order to satisfy their wants or needs. The aggressive and “unconscious” decisions humans are making are devastating the environment.

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This is how humans are worsening the earth’s condition each time. It all starts with the burning of fossil fuels (non-renewable resources), humans burn fossil fuels in order to meet their needs and wants. As a result, carbon dioxide is released and stores in atmosphere as greenhouse gases, which affects global warming. Global warming is a transnational issue that melts glaciers, contributes to desertification (expanding of deserts) and acidification (CO2 in the ocean).

All of these firmly negative effects also impact millions of humans. Humans like these lose their arable land, food sources, and even culture. They are forced to migrate and certainly become refugees.

Examples of people being affected by global warming are indigenous people. The most ironic part is that they unquestionably live a sustainable life and are being affected by the lifestyles of other people. People like the Caribs only use what meets their needs. In return, they get the effect of acidification, which spoils their food supply. Another group would be the Kiribati people. They are being affected by the rising waters, which are flooding their islands.

Sustainability relies on three main pillars: social, economic and environmental.

In order to have a sustainable life, the three of them need to work out. After the explanation about modern-day issues, it is clear that the areas we are most affecting are social and environmental. We are disappearing cultures and knowledge, which go under society, and the worsening of our ecosystem falls under environment. Many people wonder why sustainability should be applied into the three pillars. The answer in one word would be survival. If sustainability weren’t applied,

sooner or later, our species (and the rest of the organisms) would encounter problems in survival. Humans will surely live much more decades, however, if the present generations use all the resources, the next generations will probably wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t survive.

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humans can use their great technological advancement in order to apply it to the 3 pillars of sustainability. This way, most humans can acquire a better life quality without affecting future generations.

If sustainability is actually necessary, then how will we apply it to the three pillars? The answer lies in worldwide cooperation. People need to have a worldview with multiple perspectives in which they understand the situation of others and recognize that this global issue affects everyone. By now, it is clear that in order to give the next generations a good life quality, it is necessary to have the three pillars on a stable condition. In order to achieve this, humans should find personal and structural solutions. Personal solutions are those in which an individual acts to alleviate a problem. Examples would be things such as recycling and wasting less water. Structural solutions are those in which you understand how systems function and then take an action. Solutions like these can make a great impact. If everyone had personal solutions, the local change would become a worldwide change. If governments want people to do something they believe is right, they subsidize things, meaning they would pay citizens or businesses. This kind of support, encouraging people to do something, would teach people what they should do in order to have a sustainable life.

In conclusion, it is possible for humans to live a sustainable life. Even though the profound advancement of the human specie has greatly affected our lifestyle and sustainability, hope is certainly not over. By cooperating and finding effective solutions,

Mina Drezner - 12th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Analytic Film Essay Alejandra Trias - English - 11th Grade

Lady Macbeth is one of the most controversial characters in Macbeth by William Shakespeare. It’s difficult to decide whether she is a villain, or if she is just as scared as her husband. Macbeth is a story that revolves around greed, power and remorse. Even though Macbeth takes the title of the play, he is not the main character; Lady Macbeth is the one who is behind his violent actions, she is the one that craves for more power. The objective of this essay is to compare two different versions of the movie Macbeth: Macbeth (2010) by Rupert Goold and The Tragedy of Macbeth (1976) by Roman Polanski. Each film has a different perspective of Lady Macbeth as a character and how she manages her relationship with her husband.

I will start with Macbeth (2010). A character’s first appearance is very important.

It gives the audience a first impression, and allows them to consider whether they like the character or not. Here (19:06) is the first time we see lady Macbeth clearly: she is coming down the elevator as she reads a letter from her husband. As she comes out, this is what we see. From the look on her face we can tell she is a fierce and determined woman. The director shows her from ¾ front and a very slight low angle. The fact that it is a close-up makes the scene even more shocking. You can tell that half of her face is in the light and the other half lies in the dark. This is the director’s way of telling us that Lady Macbeth has a dark side.

In this shot (21:11), Lady Macbeth looks very powerful. The director makes her appear from a slight low angle, ¾ front.

The position of the camera, and the way she levels her head, show authority and willpower. Once again, darkness divides 24

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her. But this time, the contrast is stronger.

Sunlight strikes on her left side, but her right side receives no light. This may symbolize that after reading the letter, she is even more undecided about making evil decisions.

Now look at the background. The portion of her body that is lighter is placed in a dark setting and the portion of her body that is dark is placed in a light setting. This somehow symbolizes outer influence. If the light part of her body means she is thinking on being good, the dark background are the reasons why she should be bad.

In this shot (30:48), we see Macbeth talking with his wife. It is a close up shown at eye level. The director shows Lady Macbeth from profile and Macbeth from ¾ front. Once again the director uses lighting to show the evil in Lady Macbeth. We see her completely submerged in darkness while her husband stays in the light. In this scene she reminds me of a serpent. She is trapping Macbeth with her crazy ideas, trying to make him go into the dark side too. She is looking directly into his eyes, but he looks away from hers. She looks completely manipulative and compulsive.

I find this scene (44:38) shocking and disturbing but at the same time genius.

The camera focuses on Lady Macbeth as she looks at the blood in her hands. Blood symbolizes death, evil and guilt. Lady Macbeth calmly looks at her hands, as if accepting the guilt that they would bring her.

She also has blood over the left side of her chest, over her heart. This could symbolize that the violence and remorse will never leave her heart. In the background we can see Macbeth. He looks shocked, as if he couldn’t believe how calm she is towards the situation. Once again, the director uses

a lighting technique: Lady Macbeth is in darkness while the light lies on Macbeth.

Now, let’s look at the Lady Macbeth from The Tragedy of Macbeth (1971). This shot portrays Lady Macbeth’s first apparition.

She appeared backwards before, but this is the first time her face appears from the front.

The fact that her very first appearance is from the back makes her seem mysterious. The light on the top gives her a certain glow of innocence. She looks a little nervous, but inoffensive over all. The way she looks over her shoulder makes her look a little sneaky, as if she were scared of people knowing what the letter held.

Here we can see Lady Macbeth sleepwalking. She feels guilty after encouraging Macbeth to kill. The scene does show guilt, but it also portrays misery and desperation. The director uses a close-up and a slight low angle for this scene. The way she looks upwards and how light shines in her head, could demonstrate power. But the look on her face and the way her fists are clenched together, show regret. To the left of Lady Macbeth, the background is dark, and to her right there is a small portion of light.

This could symbolize that by chasing power she has lost most of her good side.

This scene shows Lady Macbeth’s most powerful moment. She is at the top of the castle watching Duncan’s arrival, thinking about his death. Polanski uses a close up, low angle and front rear. The evident low angle makes her look big and dominant. The background is a grey, cloudy sky and the wind pulls her hair back. Both of these factors contribute to her powerful look. Looking closely, you

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can tell that one side of her face is lighter than the other. This symbolizes her inner battle between good and bad. Even in her darkest scene, she still does not look as evil as Lady Macbeth (2010).

Here we see the moment where Macbeth comes back and his wife already knows the news. She seems genuinely happy for him, she even looks a bit proud. Now take a look at this shot form Macbeth 2010. It also takes place when Macbeth comes back and they are talking about Duncan. We can obviously tell the difference between the relationships with their husband. While the first Lady Macbeth seems happy and dreamy, the second one looks manipulative and unsatisfied. Polanski portrays his characters as a happier couple. Even though Lady Macbeth is manipulating her husband, there is still some romance left between them.

This shots show us both versions of Lady Macbeth when they discover Macbeth brings back the daggers he used to kill Duncan. Both are close ups, which make the scene a little more intense. Polanski’s version looks completely terrified. She looks at the daggers with Fright and confusion. It makes her look a little weak. Goold’s version looks mad and determined to find a solution. She looks at her husband with disgust for not being able to do what she asked.

In conclusion, Roman Polanski and Rupert Goold had very different ideas for portraying Lady Macbeth. Polanski probably thought she was not evil, but was willing to

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do anything for her husband. Goold thought she was an evil and manipulative woman.

From the very first scene of Lady Macbeth in each movie, it is easy to tell the difference.

Gooldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s version looks fierce and malicious.

But Polanskiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s version looks like a normal wife who wants the best for her husband.

After a couple of scenes we find that she is evil too, but it is not evident in her character.

They also used different filming techniques on Lady Macbeth. For example, Goold used lighting to part Lady Macbeth into a light side and a dark side. On the other hand, Polanski used this technique only once.

Drawing Class

Diana Osorio - 11th Grade

Camilo Andres Villa - 11th Grade

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The World Puzzle: To Fit or Not To Fit?

Corey Di Stefano - Global Studies - 10th Grade

Culture is very important to our world. Some people may not see it this way, but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s true. Culture makes each country truly unique. Culture gives us a sense of the world, knowledge, laws, values, and traditions. The Ladakhis are experiencing loss of their culture. The Ladakhi culture is very different from others because they still use the traditional ways. They have a deep relationship with the earth, but they need to preserve their culture before it disappears into the modernization of the world.

Ladakhi culture is something special.

They are Tibetan - Buddhists who are very peaceful people. They use the land and surroundings for all of their needs. The plants and animals are used for medicine, materials to build shelter, food, blankets, and clothes.

Nearby streams allow them to build canals to give them water. This is why their way of life is sustainable; they never have to rely on outside forces for the resources that they need. They all rely on each other as well. They share their work load or job, and take turns doing so.

Taking long breaks is also a part of their job.

This is so they can bond and communicate with each other. Since most all the people are farmers (ninety percent own land), everything depends on one another. The Ladakhis have adapted to this area. This means all of their skills are finely tuned to the environment.

Globalization, though, is threatening their culture. Construction of highways near their area has caused the bringing of material and consumer goods to their environment.

This attracts more consumers which already goes against what the Ladakhis believe in; using the resources available to them. It also attracts the young people - teenage boys specifically. Boys see these new goods like

video games and toy guns, and automatically want to live in that lifestyle. Teenage boys are the weak link in the chain of culture. As they say, a group is only as strong as their weakest person. In the nearby city of Leh, pollution from cars and construction trucks has also affected them from these new roads. In the traditional village, they knew of no pollution.

Now, in the thin air, they are being choked by fumes of diesel fuel. Some streams in Leh are undrinkable because of water pollution.

Diseases are now present in the water that didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even exist in Ladakh. In areas with no water, they have to rely on the government for deliveries. Competing for scarce resources creates friction between the people that were once peaceful. Garbage piles up everywhere.

In a place that was once clean, people are appalled by the dirt and grime. The land is being threatened by the modern way of agriculture; pesticides that are illegal in other countries are being sold to others. This is a danger to the land as well as the people.

Because of transportation to this area through new roads, there have been more tourists. Although most of the time tourists have negative effects on a traditional area, in Ladakh, the tourists may have a positive effect. Tourists come to see the Ladakhi culture and instead of being driven around on a bus, they really connect with the Ladakhi people and live for a moment like they do. The Ladakhi people really have a way with making people understand their way of life and leave people totally aware of the dangers they are going through. Instead of closing themselves off from other cultures and becoming isolated, the Ladakhis decided to open up their lives to other people. Some people might think how can the Ladakhis live without modern technology to help IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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them farm? The Ladakhi people have been doing that very thing for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years without other technology to help them. They live independently and that is sustainability.

farms independently before) because they left that lifestyle. The German missionary school, thought of as the best school in Ladakh, is teaching children a new religion altogether, losing their own.

Modernization still has a way of affecting the Ladakhis, however. Now, modernization has perceived the Ladakhis as poor. More and more of the Ladakhis are splitting up and abandoning their culture, all in pursuit of paid jobs. Since men are now in search of jobs, they leave women to carry on the culture and take care of the farm.

Although the women try to keep the culture going, they can’t stop the social aspects from branding themselves in peoples’ minds to change. The images from the West that show the luxury and glamor people live in persuade people to keep up with modernization. If they can’t, they are left to become poor. Traditionally, education included children learning values, skills, and their culture through experience. Now, children are trained to strive for urban jobs; they are trained to fit in the ‘world puzzle’. Yet, what people don’t realize is they cannot fit. They have to learn a new language, English, but never about their culture. In order to get into a university, which is supposed to be everyone’s dream, you have to pass a test. Five percent pass this test while the rest struggle. This leaves the other ninety - five percent in poverty because they cannot succeed in an urban job. Once people are educated, they never stay in Ladakh. Along with many other problems, the peoples’ leaving makes the Ladakhis’ policy of helping others and being kind die out. It also makes people lose their ability around the farm; they can no longer do things for themselves (like they did on

Everyone from a different culture is a different puzzle piece. Trying to morph a group of people or culture to fit into the world puzzle will just lead to creating confusion and a loss of identity. Why do we need to do that? Why would we want that to happen? Not one culture is better than the next. There might have been thousands of cultures before globalization and many of them are lost because of it. To help preserve their culture and way of life, we can all take part. Introducing technology to assist with better farming techniques can be done without sacrificing a community’s culture.

For example, the Ladakhi people can use solar greenhouses without being drawn to modern agriculture. Solar greenhouses use the sun, a natural resource, to help them farm all year. This helps them carry on their culture without being affected by outside forces. They could also be taught their own culture in schools. There are certain textbooks from organizations that do this, but each child has the right to know about where they came from as well as other people. The Ladakhi people are already doing something for themselves to help preserve their culture; tourism. They help tourists realize their way of life and that it shouldn’t be forced to change. If the Ladakhi people were to fight and resist globalization, they would fail and they know that. Instead, they are opening up and accepting what has come of this world.

However, they will not back down and change their culture; they are going to carry on and hopefully will do so for many years.

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Wisdom Acquired from the Past David Osma - English - 10th Grade

On the western edge of the Tibetan Plateau lies a culture known as the Ladakhs.

This culture, which has been around for centuries, is not only sustainable, but also a role model for other cultures. Globalization and modernization are currently threatening the Ladakhi culture and it’s sustainability.

The Ladakhi culture has unique ideas/ attitudes, behaviors, relationships, and artifacts that can improve modernday societies. It’s religious ideologies lie in Tibetan Buddhism. They believe that when someone dies, someone else is born. Their attitude of work is that work and leisure are one; therefore, they rest constantly.

The relation with each other and with nature is very different in the Ladakhi culture. It relies mainly in interdependence, where everything depends on each other.

The Ladakhis are very united. Relationships between them are really strong, they always are willing to cooperate and help each other, no matter if they live far apart.

The are conscious that helping others is in their own interest and that they help each other for free (no money is used, only food is served). In order to make decisions, representatives of various households meet to discuss and decide things.

Their behavior with nature is very friendly. They take care of resources because they know how valuable they are to them and to future generations. The Ladakhis don’t waste anything because they consider that everything comes from earth and goes back to earth. Even though this consideration is one of their ideas, it expresses their relations with nature. In Ladakh, people don’t even contaminate water because it is a sin.

In Ladakh, artifacts such as the grinding mill are extremely useful and necessary. This grinding mill, which is powered by water, is used to grind mainly barley and wheat. Even though not every person owns one, and the relation between people is really good, this artifact is used for communal necessities between many people. Housing in Ladakh depends mostly on stones. Houses are made of stone and they have their own garden (for private use).

This culture is certainly very sustainable because it provides resources for the next generations. The attitudes and relationships they have towards nature is very tolerant, where they know how to manage the resources and make the most out of them. Their relations with other people also contribute to sustainability.

Their way of sharing and governing themselves creates a friendly environment, which helps the environment as well. Even though their artifacts might not seem so important, they actually are. Things such as the grinding mill are powered by water, this way no harm is done to nature. From the way the Ladakhis live, we can affirm that their culture is sustainable.

Modernization and Globalization has currently affected the political, economical, social, cultural, and environmental aspects of the Ladakhi culture. Some examples of the globalization would be: the “modern” ideas, U.S. and European tourists, and the Indian government. “Modern” ideas have greatly shaped the Ladakhis. Ideas such as the ones of: working in order to gain money, nuclear families live by themselves, men are supposed to be aggressive, women need to IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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be beautiful and education is necessary for survival have caused a great impact on this culture. Due to the media, communication, and propaganda, these “modern” ideas have reached India and create images and stereotypes of what is good and bad in life. Even though young men are the ones most affected by these ideas, they are also affecting the others as well. With these ideas, people strive to be as the ideas “tell” them to. They try to be as the western culture. Not only do they admire the west, but they also begin to think they are poor and that their culture is worthless.

The second example of globalization, the U.S. and European tourists are also causing a great change in Ladakh.

Since the Ladakh culture is now linked to the rest of India with roads, tourists are now able to discover this great culture. Even though they are not aware that they themselves are dissolving this culture, they keep on affecting it. Tourists cause a “splendid” image for the Ladakhis because they come from the west.

The Ladakhis are able to observe that tourists spend great amount of money, and reaffirm that “west is best” and that they’re culture is useless. Tourists also bring new ideas to this culture. These ideas blend into the Ladakhis and they become aware of things in the west.

Infrastructure also needs to be changed in order to provide hospitality to the tourists. This creates businesses and commerce in Ladakh.

The Indian government is the third example of globalization. The Indian government has linked Ladakh with roads or also called highway development.

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order to bring those goods, transportation is required, which has affected the environment due to diesel trucks. In order to develop and construct these highways, the environment was also affected. Trees, mountains, and ecosystems were destroyed in order to build the road. However, the most serious concern is that the government is also subsidizing food (especially wheat and barley), which is done with free- market trade. With food at very low prices, independent farmers can’t and are not able to compete with these products. In result, the agriculture of Ladakh is greatly affected. Unemployment is also seen as a consequence from the agricultural impact in Ladakh.

All of the three examples are heavily related because they are all things that are affecting the Ladakhi culture. Even though they affect the culture in different aspects, they are all causing a great impact on it.

Throughout the world, there are different perspectives of development. Most people consider it to be like globalization and modernization. However, the Ladakhis have a different perspective. They believe that in the modern world, more and more people are having trouble getting along.

They also consider that they’re splitting up and living separately. Overall, they believe that there actually been progress, but people are not as happy as they used to be.

Under the serious threat the Ladakhis are living in, efficient solutions must be used in order to save the different aspects of the Ladakhi culture. First of all, it is necessary to know a major factor of the problem. The factor is that children are

being shaped by their surroundings. The “modern” ideas they are being exposed to will greatly affect the future of the Ladakhi culture. Since the children are the future of Ladakh, it is crucial to teach them the culture’s values and guide them through the right path. This would require the help of the Ladakh council and of each household in order to guide the future of Ladakh. It is also very important to state that the Ladakhis should not live against the current (modern ideas), but with the current. If they want survive, they should go with the current but having limits to what enters their culture.

The first solution, which is already taking place, is the help from the International Society for Ecology and Culture. This solution is planned to help and support food and farming in Ladakh. The project aims on giving knowledge to Ladakh farmers about farming techniques throughout the world.

This way, the farmers are able to know what they can use that won’t harm them.

The second solution would be using renewable energy. This would fit Ladakh culture because it doesn’t contaminate the environment at all. If help is needed in order to acquire this type of energy, the Ladakhs could ask for help either from the government or international organizations. Renewable energy would provide the Ladakhs not only with higher self- esteem towards their culture, but also with a source of energy that doesn’t harm the environment.

The third solution would be establishing a council that can actually represent them further than Ladakh territory.

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This way, the Ladakhs could have a voice throughout India and the rest of the world.

They could ask for things and would be recognized. They might come to agreements with the government amount topics such as the cheap wheat and barley. By strengthening their political aspect, Ladakhs could gain rights and have a voice in which they would be heard. Even though the Ladakhs might not be interested in politics, having their council in a larger scale could benefit the population.

The fourth solution, which is also taking place, is Women’s alliance of Ladakh.

Since men and children are now spending a lot of time in the cities in search for jobs and schooling, the women of Ladakh are left alone and their decision- making power is decreasing. ISEC is currently helping these women by making campaigns, training centers, festivals, etc. This type of help increases their awareness and helps them receive an income without leaving their rural land.

The fifth solution lies in education.

Since the future population of Ladakh is mostly children at school, it is necessary for them to be aware of what their culture is going through and to make them know the reality of western culture. Programs such as the one for women should be done in order to reunite and reestablish connections with each other in Ladakh. This way children and other Ladakh people can integrate and work together (as they traditionally did).

This would strengthen the knowledge of the children towards their own culture. In order to make this solution possible, help could be retrieved from organizations and agencies.

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Solutions such as the ones recently stated could help this threatening society to preserve their culture and land.

These solutions cover various aspects such as: social, political, environmental, cultural and economical. It is clear that the Ladakhs canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t fight against globalization, but what they can do is limit the power and effect it has on their culture.

In conclusion, the Ladakhs is a culture that has been around for centuries.

Its traditions, ideas, and relationships have made it into a sustainable culture. However, external influences such as globalization and modernization are transforming it.

The Ladakhs canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t go against globalization, but they can blend and adapt to it. By finding efficient and prosperous solutions, the Ladakhi culture can be stopped from disappearance. This ancient culture, which has been around for centuries, provides the secret on how the to live the future.

Felipe Trujillo - 11th Grade

Federico Esguerra - 12th Grade

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10 Pasos para adaptarse al CNG Luna Yamashita - SNL 11

¡Bienvenidos al Colegio Nueva Granada! En estas líneas, les enseñaré cómo sobrevivir en esta escuela siendo un estudiante nuevo.

Yo sólo he estado aquí por dos meses, y por eso puedo decir que soy una estudiante bastante nueva. A pesar de que ya he vivido en siete países diferentes desde que nací, mudarse a un nuevo país y por lo tanto a una nueva escuela siempre es algo difícil.

Es por eso que esta guía de 10 pasos les ayudará a estar un poco más tranquilos al llegar a este colegio.

1) Tengan en cuenta que esta escuela es grandísima. Estando acostumbrada a una escuela con sólo 50 alumnos en cada curso, al llegar aquí me sorprendió el número de estudiantes que asistían a esta escuela. Hay alrededor de 120 estudiantes en cada grado.

Acepten el hecho de que no es posible conocerlos a todos aunque estén en el mismo curso. Como esta escuela es tan grande, las posibilidades de estar en todos las clases con sus amigos son bastante escasas; solo podrán tener como mucho 2 clases con los mismos alumnos, ya que todos elegimos distintas clases. Además, ustedes no van a saber al principio que alumnos son de sus mismos grados ya que tendrá clases con una mezcla de alumnos de distintos grados. Cálmense.

Va a tomar un tiempo para recordar todos esos nombres, pero eventualmente se acostumbrarán y podrán recordar algunos nombres, aún los nombres de las personas que no conocen muy bien.

2) Cuando dije “grandísima”, no solo me refería al número de estudiantes que asisten a la escuela, sino a la escuela en si– su infraestructura. Esta escuela cubre, básicamente, toda una parte de una montaña, con numerosas escaleras y edificios. Hay un

recreo o descanso de 10-15 minutos entre clases porque para cambiar de un salón a otro se necesita ese tiempo. Pasear por la escuela es como ir de excursión a una montaña.

Traten de no olvidar ningún objeto en sus clases, ya que no les gustará, y lo repito, no les gustará regresar todo el camino de subida o bajada a su clase sólo para recoger su libro, o cualquier otra cosa, olvidada. Por las primeras semanas, sentirán que respirarán con dificultad por el ejercicio súbito de subir y bajar la montaña. No se preocupen, no es nada, sólo tienen que echarle la culpa a la altura de Bogotá. También le recomiendo que no usen zapatos muy estilizados, para la subida y bajada. Lo mejor son zapatos cómodos. ¡Adiós elegancia!

3) Lleven siempre un paraguas. Bogotá es una ciudad donde llueve mucho, sobre todo a partir del mes de marzo. Esta escuela es una escuela donde se camina por fuera para llegar a las clases, por lo tanto, a no ser que les guste estar empapados todo el día, les recomiendo que no suelten su paraguas.

Si bien es cierto que hay techos para protegerse del agua no siempre funcionan perfectamente. La lluvia no siempre cae hacia el mismo lado y la cantidad de agua que empieza a correr desde arriba parece una mini cascada de Iguazú.

4) Hay varios lugares para almorzar en el colegio, sin embargo, si ustedes quieren comer en la cafetería, deben correr allá inmediatamente después de que sus clases terminen. En los 5 minutos después de la campana, habrá una cola larga, demasiado larga y tendrán que esperar mucho tiempo hasta que finalmente puedan satisfacer sus apetitos.

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5) Si no les gusta el pollo o la carne, no coman en la cafetería. Tienen pollo y diferente tipos de carnes (o a veces pescado) todos los días.

6) En el tema de los amigos, no se preocupen.

Tengo que admitir que en comparación con otras escuelas en las cuales he estado, esta escuela es muy abierta, socialmente activa y extrovertida. Los estudiantes aquí están completamente acostumbrados a los nuevos estudiantes y les encanta conocer gente nueva. Sin embargo, al igual que en cualquier otra escuela, es obvio que tendrán que hacer un esfuerzo para hacer nuevos amigos y no sólo esperar a que alguien los invite a una buena conversación.

7) Nunca lleguen tarde por las mañanas.

No importa donde estén sus clases, por unos pocos minutos de retraso tendrán que ir a la oficina para conseguir un pase, de lo contrario sus padres recibirán un correo explicando que no se presentaron al colegio, desatando una pequeña crisis en sus casas.

8) Si ustedes tienen algo que decirle a alguien dígalo en ese momento. No piense “voy a hablar con él/ella más tarde”, ya que será difícil verlos de nuevo rápidamente. Si ustedes tienen preguntas para hacerle a un maestro, hagan esas preguntas en el momento en que lo ve. No esperen. Se los dije, esta escuela es enorme y todo el mundo siempre está ocupado. A menos que ustedes hagan una cita, no tendrán mucha suerte en tratar de encontrar a la persona que querían ver.

9) Se debe acudir inmediatamente a su consejero de la escuela para obtener un correo electrónico del colegio. Si no, guarden los números de sus conocidos en 34

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sus teléfonos. Esto es para que puedan recibir las noticias de los eventos importantes como asambleas, día de uniforme formal y otros. Si no tienen el correo electrónico, llegarán un día a su clase y verán que no hay nadie. Pensarán tal vez no hay colegio.

Pues, se equivocan– probablemente todos estén en una asamblea y ustedes sean los únicos que no saben.

10) Siempre lleven un poco de dinero. No estoy segura acerca de en las otras escuelas, pero aquí en CNG se necesita dinero para poder imprimir. Si ustedes son nuevos en Bogotá y recién se están mudando, existe una enorme posibilidad de que su impresora aun no haya llegado y muchas veces se necesitan copias para poder estudiar. Si por nervios comen compulsivamente, necesitarán dinero para poder comprar comida en las maquinitas o en el “Snack Shack”. Algunos viernes se pueden venir vestidos con ropa casual al colegio. No necesitan llevar el uniforme, pero para esto también tienen que pagar. Si ustedes son ahorradores compulsivos, planeen lo que van a hacer. Todo está en sus manos.

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Lina Merizalde - 11th Grade

Manuella Escorcia - 12th Grade

Martina Llinas - 11th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Como si Fueran Alienígenas Mariana Mosquera - Sociales 11

¿Qué harías si un día común tal y como este llegaran unos seres extraños con miradas hostiles y agresivas y te llevaran a ti y a algunos miembros de tu familia a un planeta desconocido? Y que después de esto te abandonaran en una de sus futuristas avenidas. Luego, al mirarla está inundada de vehículos y personas, pero tú y los tuyos están completamente solos.

Nadie te quiere ahí, nadie te necesita ahí, pero tú si necesitas de ellos.

Esto es algo muy parecido a la trama de la película Los Colores de La Montaña dirigida por el Colombiano Carlos Arbeláez en colaboración de Cine Colombia. El largometraje es contado por la voz de la inocencia, la voz de la infancia, la voz de Manuel y sus amigos. Cuenta la historia de cómo la dura realidad se va interponiendo poco a poco a sus juegos y la normalidad en su vereda. Su mundo a esa edad es simplemente una reluciente esfera blanca con negro, es una cancha de pasto verde con aroma al campo. Pero así como esta cancha es toda su vida, esta llegó a poder convertirse fácilmente en el lecho de su muerte. La guerrilla son los extraterrestres, son seres anónimos que pocas veces se ven, pero si se aseguran de que los habitantes de “La Pradera” los oigan. El niño que pasa en muletas sin una pierna, el sonido de los helicópteros en la noche, los grafitis en las paredes al principio solo eran signos de un conflicto armado todavía lejano, pero muy presente. Las minas tienen el propósito de una muerte lenta, pues dejan a una persona incompleta para que su imagen quede estampada en toda la población, e irradie terror. Todo esto con el fin de que se cumpla lo que los abominables grupos armados quieren. Que unan, o que se vayan.

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Inevitablemente, los habitantes de la vereda tratan de resistirse ante las huellas de la guerrilla, tratan de vivir alrededor del miedo y la incertidumbre en lo posible, para no tener que dejarlo todo, e irse a un planeta desconocido como es para ellos la ciudad.

Por más de que el conflicto este presente hace más de medio siglo, sencillamente no hay manera de prepararse. O mejor dicho si hay manera de preparar un plan post destierro, pero por su estabilidad emocional la única salida es pensar que esas tragedias les pasan a otros. Simple supervivencia humana.

Muchos de ellos no saben ni siquiera leer y escribir y sus sabios conocimientos de la tierra y el abono son inútiles en la metrópolis que los espera. Esto se da también por la inestabilidad de las instituciones educativas.

Un ingrediente clave para el progreso en cualquier país es la educación y este elemento en las veredas de este tipo es casi nulo. En la pequeña escuela de la película se proyecta la situación casi idéntica a como es en realidad. Teniendo en mente que esta es una localización privilegiada, ya que en muchas veredas la escuela es sencillamente inexistente. Un solo salón, con cinco diferentes cursos integrados bajo la supervisión de una profesora. Es decir se supone que una sola persona debe cerciorarse de que alumnos de casi todas las edades aprendan lo más básico, se comporten, se respeten y pongan atención.

Cuando es rutinario que la educadora tache con un lápiz rojo a un alumno casi por día, pues es obvio que la amenaza de la guerrilla o los paramilitares les estaba respirando encima y los obligo a evacuar. Asimismo, en instituciones escolares de ese tipo, el nivel académico lógicamente es precario porque debido a la baja densidad de pedagogos se le suma que el ministerio de educación

no debe tener la asequibilidad de vigilar e inspeccionar mucho estas entidades tan frágiles. Con el simple hecho de que la mayor parte del semestre los estudiantes naturalmente no cuentan con una profesora, ya que la última fue y obligada a huir por causa de la violencia, y casi nunca existe una próxima que quiera servir a la noble causa.

Simplemente porque sabe que será parte de la aterradora cifra que incrementa cada día de veinticinco mil profesoras amenazadas y quien sabe cuántas asesinadas. Ser profesora de una vereda no es un trabajo, es un regalo a los niños. Es amor puro a una Colombia que llora. Ella duerme en una rudimentaria habitación, sola, dentro de la misma escuela que probablemente debe contar con mínimos servicios sanitarios. No tiene a nadie quien la espere después de un arduo día de trabajo. Pero ella juega el papel de casi que un Mesías para las personas de la región, en especial los niños. Ella misma dirigió la situación de la cancha minada prohibiendo a los niños acercarse y sugiriendo poner un cartel gigante alertando a toda la comunidad del peligro. La “profe” es: mamá, salvadora, fuente de esperanza, a veces alcaldesa y por último, profesora. El rol que juegan las escuelas rurales es muy diferente al que estamos acostumbrados nosotros. ¿Porqué los grupos armados escriben frases amenazadoras al grupo contrario y mensajes estimulando el reclutamiento de civiles en la pared de la escuela? La razón es básica.

Así como la escuela es una institución frágil y delicada también es la más solida del perímetro. La guerrilla y paramilitares tienen muy claro el impacto que van a causar sus mensajes. Imaginarse lo que sería poner dos representantes del ejército al frente de lo que los grupos armados consolidaron

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como su mural es algo sobrenatural pero que probablemente haría una diferencia increíble. El papel de la profesora no es últimamente lograr que los niños vayan a la universidad porque eso no la realidad para ellos. Lógicamente deberían existir excepciones pero como país dependemos de ellos para comer, para vivir. La profesora y la escuela en si deben mantener a los niños alejados de las armas y darles conocimientos básicos para poder avanzar con sus tierras.

Otra herramienta de protección social y empuje en la escala económica seria que ellos se aliaran en conjunto para trabajar para proveedores o empresas agropecuarias más grandes, que les ofrecieran más sustentos.

La guerrilla arrasa con veredas de pequeña magnitud porque saben que es fácil, son pocos, y se podría decir que están bastante aisladas de pueblos consolidados. La idea sería que ellos siguieran siendo campesinos y agricultores o ganaderos pero cerca a áreas más pobladas o en conjunto con otras veredas pequeñas. La solución directa seria poner bases del ejército con cada vereda.

Queremos ayudar a los “aliens” pero sabemos que la solución al problema no está en darles una moneda en el semáforo. Esta en capacitar profesoras y personal a que lleguen a las veredas a no solo enseñarles a los niños sino a toda la comunidad que no deben vivir en la ignorancia y que deben denunciar cualquier disturbio y exigir presencia militar lo antes posible. Esto no sucederá de un día para otro pero somos todos contra ellos.

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Girl Power Estefania Szapiro - Pre-AP English 11

Gender roles have been an issue in society throughout time. Men have always outshone women making their position more prestigious. Nevertheless, there have been artistic protests against it. Rupert Goold’s Macbeth (2010) set around WWII and Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) display this by empowering their female characters.

Both directors are extremely talented and successful ones, despite coming from different times. They made their statement by making women strong signifying that it is not only men who always take the lead. These directors contributed to an alternate and powerful role for women by placing them in specific angles, giving them strong personalities, and lighting them in a certain way.

Marion Crane, Psycho’s main female character is an impatient woman with a straightforward mind. She shows her independence by having an official job, something relatively new in society for the time. For a start, being a woman and stealing forty thousand dollars was a huge risk. Marion was nevertheless strong and determined.

When addressing Norman about going back to Phoenix to repair her “trap”, (0:43:03) her seriousness and tense factions display her determination and courage to fix her mistake. Set in a ¾ frontal horizontal angle, Marion is slightly hiding her mistake but facing it for the most. The vertical angle set low gives her power and confidence. The scene in the shower after Marion has set her mind upon returning signifies her regret. By cleaning herself she is in a way purifying and starting over. Mrs. Bates interrupts this with Marion’s murder. Like Marion, she is a woman taking serious and dangerous action.

Hitchcock assembled this scene (0:47:35) clearly so that the lighting favors Mrs. Bates in 38

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a darker shade showing her strength against her victim, a paler and weaker Marion.

Mrs. Bates and Lady Macbeth share similar characteristics and both relate to Marion. Goold displayed Lady Macbeth as a confident and manipulative woman.

When confronting Macbeth about leaving the daggers in Duncan’s room, she did it in a controlling manner so that Macbeth felt oppressed and guilty. She proved to be stronger than him when he refused to go back and she took action. In this scene (1:22:38) Goold represents equality among sexes zooming Macbeth and Lady Macbeth at the same viewpoint. He also places them at the same level but in opposite sides. However, Lady Macbeth displays more power by holding the daggers and pointing them towards Macbeth. Like Mrs. Bates, she manipulates a male (in her case Macbeth and in Mrs. Bates´ Norman) into committing crimes. They continually boss them around calling them weak, unmanly, cowards and putting themselves on top of them. Mrs. Bates even refuses to follow orders from her supposed inferiority when he asks her to go into the basement and then forcefully carries her (1:26:37).

Lady Macbeth’s conscience eventually reacts and sends her into trauma with symptoms of an unconscious compulsive hand washing. (1:16:35) This reaction represents the attempt to take the guilt away from her hands that are responsible for taking action. Hitchcock represents hands in Mrs. Bates ‘ room implying that she took action when murdering (1:37:29). Lady Macbeth reveals her regret and self-consciousness allowing the public to see a weakness in her.

As mentioned before, Marion washes her guilt

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of as well. Norman cleans his hands too after the murder of Marion for the same purpose.

(00:53:00) The audience however perceives it as only taking caution for not having evidence on him instead of revealing guilt.

In Macbeth, Lady Macbeth first pushes Macbeth into the murdering world.

Nevertheless, he slowly adapts to it planning and assessing all the other murders. Macbeth reaches a point where his “mind is full of scorpions” and surpasses Lady Macbeth’s limits. In the scene at 1:22:38 Macbeth blocks her and turns her more vulnerable. Goold displays power by illuminating Macbeth brighter. He sets Lady Macbeth behind some bars suggesting her imprisonment.

In Psycho, (after discovering of Norman’s bipolarity) the psychologist explains how at first Norman committed the murder of his mother and lover and from then gave into his “mother control” slowly. Both change from one influence to another, Macbeth weakening the female power and Psycho strengthening it as the story unravels. Sam discovers at 1:41:22 that Norman commits all murders while dressed as a woman.

Andrea Szaphiro - 11th Grade

Both movies display female supremacy indirectly. In the end the women are the driving force behind the whole plot.

For each time period, the corresponding females proceeded as superior from the rest. Their evil intentions can in no way be justified. However their actions driven by their courage and leadership ought to be recognized. The plots, Goold and Hitchcock all stress female supremacy using cinematographic techniques.

Alejandro Saldarriaga - 12th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Clothing, it’s Meaning and it’s Use Jeronimo Sudarsky - Literacy and Composition - Grade 11

In Akira Kurasawa’s Throne of Blood and Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, clothing and other accessories such as headgear convey a meaning. In most cases, it is a message that describes the character’s emotions, state and intentions. Both directors use different scenes and clothing to produce a contrast between the items of clothing that hold the most meaning or appear to be the more relevant and extravagant.

In this shot, Marione is using a white bra, in the scene she is with her lover. She seems happy, in love and living a fairytale life. Since this is the first scene, Marione is just a beautiful, regular, happy woman, neither accused nor guilty of anything yet.

She is innocent and full of dreams and light, as well as the scene itself and even the room she is in. Hitchcock implies she is clean and removed from any impurity or crime. White is used to represent all of those characteristics that first define Marion to the audience; the bra has to be the bearer of these messages for simpler, more commercial reasons.

In contrast to the previous shot, Marione is now wearing a black bra and skirt, even her face and the room itself appear a little darker.

From the previous scene to this one allot has changed in the movie’s plot, Marione is now guilty of taking the money that was placed in her trust and stealing it. This turns the sweet innocent image we had of Marione, into a criminal, with secrets, guilt and actions that represent the color of her clothes. Even her skirt carries a purpose, she is now less free, more secretive, preoccupied.

In this scene Asaji, the equivalent to Lady Macbeth, is manipulating Washizu to kill Lord Kunimaru. The object of clothing 40

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that comes out the most is her robs since they produce a strong contrast with her dark, black hair. I remember a line from Macbeth that Lady Macbeth emphasizes strongly to show her more human vulnerable side, apart from the way she acted before the deed. “My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white” (Act II Scene 2). I believe this is a reference to that aspect of lady Macbeth and in this case Asaji. The bright, white robs are her innocent, afraid heart, however her dark, black hair represents her dark, corrupted mind. Since in the movie there is no mention of this line this would be a viable more symbolic way to portray that aspect of Lady Macbeth, or in this case Asaji.

Even though these Japanese helmets might have a cultural meaning, they may also mean an important theme in Macbeth. The cycle of ambition and violence in both, the book and this movie is highlighted. As Murakami claims, Lord Kunimaru also achieved his lordship over Spiders Web Castle by assassinating the previous lord, in reference to that, both Murakami’s and Kunimaru’s helmets are in the shape of a circle, a cycle if you may.

However, the cycle is incomplete as well as the helmet’s circle.

This is the first helmet Murakami uses before being named lord of the First Garrison, after achieving this rank Murakami receives a new helmet with the circle more complete, and when he receives his last helmet the circle is almost complete, left to fill up by Miki’s son.

Both directors use clothing to convey a meaning however they do it to convey different kinds of meaning in allusion to

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different subjects. In Throne of Blood, clothing is as a reference to something very specific in Macbeth. While in Psycho, clothing portrays the characters emotional state, Kurasawa manages to combine cultural clothing with its cultural meaning and its references to the play and theme he is interpreting. On the other hand, Hitchcock uses basic metaphors coming from colors and what they could represent.

Michellle Katz - 12th Grade

Nicolas Acosta - 11th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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My Prejudicial Me Anonymous - English 10

Near the end of the Literature and Social Justice course at CNG, students are asked to write a personal reflection on their own deepest prejudice. Responses can be related to race, ethnicity, nationality, gender, sexuality, class, age, ability, weight, religious or political views, etc.

Students question how they developed their prejudice, and if they are able to trace it back to something or someone specific.

Students explore whether this is something they hope to change in themselves, and how they have already or might in the future go about making that change.

Identifying and meaningfully examining these kinds of often unconscious or unconscionable feelings and beliefs is difficult. However, if we are unable to gaze unflinchingly into our own personal dark spaces, then how shall we summon the courage to address these issues on a societal level?

The author of this particular essay has chosen to remain anonymous.

I like to think of myself as a very respectful person. I consider that I am openminded and accepting of different ideals and lifestyles. Due to this, I find it hard to decide what my biggest prejudice is. I also realize that most people probably have the same problem and it’s mostly due to the fact that we are usually unaware that we diminish others. We do it, but unconsciously; we don’t realize that we are hurting others with our thoughts, attitudes and actions.

They come out naturally and we assume that it what is normal. This is why dealing with stereotypes and prejudices is so hard, because most people don’t realize that what they are doing is wrong. One easily fools 42

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oneself and doesn’t see or fight this problem.

Going over these topics is what makes us actually become aware of our behavior, just like in class some realized that they had unreasonable “hatred” towards gay people and changed their point of view. However, if we had never gone over it, would they have even realized that they were being judgmental? That is where my biggest concern lies. I probably have some hidden prejudice towards some group of people but unless I stop and think twice about it, I probably won’t realize I have it, I will consider it normal, and I won’t be able to fix it. Still, sometimes we do get to leave our ignorant mist and realize that there is something “fishy” about the way we mistreat some people without even really knowing why. This is when we realize we do have prejudices and we that have to face them.

My prejudice: social class. It’s sad to think that we treat people accordingly to their living standards instead of the standards by which they live. We focus on income, clothes, even on talking and walking styles.

I’m not proud to say it but sometimes I feel “better” than people of lower socialeconomic class. It’s weird and not very easy to describe, I see them and they’re normal people, just like me, just like you, just like anybody else. They have feelings, goals, hopes, abilities, they are smart, have their own ideas and opinions, they have their rights… they’re human beings. Then, where does this prejudice come from? Society. At home they teach me to strive for more, to aim to have a full life, with comfort, wealth and to be able to supply my family with at least all that was provided to me. At school, I’m taught that education and attitude are the biggest tools; they give me power and

will take me far in life. These are the two concepts I believe have made me look down on people from a lower class.

Many people don’t get to where we are not because they don’t have the discipline or heart to accomplish it, but because they lack resources. We, however, just assume that they’re lazy. That they aren’t working hard enough or that we are simply better. But why do we feel better?

Is it because we were lucky enough to have been born in a family that was able to provide us with all we ever needed? I know education is a big factor. I completely agree with the idea that an educated mind is an important asset in one’s life, but the education you receive, unfortunately, is not up to you. I’m lucky enough to be able to afford an excellent quality education, but the truth is, I didn’t choose it. It is also true that there are places that provide even better education but my family simply can’t afford it. Well, the same thing happens to people of a lower social-economic class, they may even have more potential than I, be smarter than I, but because they can’t afford the same education, I automatically reject them. We put ourselves above them and focus on our superior education to support that we really are better. But we aren’t.

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with humility, that I see them as my equals. I hope I accomplish this because right now, “I am better.” I have been educated and know much more than them in many aspects. I think my biggest chance of acceptance is to actually focus on what they know more than me. My education will always be of higher quality simply because I can afford it and they can’t. So I think that what I have to do is find respect for what they do know and are capable of. They are better than me in many other aspects, what I have to do is concentrate on and value those aspects so that I can get to respect them and look up to them from a different perspective.

Writing this is my first step. It’s commonly said that the first step in a process is acceptance, and this has led me to reflect upon my own actions and realize that I do have prejudices based on class. Now that I am aware of it, I can start fighting it. Have you ever wondered what you are prejudiced of?

Even as I write all this down I realize most of it doesn’t really make much sense, and I contradict myself. I feel ashamed for considering myself better than others, but I just can’t avoid feeling this way. I’ve written it down, I know it doesn’t make much sense, but it is still a part of me. So how does it work? I’m not really sure and hope I will be capable to completely remove this feeling from myself, to be able to say, honestly and IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Sustainability Essay Silvana Michelsen - Global Studies 9

For a long time we thought that our planet was full of unlimited resources and materials that would last forever.

No one ever thought that one day all of that could disappear. Sustainability, biodiversity, distribution, and preservation were words that people didn’t associate with the environment.

About 15 years ago we realized that the Earth’s natural resources won’t last forever. To help our world improve we have to integrate sustainability into our society, environment, and economy. Sustainability is important to make sure we have the resources, materials, and health we need, without limiting the needs of future generations.

The environment is very important for sustainability because natural resources are what give us a healthy and long lasting life. The way in which people use natural resources has a big effect on the future. Right now many don’t have a sustainable lifestyle and this affects us all. As more and more people consume non-renewable resources and fossil fuels like coal, natural gas, or oil then more pollution is produced, and this leads to global warming. Global warming affects climate so a lot of climate changes occur. Everyone gets affected by a global issue like climate change, but the group that suffers the most are the indigenous peoples.

They shouldn’t be suffering the consequences because they have always lived in a peaceful way without harming the environment.

One indigenous tribe that has been affected is the Inuit tribe, which lives in the Arctic Circle. The ice cap is melting because the Earth is getting hotter, so the Inuit’s territory is shrinking. Before, the ice cap was very thick and each day it is getting 44

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thinner, so their settlements and houses collapse. They have trouble moving from one place to another because less snow is falling so their sleds can’t move that easily.

All these problems mean that the Inuit will have to relocate. Another huge problem is that white settlers used this territory as a strategical point in WWII and the Cold War so they introduced Western culture, and with that they brought alcohol and drugs.

This had a destructive impact in the Inuit, and now many of them have substance abuse, violence, crime, unemployment, and suicide problems.

Indigenous tribes have always been at peace with the environment because they have never harmed it. They don’t waste things, and don’t consume the same amount of resources as we do. Indigenous tribes live as a part of the world, and they live belonging to it. They don’t consume stuff at such a fast rate (like we do) and they only take what they need, just the basic or necessary stuff. They don’t use cars, or other machines that function with fossil fuels like electric power, or heating. They are a group of people that live connected and very close to nature. In this way they contribute to the world because they don’t produce pollution, and they have a sustainable lifestyle.

On the other hand much of the world’s population (including us) live as if the world belonged only to us, as if the world was only ours. Many act as if resources were there for human population to use and waste, as if they would be there forever. We destroy the environment when we know that the Earth is our only home, and we should take care of it. At the same time we destroy biodiversity, and biodiversity is the key to

life. Without biodiversity our planet dies and the whole ecosystem crashes.

We have to think about personal solutions and structural solutions to improve the Earthâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s situation. Some personal solutions that each one can do are: walking produces less pollution and helps the body. Recycling paper helps to prevent deforestation, because paper industries are the 3rd contributor to global warming, you can save energy by turning of the lights. Simple things like those can make big changes if everyone does the same. Structural solutions are things that big companies or governments can do.

Governments should stop spending money in factories, and multinational corporations.

Instead they have to focus on new ways of thinking about solutions. They should encourage industries to use renewable energy, promote recycling, promote forest growth, stop deforestation, promote organic farming, and encourage citizens to have a sustainable life style. If people get encouraged, and contribute then the world can improve.

With all the problems that the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s facing like global warming, climate change, and other major global issues I realized that it is crucial for us to change our lifestyle and to encourage others to do the same. If all of us have a sustainable lifestyle then the world will be better for future generations.

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NicolĂĄs Medina - 10th Grade

Federico Esguerra - 12th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Sustainability in our Everyday Lives Marian Aristizabal - Global Studies 9

The world is slowly dying and the only reasonable way to save it is having a sustainable lifestyle. Living a sustainable lifestyle means that it’s the ability of meeting our needs without preventing the future generations to meet theirs. But why is that important? We live in a mainly globalized world full of consumerism ideas which can be good up to a certain point; but right now sustainability is the only reasonable way to keep our world alive. Because our resources are slowly finishing we must implement the sustainability concept in three different areas: in our society, at our environment and in our economy.

In 1905 the average life expectancy in the U.S was 47 years, there were only around 1.4 million people, and there were only 230 reported murders. Only 8% of the homes had a phone and a three minute phone call from Denver to New York would cost 11 dollars. Right now the average life expectancy in the U.S is of 78.1 years. There are currently 36,961,664 people in the U.S.A with California being the most populated state, while in 1905 it occupied the 21st position. Right now the homicide death rate per 100,000 is of 6.10 and the great majority has a phone. What happened to our society?

Capitalism, consumerism and globalization, that happened. In a little more than 100 years the numbers have increased so much that it can almost be preoccupying. Culture has been a mayor influence in people’s decisions and it isn’t always good. There are different cultures around the world right now but of course some are stronger than others, ours is pretty much depleting the rest. That means the lost of very important and ancient knowledge on Earth such as medicine. A sustainable solution should be capable of not putting in danger 46

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other cultures or the different actual or future social institutions. It’s pretty obvious that in 1905 the people’s culture was very different and it’s also pretty obvious that our world wasn’t in such a danger as it now is. What we can do to help is to encourage people to have a more broad knowledge of different cultures and learn from them, especially of those who are capable of living a sustainable life. Some of the cultures that have that lifestyle are the indigenous tribes! The thing is that thanks to all of our so called “progress” is finishing up with them, which brings me to the next point.

How come indigenous tribes tend to live in complete peace with nature and their environment? For example, the Iroquois base their actions on the effects it will have 7 generations after them. Why? Well, because they have a sustainable lifestyle. If you were to compare what an average New York citizen wastes yearly with what a member of the Iroquois wastes it’s pretty obvious who would be the greatest waster. There are about 300 million indigenous people around the world and about 50 million of them live and always have lived in the tropical rainforests. The same rainforests that lose about 50,000 animal, plant and insect species per year and the same rainforest that lose one and a half acres every second. That’s bad not only because they are the “world’s lungs” but because one hectare of these forests can contain 750 tree species and over 1500 other plant species, 25 acres of rainforest in Borneo may have 700 tree species which is equal to the total number of trees is the United States and a pond in Brazil may have more fish species than in all the rivers in Europe. Less than 1% of the rainforest species have been investigated that means that there might be cures for so many diseases out there in different plants or animals. There are around

3000 fruits in the rainforest and only 200 of these are used in the Western World while the forest people use around 2000 of them. The thing is that it’s estimated that 50,000 species disappear every year. There must be a way to maintain peace with our environment and there is. The people of the Amazon’s have been living there for ages and they lived perfectly fine by only taking and using what they need and they have lived perfectly fine. We don’t need to live like them but we should learn and find a way to adapt it to our lifestyle. A way of doing that is by using renewable sources of energy such as wind or hydroelectric power.

However for that you must also reduce the amount of energy you use like leaving unused lights on. Still, we can’t really learn from the different groups and cultures that have a sustainable life style if they are gone, right?

That gets me to the next point.

How come there are so many social en environmental problems throughout the entire world? Well, besides people’s intolerance towards many things the other big thing would be the economy. Everything nowadays is always focused towards that and it might have become a problem. Many of the big companies are now responsible for most of the deforestation; including huge enterprises like Mitsubishi Corporation or Texaco and also a lot of paper companies are destroying the forests. Why? Well, to make money of course. The average American will see 500 advertisements per day of companies trying to get more customers to buy their products, products that probably took a lot of natural resources needed for their fabrication. However, how much advertisement does a person living in the Sahara such as the Bambara see daily?

They don’t waste what they have in products

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that might not even be essential, meaning, they don’t contribute to companies making more and more of they’re products. From them we can learn that if we reduce the amount of products used the less they will feel like producing. We can recycle, we can reuse or we can just find an alternate solution for a thing. For example, instead of buying water bottles (which are very harmful to the environment) on a daily basis people can use just one single bottle and refill it. There are really more important things than wealth, people just need to realize that.

Sustainability is being able to meet your needs without preventing next generations to meet their, in order to do that it must be applied in three different important areas: society, environment and economy.

“Achieving sustainability will enable the earth to continue supporting human life as we know it.” This quote is apparently very well known since I’ve already seen it in many different websites but it pretty much sums up the main idea and purpose of sustainability.

People really need to realize that having a sustainable lifestyle is in its way to become a must before it’s too late.

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Sang Yun Bae - 12th Grade

Silvia Zarrate - 9th Grade

Alejandro Saldarriaga - 12th Grade

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Anger!!!!

Danielle Emery - English 11 I get mad so easily and I don’t know why.

My mind turns into a demon.

Sometimes I would like to be sweet as pie.

Wanting to defeat someone.

I’m like a ventriloquist, wanting people to talk for me.

I can be as stubborn as a bee.

When people ask me how I feel, most of the time that question makes me want to tear myself to pieces.

Anger..

When I get mad I feel tense and grasp whatever I have & hold it tight.

I have my fingers fully stretched or I start to shake.

Sometimes wanting to fight.

It makes me ache!

Anger..

When people suggest something I don’t want to do. Like going to someone for help.

I start to filter sounds: voices, sometimes calling my name.

Rarely sounds like a yelp but mostly it may seem like a game.

Even though people are talking, I stop understanding.

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I start to see things other people don’t see.

A body figure that isn’t there or other different things like shadows.

Sometimes I feel like they want to help me.

I lose my appetite, sometimes taste blood.

Whenever I feel very angry I start to tear up, sometimes feeling like I’m crying blood.

Sometimes I can smell blood.

Anger..

At the end I feel like I’ve shut the door forever so it will never be open ever again, like not having a bloodstain anymore.

I can keep walking when the problem isn’t too severe, so the problem is so near.

If I hold a grudge, I will EXPLODE! “AAHH!!!!!.

I will yell and scream. Even after a few days later…I will still feel PISSED OFF, but calm…

That’s the end of it all.

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War with Mankind Cristina Serrano - English 11 Her smile hid tears.

“I don’t want you to be like your father.

That’s all.”

Existence cabined, crippled, confined.

“That’s all.”

Smoke is desolate, absolute.

What’s done is done.

Alejandro Saldarriaga - 12th Grade

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Speak to Me Estefania Szapiro - English 11 Why should I play the Roman fool and die?

What, will these hands never be clean? Never!

We will proceed no further in this business.

I dare do all that may become in love And live a coward in thine own esteem.

Such I account thy love. Are thou afeard?

I wish all of our past could have survived this battle.

We shall not spend a large expense of time Before the time, too terrible, is gone.

Things that do sound so fair in the name of truth Are too fantastical for you! If you Can look into the seeds of time speak not.

Feel it as a man, speak then to me.

Camilo Villa - 11th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Acronyme Mariana Mosquera - Français II - Grade 11 Frénétique Intéressante Organisée Noble Active

Daniela Duarte - 12th Grade

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To My Grandpa Sergio Mantilla - English 10 Brave affectionate father Eternal helper and comfort You turn off the TV so I can to study Stubborn old man stubborn old sage I love you I love you Without thinking you always protect me Everything is done as you say And everything goes as planned Intelligent old man smart old friend I love you I love you With every good grade I feel your pride And with all my faults you try and correct Every moment that goâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s on I learn more about you No one is eternal but I wish that you were I lost a dad and another would be worse And come that day when you pass my words will say Stubborn old man stubborn old sage You have taught me well

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Acronyme Mariana Mosquera - Franรงais II - Grade 11 Mignonne Active Reconnaissante Imaginative Aimable Noble Affectueuse

Daniela Duarte - 12th Grade

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Confessions of a Troubled Mind Cristina Samper - English 11

As I was sitting in the couch of the psychologist´s office, I tried to think of a convincing story that would cover for Emma. I heard the impatient clicking of Dr. Hepburn´s pen, and turned towards the window to see a bluebird fly by like a bullet, and start attacking some innocent bird´s nest. Impressed, I turned around and looked at Dr. Hepburn. She opened her eyes wide, and repeated the question. “Tell me what happened that day John“, she said.

I started speaking. “The room was very light,” I began, though I lied. The room was actually very gloomy, the way I imagined it, “all I could see from where I was sitting was a beautiful bluebird on the tree close to my window, and the phone that sat on the little round table beside it.” I lied here too. There were two phones in my head and the bird was sitting on a park bench really far away from the window. “When the phone rang I waited for the third ring until I picked up. I could hear the person on the other line was breathing hard, almost sobbing but all I could do was repeat ‘Hello? Hello?’ I ran over to the window because I could hear noise from outside. And there she was, with her phone in her hand looking at my window. She had her favorite dress on and was standing on the top of the building next to mine; the wind blew against her dress pulling her to the edge of the building. I was going to tell her to stop, to turn around and choose to live. But before I could, she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the roaring cars under her feet. And that’s it. That’s all I know,” I tell Hepburn, who forgot she had to write all of this down and was just staring at me. I smiled at her when she finally snapped out of her train of thought. I had been biting on the inside of my lip since I got here, and now I felt it swollen and sensitive, like a little ball that accompanied me everywhere and would know all my secrets. If that ball could speak, I would be in jail by now.

“Alright John,” she began, while taking a deep breath, “this has been very helpful.”

Then she murmured something else under her breath which instantly made me know she didn´t believe a word I said.

“This is it for today but I’ll see you next week and we’ll keep going, alright?” I robotically nodded, stood up and took my car keys and coat before walking towards the door. I shook her hand and left, blending into the crowd of people leaving their offices, leaving my car in the parking lot figuring that I could use a walk, and maybe the polluted air in the city might poison me and kill me before dinner. As I walked home, the ball inside my mouth stings and reminds me of what really happened that day. The reason why it’s been raining ever since, and why trees decided to make me their enemy instead of their friend.

Emma was my college crush for three years, and we went out for four. I was ready to marry her, but before I could propose, she got the news that her father had been murdered.

She became sad and quiet during the investigation of the criminal, and when the DNA turned out to be hers on the weapons that were used to kill the man, I broke up with her because

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she was going to ruin my life even though she swore to her grave that she hadn’t killed her father. I wanted to remember the rest of our love story, but I could already see my building in the distance and it occurred to me that Emma might listen to my thoughts and anyway I was going to remember that day again tonight in my dreams. Since the smog didn’t kill me, I got home for dinner hungry and very wet. I turned on the TV and listened to the news as I slid into a t-shirt and sweats.

“Hello babe,” I began as I crawled into the bed and kiss Emma, who is reading the news with my glasses on. “Hi,” she said calmly as she kissed me back. “How was your appointment?” she asked in a kind but not interested way. “It was alright. I did what you wanted me to do.”

I said trying not to show the fear in my tone. She looked at me suddenly interested and I couldn´t help but look at her, and wonder how she did it. How she could ever hypnotize a man like me with just one look. She reached out her hand and I put mine in hers. She kissed me and smiled mischievously. “Good.” she said, keeping her smile, leaning in to kiss me again. I wanted to say no. I wanted to throw her out the window, but I knew what she was capable of, I knew what she would dare to do to me if I didn’t kiss her back. So I did. I couldn’t help I was in love with her. I hated love, a terrible curse, that’s all it is. ***

That night the dream comes; the dream that’s karma’s way to remind me that I’m a failure.

I’m buying roses for Mary on Valentine’s Day, walking down Waterville Avenue, and suddenly detect the distinct smell of daisies to my right. Daisies are Mary’s favorite flower, so I buy her two dozens, to be delivered to her place at 7:00, the time she comes home from work. I’m taking out my money and I hear the perfect sound of Emma’s laugh.

She isn’t looking at me while I’m waking up to her but from a distance but I can see her elegance, her prefect red lips and the amazing smell of her perfume. I float up to her and the sparkle in her eyes makes me forget all about Valentine’s Day and Mary. She´s wearing a gorgeous spring dress and a hat that makes the rest of the world look foggy and distorted. Her curls dancing in the wind, her perfect red lips making up that perfect smile, and her laugh, the laugh that makes men turn around to look for the melody in her voice everywhere she goes. She is smiling at the shopkeeper of an antique tea store and as I call her name, she turns to me in pleasant surprise. It´s a face I could look at forever. Before I know it we we´re having dinner in a restaurant that´s too expensive for me to afford, but I´m willing to pay for everything anyway. We’re having coffee and she asks me if I want to go to her place, but before I can say yes, the memory that I had a date with Mary crashes into my mind. So as I’m telling her, her smile slowly fades away. When I finish, she smiles simply and just takes a sip of her Espresso.

“No matter, it was nice seeing you.” she sings to me. “Will you be a dear and do me a favor darling?” she says with big puppy eyes. “If you don’t mind can you go

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over to that waiter with an envelope in his hand, and take the letter addressed to me?”

I nod, and doggedly maze through the crowded restaurant and make my way to the waiter. ‘Emma Crest’. How it makes me happy to read that name. I thank the waiter and walk over to the table to hand it to her, but found the table empty. All there is is a small piece of paper under my wine glass.

‘PLEASE FORGIVE ME, SOMETHING CAME UPI WANT TO SEE YOU AGAINTHE ENVELOPE IS ACTUALLY FOR YOUPLEASE READ IT WHEN YOU GET HOME-E’

I pay the bill and walk home keeping the envelope in my shirt pocket. It’s already 8:00 and as I walk into the lobby I feel nervous of messing things up with Mary. So I run to the elevator, but decide to climb up the stairs instead. When I reach the 7th floor, water is pouring down stairs and there isn’t one voice in ear reach. Normally there would be a couple of kids running down the hallway, maybe two old ladies gossiping against a wall, or a couple of teenagers kissing. I make an attempt to run but feel like I’m in a slow motion scene so it seems to take hours to get to my apartment. When get there, I take in my surroundings and I find the door has been kicked open, light bulbs flicker in the ceiling, and the water is splashing everywhere soaking my shoes and pants. I’m running all around the apartment looking for Mary. I feel like I’m screaming but I don’t seem to be saying anything at all. I’m just breathing hard, looking for oxygen which is apparently all gone in this damned apartment. After I have looked in every room in the house, the last place there is to look for Mary is the bathroom, which I’ve been avoiding since I got here because I know it’s where the water is coming from. I guess I didn´t look there before because I didn’t want to see the horrible scene of a dead Mary. The door is locked but I kick it five times until it breaks open. When I break in, I find myself in a suffocating and dense cloud of steam. The tub is filled with water and bubbles, and the mirror is barely visible. I open the window, turn off the sink’s running water and sit on the corner of the toilet while I wait for by breath to come back. I close my eyes for a moment and as I open them, I realize that the sky is starting to light up again. I wonder how long I’ve been here, realizing that the last time I checked, it was 8:00 and yet this whole episode felt like it was only minutes. Taking a moment to absorb my surroundings I realize that the walls are not clean. They´re yellow and white, not smooth like they would normally be. And it hits me, it’s the daisies. I swear to myself for several minutes and suddenly realize what is going on. I see twenty four destroyed daisies on the ground, and accept the fact that Mary is not going to kiss me ever again. As if it were reading my mind, an unusual noise comes from the bathtub and I know what’s coming. I feel my breath getting harder again, and quickly scan my pockets for my inhaler. I take a few deep breaths and wait a few minutes. I close my eyes and open them to look at the bathtub. Most of the bubbles have disappeared, but I still have to shove a big layer with my arm. Nothing seems to happen so I take my arm and sweep off again the now green bubbles. Again nothing appears to change except the 60

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color of the bubbles. From green to pink, to blue, to black, to white they change until I finally see the clear water, and there she is, my Mary. Dressed in a nightgown that is gently floating in the water. I can tell her hair was pinned up but it is now floating calmly, so quiet and peaceful, I can convince she is sleeping, but I know she’s not. I know she’s gone. I want to cry, I feel it’s courtesy to cry for her, but nothing comes I can’t even pull her out of the water because she looks so beautiful, I just don’t dare to. I reach out my hand to touch her lips and don’t even feel the water touch the tips of my fingers. So I reach over and kiss her. And for a split second, I imagine I’m kissing a mermaid, and I will be saved from water forever. My Mary is a mermaid.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the mirror and some sort of red in it. So I turn around to find a message written in red lipstick ‘READ THE LETTER AND BURN IT’

‘Emma killed Mary.’ I think, ‘Now this is just brilliant. And a letter, what letter? OH! The letter she left for me at the restaurant!’ the letter seems to have somehow become burning hot and is now making my skin ache. I take it from my pocket and go to the kitchen to open it with a knife. The scent of Emma’s perfume stuck in the small envelope fills the room. But I don´t feel happy smelling it anymore. I feel angry and confused, so reading the letter takes me some time. After about six tries, I can.

‘YOU COULD’VE PREVENTED THIS JOHNI LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANY WOMAN CAN OR EVER WILLMEET ME ON TUESDAY AT THE RESTAURANT AT NOON SHE WAS NOT GOOD ENOUGHYOURS TRULY-E’

I couldn’t have prevented this. I know she had killed her father and I know she’s demented. And she is wrong. Mary loved me a million times more than she did, and I want to tell her that; I want to tell her that she ruined my life in less than an hour. I’m going to see her again, on Tuesday at noon. And I’m going to tell her everything. But for now the day is going to be long and tragic. My urge for alcohol becomes stronger but I only realize it when a drink of water felt like a cube of solid butter pushed down my throat. I burn the letter in the kitchen sink, with my lighter, a cigarette between my lips and a bottle of scotch in my left hand. Before the letter burns completely, I’m done with my first bottle. And as I grab the second, I see as the letter turns from white to yellow to black, and then nothing. And as I watch it rinse down the drain I aim for the third bottle of vodka but see a blinding white light coming from the door, and more than one person coming in to visit me. Either that or they are cops. I would prefer it if they were cops, because I can tell them how beautiful Mary looks in the tub. A bearded man I don’t know starts screaming at me in Chinese, and I smile and IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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tell him we are in New York and I don’t speak Chinese. He grabs my arms from behind and hurts my wrists forcing them together with chains. Next thing I know I’m in the police center, handcuffed and alone in an interrogation room. I look at my reflection to my right for a while, as I try to digest what’s going on. I don’t know anything, and this hangover I feel cannot be a good sign. A familiar man, maybe from a dream, comes in the room, introducing himself as Officer Ferris. He asks me if I know where I am and I say no. He tells me I’m a suspect murderer in Mary’s death and that I’ve been asleep in that chair for about twenty four hours.

My head is pounding very hard and as the memories of what happened started to come back, I feel sadness, and the feeling suddenly takes over my senses. I see Mary in the tub, and I see Emma’s mischievous smile. Somewhere in the distance I notice a soft voice that’s getting closer and closer, so loud that I regret even noticing it in the first place. It’s Officer Ferris’s voice explaining what I’m being held here for.

“John do you know who I am?” The man asks in a quizzical tone.

“Detective Ferris isn´t it?” I ask confused of the question “That’s right.” He says playfully. I look at him confused of the question and his tone, and wonder if he knows the gravity of what I am being held accountable for, and the fact that my fiancé has been killed by a demented rich woman that also killed her father. He sits very close to me and his breath smells of cigarettes and coffee and I realize how much I need both. His image starts getting blurry and fades to black, but the scents stay.

As I wake up, I sit up in the bed and look for cigarettes and coffee. ***

“Morning” she said with a hit of bitterness in her tone, never really being a morning person, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, and the morning paper in the other. I saw the cigarette smell came from the ashtray filled with what was left of smoked cigarettes. As I touched the back of my neck, feeling it cold I realized how much I had sweated that night.

“Hi, have a smoke?” I say leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

“Bag,” She replied dryly not looking at me. I stared at her and smiled at her morning beauty, and leaned in to kiss her again but this time on the lips. She kissed me back putting down the paper, and then looked at me in the eyes, and reminded me of my task. “Bag?” she said. I blinked quickly and turned around to find the pack of smokes in her purse.

I remembered about the dream, and felt the need to talk to her about it. “Listen Emma,” I started. “We have to talk. I want to tell you that--”

“Shh.” She interrupted me awkwardly putting her forefinger over my mouth, somehow making me as silent as night. “Please John, don’t talk.” I obediently stayed silent and stared deep in her eyes. She closed them and kissed me passionately. As she slowly brushed her fingers through my hair and pulled me back towards the bed, and with that move, she magically made me stay there with her for the remainder of the day.

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*** *** ***

When he leaves my office, I know he was lying. I know he is hiding something and I have a pretty good guess of what it is. Officer Ferris has spoken to me several times about John’s case and I know there is something missing in that story. Maybe none of it is true. John did not kill Mary Stamford because aside from the fact that he was in her apartment when she was found dead, she was in a bathtub, and there was no sign of his DNA in her body. My guess is that Emma Crest, who does have a criminal record, is the one who committed the crime. My question is why isn’t John turning her in? He has nothing else to lose, and has been offered a big amount of money for that confession. My finger starts to hurt and I realize that I’ve been biting on it for an hour since John left. As if to wake me up from my daydream, the receptionist’s phone starts to ring, so I pick up and send my next client in. But to my surprise, instead of a gorgeous sixteen year old girl coming in the door, I find Officer Ferris with his police hat under his arm. I greet him and ask him to sit down.

“So?” He begins in a professional way, “Did he say anything?” I just shake my head.

I have to tell him. This will not only send that horrible woman to prison, but it might actually get me the reward money I so desperately need.

Slowly and disappointed, he starts getting up and is ready to say goodbye when“Wait!” I say desperately, maybe too desperately but whatever. “I think I do have something.”

I begin hesitantly “Remember that woman he goes out with?” I say, “Emma Crest.”

“Yes” he interrupts thoughtfully looking at me in the eyes. “The woman who killed her father a few years ago, and was in town the day of Mary Stamford’s death”

I nod eagerly and say with eyes open wide. “Well I know she did it officer, I’m turning her in.” “I want it to be anonymous, but I do want that reward. I desperately need it.”

The officer smiles at me as if to say ‘it was about time’ so I smile back, and offer him a seat in front of mine, and tell him everything I know. We stay in my office until about 3:00 am, and we realize how tired we are when we´re out of coffee. So as I am walking him to the door, he explains how the reward money will be delivered to me in a secure place, and I thank him. With all my heart, I say thank you. It occurs to me he´ll never find a cab at this time, so I offer him a ride in my car.

“No, thank you, ma´am, I have my police car” He says, “sleep is good for you. And I know you need it.” he smiles and leaves.

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back to my office and brush my teeth, comb my hair, and change into my pajamas all I can do is smile. Then go down to the reception and take out the pillow and blanket I have under the couch I am sleeping in, since my sister, Emma Crest destroyed my apartment, my life, and everything I had three months before Mary’s death. Mary was my best friend from work, on my second job, as a school psychology teacher. I always knew it had been Emma, but felt it was my duty as a sister to keep her secret, therefore changing my name to Hepburn and keep that past deep in my mind since in fact; I have the evidence to ruin her life. But I waited too long. And I know that if I hadn´t turned her in; she’s going to keep ruining lives. And I suddenly feel so happy to be able to buy a new apartment with the reward money, and so with a smile on my face I sleep like a baby, knowing that that woman is never going to see daylight again.

Diana Osorio - 11th Grade

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La Definición Daniela Berenguer, Juliana Castro, Ana Lucia Echavarría, María Laura Echavarría - Pre-AP Literatura - Grade 12

Contrario a la razón, así me siento con la impresión que se quedó en la memoria del suceso.

Habían ya pasado varios años desde aquel acontecimiento que causó tanta desgracia. Me cambió de forma y aspecto, mi mente vive en una constante psicosis caracterizada por un orgullo exagerado, un egoísmo, un recelo.

Todavía no logro encontrar el significado oculto de aquella sensación subjetiva que no fue precedida por mis sentidos. Me encuentro rodeado de cuatro paredes flamígeras quemando en blanco lo que queda de mí. El plan era para llevar a cabo con éxito el proyecto, nunca llegó a mi razonamiento para demostrar esa proposición. Y ahí morí.

Isabella Londoño - 12th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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The First and Last Night Jazz Cooley - English 11

“Now students, don’t forget to do finish writing your narratives over the weekend.” said Ms. Clearwater

Her red hair ferociously reflected the morning sun giving it a fiery brilliance. Tristan stood up and walked to the door of the classroom but stopped halfway as he heard his name being called by a familiar voice. It was Natalie. He swallowed a wave of nerves that had accumulated at the very second he had her voice spill from her lips as wine does from the bottle it calls home. He had met her on Wednesday on an odd occasion.

He was grabbing a book, and just as it was patiently leaving the shelf, he had lost grip and watched it land on the top of Natalie’s foot. Wiped of its natural color, his face became painted with the color of cherries.

“Sorry,” he said as he bent down to recover his book “It’s alright,” she responded as she watched him get his book “I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?” she asked “Tristan. Yours?”

“My name’s Natalie. What book is that?”

“Snow Patrol.”

“Oh I love that book.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I read it about a year ago. When you’re done with it can I read it?”

“Sure.”

Tristan started towards the checkout counter but stopped as he heard Natalie’s alluring voice.

“We still have an hour left in lunch, do you want to sit down here and talk?”

Tristan examined her figure. Her tan skin seemed to be softer than silk, her brown hair falling down to her waist as if the angels had woven a blanket and bestowed it on their finest child.

And as he looked at her face, he was consumed by her bright emerald green eyes, he could stare into her eyes and never get tired of it. As he examined her, she examined him. His dirty blonde hair that extended over his ears and delicately showed his pale face revealing his dark sapphire eyes that glistened as if they were part of the ocean. Tristan thought about it but then let the chance slip. The raging emotions inside him had made him feel uneasy and nervous.

“Nah, I have to study for a test.” he replied “You can’t study here?” asked Natalie “I prefer to be alone when I study.”

“Ok.” She said, a sense of longing in her voice Tristan checked out the book and left the library haste-fully, Natalie sat down in one of the chairs that looked out on to the school campus and wondered who that boy was. Tristan walked out to the gym, he lingered there for a while but then decided to head back to the library, he peered in through a window to see if Natalie was still in there.

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“Nothing Leland.”

“You sound tense, someone in the library mess with you?”

Leland was the opposite of Tristan, strength wise; even though Tristan was taller than him Leland could handle himself in a fight better than Tristan could.

“It’s just this girl that I met in there.” He confided “Whoa, Tristan you never showed any interest in the girls here. I was beginning to think you were gay.”

“Thanks Leland that makes me feel so much better.”

“I’m just kidding Tristan, who is this girl?”

“Her name is Natalie, other than that I don’t know anything about her.”

He walked into the library with Leland trailing behind him.

“So you think she’s hot?”

“No Leland I don’t think that she’s hot, I think she’s pretty.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes Leland, there is a difference that you probably never thought of.”

“Which is?”

Tristan took a seat and looked up at Leland.

“You see the difference between girls that you consider hot or pretty is simply this. A hot girl is good eye candy but doesn’t really send out a very welcoming presence. Then comes the pretty girl. She is nice to look at and she gives off a very welcoming and pleasant aura.

Another example would be the whole dating and marriage dilemma. I would date a hot girl possibly but I wouldn’t marry her because we all know that girls that look that good will complain of their age and how their beauty is fading away. But I would date and marry a pretty girl because the pretty girl will remain beautiful her whole life and she won’t complain of her age.”

“No wonder you haven’t had a girlfriend. Most of the girls here are hot.”

“Is that an insult Leland?”

“Not really, with that explanation you just gave it’s more of a compliment.”

“Thank you.”

“So what exactly does Natalie look like?”

“She has hair that is softer than silk and shines more brilliantly than the sun has ever or will ever shine. Her tan skin is like bread that has been toasted to perfection, and her emerald eyes could blind me and leave the image of her face in my mind forever.”

“Jeez Tristan, you must really like this girl then.”

“Is that so, what gave me away?”

“So Romeo, when do you plan asking her out?”

“The thought of asking that simple question tears me apart as I have no idea how her response will incarnate. A simple yes with no joy or a rejecting no followed by a swift turn and walk away.”

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“Calm down man, the worst that could happen is her saying no. Are you going to give up on being happy after that?”

“Possibly.”

“Obviously you have strong feelings for her but don’t let that consume you entirely. You just need to calm down.”

“I will after I ask her.”

“Today?”

“No, too soon.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo.”

Two days passed and Tristan had not yet accumulated the courage to ask the fair Natalie out on a date.

And that is how this fair tale reached this point in time in Ms. Clearwater’s classroom.

Tristan waited for Natalie beside the door.

“Hey Tristan.” Natalie beamed “Hey Natalie, what’s up why did you call me?”

“Because you played possum last time silly.”

“Excuse me?”

They both walked out of the classroom together.

“You made up an excuse so you wouldn’t have to talk to me.”

“Oh right.”

“Well why did you do it?”

“Because I was nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous?”

“Well..It’s just that I don’t usually make new friends.”

“Hey don’t worry about it.”

“Alright.”

“So what’s up?” asked Tristan “Not much, just seeing if any of my friends have plans for the weekend.”

“And?” “Nobody is doing anything so I guess I’ll just stay at home.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Yeah I know, unless you want to do anything. Like go to the mall or watch a movie?”

“Sure, tomorrow?”

“Yeah, around three o’clock okay?”

“Okay.”

They walked down the hall until Natalie stopped; they had made it to her science class.

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“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

Tristan walked down the hall to his history class and turned around to look at Natalie, he couldn’t help but smile. This was their last class of the day and then they were free to go home. Tristan couldn’t stop thinking of Natalie. Her gracious form, blinding eyes, and her radiant smile. They were engrossing his mind, he was allowing thoughts of her to consume him. His attention in class was comparable to a small boy watching a documentary about the Sahara desert, very scattered and blurred. Natalie was awestruck

by Tristan’s timidity; by his looks he seemed as if he was a very extroverted person. But she paid no mind to him being introverted, she wanted to know him on a more personal level and that was the goal she had set for herself to accomplish the following day. Tristan however had no goal or needed no goal. All he wanted was to spend a few hours with Natalie. He would be happily satisfied with that alone.

Laura Cabrera - 11th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Raw Cold Pedro Juan Mesa - English 9

“Die! die! die!”

Death.

Damian stood still, the raw boreal sub zero coldness wouldn’t allow him to move his hands. The moment appeared timeless even though it was the middle of the afternoon.

He felt like he had arthritis and couldn’t even manage to remove his hands from the spearing icicle he had used to stab Tom Jacobs. He stood there alone, in the middle of the Alaskan forest, his gloved hands stuck to the icicle that had been used for the murder. It pleased him, it gave him joy and energy. He knew he had to disappear, it was evident that the groom Tom was not going to marry Janice tomorrow morning. Even though he enjoyed it profoundly Damian had been paid a large sum of money to do this.

His client Michael (fellow classmate) knew what Damian was capable of doing, as he had seen Damian stab another kids eye with a crayon to get a building block. Michael had payed a sum of $ 20,000 for something Damian enjoyed doing. Damian couldn’t enjoy anything more than stabbing someone with an untraceable item. The iced blood in his hands was ecstasy for him, and he craved more. Michael had a huge crush on Janice, and even though he promised just to be lovers with her; he craved her and nothing could hurt him more than seeing one of those jerks marrying her. It was the best luck to have become friends with Damian, or so he thought.

Earlier that day, inside the ski lodge one had to be near the fire to keep one’s hands from cramping and thumping. It was a cold that could not be withstood without the help of additional warmth. Near the fire one could describe it as cozy, but the fire was dimming. It was the coldest winter he had ever lived to see and Tom could watch as his business that was only available in the winter and that was usually enhanced by a cold winter was dimming because of the level of extreme cold that pierced the entire area. His chances of paying the wedding ring in time were like the dying fire. The Etorri’s were going to chop him soon enough. It had been nothing but a terrific idea to go and ask help from the mafia. The $40,000 was due on the 28th of September. His expected earnings from the ski lodge were of $62,325; but, with winter at its worst Tom knew he was doomed. He had lost all, hope, the feeling of freedom, but love remained. It was the only thing that made him keep moving on.

Janice and Tom had been high school sweethearts and besides one or two big fights in their moment, Tom loved Janice and he wanted her to be mother to his children. Tom had the little content, that if we was slaughtered and tortured, it would at least be after marrying the women he had loved all of his life.

On the morning of the day before, only five people had arrived out of the expected 24. It was a catastrophe, but Tom would make sure to give the best service and get tipped the best he could. If he 70

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could not gather enough money, he would ask to another Mafia, there had to be something he could do.

The Regular scent of smoked oak and cinnamon was mixed with the aroma of cheap cigarettes that Jonathan Ash had. He had brought his dying mother on a final trip, and had washed all of his money to make this happen. He was a peculiar man and he did not utter a word in entire trip. Not even while he lay agonizing in the cold. His ill mother, a Russian woman that already looked dead had the small contentment of dying by her son. She had been under the involuntary consumption of LSD and Bath Salts, and she, if fully alive, would remember the story very differently than Jonathan would.

In the living room beside him stood Damian, and Michael ready and eager for a ski trip they wouldn’t forget. To the left of Michael stood a man few had the luck if needed to meet him. He was addressed as Bones, it was pronounced “Bons” due to his German and Russian ancestry, and anyone who would see it fit to call him something other than Bones would see himself dead.

Bones was a specialist; without any effort at all he could dispose a body within 5 minutes, and there be no trace ever of the incident. He was the best, and Damian, he needed the best. For what Damian was about to do no one knew, because one can never know for sure.

All the people in the trip unpacked, just chilled, and got to know each other on the first day. Bones camped in the Alaskan forest and was never in contact with anyone until their very end.

All of the people in the trip arrived at the breakfast hall at 7:00 AM, and after eating a great breakfast, they all headed for the ski lodge and started skiing the day off. Jonathan Ash and his Russian mom headed for the beginner level mountains. Even though it was not paid for him to murder them they were Damian’s first target. Damian did not intend for evidence to be leaked out. He wanted a messy death with no trace for all the skiers in the trip.

Jonathan Ash and his mother were skiing down a gentle slope when Damian approached them from behind. Damian had carefully placed a drug in Jonathan’s drink that immobilized him, in any second he would fall unconscious to the floor. When he did, the old lady was no problem for him, and soon she was in a similar more ravishing state of mind than he was. Jonathan was completely unconscious and his mother lay in a state of semiconsciousness while imagining dragons and flying hippos. She was in a perfect psychedelic fantasy and her son appeared to be sleeping.

Unaware that her son was already dead, she uttered.

“Wake up Johnny, come here and have some tea with me and Mr. Flying elephant” Then she was dead.

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While she did, she was not aware that Jonathan was already dead, and she could only see his body and in her dream world his blood was lavender that gracefully covered an entire field.

Damian took pleasure in his act for a bit, It was long since he had gotten to do this.

Then he washed his hands with care and took his phone out of his pocket. He called Bones.

Soon enough Bones was at the scene. He meticulously examined the body, stated a price and the time he would take to complete the job. Damian checked his watch, it was 8:05 and he could still catch a drink before moving on to his next victim. He also wanted to leave the area, he spit into the ground and before he left it had already frozen.

Damian lay in his bed. He stared at the ceiling for a bit gathering his thoughts and thinking of how easily and how smoothly the murder had gone. He used a towel to examine the other Icicles that were kept in a blue Coca Cola Cooler he owned. They were so detailed, so lethal and so silent and beautiful. To him it was beauty in its utmost state of purity.

He lay down to one side of the bed, had a drink of the hotel’s minibar scotch and entered darkness.

When he awoke, he looked at the time. It was 9:42 and Bones had probably already finished the job. Damian took the cooler and casually strolled to the medium level Skiing Mountain. On the way to the medium level mountain he could see three policemen from the village far away checking out the area where the he had murdered Jonathan and his mother. He wondered if Bones was not able to finish the job. This did not matter to him as he was focused on his own job. When he reached the top of the mountain he found bones bleeding by a rock.

“The Police, they found me getting rid of the body, they shot me in my leg; however, both of them are taken care of.”

With a sinister grin Damian asked; “Did you finish disposing the body?”

“Yes.” Damian smiled; he took one of the Icicles in the cooler, closed the freezer and stabbed Bones in the intestines.

As Bones bled to death in the boreal cold he only stared at Damian, with a cynical grin. This did not confuse or disturb Damian as he was too immerse enjoying the death of this man to actually pay attention. Bones managed a laugh, he knew someday all pay. Damian would pay for this. Damian held his gloved hands for a moment in the icicle and then removed it.

He buried the body with no effort whatsoever but with great skill as he knew no one would check the inside of a mountain in the remote areas of Alaska. He skied down the hill with class and grace but crashed once or twice for the pleasure of the pain.

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rock the size of a hippo and was hanging five feet from the ground. This gave Damian some adrenaline, his victim was trapped. Michael looked at Damian.

“Thank God” he said.

Damian carefully took out his Icicle and closed the freezer. This was starting to be great day for him.

“No, stop, I’ll double your money!” Michael uttered.

He was already dead.

Damian could not possibly care less. He stabbed Michael multiple times around the neck before he died from the chest wound inflicted before by that same Icicle. He left the body there hanging from the rocks. He knew the snow would cover it soon enough.

The Advanced level mountain was walking distance away from where he was right now. So he decided to walk. When he arrived at the bottom of the mountain he hid behind a bush and saw Tom trying to pull off some tricks only the best in the world can do. He looked at his watch; the time was covered by a layer of ice.

Tom cramped as he rose up the ramp. He landed near the edge of the forest and a tree stopped him. Damian walked serenely with power and rage to where Tom had landed.

He had broken a leg and was agonizing in pain. Damian could spot his Fibula popping out of his leg. He had the last Icicle in his hand, he approached Tom and soon Tom in his pain realized that his day was not getting any better, a tear of blood slipped from his left eye and into the neck finally falling on the ever so white layer of ice that lay beneath him. Damian moved the Icicle over his head and plunged it down on Tom’s neck like a guillotine.

He Screamed with Adrenaline and Anger “Die! Die! Die!”

He stood still, alone, in the middle of the forest. The raw boreal coldness wouldn’t allow him to move his hands. The moment seemed timeless. His gloved hands stuck to the icicle that had been used for the murder. It pleased him, it gave him joy and energy. He knew he had to disappear. He pushed the body over the cliff and never had to see his face again.

Damian heard the sound of the police sirens. The news that of the death of two policemen had already reached the village and all of the police in the area had already started searching.

Damian ran. He did not stop. He ran until his feet bled and he kept running.

He was proud and Glorious he had achieved greatness and this was just the beginning of his scheme. He hid in a little cave beside the mountain for five days and nothing was ever heard from him again. Until now.

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Ernesto Reyes - 12th Grade

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HW Inglorious Bastards questions until P. 38 Mariana Mosquera - War Literature - Grade 11

1. In Tarantino’s most recent film, Inglorious Bastards, we encounter three main characters.

The first one we get familiar with is the Nazi Colonel Hans Landa. Without his S.S uniform Colonel Landa would come off as a kind middle aged man, with a benevolent smile and great charisma. However, people are more than their looks, and he has the unofficial tittle of “The Jew Hunter”, which gives a whole new side to the story. In fact Colonel Hans Landa uses his charms to manipulate people, usually his victims, with sweet talking and sarcastic smiles. All these are traits that make him even more repulsive and intimidating. In the eyes of a Nazi he is a fine educated man that has no pity for the ‘inferior’ race. When he talks he can deliver both of his personalities, he talks like a well-educated person with a genuine interest in who he is speaking to, but this is just an act to gather information to then threaten his sufferers.

Everything he does has a vindictive purpose. He is perfect for his job.

Second, there is Lieutenant Aldo Reine, who has tough outside appearance and is kind of the Robin Hood of the mountain picture. He defends the Jews and, even though the viewer is not certain, he is Jewish himself. He is sassy and outspoken, and willing to get his hands dirty to accomplish justice. He is the leader of the band and has a really strong personality. A peculiar “Good Guy” in the story.

Finally we have Tarantino’s classic femme fatale. Shoshanna Dreyfus is apparently, until now, extremely brave and believes in the values of her life. Running away from the “Jew Hunter” will be her greatest accomplishment and the grandest demonstration of courage in her lifetime.

2. Tarantino clearly has his own style as a director and he naturally has an abnormal way to write screen plays. As soon as you begin reading this screenplay you can almost perfectly picture the film in your mind. He gives intricate details and direct instructions to the producers.

He even adds most of the dialogue so that the actors and filmmakers know exactly what tone needs to be set for each scene. Something that stood out to me was that both the actual movie and the screenplay were divided into chapters. This actually makes it easier to read and understand since there are various stories and points of view seen into the story. So I think that was a smart movie. Reading a screenplay is something new to me but I think it is a great idea, you really get the essence of the production and it almost gives a feeling of being back stage. There are not very many camera instructions but I think this is something he has clearly visualized in his mind and can say on set, especially because this screenplay was something that was for sale, maybe the one the crew used did have more lighting and camera instructions. He maybe also did it to leave some room for improvisation. Tarantino knows what he’s doing and this screenplay is a clear demonstration of that.

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¿Qué quieres hacer antes de morir?

Nanda Elenbaas - Spanish as a New Language - Grade 11

Si alguien te preguntara, “¿Qué quieres hacer antes de morir?”, ¿sabrías la respuesta? Hay un montón de gente que no sabe y se toman mucho tiempo en responder. Pero hay muchas cosas que podrías hacer si fuera el último día de tu vida. No importa lo que escojas porque es para ti y para nadie más. Claro, algunos tienen las respuestas obvias como pasar tiempo con su familia o en su casa, pero ¿por qué no escoger algo interesante para hacer con ellos?.

Este día está dedicado a ti, entonces tú puedes elegir lo que quieras hacer sin importar lo que el resto del mundo piense. Es tú último momento para ser creativo.

Yo voy a hacer paracaidismo. Me parece absolutamente increíble y un subidón de adrenalina. Tienes que sentirte vivo, y esto me va a dar ese sentimiento. ¿Qué quieres hacer tú antes de morir?

Manuella Escorcia - 12th Grade

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Manuella Escorcia - 12th Grade

Salomón Levy - 11th Grade

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My Application letter for Chinese Confucius Institute Scholarships Alejandra Angel - Chinese

To whom it may concern, I am writing this letter because I believe in opportunities. I believe in opportunities that develop individual’s growth and expand their own personal beliefs and knowledge. Let me allow me to express a few things about myself and the decision I’ve taken at this point in my life. My name is Alejandra Angel and I was born in Bogota, Colombia where I have lived all my life. I am an open-minded and friendly person who is interested in international aspects and intercultural relations. If I were to choose one word to describe myself, it would have to be independent. I’ve seen in myself the ability to depend on my own way of seeing life and how I have been committed to pursue the goals I establish to myself.

I acknowledge the fact that most learning takes place outside the classroom. From being a responsible and dedicated student, outside school I learned that the ability to render social work is a gift. I started to happily dedicate my free time including weekends and vacations to people who live unsatisfied and curious about how the world has developed physically and most important, morally. I grew up realizing how there are committed groups or individuals championing the needs of this marginalized sector in my country and realized how young people should start having more conscious about reality. It’s been completely a challenge I proposed to myself that little by little has been accomplished.

Being a privileged Colombian I have fed my heart with smiles and signs of gratitude people I’ve worked with have given me through time.

During my 18 years of life, I have developed a leadership character that has continuously grown as I transcend to the real world. Being in school, I have worked with the Student Council being the voice for the rest of the students and I have been part of the Ambassadors group which demonstrates the accomplishment of high expectations the school has had over me. I’ve met all kinds of people and I have been called a socially flexible person on behalf of my facility to interact with everyone.

Last year as I started to fill in my interests for my senior schedule, I found as an option Mandarin. Without thinking it twice I choose it and started classes on August 2011. After nearly 10 months, in which my family supported this decision, I’ve realized that Mandarin is not only the language. It has opened a new world to me and has completely dominated my future plans. Both my parents brought millions of stories from their trip to China and since then the interest has been on top of me. The interest also grew as it would suddenly become the next world language pursuing a professional development in me for the future. I believe that the opportunity I have ahead of me could feed the person I am, not only with a new language, but with a new culture, people and a lot of surprises your country will offer me.

As a dreamer, when approaching graduation, I only think on one thing. I think on expanding my knowledge into this culture so that when I’m done with it I can become a great business person focused on the social life in my country and its relationship with the world.

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In the future I see myself as an integral person focused on social work and business. Based on Chinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s cultural and economic view, an internal growth in me would completely be provided by this greatly developed country. In addition of being the second largest country in land area, I have created a view on it which includes one word: WEALTH. By this I mean that your country expands every day as no other country does. Its development influences the whole world making it the perfect model to follow. It is the great admiration I hear now a day, and my curiosity and intrigue of this Confucianism influenced country grows daily.

The culture and its diversity also make part of my personal meaning of what China is, since the culture exchange provided by people like me, would entirely feed not only your country, but my country and culture as well. I consider myself a young missioner wanting to follow this dream I have; I want to be the change that the future will bring up next. Having a 180 degree twist in my life will automatically contribute to millions of young dreamers who may be afraid of being the adventurous person I am. Most important, being the contrast and the voice of those who donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have in front of them this great opportunity I have. With the great significance of this cultural exchange, I want to start building a great meaning of what this experience would be and later on continue building on it, with other young dreamers pursuing their dreams. With this said, I would like to welcome the opportunity to discuss my suitability for this interesting experience, and as I said before... Be the change.

Mina Drezner - 12th Grade

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北京交通大学2012孔子学院奖学金申请信 Alejandra Angel - Chinese

尊敬的北京交通大学孔子学院奖学金评定委员会委员：您们好！ 现在我拿起笔写这封申请信是因为我觉得这将是改变我人生的最佳机会。我深信 这个机会必将深深地改变我的个人的成长，包括我的个人经历、信仰和知识积累。请允 许我在这里向你们介绍我在高中毕业这个时刻做出申请奖学金去中国学习的决定的几个 原因，以便你们决定我是否可以获得这个难得的机会。我叫 Alejandra Angel ，我出生 在哥伦比亚的首都波哥大，我一直生活在这里，我觉得自己是一个很开放友好的人，因 为我一直在孔子课堂所在的美国国际学校读书，所以我有来自世界各地的同学会朋友， 这养成了我对国际文化和交往和国际关系的兴趣。 如果让我选择一个词汇来描述我自 己，我将选择“独立”，我自己已经看到我的判断事物、选择生活、设定和实现人生目 标的独立的思考能力。 我知道人生的大部分知识和能力是从课堂以外学到的。我很多的周末是做志愿 者度过的，这些工作是我人生中的一个大的礼物。我接触了很多对生活不满意对世界充 满悲观的人，那个时候我意识到，发展体能和心理素质是多么重要。我渐渐意识到我很 愿意致力于在哥伦比亚关注边缘群体的需求，也意识到让年轻人意识到关注现实，改变 现实的重要对于这个国家多么重要。我想这将是我致力于的事业，我将一步一步去实现 它。用我学到的微笑和感激。慢慢来改变！ 在我18年的生命中，我发展了我的可以带到这个现实世界中的领导能力，在学校 的时候我市学生会的一员代表其他学生发出声音，学校和老师同学们对我寄予了厚望， 大家选我做了学校的形象大使，通过各种活动认识各种不同的人，以给种不同的方式介 绍我的学校，因为我在工作中很强的应变能力和灵活性，我被大家称为“社交精英”。 去年在我的高三选课表上，我看到了汉语课，没有丝毫的犹豫我便选择了汉 语课，并从2011年8月开始学习汉语。10个月后的今天，我们全家都支持我的选择，他 们觉得我自己又做了一个很正确的决定。我强烈地意识到汉语对于我来说绝不仅是一门 语言课程，更是为我打开了一扇通往世界的大门。这将对我的未来人生方向起到一个决 定性的作用。我的父母在这一年中给我讲了很多他们在中国的故事，还有很多很多文化 和风土人情，这让我更加坚定了我的决定。而让我绝不再想跟该这个决定的最重要的 一点还是中国越来越在世界舞台上板鸭更重要的角色，尤其对于哥伦比亚和中国的贸易 中，2010年中国一下跃居哥伦比亚第二大贸易合作伙伴，汉语也越来越重要，所以您就 会知道这个奖学金的机会对于我这个18岁的刚刚开始真正的人生第一步的女孩来说是多 么的重要。我深知她讲给我提供的不只是一个学习语言的机会，更是深入体验中国文 化接触了解中国人民的绝佳机会。中国是土地面积世界第二大的国家，这就意味着中国 蕴藏着巨大的财富。中国也是目前经济发展最快的国家，是世界经济的发动机，她神奇 地将世界经济从不景气带到慢慢复苏。在我即将高中毕业的此刻，其实我这个爱梦想的 女孩，只有一个梦想就是去中国学习汉语！如果能有幸得到这个机会，我一定会好好学 习，多多参与和体验，并一定把所学的东西带回我的国家，帮助我的国家建立和中国甚 至世界的良好联系。

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未来的我的梦想是在商业和社会工作领域做一名，尤其是专注于中国的文化 和经济发展视野。您的国家做出了没有另外任何一个国家可以做出的巨大成就，不只是 发展自己国家的经济，还有对世界的贡献，中国的发展为世界提供了一个美好的范例而 且我深在南美洲都能强烈的感觉到孔子思想对这个世界的影响。而我坚信如果我能获得 这个奖学金，长生影响的将不只是我一个人，我的一个家庭，甚至将是我的国家和我的 文化。我把自己看作是哥伦比亚年轻人的一个代表，我要代表哥伦比亚获得中国的奖学 金去中国学习，这对我和哥伦比亚的年轻人都将是一个很大的荣誉。我要给我的生活和 哥伦比亚的生活从中国带回来改变。我获得奖学金到中国学习而不是去美国学习，将会 对很多有梦想但不敢冒险的还没看到未来的年轻人一个很好的示范，让他们看清楚机会 到底在世界的那一端。我真希望您们考虑我的申请，给我这个机会，我肯定会从这个有 意义的文化交流和学习中收获最多，从这个最有意义的体验中回来后，并还将持续的学 习汉语和中国文化，汉语说，说到做到，所以我会做到我说的。我现在只是用好好的学 习汉语来准备获得这个奖学金去中国学习，去迎接我的人生的改变和我对未来世界的改 变。 奖学金申请人 个人签字 申请日期：2012年4月25日

Valentina Luna - 12th Grade

Pablo Ospina - 11th Grade IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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Letter Camila Silva - Grade 9

September 17, 1532 Dear Charles V, I, Bartolomeu de las Casas, am writing to you, the king of Spain, to talk to you once again about the mistreatment the indigenous and Africans are receiving from the Spaniards. I know I originally came to the new world to use indigenous and Africans to work the land, but now I regret this decision. The purpose of this letter is to convince you to change the treatment of these people in the Spanish colonies.

First, I will talk to you about the indigenous people. I have noticed that these people are being massacred by the Spanish. More than 20,000 indigenous were killed in villages all over the place (doc 11). I also heard the indigenous were actually killing themselves using poison, just to not have to be tortured by the Spaniard (doc 11). Besides all of this, the indigenous people are dying because of all the diseases the Europeans brought to the land (seminar). I am telling you all of this to show you how bad the indigenous are being treated, and why it should stop.

Now, I will talk to you about the slaves brought from Africa to America. These people are a lot more resistant to work than the indigenous, but the way they are being treated is unacceptable, they live miserable lives working in mines, fields, or as domestic servants (doc 12). The Africans work long days and after that they get very little food and they also get beaten up (doc 12). I have also noticed, they are losing their culture and it is hard for them to adapt to ours, the Spanish, culture (doc 12). Also during the voyage from Africa to America, the Africans travel in bad conditions: they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have space to do anything, they get bad quality food, and they have nowhere to go when they need to use the bathroom (roots). All of this is to tell you that it is very important to change the way the Africans are being treated because they are suffering a lot.

I hope now you understand the importance of this situation. Because of all of these reasons and more is why you should stop the mistreatment of both indigenous people and Africans in the Spanish colonies in America.

Sincerely, Bartolomeu de las Casas.

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Letter Anonymous - Grade 9

September 20th, 1496 Dear Ana, This is your fiancé Cristiano. I am in the port where explorer Vasco Da Gama’s fleet will set sail in a few months. It’s been nearly five months since I left Lisbon to come plan with Da Gama and his crew; and believe me, you’ll be glad I came because when I return, we will be very rich and you will get the life style that you deserve.

I know you wanted me to stay with you in Lisbon, get married and have kids, but my job as soldier will not get us anywhere, and you will not be able to live the way a fine lady deserves.

When I return, I promise I will come back at least sixty times richer than we were before (Doc 3). The riches in India will make US rich, not only our family but all of Portugal (Doc 3). And after Bastolomeu Dias’ voyage to the tip of Africa (Doc 2) and this one that will get to India, those filthy Indians will have to pay Portugal money to trade (Doc 2). Believe me, when I return, we will be wealthy, and we will live in the way we deserve.

You might also be scared of the dangers we may face, being only the second Europeans attempting to reach India by sea. (Doc 2 &3) But sweetheart, there is nothing to be afraid of. Portuguese explorer, the one at Bartolomeu Dias was the first European to round Africa and get to the southern tip on 1488 (Doc 2). He was planning to go to India but a storm stopped him (Doc 2). If it wouldn’t have been for that storm, he would’ve reached India!

(Doc 2) Think of it this way: now we know some of his mistakes and with even more sailing innovations lead by Great Prince Henry of Portugal. We will reach India with no trouble and return safe and sound. (Doc 2). Even if Spaniard Christopher Columbus made it on 1492 (Doc 2) why wouldn’t the more technological Portuguese?

You see honey; there is nothing bad about me helping Vasco Da Gama. We will be richer and get a decent life style, our country will be richer and be the best one in the world, and also, there are virtually no Langers! I will see you, and I’ll be covered in gold and in gifts for you.

Truly Yours, Cristiano Ronaldo, Your beloved fiancé.

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Natalia Flores - 11th Grade

SofĂ­a Parales - 12th Grade

Sofia Parales - 12th Grade

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M Memoirs

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Transitions Daniela Caro - AP Language and Composition - Grade 11

When I was a child, my worst fear was change. Whenever the school year was over, thinking about having a new teacher would make me extremely nervous, having my friends being moved to new classes made me anxious; imagine my reaction when my parents gave me some unexpected news.

“We are moving to the United States,” they said, “Miami, isn’t that cool?”

I simply stared at them. At the time I did not understand the great opportunity it was to move to the US, the only thing on my mind was “No mom, it is not cool and I do not want to go!”

As I sat there, giving my parents no response and not showing any emotion at all, both adults worriedly looked at each other. A few minutes later, with my voice breaking and tears in my eyes, I said “But mom, dad, I don’t want to go to the US! I want to stay here, in my school, where I already have friends!”

I was never a social butterfly and could actually be classified as the opposite: a shy, reserved and introverted girl. Because of these attributes, making friends was not my strength.

I was definitely not a loner, having a big group of friends, but I didn’t feel comfortable with anyone who was not a part of them. My biggest fear was not making any, and mixed with the horrible idea of a completely unknown future, I was terrified. The fact that I did not speak a single word of English had no effect on me whatsoever.

I was later on, insensibly yelled at for my response. “You are in first grade Daniela!

You will quickly adapt and make new friends, it is a reality and there is nothing you can do about it.” If she only knew what the first few weeks were like, she would not have said that.

With the useful mentality of ‘don’t think about the problem and it will go away’, I decided to not bring up the topic of the move. I did not mention it to my friends, ignored the questions flooding my mind and simply disregarded the fact that I was moving. It was not long before I realized how poorly it was working.

I then tried the ‘change their minds mission’. Whenever I found a detail that could go wrong I would bring it up. “My brother and I are in the middle of the school year, we can’t just leave” or “Aren’t you going to miss your family?” were a few of the arguments I mentioned regularly. Being answered with disregard, I noticed this wasn’t a very good technique either. I soon came to the conclusion that I had to accept it: we were going to move.

“Hey dad, when exactly are we moving?”

“In four months”

“So I am starting school in the middle of the year, without knowing a word of English?”

I walked right into that one, didn’t I?

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I was signed up for English lessons; I had to learn a new language in four months,

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great. Every Tuesday and Thursday a teacher would come home for an hour and a half, it was absolutely dreadful. I remember Mario, the teacher. A monotone voice, his horrible breath and boring activities added with my hate for the language made the lessons tortuous. I simply could not get my head around the fact that there is no “ñ” in the alphabet. I begged my father to let me quit the class.

“Daddy he talks about himself all the time! And he is not a good teacher; I don’t even know how to speak a word of English yet. Could you, pretty please, let me not go back?”

Being honest, this was a lie. I knew the alphabet, numbers and a few basic words but I simply did not want to go back. Because of my constant whining, my dad changed my teacher. Her name was Paula; she was young and helped me a lot more with the new language. By the end of the four months, three of which I spent with Paula, my English improved greatly. I was not completely fluent but I understood most of what was spoken to me and I could roughly answer. Yet, I was definitely not ready for the move.

My parents left a month prior before I did. I took a test for school and passed, but they did not want to make me move and have nothing organized in Miami. I spent the month with my grandmother, which in the end, made the move harder. She spoiled me for a straight month, we did everything together and, although we were extremely close before, she became one of the most important people in my life, and I soon had to leave her behind.

Meanwhile, my parents set up the apartment, made sure the school was all set for when I got there, and simply settling in.

Due to my grandmother’s fear of planes, it was my grandfather who came with me to Miami. At the time, I could not think of a more nerve-wracking experience than that.

The whole plane ride consisted of me either burdening my grandfather with ‘what if’s’ and questions, I pity him, stuck for four hours on a plane with me.

My parents were at the airport waiting for our arrival. Seeing them there made me less nervous, I missed them greatly. We arrived to the apartment, located in Key Biscayne, a small island near Miami’s downtown. The apartment was on the beach, had pools and huge parks, a drastic change compared with Bogota’s cold weather and tight spaces everywhere; I started liking this place. I made my parents decorate my room, all in pink and ‘Hello-Kitty’, not a very good decision on my part reflecting on it now.

I arrived a week before I was going to start school. I got to know the island I lived on, created a routine, and got used to the fact that this was the place that I would live in for at least a few years. The dreaded first day of school arrived too soon for my liking.

I got to school, which was a few blocks down my house, and the counselor gave me a tour of the premises. She showed me each building and explained how my classes would work: I would take all of the normal classes along with my classmates except English, IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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in which I would work separately with a kind of tutor. If I had any doubts, the teacher’s assistant knew Spanish and would help me.

We reached the classroom and I wondered if the counselor could hear my heart beating from where she was standing. She opened the door and as everyone turned to look at us, I could feel my cheeks warm up and could only imagine the scarlet color they were taking. I was introduced to the class and the counselor told me my teacher’s name, with that, she left and I took the seat Ms. Debbie had just assigned me.

The girl sitting next to me was Estrella. After briefly introducing myself and getting over the shyness, I dared to ask her if she knew Spanish; she did. I felt the relief going through my body as I started conversing with her in our native language. To my dismay, we were both yelled at by the teacher because it was completely prohibited to speak any other language other than English. Not daring to break the rules, I simply stopped talking to Estrella, since I was still uncomfortable speaking in English. Class was not as horrible as I thought it would be, since everyone was engaged with what was being taught and I was not forced to participate. Recess was an entirely different story.

Everyone was already a part of his or her set group of friends, so they would not really pay attention to ‘the new girl’. I sat there, eating my snack and simply watching the other kids play. The teacher then approached me and told me to go and play with my new classmates. Seeing the horrified look upon my face, she took me to the nearest group of girls and asked them to introduce themselves and include me in their games.

I soon realized that almost every kid in my class was Latin. There were Peruvians, Colombians, Venezuelans and people form all Latin and South America. Sofia was the first girl to introduce herself and ask me to play with them. They would take turns and push each other in some cars around the playground. For every 4 laps I gave her, she would give me one and be ‘too tired to continue’. It was evident how she was lying but since I had nowhere else to be, I spent my first week of recesses pushing Sofia around the playground.

By the second week, I decided to give up on playing with Sofia and her friends. I therefore sat by the monkey bars and saw a bossy girl give the others instructions on how to correctly do gymnastics on the jungle gym. I found the girl extremely annoying but it was amusing to watch all of the girls do what they were told and do stunts on the monkey bars. I spent a few weeks passing my recess, sometimes alone and sometimes with Estrella, simply watching girls do gymnastics. We were sometimes invited to participate in the game, but doing what a random girl told you did not seem much fun. They named us the ghosts of the monkey bars, a thing I did not find out about until a couple of years later.

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It was now December break and my parents chosen to stay in Key Biscayne. My IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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mom enrolled me in art classes so I had something to do and would make more friends; she was beginning to worry of the lack thereof. After about a week of art lessons, I became friends with a girl named Mariana. We became really good friends and when Christmas vacation was ending, we thought we would never see each other again… but how wrong we were.

The last day of the art classes was dedicated to exhibit our masterpieces to our parents. Mariana and I were sitting together and our mothers started talking, we found out that we not only went to the same school, but we were in the same grade; how we did not figure it out on our own is still a mystery. With this new information, we planned to meet by the slide in recess so we could be friends at school too.

The first day back to school came and I remembered my appointment with my new friend. When we met, we did not notice the weird looks our classmates were giving us and simply played on the jungle gym. How the topic of our previous recesses came up, I do not know, but it eventually did.

“So where did you spend your recess before we were friends?” I asked her “I don’t think I ever saw you.”

“Oh I played being teacher on the monkey bars, how about you?”

“I sat by the monkey bars with Estrella and saw the girls play” We had both clearly realized how to me, she was the bossy girl who told her friends what to do all the time and I was the weird girl who sat by the margins watching everything. If someone told me before my art class that it was that girl who I would have become best friends with, I would never have believed them.

Mariana and I never brought up our past recesses again. We were inseparable for the remainder of the school year, although we did not even have class together. During the summer, she went to Mexico and I went to Colombia, we did not speak for 2 months but when we got back, we found out we were in the same class for second grade.

Just like the previous year, we could not be separated. She would boss everyone around, only liking things to go her way, and I was the only one who would stand up to her.

Likewise, she pushed me to become more outgoing and leave my shyness behind, something no one, except her, ever managed to do. We never understood when the grownups would say that we complimented each other, something I clearly notice today.

I moved back to Colombia for 3rd grade. Just like 2 years prior, I did not want to move. When I came back to my native country, I did not go back to my old school but went to an American School; I had to start all over again… again. The difference was that this time, I was not as shy and timid. I made friends easily but I missed Mariana. We often emailed one another and tried to keep in touch but it just was not the same.

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Starting over in Colombia proved to be a great deal easier than the last time I moved, but it wasn’t, by any means, fun. Nobody likes being the new girl all over again, but at least now, I had a bit of experience. The first couple of weeks were pretty tough, but I managed to become friends with some girls from my class. At first, I did not notice anything was wrong with them. They were simply my new Colombian friends. However, after about the first month, I realized that the leader of our group was more of a bully than a friend. She bossed all of us around. At first everyone listened, but as time went by, we all started getting fed up.

As a result of my newly found confidence, I was one of the first to confront this girl and tell her I did not agree with what she was doing and how she was using her power to influence us in such negative ways. Several of the other girls in my class soon followed my lead and I found myself surrounded by new friends, some of whom are still my closest friends today.

I started getting used to my new lifestyle, and even though I still missed things from my old home in Key Biscayne, I kept in touch with some of my good friends and I got to see them whenever I went to visit over the summer. When I was with them, it was almost as if time had not passed and everything was the same as before. Even though we all had our separate lives now, whenever we got together, we were still the same old friends that met at a very young age and practically grown up together. One day, while I was Skyping with Mariana, my mother walked into the room with tears in her eyes and a pain-stricken expression. I immediately knew something happened, so I hastily gave some excuse to my best friend and hung up. My mom sat on my bed and I could see she was trying to be strong, but as soon as I asked her what was wrong, the moisture in her eyes started to overflow and tears rolled down her cheeks.

I stood from my chair and took a seat next to her, trying in vain to console her.

“What happened mom? Is everything ok?” I asked again. She started to shake her head slowly and muttered “It’s your grandma... she passed away a couple of hours ago...” Her voice broke. The hand that had rubbed comforting circles around her back constantly suddenly stopped and went limp. For a second I could not think, I could not move, I could not breathe.

“No, it must have been a mistake, she’s fine, she can’t be...” Dead. My grandma was dead. I could not believe it. I refused to.

I sat in silence for what I assume were a couple of minutes, but it felt like no time at all. I was supposed to be crying, throwing a fit or drowning in a pit of despair, yet there I was, sitting completely motionless next to my mother, unable to feel anything except confusion and numbness. Why aren’t you crying? I remember asking myself. I feared that my mother would think that I did not care about my Nonna, because I did. She was one of the most important people in my life and her loss came as a great and unexpected blow but everyone reacts in different ways to pain, and this was my body’s way of dealing with the startling news.

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I do not remember her funeral. My parents tell me I was there, but after trying hard to think about it, I do not remember a single detail. I remember the moments afterwards, when all of my closest family members - parents, siblings, uncles and cousins - were sitting in her living room crying. Up until that day, I had never seen my father cry, I still remember him doing so right then. After that day, I constantly thought about my grandmother. While I ate I remembered her amazing Italian cooking, as I drove around town I remembered the times I spent with her in different places. I continuously thought about her and I was sad each time I did so.

I remember the time I started thinking about the insignificance of most of our problems and the big deal we make of them. I was moving to the United States, it is not a big deal. Yes, I left my school, family, and friends, but I made new ones and the experience changed my life. This taught me to worry about real problems. My grandmother had just died, and I made me think differently, gave me a new perspective.

Mariana played a huge role in helping me get over my grandmotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s death, since she was the first person I told the news to. She talked to me about my grandmother, told me about her own experiences with family deaths, and simply helped me get through it.

She and my close family were my rock. They supported me through one of the roughest parts of my life, and eased the pain by simply being there whenever I needed them. I can still recall something Mariana said to me, â&#x20AC;&#x153;The past is already gone, and you need to focus on the present and future, enjoy them and appreciate everything you have cause it can be gone in the blink of an eye.â&#x20AC;?

I decided to enjoy everything, as much as I could. In fourth grade, I made a lot of new friends, spent time with my family, focused on school, and tried to appreciate every single moment in my life. Of course, there were moments in which I would fight with my friends or become sad, but thinking about how lucky I am, made me analyze these small problems and allowed me to solve them.

Christina, a girl in my fourth grade class was a victim of bullying. She had both physical and mental problems, but due to the fact that they were not obvious, she was constantly teased and made fun of by our classmates, my new friends included. I did not want to fight them, so I said nothing about it. The poor girl was a victim of laughter from the moment she walked into the classroom until she left eight hours later, yet I did not stand up for her because I did not want to lose my friends.

A couple of months passed until I realized that I was being a horrible person. No, I did not participate in any of the bullying, but I had never tried to stop it either. I do not know what compelled me to stand up to my friends, and make them stop, but something did. On one normal day of class with Ms. Moore, we were all running around the classroom, like we were not supposed to, when six or seven children surrounded Christina and started to bully

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her. Encircling her, they would point out how short she was and laugh, asked her to not get too close or they would catch the Christina-flu and would have to get vaccines in order to not get her loser-ness. Determined to stand up for what was right, I decided to confront all of my friends, the bullies.

“Hey, guys!” I said “Oh, look who’s decided to join us. You’ve finally done the right thing.” One of the girls said to me.

“Actually, I came to tell you all that you need to stop,” they all just stared at me.

“You are all bullying an innocent girl so leave her alone! She will not give you the ‘Christina flu’ or infect you with her weirdness, so stop with the magical vaccine thing. Also, stop laughing at her! She has done nothing wrong and you are all plainly being mean.“

Sure, some of them complained and said she was annoying. Christina was annoying, yet I explained how that was not a reason to treat someone as bad as they were treating her. If they did not like her, they should avoid her in order to prevent conflict. I also explained how, if they did not stop, Christina would probably tell the teacher and get them in huge amounts of trouble.

From that day on, no one would bully Christina, or at least do so when I was there. I now realize how, when I stood up to my friends, I was acting just like I did when Mariana became her bossy self. I would tell her to stop, think about what she was doing and then say something or act in a particular way, thinking about the consequences of her actions before acting upon them. If I had not become friends with her, Christina would have probably been bullied for the rest of fourth grade.

Reflecting on this situation, I realize now how much Mariana affected my actions towards my friends. Not only had I already stood up to her and continued being her friend, showing that disagreeing with someone will not ruin our relationship, but she had also recently called me. She moved back to Mexico for fourth grade and the kids in her new school were making fun of her and making her feel left out. This was how I noticed how much bullying could harm a person and their confidence. Although I did not notice it back then, I greatly helped a person because of my best friend.

Whenever I say my best friend lives in another country, I get weird looks. When I later on add that we have known each other for almost eleven years, I get comments of disbelief, but it is all absolutely true. When I reluctantly moved to the United States, I never imagined that I would meet at girl at an art class and she would change and impact my life forever. I do not know if it is normal that she is my most stable friend. While living in Colombia, I constantly fight with my friends and change them continuously, yet I cannot think of a moment in which I have ever fought with Mariana.

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myself but for others as well, and to be more outgoing and leave my shyness behind. The girl who I met when I was six, helped me through several of the roughest times in my life, and I know I can count on her for anything. Even though I see her once a year, we are always extremely close friends and it is like absolutely no time has passed since the time we had previously seen each other. We also value every minute we spend in each otherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s company, and make the most out of every situation in which we are together.

The situation I completely abhorred for a long time changed my life drastically.

Moving to the United States not only gave me a great opportunity but it gave me a friend for life. There is no doubt in my mind that my first grade friend will be a part of my life forever.

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Catalina Chaves - 11th Grade

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Desperation at the Summit Daniel Solano - AP Language and Composition - Grade 11

The Mile High City was the first thing I saw waking up from a long and sound sleep in my flight from Dallas. It was a very sunny day and the only thought on my parents’ mind was the one and only tour through the Vail peaks. The fact that it was the first time I would see the Rocky Mountains closely excited me. My father had shown them to me on some picture books. We arrived at the hotel and for some reason I was very energetic and wanted to know all the mountains immediately. Their height, their majesty, and their splendor marveled me as I looked out the room’s window. The tour was at 3 p.m. that day, so we rested a little, packed our backpacks, and headed out to meet the Rockies. The altitude of the natural landscape amazed me and all I kept doing was staring at the summit. High altitudes had never frightened me. On the contrary, they had always intrigued me and amazed me.

We were already on top of a mountain. This captivated me. So why did I see before me such tall mountains that made it seem as if I was in a valley? The wish came immediately to me: I wanted to get up there. I told my parents, “I want to go to the very top of the mountain.” They told me, “We cannot do that because it is too dangerous and we would not be able to reach the top.” Furious, throughout the entire tour I ignored everything the guide said, and, while my parents thought that I was only appreciating the magnificence of the mountain range, I was planning on how to fool my parents and get on my way to the top of the mountain. I was not this kind of person. Now that I think about it, that was probably the first time I was intentionally thinking of doing something wrong. Of course, I did not know it was wrong.

On the contrary, I thought it was the right thing to do. My parents had told me all my life to follow my dreams and that if I persisted and took initiative, they would become reality.

It was Peak 9, one of the highest peaks in the area. It was Peak 9: the place where I expected to have the time of my life. I saw that my parents and the guide where paying little attention to where I was and were too busy learning all the facts about the Rocky Mountains.

What use does it have to learn all those things about the range if you do not experience them?

This thought made me feel confident that the thing I needed to do was to experience those 11,000 feet of altitude. They accelerated their pace to able to see more of the sites. When they were about 5 meters ahead of me, I rushed to the side, toward where the path began its inclination. I believe no one saw me since I did not hear any shouts that told me to stop. Even at the age of five, I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my back and giving my legs more and more energy. Always keeping my head up, the summit seemed to be farther and farther away. I think about one hour had passed since I started running and I was nowhere.

I could barely see the base of the mountain where I had begun my journey and the rest was all dirt and trees. I began to feel lonely. The feeling of failure of not being able to reach the summit as I had wanted had taken over me.

Suddenly, I heard roaring and what I could figure was a huge crowd far away well ahead of where I was. The next thing I heard was the rumbling of motors of race motorcycles. My parents had been right! The USA Pro-Challenge motorcycle race was to be underway at that precise time. All my adrenaline turned into pure fear. Not knowing what to do, I hid behind some trees in the middle of the mountain, which was the only IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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thing I could find for protection. I did not know what I was finding protection against, but I perceived it was nothing good. When I figured that was useless, since a motorcycle could easily hit me if it went toward where I was, it was too late to do anything about it. If I moved, the risk of being hit was more. I clung unto that trunk as if it was the only thing that could save me from tragedy. I thought for a moment that it might simply be the roar of a helicopter passing by. However, I was mistaken. The motorcycles passed by very fast. In my entire 5 years of existence, I had never seen any object move that fast, even less with a human riding it. It was all a mystery to me. At first, I thought they were crazy people who had lost their mind. I could only see them as they jumped down a steep inclination.

That meant that they could only see me at that short distance too! When I turned around with my back against the trunk, I saw the person. This man was wearing and entirely blue uniform with a death skull painted in his helmet. The front of the motorcycle had the #2 sign and the name Jones. He came straight at where I was crouching.

I doubted of whether to run across the mountain, which would have been fatal, or stay where I was thinking was useless at that moment. Due to the fear and anxiety I was going through, I could not move because my body was immobilized. The only thing I remember was the red light, extremely bright due to the reflection of the sunâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s glare, shining in my eyes.

I felt the ground tremble as the motorcycle got nearer and nearer. The racer approached me and when he was 1 meter away from me, he made a sharp, edgy turn, which sprayed me with dirt, all throughout my body. The grip of the motorcycle slipped a little and the wheel almost hit me. Those 10 seconds it took the bicycle to get to where I was, seemed to me like 5 minutes. Although it was not as I had expected, that was certainly the time of my life.

As the motorcyclists passed by, I stayed behind the tree and hoped it was all a nightmare. I saw racers in all the different color uniforms I could imagine. Some had solid colors, others had rainbow jackets and others even had fancy boots. I was actually seeing a race first-hand inches away from the action, while all the other people had to watch it from a considerable distance away. However, I was not thinking about that. One of the things that marveled me was the acrobatic jumps the racers performed every time they leaped in the air due to a sharp inclination of the mountains or a mogul. I wondered why they did that. Was it not supposed to be better to rush to the finish line at the base of the mountain? Nevertheless, I guess those acrobatics are what make the show.

After the worst passed and the race went passed my locations, my worries changed.

Now, I had to figure out how to get back to where I was. I had no idea how I was going to do this. The mountain was huge! I could barely see the equipment-renting shacks at the bottom.

I began to wander the range on my own going across it. That was the worst thing, since I was getting farther and farther away from my starting place. However, at that moment it seemed easier, since going down looked too hard. Therefore, my decision was to walk. For some reason I did not feel lost. I was confident that walking would lead me to where I wanted to go, even though I had no idea where that was. I had passed three hours in the mountain.

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Nothing changed. It was like a slanted desert. Nothing to the left, nothing straight, nothing to the back, only spots to the right bottom where I could see some houses. Nothing was different from when I first saw it from the hotel window. This impressed me.

As the fourth hour in the range came to its conclusion, I resigned to sleep in the mountain that night. I had always wanted to be an adventurer and explore dangerous things.

However, once the moment actually came to sleep alone in an unknown, open area, I really did not want to do it. As a glazed at the horizon, I distinguished a red all-terrain vehicle in the distance. I think they saw me, since they made a sharp turn toward where I was. I thought that it was going to be another race, but this time with four-wheeled vehicles. In the vehicle, two tall men spoke quickly in English. They were in a hurry. For a moment, I thought they might be going to kidnap me. Since I could not understand them because I had not developed a great comprehension of the language at that age, I just stood still watching them wide-eyed.

They talked to each other in a way that I could only hear their whispers. They carried me into the quad and started the engine roared. We were going fast down that mountain. I thought the brakes were broken or something.

As we approached the bottom of the mountain, I began to recognize the backside of the hotel we were staying in. The ride was about half an hour going very fast. I was amazed at how much I had walked on my own without knowing. I liked going at such a great speed and especially down such a steep mountain. However, the feeling of being so uncomfortable and what seemed to be between two great walls was very unpleasant. When I got off the vehicle, my parents were talking to another tall man with the same red uniform as the other two who were with me. As I called their names, they turned around and their faces reflected happiness and relief. I had no idea how much they had suffered throughout those four hours I was lost

My parents had noticed I was missing just after I had started running, but instead of searching for me up the mountain, they thought I had gone into one of the stores or hotels along the path we were in. At first, they were not extremely scared, but when the guide told them that the problem was that there was the motorcycle race precisely at that peak and at that time. They almost had a nervous breakdown! They wanted to go personally and look for me in the mountain, but the security people did not let them. Therefore, they called the rescue team and initiated a search. Since it was only an assumption that I was in the mountain in that specific area, the rescuers could not stop the race. Therefore, it was all up to the searchers to find me before dark.

I had not even thought about my parents while I was up there. I thought they were going to be extremely angry when they saw me again. However, surprisingly to me, they were just happy to see I was fine. They had to fill in paperwork that took years to complete.

I saw my father flipping the pages as if he were skimming a book. According to my parents, the organization of the rescue service in Vail was awful. At first, they had said that the search

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would only commence after 6 hours of being lost. However, I was a five-year old and had no idea where I was going, so in those six hours, I could have easily walked my way to another town, where it would have been much more difficult to find me. Fortunately, my father insisted enough until they sent the last vehicle in search to find me. That one was the one I saw. Maybe the two men who had picked me up had not been so nice because they had been over two hours in search for me.

As soon as the formalities of the protocol finished, a doctor examined me because I seemed to have suffered some scrapes and was all full of dirt. I did not notice these details until I was lying in the doctor’s office. It was the adrenaline and the fear I had that made me not feel the pain from those injuries. I wondered if it would be like in the movies where a man would ask me all those questions such as, “Are you all right?” For the first part of the examination, the doctor was very silent while he was examining me. Nevertheless, then the questions came. It was a lot worse than I thought. The doctor asked me, “How are you feeling?” and while I was answering in my mixed-up English, he interrupted me and asked me the next question. This was somewhat frustrating since I thought that he was not paying attention to anything I was saying. My parents every now and then peeked in into the examining room to see how I was doing and asked me if I needed anything. He put some medicines in the scrapes I had in my knees and covered them with gauze. I could not move my leg very well with that gauze.

After this incident took place, my parents’ attitude toward my adventures in the mountains changed dramatically. Since then, I go every two years to ski in the same section of the range. It was not because of the experience that I go; it is because Colorado is the best skiing place in the United States. Its powder snow throughout winter makes skiing an incredible activity that most people enjoy. Every time, they are very careful in the pick-off and drop-off. The injured people that come down the ski mountain every day impressed me. Still, the rescuers do not rescue some people and they have to find their way along to an emergency shack where they can get treatment. The advertisements seen in the streets of the town and throughout the base of the mountain are simply false. There is no immediate response, there is no security, and there is no guaranteed safety. I came to this conclusion after I saw that the slogan of the mountain patrol said something like that. I never felt secure in the mountain and I cannot and did not want to imagine what would have happened if I would have needed to sleep in the middle of the mountain. As time went by, I began to grow resentment for that service, since they were literally lying to the people. Every time I passed by that shack, it was full of anxious people waiting to talk to one or maximum two staff members. That was definitely not immediate help.

When I finally got out of the doctor’s office, I went with my parents to the hotel room where I could see that their faces had turned into those of disgust. I told them everything that had happened all the way through. They frowned. Lastly, they understood. I received calls from everyone in my family, even people who I did not even recall knowing. The fact that the motorcycle race was an off-road motocross competition shocked me. Since the 100

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price was money, there was nothing in the world that could stop those racers from reaching the base of the mountain, not even myself in the way. They started telling everyone they knew what had what happened. At first, I enjoyed being the center of attention and have so many people talking about me at the same time. The only thing left to do was publish it in the newspaper. After a while, I grew bored of having the same questions asked to me and the same sermons of how I should not have done that. I know I should have stopped and thought about it better. However, the event was already in the past. It took a long time before everybody calmed down about the topic.

I had a dream about the incident that night. I had decided to run across the mountain when I heard the rumbling approaching. When I turned right, a motorcycle was two meters away from where I was. The driver tried to stop, but he was going too fast. The motorcycle hit me in the leg very hard. The pain was excruciating. I could not move my leg, which made me desperate. I thought I was going to die at that moment. As I tried to stand up, someone yelled â&#x20AC;&#x153;Lay down!â&#x20AC;? I obeyed. I could only look up and pray. I prayed so many times I cannot remember. The only thing I asked for was to get help as soon as possible and to come out of this accident safely. When the race was over, an emergency vehicle came to pick me up and took me to the hospital. I remember all the doctors, the nurses, and the beds lying around in the corridors. I had never really been to a hospital in such a critical situation. This fact shocked me. The yelling of the nurses did not help either. They made me feel that I was the person who had the most danger at this moment. My whole leg was full of blood and the doctorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s face was not very hopeful. I started crying and could not think straight. They said something about surgery. At that moment, I woke up. I was sweating in bed at 2 a.m.

I had been very lucky indeed. I had luckily chosen the better option of not crossing the mountain. Fear had saved me. I could not sleep the rest of the night and kept thinking about that moment. At times, I felt proud of myself, but soon after, I returned to the thought that it had all been a matter of luck.

That particular race interested me. My desire to know everything about it surprised my parents. I think they realized how annoying it is to talk about the same topic for so long. I hope.

After learning all the facts and the information, I had not yet received the piece of information I wanted the most. In what position did Jones come in? That intrigued me a lot. I hoped he came in last and earned as little money as possible. That was not the case. He came in second. At least it had not been first. The difference between him and the winner was about three seconds, which was probably the time he lost by making that unexpected curve when he saw me. That also amused me. I knew many other factors could have made him come second, but I was sure I was one of them. I do not know why I was so angry with Jones since I was the intruder in his designated path and I was the one who was not supposed to be there.

Two years later, I returned to the exact same spot where I had hidden behind the tree. I felt confused. How could I have survived that? I mean, it was two trees without any real protection that had saved me. It was winter. As I looked up the mountain, I saw skiers and IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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snowboarders gliding down the snow very fast. In my mind, they were all motorcycle racers.

Every time I saw a person completely dressed in blue, I remember Jones, that individual who had almost run over me. I was fascinated to remember those moments, but now, from a safe and analytic perspective. The people went past me. They all wanted to get down the hill as soon as possible, just like the racers. I felt like I was experiencing the same event. I did not feel fear. Why? It was the same situation. I was seven. Maybe that was it. The next thing I knew it was time for me to go back to the hotel. Those days I kept looking at the mountain, as if there was something special about it. We had gone to the same hotel, so that reminded me of everything. The hotel had not changed much. It looked as if during that time there were no maintenance or reparations made.

One of the posters in the hotel showed a picture of the town seen from the top of the mountain. It said that the best views of the towns nearby and of the range were abundant from the top of Peak 9, which was the highest peak. The same desire of going up to that summit overtook me. For an instant, I thought of doing it again. Maybe this time I could make it. However, this feeling only lasted a few minutes, since I reconsidered the idea and realized that I would never make it. Besides, this time it was not one race that was coming down the mountain. It was thousands and thousands of skiers and snowboarders who constantly were not fully paying attention to their way ahead. Being a rookie skier, as I was, was an imminent danger under those conditions. Besides, I saw a man who, instead of going around a fallen snowboarder, jumped on top of him and kept on going. He gave a loud scream of joy once he did his performance, as if he had just made the most amazing trick ever.

As I went for another ski session, this time with the Vail Ski School, we headed to another mountain. I thought it would me the exact same. However, it was not. We got on the chair lift through the exclusive express line for the Ski School and headed on up.

It was an amazing view I got in that chairlift. I could see the whole town from where I was. In addition, the trails formed by the tall pine trees made the slopes look defined and challenging. We got off and started skiing down a blue slope, which is an intermediate level. As we went downhill, I noticed that the snow had begun to get a little icy, but I did not mind that. Suddenly, my right ski caught a very icy section of the slope and I plummeted toward the snow. I rolled like a ball about seven meters downward and then stopped. I was face down. I could hear the sounds of the skis rushing past me. I looked upward, and saw the same of what I had seen two years ago. The snow was new. The people were new. However, the feeling was the same. I stood up on my skis and headed down the mountain as fast as I could to catch up with the group.

It was a strange feeling. Everything I saw reminded me of the incident. When I was walking down Main Street where all the shops are, I turned to the right and at that precise moment I was passing by the store in which I had bought the hiking boots I used the day I got lost in the mountain. What a coincidence! At first, it was scary when I thought of that memory, but then it became something that I was proud of. Not in the sense that I wanted to repeat it or 102

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that I liked the feeling when I was up there, but in the sense that I had the courage to run up the mountain alone in order to accomplish my dream. This fact fascinated me. When I was walking or in a restaurant, I always heard people telling their children never to go up a mountain on their own. I had already done it and came back safe and sound. The thought that I had done something many other people had not really made me feel important and brave.

Even though the trail on which the incident sight was in was a green slope (the easiest one) and I was already skiing down blue slopes, I did everything in my reach to pass by that same place every time. It made me feel the moment exactly as it had been that day.

As I skied down the mountain I could not stop thinking about the incident, I do not know if it was because I was not over it or because I had nothing else to think about. When I got in the chairlift again, the boy beside me asked me which time I had been the most afraid. I told him the entire story. The slowness of the chair helped me to have time to tell him the whole story. He could not believe it. He told me that he had also seen the race that year because he lived in Aspen, a town nearby Vail. He asked me, â&#x20AC;&#x153;The security guards were everywhere. How did you get in?â&#x20AC;? I did not have any idea how I had gotten past the security lines. There was none that I remember. That reiterates my point: there is no security! I felt good telling the whole story. It was as if I finally could share this experience with someone else and get his or her feedback. While I was telling him my adventure, I looked down the chairlift and the large amount of skiers that fell and then another individual who was looking another way hit them impressed me. Snowboarders I did not keep track of since they fall down all the time just to stop and rest for the most part.

Two years ago, I went once again to Vail, but this time in summer. We had kept going every two years but always during winter time, since we figured there was a lot more to do in that season than in summer. We stayed at the same hotel as usual and began to browse the activities brochure the staff member handed to us in the front desk. Although I had expected it since I knew we were going to Vail again, the fact that the same race was underway at the same exact time I was going to be there once again took me by surprise. I laughed when I saw the advertisement. There was a racer all dressed in blue with the black helmet on. My parents immediately thought that was the same man I had told them about in my descriptions of the incident. No. That was not him. There is something different. It took me about two days to realize that it was the helmet. It did not have the skull. Maybe he had changed it. However, I was sure it was not him. I decided to have a look at the race, but this time from behind the finish line. The velocity of the racers amazed me. I could not even imagine the adrenaline they were experiencing. Although the terrain covered is a lot, the race takes very little time to complete. The spectators all around me surely were watching the race, but they had certainly not experienced it first hand, as they thought they were doing at that moment.

I am currently an advanced skier and usually went to the black diamond slopes, which are the most difficult ones. Now I understand those people who found it very exciting to jump over obstacles even if they are people. However, since I understood the feeling of IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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being on the ground with a massive crowd of racers coming right at you, I decided to always stop and help the people stand up, if possible. I realized that everyone criticizes the rescue teams, but no one does anything about them. Once, I saw a women fall very hard on a black slope, on which it is extremely difficult to get up and keep going, due to its severe inclination.

I went to the hut where there was a red painted on the front door. I expected to find all the rescuers in there drinking coffee and laughing at each otherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s jokes. I really hoped they proved me wrong. That was not the case. What a surprise! It was just as I had imagined. It took them about 10 minutes to get ready and get all the gear set up. Once again, the security, service, and full attention this organization provided amazed me!

I do not know how I remember all the details of the experience or why I am still angry with the rescue team and Jones. What I certainly know is that that experience taught me what it felt like to be literally alone in the middle of nothing. Although I used to be afraid of going on my own up tall mountains or being too near a motorcycle race, I know that one of the main reasons why I am such a good skier now and why I enjoy speed so much has to do with that experience. I have never learned to ride a motorcycle well, because when I always get on one, I drive too slowly to really get good at it. It has been about eleven years since the incident took place and I still like to go to the same mountain. So the athletes can have more space on the slope, the trees were cut off. Occasionally, I dream about that moment when I am in Colorado, especially in the flight to Denver. Any situation I face now is nothing compared to the fear and anxiousness I have now. I could have not told the story because of a silly idea. However, to me, it was not only an idea. It was the dream to reach the summit.

Stephanie Vainberg - 11th Grade

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Starting From Scratch Nanda Elenbaas - AP Language and Composition - Grade 11

My adventure begins in 1996.

As you get older, you always wish that you could have done more with your life, traveled to different countries and experience things other people cannot. I feel very lucky to say that will never be an issue for me. I have moved, lived, and visited so many places it is hard to keep count. This affected my life in many ways. How many people can say they have lived in three continents before they were fifteen? Not many.

My mom’s job is the reason we move so often. Sometimes my mom feels guilty because we never want to move and we do not like the new place for a very long time.

Except, I never remember thinking that I blamed my mom for not liking a country. In most cases I would just blame the school or the country itself. I only started accusing them when I turned old enough to understand what was actually happening.

A few key factors that take time to adjusting to a country are the weather, the people and the environment. Out of all the places I have lived, none of them are similar. Maybe the languages are and the continent they are in, but not those three factors.

You learn that it takes a while to adjust to change and it takes a while to like a place, from moving so much. I have so many memories I want to share about each place, but I am not going to tell you my life story it is more me trying to tell you how my life story came to be.

My childhood began in Pretoria, South Africa.

This was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I lived there from when I was a baby until I was six years old. The only things I really remember from South Africa were school, safaris and parties. It was not a high school party, but more like a barbeque.

Sometimes I have a flashback. In these moments, you really want to go back. Not back to the country, but back to that exact moment. Sadly, you can never re create a memory, so maybe if I write them down I can kind of relive it.

Kindergarten was an interesting time. Apparently I was very talkative and got in trouble for it. I guess I used to be one of those annoying kids that never stopped making noises. Once you turn fourteen this will seem very funny because you turn out completely different. Now, I do not recall doing any of that because they were usually stories told by my parents or sister.

What I do remember doing is ‘stealing’ raisins from the nurses’ office and getting caught.

When you got hurt on the playground or did not feel good, you could go to the nurse and she would give you some raisins to make you feel better. You were supposed to eat them in the office, but us crazy kids used to sneak them out and share them with our

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friends. My friends were very good at it, but I always seemed to have trouble doing it. Once, I planned to escape with the raisins in my hand. I was sketchy about the plan, but I gave it a shot since I had no pockets. Well, when I was about to walk out the door, the nurse told me to open my hands. I had to eat every single one of them in front of her before I could leave.

My friends were disappointed.

I cannot start writing about my life in South Africa and not mention anything about the safaris. It is basically mandatory for anyone to go on safaris in South Africa. They are beautiful and not to mention unforgettable. You rent a 4X4, pack everything you will need for a whole day and just drive since the parks are usually enormous. Our car usually had a back part that was open so my sister and I, or if anyone came with us, could stand up and my dad would drive fast. We would be in charge of spotting the animals. Once you see an animal, everything around you is quiet. Instead of yelling, “There! Over there!” you would just nudge them and point so that the animals would not get scared and run off. Once we stood still for half an hour because there was a herd of elephants walking by right on the route the cars were supposed to follow. Honestly, you do not care because you are busy either taking pictures or just enjoying the moment. As the day came to an end, the sky would turn blue and there would still be a few rays of light in the sky. I will never forget when the sun would set and the temperature would slowly drop.

The driving in South Africa was also different. Just like in the United Kingdom, South Africans drive on the left side of the road. That is the most I can recall from how people drove there. I was too young to pay attention to if people drove through red lights or actually respected the laws. It was more like me trying to look out the window, if I could reach, and looking at the top of a mountain or the sky. Most of the cars you would see driving around were mini buses, regular cars and motorcycles. One time we were waiting at a stoplight and I was just minding my own business. I vaguely remember hearing my mom say, “…Cover your ears…” and all of a sudden there is an enormous crash. A light blue mini bus crashed into somebody on a motorcycle. That is probably the first serious vehicle accident I had ever seen and I was terrified. From then on my sister and I would always get scared when we saw a light blue mini bus driving near us.

South Africa had amazing weather, it was usually sunny and later in the afternoon there would be a small breeze. The weather was not like that every day. Since I was young, when the weather was incredibly hot it did not really matter since I did not notice as easily as I do now. It was easy to play outside in our garden or go swimming every weekend since the sun was mostly out every day.

When I was around five or six I asked my parents how they met Eggie and Janie and they would say that one day they knocked at our house and Janie introduced herself and said that she and her sister, though they were not related, were looking for a job. I am sure that is

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not how it went but that is the story I have always heard. Later, when I became a little older I never bothered to ask. These two magnificent women were my babysitters and also best friends in South Africa. Out of all the people who took care of me, Eggie and Janie were the ones who had the most impact on my life. I was with them all day for most of the week. They made a delicious lunch for me everyday. It was very thick slices of bread with a lot of butter on both of them and a thick layer of jam. My parents noticed that I was gaining weight and made me stop eating them, but we would always be sneaky and eat them anyways. I have so many amazing memories with them and they all make me smile.

I would always sit on Janiesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; back when I was younger and when we got to the door I was always amazed at how a piece of metal could open a door. I was curious and wanted to try to do it myself. Eggie and Janie always said no until one time they finally let me. I think I twisted it the wrong way because next thing I know half of the metal is missing and the door was not open.

When you are six, moving is not on the list of things you care about. Things like getting a toy or the next time you can go swimming is. My sister had to leave her best friend behind which was very difficult since she was ten understood what was happening better than I did. The hardest thing I did at this point in my life was saying good-bye to Eggie and Janie. They meant so much to me and all of a sudden I was leaving them behind.

I have no recollection of my parents telling me that I was moving to Brazil. I think it was me more tagging along with my parents, not really understanding the whole situation.

Our way of saying good-bye to our close friends and acquaintances was throwing a big party inviting almost everyone that we ever met in South Africa. I remember doing many things such as learning how to play typical African instruments, talking to my friends and playing with my dog that we had to leave behind. I mostly remember this because there are so many pictures and albums in my house.

We had a lot of people walking around our house when the company came to pack our furniture and other things. I remember we had to buy lunch for them and my dad decided to go to McDonalds. We went around to get everyoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s order, which ended up being about thirty different meals. We came back with about ten Big Mac bags filled with the food for the packers. There are many moments I do not remember from this time in my life, but the smiles on their faces are unforgettable.

When I spoke English, I used to have a South African accent. Instead of saying tomato, (tah-MAY-toe), I used to say tomato, (tuh-MAH-toe). I regret losing the accent but I could not help it. Once we moved to Brasilia and my sister and I went to an American School for the first time, we adjusted to the American accent. Before moving, my dad would tease my sister by saying tah-MAY-toe really bothered her. Later on when her American accent IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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kicked in she would hate it when my dad said tuh-MAH-toe.

My first big move to Brasilia, Brazil in 2002.

I would wonder how we would communicate with the people since we did not know the language. My sister and I, mostly my sister, would always complain about it to my parents. They had lived in other Spanish speaking countries before so they understood Portuguese a bit, but we were going in there without any knowledge of the language, the people and the environment.

I do not really remember the day I arrived or even what happened that day. All I remember was going to orientation and having a tour of the school without my parents. I was about six and was terrified of being alone, but my sister was there with me. There was this one girl and her brother who randomly began talking to us. Long story short, we are friends, their parents and our parents are friends and we became those families that went on trips together.

In school, I took Portuguese classes everyday and ended up learning one phrase, “ Eu não posso falar português.” Yes, I did use Google translate to see how to spell all the words, but I can say it perfectly. I wish I did remember how to speak Portuguese because it would be really cool to be able to speak four languages.

My parents did not like living in Brazil, especially in Brasilia. It is nothing like Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paolo where there is a lot to do. It was more like the suburbs. You had a house, went to school or work, and could go out to eat at the pier.

Let me tell you something about Pier 21. There was no Ferris wheel or other things you usually see at a pier. There was a view of water (I am not sure if it was an important river or just some water), restaurants, a bookstore and a movie theater. That is exactly how I remember it and that is all you had.

When you are about nine you like going out to eat and visiting your friends, but when you are older like my sister and parents, you can get a little crazy from doing the same routine every day for two years.

Maria came in everyday. She was a lot younger than Eggie and Janie and I had difficulty talking to her since I did not speak Portuguese and she did not speak English. I do remember obsessing over trying to teach her how to speak English. I would write down random words, translate them to Portuguese, and then quiz her. Now that I look back on it, I do not think she enjoyed it very much, but politely smiled and sat with me for two hours, once a week, ‘trying’ to learn English.

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As far as I can remember, the driving in Brazil was pretty organized and not hectic and disorganized. One time when we were stopping at a red light on a busy street, a man stepped out of his car. As a kid you never see this happen because you stay seated until you reach your destination. I pointed it out to my dad and sister and it turned out the man was peeing right on the street. He stepped out of his car to pee while the light was red and sat back down when it turned green. I found that very strange.

When I heard that we were moving to Argentina, I was a bit sadder because I had actual friends that I was leaving behind. The good thing about this move was that the countries were a lot closer. I could visit them much easier then I could visit South Africa. But I never did.

My dad was the first who went to visit Argentina to see how everything was. I think his main reason to visit before us was for the schools because after, when arrived, we went to orientation. Usually, with my friends, parents would visit the country before to check out the schools and houses, but in our case it took us six months to find one.

We were living in a hotel and two different apartments for people in our situation, before we finally found a house we all liked.

The car ride to the airport in Brazil was not that sad for me. My sister was crying and I was reading a letter one of my best friends wrote for me. I remember there were some grammar mistakes, but I still thought it was nice of her. As I read the letter, the image or her crying in her momsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; arms came to mind while I drove away the last night I was in Brazil.

You are not supposed to feel good when people cry, but I felt like she actually cared and was going to miss me. That is the main reason I did not mind as much that she was crying.

When we landed in Buenos Aires, we took a cab to the hotel and I remember sitting and thinking about the name Buenos Aires. With the little amount of Portuguese I managed to learn, I realized that it translated to Good Airs. Then I looked outside the window and saw a lot of cars and grey fog coming out of them. Oddly the sky was very blue and there were almost no clouds. I guess it lived up to its name.

My memorable life in Buenos Aires, Argentina began in 2005.

The driving in Buenos Aires was crazy, it was not slow and crowded (only on Sundays), but people would drive very fast and do whatever they wanted. The first year we were there, we had a rental car. It was probably the smallest, most out-of-shape thing, but we still chose it. So one day my dad, sister and I were just driving when all of sudden the car starts slowing down. After a couple seconds it just stopped. My dad forgot to look at the gaslight. We were stuck on the side of the road with no gas. We tried to push it for a while, but my dad was the one who had to steer and my sister and I were not strong enough to push it. Luckily, my dad realized there was a gas station a kilometer away so it was not as bad as IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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we expected. He came back with gas and we made it home.

I remember driving to school. You had to drive down a hill and you could see the river, Rio de la Plata, and the sun rising over it. It took us thirty seconds to get down the hill, which is enough to see the beginning of the sunrise. At first the sky was a mixture of red and orange. Then you saw a yellow-white arc coming up and after you were down the hill, the sun would be just above the horizon. Back then, I was always too tired to care, but once you look back, you remember those moments and how beautiful they were.

My first day of school in Argentina was very weird. I remember thinking to myself not to be nervous and I just had to talk to everyone. I arrived with my mom to my classroom and no one was there, only my teacher. He welcomed us and brought my mom and I to the playground where everyone else was. He brought me to a group of girls who were all talking about their summer vacation. He introduced me to all of them and told me that the girl in front of me would be my buddy. The girl looked at me and seemed scared and did not know what to say to me. So, I asked her what she did for summer and she answered me. It was all very awkward but at that age, you let it slide. That year I met few people I would spend the next six years going to school with. Most of them move, but there was a group of us that would go to school together from grade three to grade eight. To most people it does not seem like a very long time, but to me it did because we saw each other grow up.

Argentines are notorious for staying up very late, mostly because everything opens late. Restaurants would close at one in the morning and people would leave clubs at six in the morning.

I remember I invited people in fourth grade to Kansas, a steak house, for my birthday.

It was a Friday and very busy and you could not make a reservation. We had to wait two hours before we got our seats and we had to call each of my friend’s parents to tell them to pick them up a lot later than planned. We finished eating at around eleven and everybody was pretty much sleeping at the table. I think they had fun.

One of the amazing things about living in Argentina was the weather. It had all four seasons, but the winter season would be during June all the way to August. Most of that time I would be in Holland where it would be summer. I basically lived in summer weather for five years straight.

I always knew that I was going to move after four years, that was how it worked. My parents did not have to tell my sister and I since we knew, but when they told us was that we got an extension for an extra year we were very happy. My sister would be able to graduate and I could ‘graduate’ from middle school.

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My family and I realized how quickly time went by when the summer of 2010 began. We had to pack our whole house, say good-bye to our friends and move to a country none of us were mentally prepared for. Even though my parents were born and lived in Holland, the idea of going back was not comforting.

I think I am making the move to Holland a bit dramatic, but none of us really wanted to move. Holland is an amazing country and many people want to visit it and I encourage them, but for my family and I, living in a familiar environment was too boring. We already visited it for a month every year. Was that not enough?

My sister was going to Chicago for college, my mom would be working in a different department and my dad would start to work in an office instead of at his desk at home. I was the only one who would be doing the same exact thing but in a different place.

My unexpected turn of events moving to Wassenaar, Netherlands in 2010.

When I moved to Holland I knew the biggest change and challenge to adapt to would be how everything ends really early there. You had dinner at five and restaurants would open around that time too. Closing time would be the latest around eight. I did not live in Amsterdam or The Hague so everything closed earlier. I lived in a town called Wassenaar and went to a school called The American School of The Hague (ASH). I guess it was like that since Wassenaar was just half an hour away from The Hague. What you did have a lot of was freedom. As a teenager, your bike is like your shoes, it brings you everywhere. You biked to school, peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s houses and the small shopping center in the middle of the town.

Orientation was super awkward. Everyone was coming back from their summer and wanted to talk to their friends. I really did not want to be there and tried my best to talk to people, but all wanted to do was go back to Argentina. It got worse though because orientation was not just one day, but three. In those three days I had to create my schedule for the next four years, take tests so that the school could determine which classes I could take and make friends I would need to keep for the next four years.

I never really felt like I fit in when I was in Holland. It was definitely different from all the other places and that was probably because of my age. In Argentina and Brazil, I was really young and I feel like when you are younger you can talk easier and connect more. You never think about how somebody will crimp your style if you hang out with them. Once you are in high school you are kind of already seen as something and you can either change it or just be yourself.

Not a lot happened in Holland. I joined the softball team, which was pretty cool.

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We travelled a lot and had practice three times a week. We also had a lot of games during the weekend, which gave me an excuse to tell people I actually did something. Other than that I concentrated on school and family since we could visit them a lot more and it was easier.

When I heard we were moving to Colombia, I was excited because I never really liked living in Holland. It is fun to go there during the summer but besides that, it was boring.

I was usually the foreign one at a school and did not know the country too well. I was not the only one who had a Dutch nationality at my school, but it felt weird to admit that I was Dutch since it was an American school.

Anyways, my family and I were on vacation in Spain and we were in the lobby surfing the web. I was about to go to my room when my mom came up to me and said she just got an offer to move to Colombia. I knew a few people attending Colegio Nueva Granada, so I thought it might be kind of cool. I did not really know what to think, but I remember opening my computer up again and telling my friend on Skype. She said I should go because we knew the same people who lived there. My sister told us it was a great idea because we would be in the same time zone as her. I spent that whole night thinking about it and how different it would be.

When I mentioned the news to my friends back in Holland many seemed sad, but not heartbroken. This is understandable since they only actually got to know me for about a year. I was going to attend ASH for another month and then leave to Colombia.

As a good-bye party I invited some of my friends to a local bagel shop. When everyone arrived at around 5:30 on a Friday, we went inside to order. They told us they were closing and could not order anymore. We then had to decide on a new location and the only place open was Subway. I am quite good at organizing events.

My rushed move to Bogota, Colombia in 2011.

The minute my family and I walk out of the airport, we notice, again, how crazy the cars drive in South America. People here do their own thing, but mostly because there is so much traffic. They want to get into the faster lane and just cut in front of you.

One problem I had was which school I wanted to go to. Usually the embassy or my parents would choose it for me but for some reason they made me pick.

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one. Well, I sometimes get insecure about the choices I pick whether it is about food or a school, so I took a test for Colegio Nueva Granda and Colegio Gran Bretaña. I was in between schools because I was following the IB program in Holland and CGB was the one that offered that. CNG on the other hand was where all my friends were going to, but only offered AP. I was accepted to both schools, but decided to pick CNG since I already knew people there and it had a bigger school community.

A lady from the embassy who had enrolled their kids into CGB said they heard some bad things about CNG and about how people, especially in my grade, were not the nicest.

Her kids were at least four years younger than me and never went to CNG. I do not know who her sources were, but I guess that was her way of trying to welcome me to Colombia.

To sum up my first year in Colombia, I arrived at CNG. They put me in the lowest classes without looking at my transcript from Holland. And the people who I knew at the school were leaving.

In Colombia I never had an orientation. I just started school. They paired me up with a buddy who had two classes with me. She was very nice and explained how the schedule worked because it was the complete opposite from my school.

The first day of school was interesting. I spent the first three hours in the counselors’ office while he tried to make my schedule ‘based’ on the one I had in Holland. When I finally got my schedule, I had English where I would meet my buddy. The counselor walked with me to the classroom and called her outside so that she could explain to me my schedule. She even wrote it down for me. When she was done explaining, I entered the class and sat down.

Somebody from the other side of the room said hi to me and I said hi back. I do not remember what the teacher said to me, but after that she continued teaching. I looked around and I saw a few people paying attention, others on their phones and a couple putting on make-up.

After English class, I was told there was going to be an assembly. I had no idea where that would be, but my buddy took me and introduced me to her friends. They were all welcoming and we sat down somewhere on the ground. I was just sitting there so I decided to text my friend. As I was trying to type, “Where are you?” my phone suddenly got taken away from me. A stranger, I assume a teacher, told me I could go get it from her after school and walked away. I do not think she knew I was new, but I do not blame her because nobody knew that. Luckily, the group of people I was sitting with told me where her classroom was.

The reason we had an assembly was so that we could vote for our student council. The only person I knew was my buddy. I voted for her and three other people I did not even know.

I never actually thought about my first day of school until now and I just realized how odd it was. It was also the first time I started school after it already began.

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The end result of my life in Colombia is still pending. I supposedly still have two more years, but you never know.

My thoughts as I look back at all of this.

One thing that is hard about moving all the time is the rest of your family: uncles, aunts, grandparents and cousins. I never grew up with my cousins. I would see them for two months every year and then lose all contact with them. The rest of my cousins see each other often the whole year and have all these memories together and then my sister and I arrive and it is us against the rest of them. It can be intimidating. I had learned to deal with the fact that I will never be as close to the rest or be someoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s favorite cousin, but when I was younger and one of my older cousins told me that she liked my other cousin better than me it was very heartbreaking. I spent that whole day trying to get her on my side. Unfortunately, I did not succeed.

Traveling as much as I have, I always wondered how it would be like to live in one place. Not having any international experience, having the same friends my whole life, knowing everyone who lives near me and lastly, never having to say goodbye. I am not going to lie; I sometimes wish my life were like that. You never have to worry about being the new kid, starting school alone or living in a completely different country you know nothing about.

I guess that is part of the whole experience. I am grateful for my lifestyle. It is very rare and I always feel interesting when people ask me where I have lived. I can tell a story about each place, like I just have, without thinking too hard. I think of one topic and all of a sudden a story pops in my mind. If I were living in one country or one town, I do not think I would have stories about going on safaris or simple things like the weather. Whenever you move, you have a sort of adrenaline rush go through you. You are excited to start at a new school, look for new houses, meet new people and living in a new environment. When you sit on the airplane ready to leave, there is a strange feeling you get in your stomach and you know you are excited to begin a whole new life. You have an opportunity to start from scratch.

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One day, and Then One Year Beatriz Preciado - AP Language and Composition - Grade 11

I had waited a long time for this to happen. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it, but it was inevitable. More than 10 years had passed since the last time I had to face an event like this one and the stakes were much higher now. I was alone. On my own for the first time and all of the people that used to be there for me when I needed them where kilometers away. It was a new start. All of the things I had worked on for the last years meant nothing right now. I needed to start all over and give it my best so that I could really make something out of the short time I had.

I woke up with the strange feeling of not knowing where you are and how you got there. I had already been living in this place for over a week, but I still opened my eyes and tried to visualize my old room, the big orange drapes that I had chosen when I was very small and that now made me dizzy, the big bookshelf that had stored most of my childhood memories and a lot of pictures of the people I loved, The big gray TV that I barely used but that brought me good memories, they were all gone. In their places were new catalog furniture objects that didn’t seem to flow with my room but that awkwardly stood still in the light of dawn.

I rolled over, I could see the shinning red numbers of my alarm clock, it was already 7:05 and I knew I had to get ready soon but I felt as if my bed sheets had gained weight and had made the decision of not letting me stand up. My night sleep hadn’t been ideal but I had to work with what I had. I focused my sight on my sister’s bed. She was still sleeping, it was strange sharing a room with her, and it was something that few times before we had to do. I stood up; I still couldn’t keep my eyes open. I rubbed my eyes a couple of times before I could focus my way to the bathroom. The cold floor tiles gave me the chills as I walked towards the sink. I looked myself in the mirror, it was me, but somehow I felt as if the person in front of the mirror was a completely different from the one being reflected from it.

I was ready in a few minutes, since I had pre-chosen the clothes I was going to wear the night before. I walked back to my room, 7:18 on the alarm clock, I was on my schedule.

I woke my sister up and guided her to the bathroom. She always took hours getting ready so I had to go and knock on her door constantly as I made our breakfast. I had to be careful not to wake my mom up. I looked out the window as I fixed the table and got the food out of the fridge. It was dull outside; I could feel the cold just by seeing the grey buildings covered with fog. I felt as if I was the only one awake in the whole city, which was in a state of total extinction.

My sister was ready. We sat at the table and said a few words. We both looked at our watches again, 7:32. Time was passing faster than I expected. We both ate slowly, as if we didn’t want to get up from the table. As if we didn’t want our lives to continue and we didn’t want reality to hit us. After we cleaned the plates we walked to the bathroom and finished getting ready. Closing the door of my house I felt as if I had left something inside, but I hadn’t, I had checked twice, even three times the night before to make sure everything was ready.

It was, I am sure of it now, but I wasn’t sure at the moment. With a lot of thoughts rushing through my head I pressed the elevator button and I got in. A couple minutes later I was

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outside my house. Again with a weird feeling my sister and I both looked at each other and I could see the confusion in her face was similar to mine.

I stepped out of the building, which was now my home. It was weird to call it my home, since it really wasn’t, and I didn’t really want to call it that. For now, at least, I hoped. It was really cold outside and there was nothing familiar in sight. I walked beside my sister at a constant speed. It took us five minutes to get to the bus stop. I had chosen to take the public bus instead of the subway because for one, the bus stop was closer to my house, and also because apparently the subway was very crowded, especially in the mornings, and there was never really any place to sit. That’s what I had heard about the subway anyway. We both sat down because the electronic TV screen said that the bus arrived in seven minutes. I closed my eyes for just a moment and remembered all the events that had taken place and got me to this place.

I wanted to make a good impression. I was stressed about the time we had. I quickly dismissed the thought of being late and told myself that everything was going according to plan.

As the bus stopped in front of the stop I let an old lady pass in front of me, she took so long getting on the bus, but I waited patiently besides my sister. As I got in I saw lots of available seats where I could sit. Yes, I was right taking the bus to school. I sat there and looked up to the ceiling and saw a cardboard with all of the stops that bus made. I counted the number of stops it took for the bus to get to Rue de Theatre, eleven stops. Wow. Seemed like a lot, since in subway there were only four. Every detail seemed interesting to me at the time. I sat beside my sister, naturally, but in front of me there was a little boy, he was probably in the fifth grade. His parents weren’t with him, and I could see he was nervous; he had a huge backpack, which he placed in a seat besides him. He could do that, since there was really no one that could use that seat. He got off five stops after I got in, so I had no more distractions really. Now, I could only think of what I was going to happen to me next.

One more stop left I thought and I whispered it to my sister, there was no need to whisper really, but I didn’t feel comfortable talking in my normal voice. We both stood up and I pressed the red button on the side of the chair, as soon as I pressed it a red beep in the front of the bus sounded. We walked to the bus door and we both got out at the same time as soon as the doors opened. I kept walking beside my sister as if I didn’t want to let go just yet. I saw no familiar faces, obviously, I was new, and it was natural I didn’t know anyone.

There weren’t a lot of people heading towards that place; it seemed desolate, like one of those very remote towns in Massachusetts in the winter. It wasn’t winter though, that’s why I didn’t understand why it felt like that.

I walked through the front gate it was all white, again an image of winter popped in my head, naked trees and seven feet of snow. There were a lot of people gathered in front. It was already time to go in, but nobody seemed to want to face reality just yet, so as I walked in I continued to stare at the people that stayed behind. I finally said goodbye to my sister I

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wished her good luck, and she said the same. We said we would meet in front of the front gate when it all was over. I already wanted it to be over, but it was just starting. She went to the other side and I entered the other pathway it was very small and as soon as I passed the entrance courtyard I saw no one, for a moment I thought maybe I had been confused and maybe I wasn’t supposed to be there until tomorrow. I looked at my watch, it was 8:19, and it started at 8:30, and I had homeroom in the auditorium. Well, that’s what it said in the schedule that they had emailed me the week before. Where was the auditorium? I pulled out a map from my backpack, (which they had emailed me along with the schedule, which they called timetable, weird) I tried not to look geeky or anything. This map only confused me more than I already was. I decided it was time to ask someone where it was. There was a tall blond, and blue-eyed girl. She looked nice I thought, lets ask her.

“Sorry, excuse me, do you know where the auditorium is?” I blurted out without even saying please or hello.

She turned around and her long blond hair turned along with her, she looked at me smiled and turned back around and continued taking to her friend. What an idiot I thought. Good start so far. Maybe she didn’t speak English, no, that was impossible, everyone was supposed to speak English in this place, anyways I felt like if I had a knot in my stomach and I didn’t really know who to turn to. After this, for the first time in my life, I felt alone, completely alone. People who were starting to come in the courtyard surrounded me, and I still felt completely alone.

Then I decided I had to pull myself together, I couldn’t be late, not today. I decided to ask a boy who was standing in a corner, he was nice about it and showed me the way, and after this I didn’t feel so bad. As I headed with speed to the auditorium I saw like twenty people my age gathered around a staircase, which previously the boy had indicated that would take me into the auditorium.

As I approached the staircase I decided I was going to try to talk to someone, maybe make some friends. There was a redheaded girl and she was standing alone, just like me.

I said “Hi what’s your name, I’m Beatriz, and I’m from Colombia, that’s why my accent is weird.” I tried to break the ice with a simple joke. She smiled and said “I’m Celia.”

Then she was about to say something and was quickly interrupted because two girls came running towards her and jumped on top of her. They all started shouting. Of course, they hadn’t seen each other in over two months now, it was certain that they were excited, I would be, if it were my friends from back home. The three of them hooked each other by the elbows and walked inside the auditorium leaving me there, alone again.

Another failed attempt to socialize. Awkwardly I walked alone down the stairs, I entered the auditorium, finally, the auditorium. I had already experienced three failed attempts in making friends that day, so I decided to sit alone. I sat in the front because I was like the 118

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fifth person to go in so the director said to fill the front seats first.

The director, Ms. Burchill seemed nice. At exactly 8:30 homeroom started. When she started talking there were still some people that were taking but they stopped as soon as she raised her voice. I didn’t want to turn around, that is why I didn’t know how many people we were until Ms. Burchill said “Welcome to Ecole Active Bilangue Jeannine Manuel to all the new students that are joining us from all over the world, please stand up, and the other 53 of you, stay seated.”

As I stood up slowly I did quick math in my head, 53+11. 64, we were 64 I thought.

This time I did turn around, I wanted to see who was standing up next to me, I wanted to see which were the new students like me. I hoped that one of them would turn out to be nice.

Ms. Burchill continued talking and today, I don’t really remember much of what she said that day, because I was so nervous and I was trying very hard not to distract myself from her face. She kept on looking at me, I was in the front row, first mistake and my attempts not to look geeky all just failed the instant I sat in the first row. She handed us our new ‘timetables’ and she said these were final and if we wanted to make any changes we needed to do them after the first week, after that, there were to be no more changes in our timetables. I quickly looked at mine. I saw that on Mondays I finished at 6pm, which came as a shock, since back home I always finished at 2:05, exactly. It was something I would have to get used to very quickly.

Before I knew it the assembly or short homeroom meeting was over. I looked at my watch, and it was 9:40. One hour and ten minutes had passed. It seemed shorter than it really was and I didn’t really know why that happened since I was really bored throughout the whole time and they say time flies when you are having fun. I was having no fun. I still preferred time to go quickly. I stood up last since I was in the first row and when I was heading towards the door I looked back and sighed, one more year left I thought. I took my timetable out of my bag, I didn’t really know why I had put it there already, anyways, I had Economics. In room MO15. Where was room MO15 I thought again. Only one hour had gone by since the moment I had gotten to school and I had found myself lost twice.

I went to the bathroom. I knew where the bathroom was because right in front of the staircase of the auditorium there was a huge sign that said TOILETTES. I went straight to it. I opened a stall and pulled out the school map of my bag again. I tried to make sense out of it, and after 10 minutes I finally saw that I could make it to the MO building. I left the bathroom quickly and headed towards where I thought the building was. Fortunately I was right I saw MO2 in a door and it was what looked to be a science classroom. I kept going through the halls and there was nearly no one there I panicked and thought that I was going to be late. MO13 I was getting closer and closer. I was glad. I finally saw MO15. I was relieved finally; I waited a couple of seconds before I decided I wanted to go in. I turned the handle and I went in.

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About 15 heads turned towards me and the teacher said ‘Bonjour’ and spoke some other words I didn’t understand, it was only after a week that I actually understood that he was just asking why I was late. At the moment I was freaked out and I just said ‘je ne parles pas français’ which I had Google translated the night before just in case I had any tête-à-tête’s with anyone at school. After I spoke my very first French words I headed straight to an empty row of desks and I sat there, alone. I took out my notebook, I had one.

Only one for the first day I thought it would be enough. I guess the class was in French, since that is the only thing the teacher was speaking, I understood nothing until he sat down in his computer and started to call up on a lot of name’s. Beatriz Preciado he called, I answered quickly and very quietly ‘yes’ he continued with the next person and then the next. A whole 30 minutes went by and I had not understood a word of what he was saying.

He then looked at me and started speaking English! ‘For those of you who don’t speak French, you are allowed to answered the tests and homework in English’.

I felt relieved to think that at least he knew that there were people that didn’t speak French. My notebook was still blank. I had stared at the chalkboard, yes chalkboard for the whole period, which went by quickly; it was only 45 minutes long. I remembered now that in the meeting in the auditorium Ms. Burchill had mentioned that this year classes only lasted 45 minutes to ensure that we would keep focused during the whole day. I thought that was a good idea, and I felt comfortable for the first time during the day because I thought that at least classes would go by faster.

The bell rang and the sounds of when my classmates pushed in the chairs and of everybody gathering their things mixed with the bell, which resembled an airport bell for the new flights. I don’t know why, but I thought of that in that specific moment.

I saw I had math and my stomach just started grumbling and I felt like if nothing was going right today. I hated math. I had always hated math, and I didn’t want to try to make any more efforts today. I had already made enough and I didn’t feel like trying! But it was only 10:15, the day had just started. I had a little hint of a smile for just a moment when I thought to myself that today was Tuesday, and that on Tuesdays I finished at 4:30. Getting to math class was easy, because it was NH13 and I had seen it just the hallway before economics class. I went back there and I was right, I had in fact seen the classroom. I went inside and I sat on the back, alone. I waited a few minutes and before I knew it the bell rang. As soon as it did I saw the teacher walking in the door. She was tall and she had long blond hair. She was really pretty.

Even for a math teacher I thought. She said a very quick ‘Hello’ to the class and then she started writing on the board. She wrote Mme Coursaget and on the bottom she wrote HL MATH. Hmm. HL math? What could that mean. I had no idea, maybe she would explain.

“I hope that you are all in the right place, this is HL MATH class.” She said in an ironic tone.

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I wasn’t in the right place at all I thought. As soon as she said that she handed out

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the math books, which were of course huge and very, very heavy. She said we had to open it in a certain page and that we should start doing the problems. I started trying to do the problems. I was really frustrated that I couldn’t solve even one, but then I turned around and I saw that a girl behind me was exactly in my position. She had her sheet of paper blank. I felt relieved but I still tried my best. She gave us like 20 minutes for 30 problems. As soon as everybody was done (except for me) she started discussing them as a class and asking people to come up and write their answers on the board. Not me I thought. I had barely gotten to problem number 5 and I still thought that they were wrong. I looked at the clock slyly so the teacher wouldn’t notice that I was in a hurry to leave. I saw it was 10:40. Only 20 more minutes I thought. After discussing the problems, which I took no participation in, she started writing on the chalkboard. Numbers, letters, and more numbers. I took out my notebook and I started copying those numbers down, also I decided to make a rough draft of what my letter to Ms. Burchill would look like. It would be something like: Hello Ms. Burchill, I think I am in the wrong math class. I should be in normal.

Thank you.

No, no, and no I thought. That was too abrupt and I wanted to be very polite with her. She had been really nice to me this morning and over email. I decided to try and wright again Ms. Burchill, I think I don’t belong in the HL math class. If I could please ask you to be placed in the normal period Thank you.

Hmm. Better, but not quite. I decided that it was better to wait until I was home so I would be distracted with all the numbers written in the chalkboard. I like repeating that it was in fact a chalkboard because I wasn’t used to that. And every five minutes or so the chalk with the board would make a sound that I could feel to my bones. I didn’t even like the board.

The bell rang again. It was 11:00. One more class and it was lunchtime I thought. I saw in my schedule that it was History class. I hadn’t been that happy since I got my braces off.

I think. I loved History, always and in all the languages, but not in French I thought quickly. I was happy because months earlier they had asked me from school if I wanted to take History in English or in French, I chose English, and that is the reason I was so happy. Finally. Something familiar. Something that I knew about and something I was good at. I was happy. Period.

I got to class because I asked the guy that was in front of me where N17 was and he said he had class there too and that he would walk with me. I was glad that he had been nice.

I was also nervous because I didn’t know what we would talk about. He asked me where I was from and I answered I came from Colombia. He of course added right after “Ah cocaine IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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and beautiful girls.”

I smiled but I really didn’t want to smile. Sure, he had been nice about the whole ‘I’ll walk you to class and everything’ but I hated stereotypes. I then asked him where he was from and he said he was from a town about half an hour of London, maybe oxford, I don’t really remember. He didn’t grow to be one of my close friends.

He said “we’re here” he stood next to the door and politely let me pass in front of him followed by a “girls first.”

Then you go ahead I thought. I was still annoyed about the whole Colombian Cocaine thing. I guess I would have to get used to that because I was going to get it often.

Anyways, I didn’t want to be aggravated the whole history lesson, because again, I loved history. I sat alone, but he sat next to me. I didn’t really know why. I say he because I hadn’t really asked his name yet. I decided it was time to do so, after all he had been nice to me, and he was sitting next to me. It was the first time someone had sat next to me all day.

“What’s your name?” I said with a kind voice.

He said “I’m Ben.”

Benjamin I thought in my head because no one was really called ‘Ben’.

Anyways, the bell rang again. I hated that bell. I was going to have to get used to it, like a lot of the things in my new school.

A blond woman entered the door. Another blond teacher I thought. Weird. She was also very pretty and as soon as she started talking in English you could notice a very light, but yet noticeable French accent behind her almost perfect English. I didn’t care at all since the math teacher, Mme Coursaget she had a terrible accent when she spoke English.

My new history teacher, Mme Labalme. I write ‘Mme’ because that is what she wrote in the chalkboard. She seemed nice, she told us a little bit about herself and about the course. I liked everything she said. She said we were going to study about the beginnings of history until today. Starting with Herodotus, “the very first historian,” she said. Also, Ancient Greece, Roman Britain, and then we would continue with actuality but more focused on geography. Topics like overpopulation, global warming, and all those problems that we face today.

She then told us something very interesting. She said that usually we all know where we were when huge events occur. For example, if you start to think about it now. You know exactly were you were when the twin towers were hit. And I’m sure everyone that is around 20 years old also knows. She said those moments were very important because there are not a lot of moments like those. I thought about a moment in Colombian recent history, when 122

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Ingrid Betancourt was liberated from the FARC guerilla. I just thought of that in that moment.

The class went by very quickly and it was because in my own way I was having a lot of fun. 1 hour ago I was excited for lunchtime but now I wasn’t. I don’t even know why I was excited if I had no one to have lunch with. I wanted to stay inside the classroom forever, so I took a long time gathering my things. By things I mean pen because I hadn’t even needed to pull out my notebook because we did no writing. Ben stood up and waved at me, I waved back. That was all. He left and I was again alone.

I was the last person that left the room and I walked slowly. I pulled out the timetable from my bag and I checked at what time lunchtime was finished. It was 12:00 now, and I had until 1:45 to get back to class. Wow. So much lunch time. I wasn’t used to having almost two hours for lunch. So I went and asked a little girl if she knew where the secretary’s office was. She pointed to the door just in front. I was glad. I was glad that it wasn’t so far away. I knocked first and I heard a murmur in French. I guess I could go in now. I went in and I just started speaking in English, I didn’t even try my “Je ne parle pas francais,” I just spoke.

“I’m sorry, but I seem to have 2 hours of lunch”

The lady behind the desk who had black hair and dark black eyes looked at me confused at my question. As if she were confused because I was unhappy to have 2 hours of lunch.

She said, “yes, so?” in a very French accent.

“Well isn’t that a lot?” I said nervously wishing she wouldn’t yell at me.

“It is, but since there isn’t enough classrooms in school to fit you all then we have to have longer hours.”

“Oh okay, thank you and sorry to have bothered you” I said followed by a “Goodbye” and then again “thank you.”

I closed the door behind me and left. Interesting, I thought.

I looked again quickly at my schedule and after lunch, I had French for 2 hours and then I could finally go home. I had 1 hour and 45 minutes. I wasn’t that hungry and even if I were I had no one to go and have lunch with. I decided I would walk to the bus stop take the bus and maybe stop far away from school and see where I could eat where I wasn’t seen. I thought of maybe going to the bathroom, but then I thought that would be way too dramatic and way too boring.

I left the white gates of school, walking slowly, of course. I walked until the bus stop.

The electronic screen said 10 minutes. That’s okay I thought. I took out my phone and saw I had no messages. Of course, in Colombia it was only about 6 or 7 am. I then decided to go on face book, nothing. Then on twitter, I scrolled down for a few minutes and then there

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was nothing else to read. I stood up and checked the screen again, 1 minute. I was glad. The bus got there the doors opened and I got in. I sat on the back of the bus and I got out my headphones and played my playlist on my i-pod*. I checked every 2 minutes to check on which stop I was. I decided to get off after 6 stops.

I pressed the red button and the doors opened. I was lost, but fortunately there was a Boulangerie right next to me.

Boulangerie is French for Bakery. There was one in almost every corner in Paris.

I went in and the smell was incredible. There were breads of every kind, rolls, biscuits, cookies, everything of different flavors colors and shapes. Pain chocolat, croissant, baguette, apple pies and everything you could imagine. There were also sandwiches, I looked quickly at al the options and decided to take the Parisian, which was jam and butter, o jambon beurre. It was not expensive at all so I still had enough to by a Nestea. I left and walked around to see if I could find a bench. I did. Not too far away though, so I wouldn’t get lost. I ate my sandwich and it was delicious, I was very happy for a moment. That moment ended quickly because I wasn’t very hungry when I left school, I was now. I finished very fast and then I just sat there. I looked at my watch; it was 12:50 pm.

I plugged in my iPod and I continued to sit there listening to music. I looked at my phone and I had five bbm’s. Yay I thought. Finally. They were all from my friends asking how my first day was going and if everything was fine and if I was happy. I answered It was great, that it was a little hard, but great. Lies. But I didn’t want to be the girl that was unhappy living in Paris. I looked at my watch after replying to all my messages. Which was quick, since I just copy pasted all of them and ended up replying the same thing to all of them.

It was 1:10. I guess it was time to go. I walked back to the bus stop and luckily it wasn’t too far away. I looked again at the electronic screen and saw 7 minutes. Perfect. I waited, also listening to music and with my phone in my hands. The bus arrived and I got in, this time I sat in the front. The seats were much more confortable in the front I noticed.

I looked at how many stops were left. Not many, about seven more minutes. It was already 1:20, and I started at 1:45.

One more stop left. I stood up, and the same routine as before, I pushed the red button and the doors opened. I got out of the bus and walked towards the school gate.

Thirteen more minutes until class started. I took out my schedule in from my bag again to check where I had class. K17. Where is that? I went inside school and in the courtyard I asked a teacher if she could tell me where it was.

‘In front of the MO building’ she answered coldly.

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I knew exactly where the MO building was, so I walked straight to it. When I got IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, April 2013

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there I looked to my front and there was another building. That should be the K building, and it was. Now, I only had to find K17. Luckily the school was very small so I think by the end of the week I should be mastering the art of locating my classrooms.

I waited inside the room until the teacher got there. I was sitting alone. I continued sitting alone for the rest of the year. As soon as the teacher walked in she said “Bonjour” to all of us, followed by a “This is a French Beginners lesson, so if you know no French at all, that is okay.” In a of course, pretty strong French accent.

She seemed nice. The class went by very slowly. She explained a little of what we were going to do during the year and a little about the kinds of books we were going to read. She said we were going to read The Stranger by Albert Camus. L’etranger, in French. I thought that was very interesting. I could understand what she was saying because when she talked in French, she then said it all again in English.

She gave us our first homework assignment which was to write in a piece of paper for next class, our names, where we came from, what we like doing, what is our level of French, and what books we had read over the summer. She said since it was the first homework that we should do it in English and then Google translate it into French.

Her name was Mme. Van Marsenille. That was a long name. I didn’t even know how to pronounce it. Anyways, Mme. Van Marsenille let us out early, at 3:45. She said that usually on Tuesdays after the lesson we had half an hour to go to the library for study period but since today was the first day that we should go ahead and head home. I was so happy. I really liked my new French teacher.

I left the classroom and this time I was walking faster. I walked through the white gate and didn’t look at anyone, head down I thought. I had no reason to put my head down; I just didn’t want anyone to see me. It was finally time to go home. I was ecstatic, yes ecstatic, not happy, ecstatic. Finally, I thought. I walked to the bus stop and waited for the bus to come. I was enjoying the moment I had until my next day of school, which I wished wouldn’t come soon. But I didn’t want to think about that just yet. I thought to myself, only one more year to go. I can do this. Can I?

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The Quest Juliana Castro - AP Language and Composition - Grade 12

The carrot cake had too much frosting and was the size of a wrestlers fist. Yet, not fearing the possible health issues such as obesity,the teenage girl and old man picked up their spoons and ate as if they didn’t have all day. Uncle Loren was obviously the one that convinced her to share the over-frosted carrot cake. Juliana said yes because she knew food wouldn’t be her top priority for too long. The sugar in her system might help make time go faster but sugar only tends to deposit quickly, not make time speed up.

The rest of the passengers were asking for drinks in the bar as this odd looking duo sat at a table sharing the huge carrot cake. The location was prime since they were right next to the security checkpoint of the Baltimore Airport. Anyone who has traveled knows that it is essential to keep your eyes on the lines of the security checkpoints because the flow of people could ultimately predict whether you make your flight or not. Juliana and Uncle Loren would chat between bites and as they stuffed their faces with the cake, they could assess the line. Uncle Loren had been more relaxed after they had gotten her boarding pass and ticket so he simply focused on getting the biggest bites of cake.

Juliana was the one traveling. She kept checking her watch and making sure the line didn’t get too long. At the beginning it was every few minutes and then practically every second. Patience had never been Juliana’s virtue and after having that carrot cake, her jumpiness really kicked. If there was one thing that made her nervous, it was being left behind. One could think of an airplane as the epitome of being left behind. This was not a regular flight. This flight had been the result of months of dialogue and decisions.

The idea of missing the flight made her more and more anxious but there was no need, they had plenty of time.

---------- The trip had been planned 3 months in advance just because of one reason: parents.

It involved a lot of persuasion and really putting all the rhetoric one learns in school to practice. The heated debates between daughter and parents would have been worthy of a televised broadcast even though they were less glamorous. The battlefields would either be at the table, where the eaten food would be violently digested, or in the car. This trip was the culmination of months of hardcore persuasion and much bickering.

“Why can’t I go? Give me one good reason,” said Juliana whining.

“We can’t control anything if you go.” said her father, “I can’t have control of the situation if something goes wrong.”

“Your dad is right,” said her mother, nodding at her father, “We let you do what you want here because we are around, but what you are asking of us right now is to let our teenage daughter come in close proximity with danger. We would never forgive ourselves if something happened to you because we said yes.”

Juliana’s parents had that expression on their faces that only parents have. That 126

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expression that sometimes made her want to stop pushing the topic. They would look at her with concern mixed with desperation and just a tinge of anger, every single time she brought the topic up. At one point, the arguments they told her stopped making sense and this is how Juliana knew they were close to breaking. Among the most entertaining and somewhat stereotypical was: “You will be close to Mexico! Think of all those dangerous gangs!” said her mother one morning.

Mexicans? Their daughter was asking to go see her boyfriend in San Antonio and they were more concerned about borders? She found it a little hypocritical that her mother was assuming such a close-minded view when they themselves were Colombian. They knew what it was like to have a negative reputation because of the damage of a few. The scenarios they came up with were common in Colombia but just because she was going to be alone, they became more vivid to her parents.

These chats went on for about a month. Every morning Juliana would bring up the topic and just pester them with it. She was crafty and sought help. Her parents thought that by telling her that she could only go if someone went with her, they had won the battle. Little did they know she had been messaging with her aunt and her cousin asking if either would go with her. As soon as her aunt said yes because she had a work related trip in San Antonio, Juliana couldn’t help have a triumphant attitude when telling her parents the news.

As soon as she got the yes from her parents, which was more of a declaration of defeat, a flight was booked and everything was finally set in motion. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the day to get there but waiting for two months seemed like a second compared to the ten months that had already passed.

------- The security line was getting very long. Juliana and her uncle left part of the cake sitting on the plate. Even Uncle Loren and his sweet tooth couldn’t finish the overly-frosted carrot cake. They walked over to the line and she was now behind a suited man and an overly dressed woman. Uncle Loren stood idly by as the line moved and Juliana got further away.

When they were about to be too far away to talk, he told her to be careful and continued waiting from behind the taped area.

Juliana walked step by step and soon found herself in front of the security officer.

He simply extended his hand and she handed him her boarding pass and passport. The trick was to act excessively cheerful and maybe they would act nice back. Security at an American airport is intimidating to a foreigner. Juliana might have an American passport but it clearly stated that the origin is Colombian. The security officer was joking around with the other officer in duty and was pretty distracted. He handed Juliana her papers back and she couldn’t have gotten out of the way any faster.

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Now it was everyone’s favorite activity: security check stripping. Juliana wasn’t wearing anything that required too much time to take off but for some reason it was in this particular moment, that she got her first pang of excitement. As she placed her bag on the machine and passed the scanning machine, she always would turn around and find her uncle. He waved every single time and had a smile on his face. It was actually happening and as she collected her belongings, she turned one last time and waved goodbye to her uncle, walking away.

------- Juliana had arrived in the United States almost a month before her trip to San Antonio. If she had not been in the States during this time, the trip to San Antonio would probably not have happened. For months she had been talking to her aunt Magda about possibly doing an internship in her office. When it was confirmed that she would be one of three interns, arrangements were made for her to spend the whole summer with her aunt and uncle in Columbia.

Juliana was not used to being away from home and adjusting to her American family’s lifestyle had been a little hard. Not to mention the commuter bus rides that seemed to last for hours between Columbia and Washington DC. Every day was rise early and go to sleep late. While friends back home were tanning along sunny beaches or sleeping in late, Juliana was working 8 hours a day. The same task got old after a while and this just made her appreciate how school is a constant change of activities.

Since the day she had arrived, all her family had been expressing their thoughts about their “baby cousin” flying halfway across the country to see some guy. It was like fighting a battalion of war tanks with a pocket knife. Every time she would bring it up to anyone, the conversation immediately turned into a talk about warnings and concerns. Who knows? Maybe she was being naïve about this trip. Her cousins didn’t mind blatantly pointing out how sheltered she was and how the world could trick you in an instant.

“You might not be the only one,” said her cousin Marcy on night, “Juli, I am not saying this to scare you but you guys have been merely talking for a year. He might have other girls he is with at the same time as you.”

“He isn’t that kind of guy,” said Juliana calmly. “I will be fine. Your mom is coming with me and cousin Sara is also coming.”

“Juli, guys here aren’t like the guys you go to school with,” continued Marcy, “We just don’t want you to get hurt or get into a situation that could end up compromising you.”

Juliana knew exactly what they were talking about. But she knew herself enough and knew Jacob enough to know that a situation like the ones being insinuated would not occur. She was going to this trip with three bodyguards, one of which was her 60 year old aunt who could probably cancel the whole thing if anything questionable came 128

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up. The whole plan had been discussed. She would be staying with her cousin Sara and her husband at their hotel room. This also excited her since she hadn’t seen her cousin since November and this would give them an opportunity to catch up. In a sense she was reuniting with more than one person.

Even though she was firm in her decision of going, her cousin’s words took a toll on her. Doubts took over and now everything she was sure about turned into thoughts with back doors toward negative feelings. There was a pressure in her chest that came and went every time her family’s warnings came into her mind. Her everyday life became a string of thoughts of “What if?” and each one of these thoughts made the pressure in her chest stronger.

Along with being a little out of her element and the warnings, came the sleepless nights. Anxiety was building up. Every night Juliana would wake up feeling overwhelmed.

Nothing like this had happened back home. She found comfort in the fact that her aunt and uncle were so understanding of her teenage mood swings. They, after all, had had two teenage daughters of their own. They were so understanding they encouraged her to take a bubble bath and drink a cup of tea one night. Needless to say that was not one of the sleepless nights.

------------------ As she left the security checkpoint, her cell phone began to ring and the screen flashed a name that made her smile. She put the phone up to her ear and kept walking toward the gate.

“Hey Gabs,” said Juliana when she answered the phone.

“What’s up what’s up?” said Gabriela Geter from the other side of the country.

“Not much, you know, just walking through the airport about to catch my plane to Texas.” said Juliana, excited.

“Oh it’s today?” asked Gabriela, “Wow time has gone by really fast!”

“Gabs I am so nervous,” said Juliana as she walked down the stairs, “What if it’s not, you know, good? What if he sees me and he just I don’t know, doesn’t like my ankles?”

“Ok stop,” said Gabriela with an attitude, “Look, if this guy didn’t like you as much as he does he wouldn’t be doing all this for you. And even if something does happen, you can bet I will find him and beat him up. Nobody messes with you without having to deal with me.”

Juliana talked to Gabriela as she made her way through the airport. She passed a bathroom and was instantly overcome with the need to go. Whenever she was anxious or nervous, her bladder and her feelings decided to cooperate in making her feel the most uncomfortable. The need to be at the gate ready to board and to get a few extra minutes with her friend made her focus on something other than the toilet. Juliana reached the gate and realized they were going to start boarding the plane soon.

“Gabs I think I better go just to make sure I hear when they call my number,” Juliana said into the phone.

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“Oh ok. Well call me when you land,” said Gabriela calmly, “and stop worrying. Bye.”

The gate was packed with people. Juliana stared at those around her. Lots of people were crowded around the power outlets charging phones and computers. The girl with the white top and the jean shorts charging her phone was really entertaining. Every time her phone would vibrate, an annoyed expression would come over her face. Her clothes were really nice and that just made Juliana stare down at her own clothes and debate whether this was the appropriate attire for seeing your boyfriend.

Her phone buzzed and she snapped out of her superficial dilemma. She had a text from Jacob which just made her smile: “Just make sure you get on that plane and don’t let any terrorist keep you from getting here. I’m here waiting.”

She was about to respond but the voice from the heavens announced it was time to board the plane. She diligently took out her boarding pass and listened as they called the different letters to enter the plane. It was a new experience to fly with an airline that let you pick whatever seat you wanted. It seemed a little disorganized but nobody else seemed to mind. When the voice announced that “B” group should start boarding, she walked over to the column that had her number on it and stood there waiting until the line began to move.

Juliana adjusted her bag and walked with her boarding pass in hand, ready to give it in. As she handed her boarding pass to the airline worker, everything started to feel very unreal. She entered the tunnel to enter the plane with a very calm attitude and just walked straight on until she was aboard the plane. She made her way through the narrow isle between the seats and for some reason felt the need to sit in the back of the plane. This proved good for two things: getting a window seat and a prime location near the restroom.

She sat in her seat and sent a quick message to her uncle telling him she was sitting in the plane. There were still people boarding and she was sure the middle and isle seats next to her would not be empty much longer. She took out her phone again and texted Jacob telling him she was on the plane in a seat near the butt of the plane. It only took a minute for the screen to show she had a new message. He apologized for getting her such a crappy seat but she just responded that it had been her choice to sit there.

During the texting, two guys had sat next to her. They shared the interaction all passengers share on an airplane with their neighbors, a smile acknowledging their presence and that is that. Juliana continued texting and the two guys kept talking about some sort of sport. A few minutes after they had sat down, the announcement was made to turn off all electronic devices. Juliana texted Jacob telling him that she had to turn off the phone and that she was nervous. He responded instantly: 130

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“Nothing is between us now. We’ve been counting months and weeks and days and now it’s just down to a couple of hours.”

After reading the text, she turned off her phone and sat back in her seat looking out the window. It was always a thrill when airplanes took off. How they would gain speed and for a few minutes, everyone in the plane experienced that strange adrenaline rush that only airplanes can give you. Juliana had never been scared of airplanes and take off was her favorite part. So as she sat and stared out into the dark night, the plane to San Antonio, Texas started speeding up until it was airborne. All the passengers seemed to loosen up as the aircraft turned southwest for the destination to be straight ahead.

The plane ride was quiet and Juliana decided to calm her nerves by reading. She was halfway done with her english reading assignment and decided to finish the book on the plane. She simply put in her earphones and took out her aunt’s Nook. As she read, she would take some time to look out the window at the darkness that surrounded the plane. Part of her wished the plane would hurry up but she was really glad for this time she got to become calm and composed. Inside her, emotions were stirring. Anyone around her would have thought she was relaxed and, aside from the discomfort of the guy next to her invading her personal space with his legs, that was all they would have seen. It was the simple fact that each mile was a mile closer to San Antonio that distracted her from reading.

--------- It had been a year and 2 days since they had seen each other. They had met last summer and had started sending messages back in August. Her whole first semester had been pretty much sleep deprived since she would stay up late talking to Jacob. They could talk for hours and she just couldn’t go one night without talking to him. She preferred looking like a walking zombie the next day than missing a call.

Back then, Jacob had started the process to enter the Navy. He had gone to the recruiter and through MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station). Everything had been set in place and those first few months, he was just waiting to leave to boot camp. He had a set date to leave in March and while he waited, he would hang out with his friends and play music. Occasionally in the calls he would be working on his music and was playing the guitar as they talked.

The time felt like it was passing fast for Juliana but not for Jacob. He became frustrated with wanting to leave and do something. When the date got closer, he started acting weird towards her. It became routine for the calls, that had once been filled with talking,to stay quiet until someone uttered a goodbye. He would lash out and say the wrong things. Juliana felt like he was doing it to hurt her and was getting tired of it. Two nights before he left, they talked about what had been happening lately between them and decided that while Jacob was in boot camp, they would take a break.

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She breathed again. There was no one making her feel bad and she decided to take the next two months as a time to get over him. He was probably going to come back and break up with her anyway so why hold on to anything. She spent a lot of time with her friends and was keeping her mind off Jacob. She wasn’t over him though. She tried to trick herself into thinking she was but in reality, she was just blocking the feelings out. She might have seemed fine in her exterior but inside an epic battle was occurring between what she wanted and the actual feelings that were still there.

Two weeks after Jacob had left, the first two envelopes of letters arrived. Juliana read every letter more than once. There was a letter for every day he had been gone and some of them involved an apology. Juliana felt confused at the beginning. She couldn’t decide if this was some sort of joke and was scared it would go back to how it was before. Yet, the more she read, the more she knew the break was over. Jacob had admitted he had been difficult before he left and that just showed Juliana that it was okay to trust him again.

From that moment on, Juliana wrote a letter every day and would send them in up to 4 different envelopes. Letters were sent backwards and forwards for two months before Jacob finished boot camp. Juliana was almost done with school and he was sent to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio.

----------- The plane was quiet and Juliana still hadn’t gone to the bathroom. It was always awkward for Juliana to ask the two people sitting next to her on a plane to move. It wasn’t because she was shy but because it seemed every time she went to the bathroom on a plane, everyone stared at her. It must be because everyone knows that if someone is getting up in the middle of the flight, they are about to use the restroom. This wasn’t the exception. Juliana turned and faced the two guys next to her, who, as if reading her mind, started putting their tray tables up and their computers away. They stepped out into the aisle and as she squeezed past them, she muttered a soft thank you.

The strategic location of her seat allowed her only to have to be looked upon by 5 rows of strangers as she went to the bathroom. She was already beneath the arch that separated the small room with the beverages and stewardess chairs, when she saw the occupied sign on the bathroom door. Technically she was supposed to sit down and wait in her chair, but Juliana wasn’t about to go through that after having made those near her somewhat uncomfortable and enduring 5 rows of stares. The two flight attendants sat in their chairs, one reading and the other doing a crossword puzzle. They looked up at her and smiled before going back to their activities. Taking this as their approval, she stood next to the arch and waited for the person in the bathroom to be done with their business.

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still hadn’t been fully overcome with the idea that she was here, in the back of a plane, waiting for her turn in the bathroom. Everything seemed to be passing too fast and yet, her nerves never seemed to subside. Juliana felt giddy, which is not exactly a word you would use to describe a person who is waiting their turn for the restroom in an airplane.

From afar she seemed like she had to go to the bathroom urgently and was happy it was almost her turn because she kept changing her position all the time and every other minute, a smile would creep into her lips.

When the middle aged man got out of the bathroom, Juliana gave him an acknowledging smile, then darted past him into the bathroom. Aside from taking care of the obvious, she got a look of herself in the mirror. She fixed the back of her dirty blonde hair and made sure her eyes weren’t melting from the makeup she had decided to wear.

She only wore makeup for special occasions and wasn’t exactly the best at putting it on.

She made sure her light blue dress wasn’t too wrinkled and when she was reassured she didn’t look scruffy, she left the restroom.

Juliana stepped out of the bathroom and saw a small boy jumping from foot to foot with his father behind him. The boy didn’t need any sort of help and just sped past her into the bathroom as if his life depended on it. She walked back out to the row of seats and when she found her seat again, smiled down at the two guys who quickly stood up to let her sit down again. Juliana spent a few minutes looking out the window even though all she saw was darkness and some tiny lights down below.

---------- Sometimes it felt like the only ones that were the most supportive about all this were either her cousins or her friends. Juliana understood why her parents couldn’t be and her aunt and uncle showed their support in their own way. It was obvious that almost everyone in her family had their reservations about this trip.

Her cousins had given her a hard time before, but the Monday before her trip they decided it would be a great idea to take her out to dinner. Juliana knew there was more than met the eye involving this dinner but she wasn’t about to say no to her cousins. That afternoon after they had all gotten back from work, they all went to an italian restaurant in Howards Square.

They sat in the restaurant and drifted from topic to topic not really having a fixed one. For a few minutes Juliana thought that maybe she had been wrong about her cousins intentions and she just sat back and relaxed. That took a total of about ten minutes. At least they waited for the waitress to bring the bread basket before they brought up the truth behind the al edged cousin dinner.

“Juli, the reason we have brought you here tonight is because you are going to San Antonio on Friday and we just felt we needed to sit down and give you a talk.” said her cousin Erika.

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Juliana stared at them with her “I knew this wasn’t just a cousin dinner” look. They wanted to give her another talk. That was all anybody had been doing all summer. Her sixty year old aunt tried to communicate the message that guys and girls think differently, and that what she was expecting from this trip might be very different from what he was expecting. Then Erika and Marcy had each had given her talks during the summer concerning the same topic.

Even Erika’s husband had been having talks with her on the rides back home from work but he had a way of subtly saying things. In total, all The Talks she had received in the past month far outweighed the ones she had received back home. Her parents were more concerned about her running into a gang and knew her enough to know The Talk was not needed.

“Like I was saying the other night,” said her cousin Marcy taking a bite of her food, “don’t let anyone pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

“I know this might not mean much to you guys,” said Juliana calmly, “but I know myself enough and I know him. What you guys are insinuating is the last thing on our minds.”

“Juli, we aren’t saying any of this to scare you,” said Erika staring right at her, “You are our baby cousin and as family, we need to protect you but from the bottom of our hearts, we are hoping you will go and have an amazing time.”

Her family was just concerned and that was understandable. Her friends on the other hand were a different story. From the day she got to school and told everyone her parents had said yes, they had all been excited and supportive. These, after all, were the people who she talked to about him. Even during the summer when she was away from everyone, they kept asking about the trip. The closer the date had gotten, the more they seemed excited and helped quench any sort of doubt in her mind.

Usually, Juliana would comment anything with her friend Daniela. The night before the trip it only seemed reasonable that Juliana would want to call as she packed her small suitcase. So as clothes were being thrown into the bag, she Skyped with Daniela.

“I am kind of scared,” said Juliana as she moved stuff around in the bag,“ but I am excited more than anything. I hope he is excited as well.”

“Juli,” said Daniela calmly, “He has been waiting for this as much as you have and I seriously doubt you have anything to worry about.”

“I know,” said Juliana as she threw a shirt into her bag, “I just want everything to work out perfectly.”

“Trust me,” said Daniela, “it will be whatever you want it to be.”

Contrary to her cousins, Daniela wasn’t expecting the hounds of teenage hormone hell to arise. This is when it was nice to talk about the trip. When there was no sort of connotation in the conversation and no one thought she was possessed by some sort of crazy feline that would prowl at the sight of any sort of inclination. No matter how many times everyone said how mature she was for her age, they thought her maturity was far outweighed by what her pituitary gland dictated.

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------------------- “Ladies and gentlemen we would like to thank you for flying Southwest and hope your stay in San Antonio, Texas is...” announced the voice from the speakers on the plane.

Juliana couldn’t believe it. Here she was, in Texas, about to see Jacob after a whole year.

That’s when the shaking began. It was the same kind of shaking she got in every piano recital.

Her body only experienced these kinds of nerves when she played in front of people, and, being the same kind of nerves, it decided to stick to shaking what it knew: her hands. She started getting her stuff together and was shaking as if she was cold. The two guys who had sat next to her smiled at her. During the descent of the plane they had started talking and she had told them all about why she had decided to venture to San Antonio. There is just something about spending three hours on a plane and only speaking to your neighbors the last thirty minutes that has its charm, isn’t there?

Juliana knew that as soon as the plane stopped, people would spring up from their seats like toasts jumping out of a toaster. On an airplane you are supposed to sit tight and wait for the sign of the belt to be turned off. Most people had unbuckled their belts the minute the plane had touched the ground and the fear of dying became a little less important. Juliana just sat in her seat with her belt unbuckled and waited for the swarm of people to start moving before making any attempt to get up.

After the really anxious people on the plane were off, the rest of the passengers proceeded to exit the aircraft. Juliana wouldn’t admit it but she wanted to be one of the last to get off the plane. As much as it felt like she was ready for what could happen as soon as she saw Jacob, her shaking told her otherwise. She gathered up her bag and walked down the aisle of the plane. The crew was waiting at the end and she smiled and said thank you. She felt like Rose in the final scene in Titanic when Rose comes back to the Titanic in a dream and she is surrounded by a swarm of people smiling.

Juliana walked with determination out of the tunnel connecting the plane to the airport building. It was pretty empty and one could tell this was the last flight to arrive that night since everything was shut down. Juliana looked around as she walked down the corridor surrounded by stores and eating places. She thought maybe if she distracted herself, her hands would stop shaking and she would at least appear to be normal.

She needed more time and as if her little bathroom adventure on the plane hadn’t emptied her bladder, she went into the women’s bathroom at the airport. She really did have to pee again but after getting that taken care of, she washed her hands and made sure she still looked decent. Juliana decided her hair was starting to look shabby and opted for combing it before finally just staring at herself. This is it. No matter what, she was doing this and no amount of shaking hands was going to stop her. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and adjusted a loose strand of hair, she knew it was time to get this over with.

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The San Antonio airport had a big banner welcoming the troops home right before Juliana exited the corridor with all the different gates. It was a very particular entrance made of metal and with little windows on the side. The sign just reminded her that San Antonio really was a military destination and that Jacob was part of the Navy. But those thoughts about the military, her hair, and doubts, disappeared the moment one of the small little windows gave her a glimpse of him.

Now if only the very chatty and very slow people in front of her would hurry up, the glimpse she got would come into full view. She stepped through the door frame and the biggest smile came into her face. There was no straight path towards Jacob but she just wanted to run the few steps that were between them. Sure, she had to dodge a blonde woman who got in the way of her little run and might have looked like she was about to trip, but it didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t matter. For once her mind was completely silent and her only focus was to get to Jacob. He was smiling and when she was two steps away from him, he extended his arms.

Juliana crashed into Jacob and felt herself be lifted from the ground, and any sort of worries, doubts, or warnings became a thing of the past.

Catalina Chaves - 11th Grade

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So Close Yet So Distant Emiliana Pacheco - AP Language and Composition - Grade 11

Leaving your country, your friends, your family, and everything that you have ever known is not easy. Escaping to a new region was the only was my eyes were able to see this move.

Why else would I have a reason to go if not because someone was after my family and me?

That was not the reason, but sometimes I wish it were. I’m not going to deny it, because the only thing I thought when leaving was how was I ever going to get over the fact that I’m not only leaving my country, but also my school. My family is going to stick to me forever but are my friends going to do the same. How am I supposed to know that? They might say that distance does not make the difference when you have real friends, but I almost get the feeling that say that when the distance is only three blocks away.

They told me I was leaving almost five days before the school year was over. I was at friend’s goodbye pool party, because she was leaving too, but she was going to the States.

I never thought that I was going to leave, well the Colombian school had told me that they had good news, because there was room for one more student. My parents saw that as if they had won the lottery, but in my eyes, it was my ticket to hell. I did not even get time to be sad, and it might sound selfish but my friends did not get enough time either. Is not that I want for them to be sad, not ever, but the feeling that people don’t get time to say a proper goodbye made me nervous. Who knows maybe even those people that were not my friends found out I left the next first day of school when I wasn’t there. Maybe that goodbye I would have received from any person at all might have change things, and even make me now not look back to the past and just into the future.

It just might be my luck and my destiny to move to Colombia, that was the only thing in my mind, or at least what I hope it would be. Soon I would be going on vacation, just to leave the country and to not think about the move. How selfish am I to go on vacations and leave my friends, when I could just stay. I also thought how selfish were my friends for going on vacations when I was leaving. My head was a mess. I just did not know why this luck had to be mine. The only thing keeping me alive, was that I was going to camp with one of my best friends. Getting in that plane just to leave the country for two weeks, and seeing how hurtful it was, made me not want to leave even more.

It was hard to imagine my life in Bogota because I had only gone there to visit.

The day finally came. Packing was not all for nothing, well I had to finally get my butt to the Maiquetia Airport Caracas. Something had made be more positive and I almost started picturing as a good thing for my family and me. It was a fresh new start; I could be a totally different person. This thought made the plane ride not as hard, but really I wasn’t able to think it was an hour plane ride its not as if was going to China or Australia. That fact also made me cheer. It was that at least I was going to a place where they speak my same language and have a similar culture as mine. My sister waited for me at the airport, just knowing that I had my sister was a plus, well I was entering the school not knowing anyone.

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I was excited about entering a new school up until I had my first class, until I got to know the people. It is not that they were mean, but they did not open up to me. Never being through that experience of being new, I did not know what to expect, and I really do not know why I thought people were going to be nice. I suffered, I really did. I do not know how I got through it. My first lunch I sat with my sister, she had already made friends. Just to recall my second lunch makes me teary eyed, even when I tell it to people. “I ate in the bathroom all by myself.” In my mind that only happened in movies, but it happened to me. How was I supposed to ask my sister to sit with her junior friends when I was only a freshman? I guess I was not courageous enough to stand up from that silly bathroom go to my sister or to anyone from my grade. With no good luck, I got stroke by lightning.

I cried myself to sleep the first two months. I was not even able to control my fury towards my parents. I had no reason to be mad. It is not their fault we lived in a country where no progress was going on. Once I even had to tell my feelings to my dad. I do not recall what troughed me of the edge so much. The only thing I remember was I just telling him how he ruined my life, how I had no friends, how I had no life, and how those six hours of school I suffered. I know what I did and said was wrong. Nevertheless, I do not know what my parents expected, for me to be happy about our move. It sounds so cheesy and cliché, and it is, but leaving the country you have always known as your home, the place where all your family and all your friends live is hard. I know I have not even lived half my life, but I know is one of the hardest things I will ever have to do.

As time passed, I had no other choice than to start liking it, or at least dealing with it.

I was not planning living four years of my high school with fury against my classmates. One day I started hanging with out with people other than myself in school. It was approximately my second week, and I guess we could say I found some “friends.” You know when you sit in a circle, everyone is talking, and there is that one person who is totally disoriented? Well, that was me. Everybody was sharing stories, talking about the party they went to that weekend, while the only company I had that weekend was my dad. Recalling it, I guess I was only there so I did not have to eat lunch all by myself. I sat there and two months went by, it was as never ending conversation.

Another factor that made me even more melancholic was the fact that my sister was having such a great time. I used to think it was so selfish, for me to think that, and it was, but what was I supposed to do. The only friend I really had at that time was my sister. Obviously she did not spend all her time with me, why would she. She spends half of her time (I am exaggerating). I went to school, home, school, home, this was my daily schedule and in weekends, it was home. No plans came to my mind, even if I had to go as an individual or with my dad. At the time, I did not understand, but I guess there was no one there to show me what cool things one could do in the city.

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I could have been much worse, or at least that is what I think. I do not really know how much worse it could have gotten. “Maybe I am over reacting,” this is what it told to myself.

Maybe I was not the one letting people in. I had to be more open up to my fellow classmates, showing them my personality so they got to like me. I was not myself around these people.

When I tried to open up, I was all shy and that is not me at all, I guess that they intimidated me. In addition, I thought why did I have to be the one to open up? Why me and not I know I am the new girl and all, but the people that have been studying at this school for around ten years should show me around, present themselves, anything but not just leave me hanging.

When I found out that I was moving to Colombia I guess I was not really nervous.

Everyone had always said that Colombians were nice and good. All of that is true they are nice, good, friendly and all the other synonyms to that, but they like to keep a distance. I was not the only one who thought this, my mom as well. She realized that people might be all nice, but they are not the kind of people that would invite you to their house and bring you in. I guess the stereotype fooled me. In my time in Colombia I got to meet people from Barranquilla and Cartagena, they were more open, more like Venezuelans.

As time went by, I started making, real friend. I guess someone was finally opening up. They invited me to their house, and my daily schedule started to change, or at least it did on Fridays. I went to some parties. However, I always saw photos on Facebook of other parties I did not attend. I stopped whining about my life. I guessed some people did have it worse.

It wasn’t just me that stayed at home every Friday through Saturday, but all those kids that have been at this school for around ten years. I started realizing I wasn’t the only one, but there were more kids like me at this school some people call Colegio Nueva Granada, but I like to refer to it as hell. I was getting to find myself amongst all those people, finding friends and the same times enemies (not really). It took me a long time to realize why I did not have as much friends as my sister. Well she came to “Orientation Day,” and as it says it this day helps to orientate, I didn’t. My sister told how that helped her so much, she met all her friends, the even gave her something they call a buddy. She met the new and the old people of the school, her first day was easy piecy lemon squeezy, or at least that is how she made it seem. In her Orientation Day, she met two Venezuelans, and they ended up being her best friends all the way through graduation. That was an up site for her. She started her first day already with two friends. I just asked to myself what if I hadn’t been in camp? I would have gotten in time for Orientation Day, and even get to my first day of school with at least one friend.

I don’t know why I kept comparing myself to my sister. We are not the same person, we don’t even look alike physically and when it came to our personalities, we were totally opposites. I just couldn’t help myself, I don’t know why it was just the way I dealt with it. Nevertheless, I manage to get through those horrible days at school with no problem.

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So what was I saying? Oh, right friends. I guess I did fine. After all some people do worse. I don’t think from my first day or even my first year I was a friend with who are my friends at the moment. Nevertheless, I am getting ahead of myself. I was saying how I started going to parties, well that might be an exaggeration I think in my first year or at least the first semester I went to around two parties, three tops. At the end of the day, it is not how much parties you attend to that makes you who you are.

Someday I was going to integrate my self into society, and I finally thought of a way to do it. It is what they call at this school CWW (Classroom Without Walls) but I just thought of it as a break from school and as time to spend quality time with my classmates, and even make new friends. I was all excited, well I was going to the Amazons how much more exciting can it get. Well through the end of the trip I didn’t thought it was as exciting, but I won’t get ahead of myself, I will tell you the whole story from beginning to end.

First of all they divided the whole group of students into two, because taking 180 kids all together would be a mess, or at least with these kids. I was in the group A, the more quiet down, more shy kids of my grade, those were my people. As we got to the airport in Leticia, I was excited everyone was being nice and I just felt in me that it was going to be some good vacations and a break for school. We ate, talked, did all the airport kind of paperwork, etc. Later on they told us how they had to make us into two new groups, so I signed in the one I though my “friends” were. I was kind of tricked, they left me in the other group with the people I didn’t really now wasn’t either friends with. This might not come out right, but in life, there is a hierarchical order, a pyramid, and in that moment, I felt in the very, very bottom of it. I felt betrayed, but I really don’t know why, at the end of the day it is not as we were best friends, but I hoped this trip was going to make some strong bonds with my classmates.

I have to take in count this was already about February of 2011. I had been in this country and in this school for more than six months now. It’s not that I still was the new girl, but I felt like people looked at me and though that. Maybe they just didn’t thought I existed or just that I didn’t go to the trip, the point is that they did not take me in count. By this far into the school year, I had only one strong relationship, and she didn’t attend this trip so I was forever alone, no one to go to if I faced any trouble in this gigantic jungle. At least I wasn’t the only one left out in the other group, so was my friend Barbara. Once again, I can see how people at this school weren’t just mean to new people but also to the old ones. She didn’t really care, I was the only one who took this seriously, she must have thought I was an attention freak or maybe just a freak. This entire trip I suffered, first with the fact I am not a jungle kind of girl and second I disliked the group, the point is that nothing was on my favor.

I came back from that trip, I think with even more anger against these people. At least I had my sister and my mom, and well yeah, my good friend I mentioned earlier.

I was back home, well not home but in Bogota. Finally, that one week in the Amazons that was supposed to be great felt like a month to me. You know what they say, 140

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time passes by fast when you are having fun but it is exactly the opposite when you are not.

I came back with around one hundred mosquito bites, and I’m just rounding the number down. Some people came back with so many good stories and anecdotes, and I feel like I came back with only nightmares, but well who cares, I had to get over it, and that took me about five minutes. Ironic to say that when in the moment I shed enough tears that could sum up to the Indian Ocean.

Bogota welcomed me warmly after that horrible trip. In addition, when I arrived, my parents got the best news ever. Our horses had arrived. I don’t know if I previously mentioned this, but me and my family do horseback riding and we have been waiting about six months for them to arrive. Now I had something to do with my life, altering my schedule once again. Finally our horses were here, nothing could make me happier. The way I thought of it, was as one more friend to the list.

I do have to admit that through the end of 9th grade I was already starting to like it, but I would go back any time. In those summer vacations that I went from 9th to 10th grade, I started to realize how lucky I am. Venezuela everyday has been getting worse and worse. I used to live in an unpredictable and unbalanced place, now I don’ t always have to be aware of what is going on, or who is behind me. I do have more freedom, and as much time as it took me to realize that my moving to Colombia was for my own good, now I know it and I couldn’t be more grateful for the family I got. I guess they were not the only one to won the lottery. I was too.

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Fear Callie Cambell - AP Language and Composition - Grade 10

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Running out of Air Camila Preciado - AP Language and Composition - Grade 9

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Catalina Chaves - Pre AP 2D Design 11th Grade

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