An Ode to Turkeys: celebrating my identity

Ella Shi ‘23 Paper Managing Editor

“Dad! Can you help me put the turkey in the oven?” I hopped off the wooden step stool and admired my perfectly seasoned, buttered and twined turkey sitting in a roasting pan on the kitchen counter.

“H o de, láile (Okay, coming),” he called from the living room couch.

As the turkey approached 165 degrees Fahrenheit, I set the table for my family of four, making sure to include chopsticks for my parents, along with forks, spoons and knives.

For many, the image of an 8-year-old girl wearing an apron and basting a 12-pound bird, mashing russet potatoes and folding pie crust might be shocking. However, growing up, I was always ready to take on a challenge—I hated being told that I was “too young” or “not mature enough.” I always rejected dolls and toy cars, and instead, opted for cooking and baking— maybe because of the sense of satisfaction I received from sharing the product of a new recipe with my friends and family.

For the feast, I made a list of everything I needed—ingredients, utensils, baking pans. I made an extensive menu (too excessive for a family of four), but I was willing to eat reconstructed leftovers for the next week as all families do. Moreover, I made a meticulously planned schedule of when to start each component of the meal to ensure everything would be done at the same time.

During freshman year, I enrolled in Introduction to Journalism. Journalism felt foreign to me because it lacked the typical structure of writing I was used to. Instead of multi-page essays with an introduction, body and conclusion structure, journalistic writing was short, straight-tothe-point and prioritized the most newsworthy information. Eventually, I found my footing in that different style of writing, and Inklings became the center of my high school career as I went from staff writer to web editor to paper editor. I became familiar with the various aspects of journalism: writing, editing, interviewing, photography and Adobe software. Toward the end of my junior year, I received the honor of being a Managing Editor of Inklings for the upcoming school year. I welcomed the role wholeheartedly. Graduation layout approached, where my staff would take on the task of creating a 48-page paper (twice as long as a typical issue) that featured the graduating class— stimulating my love of leading extensive projects. It came to me when I was designing a page featuring student pilots: making a magazine reminded me of cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

Each section—news, opinions, features, arts, sports—was a separate dish. Each article was an ingredient; the photos and graphics were garnish. I felt right at home conducting this challenging project. I guided my sous chefs (editors), giving them advice that I had gained after years of being on the paper. I adapted to hurdles that arose, such as when the centerspread graphic had to be redone the day before publishing.

The graduation issue was a major success thanks to the entire staff and my guidance. Seeing the physical paper and the parents’ and senior students’ reactions, I felt pride in my work, as I had while standing in front of my first roast turkey on Thanksgiving day.

Upon reflection, I realize that Thanksgiving dinner may only come once a year; still, the same mindset that inspired me to cook encourages me daily to take on bigger, meatier challenges than 12-pound turkeys.