October Issue 2017

Moving from the Grant Campus to the Marshall Campus this school year, many Grant students have criticized the neighborhood around the building. However, a quick look into the history of the neighborhood reveals why the area has been given these negative connotations.

Story begins on page 6.

In this Issue...

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SOutheast Stereotypes The Marshall neighborhood has historically been overlooked by Portland officials and residents alike, as reflected in the attitudes Cover Illustration by Claire Chasse of many Grant students. By Mackie Mallison, Ari Tandan and Nora Janowski

Photo by Momoko Baker

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tHE face of the community

New Recruits

OFF Campus

By Georgia Greenblum

By Grant Magazine Staff

By Marin Jurgens and Ella Weeks

As a beauty queen and a former police cadet, Skylar Pierce-Smith strives to represent the black community.

Fourteen new faces joined Grant’s faculty this August. Learn why they’re here and what sets them apart.

A variety of destinations to check off of your to-do lists as new members of the Marshall community.

Grant Magazine

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Healing Through Theater

Finding His Voice

Afterthoughts

By Axel Nielsen

By Stella Kondylis Breeze

By Jessica Griepenburg

One production proved to Isaac Sten that he still had motivation to act. Now, theater helps him deal with bipolar disorder and anxiety.

A passion for singing carried Pan Aalto through difficult times. Now he uses his talent to connect with others.

The author reflects on how undergoing a difficult surgery taught her to be independent.

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Unfamiliar Halls What changes do teachers expect to see in the next two years with the move to the Marshall Campus?

By Momoko Baker and Elliot Johnson

Photo by Momoko Baker

October 2017

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Quick Mag

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

Snack Spots GRANT

VS.

MARSHALL

QFC

Grocery Store

Walmart

McDonald’s

Fast Food

Burgerville

Blind Onion

Pizza

Domino’s

Baskin-Robbins

Sweets

Doe Donuts

Talk Back

These seniors reveal expectations for their final year as Grant students. Does the move to Marshall bring good things?

Interviews by Leah Venegas-Baer Illustrations by Ella Weeks

Pearson Rumsey “This entire new campus just feels like a whole new experience and I kinda feel like a freshman again. So, that will be interesting, but, it will also be good, hopefully, and I’m going to try and keep an open mind.”

Zoe Shaw “I’m actually very excited for Marshall. I think the only downside is the commute, but as an upperclassman I have a car, so that’s pretty handy. I am really excited for the courtyard and the lights on the football field; it will help our school spirit and will be a lot more fun.”

The Mini Profile: Sebastian Healy

By Allex Kelley Photo by Momoko Baker

When Grant senior Sebastian Healy’s mother first began to experience throbbing migraines, he was six and barely understood what having a sick parent meant. Much of his early childhood was spent sitting in front of the TV while his mom was distant and lacking in the ability to spend quality time with her family.

When Healy’s mother married for the second time and could finally afford treatment, Healy was forced to transfer schools. He found it difficult to connect with new classmates and transformed from a lively fourth grader to a reclusive and shy fifth grader. “I didn’t really talk to anyone.

Kane Brock “It’s very inconvenient to drive there every day, so I have to take the yellow bus, but it won’t be that bad. I think (the new Grant campus is) going to be really great for our future Generals and I wish I would be there to play baseball on the new turf, which I can’t.”

I was this weird, awkward, silent kid.”

However, that quickly changed after a weeklong trip to Outdoor School in sixth grade. Healy discovered that meeting new people wasn’t as hard as he’d made it out to be. “[It] made me a better person and more receptive to friendships,” he states.

Healy now volunteers as a counselor at Outdoor School twice a year, and the experience has taught him a lot since he first applied. “It helps you learn life skills and you grow as a person... you have to take care of kids, and they’re your responsibility,” he explains.

“If anything goes wrong, you’re to blame.”

A Brief Review: The Docks Whether you prefer the Hawthorne or the Sellwood location, the docks are a great place to hang with friends on a hot summer day. The Willamette river water may not be the cleanest, but it’s cold enough to satisfy its visitors when it is 109 degrees and your only fan is broken.

The docks have been a popular rendezvous point this summer, racking up hundreds of teenagers a week to lay around and bask in the sun or take a dip if they are willing to brave the questionable waters.

By Nora Janowski

By the Numbers: Marshall Campus schools that Marshall has held since its closure the year that Marshall High School closed 4

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bathrooms

staircases

classrooms

square feet in the kitchen

jugs of water

square feet in the cafeteria

In My Opinion...

CONTACT US

Handling Hate Speech

Grant Magazine 3905 SE 91st Ave. Portland, Ore. 97266 (503) 916-5160

After the Japanese community was targeted and threatened multiple times, little was done in support of those affected. But what should have been done and how will we learn from this?

By Kana Heitzman

Editors-in-Chief Jessica Griepenburg Mackie Mallison Ari Tandan

Story Editors Narain Dubey Georgia Greenblum

Design Editor Ella Weeks

Photo Editor Momoko Baker

Assistant Photo Editor Mako Barmon

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.

When I opened my phone and saw a photo with the words “Kill all Japs” written in dark red ink on a park bench in Grant Park, I didn’t think much of it. It seemed insignificant. I hear the word ‘Jap’ thrown around in my friend group so often it’s as if it has no meaning. The best thing I felt I could do WAS to ignore the hate speech, thinking it would blow over soon.

Growing up surrounded by Japanese people in the Japanese Magnet Program (JMP) as well as being raised in a Japanese household, I was always comfortable with my ethnic background.

I was used to others accepting my culture, so when the Japanese community was threatened my sophomore year and little support was shown, it made me question the amount of representation there was for Japanese students and staff at Grant.

After the hate speech was removed, Grant staff held a two-hour conversation with the administration and later an email was sent out to all of the parents informing them of the vandalism.

But even after reading the email, many Japanese students felt it wasn’t enough.

After no apparent change was made in the community, other students and I knew it was our turn to take charge. I met up with four other students of Japanese descent to discuss how we should address the lack of support we were receiving.

Through meetings and conversations, a safe space for students who were affected by the incident was organized. But again, this wasn’t enough. Approximately ten students attended the safe space and the conversation wasn’t continued in the following days.

I hadn’t heard of any conversations being started within the school and when the incident was brought up in my Japanese class a week after it occurred, the majority of the class was left shocked and confused, due to the lack of communication.

This lack of understanding could have been helped by an over-the-phone announcement, a thirty minute conversation within all classes or even a Race Forward event addressing the topic of hate speech. But the administration decided to do nothing.

Given the situation, the Grant community was left in a difficult position, questioning what to do next. Suspension of the offenders – which would

follow the normal punishment protocol – would have left those directly affected feeling safer within the school.

However, this protocol would not have been constructive and nor would it have prevented incidents like these from happening in the future.

When other incidents targeting marginalized groups occurred throughout the year, awareness was raised through protests and conversations in class.

But the lack of support from the administration made the Japanese community at Grant feel like discrimination towards Japanese students was less important than other issues.

Covering up the graffiti was not enough to solve the issue. The following day after school, a student was threatened to be killed because of his Japanese ethnicity.

Four white students with American flag bandanas covering their mouths approached him in the halls and pointed their fingers, yelling “Kill all Japs” at the student. This was a close friend of mine, and after seeing students fall into states of depression and anxiety – some afraid to even leave their homes – the severity of the situation hit me.

The students who targeted my friend remained anonymous; knowing that I was walking the same halls as the people that held these views made me feel unsafe and made it difficult to concentrate in my classes.

Principal Carol Campbell says there was more that should’ve been done but that this is a sign for the school to learn something new.

She says dealing with incidents like this is something they need to work on. Instead of working out the problem after something like this happens, Campbell says the school will organize events during and before something like this occurs.

As of now, little conversation has been started surrounding the subject. Even most students within the JMP aren’t aware of what is going on and the issue is still being treated as if it has little to no importance.

But this should not bring the Japanese community down. Instead we should all learn from this, let it empower us and take it into our own hands to prevent further incidents like this from happening.

What will you do to change the climate of Grant High School?

October 2017

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Meeting Marshall

Historically, the Lents neighborhood has been given fewer resources and has been negatively stereotyped by the wealthier communities surrounding it. The Grant community is no exception, labelling the area around the Marshall Campus as “dirty” and “dangerous.”

By Mackie Mallison, Ari Tandan and Nora Janowski It’s seven o’clock on an August morning in 2015 and Franklin freshman, Sam Oeding, braces for his first day of high school at the Marshall campus while the Franklin building is under construction.

The warm sun beats down on his back as he waits for a ride to school from his friend’s father. Oeding opens the car door and he and his friends begin their commute to the new campus.

But as they approach Marshall, Oeding observes a drastic change in the scenery of the area.

Turning onto Powell Blvd., he notices an abandoned lot crowded with tents and shopping carts. Oeding recalls his uncle’s concern after hearing that his nephew would be attending school at Marshall.

“He just thought it was … a bad area,” says Oeding. Oeding’s own perspective of the neighborhood quickly formed as well. “I thought school was going to be, like, this scary thing,” he says.

But Oeding’s opinion changed as the school year continued. “It turned out it wasn’t that bad and most people over there are just friendly, maybe a little lower class, because they live in this less fortunate and less privileged area, but they’re still these great people,” he says.

However, these first impressions of the Marshall neighborhood are not uncommon among Grant students.

Ever since Grant High School was founded in 1924, the area around the campus has been predominantly white and upper-class.

Because of the lack of wealth in the Marshall neighborhood, many Grant students have expressed concern about the move to southeast Portland, calling the area around the new campus “dirty,” “sketchy” and “dangerous.”

Kevin Mealy, a junior who lives in the Grant neighborhood, feels that the school should not have moved to the Marshall Campus; this is a common attitude among students in the Grant community. “It’s just not that great of an area,” Mealy says. “It just feels unsafe.”

However, Grant students who live in the Marshall neighborhood feel differently. Sydney Jones, who has lived in East Portland for her entire life, believes that the negative stereotypes of the neighborhood are “ridiculous,” and says, “You can’t make those kinds of assumptions about a place unless you’ve actually been there and experienced it.”

Experts say that it’s common for students like Mealy to feel uncomfortable when in a less wealthy neighborhood.

“People in general … like to live in their little neighborhoods and what’s comfortable to them, they have no reason to interact,” says documentary filmmaker, Sabina Haque. In 2016, Haque was the artist in residence with the Portland City Archives, the city’s official record of history.

Negative connotations about the Marshall area are not only prevalent in the Grant community, but within the greater Portland metro area. Because of the high number of crimes committed in the area, AOL.com named both the EastPort Plaza and Lents neighborhood – where the Marshall campus is located – as “dangerous” in their 2010 article, Safe and Dangerous Places in Portland. But a quick look back into history shows that these negative connotations stem from the lack of resources provided for the community.

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Grant Magazine

“It is one of the most dangerous places east of 82nd because a lot of the safety measures have never been put in place,” says Haque.

In the 1950s, land east of 92nd St. was considered “mid-county.”

Resources such as water, libraries and voting rights weren’t provided to the community by the City of Portland.

When contractors arrived in mid-county in the 1950s and 1960s, they were not required to install sewer lines in the suburban housing units. As a result, the entire area of 140,000 people had to purchase individual septic tanks, an expensive form of external sewage.

The City of Portland finally attempted to resolve the issue in 1983 by connecting the area to the city’s sewer line. However, the members of the community again had to pay for these services, which cost upwards of $13,000 per home.

“The problem … was that the way that these decisions were made was not inclusive. People didn’t feel like they had a voice,” says Haque. “There is a reason why East Portland residents feel gypped.”

Installing sewer systems was costly especially because the neighborhood was largely inhabited by lower-income people of color who had moved there in the 1970’s. Affordable housing was only available to people in specific neighborhoods, and families of color were forced to move east of 82nd.

Many of these individuals turned to gang activity and crime as a way out of the neighborhood. According to the Monthly Neighborhood Offense Statistics by the Portland Police Bureau, 2,423 crimes have been reported in the Lents neighborhood since August 2016.

Haque recognizes that the area is more dangerous than other neighborhoods in Portland, but wants to educate Portlanders about the underlying reasons. “If you are a youth living east of 82nd your chances of dying are actually higher because of the physical location of where you live,” says Haque. “This comes from … a series of people not taking responsibility for really creating proper development.”

Leading into the 2017 school year, many Grant students felt the same way about Marshall as Oeding did at first.

For Oeding, going off-campus during lunch helped him settle and adjust to his new environment. “The Subway lady would give us free cookies and it was just like welcoming and also good to have someone in that community that like was watching out for you,” he says.

Grant principal, Carol Campbell, attempted to inform Grant students about the Lents neighborhood over the summer by sending out emails inviting the Grant community to a picnic in the Lents neighborhood before the start of the school year. However, no members of administration attended the event.

But as the school year continues, Campbell says the administration will continue looking into ways to create an environment where students feel connected to the Marshall area. “This is our neighborhood now, this is our school, and we should be looking for different ways that we can be involved,” Campbell says.

Lynn Yarne, the digital media teacher at Grant High School, is integrating community building with the Lents neighborhood into her

teaching. “I’m hoping that more interactions with different types of people in a different area will create more more of an understanding and more visibility,” she says.

However, this is just one person. It’s going to take the entire Grant community to actively learn and to create a broader understanding of the neighborhood and the residents within it.

Haque agrees that the only way Grant students will feel

comfortable is if they form connections with the people in the Marshall neighborhood. “If we create a little bit of openness through art, through film, through direct interaction, we can find opportunities for more … cultural exchange,” she says. “Until the citizens actually want an equitable, sustainable city and realize that it’s in their best interest, things won’t change.”

Perspectives Sydney Jones, senior (pictured left) “I think (the stereotypes about the Marshall area) are because of the mindset. And I think it’s also where (the students) grew up. If they’re used to big houses, nice lawns, then that’s what they are gonna be comfortable with ... Maybe just because I grew up in (the Marshall neighborhood) I haven’t heard like ‘sketchy’ and ‘dirty’ and ‘dangerous’ ... I guess I can get where that’s coming from in some sense ... Obviously it’s not the Grant neighborhood, where it’s like big houses that are really nice and all that. (The Marshall neighborhood) ... is highly populated with Asian families, and I’m sure that plays a role in the thoughts of it being sketchy and dangerous ... (Grant students) need to learn how to live with people who are different from them ... whether or not you like it. Everyone has a different thing to bring to the table; it doesn’t matter of their skin color or their background ... You’re always gonna have a biased opinion because of how you were raised, because of where you come from so the opinions, the more cultures, the more anything that you can see, the more well-rounded you’ll be.”

Interview by Mackie Mallison, photo by Mako Barmon

Christhopher Yamasaki, sophomore (pictured right) “It’s definitely a lot more run-down. I think in terms of the general feel of the place … it makes you more uncomfortable definitely. But I think for me … I’ll play soccer after school but it’s not like I’m gonna be doing a bunch of stuff with friends there … Once you get out to Southeast it’s definitely more gang affiliated because you even see a lot of tagging and such from the gangs.

That’s what puts me on the edge the most. It’s just going to the more iffy places of Portland. In the Grant area I don’t think there’s very frequent gang fighting … If you go to deep North Portland it’s even worse and if you go to deep Southeast Portland it’s pretty bad.”

Interview by Mackie Mallison, photo by Momoko Baker October 2017

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Kevin Mealy, junior (pictured right) “(The Grant Campus) is probably a lot safer, most of the kids who go to Grant know this area a lot more ... Outside of the McDonald’s there are always homeless people sleeping … I wish we were back at the Grant neighborhood. Now we’ve got to have a new relationship with the new area. I think we should have a community event or a day where the whole school gets out and gets to know the community so we could get to know each other and not just be strangers ... it would make us more of a community and tie us all together as one.”

Interview by Mackie Mallison, photo by Momoko Baker

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Grant Magazine

Lynn Yarne, teacher (pictured left) “I think Portland is a very white city but there are … ethnic populations and Asian people, black people, Latino people … they’re kind of ignored. I think Grant has a perception of being wealthier, white and more affluent. It’s strange because the MAX stabbings happened over here but (Grant Park) isn’t considered a sketchy neighborhood, and it didn’t become sketchy even though something so intense happened right around there … whereas I feel like when there is a shooting or something similar on 82nd, it’s accepted as part of the stereotype. Just bringing up the conversation of ‘Are there negative perceptions (about the Marshall area)?’ I think it will open up a lot of wonderings. Maybe students will think: ‘Why do I have this negative perception? Is there more crime around (the Marshall) area than at Grant?’ Maybe so … But do I think that people are inherently violent over there? No.” Interview by Mackie Mallison and Ari Tandan, photo by Elliot Johnson

Jordan McCallister, sophomore (pictured left) “I’ve been over here before because my cousins live over here, and it’s not bad at all in my opinion … I don’t see people like getting in fights everyday or like bullets flying by ... People mind their own business out here. I know this neighborhood is completely different from my neighborhood and Grant’s neighborhood in Northeast. I just know that (there are) more people of color over here. It’s more diverse. All of the people of color, they have been … kicked out of their homes and moved out here towards Marshall … because the prices of housing has gone up. The students are going to have to deal with it whether they like it or not. When they go to lunch they are going to have to see people who are not of high social status like them or have the same type of currency that they or their parents do.”

Interview by Nora Janowski, photo by Momoko Baker October 2017

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Breaking the Stereotype Entering in beauty pageants and training to be a female police officer, senior Skylar Pierce-Smith is breaking down constructs and learning to be a role model. By Georgia Greenblum

T

he sun is shining on a clear fall day as senior Skylar PierceSmith sits in a Portland Police Bureau patrol car. Grant High School’s Resource Officer, Deshawn Williams, takes the wheel as they drive down Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd. PierceSmith watches as cars immediately slow to five miles under the speed limit as the cop car comes into view.

The computer on the dashboard lists plates and names of drivers that pass by.

Pierce-Smith sits shotgun, rather than in the backseat like many other black Americans due to racial disparities and mass incarceration in the United States.

Youth of color are far more likely to be arrested than white youth. Between 2003 and 2013, the racial gap between black and white youth being arrested increased by 15%. And as of 2013, black juveniles were more than four times as likely to be committed as white juveniles.

Pierce-Smith has pictured herself in a police car for years. Not because of these statistics, but because she wants to help and protect others. Growing up multiracial, Pierce-Smith struggled to find her identity and a sense of belonging. The Portland Police Cadet Program has given Pierce-Smith a platform to help kids dealing with similar experiences.

But helping others took on another face for Pierce-Smith in 2015 when she exchanged her cadet cap for a tiara, her uniform for a turquoise two-piece full-length dress and her heavy boots for shimmery high heels. For PierceSmith, being crowned Miss Black Oregon Talented Teen holds the same meaning as riding in the passenger seat of a police car.

“I have always wanted to be the role model for someone, and to put a face on what a young black girl’s future The Miss Black Talented Teen pageant has provided Pierce-Smith with a could be,” says Pierce-Smith. “I want platform. “I want to make my voice heard for those who are bullied,” says to be someone who is there to help the Pierce-Smith. “I don’t want anyone to have to feel how I did.” community.”

Photo by Vonecia Carswell, courtesy of Skylar Pierce-Smith On Aug. 2, 2000 Skylar Pierce-

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Grant Magazine

Smith – who identifies as black, white and Middle Eastern – was adopted from Texas at the age of two months by Melissa Pierce and Luke Smith, both white.

As a child, Skylar Pierce-Smith loved to dress up as Belle – her favorite Disney princess – and put on shows for her parents, reenacting scenes from movies or making up plays herself.

When Pierce-Smith was 5 years old, the family adopted another daughter named Maya, who is Hispanic.

Living in a family with different races, Pierce-Smith grew up valuing uniqueness. The Metropolitan Learning Center, where Pierce-Smith attended through 7th grade, helped ferment the values of community and family that her parents instilled in her from a young age. The caring and nurturing environment allowed PierceSmith to feel comfortable trying new things.

Pierce-Smith took every opportunity her school had to offer. She enjoyed the annual Winter Solstice performance as well as the talent show, continuously striving to push beyond her comfort zone.

While Pierce-Smith never felt different than anyone else, at the start of 6th grade she started to feel insecure about what she looked like. Though MLC was friendly, relaxed and an overall enjoyable experience for her, the start of middle school gave Pierce-Smith something she didn’t have before: the perception of race.

“Girls would ask, ‘How does your hair get so curly?’” says Peirce-Smith. “I realized I didn’t look like them at all. I didn’t have pale skin or straight hair.”

Suddenly Pierce-Smith found herself struggling to fit in.

In order to come to terms with who she was, Pierce-Smith began to look into her culture’s history. She found the movie “Boyz n the Hood” and hip hop music. Pierce-Smith started talking in African American Vernacular English – the informal speech of many black Americans.

As Pierce-Smith was exposed to AAVE more and more through movies and music, the way of speaking began to feel natural.

“My white friends would notice when I talked in (AAVE) and would ask, ‘Why are you talking black all of a sudden?’” says Pierce-Smith.

She no longer felt like she belonged in the community she once believed was accepting.

“It was a struggle for her,” says Melissa Pierce of her daughter.

“She had questions, but I think the hardest part for her was that she started to discover herself, to discover black culture and black history … and her friends didn’t know where all of this was coming from.”

But the increasing comments from Pierce-Smith’s classmates only made her more determined to find out who she was. By the end of seventh grade, Pierce-Smith was certain about her racial identity; her accumulated research about her heritage provided her with a sense of understanding she realized she’d been missing.

As Pierce-Smith began to accept herself, her parents realized the lack of black culture she had experienced up until that point; they decided to transfer her to the Self Enhancement Incorporated Academy – a predominantly black middle school – for her eighth grade year.

At first, Pierce-Smith didn’t want to leave MLC because she had known most of her fellow students since kindergarten. She was going to have to make new friends in 8th grade and then again in high school.

Culture shock hit Pierce-Smith hard when she transferred to SEI; 95% of the student body was black.

“Once I got to SEI I had black people saying, ‘You’re such a white black girl,’” Pierce-Smith says. “It was hard because at MLC

I had people telling me I was too black and then when I went to a predominately black school I had people telling me I was too white.”

However, as the year went on, the students at SEI began to accept Pierce-Smith. Birthday party invites were soon arriving at PierceSmith’s door, and she was making connections with friends during lunch.

It was at this time when Pierce-Smith started talking to her cousin – a cop in the Portland Police Department in Maine. But when Pierce-Smith began to express interest, her cousin tried to redirect her.

“He actually suggested I do something else because he says policing is a hard job,” says Pierce-Smith. “I told him I can handle hard jobs.”

With a big heart and determination, it was now Pierce-Smith’s dream to get involved and connect with others.

For Pierce-Smith, the duty of a police officer is to serve the community, regardless of the backgrounds or experiences people have. “You’re out in the community talking to people. They might not always be a threat,” says Pierce-Smith. “Police officers can make a kids day by handing them a sticker and that’s what I’m inspired by.”

It wasn’t until her freshman year at Grant, when Pierce-Smith joined the Portland Police Cadet Program through Officer Williams, that her dream came one step closer to coming true. The program is designed to offer an introduction to law enforcement for those interested in becoming police officers. When Pierce-Smith heard about the program, she instantly wanted to be involved.

For Pierce-Smith, starting the program was like walking through a door into a whole new world; she spent hours each week learning how to handle dangerous situations, learning how to shoot a gun and participating in ride-alongs with officers. The program provided Pierce-Smith with a new perspective on the inner-workings of law enforcement.

“I just wanted to learn about anything they would teach me,” says Pierce-Smith.

But the longer Pierce-Smith participated in the program, the more she noticed how black Americans view police officers.

“There were some people of color who thought it was good that I was trying to make a difference,” says Pierce-Smith. “But there were others who would call me a traitor and think it terrible to associate myself as a young black girl with the police department.”

Yet, no matter what the environment looks like, Pierce-Smith believes it is important to take on the responsibility of helping others and doing the best she can for her community.

“Black people are so nervous around police officers considering all the brutality and profiling that happens,” says Pierce-Smith.

“Putting a good face on police officers is important, especially for the black community.”

She’s not alone in this belief. Portland State University Sergeant Willie Halliburton recognizes the importance of connecting with citizens in order to establish trust.

“Getting involved in the communities as an officer and getting to know the people in the areas that you patrol will slowly give the ability to trust back to those communities that have been victimized,” says Sgt. Halliburton.

The opportunity to connect with her community presented itself to Pierce-Smith once again in her sophomore year, this time in the form of the Miss Black USA Talented Teen pageant.

Despite the fact that the pageant was like nothing Pierce-Smith had ever done before, she chose to participate with confidence and October 2017

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humility.

“I entered the pageant because I wanted to try something new,” says Pierce-Smith.

“I was surprised when Skylar said she wanted to participate in the pageant,” says Melissa Pierce. “It takes a while for Skylar to be comfortable with others, and we had never done a pageant before.”

The pageant consisted of a talent portion, a speaking section and a stage presence in both a dress and athletic-wear.

The morning of Pierce-Smith’s first competition was not any different from other mornings, and yet Pierce-Smith couldn’t help but feel anxious. “I was nervous to go on stage and perform my talent and answer questions on stage but my biggest fear was that I might trip and fall in my evening gown.”

Pierce-Smith’s heart skipped a beat as she walked on stage, smiling and waving at the audience in her long dark-blue dress.

Suddenly, the words of the announcer rang in Pierce-Smith’s ears: the 2016 Miss Black Oregon Talented Teen had been announced.

“I was like, ‘Woah I actually won.’ My mom’s crying and she never cries,” says Pierce-Smith. “All of a sudden it was very real for me.”

A tiara was placed on Pierce-Smith’s head as the audience erupted.

Pierce-Smith realized from that point on that she had become a role model for the Portland black community, like the role models she had once found in her favorite Disney princesses.

“I was suddenly recognized on the street and young black girls would start coming up to me and telling me they wanted to be like me,” says Pierce-Smith.

This experience has helped her realize that everyone has hardships, but overcoming them makes you stronger.

Pierce-Smith now found herself balancing school, dance, cheerleading, her Miss Black Oregon duties as well as the commitment she made to helping protect and support her community through the Portland Cadet Program.

In April 2017, Pierce-Smith traveled to Washington D.C. for the pageant’s national competition. She would be competing against 10 other girls for the title of Miss Black USA Talented Teen.

“Every girl at the pageant was darker than me. But no one made a comment whatsoever, which I was really afraid of,” says PierceSmith. “But that wasn’t (what it was about) at all. It was like, if you have black in you let’s see how you can be proud of that.”

During the speaking portion of the pageant, Pierce-Smith was asked: “If you could have a few minutes on national television to promote something, what would it be?”

For Pierce-Smith, bullying was the obvious choice. “My platform was all about bullying,” says Pierce-Smith. “I feel bad that others have had to go through what I have been through, and I want people to be comfortable in the skin that they’re in.”

Although she did not win nationals, Pierce-Smith took home the 5th place trophy, a $1,500 scholarship for community service, the People’s Choice Award and a determination to commit to bullying prevention in her community.

Since then, she has focused on cyberbullying and has helped with Grant High School during “Speak Out Week” to fight the silence that victims of bullying deal with on a regular basis.

Serving as Miss Black Oregon for two years and enrolling in the Portland Police Cadet Program, Pierce-Smith has found her spot: being a role model who shatters social constructs.

Not many women are police officers. Not many women of color are officers. And there are very few who may even be a pageant

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Through the Portland Police Department Skylar Pierce-Smith has had the opportunity to meet with other women of color interested in pursuing a career in law enforcement. Pierce-Smith became close with Jennifer Pedro (left) and Anjali Martinez (right).

Photo courtesy of Skylar Pierece-Smith queen. Pierce-Smith knows that she has a duty to show young black girls what they can do with who they are.

“After all the ups and downs of not being able to figure out who I was, having a little girl come up to me and say they look up to me was such a blessing because that little girl doesn’t know what I’ve been through,” says Pierce-Smith. “She just sees me in the moment for who I am.”

In June 2017, Pierce-Smith passed a written test and a handcuff test, allowing her to graduate from the Portland Police Cadet Program. But just because she is not putting on the uniform anymore doesn’t mean she is not making use of everything she has learned.

Pierce-Smith has taken the responsibility of speaking up for those that don’t have a voice and continues to educate others with her perspective from law enforcement.

One might see Pierce-Smith with pom-poms and a big bow in her hair on the sidelines of a Grant High School football game. Or one may see Pierce-Smith during a Portland parade, dressed up in a full length gown with a crown on her head, waving.

In the near future, Pierce-Smith may be found patrolling the neighborhood or on security patrol at city wide events as a full time police officer.

“Being a police officer lets me help those in times when they feel at their lowest,” says Pierce-Smith. “I have felt that way and I don’t want anyone to have to go through that.”

Pierce-Smith has found that she doesn’t have to choose between races or hobbies. Instead she will continue to believe in herself and build upon her experiences.

“Being in the cadet program and being crowned Miss Black Oregon were both character building events for me,” says PierceSmith. “I just want to make a difference.”

Pen & Ink Not So Nostalgic

By Marin Jurgens and Ella Weeks

Now at Marshall, we can reflect on the building we left behind. Here are some things we won’t miss about the old Grant campus.

The hole in the ceiling of the auditorium, that let in birds, planes, etc...

I can’t f-f-feel my f-f-face...

Ew...where did this come from?

This heater is b-b-barely working!

The broken windows that turned classrooms into the Antarctic in the winter...

Heads up!

The flooded locker rooms that made changing an aquatic activity in the not-so-blue water...

The dust-covered ceiling tiles that plummeted down from above at any given time...

...But despite all the quirks and dangers of the old Grant campus, we will always miss the building and the community around it.

October 2017

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Rookies in the Building Our new Grant staff members bring adventures and stories. Learn about what makes each of them unique. Photos by Momoko Baker and Mako Barmon

Anne Witt College: University of Oregon, University of Delaware Before Grant: Lincoln High School Family: dog, Pickles Position: speech language pathologist

Anne Witt grew up on the East Coast, which led to a few difficult adolescent years before moving to Oregon and attending graduate school.

“I went to a high school I wouldn’t consider a good fit,” Witt says. “It was a very competitive, traditional East Coast school. My coming of age didn’t really start until I was on the West Coast.”

Witt uses her unfavorable

school experience as an aid to her teaching. “I really encourage students to join a club or group,” she says.

Witt enjoys hiking and swimming while she’s not teaching. At Grant, she works alongside another speech language pathologist, Greta West, two days a week.

Witt assists students with communication difficulties, including speech and language

delays, stuttering or trouble while interacting in a social environment.

“My primary goal is to be an advocate, to be an ally, to be a voice for all the students that I work with,” she says. “If I can connect with those students and help them get a greater sense of community here, that would be a success for me.”

Jon Carr College: University of Connecticut Before Grant: Peace Corps, Sunnyside Environmental School, Lincoln High School Family: wife, Amy; sons, Solomon, Jonah, Noah; dog, Bagheera Position: World Literature, Perspectives in Latin American Literature, AP English

Jon Carr was heavily involved in volunteer work after college; he worked for the Peace Corps in Bolivia, building cabinets in a small city called Cochabamba.

Although his woodworking was helpful to the community, he realized that to really make a difference, he felt he needed to work in a place he knew well.

Carr moved to Portland and began teaching in 2003.

Though teaching is currently

his main focus, Carr still enjoys woodworking in his free time, as well as hiking and camping with his wife and three sons.

For Carr, teaching isn’t a religious calling - it’s just something he really likes to do. “I feel responsible for showing up each day and doing the best I can because I’ve got people in front of me that are counting on me,” he says.

Carr also understands the

nuances of teaching and connecting with his students.

“Knowing where people come from helps in addressing the needs and helping to shape where they’re going. That’s something that I think I understand,” he says. “I know where a lot of students are coming from, whether it’s socially, economically … I can have an inkling of where they are going in the future.”

–written by Ruby Donaghu

Ellen Rainey College: University of Missouri, University of Oregon, Lewis and Clark College Before Grant: Irvington Elementary School, Rigler Elementary School, Hosford Middle School Family: husband, Zac; cats, Una, Murray, Reggie, Josie Position: school psychologist

Ellen Rainey was born and raised in Columbia, Missouri, a college town and a hot spot for touring bands. As a teenager, Rainey loved socializing, whether it was going to concerts, playing the flute in the school marching band or taking photos of friends.

Though she loved school as a child, her admiration for education deteriorated when she reached high school. She resented the daily routine: waking up early in the morning only to come home to find more

homework to do.

While in college, Rainey regained her motivation to exceed in school and decided to attend University of Missouri.

After shadowing a family friend who worked as a special education teacher, she realized that teaching was a stable way to make a difference in the world. After working as a special education teacher for nine years, she discovered that she was more passionate about the behavioral analysis aspect of her work.

Despite Rainey’s own negative recollections of high school, she’s looking forward to her first year working at Grant. “Everybody takes care of themselves... so it’s easier to have positive interaction with students. I don’t always have to be the rule monitor,” says Rainey. “My goal is to make sure the students I serve get what they need ... and that I (take) care of kids who may be overlooked.”

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Grant Magazine

–written by Allex Kelley

–written by Ruby Haack

Anna Hume’s long-time interest in neuroscience lead to her decision to major in psychology. “I knew that working with people and understanding people and the science behind that could apply to a number of fields,” Hume says, “It didn’t feel very limiting, it felt like a very broad decision.”

Hume spent a year in Thailand teaching English, as well as working with at-risk youth and kids in state custody. “I’ve been

so many different places the last couple of years that I think that’s contributed to me being able to get into a classroom and interact with whoever’s there,” she says.

Remembering how much she had loved school as a kid, Hume decided it was time for her to return to a job in the educational field. Hume now teaches special education classes here at Grant.

She’s excited to be a part of the staff at Grant in particular because of the focus on social

justice. Hume recognizes the effect events such as Race Forward and assemblies about important issues such as LGBTQ rights have on students. “The attitude here spans beyond the walls of this building and goes back into the community and the world,” Hume says, “The kids will leave these halls and like carry on the message that is being instilled here.”

Brian Prusynski College: Central College in Iowa Before Grant: David Douglas, various schools in Oregon Family: daughter, Ester Position: Special Education

Though this is Brian Prusynski’s first year teaching at Grant High School, he has 25 years of teaching experience and has been an autism specialist for the last 11.

Prusynski attended a small liberal arts college in Pella, Iowa, where his love for the outdoors led to a major in biology.

Prusynski then taught adults with disabilities until he

received a certificate to teach science. However, he soon realized that his true passion lay with helping those on the autism spectrum; he felt he could relate to those with autism because he struggled to fit in at a young age. “I was very intrigued by a condition that made social interaction so difficult,” Prusynski says, “On some level, I can relate with people on the autism spectrum

and enjoy helping them.”

Prusynski didn’t start teaching at Grant until after the school year had already started, but he says he already enjoys the job immensley. “After being an autism specialist for a long time, I really try to understand kids at a really deep level, and when they can’t tell me what’s going on, I’m really watchful and try to figure it out,” he says. llll –written by Marin Jurgens

Nicholas Verbon College: University of Washington, UC Davis, Portland State University Before Grant: International School of Panamá, Bridger Middle School Family: wife, Carolyn; sons, Leo, Wes Position: Spanish

Ever since he was a kid, Nicholas Verbon loved the outdoors. Growing up in Fall City, Washington, he frequently swam at the Snoqualmie River.

“We hung out at the river a lot,” he says. “I was also a runner.

Running keeps me healthy and keeps me centered. It’s just a great way to relax and unwind after a long day, or before a long day.”

Now, most of Verbon’s time

is taken up by his two sons; even with a hectic schedule, the family still makes time to enjoy nature. “We have a really big garden and the kids really like it,” he says. “The kids help me harvest - well, I harvest, and they eat what I harvest.”

Verbon found his love for the Spanish language while teaching at the International School of Panamá. Being immersed in the language

while in Panamá led him to want to share that experience with others as a teacher. He truly wants his students to love speaking Spanish. “Learning another langauge is about promoting social justice,” Verbon says. “When we learn new languages, we are reaching across linguistic and cultural divides to welcome others into our hearts and lives.”

–written by Ruby Donaghu

Eric Wacker has been a social activist since he was 16 when he joined Food Not Bombs – an anarchist group that supports funding solutions for the homeless crisis, as opposed to giving money to the military. Wacker spent much of his free time in high school collecting bulk food donations and scavenging dumpsters for

edible produce to hand out to the homeless.

Though Wacker gave up Food Not Bombs after the birth of his son, social activism is still a huge part of his life outside of teaching physics and robotics at Grant.

“I am primarily a father these days, but I am still a social activist, again, mainly for homeless people, prisoners,

and immigrants,” he says.

Wacker is one of the few staff members at Grant who appreciates the Marshall move and shift in community.

“I love this campus, and the students, and the faculty … just everything about this school is so perfect and feels so comfortable,” he says.

Anna Hume College: University of Puget Sound, Portland State University Before Grant: barista, teacher in Thailand Position: paraeducator

Eric Wacker College: Portland Community College, Portland State University Before Grant: student teacher Family: wife, Edith; son, Eliot Position: Physics, Robotics

–written by Claire Chasse

–written by Allex Kelley October 2017

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Ashlee Brooks College: Stephen F. Austin State University, Texas A&M UniversityCommerce, Concordia University Before Grant: history teacher at various schools, Special Education at Southridge High School Family: son, Quinn; daughter, Skye Position: Special Education, case manager

Growing up in the South, Ashlee Brooks witnessed a great amount of prejudice and racism. Her move to Portland in 2012 was solely powered by her desire to have her children grow up in a healthier environment.

Brooks’ exposure to unjust situations has heightened her enthusiasm for one of many things at Grant: Race Forward.

“I really like the Race Forward work we’re doing,”

she says. “Watching that evolve over the past two years has been very exciting to me.”

When she isn’t teaching, you can find Brooks working at various McMenamins locations as a waitress.

Brooks likes to consider herself a “wannabe gourmet chef.” Although she never recieved formal culinary training, Brooks found she has learned from being involved in the trade. One of

her dreams in retirement is to own a restaurant.

Though Brooks has little experience in the special education field, she is eager to learn. “I moved to this position because it’s something I’m not an expert in, and I want to become an expert in this too,” she explains. “So it’s just another thing to learn about, and I’m a lifelong learner.

Chris Hawking College: University of Oregon, Portland State University, Lewis and Clark College Before Grant: restaurant manager, instructional coach Family: wife, Lisa; son, Henry; daughter, Anna Position: Grant Magazine, Intro to Grant Magazine, English

Chris Hawking may have Chris born Hawking have been in may Southern been born in Southern California, but at heart he’s an California, but at heart, he’s Oregonian. an Oregonian. Hawking’s Hawking’s parents’ parents worked in work the in the restaurant restaurant business,business and inspired to pursue he tried him to follow in theira business major at University footsteps. He began at University of Oregon. But of Oregon the philosophy looking to be a business buthim the classes he tookmajor, helped philosophy took discover his classes love of he thinking helped him discover on a deeper level, his andlove he of thinking on deeper level. eventually graduated with an “I realized English major. I could get to think those big thoughts “I realized I could get to through reading novels, and think those big thoughts

poems, stories.

In that through and reading novels and way, I kind of drifted toward poems and stories. In that English.” Hawking finished way, I kind of drifted toward at U of O as an English major.

English,” Hawking says.

He was, and still is, an avid An avid Hawking has writer, andwriter, has been published been published in Rethinking several times in Rethinking Schools Magazine and the Schools Magazine, and in in the book “Rethinking Popular Culture and and Media.”

Media.”

Post-college, Hawking Post-college, was working his as a restaurant managed family’s owner on Orcas Island.Island After restaurant on Orcas becoming dissatisfied with before moving to Portland to his work in business, become a teacher. “I got he to moved back to Portland to the point where I didn’t think become a teacher. “I got to I was being a role model for

the I didn’tathink my point kids, where just living life Iofwas being a role model for running a restaurant for my kids, just living a life wealthy tourists. It didn’t sit of running a restaurant for right with me from a social wealthy tourists.

It didn’t sit justice pointme of view,” says. right with from ahesocial Hawking justice point offeels view.” deeply passionate about politics, race Hawking feels deeply and equality.

“I think social passionate about justice work issues. is the Politics, right thing race, anddo,” equality that to he says.are “It topics just comes he is to interested “I think back caring in. about other social justice human beings.work is the right thing to do,” He says. “It just comes back to caring about other human beings.”

Chris Zeller College: Mount Hood Community College, University of Oregon, Concordia University Before Grant: student teacher, track and field coach Position: Fit 2 Live & Learn (Health and PE)

Growing up in Northeast Portland, Chris Zeller was involved in track and field all throughout high school and college. At Concordia University, Zeller majored in exercise and sports science, which led him to get a master’s in education.

“Teaching came to me when I wanted to help people with health and fitness. I didn’t want to be a personal trainer,” he says. “I wanted to help with the youth and help kids out with

physical fitness. I think there’s a lot missed in PE ... and I want to change that.”

Outside of teaching, Zeller enjoys snowboarding, wakeboarding, hiking and backpacking with friends. “We sleep in hammocks and go all the way up in the mountains where nobody can find us,” he says. “Camping has always been something I have loved, as a way to escape reality.”

Recently, Zeller was appointed as one of the sprint

coaches for the Grant track and field team. Zeller is thrilled to have the opportunity to coach. “I’m not here to be just a coach. I’m here to change someone’s life,” he explains. “I want to get my kids to college or to wherever they want to be. I’m focused on the Grant community and getting people to meet their goals. My goal is to make Grant’s goals.”

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Grant Magazine

–written by Haley Koski

–written by Ruby Donaghu

–written by Ruby Donaghu

Ray Byzewzki College: University of Oregon Before Grant: PE and Health Teacher at Marshall, Mt. Tabor Middle School, Milwaukie High School dean of students, Clackamas High School dean of students Family: wife, Mollie; daughters, Maddie, Hallie; dog, Autzen; two cats Position: athletic director

Angela DiPasquale College: Portland State University Before Grant: Albina Youth Opportunity School, Shanghai Jincai International High School, Reynolds High School, Madison High School Position: Living in the U.S., Government Economy, Constitution Team

Kelli Mitchell College: Illinois State University, Columbia College in Chicago, Millikin University, Bradley University Before Grant: Roosevelt High School, George Middle School Family: dog, Tango Position: counselor

Ray Byzewzki has been coaching since he was a student in college at University of Oregon. While he was in high school, relationships with his coaches and teachers were very important to him. Although Byzewzki played football in high school, he didn’t continue into college. Instead he started coaching at Sheldon High School in Eugene, Oregon. For Byzewzki, coaching is about making sure every student succeeds both on and off the field.

Growing up in Portland, Byzewzki attended Marshall High School where he became close with his coach, Darrell Everett, who the stadium at Marshall is now named after.

Years later, in 1988, Byzewzki came back to Marshall, this time to work as a PE and health teacher. He got the opportunity to work alongside many of his former high school teachers and reinforce old relationships.

Throughout his career, Byzewzki has made it a point to get students to reach their

highest potential. At Grant, his goal is to push every student to be the best they can be through following the Generals LEAD acronym (Live to learn; Engage with purpose; Advocate for yourself and others; Demonstrate your passion).

“My passion is working with young people and just trying to get them to become passionate about the sport and be as good as they can be,” he says.

As Angela DiPasquale explains why connecting with students is important to her, her eyes fill with concern. “It can be really hard when you feel alone and when you don’t feel connected to anybody,” she says. “I don’t want that for my students.”

Initially, DiPasquale volunteered at the Albina Youth Opportunity School. “I really wanted to make sure (teaching) was for me,” she says. “Within two weeks I knew without a doubt that I wanted to

be a teacher.”

Four years into DiPasquale’s teaching career, Albina Youth Opportunity School was shut down due to budget cuts. This set off a long pattern of different teaching jobs for DiPasquale, taking her all the way to an international school in China and back to Madison High School in Portland.

DiPasquale became a part of Madison’s Restorative Justice program, which builds community within the student

body. “We’re not always going to agree. We’re not always going to have those same view points, but it’s important to listen to each other so we can grow,” she says about the program.

Now at Grant, DiPasquale says, “I believe education opens a lot of doors; it’s empowering,” DiPasquale states. “I think it can be used for a lot of good in the world.”

Kelli Mitchell was born and raised in Decatur, Illinois. Her father worked as both principal and superintendent of her high school, which led to a bit of academic rebellion.

“I was rebelling against, just this expectation of what high school and being a student had to look like,” she says. “I pushed back and I made sure that people knew that I was an advocate for people who may be overlooked.”

Because her father was the superintendent, her activism

created tension within her household; however, the reactions from others didn’t persuade her to stop advocating for her peers.

Along with her activism, Mitchell found leadership and social skills through her school’s dance community.

Throughout her four years of high school, she danced on the varsity dance team and was named captain her sophomore year. Mitchell has continued to dance recreationally into her adulthood.

Mitchell intends to use her leadership and social skills as a counselor at Grant; she wants to create an impact on young people – the generation of the future.

“My primary goal is to be an advocate, to be an ally, to be a voice for all the students that I work with,” she says. “If I can connect with those students and help them get a greater sense of community here, that would be a success for me.”

–written by Stella Kondylis Breeze

–written by Jessica Griepenburg

–written by Ruby Haack October 2017

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Mapping out Marshall

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Grant Magazine

A collection of transportation lines, restaurants, and other hotspots to extend the new Grant experience beyond the Marshall campus. Reviews featured on the next page. By Marin Jurgens and Ella Weeks

October 2017

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The Reviews Scattered all around the campus, these twelve locations are perfect for eating lunch, hanging out after school or simply killing time. Scored on a five star scale, some are definitely better than others.

By Ruby Haack, Lucy Hays and Haley Koski

1

Lee’s Sandwiches

Rating: 5

Home to a wide variety of flavorful banh mi, pastries and drinks, such as bubble tea and smoothies. Lee’s is a very clean space with friendly staff and speedy service. A convenient, tasty stop for lunch. (Avg. $: $4-6) 2

Best Baguette

Rating: 5

Delicious banh mi, flavorful bubble teas and cheap chicken/pork buns. This sandwich joint is loud and often packed, although understandably so, with an alternative drive-through option.

Although not the cleanest restaurant, the delicious food and short wait time completely make up for it. (Avg. $: $1-4) 3

Walmart’s Super Store

Rating: 2.5

The experience is about what one would expect from a Walmart.

Although there is harsh fluorescent lighting and a lack of morale throughout the store, pretty much anything needed can be found here for low prices. There is also a Subway inside. (Avg. $: varies, mostly inexpensive) 4

Green Apple Frozen Yogurt

Rating: 3.5

Green Apple boasts a large assortment of frozen yogurt flavors as well as toppings but the yogurt itself is fairly average. However, there are board games inside, making it a fun after school stop.

(Avg. $: varies depending on topping selection) 5

HK Cafe

Rating: 4.5

More of a sit-down restaurant, this popular cafe is usually packed.

Dim sum is served until 3 p.m. every day. However, individual prices may be confusing as menus aren’t provided to patrons. The food at HK Cafe is absolutely delicious, but the long waits make it a better place for evening occasions. (Avg $: $2.50-6.00 per dim sum plate) 6

Fujiyama Sushi Bar & Grill

Rating: 3.5

Like most conveyor belt sushi restaurants, Fujiyama offers inexpensive plates. The presentation and dim lighting gives the restaurant a more formal atmosphere. (Avg $: $1.70-4.25 per plate)

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Grant Magazine

7

Wingstop

Rating: 4.5

Wingstop is a classic wings restaurant located in a strip mall with two televisions blaring ESPN, a dark interior and aviation-themed photos and decor covering the walls. Though the prices are a bit more expensive than the average lunch, the food is delicious with 11 different available sauces. (Avg. $: $7.79-17.09) 8

Happy Teriyaki

Rating: 2.5

The food and service from Happy Teriyaki are adequate, but the environment is dull and uninspired. Entrees are more expensive than the average cost of lunch, but the side orders are fairly priced.

Sufficient for a quick and cheap lunch spot. (Avg. $: $1.50-3.60 per side order) 9

Chuck E. Cheese

Rating: 3.5

Embrace the free entry and enjoy a lunch buffet while watching Munch’s Make Believe Squad perform one of their hit songs. The eyes on the animatronic animals look as if they’re sleep deprived, and their performance confirms it. The venue is surprisingly clean.

(Avg. $: $9.65 per pizza) 10

King Pins Family Center

Rating: 4

While the bowling experience is like any other, King Pins offers a wide variety of food. Appetizers cost as much as an average lunch meal. The menu also consists of lunches like fish tacos and quesadillas. (Avg. $: $9.99 per entree) 11

Lents Park

Rating: 4

Picnic-goers, families and athletes alike enjoy all that Lents park has to offer. There’s a beautiful garden and field space for playing soccer and frisbee, as well as baseball. A great place to spend afternoons with friends.

12

Century 16 Eastport Plaza

Rating: 5

Century 16 isn’t just your typical movie theater. Reserve a reclining seat after purchasing a ticket – self-service kiosks available. Prices are average and there is a wide variety of snacks to choose from. Sit back, relax and enjoy the movie. (Avg. $: $8.25-11.50 per ticket)

Acting out The Pain After struggling with depression and bipolar disorder during his sophomore year, Isaac Sten has learned that theater can teach him things nothing else can. Story by Axel Nielsen Photos by Elliot Johnson

I

saac Sten silently walks onto the stage at Oregon Children’s Theatre.

The lights are down, but the Grant senior can still hear the murmurs of the crowd. Sten settles into his place on stage amidst the piles of junk food wrappers, only an arm’s reach from the audience.

He opens a laptop and prepares for his first scene, running through the lines in his head as he receives his cue from backstage. The blinding lights begin to rise, reflecting off of his stage makeup.

Sten begins to type on his computer and slowly starts to emphasize his breathing, building the suspense. All of a sudden Sten jerks his left shoulder back, tensing his arm and shocking the audience, emulating the character’s anxiety through an anxious twitch.

Sten has always been fascinated by theater; he’s been performing in plays through both school and Oregon Children’s Theatre since he was a child. “I love theater because I want to make people feel things,” Sten says. “It feels good to step out of my own life momentarily.”

But beginning in high school, Sten started enduring severe chronic headaches. Soon after, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a mental illness that causes severe mood swings.

When Sten was depressed, he felt hopeless. “I always wanted to act, but I would get to the point where I was like, ‘You know, I don’t think I can do this anymore,’” he says. “‘I don’t think that I’m good enough … I don’t think that I’ll be able to pursue (theater) as a

future, so why try?’”

However, when Sten played a character who also dealt with mental illness, the connection helped him rekindle his passion for acting. “[Acting] gave me a purpose when I had no will to live.”

Sten was born on April 11, 2000.

His parents, Matt and Andrea Sten, remember him being comfortable talking to anyone and constantly looking out for other people.

From a young age, theater intrigued Sten. “I think … the acting aspect of TV shows and movies kind of stood out to him,” Matt Sten says.

Sten finds comfort in many aspects of acting. “A character written with anxiety and depression was proof that a lot of teenagers must have anxiety and depresson, and that was so comforting to me... I knew that I wasn’t alone with these problems,” he says.

October 2017

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Isaac Sten would often sit in front of the glowing television with his family, enjoying the 1960’s version of Batman.

While his parents and siblings would laugh playfully along to the show, Sten would pay attention to every detail carefully performed by the actors.

When Sten was eight, he asked his mom to sign him up for acting classes at Northwest Children’s Theater; he wanted to explore the interest he had developed from watching his favorite shows.

The classes at Northwest Children’s Theater taught only basic skills, but Sten quickly realized how much he loved acting.

In third grade, Sten performed in his first play: “Portland: The Musical,” at Alameda Elementary School. Dressed in a tie-dye shirt, bead necklaces, and sunglasses, Sten joyfully sang “Blowin’ in the Wind,” and ran around the stage holding a newspaper, announcing the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Sten was thrilled to be on stage for the first time.

After graduating from fifth grade, Sten realized that opportunities in theater at Beaumont – Alameda’s feeder middle school – would be limited. Not wanting to let go of his passion so soon, Sten begged his parents to apply for the lottery at da Vinci Arts Middle School, a school he knew put a lot of emphasis on the arts. Sten waited anxiously for a reply from the school and it finally came a couple months later: he had been accepted.

“I learned so much about people through acting … their wants and fears, everything. I feel like every time I play a character I learn more and more.”

- Isaac Sten 22

Grant Magazine

On his first day at da Vinci, Sten remembers feeling amazed. The artcovered hallways made the school more vibrant and colorful than Alameda had been. Even though Sten had expected a change in environment, he didn’t expect the comfort he felt when he walked in the doors of his new school. “Da Vinci felt like this magical place to me where I felt at home,” Sten recalls.

While other students pursued painting or dance, Sten had his heart set on acting. At da Vinci, he performed in three plays: “King Lear,” “I Ain’t Got No Home” and “Check, Please.”

In preparation for “I Ain’t Got No Home,” Sten remembers spending hours backstage painting brand names and logos onto burlap sacks to add more detail to the play’s set. Specifics like these were overlooked in his plays at Alameda.

Sten felt as if he had found his niche and he was confident in his theatrical abilities heading into high school.

But during freshman year, Sten’s health started to decline.

It started with daily chronic headaches. Sometimes, the headaches would be so severe that Sten would hear a ringing sound in his ears, hindering his ability to think clearly.

Soon after it started, the ringing would be replaced by a “skull-crushing pain.” Sten remembers leaving class often, heading to the nearest hiding spot, somewhere where he would feel safe and in control of the environment – usually a secluded space where he was unlikely to be found.

Sten began getting fewer hours of sleep each night and his grades dropped rapidly. He reached out to his counselor for help and together they worked out a 504 Plan, a system that provides extra support for students struggling with medical issues. Sten used his 504 Plan to get extensions on classwork and homework.

Despite these struggles, Sten’s acting continued to progress. He performed in two more plays and made many new friends.

By the beginning of sophomore year, Sten began regularly encountering severe anxiety, depression and bipolar mood shifts. Doctors believe the lack of sleep and constant pain triggered the mental health issues.

During the low points, Sten turned to

art and friends to help him out of the depression. However, it only continued to worsen. Looking for a new solution, Sten made the decision to go to a therapist. Starting in December of sophomore year, he visited a therapist one hour every week to discuss his struggles.

But in January and February, Sten hit rock bottom.

“Those were easily the worst months of my life,” he says. “I would just get home, go downstairs, put on a movie and just not function.”

During this period, Sten began to experience “mixed states” caused by his bipolar disorder, in which he would deal with a combination of mania and depression. “Mixed states are the worst because I’m depressed and suicidal,” Sten says. “There were a lot of times when I didn’t see myself having a future because I figured, ‘You know, if I’m gonna kill myself, what’s the point of trying … I’m not trying to go anywhere.’”

The closest Sten ever got to committing suicide was during a mixed state, but a phone call from his mom changed his mind.

Sten’s depression continued through mid-February when he started rehearsals with Oregon Children’s Theatre for his first professional play, titled “Chrysalis.” Sten played Nigel, a character who also struggled with anxiety and depression.

Playing a character who was fighting mental health issues – all the while combatting his own depression – took its toll on Sten. He often lacked the energy necessary to display the character’s emotions during rehearsal and had to take naps on a couch in the lobby.

Soon, though, Sten found himself drawing parallels between the character’s emotions and his own.

“Seeing how Nigel, my character, dealt with anxiety made me really think about how I dealt with it,” he says.

Because of this connection, “Chrysalis” became Sten’s purpose and it helped mitigate his struggles. “It was easily one of the most life changing experiences of my life, being in that play.”

Sten’s director, Matt Zrebski, says, “I think he began to have a lot of sympathy for that character, and I think

Sten leafs through an old prop from the play “Chrysalis,” remembering all that the play taught him.

“I learned to use the character as an outlet, so I would channel everything that I had into this character,” he says. he could reflect back on his own life as that character healed in the show.”

Zrebski believes that this is one of the most therapeutic parts of acting.

With the end of “Chrysalis,” Sten’s motivation and energy returned. He says the production helped him by proving he could do what he loved; he remembers constantly pushing himself to reach new goals and succeed. The motivation enabled him to improve his grades as sophomore year wrapped up.

At the beginning of junior year, Sten and his therapist came up with a plan that had him getting six to seven hours of sleep a night. This additional rest boosted Sten’s energy and motivation to focus on his priorities.

Zrebski says he has noticed a change in Sten recently. “He looks better to me than he did when we were doing ‘Chrysalis,’” he says. “There seems to be less stress on his face and in his shoulders and in his body. He just

seems more comfortable.”

Heading into senior year, Sten is thankful for what he has learned. “I learned so much about people through acting … their wants and fears, everything. I feel like every time I play a character I learn more and more.”

Sten is gearing up for his first real experience as a director, starting with a play he and his good friend are going to direct at ComedySportz, a theater often used for comedy improvisation.

He also plans to direct the “One Acts” at Grant in the spring.

With his improvements, Sten has been able to find excellent medications, which have been very beneficial. “I can actually count on my fingers how many times I’ve been depressed since I started that medication a couple months ago, and that’s huge.”

Even though it has been over a year since “Chrysalis,” theater continues to be extremely favorable for Sten.

“‘Chrysalis’ really helped me with my motivation, but each play that I’ve done since reinforces what I learned.”

The people closest to Sten believe that theater will be something he will be involved in for the rest of his life because of how important it was to his recovery. For Sten, this could mean a career in anything from acting to set design. He says he would enjoy any career in the drama department.

After high school, Sten believes he will attend either Portland State University or Southern Oregon University in Ashland because of the connection to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

Although Sten doesn’t know how far theater will carry him in life, he wants to continue to grow from it. “I learn about myself, I learn about others, it helps me deal with my problems and it teaches me life skills,” he says. “I just want to continue this.”

October 2017

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UNBOXING GRANT

As the community leaves the school it’s known for 93 years, Grant teachers reflect on the changes that will come with it. Interviews by Momoko Baker and Elliot Johnson Photos by Momoko Baker

“On the one hand I feel great because both of the people I’m sharing my classrooms with are other freshman English and Writer’s Workshop teachers ... but I definitely worry about students feeling like they don’t have a base, which is the whole point of freshman communities.”

-Mykhiel Deych, department 24

Grant Magazine

English

“I’m trying to figure out what I can do to provide a good learning experience for students when I have machines that are still broken and I haven’t been able to get a delivery in yet. I’m starting a new program so it definitely adds a layer of complexity.”

-Jamie Zartler, Woodworking

“I think it’s gonna be nice to have something to mix up the routine that we had … Sometimes we have a feeling of comfort that takes away from innovation and creativity. And so now, having to figure out how new spaces work ... we should have more opportunities and more potential for growth.”

-Brian McFadden, band director October 2017

25

Time With...Kai Tomizawa

In the Spotlight When did you first get into performing?

It’s always kind of been a part of my life for some reason. It’s been like breathing for me.

My parents say I (sang) before I could talk. My mom would play musicals in the house, some of them not so appropriate. So when I was like maybe four, I’d go up to people like, “You wanna hear me sing ‘Les Mis’?” and then I would sing a lot of explicit content. If I was in choir I would be in the front, and I’d be the loudest one. Or if I was asked to read, like in kindergarten or first grade, I would read it like it was a Shakespeare play. So I’ve always been super dramatic.

Which companies do you act with?

I act with Oregon Children’s Theater, Northwest Children’s Theater and Artist’s Repertory Theater, which is professional theater.

I just got into Oregon Children’s Theater’s teen theater company, and I was super excited, and I was finally allowed to say that to people.

What’s hard about performing?

I have stage fright. Backstage I’ll get really nervous and my stomach will hurt, or I’ll feel sick before opening night or if I know someone really important to me is going to be there. But as soon as I step on stage it all goes away, and that’s really magical. I actually think that nerves are really important. If you aren’t nervous before a show, you don’t care enough.

But it helps for me to kind of jump into the role - it gives me so much energy on stage. I channel all the nervous energy into emotions and performance energy.

Do you have any hobbies aside from acting?

My sister, Mika, and I can ride unicycles. We used to go on unicycle excursions, just ride around ... it was a really good icebreaker. We’d make friends over our unicycles. In fourth grade I started a unicycle teaching company.

I called it BUTT – B-U-T-T: Basic Unicycle Teaching and Training ... Yeah, the name was super intentional.

You did well in a national competition for young playwrights. What was your play about?

It was about religious hypocrisy, I guess, tolerance and acceptance within religion. I think that’s really important right now – I

26

Grant Magazine

A performer opens up about her experiences as a young Asian-American actress on the Portland theater scene.

Interview by Ruby Donaghu Photo by Momoko Baker

didn’t know how important it was going to be because I made it about a year ago. In my family, someone was, I guess, intolerant of the Islam religion ... she’d say things and I was so confused by it, and I just kind of built off of that.

Name: Kai Tomizawa Age: 14 Pronouns: She/her Hobbies: Drawing, unicycling, making short films Favorite Musical: “Jasper in Deadland”

Have you won any awards for your performances?

I won a (Portland Area Musical Theater Award) for my role as Junie B. Jones and I was nominated for my role in Pinkalicious. I also won a Drammy for “Best Young Performer” which was for both straight plays and musicals. When they called my name for the PAMTA, I went into a little bit of shock, and everyone ushered me onto the stage, and I stood there behind the podium – which was a little bit taller than me – and I started thanking as many people as I could. Except for my parents, which I will never hear the end of. For the Drammy, I was so sure I wasn’t going to win that I went to Hawaii during the ceremony.

Because I was so sure. But then I got a text from myifriend that said I won! And I was thinking, ‘Who the heck is in charge here and how could they make this lll error?’ But, I lllllllllll had won!

llllllllllllllllll llllllllllll llllllllllll llllllllll lllllllll ll And that was probably the only xxtime I ever wished I wasn’t vacationing x in Hawaii.

How has being Asian American xaffected your experience as an actor?

There’s like the stereotypes like the nerdy math geek or the sushi chef or the karate teacher or the tiger mom. And I hope that in the future there are roles that show the Asian artist like me, or the political activist like my mom, or the funny guy that everyone wants to be around like my dad ... I like when directors are able to push the barriers. I was in “A Civil War Christmas” and the character I played was a wannabe confederate soldier. They did very alternative casting ... That was the first show I did with Artist’s Repertory Theater. They put a lot of actors of color into traditionally white roles, which was really really really great.

Meet Pan.

Music helped Pan Aalto through loss. Now he hopes that sharing his story will help others find strength as well.

Story by Stella Kondylis Breeze Photos by Mako Barmon

S

tepping up to the microphone, then freshman Pan Aalto stares out into the crowd of cheering students. The auditorium goes quiet as he starts to sing, interrupted by a few shouts of encouragement. Soon the room is filled with the sound of Aalto’s voice accompanied by an electric guitar. A little over a minute into Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful” the auditorium brightens with the light of students waving their phone flashlights above their heads as they sing the chorus along with Aalto.

After the last note disappears from the air, Aalto walks off the stage to thunderous applause. As he left the auditorium after the 2017 Rose Festival assembly, Aalto was approached by students and staff alike, complimenting his performance.

“I felt like I was speaking out for the minorities and people who really need to be told that they are important, that they are beautiful, and it does matter that they’re here and it does matter what they say.”

For Aalto, music is a coping mechanism. He went to music to help him overcome grief after the death of a close friend and as he began to face an internal struggle with his gender and sexual identities. Starting in seventh grade he began to question both; Aalto was frustrated with himself because he couldn’t figure out how he identified.

“At that point of time I needed to rely on something that I loved a lot, which would be music,” he says. “It wasn’t a person that I could rely on because I knew that was too much to put on one person. I needed to put it into something that I was

so passionate about, that I could just do it for hours.”

Now finding himself in a supportive community at Grant, Aalto has begun to share his story with others. He wants people to hear his experiences and know that it’s okay to be themselves.

“I think that it’s important that people have someone in their lives that’s similar to them and someone who makes them happy, and makes them feel loved and wanted.”

Born on July 9, 2002, Aalto’s early childhood was filled with family. While growing up, his cousin and uncle lived with him and his parents, and they spent a lot of time playing together.

He remembers going to his grandparents’ church for a craft sale every Christmas.

“I had everything I needed at that point in time … in transgender stereotypes that I’ve seen a lot, there are lots of people that knew that they were trans when they were three, or showed ‘signs’ of it. But I never showed those kinds of signs, I was who I was and I was happy being that person,” Aalto says.

Aalto credits his happiness as a young child to his parents allowing him to be whoever he wanted to be. “For me I was a girl until I wasn’t. I loved being a girl, I loved wearing whatever I wanted to wear, I loved to play with whatever I wanted to play with,” he remembers.

Aalto was exposed to a variety of music by his parents at a very young age, including John Coltrane and The Beatles.

Aalto’s father, Mark Aalto says, “There’s normally music going on in our house most of the time. I grew up playing gigs around town.” Aalto remembers his father, who is a musician, October 2017

27

trying to teach him to play the drums and the family listening to music together.

Donna Aalto, Aalto’s grandmother, recalls Aalto being able to sing from a very young age. “Pan could carry a tune before he was one year old. I love the authenticity of his soul,” she says.

The family’s love of music fostered a passion for singing in Aalto. Starting in second grade, he did choir with his elementary school. Aalto remembers singing the same songs every year and yet the repetition didn’t bother him; he looked forward to singing those songs again and again.

Aalto remembers sitting in the auditorium at Beverly Cleary during elementary school and watching the Royal Blues – Grant’s well known competition choir – perform. He looked forward to seeing the Royal Blues every year. Aalto longed to

be on the stage singing with them.

Despite Aalto’s love for singing, he was shy, and it was difficult for him to share his singing with other people. “I’ve always been a really talkative kid and really social but when it comes to singing that’s kind of my secret identity,” Aalto says.

Aalto’s first solo was in third grade. He got a part in “Portland: The Musical” which was directed by his elementary school choir director. Aalto remembers being surprised but excited to be cast as a rose queen. But as he stood on the stage, wearing a white dress with red roses and looking out into the audience on the night of the performance, Aalto’s nerves began to catch up to him. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to run off of the stage and away from the crowd of people watching the show.

But singing in elementary school motivated Aalto to continue with choir. He began learning more challenging music and

found a very supportive group of people. Choir always gave Aalto something to look forward to in the mornings before school.

His choir group even visited Grant to sing for the Royal Blues. He remembers getting critiques from John Eisemann, the Grant choir director, and deciding that his dream was to improve his singing in choir at Grant.

“That moment when you’re in a crowd and you hear a piece of music that moves you so that you feel like you’re in it is always what I’ve felt from the Royal Blues and Acapella,” Aalto says. “So being able to see (Eisemann) telling us how we can improve, I knew right then that I was definitely going to Grant and I was definitely doing the choir.”

When Aalto was in sixth grade a new student arrived at Beverly Cleary named José Tomás Oviedo Orozco. Orozco was from Colombia and was living in Portland with his aunt.

On Orozco’s first day at Beverly Cleary, Aalto approached Orozco and asked if he wanted to be friends. “I was like, he’s from a different country, that means that maybe he needs someone to be there for him,” Aalto says.

Orozco said yes and as the months went by they got increasingly close.

Aalto remembers how funny Orozco was and how he liked to tease his friends.

They regularly played frisbee outside and once they went rollerskating together.

On Aalto’s thirteenth birthday, Orozco gave him a bracelet that Aalto still wears in memory of his friend.

After six months had passed, Orozco went back to Colombia.

They continued to stay in touch via Skype, but as time went on communication started to diminish between the two.

Then, in March 2014, Aalto got word of a car accident that took Orozco’s life. He was in seventh grade at the time. As the year went on, Aalto’s family

For Pan Aalto, being a part of choir at Grant has been a transformative experience. “Now not only am I able to hear the music in my head, but I’m also learning how to write it down,” he says.

lost Aalto’s great-grandmother and his maternal grandmother was diagnosed with lung cancer. “I became, in those next few months, accustomed to that look my parents had given me that someone else had passed away,” Aalto says. “So from that first look on, I knew exactly when something was wrong.”

Orozco’s death held a lasting effect on Aalto. At first, because they were in different parts of the world, it felt like there was no way of knowing if he had really died. But when Aalto’s counselor at school showed him pictures of the crash it became real.

With Orozco’s death and the loss of other family members, Aalto began questioning everything in his life. “I hear that he’s dead and I can’t do anything but rely on news that was made across the world,” Aalto remembers. “So it made me kind of question everything and every aspect of what was real and what was not real.”

The questions surrounding the death of his friend lead Aalto to look inward and re-evaluate who he was. He struggled to understand why everything seemed to be happening at once.

Because he was losing people who had helped him create his world, he didn’t understand who he was without them.

At the time Aalto identified as female, but tried to act more masculine. “I was always doing sports and trying to show people that I was really masculine and I never really understood why I was trying to do that,” he says.

Aalto’s close friend from elementary and middle school, Maddy Fleck-Hannan – now a sophomore at Saint Mary’s Academy – recalls that Aalto was never very “girly.” Looking back on the time before he transitioned she now recognized small changes that she didn’t notice at the time.

“I think the biggest thing was that his clothing was starting to change and his outlook towards girly things was starting to change. He was wearing pants and more boyish stuff,” FleckHannan remembers.

While Aalto was struggling with his identity, music allowed him to escape from what was going on around him. It also gave him a place to be himself.

“Having music when I was in seventh grade when all of this was going on was one of the biggest blessings that I could ask for,” Aalto says. “It was that kind of thing that I could turn to when I needed support. I would listen to sad music and it would help me just relax and get everything out of my mind and kind of just let me be someone that I was supposed to be. Because I couldn’t figure out who that was and that was the biggest problem.”

Aalto began trying out labels, including lesbian, bisexual, pansexual and genderqueer, following a friend who was experimenting with their own sexuality and gender identity. “I felt like a label would be a little bit easier than just being who I was. I went between a lot of things. I knew that I wasn’t just this one person, I knew that I wasn’t just this girl in seventh grade, who was straight,” he says.

Throughout this process, Aalto was very open with his parents. By the end of his seventh grade year, Aalto knew he was transgender, but his transition continued to be a long and painful process. “I knew that I was a person but I couldn’t figure out who that was. It took me a long time. In fact in eighth grade I still had long hair and I didn’t go by he/him pronouns,” Aalto recalls.

Mark Aalto recognizes that it was a very difficult time for October 2017

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Pan. “Pan tends to be pretty logical, so I think the harder part was that this was something that is very emotional,” he says.

“Pan was having to try to work his way through feelings.”

One of the hardest things for Aalto to deal with while transitioning was hiding who he was from his extended family.

He remembers feeling relieved when he finally came out. “I started crying, I was like, ‘Wow this is actually happening,’” Aalto says.

He remembers his uncle’s response to the news of his transition. “He used to call me ‘niece’… And the day that I came out he goes, ‘I love you so much nephew Pan.’” At that point Aalto knew that, although his transition had been long and painful, things were going to be better from then on. “(Transitioning) was great because it gave me time to figure out who I was,” Aalto says. “That time really helped me figure out that everything was going to be okay, I just needed to figure everything out and it would be okay.”

The first days of his freshman year at Grant were incredibly stressful. “I was really scared in the beginning of the year because I was in a whole new setting,” he says. “I was really nervous that I wasn’t going to pass ... lots of people had to ask me about my pronouns.”

Aalto quickly found his niche in Men’s Ensemble. He was instantly accepted into the group and never felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there. “I’ve actually found that Men’s Ensemble is one of the most accepting groups of people that I have ever met, and I love to be with them, I love singing with them.”

Men’s Ensemble gave Aalto a whole new perspective on music and singing. He learned how to take the music he hears, write it down and calculate the beats.

Through choir at Grant, Aalto has received several opportunities to share his talent and passion for singing. The first was at Grantasia in January of 2017 where Aalto had a solo with Rami Holmes, another freshman. It is rare for a freshman to be awarded a solo in Grantasia.

“I was really insecure, I was thinking about what my hair looks like, what my button up and pants looked like … I was just nervous that I wasn’t getting the pitch right. I was freaking out about ‘Oh my god I’m in front of a ton of people and we’re singing a Christmas song in the middle of January,’” he remembers.

As a part of the LGBTQ+ community Aalto felt it was important for him to participate in the Speak Out Assembly when asked by a friend. Given only a day to prepare, he wrote a piece about his experience as a gay and transgender person.

He was nervous that what he had prepared wasn’t right, as he hadn’t seen anyone else’s piece. However, in the end, Aalto was glad he participated. “I would love to be the kind of person that people can look up to, and be like, oh I want to be like that person, and hopefully do really good things with my life,” he says.

Aalto hopes that he can be a role model to people like him,

because he didn’t have anyone to look up to or relate to when he was beginning to question his gender or when he started to transition.

Aalto’s first year at Grant gave him almost schoolwide recognition and an opportunity to grow and improve his singing. Mark Aalto was impressed with how supportive and welcoming the Grant community was, and says it has helped Aalto to grow. “It seems like Pan has really blossomed … he’s really gotten a chance to develop the talent,” he says.

Aalto hopes to become more of a leader in the LGBTQ+ community at Grant by sharing his experiences. He would like to be a person that people can come to to talk about their struggles, so that he can be there for them, and no one has to feel alone like he did while going through loss and struggling with his identity.

“I want to be there for others and help them get through what I was going through. Having that person, and having that positive outlook, saying ‘You know you’re going to be okay, we’re going to get through this. Even if it’s not going to be okay then you have my shoulder, I’m going to be here for you.’

That’s what I needed at that point in time, and I want to be there for people who need that now.”

Recently Aalto posted an original song to his YouTube channel, titled “Bounty Hunter.” Aalto was inspired to write it after hearing about President Trump’s proposed ban on transgender people in the military. In the beginning of the video Aalto explains his experience of looking for someone like him in the media, and how he wasn’t able to find that role model.

“I remember in my transitioning period of time, when I was younger, in the start of my transition, I was really looking for someone to look up to, preferably someone who was pre-T, because I was as well, and right now I still am pre-T, pre-everything. So I was really looking for someone who was similar to me who liked singing and music. But I didn’t find anyone, and even though I had friends I still felt really lonely and didn’t feel represented.

So I’m hoping that I can be that person for someone in the future or in the present or anytime,” Aalto says in the video.

Both friends and family can tell that Aalto is more sure of himself now than he was before. Fleck-Hannan says, “He is definitely a lot happier and more comfortable in his own body I think. He’s always been happy, but I can definitely tell he is a lot more comfortable with himself.”

For Aalto, the journey to find himself isn’t over but through music he has found a place where he can be happy and be himself.

“It was difficult to try to find my truth, which I still don’t think that I’ve found and I don’t think I’m going to be rushing that anytime soon. But I think that it’s important that people have someone in their lives that’s similar to them and someone who makes them happy, and makes them feel loved and wanted.”

“Having that person, and having that positive outlook ... That’s what I needed at that point in time, and I want to be there for people who need that now.” – Pan Aalto

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Grant Magazine

To hear Aalto’s voice visit grantmagazine.com/pan

Afterthoughts

Standing Alone Recovering from a big operation can turn fear into independence..

By Jessica Griepenburg Illustration by Claire Chasse

I

couldn’t focus on the surgeon’s words. He gestured toward my X-ray pulled up on his computer, but his words were muffled. It was easier to block him out than force myself to listen to him describe the things that were wrong with my back. I tried to make myself smaller as I sat on the examination table, hunching my shoulders and folding my arms over my chest.

This appointment was so similar to the ones I’d been to over the last few months, yet something was different. My parents were quieter, the surgeon’s voice more serious, my usual anxious symptoms more intense. I couldn’t stop biting my nails and my eyes were glazed over as I stared off into space.

I had scoliosis, a condition that curved my spine toward the right. I’d only known about it for two years, but my curve had steadily gotten worse in that short period of time. Check ups with my orthopedic surgeon had become regular.

The mention of surgery came suddenly and abruptly.

I caught snippets of the surgeon’s words as he mentioned how my curve had continued to progress even though I’d stopped growing. I realized he was describing reasons why getting back surgery was a smart decision.

“We could do the surgery now, or we could wait a year to see how the scoliosis progresses,” the surgeon told me.

I’d known my scoliosis was bad, but I didn’t know it was bad enough to warrant surgery.

The room suddenly felt small and empty. When I opened my mouth to speak, my voice sounded foreign, as if it wasn’t even mine. “Let’s just do the surgery,” I said. “Get it over

with.”

The orthopedic surgeon asked if I was sure, giving me a chance to back down. I nodded, the lump in my throat preventing any more words.

The surgeon launched into the details of the surgery but my eyes went back to the X-ray and his voice faded into the background again.

I glanced at my parents; both had tears in their eyes.

My whole life, every time I’d been presented with an important choice – whether it was staying in the Japanese Magnet Program through high school or quitting basketball in middle school – I’d sought advice from family and friends before choosing what felt like the best option. But this time I couldn’t do that. I only had a few seconds to answer the surgeon’s question; there was no time to think it over or talk to my friends and my parents. No one could make this choice for me.

The procedure was called a spinal fusion. Just hearing the surgeon say it filled me with hesitation. Did I really want this? Metal rods would be screwed into my spine in order to straighten it out. What if something went wrong?

The months that followed that appointment were filled with a nagging worry. Had I made the right choice? My medical history was spotless – not even a sprained ankle or a broken wrist. Surgery is the one medical procedure that has always terrified me.

As the surgery got closer, my fears increased. Despite poring over thick packets filled with information about the procedure, I still felt I didn’t know what to expect.

When I’d first decided on surgery back in January 2017, my back pains were few and far between. But when school October 2017

31

came to a close, I was feeling discomfort almost every day.

Going on runs after school usually helped me relieve stress, but running made me feel lopsided and off-balance. Sitting for too long left me aching and stiff. Surgery was necessary; there was no getting around it. But I was still afraid.

When we arrived at the hospital at 5:30 AM on July 3, I was in a sour mood. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and when I had to, I wasn’t very kind. My fear, mixed with the chaos of the morning, was getting the best of me.

I lay on the hospital bed in silence, waiting for the nurse to bring medication. A phone call from my boyfriend and the nurse’s jokes improved my mood momentarily. Yet I couldn’t stop worrying about worst case scenarios where I woke up in the middle of the surgery, or didn’t wake up at all.

My memories before I was given anesthesia end in the preop room, surrounded by my smiling family and comforting nurses.

The rest of that day – the surgery itself – was the easiest part for me. But for my parents and little sister, it was torture.

While I was in a deep sleep, they sat anxiously in the waiting room, or walked around the hospital throughout the entirety of my nine-hour operation.

The five days I spent in the hospital after surgery were a fog of tears, sleep and medication. I was constantly exhausted and in pain, drifting in and out of sleep and suffering from frequent breakdowns. I spent almost all of those five days in bed and barely ate anything. Every time I woke up, there was a new nurse coming in to help me with medication.

I had an overpowering feeling that I was completely and

X-rays of scoliosis before (left) and after (right) the surgery. Courtesy of Jessica Griepenburg.

32

Grant Magazine

utterly alone in this. No one could teach me how to do the things I’d taken for granted. My back was stiff, rigid and in constant pain. I lost all flexibility and the smallest of tasks left me exhausted.

That feeling worsened when I got home. I was frustrated with myself because I couldn’t do the simplest of things without running into a problem. I couldn’t bend over the sink to brush my teeth or hold a glass to my mouth without spilling. My meltdowns didn’t stop when I got home from the hospital; if anything, they got worse.

I spent all day and night in my parent’s bed. Social media fueled my loneliness with bright pictures of my smiling friends, many of whom were on a school trip in Japan. The few friends I had that had stayed in Portland came to visit me a few times, but I didn’t feel like my usual social self.

I didn’t eat because I was often overcome with nausea.

I could only sleep after taking pain medication. At times, I wished I was back in the hospital; while the constant rotation of nurses had been confusing, it had made me feel less alone.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped wallowing in selfpity. I deleted social media apps from my phone. I started reading again, returning to childhood favorites that filled me with a sense of comfort. I started taking pride in small victories, like walking to the end of the block or making it up and down the stairs without help. The time I spent alone felt less lonely.

While my friends were finding their independence on a school trip on the other side of the world, I was finding mine in the confines of my own home.

Soon I was taking daily walks, going farther from my house each time and wearing what I wanted, rather than picking my outfits based on what would cover my scar best. I started spending more time with friends and family. By the time I started physical therapy in mid-August I was completely off my medication. Though I wasn’t even close to full recovery, the progress I’d made so far felt like a cause for celebration.

On the morning of the first day of school this year, I was sitting in the car next to my sister. It would be her first day of middle school and my first day of my junior year of high school. I was terrified. I felt nauseous, I was sweating and my hands were shaking. I was close to tears. I couldn’t stop replaying the times that graduates had told me junior year was the hardest year of high school. I didn’t feel ready. But thinking back to my surgery calmed me down. Remembering that old fear didn’t make me more scared; it made me feel strong.

I’m still struggling to keep ahold of that independence I found this summer. Every day presents new challenges.

My five-pound limitation on how much I can hold prevents me from carrying supplies for all of my classes. One class period can leave me exhausted and feeling over-worked. But now I listen to what my surgeon has to say and engage in conversation instead of blocking him out at my follow-up appointments. I look at my X-rays with pride. And though I may be unsure of my future, I stand tall and hold my experience with me. Because I am no longer afraid.

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WE’∏EWE’∏E P∏OUDP∏OUD TO SUPPO∏T G∏ANTG∏ANT HIGH SCHOOL! TO SUPPO∏T HIGH SCHOOL! Visit aVisit neighborhood bakerybakery for delicious breads, a neighborhood for delicious breads, freshlyfreshly bakedbaked pastries and sandwiches, soupssoups and and pastries and sandwiches, saladssalads made made with carefully sourced farm-grown with carefully sourced farm-grown ingredients.

See you ingredients.

Seesoon! you soon!

For a list pleaseplease visit grandcentralbakery.com Forofabakeries, list of bakeries, visit grandcentralbakery.com

new construction + alterations www.cynthiamosby.com

Adaptive Yoga Classes at the Irvington Club Thursdays at 10:30 - 11:45 Adaptive Yoga classes are designed for students with a variety of needs who are looking for a safe place to experience yoga. The classes are conducted using yoga chairs and various other props for support and balance. The students are guided through a gentle sequence of movements synchronized with breath that helps develop strength, flexibility, stamina and mental clarity.

Pre-registration is necessary as space is limited to 10 contact: irvingtonyoga@gmail.com

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Members $10 ̆ Non-members $12