Voices and Visions - Spring 2019 by Montclair Kimberley Academy

Voices and Visions

Art and Writing from the Middle School Spring 2019

Voices & Visions Art & Writing from the Middle School

VOICES: Ava Kopelan ‘23 Maya Dishmon ‘23 Katherine Lynch ‘23 Ella Martin ‘23 Erin Freeman ‘23 Alanna Clayton ‘23 Katrina Eilender ‘23 Lindsay Fouché ‘25 Jemma Potenza ‘25 Monica Labib ‘23 Michael Cai ‘23 Stephen Hatfield ‘24 Eli Solomon ‘24 Payam Ekrami ‘24 Frankie Bexon-Reid ‘23 Jack Roselund ‘23 X’Avier Walker ‘25 Claire Bishop ‘25 Maggie Stanford ‘25 Monica Shi ‘25 Alex Bejjani ‘25 Rebecca Herrick ‘23

VISIONS: Caroline Corbett ‘24 Otto Spehar ‘24 Camron Ganchi ‘25 Lindsay Fouché ‘25 Damian Polanskyj ‘27 Grace Barrett ‘27 Myla Robertson ‘27 Katelyn Imbesi ‘27 Maggie Barrett ‘27 Daniel Chung ‘27 Allison Hobbs ‘24 Amara Bhatia ‘24 Bella Kuick ‘24 Leyna Greenberg ‘24 Max Huang ‘24 Orly Sedransk ‘24 Anna Gardiner ‘23 Ella Wheeler ‘23 Katherine Lynch ‘23 Kate McClusky ‘23 Sophia Eichmann ‘23 Alanna Clayton ‘23 Freddy Bishop ‘23 Zhenia Doluda ‘23

Yousef Abukwaik ‘23 Ava Amar ‘23 Maya Dishmon ‘23 Vera Yong ‘23 Mona Marshall ‘23 Nick Baum ‘23 Stephanie Zhang ‘23 Emma Blanco ‘27 India Kleist ‘27 Eva Sluis ‘26 Finn Coolican ‘26 Jaden Lopez Espinosa ‘26 Robyn Meynen ‘26 Ella Somaiya ‘24 Emma Choy ‘24 Katie Chung ‘24 Lila Jung ‘24 Zoe Holmes ‘24 Osias Williams ‘24 Kitty Williams ‘24 Zosi Nwabueze-Pryor ‘26 Kellen Ievers ‘24 Trisha Thakkar ‘23 Anya Singh ‘23

Editors: Katherine Lynch ’23, Maya Dishmon ’23 Faculty Advisor: Marsha Kleinman Layout & Design: Diane Giangreco Visual Arts Teacher and Curator: Joelle Francht 8th Grade, Class of 2023 7th Grade, Class of 2024 6th Grade, Class of 2025 5th Grade, Class of 2026 4th Grade, Class of 2027

Cover art: Caroline Corbett ‘24 (upper left), Otto Spehar ‘24 (lower right)

Note from the Editors:

Voices & Visions is dedicated to sharing the talent and creativity of students at the Middle School. As editors, we loved seeing the incredible pieces that were submitted, and we can only imagine the effort that went into producing them. The students featured in this magazine have put a lot of work into their art and writing, and they all deserve to be recognized for their excellence. We find every single piece in this publication to be amazing, entertaining, thought-provoking, and even humorous, so we hope that you love the Spring 2019 issue of Voices & Visions as much as we do! - Maya Dishmon ’23 & Katherine Lynch ’23

Damian Polanskyj ‘27

Grace Barrett ‘27

Myla Robertson ‘27

Katelyn Imbesi ‘27

Maggie Barrett ‘27

Daniel Chung ‘27

Allison Hobbs ‘24

Amara Bhatia ‘24

Bella Kuick ‘24

Leyna Greenberg ‘24

Max Huang ‘24

Orly Sedransk ‘24

Otto Spehar ‘24

Photo Album

by Claire Bishop ‘25 Happy, Calm, Full of Memories. Looking towards the left, I see nothing but darkness. Looking back and front, I sigh. I still see nothing. But when I look towards the right, I see a fireplace. A strong light grows like a camp fire. Its flames are dancing and leaping. Next to that fireplace is a family. A very happy one. I only come out of the dark at certain times. When it’s a holiday or a family reunion. When I hold so many memories, why am I so rarely looked at?

Pencil by Maggie Stanford ‘25 In the center, Cold graphite, gray Like the majestic mountains to the east Metallic and soft Not beautiful, but functional Crushes at the tip Fed to a demon Of plastic and metal. Wood outer Soft, rough, warm, natural Unpredictable Holds the graphite like a baby A tree Hacked down by the same metal monster. Paint School bus yellow Fading black, HB, What does it mean? Now it’s warm and smooth again, Held by the hand that feeds it to the beast. Metal at the end, Ridges a bean field Holes where nothing will grow Slides on and off, Gashes in the no-longer-yellow wood, Gray like the sky Right before dawn. Purple rubber is the end, Sunken Down Half-melted snow In a cold metal birdbath. Inspired by “Apple,” Nan Fry

Kitty Williams ‘24

The Eraser by Alex Bejjani ‘25

A pink body Rubbing away As you fix your problems With dismay Your deeds visible On a white, flimsy paper That you have made With this pink body Inspired by “The Red Wheelbarrow,” William Carlos Williams

Bedtime Stories by Monica Shi ‘25 A tattered, old book tells us bedtime stories once used so much but now hardly noticed sitting on a shelf blending with surroundings hidden from everything else without trying the cover torn the pages dog-eared yet still singing a beautiful melody Inspired by “The Red Wheelbarrow,” William Carlos Williams

Orly Sedransk ‘24

Anna Gardiner ‘23 Sophia Eichmann ‘23 Yousef Abukwiak ‘23 and Ava Amar ‘23

Katherine Lynch ‘23 Ella Wheeler ‘23 Kate McClusky ‘23 and Maya Dishmon ‘23

Vera Yong ‘23 and Mona Marshall ‘23

Nick Baum ‘23 Alanna Clayton ‘23 Stephanie Zhang ‘23 and Zhenia Doluda ‘23

A Cosmic Catastrophe Stephen Hatfield ‘24

It was a typical day in the city. Cars were honking, families were waiting for their pizzas to be delivered, and my friend and I were walking to Starbucks. Although everything seemed normal, we didn’t know what was in store for us. “I think Brad’s pretty hot,” Dorothy said, “but, he’s kind of dumb.” “Dorothy, you have to understand this: in our school, if he’s athletic and a natural jock, he’s gonna be stupid,” I said, trying to sound empathetic and not judgmental. “Okay, so no Brad for you. What about Charles?” Dorothy asked curiously. “He seems nice.” “Yes, but unless you’re breaking up with Jake and would like to go out with Charles yourself, I don’t know why you’re telling me this!” My voice raised a little bit, so I tried to calm down. “I’m sorry Dorothy, but I’m not looking for someone right now.” “I know you’re still heartbroken over what happened with Liam…” “Even hearing his name makes me cringe.” “But you need to move on, Kayla.” Dorothy most likely didn’t believe me, but I really did care about her opinion. I knew that I needed to move on. I had already spent over a month ‘mourning’ over him. The state of affliction that I was going through should not have continued any longer, but my thoughts were completely eradicated by the sudden appearance of my father. “Hey, isn’t that your dad?” Dorothy asked, pointing to a tall man speaking to the florist on West 92nd Street, “I think he’s buying a bouquet of roses.” “Strange. He never buys flowers, for my mom or for me,” I said curiously, “and, he should be at the station house. Why isn’t he wearing his police uniform?” “He must have taken the day off. Is it your parents’ anniversary?” “I don’t think so, but I’ll find out.” We crossed the street to the florist. “Hey, Dad,” I said in a hesitant voice. “Kayla!” He turned around, shocked to see me. Looking at Dorothy, he said, “And Dorothy. What are you girls doing here?” “Hi, Mr. Johnson!” Dorothy said in the voice that she used whenever she talked to parents. “We were just about to get Starbucks when Dorothy spotted you. What are you doing here?” I questioned. “I was just getting, umm…” my dad hesitated. “Flowers.” “For who? You never just get flowers. Is it your anniversary with Mom?” I asked. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m running late to the station,” he said, while he dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. “But you don’t have your uniform on.” “Kayla, please.” “Why are you getting so defensive?” “I’m not being defensive!” my dad yelled. “I’m just surprised that you’re here. Now, please, will you move?” Dorothy practically pushed me out of the way so that he could walk out of the store, knowing full well that I would have questioned my father all day. We walked through the door, and I took my phone out from my pocket, pulling up the Uber app. “What are you doing?” Dorothy asked me. “I’m getting an Uber.” “Why?” “So that we can follow my dad,” I said with mischief in my voice. She took the phone from out of my hands, closing out of the Uber app. “What was that for?” I asked. “We’re not going to follow your dad,” Dorothy said, sternly. “This isn’t a Jessica Jones episode; we can’t just go around following people. Why are you trying to interrogate him?” “That’s not what I’m trying to do. Please, can you come with me?” I looked at her with my puppy eyes, knowing that it would have to make her agree with me. “Fine,” she sighed, “but we’re getting Starbucks first.” We got our pumpkin spice lattes, and I called the Uber. The driver pulled up on our block about five minutes later, driving a BMW X5. It was a nice car, but it smelled terrible. I tried not to imagine the number of sweaty men that had sat

in the same seat that I sat in then. “How are we going to find your dad anyway?” Dorothy asked. “I’ve got this little app called Find My Friends, and fortunately, he shares his location with me,” I responded. About 20 minutes later, I looked at Find My Friends and found that my father had stopped at a diner. “Excuse me,” I said to the Uber driver, “can you stop at the Cosmic Diner?” “Sure,” he responded. He dropped us off at the Cosmic Diner, and we walked into it through tall, broad, wooden doors. The waitress told us that we could sit at any table in the diner that was open. We sat in the corner of the room, behind a plant. This was far enough so that my dad couldn’t directly see us, but we could see him if we tried. “Are you two ready to order?” The waitress asked, walking over to us. “Yes, I’d like the house burger with cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato, and onion; cooked medium rare, please.” The waiter nodded to me and then asked Dorothy, “And, for you?” “I would like the same thing.” As soon as I saw the burger, I realized how hungry I was. That pumpkin spice latte had not held my appetite over at all. I took a bite into what seemed like the juiciest, tastiest burger that I had ever had in my entire life. I now wish that the pink meat and oozing liquid had distracted my curious eye. I looked over at my father and saw him stand up, greeting a woman. He had the bouquet of roses behind his back, and when he saw the woman, he held out the flowers, implying for her to take them. She took them from out of his hands, gently, and leaned in, close to his face. They kissed. I was caught speechless. I didn’t know what to feel. So many questions were going through my brain, I couldn’t even speak. I felt a lump in my throat and the tears filling my eyes. As Dorothy looked up, she saw my face and then my father. She knew what had happened. She took out her phone, opened the Camera app on her iPhone, and slid it across the table to me. I knew what she meant: there should be pictures, evidence of them kissing, but I don’t want to be the one to take them. With the emotional energy I had left, I held back the tears, picked up the phone, and began to take pictures. Dorothy paid for the food, and I was so lethargic that I could barely say thank you. She called my mother, which was obviously the best thing to do for me. My mom came to pick us up, and we told her everything. “I should have confronted him,” I said, disappointed in myself. “No, you did the right thing by taking pictures,” my mom replied. “It’s better not to make a scene.” “That was Dorothy’s idea,” I said, managing a rueful smile at Dorothy. “That was the right thing to do, Dorothy. Confronting him is my job,” my mom said. When we got back to West 92nd Street, we dropped Dorothy off. “I’m so sorry that you had to be here when we found this out,” I said. “I’m just glad that I could help,” Dorothy said to my mom and me, half-smiling. “Have a good rest of your night, Mrs. Johnson, and I’ll see you tomorrow, Kayla.” When we got home, my mom told me to go to bed. As I was walking up the stairs to my bedroom, I said to her, “I’m not going to be able to fall asleep, but I’ll try.” I knew that my father’s yelling would keep me up. The funny thing is that I did end up falling asleep that night, or at least I thought I did. It seemed that it was a dream when it happened. However, now I realize that I wasn’t dreaming when I heard my mother say the following to my father in a clear, stern voice: “We need to talk.”

Trisha Thakkar ‘23

The Dead End Eli Solomon ‘24

A man dressed in a bland navy suit looks up to the sky. He stands outside of a tall, slim building composed of grey stone and black tinted window panes. As the man looks up, he observes the intense azure of the sky and watches as a cloud looms over the building. The fog was just far enough away from the sun that no pedestrian would get a break from the sweltering heat of that afternoon, because people really needed yet another thing to be annoyed about. It was one of those hot, mucky summer days where curmudgeonly people with desk jobs all happen to be booked for crosstown meetings to absorb as much 95-degree heat as possible. It was one of those days where people subconsciously question the very purpose of their professions. A day where a person may need an iced coffee but the coffee shop is just too far. It was also the day where Brone Azazel would begin his harrowing journey to a horrifying awakening. Brone was a salesman for Iguana Insurance, a failing vendor of retirement plans. They had one unkempt story in a tall, ugly building in Phoenix, Arizona—the building Brone was standing outside of. The building, called Feo Business Complex, was a bleak structure. It was grey and black and surrounded by beautiful, rustic buildings, which made it look all the more ugly. Fortunately, there was a sizeable inflatable iguana outside the building that made it look much less miserable. On the floor which Brone worked, there were about ten unattractive offices and a conference room. He spent his days in a cramped, messy office; he thought of it as a symbol of what his unfulfilling life had become. Brone would come home each day to a small family that consisted of his husband, Huna, and their sixyear-old son, Bikain. Often, Brone was so distracted by his dead-end career that he overlooked the fact that he had a happy, functional family. This hurt his son, who was a precocious child, so Bikain felt as though he couldn’t share his thoughts or feelings with others, even within his own family. His beautiful mind and intellect were truly wasted because of the negligence of one of his fathers. Anyway, Brone stood outside of the building, sweating and pondering why he was still stuck in such a place. Shoulders slumped, he proceeded into the building and pressed the button for the seventh floor. He observed the sluggish people drinking bitter coffee and filling out spreadsheets as he walked to his small box of an office where he would do the same. It was 2:00 in the afternoon and Brone had just come back from a meeting he had with an elderly couple who were “interested” in purchasing a plan from the company. Their house had the distinct old person smell of mildew and aspirin. “How’d it go, Brone?” asked Baegchi, the office manager. Everyone hated Baegchi Kim. She was an idiotic, careless wreck of a human being who seemed to get paid to make everybody miserable. She fired the janitorial staff for no reason, treated everyone poorly, and always made decisions to benefit herself and herself only. “It was fine, Baegchi.” “Huh, well here at Iguana Insurance, we strive for more than fine,” she replied pointedly. Brone rolled his eyes. “Look, Brone, your numbers suck, your attitude is even worse, and you’re getting old. Now prove to me that I need you in this office or I’ll pull the trigger.” He had that speech coming to him for a long time, and he knew it. “Baegchi, if there’s anything I can do, I mean, I really want to keep this job—I need it!” Brone pleaded. “I want to…uh…,” Brone hesitated, “send my son to college! Provide for my family! I’m the only working person in my household, you know.” Baegchi shot him a firm look. “Brone! I don’t want to hear your excuses! Get your attitude together and sell five plans this month, or you’re out!” Brone walked home, disappointed but not upset. After all, it was indeed his fate to either get his act together or leave and find better work. But sometimes, it just felt to him like an endless cycle that he could not break out of. At 6:00 p.m. he left the office to go home to a happy but broken family. Huna stood at the doorstep as he saw Brone’s chubby figure and waved. “Hi Brone!” exclaimed Huna. “Hi, Huna,” said Brone as he walked up the steps. It was a hot and mucky night. Brone gave his

husband a hug, and they both went inside. Brone got home at 7:00 p.m. every night, as it was an hour-long commute from his workplace to his home outside of Phoenix. By that time, Bikain had already eaten and was doing his first-grade homework, but he looked up from his addition problems and smiled at his dad. Brone and Huna walked into the living room of their small saltbox home. “Hey Brone,” Huna said in a serious tone, “I want to talk to you about your job.” Brone rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m serious,” said Huna firmly. “You have to start looking for better jobs. I mean, you’re miserable there!” “I’m fine.” “No, you’re not.” “So what if I’m not!!” “Brone!” Huna yelled. “You need to find a place where you are happy! You have to keep this family afloat! Frankly, your negativity and unhappiness are wearing us down, and we’re having a hard time qualifying for the middle class!” Huna was fuming by now. “I want our son to grow up right. He needs a stable father, and we need to keep our family financially solid. Bikain needs to go to college.” Brone knew Huna was right. “Huna, I’m fifty-five. Is there anything else I can really do?” Huna sighed. “I’m gonna start looking for jobs for you tomorrow, try to set up some interviews. I have a friend who sells insurance for a company called Roubar. They sell car insurance, so it’s right up your alley. Please, just stick it out.” Hopeful and tired, Brone thanked Huna and went upstairs to bed. “Daddy! Can you help me with my homework?” Brone continued trudging upstairs. Bikain was livid; he was regularly ignored by Brone, neglected, but he stayed silent as he watched the father he barely knew leave the room without even an answer. The next day at work, Baegchi walked up to Brone, swung her arm, and said, “All right, I expect to see a new attitude from you today, Azazel!” She punched his arm playfully. It took all Brone had not to roll his eyes. “Yep!” He pointed two wrinkly thumbs towards himself. “Top salesman material right here, Baegchi.” She winked. “Glad to hear it. I expect those numbers to go up!” Brone walked into his box. As he punched in some numbers on a spreadsheet from the last sale he made, the phone rang. The smooth, black phone was installed in the 1990s and was not upgraded since. It was an enormous thing, with two boxed speakers and a long, coiled cord. “Hello, Brone Azazel from Iguana Insurance speaking.” “Hi. I’m Esperanza Lopez from Roubar Car Insurance speaking. Your husband called, Huna Azazel?” “Yes, that is my husband.” “So, you’re Brone, correct?” “Yes. What is this about?” “Well, we’ve been reviewing your numbers. Not so sharp lately, you know, but at your prime, you were great. We’d like to offer you an interview and get you back to your old self.” “Oh, well that’s great news! When?” “Saturday. I understand your son’s play is then, so Huna said you wouldn’t be able to—” “No, I don’t care. Bikain’s school plays are always awful anyway. Saturday at 10?” “You’re on.” Brone walked home that day with a sense of hope and optimism. It was the first time he’d felt like that in a while. Even when his son was born, he didn’t feel such a spirit. Brone had never really been attached to Bikain, since he came out of wedlock to a girl Brone had dated for a few weeks. Brone married Huna while the girl was pregnant. Years of being stuck in the same place had worn down his sense of love. “So, you’re going to the interview, huh?” Huna stood by the door, arms crossed, a look of disappointment strewn across his face. “Well, yeah. It’s the first opportunity in a while.” “And, you do realize your son’s play is that day, right?” “Yes,” Brone said as though it was written right in front of his spouse. “I’m disappointed, you know that? Sometimes it feels like you don’t even care about your own son.” Brone held Huna’s shoulders. “Of course I care, but I need something to look forward to. Ever since I was a kid, I just wanted to make something out of my life, and I really haven’t.” “Your son?! Your beautiful family! Does that count?”

“Well, I mean…” “I’m sorry we’re not glamorous enough for you, Brone. You haven’t been to one baseball game, one play; god, if you didn’t live under the same roof you’d never see him!” “I don’t care! I want to focus on me! Maybe I am a selfish person: deal with it! You’ve managed to put up with it for six years!” Brone was panting from anger. “Yeah,” Huna said. “Well, maybe I’m done!” Brone frowned menacingly. “Maybe. Get the hell out of my house.” He pointed a callused finger to the door. “GET OUT!” While Brone was at the interview, Huna went to Bikain’s play. During the performance, Huna’s friend, Tonto, went outside for a cigarette. When he finished smoking, Tonto carelessly threw the lit cigarette on the wooden bench outside the gym. A spark flashed; soon, it was more than one flash. Sparks blew into the gym, engulfing the entire structure in flames. And in that one flashing moment, Brone would never see his son or his husband again. Those were the last words they ever exchanged. AUTHOR’S NOTE: I gave all my places and characters meaningful and sometimes ironic names. Here they are: Brone (Main Character) – An Irish name that means sorrowful. Huna (Brone’s husband)- A Maori name that means hidden. Bikain (Brone’s son)- A Basque name that means excellent. Azazel (Brone family surname)- Azazel is an Abrahamic demon. Feo (business complex Brone works at)- A Spanish word that means ugly. Roubar (insurance) – A Portuguese word that means to steal. Baegchi Kim (office manager) – Baegchi is a Korean word that means idiot. Tonto (cigarette person)- A Spanish word that means fool.

Anya Singh ‘23

Clockwork by Payam Ekrami ‘24

over.

Finn sat up from his bed. It was 2:00 in the morning. “What have I gotten myself into?” he murmured. “A prison cell, but the real question is what are we getting out of?” a voice squeaked from the next cell

Finn had spent the last few months devising a plan that would get him and a few ‘friends’ out of prison. They needed all four people for the plan to work. Finn pulled out a small device from under his mattress that he had made from forks and gears that he found under his bed. It would make a clicking noise when the others were ready to go. They had to press a button on their own machines so that they could communicate with Finn’s. After a few minutes, they were ready to go. Finn took his toothbrush from next to his sink, which he had modified with a blade on one end instead of a handle. He stabbed into his pillow and cut a small hole. He reached and felt around for a moment. Gone. His notebook was gone, which means that they needed to make a detour to the warden’s office. He checked his watch. 2:15. The guards should be switching positions now, so he had to move fast. He grabbed his ‘toothbrush’ and walked to his cell door. He cocked back his mechanical leg and kicked the iron bars as hard as he could. They warped into an unnatural shape, big enough to climb through if he detached his leg and arm. As soon as he was on the outside, he reattached his enhancements and moved to the next cell. Jimmy was sitting on his bed playing with some dead skin on his thumbs. “I was wondering when you were gonna spring me.” Finn gave a slight smirk and kicked the door down. Jimmy exited his cell and followed Finn down the hall. “We have to make a quick stop at the warden’s office,” said Finn. “Come on, man, we need to stick to the pla-” Finn wrapped his cold fingers around Jimmy’s throat and began to squeeze. As Jimmy moaned and began to turn purple, Finn slowly released him. Finn kept walking to the warden’s office with Jimmy following behind him, clutching his bruised neck. They entered the warden’s office, heading to the area where he keeps all of the items that he confiscates from the inmates. He picked up a small, red notebook and stuffed it into his pocket. Just as they were planning to leave, the warden walked in through the side door of his office. He took a quick look at Finn and sprinted towards the alarm. Finn pulled out his toothbrush and flung it at his leg. It embedded itself right beneath his kneecap and the warden fell to the floor. Finn grabbed the warden and slowly pulled out the toothbrush. He held it to the warden’s neck and began to press down. “Please,” said the trembling warden. Finn made a small cut on his neck and dropped him to the floor. The warden scrambled away into another room. Finn heard an alarm go off and he broke into a run, just as guards burst through the door. Grabbing Jimmy, Finn hurled them both out a window into a parking lot full of motorbikes. He called to Jimmy, but he was unconscious. Finn dragged him to one of the bikes and hopped on, holding Jimmy in front of him. He began to fiddle with the bike, trying to get it to start without a key. Just as he began to drive out of the lot, he turned his head to make sure Jimmy was fastened, but with his mechanical eye, he saw the hammer of a gun snap and then a bullet whiz through the air into Jimmy’s head. He was dead. Finn pushed his lifeless body off of the bike and drove away. He had tried to do something good for once, but as always, it ended with someone dead, and many others remained trapped, despite their plan to escape. He pulled into the driveway of his broken-down childhood home. He had no good memories of this place, but the notebook had said that he needed to be here. He walked up to the faded wood door. Wood? God, this house was as ancient as his first leg. He pulled open the door and tried to enter, but debris from what appeared to be the second floor bathroom blocked his entrance. He shut the door behind him and felt the knob pull free from the wood. He dropped the rusty knob into his backpack and walked around to the garage door. The door was made of low-quality copper that brought back many memories of crashing his first bike prototype and denting the door. He grabbed the handle and pulled up, blowing dust into his mechanical eye. He grabbed a flask from his belt and poured some oil into his eye. He entered the garage, careful where he stepped as the floor was unstable, and he would rather not fall into the basement, which would definitely get dust in places he would not enjoy. He crept to the door and

pushed it open. Hesitantly, he entered his childhood home and saw baby pictures of his brother and himself. He remembered the way his brother Xavier had died; he was crushed under one of the machines Finn had built, and that guilt had stuck with him ever since. As he held Xavier’s dead body in his arms, he vowed that he would put him back together. He had failed to restore his brother from brain death with just his machines, so Finn decided that he would not yield to death. He began to enhance himself with mechanical parts, and then turned to a life of crime as he thought he was invincible. Eventually, he was captured and remained in prison for 15 years until his escape in 2105. He continued through the house, dragging his one human finger on the dusty wall. He came to the stairway. The notebook said that the next clue would be hidden in Xavier’s room. He ventured to his brother’s room, where each of his belongings remained untouched, and Xavier’s casket that his uncle had made by hand lay on his bed. Finn reread the notebook and determined that he had to search inside the casket, which he was reluctant to do. Was he really this desperate? To search in his dead brother’s casket just for some money? Not just some money. The notebook said a fortune. He hated emotions. They were the one thing that he could not change about his body. He placed his hand on the top of the casket and whisked some of the dust away. He pulled open the old box and stared at the remains of his dead brother. Then he heard the creak of the front door open and many voices giving commands. He heard a loud boom followed by the footsteps getting closer. He saw nowhere to take refuge from what he guessed were oncoming cops. He had no choice: he had to hide in the same box as his brother’s dead body. This was immoral. He couldn’t do it. As he tried to fit himself under a table, the cops stormed into the room. “Surrender, 2407,” barked one of the cops. 2407. That was Finn’s cell number. How dare they refer to him as a number! He was more. He kneeled down on the ground with his hands behind his back, but as they moved towards him with heavy-duty cuffs to overpower his strength, he lashed out. He was fighting harder than he ever had before. Bodies dropped next to him; he heard the snap as his iron fist shattered ribs. As he moved out of the room, he heard the click of a gun. BOOM. Finn’s head jerked back, as well as his body. His metal parts detached from his lifeless body. Another click. His body was launched back into the coffin of his brother. The cop stood there as he watched the old casket fill to the brim with blood and oil. There was a certain serenity to watching it. The oil moved around in the blood, refusing to mix. The cop had seen it all. He lifted the gun to Finn’s head one more time. Click. Boom.

Mona Marshall ‘23

Two Sides to My Story Where do I come from? Where does my family come from? Two different sets of Stories, Each one unique and interesting. On my dad’s side, Tales of Hope and Freedom songs. They were slaves all day working on Someone else’s Land, for no pay. On my mom’s side, Tales of Great-great-great Grandparents living on Native American reservations, living with Brothers and sisters, Aunts and uncles Grandparents and friends.

by X’Avier Walker ‘25 But, just because the Stories they told were about those things, doesn’t mean that they didn’t come from other Places, too.

My father’s side has many different places of origin. He often talks about the Caribbean, playing in waterfalls while visiting family. One thing he didn’t miss, though, were the Police officers carrying Assault rifles.

Lindsay Fouché ‘25

My mother’s side, too has many different Places of origin. She talks about dancing in her Flamenco dress and sitting down for hours at a meal in Spain. She also loves the mix of Ancient and modern Buildings and Traditions. In the end, the thing that all these Places and People and Stories share, is having a special Place in my heart.

La citrouille blanche par Ava Kopelan ‘23

Il y a une citrouille qui s’appelle Orange Tige. Cette citrouille n’est pas une citrouille ordinaire parce qu’elle peut parler. Sa ville est aussi spéciale parce que tout le monde qui habite là est une citrouille et peut parler. Quand Orange a grandi, les petites citrouilles ont été méchantes avec elle. Les autres ont rigolé parce que, bien qu’elle s’appelle Orange, elle est blanche et elle est très grande et timide. Parce qu’elle est optimiste, Orange a décidé d’ignorer les autres citrouilles quand elles ont été méchantes. Puisqu’elle est très grande, ses parents ont peur qu’elle finisse dans une tarte à la citrouille parce que les humains choisissent toujours les grandes citrouilles pour la tarte à la citrouille. Mais elle, elle pense que les humains vont la manger parce qu’elle n’a jamais peur. Un jour quand Orange a été à l’école, elle est allée au bureau du directeur. Le directeur a dit qu’elle a été choisie pour la tarte à la citrouille de cette Action de Grâce. Orange a été terrifiée et a couru en dehors de l’école et jusqu’à sa maison. En général, Tige Orange n’a jamais peur, mais elle a eu très peur à ce moment-là. Quand elle est arrivée à sa maison, elle a crié « LES HUMAINS VONT ME MANGER ! LES HUMAINS VONT ME MANGER ! » Sa mère lui dit : « Non, ils ne vont pas te manger parce que je ne vais pas permettre qu’ils te mangent. » Soudain, elles ont entendu un coup à la porte. Elles ont ouvert la porte et il y a eu deux humains à l’extérieur. L’un des humains lui a dit : « Madame Tige, nous allons prendre Orange. Elle a été choisie pour la tarte à la citrouille de cette Action de Grâce. » Sa mère leur a dit : « Je suis désolée, mais vous ne pouvez pas prendre ma fille. Est-ce que vous pouvez prendre les petites citrouilles qui ont été méchantes à la place ? » Les humains sont d’accord de prendre les petites citrouilles qui ont été méchantes. Ensuite, ils vécurent heureux sauf, bien sûr, les petites citrouilles que les humains ont mangées. Emma Blanco ‘27

La citrouille homosexuelle par Maya Dishmon ‘23

Un jour froid d’octobre, il y a eu une citrouille. La citrouille a été bleue, une couleur rare pour une citrouille, mais pourtant c’est vrai. La citrouille a été une fille, pas un garçon, mais elle a voulu aimer une autre fille. Elle a été homosexuelle, mais ses parents qui ont été très stricts n’ont pas aimé les citrouilles homosexuelles. Oh non ! Qu’est-ce qu’elle a pu

faire? Elle n’a pas voulu parler à ses parents de son homosexualité, mais il n’y a pas eu autre chose qu’elle a pu faire. La semaine suivante, elle a décidé qu’elle allait dire la vérité à sa famille. Elle allait révéler son homosexualité. Elle a été nerveuse. Elle a été voir ses parents et elle a dit : « Je suis homosexuelle. Je veux que vous m’acceptiez. C’est qui je suis. » Ses parents ont répondu : « Non ! Tu ne peux pas être homosexuelle. C’est terrible ! C’est horrible ! C’est mal ! » La citrouille et ses parents ont parlé longtemps. Les parents n’ont pas accepté leur enfant. La citrouille a été triste. Elle est partie de chez elle. Elle a habité avec un ami qui a aimé et accepté les citrouilles homosexuelles. Un beau jour, pas froid (beaucoup de mois après qu’elle est partie), le portable de la citrouille a sonné et la citrouille a répondu : « Allô ! Qui est-ce ? » « Ce sont tes parents ! Nous voulons te dire que nous sommes désolés. Nous t’aimons et nous voulons que tu reviennes chez nous. Vraiment, nous sommes très désolés. Nous n’avons pas dû dire « C’est terrible et c’est mal ! Ce n’est pas juste. Maintenant, nous comprenons. » La citrouille a été très contente et elle a pleuré, mais seulement un peu. Elle a dit à ses parents : « Je vous adore ! Je retourne chez moi. » Katelyn Imbesi ‘27

La citrouille humaine par Katherine Lynch ‘23 Il était une fois une citrouille dans un petit parc. La citrouille est blanche et (un peu) orange, avec des fleurs roses et bleu clair. À côté du parc, il y a la maison d’une sorcière. Un jour, la sorcière est en train de marche dans le parc quand elle voit la citrouille. La sorcière réfléchit et ensuite elle fait une robe. Après, elle met la robe sur la branche d’un arbre avec des feuilles rouges. Quand la citrouille arrive, la sorcière la transforme et la citrouille devient une personne ! La sorcière court à sa maison, alors la citrouille est toute seule. La citrouille met la robe, qui est longue, ronde et blanche avec des fleurs roses et bleu clair. La citrouille regarde sa robe et voit ses cheveux. Elle a des cheveux roux, bouclés et courts. La citrouille est impressionnée. Devant elle, il y a un grand monde qu’elle n’a pas vu jusqu’à maintenant ! Ensuite, une personne qui se promène au parc rencontre la citrouille. Cette nouvelle personne dit : « Oh ! Bonjour ! » La citrouille ne répond pas parce qu’elle est trop surprise. La

personne lui demande : « Comment vous appelez-vous ? » « Je suis… » La citrouille cherche une inspiration. Dans le parc, il y a des feuilles sur le sol, des arbres, des arbustes et des fleurs. « Je suis Fleur. » La personne répond : « Fleur ? C’est un joli prénom ! Et moi, je m’appelle Lou. Ta robe est très sophistiquée. Où est-ce que tu vas ? » « Je ne vais nulle part. » dit Fleur. « Oh, d’accord… Qu’est-ce que tu vas faire maintenant ? » demande Lou. Fleur répond : « Euh… Je ne vais rien faire. » « Est-ce que tu voudrais faire une promenade avec moi ? » Lou lui demande. Fleur répond : « Oui, j’aimerais ça. Peux-tu tout m’expliquer ? Je suis… désorientée. » Lou répond : « Bien sûr ! Mais es-tu amnésique ? » « Dans un sens… » « D’accord. Nous pouvons aller à la plage, il y a beaucoup de choses là-bas !» Lou dit. Fleur répond : « D’accord ! » Les deux marchent sur le sentier et Lou décrit le parc à Fleur. Fleur ne sait pas pourquoi les arbres ne sont pas verts, la sorcière n’a pas donné cette information à Fleur. La sorcière a donné à Fleur une idée spécifique sur le monde, donc Fleur ne comprend pas l’automne. Lou dit : « En automne, les feuilles sur les arbres deviennent rouges, orange et jaunes. Puis les feuilles tombent sur la terre. Il y a déjà des feuilles sur la terre, peux-tu voir ?» Fleur répond : « Oui. Les feuilles sont très belles et colorées. » « J’adore l’automne à cause de ça ! » Les arbres dans le parc sont hauts parce qu’ils sont très, très vieux et le parc est dans une vieille ville. Fleur a de la peine avec sa robe, parce qu’elle est trop longue et Fleur n’a jamais marché jusqu’à maintenant. Lou a besoin d’aider Fleur et Lou trouve ça très drôle puisqu’elle, elle a marché toute sa vie. Pendant la promenade, Lou continue à expliquer les choses à Fleur. Quand elles arrivent à la plage, Fleur lui demande : « Quel est ce sol ? Je ne le connais pas. » Lou dit : « Le sol est du sable, la terre à côté de la mer. Les enfants aiment construire des châteaux avec le sable et parfois tu peux voir des sculptures !» Fleur regarde l’espace et elle est calme parce que le bruit de l’eau est très apaisant. Lou décrit la communauté de la ville, comment la communauté a l’air d’une famille. Fleur repère une tortue dans le sable, sur son dos. Elle essaie de courir vers la tortue, mais elle ne peut pas à cause de sa robe. Lou aide la tortue, qui est verte et très petite et Fleur remercie Lou pour l’aide. « Désolée, ma robe est problématique. Elle est trop longue. » Fleur dit. Lou rit : « Ça va. » Elles continuent à marcher, et Fleur réfléchit si ce monde n’a pas trop d’informations pour elle. « Lou ? » Fleur demande. Lou répond : « Oui ? » « Est-ce que je peux apprendre toutes ces informations ce soir ? » Lou rit et répond : « Ah, non, il y a beaucoup trop d’informations. Petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. » Fleur regarde Lou avec confusion. « Quoi ? » « Ah, tu ne connais pas les expressions, j’ai oublié. La phrase signifie que tu dois avoir de la patience pour avoir un bon résultat. » « Ah, d’accord. » Les deux restent à la plage et parlent plus pendant la nuit. Alors Fleur apprend beaucoup de choses sur le monde. Tout est bien qui finit bien. India Kleist ‘27

E ll a S o m a iy a ‘ 2 4

L il a Jun g ‘ 2 4

K ati e C h u n g ‘ 2 4

K e l l e n Ie v e r s ‘ 2 4

Cyclops Perspective Piece Frankie Bexon-Reid ‘23 It was a wonderful morning. I was taking my sheep for their twice daily walkies; they were frolicking around and doing sheep things. When we had ambled our way to the other side of the island, we began our return to my cave. The round trip took us about three hours, and we were all out of breath and needing to be milked when we got home (I didn’t need milking, only the sheep). I’m about to tell you what took place on that fateful day, but first, a bit of background. I graduated high school five years ago, and had my eye set on becoming an accountant, but two factors held me back straight out of high school: 1) I’m a Cyclops, and 2), People tell me I’m dense. So, with dreams of being a powerful financial advisor dashed to pieces, I told my dad to do something. He had a good yell at the people at the university, but even then, they held out. Eventually, he gave up and bought me this little island in the Mediterranean. Anyway, back to the story: I had failed to notice the Greek warship rested on the beach on my way back, so I entered my cozy cave and started milking my sheep. I’d managed to milk my way through seven of my jumbo sheep before I noticed that two of my homemade feta had gone missing. I looked around, and by the firelight, I managed to spot the offenders—a band of thieving humans! After exchanging my version of pleasantries and listening to their whining, I decided to get on with my feast, starting with a cheeky pairing of man brains and whey. After that amusebouche, I think I just demonstrated my great intellect and therefore eligibility for university. How? Well, I strategized: If I leave some more men, there will be plenty for my breakfast! Robyn Meynen ‘26 Absolute genius. The bright rays of sun cascading over my little island paradise and warming the walls of my dwelling (how I wish I had at least one window) signified morning, which meant breakfast! I grabbed myself a hearty serving of protein and dairy and swallowed them all down at once, as you might do to a petite, bite-sized pastry. Speaking of imported luxuries, the next thing I knew, those unwelcome guests were presenting me with a complimentary bottle of expensive-looking cognac, a good Hennessey, I hoped. I took haste in swigging this gift. I must confess, I don’t get much booze in my little corner of the world, so just a couple of beers and I’m out like a light. This, however, was different. A whole liter had gone down my throat, and before I could protest that this was not the Paradis Impérial cognac that I had expected but just a cheap whiskey masquerading behind a well-known label, I was too intoxicated to remember my own name (it’s Polyphemus). Absolute skullduggery. Anyway, the liquor was strong enough to get me snoring like a trucker with severe sleep apnea. With me snoozing away, the lead human took advantage of me, leaping on top of me to gouge out my singular and beautiful, hazel-brown eye. This certainly woke me with a fright. I was having a pleasant dream at the time (the one where I’m a sea captain aboard a ship that looks like an octopus), but the searing hot pain of a wooden stake tickling the rear of my eye socket gave me, to say the least, a jump. This man, Nobody, as I was led to believe, was incredibly cunning, at least by my standards. Not noticing the obvious and extreme irony at the time, I called out to my fellow Cyclopes in desperation, telling them that “Nobody” had blinded me. They must have thought that I was doing fine, because I received no help. I was comforted by reminding myself of two facts: 1) Daddy will pay the hospital bill for my eye, and 2), Nobody (whose name I later discovered was Odysseus) would pay dearly for his actions. And then, poof! They disappeared into thin air! I herded my sheep out, feeling my way along the walls to the opening, heaving aside the boulder I use as a door. Hearing my lovely companions exit the cave, perhaps at a more leisurely rate than usual, I thought of their coats’ dark hue, and the nursery rhyme that I sang myself to sleep with every night: “Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full! One for the master,

And one for the dame, One for the little boy Who lives down the lane Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, Three bags full..”. When I awoke from this heavenly daze, I realized that the men who had blinded me were on their ship, making their getaway. I stumbled to a clifftop overlooking the picturesque bay, and fumbled for boulders to lob in their general direction. Then it hit me: I shouldn’t seek work in the financial sector, but as a living, thinking trebuchet for hire instead! All my woes faded as a smile crept across my face. I imagined the look on my dad’s face when he learned that I had found employment! By the time I had returned to my senses, the captives were almost liberated from my island! They were at the mouth of the bay, their leader’s annoyingly high and squeaky voice taunting me: “…if ever mortal man inquire how you were put to shame and blinded, tell him Odysseus, raider of cities, took your eye: Laertes’ son, whose home’s on Ithaka!” Hmm… Odysseus! That’s his name, isn’t it? I’ll tell Daddy, and he will never reach his family again! He thought I was stupid, and he was wrong. He may have made it out of the bay, but he shall soon face the consequences of maiming Poseidon’s son!

Polyphemus Perspective Piece Katrina Eilender ‘23 I was awakened that morning as I am every morning; not by the few harsh beams of light slicing through the musty darkness of my cave, but by the low rumbling of my stomach. I stumbled out of bed and over towards my sheep and goats, already noisily impatient to be let outside. My breakfast of whey and cheese barely took the edge off my hunger; not a surprise. Only meat could do that, something I hadn’t had in months. I heaved aside the hefty boulder blocking the entrance and opened up the pens one at a time as my eye adjusted to the morning light. My animals rushed outside into the hills, eager to explore and eat, to expel their boundless energy. I followed them, hoping the day would bring a distraction, some deviation from the routine, no matter how insignificant, that might divert my focus from the merciless ache of hunger. However bad it got, though, I would never eat my animals. I had raised them all from birth and had grown to care for them greatly. I could never hurt such innocent, sensitive creatures, creatures so close to my heart. Consequently, I had not tasted meat since my last hunt. Milk, whey, and cheese could not sate me; a Cyclops must have meat. This was the longest I had gone without it in my life. Every day I felt a little more of my strength ebb away, every day it got harder to move the boulder, to climb the hills, even to get up in the morning. I knew that if I did not eat flesh soon, I would perish, and yet the thought of killing one of my animals was even more repulsive than the thought of starvation. I shoved such ugly notions out of my head and lost myself in the untamed beauty of my island, so unlike others with their perfect rows of crops and boisterous, clamoring cities. Mine was still unmarred, just as it was on the day the gods created it. When the sun began to set, I led my herd back to the cave for milking. I built up the fire to banish the sharp chill of night that had begun to creep into my cave, and the dancing flames suddenly revealed the miniature faces of humans, crammed in a dim corner, whispering to each other. I could not believe my good fortune. Fate had given me a gift, and I could not waste it. I must not scare them off. I spoke to them slowly, soothingly, asking who they were and where they came from. I only became harsh when they spoke so reverently of the gods: this I could not tolerate! The gods are as flawed and limited as we are, and it irks me that humans have a habit of blaming their fate, good or bad, on the gods instead of on their own character. The conversation eventually turned light and amicable once again, but time passing was unendurable, I could not take it anymore! I almost drooled with anticipation, already imagining the savory, delicious flavor of human. I grabbed two of them, eating them slowly so as to enjoy every moment. The delicate snap of bone, the salty taste of blood, the juicy, plump innards and the tough, chewy muscle, all washed down with clear, sweet whey. I could already feel my energy returning after so long, and I knew that the boulder would feel light as a feather tomorrow. With this satisfying thought, I fell asleep to the sound of human voices chattering, a sound that went well with a full stomach. The next night I rushed through my chores, anxious for my meal. Once again, I ate only two. Though I wanted to devour them all, I had to conserve. Who knew when I would have this luck again? As soon as I swallowed the last bit of flesh, one of them boldly stepped forward, clearly a leader. He offered me a bowl full of a dark wine that looked tempting. He must be trying to barter for his own life, I thought. A smart one. I almost let him go, but at the last minute decided it would wasteful and irresponsible. The best I could do was save him for last. I downed the wine in a few sips; it was the best I’d ever had. I guzzled more, dismissing twinges of doubt about getting drunk while the crafty little vermin were around. This was a once-in-a-lifetime meal, and I should enjoy it while it lasted, I reasoned. Curious about the leader,

I asked him his name and then announced his reward for the wine: that he would be eaten last. Typical of humans he seemed rather ungrateful, but then again, I don’t remember all that much of the moments leading up to the horrifying deed that was about to occur. The first thing was the pain that came with agonizing force, more torturous and deeply felt than any wound I’d ever experienced. Next was the blindness, a heavy and obliterating gloom that rendered my beloved cave a hellish, unfamiliar and dangerous place. I stumbled and fell as I groped for the spike to pull it from my ruined eye. I bellowed a call for help, a signal that we Cyclops have to alert the rest of us that something is wrong. My voice carried far, echoing off the walls of my cave. At least I would have my revenge, I thought. At least now my people would hear me and come to punish the villainous scoundrels who did this. Grudgingly they came, creeping out from their caves. They did not like to be disturbed but knew they could not refuse a call for help from one of their own kind. They gathered outside my cave, deep rumbling voices forming a storm of questions. I answered them rapidly, my voice twisted with pain, telling them the name of the leader. And then, instead of helping or avenging me, they walked away, grumbling that it was my father Poseidon’s duty, not their own. I was filled with rage. I needed revenge, and if those lazy, disloyal idiots wouldn’t help, I would do it myself. First, however, I needed to head off any plans of escape. I lowered myself down in the doorway of my cave, blocking the entrance and casting a shadow across the fearful faces of the humans. I stayed there all night, relinquishing sleep to guard the doorway. Finally, the first rays of dawn stretched across the sky, and I moved wearily from to my post to release the herd. The sheep clamored impatiently as always, and I didn’t know anything was amiss until I heard the shouts coming from the bay. I rushed toward it, the words becoming clear as I got closer; it was the leader, the clever one who had now tricked me twice. He was spouting boastful nonsense with great zeal, taunting me by crowing his name, his father’s and his home. This was the last straw: I may be bested by this arrogant human, but not humiliated. Fury overwhelmed me, it was all I could feel and all I could think. I hurled craggy rocks from the beach into their puny, fragile boats and relished the pure crack of broken wood. They would not escape now, they would not leave this island. Yet somehow the leader eluded my barrage, and my rage turned to humiliation as it became clear that he would, in fact, live on! I had no choice but to admit it was out of my hands. I murmured a prayer, rapid and desperate, to my father. Just the sound of Poseidon’s name sent a heavy, anchored calm through me. I knew, without thinking, that my revenge would be carried out. As the boats disappeared from the horizon, the last of my rage dissipated like the now-feeble ripples from my rocks, and I was left peaceful as the smooth, empty bay.

Jaden Lopez Espinosa ‘26

Polyphemus Perspective Piece Maya Dishmon ‘23 “Belinda sweetie, come here!” I called out to my favorite sheep. As she trotted over to me, her hooves made a soft, muted noise against the grassy hill. When she reached my feet, I ruffled her wool, for it was the softest of my entire flock. One day, she would make a fine meal, and a fantastic cloak, too. It’s the circle of life, get over it. Once the last of the sheep had entered the cave, I sat down to milk the females. I dealt with a couple of other quick chores; it didn’t take me a long time. I turned and noticed the fire starting to go out. How I hated to be cold. I began to stoke it, and in the reborn firelight, I saw something poking out from behind Belinda. Seeing as she had never had a human forehead protruding from her back, I took a hesitant step over to check it out. I discovered an entire human, just shaking in fear. Along with him were eight others, one taller than the rest. Strangely enough, this one seemed not to be afraid of me, he did not shiver meekly like the others. He stood with an air of confidence and pride. It pissed me off. It was probably an act, I’m quite frightening. Even then, how dare he not quake at the mere sight of me, how dare he not tremble at my very presence? I bent down so that my face was hardly an inch from his, breathing down his neck, trying to evoke some kind of reaction, but I got nothing. This imbecile, Eva Sluis ‘26 filled to the brim with hubris, he didn’t even flinch. Worst of all, he was letting the other men eat Belinda’s cheese! “Who are you, and what are you doing with my food?” The men froze, cheese falling from their hands and onto the dirty floor. What a waste. The tall one spoke with confidence, “We are eating it, for starters, as any guest from Zeus is obviously permitted to do. We are exhausted from our journey, and we need a place to rest.” “And?” This nutcase didn’t seriously expect me to oblige him and his men. “Have you not heard of hospitality? The gods expect us to treat one another with kindness as host to guest.” At this, I gave a deep, throaty laugh, the sound amplifying itself in the hollow interior of my home cave. The reaction I got was splendid: eyes filled with intense concern, the first sign of fear from the tall one. The men looked at me with both fright and confusion. “Wait, you’re not serious, are you? Do you actually think that such a ,glorious brute as I would be a god-fearing beast? I am a Cyclops. We abide by no rules, not our own, not yours, and not those of the gods. I mean, have you looked at me yet? I could take all 14 Olympians down with one blow. Anyways, where did you dock your ship? I must destroy it. I can’t have the most delicious thing I’ve seen in years escape my grasp.” “You won’t need to worry about that, our ship was destroyed, crushed against the rocks,” replied the tall one. “Well, that’s too bad.” If they were seeking pity, they weren’t going to get it from me. Since these men couldn’t take a hint, I thought I’d try being a bit more direct. I scooped up two of them, as small as sausages in comparison to my enormous hands, and did what any child with a bunny-shaped piece of chocolate would do on Easter. I bit the head off first. Man flesh is surprisingly subpar. I’ve never really eaten it before, it’s just an entertaining way to strike

fear into weak human hearts. I was expecting a tender, melt-in-your-mouth type situation, but the muscles were so stringy and tough, it was like shoe leather. It was, however, a very filling meal. With my stomach satisfied and my chores finished, I fell into a deep slumber. Like a child, full of life, who has played all day, bouncing off the ceilings, but at last, his mother has to put him to sleep, for his sake and hers. He goes with protest, claiming to be full of energy, but as soon as his head touches the pillow, the heaviness of exhaustion presses him deeper and deeper into sleep. His racing head is left only with the sweet peace of soothing dreams, colored with joy that stays with him through many days to come. The next day I awoke and began my day with some of Belinda’s delectable cheese for breakfast as well as another pair of men. Human screams are so funny, they make the strangest noises. After I finished eating, I went outside to milk my ewes. Going through my daily chores I made some small talk with the men, taking loads of joy from the fact that they all seemed afraid of me now, even the tall one. After a brief nap, I went on about my business. I ate two more men, just to make sure that the stream of fear running in my favor did not stop flowing. I finished the evening chores and returned to my cave to have some final moments of peace before sleep. When I sat down, I was presented with an ornate bowl filled with wine. It seemed these mortals were trying to suck up to me, but I wouldn’t fall for it. I would never let them have what they Finn Coolican ‘26 want, but I’d accept the gifts anyway, just for fun. I drank from that bowl the finest wine I’d ever tasted. It was a sweet liquid, and yet it struck my mouth with vigor. It felt as though my mouth had learned how to taste again, my tongue shocked with the newness and excitement of it all. I realized that this is what it meant to live, to feel happiness, and it hit me that I’d never felt this way before. My emotions were electrified by this wine! I started to sob as I spoke to the mortals. I told them about my incredible moment of enlightenment, which I would come to realize was just intoxication. Words were flowing like wine; I just couldn’t stop. “You know, guys, I don’t even know your names and I just love you guys so much. You don’t understand, you guys, you’re just so pretty, and you listen, you know? You’ve been there for me for the entirety of the one and a half days that we’ve been together, and I am so, so thankful. I should really learn your names, especially you, you tall one over there. Sure, you tried to tell me what the gods expected of me, but you learned your lesson, and everyone makes mistakes, right guys?” What I didn’t yet know was that I was making a mistake right in that moment, lost in my own silly, strangled laughter. “You don’t understand how I feel about you. I just love you so much. I can’t believe I’m so lucky that I get to eat you. And you know what? I’m going to eat you, and I’m going to eat you right! What does that even mean? Get me another bowl of wine!” I must have gone on like that for a few hours, for the night had gone silent by the time I was done. After my third bowl of that lovely drink, I said to the tall one, “So, what is your name actually? I’ll give you a gift if you tell me!” I giggled, and it was such a funny noise that I just couldn’t stop. When I quieted down, the tall one answered me. “How could I have forgotten? Where are my manners? I apologize, Cyclops. This is the name that my

mother bestowed upon me. I am called Nobody. Now remember the gift that you promised.” “I’ll eat you last! How’s that for a gift, am I right Nobody?” I laughed even louder, so much so that it hurt my own ears, but I hardly noticed. I must’ve laughed myself right to sleep, for the next thing I remember was the sharp pain in my head. “Holy Zeus, this hangover,” I complained, as I tried to open my eye, but it wouldn’t open. I could see nothing but black, the pain increasing at an excruciating rate, and then I heard shouts. Becoming aware of the warm blood running down my face, I screamed in agony. “Nobody! NOBODY! Where are you?” I cried out, swinging my hands through my cave, looking for the mortals, but all I found were the rock walls. I rushed outside, shoving the boulder that served as my door out of the way. I tried to find words for my anguish but the only sound I could make was pain: a primal shriek, like that of a wounded animal, suffering from the missed shot of a hunter who didn’t quite manage to kill. It endures the horror of its injury, with no choice but to go on, no matter how much it hurts. The empty ache that was once sharp is somehow worse, and the hollow pain refuses to subside. For a few moments, all that it is possible to feel is woe, depression, and more pain. The creature cries out, looking for any being that serves as friend and not foe, praying that it is not alone in this wretched world. Thankfully, I was not, or so I thought. “Polyphemus, what is wrong? Who has hurt you?” called the other Cyclops from their homes. I could not have been more grateful for my brethren then, but my gratitude would not last. “Nobody! Nobody has blinded me, tricked me, stolen my eye! What shall I do? How do I stop Nobody?” “Polyphemus, this is ridiculous. If nobody has caused you pain, if this is not some strange practical joke, then the gods brought this upon you. And who are we to interfere with fate? We shan’t help you, Polyphemus, you must face this alone.” And with that, I heard no more cries of support; my last hope was gone. I yelled out one last time, in a show of pure desperation, but there was no answer. Without bothering with my daily chores, I went right back to sleep, blinded both literally and figuratively by pain. The next morning, I released my sheep into the meadow surrounding my cave. I felt their backs to make sure that no men escaped. But the next thing I heard, the ship that those men must have lied about was sailing away; I heard the triumphant yells. Worse yet, they were leaving with several of my sheep. I instantly recognized my Belinda’s bleats, getting more and more remote. “Nobody! How dare you take Belinda, and after all you’ve done to me? Bring her back, now!” “What? Belinda? Who-” I cut him off by throwing a rock at his head. Given that I was blinded, I missed. I know this because he responded to me. “Polyphemus! You will never strike me down, for you have been foiled by your own arrogance. How dare you underestimate me? When your brothers ask you who blinded you, tell them it was Odysseus, raider of cities, the Akhaian warrior, the sacker of Troy! Remember that, Polyphemus. Remember me!” And I did, and I cursed him. I cursed that man, Odysseus, “raider of cities,” I cursed him all the way to Tartarus. And I never saw him again, but I hope to this day that he rots.

KyklopIês Perspective Piece Rebecca Herrick ‘23 I looked on with my single eye as I herded my sheep into the cave. They bleated and shoved each other out of the way, all trying to enter the broad doorway at once. The day was coming to an end. The blue sky turned purple, as if an artist were furiously splashing colors across the horizon. He dipped his paintbrush into a deep black and streaked it atop the mountains. He gradually brought it down over all colors to signify that it was time for animals and birds to go to sleep. Then, he scattered shining stars over the night sky, gleaming and twinkling. I turned into my cave, and got ready to eat the blocks of cheese I had prepared the previous day. Days for me were laborious, so each evening, when I rounded up my sheep, felt most peaceful. Except for tonight. After I rolled the big stone slab over my doorway, I spun around to see a group of about thirteen men feasting on my stores of cheese and wine! The very same cheese that I had intended to eat! I was horrified. I’d heard of the custom in far-off lands where there would be great consequences if guests weren’t treated well, but these men seemed to take it too far. I asked them who they were and where they were from, and they told me they were Akhaians making their way home from Troy. They said that they had been blown off course to our island. They were trying to make me pity them! One of them even had the nerve to say that I must honor them, as they are strangers, or Zeus would punish me. I don’t give a flying hoot about the gods, especially not Zeus! We Kyklopês are smarter, stronger, and better than they are. We could easily best any one of them in a foot race or wrestling match. Those foolish mortals, thinking that they should worship the gods, when they should really worship us! Because of the

gods’ silly rules, mortals think they can trust anyone as long as they are seeking hospitality. They tell everyone they meet their whole story just to get shelter for one night. With that knowledge in the back of my mind, I asked them to tell me where their ship was, so that I might raid it later and at least get something out of this meeting. When I asked, the one who seemed to be the leader told me that their ship had been destroyed by rocks when they came to the shore. I was starting to get angry. First, they come into my house uninvited, then they eat all my cheese, and now they’re telling me that I can’t take anything from their ship? I was so hungry...I hadn’t eaten all day. Without thinking, I reached down and grabbed two of the tiny men, smashed their heads and bodies on the boulders in my cave, and gobbled them up. Their companions looked on in horror, and I took pleasure in seeing the fear in their eyes. Feeling satisfied with my meal, I got into bed and fell asleep as soon as I shut my eyes. The next day, I woke up and tended to my flock as usual. For breakfast, of course, I ate two more men. When I returned to the cave in the evening, I ate another pair. I couldn’t stop myself; they just tasted so delicious! Perhaps the small crew of mortals was finally understanding how powerful I was, and how they should treat me, because the leader offered me a bowl of wine. It was a deep, rich, red wine, and I downed it in one gulp. It tasted heavenly. Feeling the pleasure of the wine, I asked the leader for his name and he told me he was called Nohbdy. In retrospect, that does seem like a rather unusual name, but I was so overcome by the delicious wine that I just ignored it. Nohbdy brought me three more bowls of wine, and I started to feel its effects setting in. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to pull the blankets over myself and sleep. And I did. Sweet slumber came to me quickly. I could hear the hushed whispers of the mortals as I fell asleep, but it was the least of my worries. In the middle of the night, however, I awoke with a searing pain in my eye. The mortals had stabbed my eye, blinding me! I fumbled around and cried out to the other KyklopIês outside. They asked me what was wrong and I wailed, “Nohbdy, Nohbdy’s tricked me, Nohbdy’s ruined me!” And those lazy brutes, they didn’t come to help me! I couldn’t figure out why none of them came to my aid! As I writhed in pain, I heard Nohbdy laughing. I stumbled over to the door, moved the stone slab, and waited for the men to try to escape. All I felt under my fingertips while I was guarding the opening was the soft wool of my sheep. My fury rose and I roared up to the sky. The mortals took flight on their ship soon after, but not before I learned Nohbdy’s real name. I found out that he was called Odysseus, Laërtês’ son, and that he lived on Ithaka. He was a fool to tell me so much. I reached out and asked my father, Poseidon, to see that Odysseus and his men never got home. And if they did, I wanted them to encounter many perils and hardships along the way. They would soon regret the day they blinded a KyklopIês like me.

Zosi Nwabueze-Pryor ‘26

C a m ro n

G an ch i ‘ 2 5

L i n d s ay

F ou c h é ‘ 2 5

Osias Williams â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;24

Katie Chung â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;24

Ella Somaiya â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;24

Lila Jung ‘24

Zoe Holmes ‘24

Allison Hobbs ‘24

Otto Spehar ‘24

Emma Choy â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;24

The following feature articles are written by members of the 8th Grade, Class of 2023, as part of the English curriculum.

JACK ROSELUND

JANUARY 17, 2019

Screens and Sleep Teens + Electronics + Sleep? Studies show this is a recipe for disaster

Screens have a big impact on getting a good night’s sleep

The allure for teens to use screens after generally exhibit poor sleep patterns and homework and other required evening activities subsequently perform worse in school and other is powerful. Interacting with friends, playing a daily activities. game, and other screen-based activities create a feeling of pleasure and a rush Why is sleep important? of adrenaline to the user. However, these kinds of Sleep is a vital brain-stimulating activities component of good right before bed have a health and well-being significant impact on getting throughout your life. a good night’s sleep. In a Conversely, many teens survey of sleep habits of neglect to value sleep eighth-grade students at and rest, instead opting Montclair Kimberley https://homeword.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/boytabletbed.jpg to stay up much later Academy, a Pre-K to 12 doing other activities, independent school in which can New Jersey, only stunt physical 10% of the 50 and mental Reported Hours students polled growth. The of Sleep per night responded that way you feel they achieved the while you're recommended awake 9-10 hours of depends in sleep for teens part on what (see left). Yet, happens while multiple https://med.stanford.edu/news/all-news/2015/10/among-teens-sleep-deprivation-anyou're sleeping. epidemic/_jcr_content/main/image_0.img.620.high.jpg 7-8 Hours of Sleep studies have During sleep, 4-6 Hours of Sleep shown that your body is 9-10 Hours of Sleep teens need more sleep to 1-3 Hours of Sleep working to support healthy brain function and fuel the exponential maintain physical health. In children and teens, amount of physical and sleep also helps support growth and mental growth that occurs during puberty. development. The damage from sleep Teens who use screens immediately before bed deficiency can occur in an instant, or it can 1

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JANUARY 17, 2019

harm you over time. For example, ongoing sleep deficiency can raise your risk for some chronic health problems. It also can affect how well you think, react, work, learn, and get along with other people.

and mentally, staying in a bad mood throughout the day.

How do screens affect your brain?

It is a known fact that children and teens spend a lot of time on screens each day. So what happens if you don’t get Although many parents have a powerful sense enough sleep? that they should do more to limit screenIf you’ve ever “TAKEN TOGETHER, INTERNET ADDICTION IS ASSOCIATED time for their children, spent a night tossing WITH STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL CHANGES IN they often question and turning, you whether there’s BRAIN REGIONS INVOLVING EMOTIONAL PROCESSING, already know how enough good health EXECUTIVE ATTENTION, DECISION MAKING, AND you’ll feel the next evidence to support day: tired, cranky, and COGNITIVE CONTROL.” taking away kids’ out of sorts. But devices. The truth is - Researchers Lin, Zhou and Du missing out on the there is a wide range recommended 9 to 10 of potential damage hours of sleep nightly screen time can incur —particularly in a young, does more than make you feel less yourself and still-developing brain. A summary of grumpy. The long-term effects of sleep neuroimaging findings of the brain when deprivation are real, draining your mental dealing with screen addiction by researchers abilities and putting your physical health at real Fuchun Lin, Yan Zhou, and Yasong Du (https:// risk. Sleep deprivation is linked with all kinds of www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/mental-wealth/ 201402/gray-matters-too-much-screen-time-damageshealth problems, from weight gain to a the-brain) found that: “Taken together, internet weakened immune system. This is especially addiction is associated with prominent in teens, as their structural and functional developing brains and bodies changes in brain regions require sleep to properly involving emotional experience both physical and processing, executive mental growth. The same MKA attention, decision making, survey cited above found that 86% and cognitive control.” Much of students when asked the of the damage occurs in the question—“Does lack of sleep brain’s frontal lobe, which affect your performance in undergoes massive changes everyday activities (sports, school from puberty until your etc.) the next day?”—answered twenties. The frontal lobe, in that it did affect their everyday turn, largely determines activities, with most noting that it success in every area of life— made them tired and unable to from a sense of mental health focus. One student reported that it to academic or eventually affected the completion of https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/ career success to relationship homework that afternoon or skills. Cell phones, computers evening, as the lack of sleep led to and TVs emit blue light, and exposure to that taking naps. Other students replied that they bluish light during the two hours before bed were grouchy and not themselves physically 2

JACK ROSELUND

JANUARY 17, 2019

can keep people from sleeping well. This is especially a problem for today’s teens, as the desire to socialize and be connected online is stronger than ever before.

component of education, and studies have proven that when students get more sleep, their test scores actually go up. Even more meaningful, the lowest performing students make the biggest progress in their learning Strategies to improve development when they had adequate sleep. Teens need to prioritize sleep and not engage in Schools around the world are now looking activities that are not helping your at later start brain get in times as new studies "OVER TIME, SLEEP DEPRIVATION LEADS TO SERIOUS the right Reported Before Bed mindset for released Activity by Teens CONSEQUENCES FOR ACADEMIC ACHIEVEMENT, sleep. In the show how SOCIAL BEHAVIOR, AND THE HEALTH AND SAFETY OF hours before important OUR NATION'S YOUTH.” bed, try sleep is for more - Representative Zoe Lofgen when the addressing later school times in the mellow developing United States activities, Relaxing Activities (Listening mind. As far to Music, Reading, etc.) such as back as 1999, a Homework listening to music or Video Games (Darker Green) member of Congress introduced a resolution to Social Media reading. The MKA survey make school start times later. Addressing the Other Screens (movies, tv etc.) cited above (see right) All other sections - irrelevant resolution, U.S. Representative Zoe Lofgren found that only 26% of (Democrat-California) said, "Over time, sleep the 50 polled reported deprivation leads to serious consequences for that they typically engage in relaxing activities academic achievement, social behavior, and the before bed, and all others continue to turn to health and safety of our nation's youth.” Later screens. starting times for school also affects students’ academic performance. Test scores and measurable results are such an important

Takeaways

Sleep is as natural and essential as eating and drinking. Sleep is especially crucial for teens, who are undergoing tremendous growth. However, some teenagers decide to choose screen-based social connection and other online activities over maximizing sleep. In the two hours before bedtime, screens can lead to sleep deprivation. According to an MKA survey, 86% of the 50 teens polled found that being tired affected their ability to focus and their performance in everyday activities the next day. Some schools have addressed the issue by making school starting times later to accommodate the significant amount of sleep teenagers require. Overall, screens have a massive effect on teens’ sleep habits. Many kids simply cannot resist the urge to be connected socially with friends, a decision that can come back to bite them not only the next day, but also in their long-term growth and development.

Ella Martin

January 17, 2019

SOCIAL MEDIA And Its Negative Affects on Teens

The Underlying Truth

Do you have social media? If so, how focused are you on getting likes, comments, followers, and gaining popularity? There are multiple ways that social media can be portrayed as competitive, including cyberbullying, and the focus on who is more popular than the other. All of these things blind people to the original intent of the platforms. Social media usage has developed through time and is actively used today throughout society. But what if it isn’t only improving communication, building relationships, and connecting the world? Social media can improve many aspects of communication, but it can also tear lives apart and cause detrimental eﬀects in young adolescents. Cyberbullying, lack of real-life interaction, the portrayal of “ideal” body types, and

http://teenpregnancy.acf.hhs.gov/sites/default/ﬁles/styles/resources_view/public/

isolation online have been found to increase the risk of depression, self-esteem issues, psychological distress, and even suicide. With the increasing rates of social media usage, teens, children, and even adults are spending more time isolated online, as they start to replace real-life interaction with online interaction. A 2012 study by the Center of Digital Future showed that the number of people reporting less face-to-face interaction within their families increased from 8% in 2000, all the way to 34% in 2011. Although online

communication through social media can nurture existing relationships, social skills that are adapted through online communication barely apply to the oﬄine world. It has also been discovered teens spending less time interacting in the real world put themselves at a higher risk of mental health problems, and online isolation can lead to depression and suicide. A study even found that when adults were given the opportunity to meet face-toface, 11% would rather communicate online as opposed to in person. This puts

Ella Martin

January 17, 2019

https://cdn.business2community.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/

time you go to post something on your social media account, think about it ﬁrst.

“Seeing other people’s comments have made me feel insecure or upset” a major strain on social skills, considering that 95% of communication is made up of nonverbal cues. Another hidden danger in social media is that once you post a picture on Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, etc., there’s no going back. Think about it: once you post something on your social media account, its traces will be on the website forever. In fact, 35% of college admission oﬃcers say they check potential students’ social media accounts to learn more about them. Fortunately, 47% of the time it has positively aﬀected their views on an applicant, which can be done by viewing the applicant’s positive hobbies, interests, and sports. But in 2017 it was recorded that 12% of denied Ivy league school applicants were denied because of something found on their social media account. So next

Social media has created an unhealthy environment where teenagers constantly search for the validation of others. App users often set up a false representation of their life to cover up any imperfections that might be seen otherwise; take Madison Holleran for example. Madison was a University of Pennsylvania college student with friends, family, and a successful sports record. But underneath her seemingly perfect life, Maddy suﬀered from depression. If you were to look through Maddy’s Instagram page today, you would see a happy teenage girl at her dream college. The truth is that Maddy wasn’t happy; she considered attempting suicide and was never truly happy with her

life. The hard but seemingly obvious truth is that texting and communicating online, in fact, do little to curb feelings of isolation and sadness when compared to real-life interaction. Not only can social media cover up any imperfections of your life, but it also sparks feelings of jealousy and envy that can lead to depression. Sadly, Maddy committed suicide on January 17, 2014, among six students at University of Pennsylvania who committed suicide from 2013-2014. A survey of 35 8th grade students at Montclair Kimberley Academy, an independent PreK-12 school in New Jersey, revealed that nearly half of the students surveyed felt that their social media account(s) did not accurately represent them. It was also found that 60% of the surveyed students had been negatively impacted by social media, and 40% were not.

https://si.wsj.net/public/resources/images/B3-

Ella Martin

Some open responses included remarks about FOMO, the fear of missing out; being made fun of; insecurities sparked by peoples’ feedback; feeling insecure about their body; and making them feel like they have to act a certain way. When asked about the competition factor of social media, 77.1% of the surveyed students responded that they view social media as competitive, and 22.9% said they didn’t. A majority of the responses included how the number of likes and followers people have aﬀected their popularity. Sadly, bullying inside and out of school environments is not a rare occurrence. But social media allows people to mercilessly bully through the web, avoiding face-to-face interaction. Though it isn’t being said to your face, cyberbullying can be just as, if not more, hurtful than in person. A study surveying teenagers revealed that 83% of teenagers have seen someone be mean online, whether or not they partook in it. In addition, it was found that 49.5% were victims of cyberbullying, and 33.7% had actually committed cyberbullying themselves. Like anything else in life, social media is good in moderation. Though there are positive

January 17, 2019

aspects of using social media, why subject today’s youth to such avoidable problems that can come from social media? There are many ways that conflicts resulting from social media can be avoided, such as limiting your screen time each day. Our youth is our future, so if our youth suffers, the future suffers.

Sources: Fagan, K. (2018). What made Maddy Run: The secret struggles and tragic death of an all-American teen. New York: Back Bay Books / Little, Brown and Company. The Negative Eﬀects Of Social Media On teenshttps:// familyinsights.net/advice/ negative-eﬀects-of-socialmedia-on-teens/ Social Media and Teens Today | Sophie Page | TEDxYouth@LakesideHSTED x Talks - https:// www.youtube.com/watch? v=TBIHHfzrAXw Survey results https:// docs.google.com/forms/d/ 1VpMfRf_qkbMLWQdjJ7TrY_ grawBIbTtmiEHiAY0HwrE/ edit#responses

ERIN FREEMAN

JANUARY 18, 2019

Eating Disorders and Teenage Athletes

What is it Like to Live with an Eating Disorder? Imagine being a competitive teenage figure skater and a ballerina who soon comes to develops anorexia nervosa. Constantly being reminded of how skinny and beautiful you are supposed to be in order to do well and be noticed in those sports. Imagine not having many friends in school because you went to a different high school than the majority of your middle school peers. This is what happened to Melanie Hall (not the real person’s name) when she was in her freshman year of high school. Melanie had been involved in two main sports her whole life: figure skating and ballet. Eventually Melanie’s sports began to get competitive, and she was at the level where it was implied to be thin. Due to her sports and social pressure, Melanie decided she wanted to become the ideal beauty: skinny and pretty. She felt that if she did this, not only would she get better at her sports, but she would also make more friends at school and overall have a better life. Melanie started out by restricting many unhealthy foods. She then began to exercise excessively, getting up each morning at 5:00 a.m. to do planks and run up and down the stairs before going to school a few hours later. Eventually, it became an obsession for her to become thinner. As Melanie began to get thinner, she knew subconsciously it was becoming a problem but somehow always managed to disregard those thoughts. After two years of not eating enough calories and exercising excessively, Melanie’s parents knew there was something wrong with her. Melanie was then taken to the hospital and received treatment right away; she was given healthy meals and put on bedrest. Without treatment, Melanie would not be able https://https://www.rehabs.com/explore/dying-tobe-barbie/#.XD_E7c9KgWowww.rehabs.com/ to get to where she is today, a happy and healthy 17-year-old.

What are Eating Disorders?

Eating disorders are abnormal eating behaviors that can become an addiction. One to two out of every 100 American students struggle with an eating disorder. The most common types of eating disorders are anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa. Other eating disorders include avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder (ARFID), binge eating disorder (BED), body image disorders, and other food phobias.

https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/athletes-eating-disorders

Those with eating disorders experience various symptoms depending on the disorder. Symptoms of anorexia nervosa include: fear of weight gain; having a false view of one’s body shape and size; hardly eating at all and constantly checking the intake of calories; and minimizing food intake by dieting, fasting, and excessively exercising. Bulimia nervosa, on the other hand, has only two symptoms: binge eating (consuming large amounts of unhealthy foods for a certain period of time) or trying to make up for binge eating by throwing up, excessively exercising, and using laxatives to prevent weight gain. People with bulimia can also have an incapacity to stop eating until they are full and are often overweight or an average weight for their height. People with ARFID have the following behaviors: they avoid certain colors and textures of food; eat only small portions; and don’t get enough nutrition in their diet to be healthy, which leads to weight loss. Those with a binge eating disorder binge eat but don’t purge to reduce weight gain like bulimia or anorexia.

Percentages: • Anorexia is the third most common chronic disease among young people, asthma and type 1 diabetes being the first two. • In a study of female Division II college

athletes, 25% had an eating disorder, 26% reported menstrual dysfunction, 10% had low bone mineral density, and 2.6% experiences all three symptoms.

• In weight-class sports (rowing, horse

racing, and wrestling) and aesthetic sports (bodybuilding, gymnastics, swimming, and diving), 33% of male athletes and 62% of female athletes develop eating disorders.

• 41.5% of female high school athletes

involved in aesthetic sports reported disordered eating.

Eating disorders have all kinds of different effects depending on the disorder. Anorexia nervosa causes the body to go into starvation mode due to a lack of nutrients, and can cause a drop in blood pressure, pulse, and breathing rate. In addition, anorexia also leads to swollen joints, brittle bones, lack of periods, lightheadedness, and anemia. A person whose body weight is at least 15% below the average weight for their height might not have enough body fat to keep their organs and other body parts healthy. Due to constantly throwing up and a lack of nutrition, bulimia nervosa can initiate constant stomach pain; stomach or kidney damage; tooth decay (due to exposure to stomach acids); “chipmunk cheeks” (caused by permanently expanded salivary glands); lack of periods, and loss of mineral potassium. Eating disorders are mental illnesses that can go along with anxiety, depression, or substance use. In some severe cases, eating disorders can lead to malnutrition or death.

What Causes Eating Disorders? The primary cause of eating disorders amongst teenagers is athletics. Athletics force a lot of stress upon young people, and not all of those stressors are positive. The pressure to win in an athletic competition and emphasis on body weight and shape becomes harmful and, in some cases, can lead to eating disorders. The desire to accelerate in athletics leads to eating disorders. Sports such as gymnastics, diving, bodybuilding, or wrestling emphasize appearance, weight requirements, or muscularity. Dance, track and field, figure skating, gymnastics, and diving all focus more on the individual rather than the entire team. Other endurance sports like swimming and running can also lead to eating disorders. According to the National Eating Disorders Association, in a study of Division 1 NCAA 2

athletes, over one-third of the female athletes reported aptitudes and symptoms that placed them at risk for developing anorexia nervosa. Eating disorders aren’t primarily caused by the sport itself, but also by different aspects of life during and outside of the sport. For instance, coaches who primarily focus on success and performance of the athlete rather than the athlete as a whole person, can encourage abnormal eating behaviors in their athletes. In addition, there are three particular risk factors thought to contribute to a female athlete’s vulnerability to develop an eating disorder: social influence emphasizing thinness, performance anxiety, and negative self-evaluation of athletic achievement. Other risk factors include low selfesteem; family dysfunction (parents who live through the success of their child in his or her sport); families with histories of eating disorders; chronic dieting; history of physical or sexual abuse; and other traumatic life experiences.

Eating Disorders. (2014, October) Retrieved from https://kidshealth.org/en/teens/eat-disorder.html? WT.ac=ctg Lanigan, P. A. (2018, December 16). [Personal interview by the author]. Personal experience dealing with a teenage athlete who had an eating disorder.

Sources (APA):

Statistics & Research on Eating Disorders. (2018, September 14). Retrieved from https:// www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/statistics-researcheating-disorders

Eating Disorders & Athletes. (2018, April 27). Retrieved from https:// www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/eating-disordersathletes

TREATMENTS & WAYS TO AVOID EATING DISORDERS

https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/athletes-eating-disorders

There are many ways to help avoid and treat eating disorders. According to an interview with Ms. Peggy Lanigan, whose granddaughter was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa as a teenager, joining a hospitalized program that puts one on bedrest, provides healthy meals, and encourages healthier eating habits, was a very effective way to treat her granddaughter’s eating disorder. Since eating disorders are also mental illnesses, other effective treatments can consist of therapy counseling; seeing a medical doctor; seeing a mental health professional; or seeing a dietitian. However, it doesn’t always have to involve hospitalization as there are other ways to avoid eating disorders. For example, positive, person-oriented coaching styles should be encouraged rather than negative performance-oriented styles. Instead of socially influencing using a negative attitude, look towards enforcing positive social influences and encouraging athletes with a healthy attitude towards body size. Lastly, coaches, parents, and teammates who emphasize personal success, such as motivation and enthusiasm rather than body weight or shape, can avoid creating eating disorders. It isn’t so hard to look towards the positive side of things, and with a positive attitude you can easily help someone live a simple 3

Katherine Lynch

January 22, 2019

GRAFFITI: ART OR A WASTE OF SPACE?

Currently, there is a piece of art in Wales that is causing some trouble for the locals nearby. The artwork appeared on a garage in Port Talbot shortly before Christmas. This work was done by Banksy, an anonymous, [in]famous street artist from England who’s known for the political messages behind his work. A few months earlier in August, a man named Gary Owens messaged Banksy on Instagram asking him to do a piece in Port Talbot about its pollution problem. Ian Lewis, the owner of the garage upon which the piece was painted, was very happy about its arrival. Banksy is extremely famous in the UK, so it’s an honor to have one of his works on your building.

http://www.banksy.co.uk/img/snow3.jpg

This is the painting in Port Talbot, depicting a child who appears to be playing in snow; however, if you look to the other wall, you can see that the white ﬂakes are not, in fact, snow, but rather ashes.

Banksy’s graffiti career began when he was 14, so if you go by the speculation that he was born in 1975, he began doing graffiti in 1989. By 2000, his career had really kicked off, and Banksy had his first formal exhibition. However, following the trend of his work throughout the

Graﬃti: Art or a Waste of Space?

Katherine Lynch

January 22, 2019

years, the exhibition was atypical in that he opted not to tell the public the street it was held on, just the number of the building it was in. His unusual practices have continued throughout the years, which is shown through the following: putting a painting of his in the Tate, a famous British museum, without the permission of the curators; many other paintings of his being illicitly placed in famous museums, like the Museum of Modern Art in New York City; an exhibition of his in 2005 containing 200 live rats running around (Brennan, 2007); and the one in which he is remotely shredding a painting of his after it had already been sold (Banksy, 2019). This all leads us to his new piece in Wales, which is causing some controversy.

Mr. Lewis was very concerned about the safety of the piece, so the Neath Port Talbot council installed a fence around that section of the garage to protect it (Port Talbot Banksy: Man 'asked artist to paint snow mural, 2018). The fence was definitely required, because soon after the news of the piece spread online thousands of visitors flocked to the garage. People began to try chipping pieces off of the piece, and some even threw rocks. Because of this, a plastic screen had to be put around the piece to keep it safe from any tampering. This attention is putting a lot of stress on Mr. Lewis, and Mr. Owens has been quoted, saying: “I think Banksy should've put it somewhere else […] on a private building like this, it's a lot of stress for the owner” (ITV Report, 2019). This leads us to a logical question: should Banksy’s art be left up, even though it’s illegal and

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DpPkKn_XUAA0SgB.jpg

could cause issues for people who own the property it’s put on?

“I always think that planning and thought should go in behind some art.” -JOELLE FRANCHT

To answer the question posed, we

painting or sculpture, producing works to be

must ﬁrst ask a few diﬀerent questions:

appreciated primarily for their beauty or

does Banksy’s work even count as art?

emotional power” (Oxford Living

What is art anyway? Well, the dictionary

Dictionaries, 2019). According to this

deﬁnition of art as a mass noun is: “The

deﬁnition, then yes, Banksy’s work is art.

expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as

Graﬃti: Art or a Waste of Space?

This is the shredded piece, previously named “Girl With Balloon.” It is now called “Love is in the Bin.”

His work is meant speciﬁcally to provoke thought and emotion (even if

Katherine Lynch

January 22, 2019

that emotion is bewilderment). However, everyone has a diﬀerent deﬁnition of what art is. Joelle

“lovely,” but that, “I think that the person should have a say in what goes on the building and be

Francht, Visual Arts teacher at Montclair Kimberley Academy, a Pre-K

happy with it, because at the end of the day it’s their building,” which is

to 12 independent school in New

eminently agreeable. The idea

Jersey, comments: “Sometimes I think

is that if you legalize something, you can

it varies from case to case, I think... it’s

begin to regulate it. It is not realistic to

hard to say. I always think that planning

think that unwanted street art should be

and thought should go in behind some

legal, or that everyone should

art. But then, you think some things

give up on having their property clean

can be spontaneous. I think

http://www.banksy.co.uk/img/0718/01_pompidourat_website_02.jpg

that art should have a purpose. I think it should evoke an emotion.” Ms. Francht’s deﬁnition shares some similarities with the dictionary

A piece by Banksy

featuring one of his signature rats.

definition, but also raises a few different points; especially important is that art needs to have a purpose. Does Banksy’s art have purpose? Yes, definitely. It’s meant to commentate

of spray paint and mess, just that it’d

be a smart idea for more places to allow street art. That could possibly pull current graﬃti artists away from doing their art illegally, and make

more people interested in learning about street art.

on politics or culture in a meaningful way.

Even so, with all the beneﬁts these spaces could bring, there would be a portion of graﬃti artists who

This type of art, one with a type of commentary or message behind it, is very important to keep alive.

street art,’ because there’s no risk to it. There are many people who enjoy the thrill of graﬃti and the

Using graﬃti as the medium for this art is a good way for people with messages to put their point

idea of taunting the authorities more than the art aspect of it, so using a place that’s perfectly safe

across, since graﬃti is sort of forcibly in your face. If someone needs an outlet for their ideas or opinions,

and legal wouldn’t be seen as very enjoyable to them.

they sometimes choose street art: it depends on what medium would work best for their work.

However, there is still the issue that graﬃti can be diﬃcult for the property owners to deal with, here is

would look down upon these spots as ‘not true

Nonetheless, despite the motivation behind the graﬃti, if it’s thoughtful, it is art; and art should be protected.

a proposal: some property owners, rather than shying away from the idea of street art on their properties, should allow it. Ms. Francht responded to the proposal by saying that she thought it was Graﬃti: Art or a Waste of Space?

By Alanna Clayton

January 16, 2019

GIVING THE GIFT OF LIFE THE IMPORTANCE OF ORGAN DONATION

https://journalofethics.ama-assn.org/issue/organ-transplantation

Every year organ donation gives

thousands of adults and children a chance to live their lives to the fullest. Often the amount of organs needed to save lives outweighs the amount of organs available. By the time you’re ﬁnished reading this article, at least one person will have been added to the transplant waiting list. In 2004, a happy 14-year-old girl named Alexa was added to the transplant list in need of a life-saving lung. Alexa was diagnosed with lung disease at the age of seven. When she reached 12-years -old, she developed pulmonary hypertension, a life-threatening illness. Alexa stayed on the list for seven months. In July of 2004, Alexa died while

waiting for her transplant. Everyone can help save lives by registering to become an organ donor. Anyone can donate an organ such as a kidney, a part of your liver, partial intestine, and even a lobe of your lung while you’re still alive. Many people are unaware of what organ donation really is. Organ donation is the process by which a person allows an organ to be removed and transplanted to another person. This must be

HOW TO HELP Sign up to be an organ

donor by going to https:// www.organdonor.gov/ register.html

Help raise awareness

about organ donation and encourage others to sign up to save lives

By Alanna Clayton

done legally, by consent, whether the donor is alive or dead. Most organ donation procedures occur after the donor has died. While a donor is alive, he or she can donate a kidney, part of their liver, or part of their lung. There are as many living donors as there are deceased donors per year. Organ donation isn’t simply handing your organ to the next person, it’s a very complicated process. Every patient who is waiting to receive an organ must be registered to the organ donation list called OPTN, the organ procurement and transplant network. Inside of OPTN is a united network for sharing organs, called UNOS. There are many factors determining which people are to receive the available organs, which are blood type, body size, the severity of the patient's medical condition, the patients waiting time, and the distance between the donor's hospital and the patient's hospital. Depending on the organ, some of these factors may be more important because certain organs are viable for less time than others. For example, a heart can only stay viable for 4-6 hours, whereas a kidney can stay viable for 24-36 hours. In the former case, the distance between the donor's hospital and the patient's hospital is critical. Students at Montclair Kimberley Academy Middle School, a pre-K-12 independent school in New Jersey, were asked to answer certain questions regarding organ donation. One of the questions asked the students if they would consider registering as an organ donor when they turned 18-years-old. Only 28% said that they would become an organ donor, whereas 32% said no, they wouldn’t become a donor. The overwhelming statistic is that almost 40% said that they are not informed enough to make that decision. When the students were asked why they wouldn’t consider becoming a donor, there were many different responses recorded, but 14% stated that it was for religious reasons and 28% simply did not want to give up their own organs. A whopping 50% said it was because

January 16, 2019

The country is divided into 11 regions for liver distribution. (UNOS)

https://www.google.com/search?

q=who+deserves+an+organ+transplant&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwirvJrJkvXfAhVoS98KHXzDC7kQ_AUIDygC&biw=1258&bih=654#i mgrc=km1rOFAALWWFMM:

they were not educated on the topic. Students should be educated on organ donation, before it comes time to make the big decision when they become of age. Schools should have people who have knowledge about organ donation come in to educate kids starting in 8th grade and continuing through 12th grade. Education on organ donation is a crucial matter that is often overlooked. The idea of becoming an organ donor is generally not a topic that would come up at the dinner table, and due to its sensitivity, it is a matter that needs to be carefully discussed. When schools decide to educate their students, there may be Survey Question- When you a need to have a become 18 would you consider conversation involving becoming an organ donor? the families ﬁrst. Red-No, I wouldn't Parents may not want Blue-Yes, I would their children being Orange-I don’t have enough exposed to a touchy information to decide subject, and there are 2

By Alanna Clayton

religions that do not allow for organ donation to take place. Schools should address the upcoming lessons to the parents before informing the students on the matter. There are also differing opinions about when children should be introduced to the subject of organ donation. A Netherlands survey was sent to principals, part-time teachers, and full-time teachers which asked a series of questions including, “What age groups should be receiving an informative lesson on organ donation?” The survey showed that a signiﬁcant number believed the best age to be educated was between 9- and 11-years-old. Children should be informed on the subject as a whole, but not brought into the idea of donating until they are older. The Hero Act, signed into law by Governor Richard J. Codey on July 22, 2008, states that “Beginning with the 2009-2010 school year, each public high school in NJ is required to ensure that information about organ and tissue donation is included in the Core Curriculum Content Standards for Comprehensive Health and Physical Education for grades 9-12.” Private schools rarely include education on organ donation. There is no law that states that it is mandatory for private schools to educate their students on this subject. Private middle schools and high schools should at least information on organ donation, if they will not make it a mandatory lesson. There are many different ways to educate youth on organ donation, if, as in public schools, there are not mandatory health classes. There are simple methods for education, such as books or websites, or there are speakers who could come in to schools to present. Most private schools hold mandatory health classes in ﬁfth and sixth grade, and they could start including organ donation as a topic. Children need to be enlightened, so that they can seize the opportunity to donate as soon as they reach age 18. Every day the list of people in need of organs becomes longer and longer.

January 16, 2019

A year ago, 30,000 individuals started new lives thanks to organ donations. Donating organs after death can allow families to work through the process of grieving and manage their feelings by realizing their loved one is helping to save the lives of others. One organ donor can save eight lives! Please sign up to be an organ donor, as soon as you are eligible. Matching Donors and Recipients. (n.d.). Retrieved January 17, 2019, from https://www.organdonor.gov/ about/process/matching.html#criteria Open Disaggregated Transport Network. (n.d.). Retrieved January 13, 2019, from https:// www.opennetworking.org/odtn/ The Importance of Organ & Tissue Donation. (n.d.). Retrieved January 14, 2019, from https:// www.luriechildrens.org/en/specialties-conditions/ pediatric-transplantation/the-importance-of-organtissue-donation/ The Organ Transplant Process. (n.d.). Retrieved January 16, 2019, from https://www.organdonor.gov/about/ process/transplant-process.html Alexa's Story - Passed Waiting for a Transplant. (n.d.). Retrieved December 28, 2018, from https:// www.donatelifemidwest.org/dlfmw_story/alexas-story/ Education and Outreach. (n.d.). Retrieved January 6, 2019, from https://www.njsharingnetwork.org/education Religion and Organ Donation. (n.d.). Retrieved December 19, 2018, from http:// www.donorrecovery.org/learn/religion-and-organdonation/ Explaining Donation & Transplantation to Children. (n.d.). Retrieved January 8, 2019, from https:// donatelifecalifornia.org/education/educator-resources/ explaining-to-children/ Siddique, A. (2018, April 11). OG | Top 5 Reasons To Become an Organ Donor. Retrieved January 9, 2019, from https://www.nebraskamed.com/transplant/heart/ top-5-reasons-to-become-an-organ-donor

Divided We Fall Katrina Eilender

https://www.app.com/story/opinion/columnists/2017/07/05/buchanan-america-stillnation/103433350/

â&#x20AC;&#x153;I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic, for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." Are these words, uttered every morning by millions of solemn schoolchildren, still completely true? Is the U.S.A. a nation which stands as one united front, a nation that refuses to let differences divide it? In recent years, the U.S.A. has become increasingly politically polarized. According to Kristin Cabral, a political activist and Democratic nominee for Congress in the 2012 midterm election for the House of Representatives Race for the state of Virginia-District 10, both parties are moving away from the middle. To many Americans, Donald Trump is the figure that most clearly represents this migration away from the center. However, she adds, Trump is a symptom, and not the cause, of a disease that has been plaguing America for a long time. There is less middle ground between the parties and fewer independent voters as each party sinks deeper into its own extremes, leaving little ideological overlap between the left and the right. In the 1970s, 60 percent of congressmen voted only with their party; now that number is up to 90 percent. This makes compromise and effective bipartisan decision-making much harder. And itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not just politicians; the same thing is

happening to the American people. The number of people who hold consistently conservative or liberal views doubled from 1984 to 2014, just three decades. As the country became more polarized, people have become less tolerant of those who oppose their political views. More than half of registered Democrats and Republicans today view the other party as a threat to the nationâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s well-being. Even more disturbingly, 49 percent of Republicans and 33 percent of Democrats would not approve of their child marrying a person from a different political party, up from only 5 percent of both parties in the 1960s. It is astounding that Americans have begun to choose party loyalty over the potential happiness of their children. Political views now play a significant role in how Americans judge each other as people. This, coupled with both parties moving towards more extreme political views, creates a breeding ground for animosity. Political polarization is a multi-faceted issue that is contributed to by many factors. Ms. Cabral says that there is no singular cause, but that the election of Ronald Reagan caused a big divide between Democrats and Republicans, and the chasm only got wider with the election of many extreme-right politicians, especially Newt Gingrich, who was elected Speaker of the House, in the midterms of 1994. The results of this election led to the impeachment of Bill Clinton, a contentious issue which served to further polarize America. The skyrocketing use of money in politics also contributed to the problem, because after the Supreme Court ruled in Citizens United that corporations were allowed to donate as much money to campaigns as they wanted, without limits, big corporations now wield incredible power over who gets elected and what their politics are. As if that weren't bad enough, studies have shown that corporations tend to fund much more extreme politicians than citizens or political parties. This obviously leads to a political landscape dominated by extremes. Congress does not meet nearly as often as they used to, and as a result, Congressmen and their families are spending less time in DC, where they might encounter and socialize with people of all different opinions and views, and more time in their own districts, which are often made up mostly of people who share their views.

https://abc7news.com/politics/logo-for-clintoncampaign-sparks-questions/656915/

This is just one example of the problem of geographical separation from people with different political views that is affecting all of America. People who are liberal tend to live on the coasts, while people who are conservative tend to live in the middle of the country. This means that people are much less likely to come into contact with people who challenge their world view, and it also means they are much less likely to understand and empathize with their political opposition. This “bubble” is made even worse by the media. When you use Facebook, Instagram, or one of many other social media sites, these sites give you more of what you like or follow. Thus, you are very unlikely to encounter content from the other side of the political spectrum than yourself, trapping you in a “bubble” of your own convictions, not allowing you to learn about the other side of the story. That makes it hard for you to change or shift your political position, and reinforces your beliefs, no matter how extreme they are. In today’s digital society, it is also much harder to be ostracized for extreme beliefs. For example, if a student says very misogynistic or racist things at school, the other students will like him less. He will suffer consequences and be exposed to the problems with his beliefs. But if he posts the same things on social media, he does not have to deal with the repercussions. There are no voices from the other side to contradict him, and so his extreme views are reinforced.

https://shop.donaldjtrump.com/products/official-donald-trump-make-america-greatagain-cap-red

So what are some solutions to this problem that is dividing America? How can we fill in this chasm? According to Ms. Cabral, some major steps in the right direction would be to have the presidential election be by popular vote, rather than the Electoral College, which gives an astoundingly disproportionate amount 2

of power to rural states with low population instead of the places where more people actually are. This disproportion causes extreme views, which very few people agree with, to be over-represented. Reforming the primary system would also be beneficial, she says, because shifting the responsibility of choosing candidates to the actual parties would hold them responsible and push them towards more moderate candidates, which they tend to lean towards already, because more moderate candidates make the party look good. As a citizen, you can't single- handedly execute these solutions, but Ms. Cabral opines: “The most important power lies in the hands of your average citizen. They need to participate in their democracy and get in touch with grass-roots groups, they are really driving the change. Whether writing a letter calling, etc., citizens have to make the parties listen to them.” The country needs effective leaders who are willing to cooperate, compromise, and do what is best for America, even if that means giving up on some of each party's agenda. Americans cannot simply blame the other party over and over again for issues that everyone helped create. Americans need to stop our primitive tendencies toward tribalism and participate in the democratic process in order to make things better. If we are able to accomplish that, those schoolchildren will be telling the truth. Sources Blankhorn, D. (2016, May 16). The Top 14 Causes of Political Polarization. Retrieved January 18, 2019, from https://www.the-american-interest.com/2018/05/16/thetop-14-causes-of-political-polarization/ Cabral, Kristin. "Political Polarization in America." Interview. Doherty, Carroll. “7 Things to Know about Polarization in America." Pew Research Center. June 12, 2014. Accessed December 19, 2018. http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2014/06/12/7things-to-know-about-polarization-in-america/. Rosenbluth, Frances Mcall, and Ian Shapiro. "Political Partisanship Is Vicious. That’s Because Political Parties Are Too Weak." Washington Post, November 28, 2017. Accessed December 19, 2018 https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2018/11/28/p olitical-partisanship-is-vicious-thats-because-politicalparties-are-too-weak/?utm_term=.019e6e6dede3.

L ila Jung ‘24

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Anna Gardiner ‘23

Katherine Lynch ‘23 and Kate McClusky ‘23

Ella Wheeler ‘23

Sophia Eichmann ‘23

Alanna Clayton ‘23, Freddy Bishop ‘23, and Zhenia Doluda ‘23

Sophia Eichmann ‘23

Stephanie Zhang ‘23

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Lindsay Fouché ‘25 My mother and I are swept into a large group of people walking swiftly and with confidence. The sun is beaming on the back of my head. Someone to the right of me bellows: “How many lives is it going to take for you to understand? I hear another man shout from behind: “Put your guns down!” I believe this is about all the recent shootings, but I’m not quite sure. I look back to find my mother; instead the setting sun blinds me. I focus my eyes and search for my mother’s familiar face. I spot her with her fist in the air, and she gives me her sweet loving smile. All of a sudden, the screams and shouts were drowned out by the sudden eruption of bright sirens. My insides jump. I stand on my tip-toes and whisper into my mother’s ear: “Momma, I’m scared.” “It’s okay sweetie, nothing is going to happen; just fight for what you believe.” She strokes my braided hair and places a soft kiss on my cheek. My jaw tightens and a strength within me fires up. A few moments ago, I was walking on the street heading home without any purpose, but now I know what I’m going to do. My mouth opens wide to scream, but no sound comes out. I pause for a moment to look around: I see the struggle in my momma’s eyes, I see the worry in others’ eyes, but they keep fighting. I want to be like them, I want to stand strong with them. I throw my fist into the air with great force. “How much longer is this going to go on for?” I hear screams of agreement and at that moment I felt I was important, too. I had a voice of my own and I was finally using it. I marched on with loud screams and shouts. All you can hear from where I am standing is the shuffling of feet and the sound of sirens. The police begin to build a wall around us, but we keep fighting. As they squeeze tighter, we push out harder, but the wall surrounding us becomes too tight. “How many more!” THUMP. “How many more!” THUMP. Soon everyone has joined the chant, even me. We throw our fists in the air. THUMP. Soon the chant itself drowns out the sirens. We stand strong until the police give up, until OUR voices are heard!

https://moguldom.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/AP_18259862919182.jpg

Jemma Potenza ‘25 LGBT SIGN I’ve been sitting on this table for a while now and I want to be used. I’ve seen posters come and go with beautiful words of peace and decorations by an artist. I want words and decorations on me. My dream is to be raised up in the air with the most beautiful words and the most graceful colors. Everyone will stare at me. While I’m being raised, world peace will finally occur, and I will be in the middle of it all. The owner of this table, that I live on, walks into the room with a newspaper and starts to frown when she sees a certain page. Then she develops an idea: I can tell because of her facial expressions. She sits down and starts searching. For what, I wonder? Then, she sees me and smirks. She gathers paints and brushes, colors and tools. She grabs me; I know what is happening. She is using me! Finally! About time! She clutches a pad of paper about the same size as me. She starts sketching with her artist tools. I can’t see what is happening, but I know it will be a masterpiece. When she is done, she goes on the laptop. I can’t see what’s happening, but I can hear it! As she picks me up, I see a glimpse of what she was working on. She was sending an email to a newspaper company about a protest she was planning. October 11th. That’s one week from now! One Week Later… I open my ‘eyes’ and I feel like a new poster. I feel more… alive with colors and words. I also feel sturdier, must be a stick or something like that. She smiles at her work as the colors of the rainbow crease her cheeks; she is wearing rainbow suspenders and a shirt that calls, “STAND OUT!” She stuffs me into her bag; a dark small space. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear a lot. A car starting, horns honking, people yelling and cheering. I hear everything on the way to this protest. Next thing I know I am taken out of her bag and I am raised up in the air in front of a huge crowd. Everyone stares at me, half with disbelief and the other with happiness. I don’t know what I say, but I know it’s beautiful. “‘Some boys like boys, some girls like girls. Some people are trans!’ Those words are what you see before you right now. Some of you may not like them, some of you may think they are the most beautiful words in the world. The rainbow. That is also what you see before you right now. Some of you may think it is just colors. Some of you may think it is a symbol of something remarkable or something hideous. And that is why I’m here: to change people’s perspectives of LGBT people. “If anyone doesn’t know what that stands for, then you’re the ones I’m trying to get to!” the rainbowed artist shouts as I am still raised high. “It’s not hideous or disgusting or rare to find someone who is LGBT! No one who is LGBT should feel embarrassed or bad that they are who they are. It doesn’t matter who you are. Now, enough talk! Let’s go on that march! Woo! Let’s go!” the rainbowed artist yells and steps off the platform onto the hard blacktop. She walks up to the front of the crowd with me in the air. I’m ready. I’m ready to go on this march. I’m ready to be in the front of this protest. I’m ready to be seen by everyone. I’m ready to be in the air, flying through the wind. I’m ready to change the world.

https://www.facebook.com/minus18youth/photos/a.10150164961725785/10155169174295785/?type=1&theater

Monica Labib ‘23 The Role of Women in the Colonial Era Women were thought to be inferior to men in the eighteenth century and were always secondary to men in the colonies. These facts were never questioned in the eighteenth century regarding a woman’s rights. Colonists accepted the fact that women were subordinate to men, and this affected the number of rights a woman had compared to a man. Eighteenth century colonists believed a woman’s rite of passage was to become a housewife or bear children. Colonists wanted to enforce these rights, and they did so with religion and law. A woman who got married had her legal rights as an unmarried woman taken away because colonists saw no need for a woman to enjoy the free rights, but they reassured the married woman that they were “secure under their husbands’ wing, protection, and cover.” Male colonists in the eighteenth century used religion and laws to emphasize women’s roles in society and to sustain the thought that women were inferior to and had weaker minds than men. Throughout the eighteenth century, colonists believed that women were on earth only to be housewives and bear children. Colonists believed this because John Winthrop concluded that a woman’s madness began because of reading books. He says, “If she had attended her household affairs and such things as belong to a woman, and not gone out of her way and calling to meddle in such things as are proper to men, whose minds are stronger, etc.” He then explained that she might have “kept her wits” if she hadn’t been doing things that were proper to men.1 He believed that a woman’s mind was weaker than a man’s mind, so women should attend to the household and do things that are proper for women. The appropriate work for women in the eighteenth century was for a woman to become a housewife or bear children. In a letter from Thomas Jefferson to his daughter, he explained that he was overjoyed when he received letters from his daughter saying she was going to become a housewife and a mother. “Your two last letters,” Thomas Jefferson wrote to his daughter Martha, “are those which have given me the greatest pleasure of any I ever received from you. The one announced that you were to become a notable housewife; the other, a mother.” He was thrilled because Martha was fulfilling her life’s role and performing a rite of passage.2 Even though women were secondary to men and were expected to be obedient, women were given respect 1

Carol Berkin, Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America’s Independence (New York: Knopf, 2005), 3. 2 Julia Cherry Spruill, “In the Increasing Way,” in Women’s Life and Work in the Southern Colonies (New York: Norton, 1972), 44, 45.

because of the many chores they did as a housewife.3 Women had multiple responsibilities for the many aspects of the everyday lives of their family members. They were valued and thought that God had created them to be a helpmate to men. From childhood, women heard that their fate was to become a housewife: “Ministers sermonized it, educators elaborated it, lawmakers codified it, and poets versified it.”4 There were many things a woman had to do in a household, such as prepare meals; care for children; wash and iron clothing; care for the sick; prepare home medical remedies; garden; and carry out many other tasks that were vital to the overall productivity of the home.5 George Wythe, husband of Elizabeth Wythe, understood the hardships of taking care of his household when his wife died. He took the responsibility of taking care of the house and explained it to be a difficult job.6 Women’s social roles, enforced by colonists in the eighteenth century, came out of Christian beliefs. This is evident in the book, The Well Ordered Family, because Benjamin Wadsworth reminded women that God made Eve as a helpmate to Adam and that the apostles required “wives to be faithful in all things, keepers of the home.” John Milton also sums up the relationship between a husband and wife in the eighteenth century: “He for God only; She for God in him.”7 Women were within a society in which their legal rights were limited and their social duties were recognized only in relationship to men. The stand on church membership allowed women to stand as individuals, faceto-face, not only with God, but with their communities.8 In the sermon preached by Cotton Mather from Ornaments for the Daughters of Zion, it explains that a woman must please her husband because he is her guide by God: “But her love to her husband, will also admit, yea, and produce the fear of, a cautious diligence never to displease him … While she looks upon him as her guide, by the constitution of God, she will not scruple with Sarah to call him her lord; and though she does not fear his blows, yet she does fear his frowns, being loath in any way to grieve him, or cause an head-ache in the family by offending him … In every lawful thing she submits her will and sense to his, where she cannot with calm reasons 3

“Women in Society during the Colonial and Revolutionary Eras,” American History Online, last modified 2011, accessed October 14, 2018, https://online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=17980&itemid=WE52&articleId=165743. 4 Berkin, Revolutionary Mothers, 5. 5 D. Thorp, “Women’s Roles,” in Colonial America: Acadia-Byrd II, William, volume 10 ed. (Danbury, Conn.: Grolier Educational, 1998), 787. 6 Pat Chilton, interview by Monica Labib, Colonial Williamsburg, VA, October 24, 2018. 7 Berkin, Revolutionary Mothers, 5. 8 “Women in Society,” American History Online.

convince him of inexpediences; and instead of grudging … contradiction, she acts as if there were but one mind in two bodies…” This sermon explains that when a woman gets married she would present her senses to her husband’s and their minds would interact as one.9 Women would not sit next to men in church, but across from the men. Rich men would sit in the front, and women would sit across from their husbands. Even though church membership allowed women to stand as individuals, women did not play roles in the church community.10 An unmarried and a widowed woman was believed to have more legal rights than those of a married woman. Without a husband, a woman remained between childhood and adulthood. The English colonial society offered her no other rites of passage into adulthood beside marriage and motherhood. An unmarried woman was known as a “feme sole,” which translates to woman alone; a femme sole was responsible for herself. Some of the legal rights of a feme sole were that she could sue and be sued; earn whatever wages she could; buy and sell property; and will her assets to her heirs. Without these legal rights, a woman who did not have family support would have hardships living in the eighteenth century.11 Widowed women, unlike married women, could own property and act as managers of their own estates. Many widows became successful and powerful individuals.12 Although colonial women did not own property, one example of a woman who was married and owned property is Elizabeth Wythe.13 Once a woman got married, English society saw no need for her to enjoy the rights of an unmarried woman. Society saw no need for a woman to keep the rights of a feme sole, but they guaranteed that her husband would offer protection. The married woman’s status changed from a feme sole to a feme covert, which translates to woman covered. A feme covert was a free woman, white or black, and did not have the same legal rights as a feme sole. The woman and all that she owned became her husband’s property. The English jurist Blackstone wrote, “By marriage, the husband and wife are one person in law: that is, the very being or legal existence of the woman is suspended during the marriage, or at least is incorporated and consolidated into that of the husband.” Though women knew that they would lose their rights as a feme sole, they would get married because of social and religious pressure, and a woman felt that when she got married, she would have protection given from her

husband.14 Inequality among women was evident during the eighteenth century. There was a strong belief that men and women were different from one another, and women were perceived as inferior to males. Historically, women were viewed as intellectually inferior to their male counterparts. Women were also considered weaker and were expected to be housewives. The role of a woman consisted of bearing children and completing domestic chores. In addition, the inferiority of a women in the eighteenth century impacted their rights. For instance, once married, women lost their legal identity. They no longer had the right to sue people or be sued. They also could not own or sell land and could not pass their assets to their heirs. Religion and law were incorporated into society in order to support and justify the inferiority of women. These guidelines for women were utilized in society and kept women within certain boundaries. Bibliography Carol Berkin, Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America’s Independence (New York: Knopf, 2005), 3. Cotton Mather, “Ornaments for the Daughters of Zion” (speech transcript, Boston, 1692). D. Thorp, “Women’s Roles,” in Colonial America: Acadia-Byrd II, William, volume 10 ed. (Danbury, Conn.: Grolier Educational, 1998), 787. Julia Cherry Spruill, “In the Increasing Way,” in Women’s Life and Work in the Southern Colonies (New York: Norton, 1972), 44, 45. Pat Chilton, interview by Monica Labib, Colonial Williamsburg, VA, October 24, 2018. “Women in Society during the Colonial and Revolutionary Eras,” American History Online, last modified 2011, accessed October 14, 2018, https://online.infobase.com/Auth/ Index?aid=17980&itemid=WE52&articleId=165743 .

Cotton Mather, “Ornaments for the Daughters of Zion” (speech transcript, Boston, 1692). 10 Chilton, interview. 11 Berkin, Revolutionary Mothers, 5. 12 “Women in Society,” American History Online. 13 Chilton, interview.

Chilton, interview.

Ava Kopelan ‘23 Labor in the Colonial Era Labor under masters in Colonial America usually refers to slavery; however, there existed another form of labor unfamiliar to most people called indentured servitude. In fact, indentured servitude represented the predominant form of work in the early years of Colonial America, far more common than slavery. Indentured servants were Europeans who put themselves, of their own free will, in a slave-like employment agreement. Despite the cruel nature of slavery, economic pressures ultimately led to its expansion. The high costs of indentured servitude led to increased rates of slavery. Indentured servants coming from England entered agreements obligating them to work for companies. One of the companies that offered this type of arrangement was the Virginia Company of London, a joint-stock company responsible for expanding and improving Virginia. This company depended on young, poor English people to fill their labor demands.1 Impoverished people from Europe, usually in their 20s, that needed jobs were forced to enter servitude. Another reason they became servants was because they were too poor to pay for their journey to America. Instead of buying and transporting slaves, the company encouraged landowners to pay for the journey to America. In exchange for the paid transportation to America as well as shelter, food, and clothing, servants would work for seven years. The Virginia Company incentivized the expansion of the labor force of the first colony. Land owners were given deeds of 50 acres for each servant transported, and the company guaranteed a share of the first colony’s profits to the first group of servants to come.2 Despite the benefits of entering servitude, there were many downsides to entering such an agreement, including harsh punishment if they stepped out of line. Indentured servants relinquished their freedom and independence and were expected to adhere to their masters’ demands. A legal system was created that focused on controlling servants’ behavior, and the laws allowed masters to punish their servants when they did not obey the rules.3 Masters would add time to their contract, whip them, crop their hair, or brand them if they ran away. This system worked well until fewer and fewer young English people wanted to come to America, creating a deficit in the workforce. Masters had to find an alternative source of labor. By the 18th century another form of indentured servitude called the redemptioner system was developed. As thousands of Swiss and German families journeyed to the New World, they discovered they could not finance their voyage. Ship captains took the amount of money that the immigrants had on them and gave

Sharon V. Salinger and Billy G. Smith, “labor in colonial America,” in Colonization and Settlement, http://online.infobase.com/ Auth/Index?aid=17980&itemid=WE52&articleId=212591. 2 Salinger and Smith, “labor in colonial.” 3 Salinger and Smith, “labor in colonial.”

passengers a certain amount of time, around 14 days, to pay the rest of the total due. If the passengers could not get the rest of the money, the captain sold them into servitude to compensate for the debt.4 This allowed landowners to get new servants; however, this supply eventually ran out as well. Another source of indentured servitude was the labor of convicts. These people were convicted of crimes, and instead of going through punishment, their sentence was going to the colonies to become indentured servants. Merchants made money from selling convicts as servants.5 The convict’s punishment was to be an indentured servant; this was a punishment because they had to work from the start of the day to the end of the day. The common convicts who entered servitude were debtors. If someone was in debt, they would be put in jail for 21 days; their property would be sold, and that money would be used to pay off the debt. If there was money left, the person would get that money. If their property was not worth enough, they would become indentured and work through the day and live at the jail.6 This was another system that gave landowners more laborers. Lack of workers was not the only problem, though. Masters also struggled with money problems. The Company suffered from financial struggles because of the expense of their servants. It was costly to get new servants every 7 years and have to pay for their transportation, clothing, and food.7 These were not the only expenses. Servants who were able to survive fatal disease could expect “freedom dues.” Servants would get a small cash payment at the completion of their contracts and a wider variety of opportunities.8 Paying for all of this affected the masters because it was very expensive. The Company also promised land to servants, which was part of their freedom dues.9 They would be free after the end of their contract and could get a job and have a normal life. This money really helped them out to get a start on their free lives in America, but it was hard for the landowners to stay financially stable. Masters had to eventually come up with a new way to get workers. The Virginia Company of London had to arrange a new system of labor, which was slavery, after they were having financial troubles. One of the reasons why the switch to slave labor occurred is because slaves presented masters with certain advantages, such as not becoming potential competitors in the tobacco market since they served for life. Slave rebellion would

Sharon V. Salinger and Leslie Patrick, “Indentured Servitude,” in Colonization and Settlement, Third Edition, http:// online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=17980&itemid=WE52&articleId=211548. 5 Salinger and Patrick, “Indentured Servitude,” . 6 Brandon, interview by the author, Williamsburg, Virginia, United States, October 24, 2018. 7 Salinger and Smith, “labor in colonial.” 8 David Brion Davis, Slavery in the Colonial Chesapeake (Williamsburg, Va.: Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1986), [Page 5]. 9 Salinger and Patrick, “Indentured Servitude.”

be avoided by a carefully planned legal system.10 Farmers were always nervous that their servants would compete against them in the tobacco market after their contract term ended, so the fact that slaves could not compete or rebel against them was a relief. When indentured servants were the prominent workers, slaves were expensive, but then the cost of slaves decreased and they became more common. Servants were the machines that grew tobacco for Virginia’s first 50 years. For a while, it was more profitable to invest in the short-term service of servants than the costlier slave for life when there were high mortality rates in the 17th century. The death rate was high because the slaves were always dying due to poor conditions, and masters had to get new slaves, which was expensive. When the Royal African Company’s monopoly on the slave trade concluded in 1698 and the death rate decreased, the costs of African slaves declined and masters switched to slaves. The decrease in the death rate also meant that more servants would survive servitude and would get their land.11 A lessened mortality rate also resulted in the investment in slaves becoming more lucrative.12 As economic circumstances and workers’ incomes advanced in England, the supply of servants decreased while the labor demand increased. The expense of slaves diminished as well.13 The working conditions became better in England, which meant that fewer people were coming to America in search of a better job, but the demand for workers increased. At the same time, the costs of slaves significantly decreased, making the landowners switch to slaves. Though the reduction of indentured servants coming from England was a major factor in the switch, money was the biggest cause. When slaves started to become more common, laws had to be made for them. Since slaves served for life, there had to be some type of master inheritance. A slave’s status, or anyone’s for that matter, depended on their mother’s status. Even if the father was free, the children would still be slaves if their mother was enslaved. Slaves were a way to show how wealthy someone was, so slave owners encouraged their slaves to have children because they would become free slaves. The child would be another person to work for them for free.14 This was different from indentured servants having children because indentured servants would take their children with them when their contract term ended. Indentured servants’ owners also had to pay for the child’s expenses. Since slaves are owned for life, their children are enslaved for life, making them extra workers that the owners did not have to pay for. Another reason it made the master happy was because they became wealthier when their slaves had children since slaves were a form of wealth. Another difference was if an enslaved man had a child with a free woman, the child would be indentured

10 11 12 13 14

Salinger and Patrick, “Indentured Servitude.” Salinger and Smith, “labor in colonial.” Salinger and Patrick, “Indentured Servitude.” Salinger and Smith, “labor in colonial.” Jonathan Letham, interview by the author, Williamsburg, Virginia, United States, October 25, 2018.

until they were 30.15 The children would be indentured because their father was a slave. Even though their mother was not a slave and their status depended on their mother, they would have to be indentured because their father was not free. This was unfair: Why should a child with an enslaved father and a free mother have an advantage over a child with an enslaved mother and a free father? This was a flaw in the slave system. Other than inheritance laws, there were also severe punishment laws. Slave laws were very strict, but all owners treated their slaves differently. Slaves were property, and their treatment depended on their owner.16 Some slave owners were harsher than others, some slave owners were crueler than others, and some masters were as ‘kind’ as could be to their slaves, but one thing was for sure: all slaves were considered property. They all had a value next to their name in legal documents, and they all could be bought and sold. There were many slave laws regarding their behavior. If slaves ran away, they would go to jail. In jail, the slaves would be kept in the outside cells, while the free people would be kept in the inside jails.17 The outside jails were colder and there were high chances of getting disease, so the inside cells were kept for free people. While the slaves were in jail, a sign would be put up to see if anyone claimed them. If no one claimed them, they would be auctioned off. If someone claimed them, the slave would be beaten for running away. The most common punishments were being whipped, branded, or death if the master was really cruel.18 As mentioned, masters were very brutal with their slaves. Even though servants and slaves had similar punishments, it was harsher for slaves because servants willingly entered servitude. Slaves did not have a choice; they had to be enslaved. Although many forms of indentured servitude were created to fulfill the needs of landowners, it was economically more feasible to change from the more expensive costs of indentured servants to slaves. With that said, slaves became the more favorable choice due to the decrease of the death rate and the reproduction of slaves, thus creating free slaves. Even though indentured servitude was created to improve economic growth in the short term, it financially challenged masters and landowners in the long run. This being the case, it indicates why a cruel system like slavery was able to exceed a more humane system, such as indentured servitude.

15 16

Letham, interview by the author. Letham, interview by the author.

17 18

Brandon, interview by the author. Brandon, interview by the author.

Michael Cai ‘23

How The Need for Growth Affected Racism in Early America

In 1776, Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence that “all men are created equal [...] they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”1 Despite Jefferson’s words, this was not the case in Colonial or Revolutionary America. Colonial America originally began when English colonists wanted to separate from Britain to escape religious persecution. Because Britain was filled with people of one race and similar beliefs, conflicts arose when English settlers came in contact with Native Americans and Africans. Rather than trying to settle their differences and treating other peoples with respect, English colonists enslaved and abused all who were different from themselves. English colonists were unwilling to empathize with the Native Americans and Africans because they wanted to exploit their labor to expand their settlements and strengthen their economy. When the English first arrived in America, their relationship with the Natives was filled with respect but slowly devolved as time went on. Upon the initial arrival of the English, the Natives viewed them as a way to acquire European weapons to gain leverage over other tribes in territory battles. For example, to obtain guns, which was a resource they lacked that was common in Britain, the Natives helped the English survive a harsh winter by supplying them with food. In return, the English supplied the Natives with European weapons.2 Despite the Natives’ acts of kindness, due to their different lifestyles and appearances, the English viewed them as less civilized. For instance, during the harsh winter, John Smith, the captain of the settlement of Jamestown, wrote, “If it had not pleased God to have put a terror in the Savage’s hearts, we’d have perished by those wild and cruel Pagans, being in that weakest state as we were.”3 By calling them “Savages,” Smith reveals the settlers’ perspective of the Natives: that they were uncivilized and primitive beings. As time went on, an increasing number of English settlers came to America. With more help from new settlers, English colonists became less dependent on Native Americans and consequently became the dominant force.4 In many cases throughout history, being the dominant force would lead to the exploitation of others for personal gain, and due to the colonists’ disrespect towards the Natives, this happened soon after.

National Archives, “Declaration of Independence: A Transcription,” in National Archives (n.p., 2018), https://www.archives. gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript. 2 Rob, “When the Native American Indians First Met the European Settlers,” in Owlcation (HubPages, 2016), last modified June 13, 2016, accessed October 12, 2018, https://owlcation.com/ humanities/When-the-Native-American-Indians-first-met-the-European-Settlers. 3 Rob, “When the Native”. 4 Christopher Boucher, “Native American Conflict with

With the English population growing, expanding, and becoming more independent, the colonists started abusing the Natives to improve their own settlements. Even when the English were dependent on the Natives, John Smith believed that they were only assets that the English could use. Because of this mindset, when negotiations failed and Native tribes did not supply the English with food, Smith forcefully took what he wanted, destroying towns and villages in the process.5 As the colonies grew, the English started enslaving Native Americans as plantation labor. The English believed that the enslavement of Native Americans would help maintain the growth of their economy, which heavily relied on plantations.6 This led to heated conflicts between the Natives and English. For instance, Opechancanough, a tribal chief, was concerned that the English would end up taking everything from the Natives. In turn, he formed a resistance movement and eventually declared war. After the war ended and peace was restored, the English continued to oppress and enslave Native Americans. Many more wars occurred between the two races, but despite this, the English never changed the way they treated the Natives.7 Around 1700, Native slavery started to decline and was eventually banned.8 This was mainly because Native Americans were prone to European illnesses, which made them weak, shortened their lifespans, and therefore reduced their popularity.9 After many years of mistreatment simply for free labor, Native American slavery was abandoned, merely because it was no longer profitable. When Native American enslavement ended, Europeans turned to enslaving and abusing Africans for labor. At first, English colonists became desperate to find a new source of free labor after Native slavery was abandoned. At that time, agriculture was the most beneficial industry of the colonial economy. Tobacco, for example, produced enormous profits. Tobacco and many other southern crops, however, were labor-intensive. This boosted the popularity of enslaving other races, such as Africans, for labor.10 The idea of enslaving Africans was first brought up

European Settlers.,” in Natives and New Encounters, Precontact to 1677(n.p.: Facts on File, 2016), http://online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=17980&itemid=WE52&articleId=381671. 5 “Virginia’s Early Relations with Native Americans,” in Library of Congress, accessed October 11, 2018, https://www.loc.gov/ teachers/classroommaterials/presentationsandactivities/presentations/ timeline/colonial/indians/. 6 Boucher, “Native American”. 7 Boucher, “Native American”. 8 Terri L. Snyder, “Women, Race, and the Law in Early America,” in American History (oxford university press, 2015), last modified September 2015, accessed October 11, 2018, http://americanhistory.oxfordre.com/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199329175.001.0001/ acrefore-9780199329175-e-12. 9 Kristalyn Shefveland, “Indian Enslavement in Virginia,” in Encyclopedia Virginia (Virginia Foundation for the Humanities, 2016) last modified March 2, 2016, accessed October 13, 2018, https://www. encyclopediavirginia.org/Indian_Enslavement_in_Virginia. 10 Jose R. Torre, “Economy in the 18th Century,” in American Centuries, Volume 3 (n.p.: Facts on File, 2014), https://online.infobase. com/HRC/Search/Details/2?articleId=358095&q=how%20did%20

by a Spanish colonist named Bartolomé de Las Casas. When Las Casas saw the destruction that the Natives endured, he persuaded the Spanish King to spare Native American slaves and replace them with African ones.11 Some Africans, like Natives, wanted guns and other European weapons to protect themselves from slave raiders. The English were able to exploit this need, and made African rulers trade their own people for guns. Due to the demand for these weapons, slave trading with the English became increasingly popular in Africa.12 When slaves arrived to America, they were dehumanized by the colonists. For example, English colonists would sell, buy, and do whatever they wanted to enslaved Africans, as if they were property. Furthermore, Thomas Jefferson believed that in order to prevent Africans from gaining the intellect to overthrow the English, they should not be educated.13 The need for free labor gave the English a reason to mistreat another race. In order to maximize efficiency and minimize the amount of money spent, the English made Africans live in inhumane environments. The hardships of African slaves started before they reached America: Africans would first be forced onto a slave boat, which would carry 400 to 700 slaves in order to conserve space. To conserve resources, the English would only give slaves a pint of water and two courses of boiled vegetables every day, which led to dehydration-related deaths.14 Life did not get better when slaves reached America. Mothers of slaves were usually kept working. In turn, their children sometimes died from neglect, sickness, or malnutrition.15 If slaves made any mistake or refused to work, they would be whipped or even dismembered.16 This mistreatment led to many rebellions, one of which caused the South Carolina government to place bounties for the scalps of runaway slaves.17 Moreover, some states banned freed and enslaved Africans from meeting to prevent the freed Africans from helping the enslaved ones escape. To create another obstacle between contact, freed Africans were not allowed in many southern states where most slaves resided.18 Although these actions helped the English save money and maximize efficiency, it was at the expense of many Africans’ lives. When conditions improved for some Africans in the Revolutionary Era, it was only to benefit the colonists. Before the Revolution, the English Colonies were caught up in a war colonists%20expand. 11 Theodore L. Sylvester, Slavery Throughout History, ed. Sonia Benson (n.p.: UXL, 2000), 82. 12 Susan Altman, “Slavery,” in Encyclopedia of African-American Heritage, Second Edition. (n.p.: Facts on File, 2000), http:// online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=17980&itemid=WE52&articleId=158625. 13 Bill Drewry, interview, Colonial Williamsburg, Williamsburg, VA, October 24, 2018. 14 Altman, “Slavery”. 15 Altman, “Slavery”. 16 Drewry, interview. 17 Altman, “Slavery”. 18 Altman, “Slavery”.

with France called the French and Indian War. During the war, Britain spent a lot of money in order to protect its colonies. To recover its expenses, Britain stationed 10,000 British regulars in North America and imposed many taxes on everyday items. This caused the colonies to go to war with Britain to protect their economy.19 Originally, George Washington, the commander-inchief of the Continental Army, would refuse recruiting Africans for the war because it would mean freeing and arming slaves, which was considered to be dangerous. Britain, however, was not only accepting African soldiers but also promising them freedom. After Washington heard of this, he started letting Africans into his army.20 Additionally, because Britain was one of the colonies’ best customers for tobacco, the war caused both the demand for tobacco, and, in turn, the popularity of African slavery to decrease. Thus, Northern and Upper Southern states gradually started setting emancipation statutes.21 Despite this, many racist laws that had no effect on the war were still kept. For instance, only people above the age of 30 were allowed to free slaves, and slaves had to immediately leave the territory once freed.22 Furthermore, the Lower South did not change during the Revolutionary War and kept all of its racist acts.23 Although some states relinquished racist laws during the Revolutionary Era, it was more so as a result of the economy and the war instead of the colonists’ empathy. Blinded by the need to improve their colonies, English settlers abused Native Americans and Africans. When the colonists first arrived to America, they already had a disrespectful perception of Native Americans. Because of this, when the colonists started expanding, they were able to take advantage of the Natives’ dependencies on English trade goods and started enslaving them. However, due to the Natives’ vulnerability to English diseases, Native American slavery no longer remained profitable. Desperate to keep their economy prosperous with free labor, the English started to enslave the African race and made them live in harsh conditions to save money. It was only when the Revolutionary War came that racism became less prominent as a result of the need to win the war and the decreased need for some agricultural products. Although economic growth is an important part of a civilization, the exploitation of others to achieve that goal goes against a more important aspect of civilized society: humanity.

Bruce Tap, “American Revolution, Causes Of.,” in Encyclopedia of American Military History, Vol. 1 (n.p.: Facts on File, 2003), https://online.infobase.com/HRC/Search/Details/2?articleId=209499&q=causes%20of%20the%20revolutionary%20war. 20 Drewry, interview. 21 Ushistory.org, “Revolutionary Changes and Limitations: Slavery,” in U.S. History Online Textbook (2008), last modified 2008, accessed October 17, 2018, http://www.ushistory.org/us/13d.asp. 22 Snyder, “Women, Race”. 23 Ushistory.org, “Revolutionary Changes”.