By teens, for teens
Letter from the Editor
Dear Teen Ink Readers,
Spring is here, and so is a brand new issue of Teen Ink magazine! This month, we're celebrating National Poetry Month with tons of great content, including the winner and honorable mentions of our “A Haiku by You!” contest. Whether you're an aspiring poet or just an admirer, there’s plenty of amazing work for you to enjoy.
We’ve also included a special segment on art in this edition, featuring some incredible pieces from the Teen Ink community. If you’re looking for inspiration or just love seeing what other creative teens are up to, you’re going to love it!
And with Earth Day coming up, we’re shining a spotlight on environmentalism! In these pages, you'll find articles, artwork, and poems focused on the environment and how we can make a difference. We’re also excited to share the winner and honorable mentions of our “Environmental Solutions” contest.
We hope you enjoy this issue just as much as we do! And as always, we’d love to hear from you — whether it’s a letter to the editor, a poem, an opinion piece, or artwork. Head over to teenink.com/submit and send it our way!
Best regards,
The Teen Ink Team
Work Submit
Cover Art Contest
Submit your photo or artwork for a chance to appear on the cover of Teen Ink magazine! All art submissions are eligble.
NATIONAL POETRY MONTH
ARTWORK BY RUIHAN YANG, HONOLULU, HI
The Sun Will Swallow Us Whole
Tapioca seeds and manatees, the wind blows strong beneath the sea and every strand of seaweed brings a cupped hand of desert sand.
On the shore lies a painter’s hook resting on a fisher’s brush, and beneath them the tide swings.
Parakeets and kerosene float in ashes on the breeze, and fall like burning snow to sand that traces patterns of swarming ants.
Wood comes in honeyed scent that combs itself into your hair, and every tree has long been spent, their ghosts of dust pulled into air.
In your palms is a future still, through tired eyes and waves of sleep, washing white water and windmills. The foam has memories to keep, of kerosene and manatees.
BY SONIA ELIZABETH TEODORESCU, TAMPA, FL
If I Were A Tree
If I were a tree, I would weep with roots deep in the soil, Each ring of my age, Ripped away by your hand.
The axe’s bite echoes in the hollow, As my body trembles,
My heart beats heavy in the silence, Beneath skies that no longer care.
You sever my limbs, Rip my soul from the earth, Tear my children from their roots—And call it progress.
My brothers and sisters, The flowers, the oaks, We stand together, A silent chorus of grief.
You do not hear our cries. You drown our voices in your engines, In your machines, As you burn what remains of the earth’s breath.
But do not think we will not rise.
The storms will howl, The fire will rage with vengeance, And the water will drown your cities— A reckoning for what you’ve done.
I stand, rooted in my sorrow, Waiting,
For the day when your silence meets mine, And nature, finally, takes back what is hers.es.
BY JUANNA XIAO, QUEENS, NY
To Be Human.
I see all kinds of people walking by, but none of them show what they truly feel deep inside.
I see people getting where they need to be by car, by bus, by plane, leaving behind those days that made them feel a little less insane.
I see people laughing, smiling, showing their desired perception through a filter, not letting those heavy, ugly emotions that bring vulnerability and shame wither, the bonds and relationships they’d kill to protect, forgetting that with all this effort they begin to selfneglect.
I see people powering through those days that bring burden onto their shoulders, forgetting that it was them that once moved those boulders that led them to the achievements they’ve always wanted, but with all that self-destruction, you’ve now left your house haunted.
I see people putting their own needs behind what others want, leading to you pleasing others, for them to taunt. But when will you begin to please yourself?
To be human isn’t to be perfect or free from all flaws, it's to accept who you are now, regardless of the cracks or the verbal applause.
I see you now, acknowledging the voice inside that you’ve continued to ignore, let it out of the cage you’ve created, allow it to love you like you have never before.
BY MAHA RASHID, TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA
What If I Fall?
The first step is always the scariest. Flat ground, rocky gravel, or the wetness of mud, Each surface whispers the same question: “Are you ready for this?”
Maybe it’s the weight of what you’ll carry, The time you’ll pour into something unknown, The room in your heart you’re afraid to test.
You glance back once, and the past calls out— Old anxieties bubbling like a familiar song. The ground feels heavier, pulling you down, And the past tugs harder, asking, “Do you really want to try?”
Time feels slippery, seconds fleeing Like grains of sand in an hourglass.The silence stretches endlessly.
But the wait is normal, The pause necessary— Every thought aligns itself, Mapping roads you could take.
Now comes the choice. Hesitate, and fear holds you still.
Act, and fear follows close behind. But which fear will you let guide you?
The answer is simple: Each choice is its own kind of right. In a world without guarantees, Every step brings an answer, Even if it’s not the one you expect.
Place your trust in movement. Start from scratch, and start again.
“What if I fall?”
But Darling, what if you fly? Doesn’t the world look brighter When you’ve taken the first step?
BY VANNA XIAO, CHINO, CA
Oranges
I am the oranges we split on my front porch Sharp citrus juices dribbling down our chins and Cooling sun-pinkened shoulders
I am the dolls we clutched With sticky child fingers The fort we assembled in the woods Behind my home
Broken bike chains Butterfly nets Sunrise to set companionship
I am a photo album Of forgotten faces But never memories
I am forever Nine years old Peeling my oranges
BY ANONYMOUS
Roller Blades
As my blades bend the symmetry of the Earth’s floor, my mind coasts into a state of harmony.
I see flamboyant color, as if looking through a kaleidoscope. Effervescent aroma envelops my beak, as if flowers had just bloomed. And I hear birds tweet with bravado, as if I had never listened before.
The blades are to my psyche as soil is to bare feet.
BY ZOE CALDWELL, RANCHO SANTA FE, CA
The Lake Underneath Us
We float with no earth beneath our feet.
Below, mounds of sand lay dormant
Until a small fish brushes the top.
Allowing the sediment to rise, glistening like stars Against the depth of the murky lake.
A wooden dock made up of the finest trees, Stabilizes our bodies above the sunkissed waters,
Swirling around our ankles like mixed paint, Begging us to join in on the dance.
The once seemingly lifeless water
Causes the wood to ache and our bodies to sway Against broken and chopping waves. Forcing a touch our hands would not allow.
Our eyes meet, yours as soft as oak wood,
And as deep and bright as the water that connects us.
You stare back at me and your presence feels like the sun on my skin.
I only hope you feel the same sun-like burn as I do
Like shimmering gold being poured into my chest.
BY KIERA FALLON, AYER, MA
Puppet
Little ballet dancers
On puppet strings
Give me my answers
Give me my wings
We tiptoe around
Washed in blue light
I'll run this place aground
I'll put up a fight
I don't have to make a sound
If I want to take flight
Cut the atrocious strings
Feel how you can move
Like a wound up spring
When there's nothing to prove
Little ballet dancers
On puppet strings
Give me my answers
Give me my wings?
BY ZOE DARBY, SACRAMENTO, CA
Self Portrait
Impressions of hue and light being formed
Brush blending paints, almost creating
A likeness or figure with color adorned
Brush blending paints, paint on the canvas,
The tints create feelings, both cold and warmCoat upon coat, the form shifts and bends
The strokes grow ornate, figure created
Stroke upon stroke, the painting brush blends
Developing fast, the form keeps growing
A creature born through layered hopes
Old colors leaving, new hues showing
The brush leads the paint as it travels and roams
The creature, it grows, and grows, and grows
More detailed as time continues
I, on the canvas, am being created
My actions: the brush that my life holds and leads
My aliveness is made, whether heedless or fated I grow on the canvas, and the paintbrush forms me
And having begun from a thousand abstractions
Events layered together to create who I’ve been Stroke after brushstroke, I’ll never be finished
As my form shifts and changes
And the painting brush blends
BY CAITLIN SCHROCK, SHIRLEY, MA
Inseparable Memories
Soon we know strangers will move into this
House we’ve claimed as our own;
We make promises to each other: I’ll never love them as much as I loved you
I’ll never allow them in our secret fort made in the woods
We used to wake up and knock on eachothers door
Pedaling bubblegum pink bikes up and down the road
As the vibrant sunset splashed among the sky
Taking hour long walks around the neighborhood
Although miles are what’s keeping us apart Memories of us are still in my heart
Our last laugh replays in my mind forever
Leaving all of the sadness and sorrow behind
Perhaps one day our paths will cross again
I’ll glimpse you in a car passing by; or in the local Starbucks
It’ll feel like the olden days, Filled with laughter and hugs
But until then you remain in my mind forever BY ANONYMOUS
Nothing Less Than a Star
For so long, I had been nothing less than a star. Ever since birth, I had that sheen. My naive mind, it thought that I could travel so far. I had the brightest luminescence that had ever been seen.
Never would I have expected that I would get knocked out of orbit, and my light diluted.
The moment I entered high school, I involuntarily signed up for a race. I was thrown out of bounds.
I felt like a huge fool, lost like a stray rogue planet in outer space, waiting to be picked up and found.
Why do I have to do this?
It doesn’t matter, because my once bright future had already been ruined.
Over time, my starlight dimmed. It was as if an eclipsing moon had obscured everything.
Who knew my mentality was a paper to be easily ripped.
Now I feel like I can’t do anything.
I had been deluded by brightness, thinking I could do so much.
Now I am being consumed by darkness, trying to find anything that could come in clutch to save my dying future from the hands of any danger that will kill my mother.
The school would never understand, my family will never understand, the adults in my life won’t ever understand that I’m not as perfect as I thought I was.
The night sky changes with each passing season.
Once, I thought I was nothing less than a star, twinkling with utmost brilliance up high. When in actuality, I am nothing like a star that shines brilliantly in the night.
I’m only human.
BY R.J. LUNETTE CRESSIDA, WOODLAND HILLS, CA
Above My Computer Screen
As the door opens and closes
So does the feeling in my heart
Why do I have to live this somber reality
One in which no one takes part
I look above my computer screen
Feeling tired, wilted, almost green
After hours of work on end
My dreary eyes have met their end
Yet, as I look up I see
A man, a women
So young, so fresh,
A joy for tired eyes which plea I watch them as if I'm watching a play
He puts his hand over her
She leans on him
His shoulder is where she lay
I do not know these people
Yet, an animosity grows in my chest
Animosity for their feelings
Animosity for their warmth
Animosity for this beautiful display
In which I am merely a guest
My eyes cannot bear
The feeling of hatred and jealousy
As if it were an affair
So I lay my coldness a rest
And return to my jaded computer
For my computer is where I can do what I do best
BY ANISHA NAYAR, PLANO, TX
Fragments of Freedom
Trapped inside a broken glass, I see the world, but none can pass. Shattered fragments, sharp and cold, Echo tales of dreams once bold.
Each shard reflects a fleeting past, A moment lost, yet made to last. I stretch my hand, I beg, I plead, But broken walls won't grant my need.
The silence roars, the shadows bend, A prison with no means to end. I grasp the edges, cracked and worn, A fragile heart, so bruised, so torn.
Yet in the glass, a light does gleam, A distant hope, a fading dream.
For though I'm trapped and held in place, I’ll find my strength, I’ll find my grace.
In shattered pieces, I will rise, Through brokenness, I'll claim the skies. For even glass, though cracked and torn, Can hold the dawn of light reborn.
BY OLIVIA RUONAVAARA, WOODLAND, WA
She
She is yellow like the sun, because of the warmth she brings,
Like a sunset on the sea right before it reaches its peak.
When you search where the ocean meets the land, She is the majestic mermaid on the sandy beach.
Burning brighter than the lights up on Christmas Eve, She illuminates the sky, the shine in the dark when you can’t see.
Filling you up with warmth and comfort, Like the moment when your skin and a sweatshirt meet.
As calming as a midnight swim in water
And as serene as the light coming from the moon, Her presence is what keeps you hooked over and over, Luring you in like a siren singing her melody.
Admiration couldn’t describe the trance-like state you’re in.
Neither could addiction be used to explain the painful withdrawal you’ll feel,
But there is something so bittersweet about this feeling.
Something you’re scared to lose, but fear to never get enough of.
BY ANONYMOUS
The Eclipse
She was my best friend, a person to call my own
Memorable sleepovers — yearning for
How our futures would turn out, staying up until we heard —
The rooster's loud crow, we shared clothes,
Where the cloth was always so smooth and shallow
It felt our souls were joined as one, connecting us.
Now it feels coarse and rigid, my soul is shattered. Her´s was not affected at all, deception at its finest
The warmth and comfort of her hugs fueled the sorrow of my cries
The blinding feeling of our friendship, did it mean nothing? —
Am I just as disposable as her past friends? Was everything a lie?
I thought she cared more, I thought I was different.
She was like the moon, I was the sun
So beautiful to each their own, never—
Meant to be seen together, never meant to overlap
Each other, and when they finally did, it was blinding
BY NI'JAYLA JOHNSON, GREENVILLE, SC
The Muse
Just like an artist with their muse,
A poet has someone whom they lose.
A person who changed the poet’s heart, Turned their writing into a form of art.
A love so broken that they have to write,
A love so broken after a fight.
She clings on tight so as not to fall, Waiting longer for that dreaded call.
The days pass by, like a flash,
Until suddenly there comes a crash.
All good things have an end.
A parent, sibling, or even a friend.
This time is different, though, the little girl says. Putting on her black dress.
That dreaded call that took her muse, Tells her that she has to choose.
A choice to stay quiet when rage is all she feels,
A choice to stay quiet as sadness heals.
Just like an artist with their muse, Everyone has someone they lose.
BY HADLEY COFFEY, CHARLOTTE COURT HOUSE, VA
A Part of Me
She is a part of me—
The day I met her
And the day I left her, They were different.
She smiled and laughed when we all met,
She spoke to me with such energy and care
I truly thought she loved us all with care.
Throughout the years we fell apart, Only to meet again with broken hearts—
She loved and loved, only to meet walls,
I loved and loved, only to see her walls.
They weren’t the same walls that she had met,
Her walls felt soft and cool, as if we were meant—
I liked sitting by her soft and cool wall.
She kept a window open just for me, Where I could talk to her and be vulnerable,
But she was hardly ever vulnerable with me.
I waited for years and years to be let past her wall again,
But once I left and came back, she teased me again and again—
I don’t think it was on purpose, at least I hope it wasn’t,
My heart was breaking, but she wasn’t even cracking.
She let me stand at her window, reaching in as far as I could,
But during that, she was letting others walk past her wall,
I stopped reaching in, knowing I wasn’t who she wanted anymore.
The day I met her, I loved her as a friend—
The day I left her, I loved her more than myself—
But I knew I couldn’t keep waiting no more.
She’s still the love of my life,
I’ve made her a part of me,
But I am not a part of her—
I’ve left her, but I still love her..
BY YAMA CASTILLO, GREENVILLE, SC
In Defense of Pandora
Oh, wonderful girl of ichor and clay
Daughter of angry gods and holy ground
Curious wanderings led her astray
The queen of all evils, she bears her crown
Her hands on the lid of a jar of sin,
Mind begging for a tiny peek inside
To open the cap with the slightest spin
Pandora tried to resist it, she tried
But she opened the lid, set forth a wave
Of disease and death, of sorrow and hate
The killer of a world she could not save
It was just a peek, but it sealed our fate
But blaming her makes me a hypocrite
Lurking behind closed doors, I watch and spy
I've felt her need to know, I ache with it
The lid beneath my palm begs me to pry
Me and my twin, the girl of dirt and star
Eternally doomed to open the jar
BY THEO SLUSSER, WILMINGTON, DE
poetry contest: A Haiku By You!
Snow melts into streams, whispers dance on gentle winds, spring wakes with a sigh.
WHISPERS OF SPRING
BY ALICE DING, LOS ANGELES, CA
Staring up at stars. Counting them, each one unique. Just like humans are.
STARRY NIGHT
BY ALINA JIANG, FREDERICKSBURG, VA
Under the brown soil, With finally resting eyes You lay on cold wood.
UNDER BY ANYSSA BAYAT, PARIS, FRANCE
Forecast calls for snow. Students hope for school to close –Spoons under pillows.
NOW DAY SUPERSTITIONS BY JASON LIN, CLOSTER, NJ
The moon, she hears all She listens to her children and keeps their secrets
MOON BY LAYLA SPINNEY,
PEACHTREE CITY, GA
oceans rise and fall, pulling footprints from the shore; time unweaves its thread.
WAVES BY ASTRAEA LIU, SAN DIEGO, CA
A familiar trail Greets me with a gentle breeze
My heart feels complete
FAMILIAR TRAIL
BY SARAH BRANHAM, ARLINGTON, VA
You race through my thoughts, Time slows, each second is sweet, Moments stretch for miles.
SPECIAL RELATIVITY BY SEAN YANG, SYOSSET, NY
With death comes a time
That all is still and silent: When all that is, rests.
WINTER BY
HARALD KEIJSER, VOORBURG, NETHERLANDS
Lanterns kiss the stars, whispers thread the silent night, I rise, endless flame..
LANTERNS ASCEND BY
ELA M., SURREY, COLOMBIA
BIOLITE: POWERFUL INNOVATIONS FOR CHANGING LIVES
ARTICLE BY CHLOE PARK, IRVINE, CA
ARTWORK BY ANONYMOUS
Social impact is defined as the effect that policies, businesses, or projects may have on the community and society itself. Whether this effect is positive or negative will have an impact on the dynamic of a community and those that live in it. Therefore, it is crucial that businesses find a prominent issue in their community to address and resolve in order to contribute and make a difference in the world. This article will explore one example of a social impact business that provides energy for rural communities: BioLite.
BioLite is a for-profit organization that sells products to households in rural areas. The thing that makes the company unique, however, is that they utilize the energy around them to power their products, which range from stoves, power stations, to lights. Founded by co-founders Jonathan Cedar - the current CEO of BioLite - and Alexander Drummond in 2006, the two met in NYC while working at the design consultancy Smart Design. They created BioLite out of interest for powering stoves with biomass, and officially launched their first product in 2012.
IT IS CRUCIAL THAT BUSINESSES FIND A PROMINENT ISSUE IN THEIR COMMUNITY TO ADDRESS AND RESOLVE IN ORDER TO CONTRIBUTE AND MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD
Now, let's take a moment to appreciate the achievements of BioLite on the improvement and betterment of off-grid communities. Foremost, they have been successful in addressing energy poverty in rural areas, as seen in a recent report from 2023, where more than 2 million people now have access
to clean energy. Additionally, since BioLite uses clean burning wood and charcoal stoves, they have significantly limited our carbon emissions. In fact, since their launch, BioLite has offset over 2.2 million tons of CO₂, which would have otherwise increased the rate of climate change and the deterioration of our planet. Last but not least, for people who live below the minimum income threshold, saving money is a big concern when trying to access electricity. Customers who use BioLite products save money since they don't need to pay for fuel or energy, with a reported average of $173 saved annually.
Besides the ways in which BioLite contributes continuously to our changing climate, this company also gives back to the community, caring for the health and well being of those around them. Studies from the WHO (World Health Organization) reveal that there are over 4 million deaths caused by lung cancer and heart disease as a result from cooking on open fires. BioLite has tried to tackle this problem by selling inexpensive stoves to customers in countries such as Ghana, Uganda, and India, and still continues to work tirelessly to provide better lives to people in underdeveloped countries.
BioLite is continuously working to provide clean energy to 20 million people as well as to offset over 3 million tons of CO₂ by next year, combating the fast occurring changes of global warming. By providing people with safe energy and eco-friendly options, BioLite shows an unwavering commitment to improving the living conditions of countless individuals worldwide. As more businesses learn and follow in BioLite's footsteps, our standards of living can continue to rise globally and our planet will become a cleaner place to live in.
Microscopic Issue, Major Problem
ARTICLE BY JAMES LEE, IRVINE, CA
ARTWORK BY LINDA WANG, SUNNYVALE, CA
Once something is woven into the fabric of society, it’s not easy to remove. This has proven to be the case with plastics. In the 1800s, plastics were designed to offer a new option for goods and packaging (1). What was once revolutionary, though, has become more troublesome than anyone could’ve predicted. The inhalation of microplastics has become commonplace for many people due to the large number of companies that opt to use the material. While science has developed enough to understand that plastics cause major harm on a biological level, many people in society have yet to adjust their lifestyles because of how common plastic use is, and the harm done to the body can’t be seen on the exterior.
UN Environment Programme states that in the early 2000s, the amount of plastic waste we generated rose more in a single decade than in the previous 40 years (2). In 2023 alone, around 400 million tonnes of plastic waste was produced, mainly in the form of plastic bags and plastic bottles(2). Plastic bags and bottles used daily break down until they are extremely small, travel through the wind, and eventually end up worldwide. One liter of plastic water bottle can have an average of 325 plastic particles. Not only that, microplastics can be produced from products that people least suspect. From electronic devices to even clothing, all produce microplastics. These microplastics have been found all the way from Antarctica to the top of Mount Everest (3).
According to a PubMed article, humans are often exposed to microplastics through inhalation, direct contact, and direct ingestion (4). Once in the bloodstream, microplastics can circulate throughout the body, reaching various organs and tissues. The particles will reach and react with different cells and tissues. For example, the microplastics can reach the main artery. One research found that those who had microplastics were 4.5 times more likely to experience a heart attack, a stroke, or death than those whose arteries were plastic-free (5). The same article points out that, on average, participants who had more microplastics in their plaque samples also had higher levels of biomarkers for inflammation (5). These instances are already hinting at the significance of microplastics to our health. Things even get more complicated with the findings of “nano-plastics,” which are one thousand times smaller than micro-plastics. These are even harder to detect in our bodies and will be able to penetrate through so many layers of protection in our cells. This may lead to more severe and incurable diseases.
Despite the alarming statistics and mounting evidence of the effects of microplastics on our health, public awareness has been relatively low. This is due to the normalized presence of plastics in our daily lives, along with no visible consequences. Additionally, the whole world is so lenient with plastics, so moving away from them will impact the economy and the simplicity of many people’s daily lives. Many companies will try to avoid these issues because the use of plastics benefits them by a large margin. Even the CDC and FDA haven’t released enough warnings and problems around this topic. It may have to do with the amount of money people spend on curing illnesses caused by microplastics. Not much can be done about this other than individuals staying away from as much plastic as possible. Plastics once seemed to improve our lives, and now we should conclude that it never did in the first place.
Imagine this: You’ve got all the power, money, and resources in the world to save the planet. What would you accomplish first, and how would you do it?
The Day We Built a Shield for Earth essay contest: environmental solutions
ARTICLE BY LILY LI, HONG KONG, CHINA
If I had all the money, power, and resources in the world to save the planet, I wouldn’t start on Earth. I’d begin in space.
The climate crisis has become an accelerating emergency. Even if we stopped burning fossil fuels tomorrow, the Earth would continue to warm due to the greenhouse gases already trapped in our atmosphere. The damage we’ve done isn't just a future threat—it’s already unfolding. Remember the LA wildfires just two months ago, or the melting ice sheet in Greenland? It’s clear that we need more than just long-term strategies. We need global-scale solutions that can give us the time to transition, rebuild, and restore.
That’s why, if given the opportunity, I would build a solar shield of giant space bubbles to gently reduce the amount of sunlight reaching Earth—just enough to cool the planet slightly while we get our emissions under control. This would not replace the hard work of cutting carbon, reforesting the land, and transforming
our economies. It would simply give us breathing room. A pause button on planetary overheating.
The idea is to place a large raft made of ultra-light, transparent “bubbles” in space, precisely positioned between the Earth and the Sun. There’s a special point in space called Lagrange Point 1, where the gravitational forces of the Earth and the Sun balance out perfectly. Objects placed there can stay in a relatively stable position without needing a lot of fuel to hold their spot. That’s where the shield would go—like a giant parasol floating in space, blocking or reflecting a small, carefully measured portion of sunlight before it ever reaches us.
This may sound like science fiction, but it’s rooted in real science. The bubbles themselves wouldn’t be ordinary soap bubbles, of course. They would be engineered from ultra-thin, durable films—perhaps made from silicon-based polymers or other advanced materials—that can withstand the vacuum of space, intense solar radiation, and micrometeoroid impacts.
The idea would be to produce these bubbles in space itself, rather than launching them all from Earth, to reduce both cost and environmental impact.
Here’s how I would build it.
First, I would invest in developing orbital manufacturing technologies—factories in space capable of producing the materials needed to create the bubbles. These factories could be supplied by raw materials mined from asteroids or even the Moon. By sourcing materials from space, we avoid the enormous energy cost and emissions of launching heavy materials from Earth’s surface. In the early stages, small test units could still be sent from Earth to prove the concept and refine the technology.
Next, I would design a robotic assembly system that could autonomously inflate and position the bubbles in formation. These wouldn’t be single large bubbles but rather a vast array of smaller ones, forming a modular, flexible shield. Each unit could be individually controlled, rotated, or repositioned to fine-tune the amount of solar radiation being blocked. This gives us precise control—enough to prevent unintended cooling or disruption to ecosystems.
The bubbles could be made from thin layers of transparent material with reflective coatings, or even contain tiny amounts of gas to give them structure and adjust their optical properties. By carefully engineering their size, transparency, and position, we could make sure they reduce solar energy by only about 1–2%. That’s all it would take to stabilize global temperatures and prevent the worst-case scenarios of climate tipping points.
The entire system would be powered by solar energy. Solar panels integrated into the orbital infrastructure could power the robotics, positioning thrusters, and communication systems. Since the shield operates in space, there’s no interference with Earth’s atmosphere, no pollution, and no disruption to weather patterns. And most importantly, it’s reversible. If something goes wrong, the bubbles can be moved, deflated, or allowed to drift away. That makes it one of the safest large-scale geoengineering options ever proposed.
Of course, this wouldn’t be a one-nation project. It would need to be a global collaboration—an international effort of scientists, engineers, ethicists, and governments working together to protect the planet. Transparency would be essential. Everyone would need to understand how it works, what it’s doing, and how we ensure it doesn’t cause harm. This kind of collaboration would also set the stage for future planetary-scale environmental action.
I would begin with small-scale prototypes—just a few bubbles in space to test how they behave, how they
tolerate radiation and micrometeoroids, and how effectively they can be maneuvered. Satellites would monitor how much sunlight they block and their precise effect on Earth’s climate. Over time, the system could be scaled up gradually, with constant feedback and adjustment. This approach avoids the risks of a sudden, massive deployment and allows the project to evolve with the best available science.
And while the shield is deployed, we’d use the time it buys us to double down on real planetary healing. That means ending fossil fuel use, scaling up renewable energy, restoring forests and wetlands, and building circular economies that waste nothing. The shield would not be an excuse to delay action—it would be a tool to make that action possible without crossing dangerous climate thresholds.
WITH UNLIMITED RESOURCES, I WOULDN’T JUST BUILD A SUNSHIELD — I’D BUILD A MOVEMENT
What excites me most about this plan is not just the technology, but what it symbolizes. A project like this challenges us to think beyond our national borders, beyond short-term politics, and even beyond the planet itself. It asks us to see Earth as it truly is: a fragile blue marble in space, worthy of protection, and capable of inspiring the greatest acts of creativity and cooperation our species has ever attempted.
With unlimited resources, I wouldn’t just build a sunshield — I’d build a movement. I’d create new jobs, new industries, and a new sense of shared purpose. I’d use the awe and imagination of space to reawaken our love for the Earth. I’d teach children not just about climate change, but about planetary care and the power of human creativity.
And maybe, just maybe, I’d help spark a new mindset—one that doesn't see the climate crisis as a hopeless countdown, but as a defining moment where we chose to do something extraordinary.
So if I had all the power and money in the world, I’d start by building a shield of space bubbles. Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s perfect. But because it might just give us the time we need to rise to the challenge—and save the only home we’ve ever known.
The Box Idea
ARTICLE BY GABRIELLE KARP, NEW YORK, NY
The issue with our current waste system is the sizing, both in the size of landfills and in the comparison in size between “trash”, recycling, and compost. Channeling some of the things we throw into the garbage into recycling is a goal of many “environmentalists” (“environmentalists” is in quotes to illustrate that “environmentalist“ is not the right term for a trash-producing human).
In my classroom at school there is a section of floor that I call the wall of waste. It starts with a large trash bin. Many days, the whole thing gets filled. Next to the trash and about half the size is the recycling bin. After that is a small round compost bin that gets emptied by the environmental club once a week.
What can we do about it? The difficulty with “environmentalism” is that knowing what is bad about trash isn’t going to make most people change
their minds and behavioral patterns. This is why we need systematic change.
My suggestion for an alternative waste system is called “boxes”. I named it “boxes” after the collection mechanism — the current collection mechanism being trash bins. A “box” (in this context) is a tall column of small drawers. Each drawer would be labeled with a type of waste (i.e. plastic recycling, broken pencils and pens, pencil shavings, and a smell-proof drawer for compost.). Sorting waste more effectively would take a step out of the recycling process and make reusing that material easier.
This would be a good first step toward going wastefree because knowing what you are throwing away is essential to eliminating products that produce that waste. Another potential end goal is that with reduced waste, some land currently going toward landfills could become solar and wind farms.
KNOWING
WHAT
IS
BAD ABOUT TRASH
ISN’T GOING TO MAKE MOST PEOPLE CHANGE THEIR MINDS AND
BEHAVIORAL PATTERNS
One potential environmental issue with the “boxes” method is that we don’t want everyone to throw away their trash bins and replace them with “boxes”. A smoother transition to “boxes” could involve banning the purchase of new trash bins, instead forcing people to replace their broken ones with “boxes”. During the period of time where some people were using “boxes” and others were using a normal trash system, the infrastructure to deal with each type of waste would be being built. Basic scientific studies would be done to figure out how to deal with specific types of waste (i.e. how to recycle pencil shavings).
The “box” itself does not make any environmental impact, it’s more about what it symbolizes: cautious waste management.
and I'm sorry to the birds
POEM BY MELODY BERON, NEW CITY, NY
And I’m sorry to the birds
The gentle creatures under god who swoop down, clip the water and clean themselves pure, Pure are their bodies who have never done wrong, but we tar the feathers that sing a sweet song. The rising climate’s hand who snaps through the sky, and altered the direction in which birds could fly, and
I'm sorry to the fish who school just like me, clumping-together in blessed sanctity For we have taken your church and turned it bright red, and heat ‘til you swim, swim ‘til you're dead. But
I’m sorry for the trees who sway like a prayer. The ones who so graciously lend us our air, well the tree standing tall might seem strong just like us,
But even the strongest will crumble to dust.
I’m sorry young girl who looks much like me, who never understood why we don't save the trees, or the fish, or the birds, or the doe or the pigs. So you will tell her what the problem is.
Tell her you wanted to drive a cool car, or tell her you needed to cruise like a star.
Tell her you needed the new brand new iphone, or tell her you had to build up your old home.
Or please dear god tell her nothing at all,
but present your rough hand and make her stand tall.
I’m sorry to the world whose smile begins to fade, cause she’s battered and bruised, until a new day is made.
A special segment for the
ARTISTS OF TEEN INK
CREDITS
1. PICTURESQUE BY YUANQI GAO, DUINO, ITALY
2. LOW-HANGING SUNFLOWER BY ANONYMOUS
3. WANDERING BROOK BY XIANXU LUO, WUHAN, CHINA
4. OBSERVING THE WORLD THROUGH THE EYE OF NATURE BY ANONYMOUS
CREDITS
1. THRIVING IN HARMONY BY ISABELLA LIU, HONOLULU, HI
2. INTERGENERATIONAL BY CASSANDRA NGUYEN, MARKHAM, ONTARIO, CANADA
3. CAT'S CRADDLE BY MIRANDA CHEN, PLANO, TX
4. GRANDMA'S LEGACY BY OLIVIA ENGSTROM, NEW YORK, NY
5. BLOOMING BY SOPHIA THURMAN, THOUSAND OAKS, CA
CREDITS
1. MUTUALISM BY YUANQI GAO, DUINO, ITALY
2. SILENT SUFFERING BY ANONYMOUS
3. SEE ME BY MAIDA LIU, SAN BRUNO, CA
4. THE EYE OF AWARENESS BY CECELIA EMBLETON, SKILLMAN, NJ
5. MACROPLASTICITY BY RYLIE GARDINER, DECATUR, GA
CREDITS
5.
1. THE SOUL BY LYDIA VAZ, SAN JOSE, CA
2. THE SUNSET BY RYAN KIM, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA
3. THE GOD OF THE WOODS BY XINJIE ZHU, FLORIDA, USA
4. SERENITY BY EUNSEO KIM, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA
MISFIT BY LUCAS CHUNG, NEW YORK, NY
CONTRIBUTORS
THANK YOU!
National Poetry Month
Alyssa Babe, 6
Jingyi Li, 9
Zaria Waseem, 10
Environmentalism
Suzannah Keiser, 12
Katie Anne Gannon, 14
Xavier Muth, 16
Art - Special Segment
Emily Dicks, 25
Jennifer Vaughn, 28
Contest Results
Ann Zohar Hershkovitz, 38
Anwen Zhu, 39
Christopher Trinh, 39
Luci Meigel, 40
Adrika Mondal, 41
Additional Artwork
Kenzie Low, Front Cover
Danika Killpack, 6
Maya McQueeney, 8
Elise Tamanaha, 10
Ellie Brubaker, 11
Grace Gavagan, 11
Malia Chen, 11
Sundhya Ravindran, 12
Sophia Ma, 14
Elise Tamanaha, 16
Aman Dhillon, 19
Leah Albaugh, 25
Yue Pan, 27
Kimberley Fan, 28
Anonymous, 30
Kelly Lu, 32
Katelyn Roberts, 34
Hongcheng Du, 37
Caleigh Weintraub, 37
Quincy Lloyd, 42
Karrah Heather Thomas, 43
Makayla Raphael, 44
Caitlyn Gillman, 45
Annabelle Simboli, 46
Caitlyn Kim, 46
Elise Tamanaha, Back Cover
Editorial Staff
Managing Editor: Kylie Andrews
BY ELLIE BRUBAKER, HOUGHTON, NY
ARTWORK