April 2017

Grant Magazine grantmagazine.com

April 2017

Amazing Grace

Historically, students with disabilities have been excluded from general education classes.

That hasn’t stopped Grace Kowitch.

Pg. 8

By Georgia Greenblum

In this issue...

8

On the cover: amazing grace

By Georgia Greenblum

Finding her own space in general education classes, Grace Kowitch is not confined by her disability.

Photo by Mako Barmon • Cover photo by Finn Hawley-Blue

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time with: Danny fisher

Rapping The Setbacks

The Unknown Talent

After recently moving from South Carolina to Portland, yo-yoing remains a constant for freshman Danny Fisher.

How freshman Damarhea Taylor turned his depression into meaningful song lyrics.

Junior Sam Hough is a globallyrecognized competitive PokĂŠmon player.

But he used to stick to the shadows.

By Kali Rennaker

2

24

Grant Magazine

By Narain Dubey

By Ella Weeks

29

26

32

going against the flow

the alumni profile

Afterthoughts

Nika Bartoo-Smith has made it her goal to address something that’s rarely discussed in our society: menstruation.

At Grant, Alumna Sally Struthers was just like any other student. Now, she’s a widely acclaimed, award-winning actress.

The author reflects on her bond with her mother, in times of sickness and health.

By Sydney Jones

18

By Toli Tate

going the distance

By Charlotte Klein

Photo by Momoko Baker

By Momoko Baker and Ari Tandan

How will the daily commute to the Marshall campus next year affect Grant’s student body?

April 2017

3

Quick Mag

A condensed version of Grant Magazine that has almost nothing to do with just about anything else.

The

The mini profile: lucas and dylan Cooking means more than just boxed mac and cheese for these Grant seniors.

By Blu Midyett On a recent Sunday morning, Lucas Cansler and Dylan Helkey are preparing breakfast, but it’s not eggs and toast or pancakes for these Grant seniors. Eggs benedict with braised pork belly and pickled carrots is on the menu today.

Together, the two started an instagram page in December that boasts nearly 900 followers named “extremehomecooking,” where they post their culinary creations, from peanut butter panna cotta to Shoyu ramen with bacon.

Helkey and Cansler were only acquaintances until they discovered each other’s passions for cooking and decided they had to work together. For the most part, the page is for fun, but they both agree that

the connections formed through cooking are unlike any other.

While Cansler doesn’t plan on becoming a paid chef, he hopes to cook his whole life. “It’s just such a natural thing. I can enjoy it without having to think about it,” he says Cansler. Helkey, on the other hand, is currently working at Multnomah Falls Lodge as a line cook and next year is attending the Culinary Institute of America, the #1 ranked culinary school in the country.

“Without cooking I don’t know where in the world I’d be,” says Helkey. “I don’t fit in in a lot of places and when I go into work and I’m in the kitchen with those people cooking, it’s the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

grant h.s. vs. high school musical

quick mag

Vs.

grant poll:

If it was possible, would you have your body cryogenically frozen so that you could live in the future?

61% no

24% 15% Yes unsure

Data collected from 180 votes on grantmagazine.com

The pink tiles give a retro feel but poor lighting and toilet paper in the background aren’t always the most pleasing to the eye. These selfies are a great way to express the highs and lows of class or just flaunt your outfit of the day.

Grant Magazine

Tagline

“We’re all in this together”

Denim, fishnets under jeans, Blundstones, chokers

Student Fashion

Glittery, colorful, layered clothing

Turn up time at assemblies

Celebration Style

Breaking out into song

Lyris Davis, sophomore “It was third grade, and after school I was riding my scooter ... parents were picking up kids, and it was raining ... I tried to make this turn, I slid and fell.

One of my friends’ mom was like, ‘Hey are you okay?’ And I was like ‘I’m good, I’m just crying.’”

Maiya Stasiek, freshman “I fell down the stairs once. It was the first week of school. I tripped on the basement stairs and like rolled down. It was right in the middle of passing time. I tripped on my foot, it was one of those tripon-my-foot nervous moments, it was like the second day or something.”

Jack Barrett, sophomore “It was in Spanish class, and we were doing a song, there was a female part and a male part ... When it was the girls turn I sang really loud, and the teacher stopped the music, and everyone looked right at me.”

BY THE NUMBERS: rose festival edition

Data according to Rich Jarvis of the Portland Rose Festival Foundation

By Jessica Griepenburg

By Isabel Lickey

4

“Generals L.E.A.D.”

By Isabel Lickey

By Ella Weeks

“I want students to be honest and real with me,” says Nicole Watson, a math teacher at Grant. For her, it matters less if students like the subject than if they put in effort to learn. “I like them to be respectful,” she says. Watson says she loves to see students put in effort to build community, in and out of the class. And if all else fails, “you can bring (me) coffee,” she says. “And laugh at my math jokes.”

Wildcats

What was your most embarrassing moment at school?

review: bathroom selfies

how to: get on a teacher’s good side

Mascot

talk back:

if we treated school like social media

By Julian Wyatt

Generals

The average number of flowers used on one float

The total number of weeks it takes to build a float

The year of the first rose festival

The number of Grant Rose Queens

In My Opinion

contact us

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Editors-IN-CHIEF Sarah Hamilton Sophie Hauth Finn Hawley-Blue Molly Metz Blu Midyett Kali Rennaker

DEsign Editor Julian Wyatt

Online editor Charlotte Klein

Video editor

Mackie Mallison

editorial page editor Dylan Palmer

Editorial Policy

We encourage the community to participate in our publication. Grant Magazine accepts guest editorials, letters to the editors and corrections.

Please include your name and contact information with any submissions.

I

Not My Precedent

Trump poses a threat to our nation’s culture of politics.

n first grade, I was assigned to do a project on the career that I wanted to pursue when I was older. Other students in my class did their projects on becoming firefighters, singers or authors. I did mine on being the President of the United Dylan Palmer States.

Even at 6 years old, the United States presidency absolutely fascinated me. The president had the power to make decisions that nobody else in the country could. Teachers and parents laughed at my dream of being president, but to me, it wasn’t a joke.

When I was 10 years old, my passion for politics intensified when Barack Obama was elected, becoming the nation’s first black president. I decided that all future presidents, maybe myself included, should govern with the grace that he did.

But the election of Donald Trump last November shattered my idea of what it means to be the president.

His campaign was littered with controversy and dishonesty, and his term thus far has been nothing short of disastrous. He is not a man who I, nor the rest of this nation’s aspiring politicians, can look up to.

What scares me the most is that Trump’s first weeks in office represent a transformation of American politics. He has the ability to set a new precedent by lowering voters’ expectations of their politicians and trivializing the importance of factual evidence.

Although our current presidential administration is certainly an anomaly, presidential dishonesty and scandals aren’t anything new.

In 1974, Richard Nixon resigned from the presidency after he ordered his aides to break into the Democratic National Committee’s headquarters at Watergate Hotel. Presidential candidate Gary Hart was forced to drop out of the 1988 presidential race after it was revealed he was cheating on his wife with a model. In 1998, the House of Representatives impeached Bill Clinton when he lied about having an affair with a 22-year-old White House employee.

Since President Trump announced his candidacy, he’s been accused of walking in on naked Miss Teen USA contestants, and he’s admitted to sexually assaulting women on tape. Ties have been drawn between his administration and the Russian government, resulting in a growing controversy that could match Watergate in scale.

In addition, Trump and his administration have become notorious for lying. Politifact, a factchecking site, finds that 70% of the statements President Trump makes are false to some degree. On that same scale, both Hillary Clinton and President Obama come out at 26%.

Several times, Trump has stated that he lost the popular vote because millions of people voted illegally, when in reality there is only evidence of four cases of voter fraud in the 2016 elections. In late January, he boasted that his inauguration was the most well-attended of all time, yet data from the National Park Service shows that far fewer people were at his inauguration than Obama’s in 2008.

The majority of presidents have lied, and many presidents like Nixon, Clinton and Democratic candidate Hart have been a part of major scandals. But what sets Trump apart is the lack of consequences.

The president has encountered no threats of impeachment by the House of Representatives and little criticism from Republican leadership. Leftleaning news sources have thoroughly arraigned the president, but Trump has responded by labelling their networks as “fake news.”

If Trump continues to get away with everything he does, what’s stopping other politicians from inciting hatred? What’s stopping other politicians from waging a war against the media or the federal courts? What’s stopping other politicians from catering to feelings rather than reality?

While most Grant High School students experience fear and concern around Trump, some say that the changes the Trump presidency has caused are not all harmful in the long term.

“I think in a way it’s made me want to go into politics even more because I feel like politics have become corrupted … It kind of makes me want to join so I can make a difference,” says sophomore Leul Wubshet.

As I witness the nation’s politics shifting everyday before my eyes, I realize that it’s my responsibility now more than ever to get involved. Although the future of American politics feels uncertain, I plan to to study political science in college.

I know that this country needs a diverse generation of community members running for office who are knowledgeable and qualified. We need people who will push us in the direction of morality, truth and unity ­– integral values of politics. We need politicians who can be role models for our youth.

We need to start prioritizing reality and facts over feelings and biases toward political parties.

To all the young people out there who may be upset by what’s going on in politics right now, remember this: We are the future politicians, lobbyists, lawyers, judges and voters.

We can’t know for sure what the future of politics will look like, but we can do everything possible to steer it in the right direction. ◆ Dylan Palmer is a senior and editorial page editor for Grant Magazine.

April 2017

5

Editorial

O

n February 27, senior Bex Goshorn opened the door to the genderneutral bathroom in the basement of Grant High School. As they stepped into the stall, they saw it.

Scrawled onto the wall in black marker, the graffiti read: “The fag(g)ots who use this restroom are going to burn in hell” and “your gay ass is gonna get shot.”

Goshorn, who is gender non-binary and uses they/them pronouns says, “Whoever wrote that hate took away my freedom and forced me into an uncomfortable situation.”

Goshorn took a picture of the graffiti and rushed to a nearby art teacher’s classroom to tell them about it. By the end of the day, the writing had been painted over and reported to the administration.

An entire week later, there was no public response from the administration about the graffiti. But talk of the incident was gaining traction on social media. Students posted concerned messages on Facebook, some angered that one of their classmates could write such a thing, others fearful for their well being.

The lack of response from the administration around this incident and other recent events raises serious concerns surrounding communication and decision-making at Grant High School.

When local news stations published stories about the graffiti incident on March 7, students at Grant were shocked that they hadn’t heard anything from the administration.

“We didn’t purposefully not say anything to try to hide it or to push it under the rug,” says Principal Carol Campbell on the graffiti incident. She claims they were waiting for “an opportune time to address the community,” and “wanted to complete a little bit of an investigation.”

But the wait was not received well by students. “The amount of time that the administration was silent kind of sent out a dangerous message for me,” says senior Lior Gevurtz, who identifies as gender-fluid and uses they/them pronouns, adding that the administration’s silence “expressed the message that they don’t care. That it’s not a big enough deal.”

Senior Bobbie McMahon, who identifies as gender-fluid and uses they/them pronouns, agrees. “We didn’t hear it from the

6

Grant Magazine

Listen Up

The administration needs to do a better job of acting in the interest of the student body.

school … and I feel like hearing through the grapevine was worse,” says McMahon. “I’d rather have the facts, even if they are bad, than pretending that they don’t exist.”

Other recent incidents have left students at Grant feeling like the administration isn’t thinking about how their decisions affect students.

On March 8, the “Culture of Consent” posters put up around the school to raise awareness around sexual assault were removed from the walls with little explanation.

The same day students were told they could not put up signs to promote “Period Week,” a movement to destigmatize menstruation and offer free menstrual hygiene products to students.

The reasoning behind both decisions was to prevent potential vandalism and from the issue becoming trivialized. They instead wanted to encourage students to try a more informative approach. But what message does this send to students about how much the school values consent or the menstruation movement?

Junior Zoe Estep-Shaw, who was involved with the Culture of Consent and Period Week campaigns and identifies as female and uses she/her pronouns, thinks these actions show that the administration focuses too much on sheltering students rather than sparking discussions on the issues. “It frankly makes me feel disappointed that they don’t trust

us enough or think we have the capability to deal with it,” she says, adding that she wished there had been more communication throughout the whole process.

This isn’t the only time the administration has lacked thorough communication. On March 9, Grant went into lockdown procedure. An email from PPS Communications to all parents following the lockdown said: “This morning at 10:32 a.m. Grant High School administrators issued a Lockdown Team Response due to a suspicious bag left by an unknown subject. Police were called immediately to inspect the situation.”

However, no announcements were made and no email was sent to students, leaving most to guess what had occurred that day.

Some students even thought the lockdown may have been related to the violent threats left in the gender inclusive restroom, which caused many to panic.

Had the administration given more information to students, the rumors would not have spread and students would not have been left in fear.

Many students at Grant are understandably upset. They feel left out of the conversation.

They feel like their identities and the issues they care about are not being valued, pushing some to even respond with more graffiti, like on March 13 when “DESTROY THE GENDER BINARY” and “RADICAL ANGRY QUEERS” were spray-painted onto the Grant tomb in the front of the school.

But the school has an opportunity now to show that it puts students first.

Students would like more communication on the events – good and bad – that are happening here. They would like more transparency around why the administration makes the decisions they do. And although they may be young, they would like to confront issues head-on and commit to conversations about gender and sexuality, consent and menstruation, rather than be sheltered from possible responses.

For Grant High School to succeed moving forward, there needs to be more collaboration and input from all functioning bodies of the community. While administrators may think they are making the right decisions for students, they need to be willing to listen and reflect when they are not doing it effectively. ◆

Pen & Ink

The Final Stretch

The future can be daunting, but it’s important to appreciate the present moment.

By Sarah Hamilton

For those of us in our last year of high school, this is a strange time. In just a couple months, weʼll be walking across the stage at graduation.

This year, everything has been about what happens in the future, after high school.

But for now, weʼre stuck attending classes that donʼt feel important and doing work that feels pointless.

Everybody wants to know where youʼll go, what youʼll do, who youʼll be...

Sometimes I have to take a deep breath and come back to the present moment.

Thereʼs so much uncertainty as to what the next few years will look like.

Here. At school.

With my friends.

Because before I know it,

This will all be just a memory.

April 2017

7

through grace’s eyes

Senior Grace Kowitch is making the most out of her high school experience as she breaks down stereotypes about Down syndrome.

Story by Georgia Greenblum Photos by Mako Barmon

8

Grant Magazine

o

n a recent Wednesday, senior Grace Kowitch sits in her Economics class taking steady notes about the dangers of credit card debt as her teacher, Dan Anderson, leads the class.

Kowitch, who’s wearing her signature cheetah print leggings, a ruffled t-shirt and high heels, flips her hair away from her face and fiddles

difference, from exposure to students with different learning styles and capabilities.”

For Grace Kowitch, being involved in the school community isn’t about proving something – she just wants to be seen as another student. “I love school, and it is so nice to be in general education because everyone treats me the same as everyone else,” says Kowitch.

with her bracelet.

She is the only student in the class, or in any general education class in the school, with Down syndrome. But the congenital owitch was born two weeks early on September 21, disorder that causes intellectual impairment and physical 1998, to parents Art Kowitch and Kris Anderson and her abnormalities hasn’t slowed Kowitch down. And she doesn’t older brother, Sam Kowitch. Minutes after she was born, take her education lightly. the doctor told her parents that Kowitch had Down syndrome, “I get to see all of my friends, get to meet other people I don’t leaving them scared for her future. know really,” Kowitch says. “It is fun to reach out and be part of “We had a lot of worries … socially how the world would other real classes.” treat her and would be like for her,” says Kris Anderson. “It Kowitch has taken almost all of her high school classes outside was all new and different and was certainly something we never of the special education program and is more active in the school anticipated.” community than most high school students. Dance, choir, theater, On top of this, her parents soon learned that Kowitch was born swim team, basketball – nothing is out of Kowitch’s comfort with a hole in her heart. At such a young age, surgery was a risky zone. She even mentors a younger option. But they decided to go through student with Down syndrome on their with it, and after eight days, she was speech and social skills. fully recovered. It earned Kowitch the But Kowitch is an anomaly among nickname “scrapper”– a family saying other students with Down syndrome for someone who is always up for a fight. in the school and around the country.

When Kowitch was 3 years old, her Inclusion of special needs students in parents began exploring options for general education classes is lacking early education. They wanted Kowitch despite the evidence that students gain to practice her social skills from a better social and academic skills from it. young age. The family enrolled her at Having students with Down syndrome Early Intervention, a system of services in general education enables students that provided Kowitch with the initial with special needs to learn higher help she needed through occupational -Sam Kowitch, brother material and helps combat negative and vocational therapy. The program, stereotypes held against people with which doubles as a preschool, also helps mental and physical disabilities. individuals with physical and mental Grant special education teacher, illnesses practice daily activities.

Rina Shriki, says, “It’s beneficial for After full days at the preschool, both students involved to be able to work together and get Kowitch would come home exhausted. “She was like a sponge,” different perspectives from one another. When you have multiple says Kris Anderson. “She soaked up all the new material, and perspectives, you’re gaining more awareness of a situation … We when she was on the bus, she fell asleep because she was so need to be offering diversity as learners.” tired.”

Although Grant does have an extensive special education In 2004, Kowitch began kindergarten at Laurelhurst Elementary program with three Intensive Skills classes for both medically School in Northeast Portland. At the time, the movement to fragile students and those with cognitive disabilities, there is further incorporate those with disabilities into the general student still a lack of overlap between special education and general body was in its beginning stages, and for the most part, inclusion education. Most students are secluded to the special education in the classroom at her school and across the district was few and classrooms hidden in the corner ends of the school. far between.

While Kowitch’s experience in general education classes has Historically, all students with disabilities were isolated from been mostly positive, it hasn’t always been easy. their peers in separate buildings and didn’t interact with general Locating a teacher who will accommodate to her needs, education students at all. In the 1950s and 60s, special-needs keeping up with the curriculum and finding a place in a sea of people were housed in state institutions, often times with minimal students who learn differently than her have all taken a toll on food, clothing and shelter. Physical and emotional abuse was also Kowitch. rampant throughout the sanctioned facilities and needless to say, But despite the struggles, Kowitch and her parents say that there was no form of education for the residents. inclusion is a vital aspect of special needs education.

“A lot of the students I work with now, 30 years ago, they “Grace’s social and learning skills have been enhanced by the would have been in an institution, which is really scary to think higher demands placed on her from being with typical students,” about,” says Megan Hull, a special education teacher at Grant. says Kowitch’s father, Art Kowitch. “The (general education) By 1968, the federal government had supported training for students also gain improved empathy and appreciation for just 30,000 special education teachers and related specialists. But

K

“Grace is capable of anything.”

April 2017

9

educational opportunities were still lacking for the majority of students with special needs. In 1970, U.S. schools educated only one in five children with disabilities, and many states had laws excluding certain students from school.

Since The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act was enacted by Congress in 1975, that number has slowly started to rise.

Still, even just ten years ago, many teachers and parents were outwardly opposed to the idea of inclusion, and some still are today. Kowitch’s parents remember how others complained that special education students would negatively impact their children’s education, and teachers were frustrated that the district would put special education kids in their class without any support. “Certainly there were a lot of people who were not supportive of that, but we really were,” says Art Kowitch.

Cody Sullivan, who has Down syndrome, graduated from Grant in 2014. As a high school student, he took general education classes and helped out with the football program. His mother remembers facing similar struggles around inclusion in general education classes starting when her son was in kindergarten. “We have had to fight for it,” says his mother, Anne Sullivan.

Kowitch also faced some hurdles when she began exploring different interests. In 2004, she wanted to take Taekwondo after watching her brother at practice. The instructor told Kris Anderson that he didn’t know if she “could do” Taekwondo.

Kowitch didn’t agree with him.

“I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I felt bad for myself because I thought I can’t do it,” says Kowitch as she pumps her hand into the air. “I proved it wrong, so I kick butt.”

Her older brother, Sam Kowitch, says that people don’t mean harm when they speculate about her capability to do something.

“I think they just have a general misunderstanding about Down syndrome,” says Sam Kowitch. “Grace is capable of anything.”

Kowitch came back the next week to take the class, and it wasn’t long before the instructor changed his mind. She earned herself a blue belt in the 3rd grade, and the instructor even gave

“I am going to do all the things that every other person is going to do.”

- Grace Kowitch 10 Grant Magazine

her the “Student of the Month Award.” “Grace decides she wants to do something, and she goes for it,” Kris Anderson says.

B

y middle school, Kowitch had taken her position in general education classes to the next level. She was learning Spanish with her peers, participating in the science fair and keeping up with her school work.

She had become somewhat of an inspiration for the other students in her class, and so for graduation, she was asked to give a speech for her peers.

After prepping for the speech for days, the written copy was lost the day of her 8th grade promotion. But that didn’t phase her.

Kowitch decided to just wing it. “It was an epic speech,” says Art Kowitch. “She was not the nervous one, we were.”

“I nailed it … bam, what?” says Kowitch, using her favorite catchphrase from the Disney T.V. show, “Liv and Maddie.”

During her freshman year at Grant, Kowitch continued on the same trend and took all eight general education classes – which is rare for students with disabilities – with the help of an aide.

But for her parents, it wasn’t a surprise. It was what they expected.

“Grace has always been a strong advocate for herself,” says Art Kowitch. “And with the supports in place, it enabled us to feel comfortable, reassured and reasonably optimistic about Grace’s transition to Grant.”

That same year, Kowitch joined “Team Together,” a club that helps bridge the gap between students with disabilities and those without through activities during lunch.

During one meeting when there was a discussion about kids with and without disabilities, Kowitch became exasperated. “I remember she was like, ‘What’s the difference between people with disabilities and people without disabilities?’” says Kris Anderson.

Kowitch started to realize that she should be helping out others in the same place as her. So, with the help of her private speech therapist, Kowitch was paired up with a student at Jackson Middle School, Iris Tervo, who also has Down syndrome. Kowitch started mentoring her, mainly focusing on building vocabulary, making eye contact and continuing a conversation.

Kowitch brings a vocabulary book that she received in 7th grade to the mentoring sessions and uses it to help Tervo practice her S’s and L’s.

They also take their mentoring sessions out into the community, going to Whole Foods to practice talking and making eye contact with the cashier as well as drinking, chewing and swallowing food.

When her mentee goes into “shutdown mode” where she puts her head down, Kowitch tries to cheer her up.

“Iris is a bowl of fun. Sometimes I tickle her, and sometimes

Senior Grace Kowitch actively participates in one of her only special education classes at Grant with her teacher Rina Shriki.

Whether they are making breakfast burritos or doing science experiments, Kowitch is always having a good time.

I draw a picture for her,” says Kowitch. “I help Iris with her speech, and she helps me speak slowly too.”

While Kowitch acts as a mentor for someone with Down syndrome, she herself realizes that she still has hurdles to overcome in her own learning process. After freshman year, Kowitch and her parents faced the reality that Kowitch can’t just take any classes she wants. The teacher needs to be willing to adapt their curriculum, and their interactions with Kowitch must be hyperfocused. General class requirements sometimes have to be changed, which makes finding the right class for Kowitch increasingly difficult.

T

hroughout her four years, Kowitch’s involvement in special education programs ebbed and flowed. After freshman year, she began taking some special education classes to balance the increased workload of higher level classes.

Dan Anderson, a social studies teacher at Grant, is a firm believer that teachers need to find ways to make their curriculum

work for students with special needs. Over the past couple years, he has watched Kowitch learn and grow in his classroom. He says she has been a star pupil.

“She is the most organized student I know. If I could translate her work skills and her level of responsibility to the general student population, every kid in the building would be a 3.8 GPA or above,” he says. “She is sassy with a good sense of humor, and she is super kind and sweet.”

Her senior year, finding classes became even more difficult.

Only certain subjects with specific teachers are available to teach Kowitch. Because of this, her curriculum has become more and more narrowed and her class workload is more difficult. Many teachers and administrators still struggle to find ways to make all curriculum work for special-needs students. Kowitch and her family have had to make due with what is available.

“It became more about not the class, but finding the teacher,” says Art Kowitch.

Hull recognizes that there is still much work to be done within the inclusion movement. “We still have a really long way to go, April 2017

11

and this is a conversation that special education teachers are trying to have with elective teachers is, how do we have our classrooms be more inclusive, and what does that mean?”

Others worry that as a whole, the special education program is lacking resources. “Special education is a federal mandate but is not funded,” says Mary Pearson, the director of the Special Education Department for PPS. “We are constantly moving things around to accommodate the highest needs.”

This is partly why finding classes for Kowitch and others can be so difficult. Without funding, classes are cut and moved around frequently to make ends meet. “In the special education department, things never stay the same,” says Kris Anderson.

“Everything is constantly in flux, which is frustrating.”

But through it all, Kowitch has still found her own ways to excel by putting herself out in the community. And now, as senior year is coming to a close, Kowitch isn’t slowing down.

Between working at Wee Works Preschool for 1.5 hours per week, rehearsing for “Chicago” – the new school play she auditioned for and claimed a role as an inmate – and basketball practice, Kowitch is always busy. This year, Kowitch was also awarded the “best dressed” senior superlative for Grant’s yearbook.

“It feels good,” says Kowitch. “Because, you know, I am a fashionista.”

Now, Kowitch is preparing to start her next journey and she is setting her sights higher than ever. She is waiting to hear back from the “Think College” program for students with cognitive disabilities at Portland State University. “I am ready to leave Grant High School and go to college … and travel the world, get an internship,” she says. “I am going to do all the things that every other person is going to do.”

By Kowitch attending college, Grant would be continuing a new trend of ensuring students with Down syndrome have equal access to higher education. Cody Sullivan, the alumnus from 2014, is now a junior at Concordia College and is the first student with Down syndrome in Oregon to attend college. While the leap to college is a big one, Kowitch’s family and friends are confident that she can overcome anything that comes in her way.

“We were very lucky to be surrounded by people who see her strengths, which helps us see her strengths, which helps her to highlight her own strengths,” Kris Anderson says, “She just never quits impressing us.”

Kowitch puts it simply. “That’s how I roll,” she says. ◆

To learn more about how Kowitch has overcome the challenges she has faced, visit grantmagazine.com/grace.

Talking with Kowitch, one would never assume that she has won gold medals from her special olympics swimming races, nor that she’s won the “best dressed” senior superlative because she is so modest. “Grace gets a lot of mileage out of what she has that’s for sure,” says Art Kowitch. “She is our little joy bomb.”

12 Grant Magazine

Time with...Danny Fisher

Strings Attached

Grant freshman Danny Fisher reflects on his recent move to Portland and passion for yo-yoing.

Interview by Kali Rennaker • Photo by Molly Metz So what got you into yo-yoing?

I learned to yo-yo when I was 11 … Usually around Christmas time every year my relatives call and ask my mom what kind of stuff we’re looking for … For some reason I just thought, ‘you know, a yo-yo’ and so I got a yoyo and then saved up some money and got a better one.

When did it go from a hobby to a serious passion?

Actually about six months ago, I was living in South Carolina at the time and the Southeast Regional Yo-yo Contest was coming up and I was just sort of like ‘You know what? I would really like to compete in that,’ so I just started practicing more and more.

What was life in South Carolina like?

I didn’t fit in because my family, we’re atheists, and we’re also vegan, and so everyone there is huge, Jesus-loving meat eaters, which, there’s nothing wrong with Jesus-loving meat eaters, except that they all hated me for not being a Jesus-loving meat eater, so I fit in more here.

Why did you choose to come to Portland?

That is the reason. I mean, it was pretty neat. Our family, we like to make an adventure out of life, whereas most families might move for their job or something like that, we literally moved here because it was a better place, and we wanted to live here.

What do your parents think about your yoyoing?

My mom, she doesn’t go crazy like people sometimes do when people see me yoyoing in school or in public. She’s used to it because, you know, I do it an hour a day usually right in front of her.

Why do you dedicate so much of your time to it?

I enjoy doing it. It’s not like doing homework for an hour every night because it’s something that impresses people … There’s no disadvantages to Age: 15 Hometown: Orangeburg, S.C. One thing you miss about the South?

The sun.

Number of yo-yos you own: 15 Favorite yo-yo trick: Mach 5

“My tricks ... they’re all original. No one’s seen them before.”

it. Most things, to get good at, you have to sacrifice time but I don’t really consider it sacrificing because … you’re having fun.

Is it a long process to learn new tricks?

Nailing down a routine and getting it perfect – that can take months of hard work just to make it so that every single string land and every single bind is carefully coordinated with the music. I mean, usually in study hall I will sit there for a half hour at least just playing it to the music.

Do you like having people react?

Oh yeah, that’s the best part … that’s sort of a greedy way to think, but that’s one of the most enjoyable parts. Another enjoyable part is— this is sort of a stereotype— but it’s a good one: the yoyo community is really nice … Everyone in the yo-yo community just trusts each other.

Outside of yo-yoing, do you have any other interests?

I play saxophone for the Grant Jazz Lab and I also have a smaller jazz group that I play with at home … My little brother, he plays saxophone as well, he’s newer though.

Does your brother yo-yo too?

He yo-yos too but not as much as I do. He doesn’t go to competitions. He just sort of does it to impress his friends.

Given you’ve been at this hobby for a while now, what’s it like seeing your progress?

It’s crazy. I recently watched the contest video from my first ever yo-yo contest and that was only a few months ago, but the amount of improvement I’ve made is so great. Back then, I was literally doing a bunch of tricks I found on the internet and now all of my tricks ... they’re all original. No one’s seen them before.

Where do you see yourself in the future?

I’d love to be a computer programmer … I’d still be yo-yoing on the side but I don’t think I’d ever be good enough to go pro with that. It’ll just be one of those things I do for fun. ◆ Visit grantmagazine.com/yoyo to see Fisher in action.

April 2017

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Moments

Letting the Good Times Roll

During a rare sunny lunch period at Grant, a few friends have some spontaneous fun by pushing each other around in a shopping cart.

Photo and interviews by Julian Wyatt

Olivia Hasapis, 14, freshman (background) “It was sunny, and we had not had lunch outside in awhile so we were just like, ‘Let’s go outside’ ... We were sitting on the bleachers, and then we just saw a shopping cart ... We all started like going around in it, and we saw some hills, and we were like, ‘Let’s take this to the next level ...’ High school is boring, and when you see a shopping cart and you’re just eating lunch, or you’re gonna go to class and you see a shopping cart you’re like, ‘Wow, I’m not gonna get to go down a hill in a shopping cart in biology, so I’ll do it now.’”

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Edith Allen, 15, freshman (foreground) “I think [the cart] was from Whole Foods, it was on the turf so then I was like, ‘Hey guys let’s go over there.’ So we went over and started pushing each other around in it. I just thought it’d be fun … We were learning about in health class how your prefrontal cortex is not fully formed yet, so it’s like, you’re not as good at making decisions. But I don’t think that it was a bad decision ... I wanna live my life and have fun. When people are older, they’re definitely more worried about breaking a bone or something.”

Lyrical Resiliance

Finding his forte in rap, freshman Damarhea Taylor has been able to overcome a rocky past and share his story of perseverance.

Story by Narain Dubey • Photos by Finn Hawley-Blue

After the recent loss of his cousin, Taylor felt the weight of depression resurface.

But rapping helped him find solace and self-expression in that difficult time.

I

t’s a Friday evening, and the sun is just starting to go down.

Damarhea Taylor lies in bed, his feet up on the headboard, with only a spiral notebook and a pencil in hand. He begins tapping a beat on the wall to get his mind moving. After about five minutes, his creative process is in full gear.

Using the tempo he creates, Taylor writes word after word, jotting down any rhymes or verses that come to mind. In this impromptu song, Taylor describes the struggles he’s experienced after the death of his great-grandmother. For Taylor, the lyrics work best when they are from the heart.

When he has a draft of his lyrics, Taylor melodically repeats the words into a microphone attached to his computer. Using GarageBand editing software, Taylor edits the vocals and messes around with different beat mixes. After about an hour of working and setting the piece to a beat, Taylor has the beginning to a new rap.

For Taylor, composing his own music is a lifestyle.

In his early middle school years, Taylor hit a rocky stretch in his life. Dealing with the death of a close family member as well as constant bullying and abuse from his peers, his motivation and self-esteem dropped significantly.

But when Taylor started rapping when he was 13 years old, he found that for the first time in his life, he was able to express his emotions in a positive way. “Rap is my motivation,” Taylor says.

“If I am dealing with anything difficult, I know that I can put it into words and that I’ll be able to push through.”

Taylor was born September 11, 2001, in Northeast Portland as the only child of LaToya Moore and Traye Taylor. Taylor attended Sabin K-8 from kindergarten through the third grade.

Moore remembers that as a young child, Taylor and his father got along well. “Growing up, Damarhea and his father were very close,” she says. “They were best friends.” Taylor remembers the April 2017

15

long days spent playing one-on-one basketball and frequently going out to eat together. In his early years, Taylor would also watch his father’s rap group record together, always taking a keen interest in the way they could string words together.

Despite his father’s work with rap, Taylor thought composing wasn’t for him. Instead, he spent the majority of his time listening to 2Pac and memorizing the lyrics to various hip-hop songs.

As Taylor grew older, though, time with his father became sparse. “He got into drugs, and things just went downhill from there,” Taylor says. “He went to jail, and so I didn’t see him anymore.”

When Taylor turned 5 years old, his father left the family completely. “It hurt so much,” says Taylor. “I knew that all of those experiences we had and the things we did together wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.”

With his mother finishing a medical coding class at University of Phoenix, an online college, and working part time, Taylor needed another support system. His great-grandmother, Nannie Penn, became an important figure in his life. “She was one of the closest people for me to come to when I was sad,” Taylor says. “I didn’t have too many of those people, so she was really important to me.”

Taylor found himself spending almost every day after school with Penn. But as they became closer, Taylor began to notice that he was not the only one who needed help. “My mom and I discovered that my grandma had a cigarette addiction,” Taylor says. “So to help, we took away all the cigarettes in our house and her house.”

One day in the summer before fourth grade, Taylor and his mother found Penn passed out on the floor of her bathroom.

While they were out, she had locked herself in the room and

smoked a stolen cigarette. That same day, Penn passed away at 68 years old.

After the death of his great-grandmother, Taylor’s life changed immensely. “I was feeling very alone,” Taylor says. “I always talked to her, so when she died, I didn’t know what to do.”

Soon after, Taylor lost his motivation, particularly in the classroom. It became hard for him to make it to school in the morning, and his grades dropped significantly.

In addition to his struggles with schoolwork, Taylor sunk into depression, eventually causing him to seek medical support. His doctor suggested that he begin taking anti-depressants to help with the illness, but the possible side-effects made Taylor hesitant: “I just said, ‘No, I don’t want any pills,’” recalls Taylor now.

Instead, he and his mother attended therapy sessions to help get through the loss, and together, they started to see improvement.

Taylor began to spend time playing basketball again, a sport he had previously pushed aside after his father left. He and his mother also found other ways to cope. “We made sure that we would talk about everything going on,” Moore says. “We would visit (his great-grandmother’s) grave so that we could be with her.”

After moving houses in 2011, Taylor switched to Vernon Elementary (now K-8) for fourth grade.

Taylor discovered that being the new kid at school wasn’t easy.

“I guess I was an easy target,” he says. “All the bigger and more popular kids began to bully me.”

Although it began as teasing, the harassment quickly escalated.

Taylor ended most days being stuffed into a locker or going home with a bloody lip.

Taylor vividly remembers the day a classmate shoved him against the wall, taking advantage of his small size. He says that he didn’t understand why the kids chose him to pick on.

Taylor hopes that if he works hard enough, he can one day rap professionally and share his story with people around the world.

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Coupled with his depression, the bullying deeply impacted Taylor, remembers Brad Johnson, a middle school science teacher at Vernon: “Damarhea was always so caring, sensitive and open to people, which is why the bullying hit him so hard,” Johnson says. “I could clearly see that the happy, outgoing Damarhea was changed into a quieter, more reserved kid.”

Taylor found that the constant abuse and bullying put him “into a deeper depression,” he says. “I started to get suicidal thoughts.”

In the middle of his sixth-grade year, Taylor attempted suicide.

“I thought that I didn’t belong and that the bullying wouldn’t stop,” he says. “I thought that taking my life was the only option.”

Despite the ongoing depression, his mother never saw the attempt coming: “I didn’t see any signs of suicide,” Moore says.

“So once I learned of his thoughts, it was extremely shocking because I had no clue.”

Right as Taylor was attempting suicide, though, his mother stopped him: “She helped me and took me to counseling almost right away,” Taylor says.

Taylor and his counselor, who worked with Moore as well, became close over the course of a few months. Their sessions together reminded Taylor of talking to his great-grandmother.

However, the two of them determined that despite their weekly meetings, Taylor was not improving to the level that he needed to.

Eventually, his counselor decided that in order to get better, Taylor needed to invest more time in outside activities.

“We talked about my interest in rap,” Taylor says. “He thought it would be a good idea for me to explore it.”

Taylor started to spend most of his time writing the lyrics to songs. His initial inspiration from his father’s modern rap style, which focused on sex, drugs and alcohol, was replaced with a different theme in lyrics.

He wrote about his own problems and his past, using the songs to reveal his feelings. “I found that I could make a story out of it and put my own experiences in it,” Taylor says. “It was a way to get my emotions through.”

Taylor went on to write the rap “Truth Hurts” about the loss of his great-grandmother. The lyrics outline the close relationship Taylor had with his great-grandmother and the struggle of going through daily life without her: “We all miss you, and it’s sad you ain’t living no more/It’s sad when you not around, because you was the only person who could calm me down,” he wrote.

Though Taylor now had therapy and his rap as supports, the bullying didn’t stop, even when he transferred to Franklin D. Roosevelt Middle School (FDR) for his seventh-grade year. There, he was constantly picked on by his peers and teased about his appearance.

His friend, Fred Simmons, a freshman at Grant who attended FDR with Taylor, remembers the bullying vividly. “The kids used to make up horrible stuff about Damarhea,” Simmons says. “He would be sitting in class, and they would just make fun of his hair and his dreads, so Damarhea would leave.”

As the harassment continued, Taylor decided to put his investment in rap into full gear. He contacted his uncle, Richard Hunter, who goes by his stage name, Risky, a known recording and composing artist in Portland. With Hunter, Taylor spent days on end working on new raps, which he wrote about his experience with depression.

“Working with Richard was really fantastic for Damarhea,” says Ivan Moore III, Taylor’s stepdad. “It showed him that someone in his life achieved their dreams of rap and that he could eventually

do the same.”

Every day after school, Taylor would rush home to finish his homework so that he could work on songs to record in the studio with his uncle. “He was writing constantly and talking about how he wanted to do it as a career when he was older,” Moore says. “It was always rap, rap, rap.”

Over time, Moore noticed that Taylor gained more of an interest in his schoolwork and that his grades had improved. She credits his improvement to his time spent working on raps. “Without it, Damarhea had no way to get the words or feelings out,” she says. “With the music, it helped him not keep those thoughts in when he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

Despite his tough past, Taylor is happy that rap emerged into his life: “It’s taught me to not be afraid,” he says. “It’s okay to express your feelings and to show who you are.”

Now a freshman, Taylor continues to explore his passion, and he knows that while he may still hit bumps in the road, he now has something to turn to for support. “Even though I sometimes have breakdowns or feel sad in class, I know that I have rap to lean on.”

Slowly, though, Taylor is changing the meaning he gets from rap: “Now, I rap about my experiences for other people,” Taylor says. “For anyone else who is struggling with what I struggled with, they should know it gets better.”

Taylor believes that, given his talent, it is his duty to provide a voice for those in his previous position. He hopes that one day, he can rap professionally for kids who have had similar experiences.

If he reaches his goals of one day rapping on tour, he thinks that having other kids listen to his story will inspire them to share theirs.

During a recent lunch break, Taylor walks down the halls of Grant holding a stack of black and gold cards. He hands one to each of his friends that pass him, until he has no more left. Taylor’s business card, engraved with the title “rapper” and his stage name, Marhe, is a way for him to go a step further in achieving his dreams.

Although Taylor’s interest in rap is no secret to his peers at Grant, most of his friends and classmates have not seen his lyrics.

“I still don’t feel totally ready to share my rap,” Taylor says. “I want to make sure I am presenting myself in the best way.”

Near the end of the school year, Taylor plans to release a songbook with a collection of his own raps. He hopes that those who listen to the raps will not just listen to the music but also the message that comes with it.

Until he is ready to share his songs, Taylor says he will continue to focus on telling his story. “I’m still working on taking my story and expressing it,” he says. “I still need to show who I am.” ◆

“It’s taught me to not be afraid, that it’s okay to express your feelings and to show who you are.”

- Damarhea Taylor

To learn more about Taylor and see him perform his raps, visit grantmagazine.com/rapping.

April 2017

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on the road Next year, the average Grant student will have a longer commute to school with the move to Marshall. What changes can students expect to see in their daily lives?

By Momoko Baker and Ari Tandan

I

t’s 5 a.m., and Grant freshman Crimson Ravarra’s alarm goes off, signaling the start of her long morning. After getting ready for the day, she heads downstairs and watches the news with her mom while eating a bagel.

The clock now reads 6:57 a.m., and Ravarra grabs her backpack and is dropped off at the MAX stop, 13 miles from Grant High School.

Sheltering herself from the rain under the covered stop, Ravarra waits for the train to arrive at the end of the green line. It will be a 45 minute ride to school.

For Ravarra, this is an average weekday morning. “It gets tiring doing the same thing every day, having to wake up so early and then go down to the MAX … (some days) it feels like I’m on there for hours,” says Ravarra.

With next year’s move to the Marshall campus – where Grant will be relocated while the school undergoes reconstruction – quickly approaching, more Grant students will deal with a commute similar to Ravarra’s, especially those living in North and Northeast Portland.

Many will face a commute by bus that is well over an hour long.

With a six and a half mile trek to the Marshall campus from Grant, the commute will be a huge change for the community. And its impact on students could go beyond just their alarm clock settings.

Kaustav Misra, an Associate Professor of Economics at Saginaw Valley State University in Michigan, who conducted a study on the effect that commutes have on students, predicts that more students will miss school next year.

“There is a strong correlation between the commuting distance and absenteeism,” says Misra. “Adding more distance (to a student’s commute) can diminish the interest of going to school.”

Lee Orr, the attendance specialist at Grant, has noticed the same trend. “There’s this whole mental game you play with yourself to get past having to take the long ride and then be motivated to come. You figure, if I’m taking this long a ride, I can just stay at home,” says Orr. And attendance isn’t the only thing that could drop with the coming move. According to

18 Grant Magazine

Misra’s study, students with longer commutes have a harder time focusing in class, and, on average, have lower GPAs compared to students with shorter commutes. “It definitely will affect students and their productivity,” he says. “If your commuting distance is higher, your academic performance gets poorer.”

Currently, students living outside of the school boundaries have the hardest time getting to school, often arriving tired or with incomplete work due to early mornings and late nights.

Junior Daniel Hunt, who commutes from St. Helens, Ore. – nearly an hour-long drive each way – runs track in the spring. By the time he gets home after a tough practice and long commute, he is too tired to do homework. As a result, Hunt has seen his grades drop during track season.

While most students don’t have to deal with a commute like Hunt’s, a large portion of the student body will have much farther commutes with the upcoming move. In preparation, many students are already planning, and lamenting, their commute for next year.

Freshman Kaiya Laguardia, who lives in the Roosevelt neighborhood, says she’ll have to wake up at 4:30 a.m. in order to get to school on a Trimet bus. Laguardia, who already has trouble focusing in school, says that her inability to engage in school work will be even more prominent next year, when she will get at most 6 hours of sleep per night. “I’ll have to learn to live with that,” Laguardia says.

Other students like Hunt aren’t attending Grant at all next year. “I was originally going to go to Marshall, but … then I’d have to commute even further,” he says. Hunt is opting to finish his last few credits at Portland Community College next year to get his high school diploma.

But for many students, changing schools isn’t an option, and they are left figuring out how to make the commute to Marshall work for them.

With the move just over four months away, Grant Magazine asks students who have varying commutes how they deal with getting to school to give students and staff members insight into what the Marshall move will bring. What will your commute look like next year? ◆

Crimson Ravarra Freshman, 15 Commute length: 45 minutes How she will commute next year: Shorter MAX ride How she commutes: Drives with mom, then gets on MAX at Clackamas Town Center

“I usually listen to music, but when I’m on the MAX, I kind of sit and watch the people around me. It’s interesting to wonder where they’re going, what their purpose is, and I kinda just like to see the different types of people who are in Portland ... You get to kinda see a little bit of people’s lives if you pay attention on the MAX. It’s kind of a different environment almost.”

– Interview and photo by Momoko Baker

April 2017

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Ian Downey Senior, 18 Commute length: 30 to 45 minutes, depending on traffic How he commutes: Drives from Vancouver, Wash.

Favorite music to listen to while driving: Frank Ocean

20 Grant Magazine

“(I’m in my car) maybe two and a half hours a day, so maybe 15 hours a week or something like that. I’m in this car a lot, ‘cause I don’t just drive this car from school to like, home, or home to school. I drive downtown all the time to pick my sister up from dance, I drive to her school – which is Riverdale High School, which is not exactly close either. I just find myself like, having to go to the opposite side of town on a daily basis ... or even like another state.”

– Interview by Ari Tandan, photo by Momoko Baker

Daniel hunt Junior, 17

Commute length: 45 to 60 minutes How he commutes: Drives with mom from St. Helens, Ore. How he will commute next year: Driving himself to Portland Community College

“I’ve made this trip everyday since preschool ... Then, it was hard for me to hang out with friends and stuff, ‘cause I’d have to ... leave early so I can make it home before late at night.

I didn’t really have much time to hang out. And if people wanted to hang out, I couldn’t really come out to Portland all the time. So it was hard to spend time with people.”

– Interview and photo by Momoko Baker

April 2017

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Clara Orr Junior, 16

Commute length: 3 minutes How she commutes: Walks across the street How she will commute next year: Car or MAX “I normally wake up 7:50 or 7:55 … I live a block away so you can almost see my house from the door…

Next year I’m taking either the MAX or the busses with my two other friends that live really close to school and/or we’re all going to carpool in the morning together… Both methods that I would get to school [next year] could be pretty unpredictable… maybe if a friend was sick or a friend woke up late, then that ride would go away… I definitely know that some [of my friends] are doing sports next year so that would mean that I wouldn’t be able to ride back with them and or if they had to stay after school in order to talk to a teacher or retake a test that would mean I would have to stay there too.”

– Interview by Ari Tandan, photo by Momoko Baker

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Leo Oudomphong Sophomore, 16

Commute Length: 20 minutes travelling to parents’ restaurant How he commutes: Busses to his parents’ restaurant, Daddy Mojo’s, in Northeast Portland, then gets a ride home to Southeast Portland.

How he will commute next year: Driving himself or taking a shorter bus ride.

“I would call it a second home, because I’ll spend every day after school here, I’ll do my homework here and then eat a snack or dinner. On very busy days if (the staff) need my help, I’ll come over and just start helping around and do all these little things … (Next year), more often than not, I’ll be going straight home because Marshall is closer to my home. The restaurant is further. I’ll have to start making my own food, because I won’t be coming back here.

I’ll need to do everything on my own … Because both my parents are working, I’ll be home alone a lot.”

– Interview and photo by Momoko Baker

Kaiya Laguardia Freshman, 15 (left)

Commute length: 20 minutes, 50 minutes to an hour going home How she commutes: Gets a ride with her father or takes Trimet How she will commute next year: MAX (two hour commute) “I wake up at 6… I’m the oldest of four, I have two little brothers, one of them is 13, and one of them is 4 and a younger sister who is 5… I usually help load the car with all of our stuff. I usually help with breakfast… and then help my dad pack lunch for all of us. I’ll be late for school if they don’t get ready. Our cars take a while to start, so we’ll start them at like 7:20 …when my dad drives me, we’re usually rushed. [Next year] my parents can’t really take me… I would have to take the bus by myself, meaning it would take a couple hours… Obviously it’s not gonna help me in school, like I might have a worse attitude.”

– Interview by Ari Tandan, photo by Mako Barmon April 2017

23

A Presence in Pokemon He’s an internationally-recognized Pokémon player, but he didn’t feel he could share his skill with peers until now.

By Ella Weeks

I

t’s August 2016 in San Francisco, Calif. at the Pokémon Trading Card Game World Championships, and a match is underway.

Then-16-year-old Sam Hough sits poker-faced at a table in front of thousands of people, with many more watching live from a broadcast.

In the opponent’s seat is Dylan Bryan, in his twenties, considered to be one of the best Pokémon players in the world. This next 50 minutes will determine the winner of the match.

Overwhelmed with nerves, Hough commits a gameplay error by playing a trainer item illegally, costing him three out of six prize cards.

He is halfway to losing. But 45 minutes later, Hough stalls Bryan by making him use up all his cards. He ends up on top – flying home to Portland four days later with a third place title in the championship.

Hough has since competed in five world championships, the first two international championships ever and many more regional events. Established in 1996 in Japan, Pokémon Trading Card Game is a collectible card game with organized events around the world.

Tournaments of all sizes allow players to compete against and learn from one another. When Hough started playing the game at age 8, he was more interested in the Pokémon community itself than he was in winning.

But his instinct in middle school was to keep it hushed in fear that classmates would tease him. “Part of it is from being considered different, but I think a lot of it stems from middle schoolers not being as comfortable being themselves, like not having an identity,” he says.

Hough struggled to find common ground with classmates outside

24 Grant Magazine

Photo by Miles Rideau

of the Pokémon community and instead preferred to stick with fellow players with whom he shared a passion. “Having a lot in common with someone and being able to have really good conversations and laugh a lot makes the events way more fun.”

But in recent years, Hough has become open about his impressive Pokémon career. “I know what I’m good at,” he says. “I know what I like. People have things that they’re good at; they have things that they like. I’m not going to judge them; they’re not going to judge me.”

Hough was born in Portland on September 28, 1999 to parents George Hough Jr. and Louis Paradis, and he is the youngest of three children. Hough was quickly identified as curious and eager to learn.

In Hough’s third grade year at Alameda Elementary School, his father, George Hough Jr., worked as a professor at Portland State University. One day, Hough Jr. took his son to observe his Methods and Statistics class and says he was taken aback by his son’s curiosity.

“He asked more questions than the rest of the class combined,” he remembers.

Back at home, Hough took an interest in games introduced to him by his brother, George Hough III. The two were fairly close, but Hough III’s Asperger syndrome – a developmental disorder affecting one’s ability to socialize and communicate – made things, as Hough describes, “a rollercoaster” at home. “(It) made me constantly have to worry about something going wrong,” he says.

But the brothers found common ground through Pokémon and played against each other for fun using loose rules and old decks. It

was in 2009 that Hough competed in his first organized event ever - a regional championship in Salem, Ore. “It was really different from anything I’d ever done before because it’s a pretty big venue, and there’s hundreds of people ... I had never seen a lot of the cards before or met the people,” Hough recalls. As a 9-year-old, he won three out of seven games and left feeling awestruck at the world of Pokémon. “It opened my eyes,” he says.

In the Pokémon Trading Card Game, players use cards – they can be Pokémon characters, trainers, item cards, stadium cards or supporters – to create the best attack to knock out the opponent’s Pokémon. The first player with no prize cards, no Pokémon left in play or no cards in their deck, loses.

“It was a challenge to think through all the thought processes of a game, and it was something that was fun and also rewarding mentally,” Hough says.

He continued to play at home, but it wasn’t until 2010 that he started competing regularly and fully understanding the ways of the game.

He often visited a game store called Loki’s Games where he talked to employees and tournament organizers, which are also known as TO’s.

“The TO’s in our area are really welcoming of anyone that comes in,” he says. “They told me who was good at the game for my age and how I can get better.”

Things at home were still rocky for Hough, especially after his parents’ divorce several years earlier. “My dad was unemployed at the time and definitely not living with my mom,” he says. “Money was tight.” But his family always supported his interests. “My mom took time out of her day and work, and money, to take me to events and watch after me,” he recalls.

By the time Hough was 10, he knew almost everyone in the Oregon Pokémon community. “You can go and talk to people, and they’ll be very open to be like, ‘Oh hey, I’ve heard about you, or you seem really cool. Do you want to play with us?’” he says. “You start talking to them and then you become friends. It just keeps growing and growing.”

After winning the Tacoma State Championship in 2011, Hough committed to Pokémon. He now had friends all over Oregon and Washington to learn from, and he participated in every event he could. “I realized I could do better than I thought I could. That was big. It definitely gave me a lot of confidence, especially around other players,” he says. “Even doing well at events gets people like, ‘Oh, this person’s good,’ and then you can talk to them because they’re really good. So it ... opens some doors.”

In 2011, Hough qualified for the World Championship in San Francisco, his first world championship, and placed modestly in the event at 39th place.

Around this time, Hough entered middle school at Beaumont. He made some friends in his classes, but school didn’t offer the same welcoming community as Pokémon did, since his hobby didn’t mesh with those of his classmates.

“For Pokémon, especially the friends that I hang out with, we can just literally talk for hours and hours and hours,” he says. “But with friends from school … we’ll hang out, but it’s not like we have something in common ... not something we’re both passionate about.”

He didn’t tell classmates about playing Pokémon, much less his accomplishments in it, due to what seemed to be a stigma around the game. Instead, he told them he was away on vacation when he went out of state to compete in tournaments. “It was inconvenient, going out of your way to not tell people,” he says.

Hough worried that students might not treat the game with the same respect they would traditional sports and activities. Other Pokémon players his age were doing the same: keeping it hidden from peers

outside of the community.

Then, in eighth grade, during an activity in his class, Hough let slip that he had been to a Pokémon tournament. “At first they laughed,” he says, “but then I told them more about it, and they thought it was interesting.” Hough was filled with relief.

“It was an irrational fear ... I think I just realized that people don’t care. They’re not gonna go out of their way to make me feel bad about myself because I have a hobby,” he says, laughing.

Sharing his secret emboldened Hough. He won two state championships in 2013, earned 3rd place in the National Championship in Indianapolis and made the top 32 cut at the World Championship in Vancouver, B.C.. “That was the season that I was really high-ranked ... I felt sort of unstoppable,” he says. He played again at Nationals and at Worlds in 2014, meeting people from all over the country as he traveled farther for events.

In 2014, Hough started at Grant where his curiosity led him to STEM subjects. After taking Chris Downie’s biomedical science class his sophomore year, where he learned about the body’s processes and medical procedures, Hough knew he wanted to pursue science or engineering further. “School’s really important to me. I just really like learning,” he says.

In 2016, he placed third in the San Francisco World Championship and played in the first-ever International Championship, hosted in London, England, where he made the top 64 cut in the Master’s Division. “London’s just really amazing … It was just a totally different experience - a different environment,” he says. Hough stayed with a friend from London but played against players from eight countries and made a friend from Chile, with whom he still keeps in touch.

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oday, Hough still plays in local events like League Cups, where he can revisit with TO’s that he’s known for years. Seth Kuepker, a TO in Milwaukie who has known Hough since they both started playing, says that the range of Pokémon players has drastically changed. “Oregon has gone from a pretty weak area to a very strong area in relatively recent years,” he says. “So it’s cool to see players you’ve known for a long time do well in large tournaments.”

Hough also arranges several online games of Pokémon up to four times a week against friends while talking to them over Skype. He still keeps close contact with his friends from around the country and the world. “I talk to them pretty frequently, and they let me know what’s going on in their lives,” he says. “That’s really cool.”

This past March, Hough played in the second official International Championship, this time hosted in Australia. He hopes to qualify for Worlds again this year but is beginning to prioritize school and college over Pokémon.

“I’ll stay in the game but not play as much when I go to college just ‘cause I’ll be pretty busy, especially if I decide to go to Med School – definitely something in science or engineering or math.” This year, he is taking four science classes to further explore the STEM path.

Luckily for Hough, Pokémon can be pursued for a lifetime, and Hough has just the focus for it. As he matured, Hough has found confidence in his skill in non-traditional sports and games that he didn’t have in middle school. “If people are judging me for something that I like, then I don’t really need them in my life.” He will happily tell anyone about his career in Pokémon when asked. “I am who I am,” he says. ◆ Visit grantmagazine.com/pokemon to watch Hough compete.

April 2017

25

Fighting Back. Period.

Nika Bartoo-Smith has become a leader at Grant for people working against the period stigma.

By Sydney Jones

O

n a recent Wednesday evening in February, Nika Bartoo-Smith sits behind a table, facing a semi-circle of four Portland Public Schools board members in the District Office. She taps her foot nervously as she waits for her turn to talk, while reminding herself to pace her speech. There is a buzz in the room as she prepares to start her two-minute talk.

Bartoo-Smith leans toward the microphones and glances down at her papers. When she starts talking, the butterflies in her stomach vanish. “Superintendent Bob McKean, Chair Koler and other board members, thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak tonight,” she says. She introduces herself and then boldly states her claim: a need for menstrual hygiene products in all school bathrooms.

“Menstrual hygiene products are as necessary as toilet paper and should be treated as such. I wonder, if toilet paper were not provided, wouldn’t that be seen as an issue?” she asks. “Menstrual hygiene products should be easy to access, especially in school … Please consider adding these products to the budget for next year.” Her speech is met with a round of applause. Before leaving, the superintendent tells Bartoo-Smith that the board had started looking into the issue after they were flooded with emails through a campaign Bartoo-Smith led a few weeks earlier.

26 Grant Magazine

“It was really rewarding ‘cause afterwards multiple people came up to me and were like, ‘Thank you for approaching this issue and bringing it to our attention,’” says Bartoo-Smith.

Since she was young, Bartoo-Smith was known as a leader.

But several years ago, she started experiencing anxiety and severe panic attacks that made sitting through classes, spending time with friends and taking part in activism nearly impossible. “(Working through anxiety) was really hard. It was a lot of being scared of stuff that I didn’t feel like I should be scared of, like everyday things,” says Bartoo-Smith.

But now, Bartoo-Smith is taking back her title as a leader. She’s found her voice as an activist in a unique area: menstrual equity.

Around the world, menstrual equity is a major issue, but it’s rarely discussed. In many third-world countries, menstruators have to use old clothes, sticks or leaves to catch blood because they don’t have access to pads or tampons. And in the U.S., hygiene products are classified as luxury items, leaving them inaccessible for those who are low-income or experiencing homelessness.

As part of her efforts advocating for feminism, Bartoo-Smith wants to empower other menstruators at Grant through leading Grant’s chapter of Period., a global organization that works to provide period resources.

For Bartoo-Smith forming an activist community has helped her

During the election season, Bartoo-Smith actively participated in protests. “That was really powerful to see, being surrounded by young people making change is really powerful,” she says.

Photo by Molly Metz

work through anxiety.

“I feel like I’ve kind of realized there’s so many ways to be different than everyone else, and I feel like a lot of that is how politically aware and involved I am,” she says. “By me going out and making a small difference, that’s my way to relieve my anxiety and do something about what I’m feeling and put those thoughts and nervousness into action.”

Born on March 6, 1999, Bartoo-Smith grew up with her younger sister, Sasha Bartoo-Smith and her parents, Mari Bartoo-Jacobson and Zeke Smith.

From a young age, Bartoo-Smith was no stranger to the importance of equality. Her family frequently discussed issues surrounding racial equity and advocacy at the dinner table, something that BartooSmith quickly took an interest in. Later, BartooSmith’s parents decided to send their children to Rigler Elementary School, a K-8 school at the time, instead of Alameda, the family’s neighborhood school populated mostly by white students. “We wanted them to see a more realistic picture of the world,” says Bartoo-Jacobson.

Bartoo-Smith’s parents decided to send their children to Rigler Elementary School, a K-8 school at the time, instead of Alameda, the family’s neighborhood school populated mostly by white students. “We wanted them to see a more realistic picture of the world,” says Bartoo-Jacobson.

Upon entering Vernon K-8 in seventh grade, Bartoo-Smith started looking for ways to create change. Many young, middle class white families moved into the elementary school and started a PTA but failed to include the middle school.

Bartoo-Smith joined the parent group and attended meetings.

When she heard a parent call the middle schoolers ‘troublemakers,’ she stood up for them and later brought the problem to the principal.

“She said to that parent, ‘I really don’t appreciate you talking about this when I’m here, and you’re talking about me and my peers,’” says Zeke Smith. “She just really quickly started to think about, ‘How do I disrupt behavior and actions in my community that don’t align with what my values are?’”

Although Bartoo-Smith stood up for her peers, she found it difficult connecting with kids her age, and she separated herself from her classmates. “I was always the nerd who liked to read …

I didn’t have a lot of friends, I had no one that I hung out with outside of school ever,” says Bartoo-Smith.

As these insecurities grew, she neared the transition to high school. The first week of her freshman year at Grant was no different than her middle school experience. Bartoo-Smith sat alone in the halls during lunch, often escaping the isolation by reading dystopian novels.

However as the year went on, she found new opportunities through Grant theater and the Multnomah Youth Commission, a program where young people provide a voice for the youth in the county and city’s work. Bartoo-Smith joined the Youth Against Violence group, which works to change the way violence is handled

at home and school.

“I kind of felt like I needed to keep busy somehow,” says BartooSmith.

But when Bartoo-Smith took part in the school play, her busy schedule was too much, and she started experiencing severe anxiety attacks. “I was sitting in the room (during rehearsals) and I got this overwhelming dizziness, and I felt like I was going to faint. So I got up and left, ” says Bartoo-Smith.

For the next two days, Bartoo-Smith stayed home. She stopped going to the Multnomah Youth Commission and struggled to focus in school. Many days, she stepped out of class multiple times to call her mom to help her calm back down. For the rest of freshman year, Bartoo-Smith started closing off from people. She headed straight home when school was over and hung out with friends less, scared she would get an attack while with them.

“It was kind of confusing honestly. There was never a specific reason,” says Bartoo-Smith. “I think a lot of people are like, ‘What was making you anxious?’ and you don’t always know. Sometimes it just happens.”

Bartoo-Smith was prescribed a short-term anti-anxiety medication. “It helped in the moment when I was feeling most anxious, which was good, but it was hard ‘cause I just remember the whole year being exhausted and feeling like I was never gonna get out of (my anxiety),” she says.

During her sophomore year, her anxiety increased to the point that her family had to help her stay calm through each day by taking walks, talking on the phone and watching movies.

“It was really hard my sophomore year ‘cause I remember I had been super engaged with stuff, and then I was just constantly scared to do things,” says Bartoo-Smith.

Her sister, Sasha Bartoo-Smith remembers the anxiety pushing her sister away from her at first. They clashed more, and she didn’t know how to help.

“She just was very unstable at times,” says Sasha Bartoo-Smith.

Nika Bartoo-Smith was prescribed a new anti-anxiety medication that lessened the panic attacks and minimized her anxiety within weeks. She also started therapy, used essential oil diffusers and other homeopathic remedies.

After that, things quickly started looking up for Bartoo-Smith.

Her anxiety, while still present, started ebbing away, and her active political personality resurfaced.

“Junior year, I feel like I started getting my political voice for sure,” she says. “I started speaking up a lot in class and noticing people really listen to what I have to say.”

Bartoo-Smith realized how finding a sense of community helped her overcome some of the insecurities that triggered her anxiety.

“I think finding a sense of community has really helped with my anxiety a lot. Finding all these clubs … I see like-minded people doing similar things,” she says. “I think I had a lot of these social justice thoughts going on in my head, but I never knew how to express them or deal with them.”

“I have been really impressed by all the support we’re getting.”

- nika bartoo-smith on her club, period.

April 2017

27

Toward the end of her junior year, Bartoo-Smith heard about Smith. the organization “Period.,” formerly known as Camions of Care, Her father says he’s seen Bartoo-Smith move in her own direction an entirely youth-run organization with school chapters across the as an activist. “It’s made me really, really proud. I was just kind of globe. The focus of the group is to educate youth about menstruation, taken aback with how she just had this sense of confidence about advocate for menstrual hygiene and distribute feminine hygiene her. It was pretty amazing to see.” care packages throughout the world to people in need.

On top of leading the Period. chapter at Grant, Bartoo-Smith The organization struck a chord with Bartoo-Smith. immerses herself in feminism through taking the senior English Starting in elementary school, she had noticed miseducation course, Feminism and Gender Studies and reading feminist around periods. In 5th grade she remembers learning about literature. Every now and then she feels the anxiety come back, periods in a sex-education class but never understanding why non- although the attacks are less severe. But she doesn’t let it stop her menstruators didn’t learn about it as well. from being a voice for others in her community.

Later, in high school, she experienced teachers not letting “I see her doing all these things and putting herself out in the students leave to take care of their periods, forcing them to stay world and trying to be involved, says freshman Kalia Storer, a and bleed through their clothes. On one occasion, she remembers lifelong friend of Bartoo-Smith and a member of the period club. asking to go to the bathroom multiple times, each time being told “I just really look up to her.” to sit back down. At the end of the class, Bartoo-Smith stood up and saw trails of blood down her jeans. rom March 8 to 17, Bartoo“I’ve heard boys say, ‘Oh, Smith led the first ever can’t you just hold in your Period. week at Grant, a period until you pee?’” she school-wide campaign to says. “So it became me wanting raise awareness and destigmatize to work towards people talking the topic of menstruation. During about periods more and be okay the week, members of the club with them.” handed out donuts and menstrual Bartoo-Smith got in touch hygiene products and sold t-shirts with Period.’s Portland leader and buttons. The bathrooms at and decided to open up a Grant during this week were chapter at Grant, teaming up supplied with menstrual products with junior Sadie Thorburn and as well. teachers Lynn Yarne and Marta Club members went around Repollet, who serve as the the school posting pads with club’s advisers. messages such as “We bleed get Since the beginning of her over it,” and “Imagine if men senior year, Bartoo-Smith were as disgusted with rape as and the roughly 20 members they are with periods,” along with of Grant’s Period. chapter educational posters on the walls.

“Crimson Wave” have held care Members of administration packaging events and supply took down the hygiene products Photo by Sydney Jones drives and watched films about and posters, but Bartoo-Smith how women experiencing For Grant High Schools period week, Bartoo-Smith and co- didn’t let that stop her from homelessness deal with leader Sadie Thorburn lead the club in writing messages on putting more up and staying true pads and pantiliners to put around the school. menstruation. to her cause.

“When I first heard about it, I went to the club fair in the fall, and “Overall, I have been really impressed by all the support we’re it just seemed different than the other clubs around,” says Juliette getting, and we have gotten a lot of really positive feedback, and Simonds, a junior involved in the club. “It’s about a topic that a lot that’s awesome,” says Bartoo-Smith. But, she says, “I’ve been of people try to ignore or push aside … and it just seemed like an really disappointed with the administration and their reactions.” important one to join.”

As Bartoo-Smith approaches the end of her high school career, After meetings with Vice Principal KD Parman in December, she’s looking at opportunities for next year. Bartoo-Smith plans to Bartoo-Smith started looking into approaching the Portland Pub- work for Period. for part of next year as the new policy director. lic Schools district about getting feminine hygiene products in all She also plans on travelling to Indonesia and other countries in bathrooms for every school.

Asia, throwing around the prospect of opening up more chapters of Before meeting with the board, she rallied up members of Period. as she travels.

Period., talked to peers and posted on social media, encouraging “I think (anxiety has) made me realize that everyone has people to send emails to the district asking them to put menstrual something that they’re struggling with because I have points where hygiene products in the budget for next year.

I’m so depressed because there’s so much wrong with the world,” On February 21, Bartoo-Smith met with board members, and she says. “I’ve also kind of realized that it doesn’t do anything the response was positive. to just sit around and watch what wrong is happening with the “It felt super empowering too, to be like, I just did this, and I world. Instead, you have to go out and do something about it to just made a change for maybe all the schools in PPS,” says Bartoo- change it. ” ◆

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28 Grant Magazine

The Alumni Profile

All in the Acting

Sally Struthers’ role in the TV show “All in the Family” launched her into a long and successful acting career. But even after winning several Emmy and Golden Globe awards, Struthers hasn’t let the fame change her.

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rant alumna Sally Struthers was in seventh grade at Faubion Elementary School when she received her first acting award.

Although she can’t recall what the play – written and performed by her class – was about, Struthers had a lead role.

She remembers the plaque that was presented to her afterwards that read, “Best Actress in the 7th Grade Class Play: Sally Struthers.”

“That was my first award,” recalls Struthers fondly.

Struthers’ close childhood friend, Linda Bennett, remembers what made Struthers such a talented actor, even as a kid.

“She was inherently funny all the time,” says Bennett. “Even if she wasn’t trying to be, she just always had amazing facial expressions that could just take you out of the gloom in a flash.”

That play was the first of many Struthers would star in, and it was the beginning of a lifelong career that brought Struthers plenty more recognition.

Struthers’ unique upbringing has set her apart from other actors. Her mother’s depression caused Struthers to develop a sense of humor in attempts to make her mother happy, a trait that has helped her reach success in acting.

And her family’s values toward helping people in need led her to become the spokeswoman for Save the Children, an organization that works to improve the lives and rights of children in developing countries.

“I grew up with a family that shared everything we had with the neighbors and other people,” says Struthers.

Struthers’ impressive acting career spans decades. She played Gloria Stivic in the 1970s hit TV series “All in the Family,” was part of the cast of “Gilmore Girls” and acted in movies such as “Five Easy Pieces” with Jack Nicholson and smaller TV series, including “9 to 5” and “Gloria.”

Now, at 69 years old, Struthers is still

Story by Toli Tate

active in the industry.

“I thank my lucky stars everyday that I was on a show called ‘All in the Family’ that made me so well-known to the American public. I get all these offers, and that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been on ‘All in the Family,’” says Struthers. “I’ve been beyond fortunate.”

Sally Struthers was born July 28, 1947, the second of two daughters to Margaret and Robert Struthers. She grew up in Northeast Portland in the Concordia neighborhood.

When Struthers was 7, her father left the family, and after that, she stopped

Photo Courtesy of Peter Larsen

Sally Struthers (top left) played Archie Bunker’s daughter, Gloria, in seven seasons of “All in the Family.”

seeing him on a regular basis. Her mother, Margaret Struthers, soon fell into deep depression after her husband left, and she was forced to find a job to support her daughters.

When Margaret Struthers found work at the Bonneville Power Administration as an accountant, family life became more stable. But Struthers says that her mother’s depression made any interaction with her difficult. “She got the early shiftwhere she April 2017

29

Above: Sally Struthers and her 3-year-old daughter, Samantha.

Above and below: Sally Struthers often traveled as the spokeswoman for Save the Children. Eventually, she ended her role with the organization when she gave birth to her daughter.

Photos courtesy of Peter Larsen

30 Grant Magazine

would see the least amount of people, and she asked if she could turn her desk towards the wall so that she wouldn’t be facing anyone,” says Struthers. “My mother became a recluse.”

She and her sister stopped inviting friends over to their house so they wouldn’t disturb their mother, and they learned to accept her change in character.

“I think I became even funnier …

I knew how to get people laughing.

And I think that I became even more so because I just wanted to give my mother some joy, ”says Struthers.

In 1961, Struthers started her freshman year at Grant High School.

Over her four years there, Struthers threw herself into as many activities as possible. She became a cheerleader, club leader and she got involved in Grant’s theater program.

“It was huge, it was bustling,” says Struthers of Grant. “There were around 900 people in my class alone, and I liked everybody, I’m like a cocker spaniel – I just run up to everybody. ” After high school, Struthers drove to Pasadena, CA to attend the Pasadena Playhouse, a college for the theatre arts. The Pasadena Playhouse was competitive and intense, but Struthers remained upbeat throughout her time there.

Just a few years later, when Struthers was 20, her father died in a car accident.

Long before then, Struthers had gotten used to his absence from her life. Even so, the loss was hard.

“When Sal’s dad passed away,” says Bennett, “her mom was just such a rock for her and … was always there for her.”

Soon after Struthers left the Pasadena Playhouse in 1967, she was hired for her first commercial job.

Struthers worked for several years on more commercial acting roles, and in 1967, she began appearing on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour.

After that, she landed a role in the 1970 drama “Five Easy Pieces” which starred Jack Nicholson. The movie received four Oscar nominations and four Golden Globe nominations.

At the same time that she’d been filming “Five Easy Pieces,” Struthers regularly appeared on the Tim Conway Comedy Hour. But her role there

didn’t last long, and she was let go after six weeks. It was a tough blow, but shortly after, she auditioned for a new show called “All in the Family.”

S

truthers landed a role, and after a year of filming in Los Angeles, the first episode of “All in the Family” aired on January 12, 1971. Struthers remembers when the show’s writer and producer, Norman Lear, met with the actors several hours before the episode aired.

“In the rehearsal hall at CBS Los Angeles, Norman Lear sat us down and said, ‘One of two things is going to happen tonight. It’s either going to be a big hit, and you will be recognized everywhere you go ... Or, the public is going to be up in arms with the way Archie talks, with all his racial slurs, and it’s going to be off the air after tonight, and we’ll all be out of a job,’”says Struthers.

The first scenario came true.

That night after the show aired, CBS received calls from networks across the nation asking when the next episode would air. Struthers and the rest of the “All in the Family” cast were relieved.

Overnight, Struthers became more famous than she’d ever expected. People tried to follow her car from the CBS parking lot, so she began taking alternate routes home. She couldn’t go out in public without someone recognizing her.

“Rob Reiner, who used to play my husband on ‘All in the Family,’ and I used to walk out of the back door of CBS 2-3 days a week and walk over to the Farmer’s Market,” Struthers recalls. “But then once the show hit the air, he and I couldn’t go to the farmer’s market anymore. Everyone knew us. Everything changed.”

In 1971, “All in the Family” won a Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Series, and in 1972, it won the Golden Globe award for Best TV Show. It was unique in that it told the story of a husband and father figure, Archie Bunker, who has a daughter named Gloria, played

by Struthers. Archie openly expresses his views on race and many of his lines include racial slurs. Throughout the series, Gloria and her husband are constantly reprimanding him.

“They were trying to make a point,” says Struthers. “And it was to shine a light on racism and bigotry and shine a light on

the fact that someone doesn’t necessarily have to be wearing a KKK sheet over their head to be a racist, that we can all hate. It can be a lovable father or husband type.”

“All in the Family” continued to win awards each year. Struthers says she was “proud to have been a very small part in something so big in the history of TV.” “It was a phenomenon, we were on the cover of Time magazine, we were guests of Rosalynn and Jimmy Carter at the white house,” Struthers said.

In 1972, Struthers was nominated for her first Emmy award. But at the time of the awards ceremony, her mother was very ill in the hospital. When Struthers left for the ceremony in Pasadena, she didn’t know if she would see her again.

That night Struthers won an Emmy for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series for her role in “All in the Family.”

“When they announced my name, I held that Emmy towards the camera and said, ‘This is for you, mom. I’m doing this because you thought I could do it…’ and then my mother did not die,” says Struthers. “I took the Emmy award and gave it to her, and she kept it on her television set in her living room until she passed away.”

It was around this time that Struthers started sponsoring children through the Christian Children’s Fund. She decided that she had more money than she needed for herself.

“My instinct when ‘All in the Family’ became so big was to share my money,” Struthers says. “I realized I didn’t need that kind of money, so I decided I’m going to share this and sponsor a little child.”

Although “All in the Family” gave Struthers her path to stardom and made her a household name across the nation in the 70s, Struthers wasn’t happy working there all the time. She felt that the writers didn’t understand her talent and potential as a comedian. She remembers having only a few lines each episode.

“They didn’t know my style of comedy, they didn’t know that I could be hilarious too,” she says. “I was just on the edge of all the scenes, or the reactor, and it was frustrating for me.”

Struthers was getting offers to act in movies, but her contract with “All in the Family” prevented her from taking them.

She felt trapped. After the fifth season, Struthers hired a lawyer and tried to leave

the show, but leaving the show before her contract ended would cost more than she could afford.

Soon after, a new director and new writers were hired who wrote more lines for Struthers that gave her the chance to showcase her humor.

In the seventh season of “All in the Family,” another actress was hired named Liz Torres. She played Teresa, a boarder in the Bunkers’ house. Torres had seen Struthers perform on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, and when she met her on the set of “All in the Family,” she remembers Struthers’ warm personality.

“When you’re on a series, a lot of stars are very nice to the other actors, but they’re not forthcoming,” says Torres. “But Sally was very welcoming and very kind. She took me around and introduced me to everybody. I was so grateful because I was so scared and frightened to be there.”

T

wo years later, in 1996, her mother passed away at 79 years old. Margaret Struthers had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s eight years earlier. She was depressed most of her life, but she had still impacted Struthers’ life and the way Struthers made decisions.

Torres says that when she learned about Struthers’ charity work, she knew they would become good friends. They stayed in touch after “All in the Family” ended and were reunited on camera when both were cast for the 2000-2007 TV series, “Gilmore Girls.”

After years of acting in popular TV shows, Struthers is still surprised by the recognition she receives from fans.

“I’m still not used to it. I’m still Sally Struthers, I still come home to Portland and have sleepovers with my girlfriends, and I’m still that innocent wide-eyed person who is shocked that somebody famous knows me, when somebody wants my autograph.”

She hasn’t stopped working. She travels regularly for plays, most recently for the two-women musical “Always Patsy Cline.” When she isn’t on the road professionally, Struthers flies around the country to visit friends.

“No matter where we were, we stayed in touch,” Bennett, Struthers’ close friend, says. “When she’s home in Oregon for the holidays, we get together. She’s just like

Class of: 1965 Age: 69 Lives in: Los Angeles, Calif.

Worst class in High School: The only thing I ever flunked - I was on the honor role - but I got an F in gym class on tennis. My tennis racket had a proverbial hole in it, and I truly could never hit the ball.

Strangest run-in with a fan: I went to Israel and a man on a camel called to me, “Gloria!” So I went back to my hotel and said to my manager, “Oh my God, a man that looks like Jesus was riding a camel and he looked at me and he called me Gloria! How would a man wearing a white robe and headdress riding a camel know my name on ‘All in the Family’ in America?” And he said, “Oh, well your show is the biggest television show they have here. You’re overread into Hebrew, and then it’s subtitled in Arabic.”

who she used to be. Always.”

Struthers ended her role as spokeswoman for Save the Children after over thirty years there, but she plans to sponsor more children in the future. As for her acting career, Struthers hopes that part of her life slows down as well.

“I’m not a spring chicken, so I’m tired,” Struthers says. “I would love to retire…

I’m exhausted, waiting for a job that will keep me home so I can burn my suitcases.

We’ll see when I’m ready to do that.” ◆ April 2017

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Afterthoughts

Ode to Mom

The author examines her relationship with her mother and a family struggle with cancer.

By Charlotte Klein • Illustration by Julian Wyatt

I

remember a recent fight I had with my mom. I got home from school, dropped my backpack by the front door and tossed my jacket on the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom seated in her chair in the living room.

As I took off my shoes, she asked me to hang up my jacket and empty the dishwasher. It wasn’t an outrageous request, but I was feeling overwhelmed. It has been a stressful year already. Everything I was focusing on – classes, water polo, piano lessons and a host of other activities – was burying me.

After saying something angrily, I headed upstairs to my room. She called after me, but I kept walking and slammed my door.

Alone, my whirling thoughts calmed, and I mentally kicked myself. My mom wasn’t asking too much of me.

I know mother-daughter clashes are common. But I feel bad when my mom and I argue because our fights are about trivial things, and she has bigger things to worry about.

My mom has been through a lot in the past couple of years. Recently, she fought through her fifth round of cancer, and it forced me to rethink some things – especially our relationship and petty fights.

My mom is a cancer survivor, but more importantly, she is my role model. She is strong, caring and puts the needs of others before herself.

Her history with cancer started before I was born. At 26, she had skin cancer. A few years later, doctors diagnosed her with breast cancer. After treatment, she had a baby – my older sister. Then, the cancer came back.

She beat it, and then my twin brother and I were born.

Cancer can derail someone’s life, but my mom never gave up. She juggled two crying infants, an adventurous 3-year-old and the software development company she and my dad ran, all while recovering from radiation and surgery.

As cancer faded from our lives, she

32 Grant Magazine

helped instill in me the importance of family. Our summers were filled with road trips to national parks. By night, we camped out under the stars, and by day, we sang along to U2 and Prince, car-karaoke style.

For my 11th birthday, my mom and I had a mother-daughter weekend away from my other siblings. It was special. We stayed at Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood and bonded over games of cribbage.

A few years later, I wound up in the hospital for 15 days. I felt isolated, but my mom slept many of those nights on the room’s pullout couch.

Part of my illness had to do with a thyroid imbalance.

My thyroid issue resolved itself, but my mom began to think she could feel a bump on her own thyroid. Later that year, doctors hit her with bad news: thyroid cancer. She needed surgery.

By this time, my brother and I were starting our freshman year at Grant High School. My sister was packing to leave for college. I remember my mom’s illness made the normal back-to-school turbulence seem like a landslide.

A few days after school started, she had surgery.

That day, everyone was worried.

Walking to school, I was stopped by people I barely knew and bombarded with sympathy. My mom had already conquered cancer, so I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

But when I stepped into her hospital room after the surgery, I remember being scared. I saw her propped up by pillows

with white bandages on her throat, and reality sunk in.

At home, she took radioactive iodine pills for treatment. To protect our family from radiation, my mom confined herself to the basement. No one was allowed within six feet of her. I couldn’t even give her a hug.

Instead of being sad, she turned her situation into a joke. To this day, it’s referred to as the time we “locked her in the basement.”

Jokes like that subtracted from the worry surrounding her cancer. And it was typical of my mom: despite what happens to her, she always makes everything better for the people around her.

Earlier this school year, my mom had another brush with cancer. Her oncologist found a stage zero melanoma on her arm.

It wasn’t serious, but it still needed to be removed.

When I heard this news, images from her last hospital stay lingered in my mind.

On the day of the appointment, I drove her to the doctor’s office, skipping a hike with some friends. But it was worth it – I wanted to be there in her time of need. I waited in the lobby and supported her like she had supported me while I was in the hospital.

After a short time, she returned to the waiting room. I sat in a corner, trying to do the homework I had brought with me. But I was stuck on one thing – how completely lost my family would be without my mom.

She’s the caregiver, the loudest laugher and the rock.

As she made her way across the lobby to me, she mustered a smile.

I know my mom is tired of dealing with cancer, but she’s not done fighting.

Her story is not a cancer story – it’s one of dedication to others, of love for her family and overcoming obstacles.

I hope one day I can be as strong as her, but for now I’ll work on being more patient and stopping our petty fights. She deserves more. ◆

1925 NE 42nd Ave STE E Portland, OR 97213

nectarcoffeebar.com

House Roasted Coffee, Juice Bar, Smoothies and Food!

(503) 284-2825 3345 NE Broadway St. Portland, OR 97232

Serving students slices since 1996 April 2017

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Guitar Lessons Private instruction in the Grant Park neighborhood with nationally noted player and father of three Grant students.

“Taste, tone, and technique.”

–JAZZIZ magazine

“A fabulous ‘seminar’ on quietly building drama.”

–Guitar Player magazine

Design

“A guitar master.” –The Oregonian

Build

“A perfect synthesis of eclectic influences.”

–Acoustic Guitar magazine

eric@ericskye.com 503.309.0422

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Omar Martinez Becka Martinez Griffin c/o of‘98 503-956-0036 casabonitallc@gmail.com casabonitallc.net

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Bonded

A Young Professionals Company Production

A d v an c e t i c ke t s o n ly $10!

Written by Lyle Kessler APRIL 14–30 YP STUDIO THEATER 1939 NE SANDY BLVD, PORTLAND

www.octc.org Recommended for ages 13 and up.

(Langauge and mature themes.)

April 2017

35

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