It was a cold winter day when I saw her. The snow was melting after last week’s heavy snowfall leaving the streets a glittering shade of black. There were hardly any cars on the icy wet streets that day. The houses along the street were so quiet I could almost hear the soft swaying of the trees. My sister, Samira, and I were looking out the window of our room on the tenth floor of our apartment building, as we often do, observing the scene on the street. We have a lovely view of Rock Creek Park and when it isn’t foggy or cloudy, we can see the National Cathedral in the distance. Ever since I was little, perched on this window sill, I had been thinking about the lives of people I saw on the street. Since COVID-19, the window had been my connection to the world. I had spent many hours seeing the world through my window. I traced my fingers along familiar scenes on the glass window—the long black road that looked like it could go on forever, the small houses along the road, the grassy patch where the streets intersected at the roundabout. I often saw people walking their dogs by this grassy patch. But something looked different today. I squinted my eyes to take a closer look. Right then, I spotted a jet black puppy with a striking red collar on that grassy patch right by the sidewalk on Eastern Avenue. I saw no owner around. “Samira, look! Do you see that puppy over there?” I exclaimed as I pointed toward the grassy patch. Samira turned her head and her eyes grew wide. It was a tiny little thing. We watched it walk around in circles for a while. We thought it looked lost. Samira and I started getting hopeful. We looked at each other and, without saying a word, we each knew what the other was thinking. Could it be that that was the puppy we were destined to have? What an incredible chance! It was like waking up from a happy dream and realizing everything you dreamt of is true already. Immediately, Samira went to go tell Mama and Baba, while I continued to observe the puppy, secretly hoping no one would show up. I watched the puppy walk around slowly sniffing the grass. It looked like it was looking for someone who wasn’t there. “Hey, little puppy, I will be here for you, okay?” I said softly, imagining that she could hear my voice. Soon my parents came into the room and peered out of the window. We watched their eyes dart towards the grassy patch. Samira and I looked at each other. It was time to implement “Operation Beg for a Puppy.” My parents were skeptical. A stray puppy with a collar did not seem possible to them. They thought someone would surely be around and we just couldn’t see them. They made us wait a little bit before going down to check on the puppy. Now, the whole family was looking out of the window in excitement and anticipation. At least two out of the four members of the family were so restless, we couldn’t keep still. You know which two. In just a few minutes, I imagined how my life would change with this puppy. I was holding her in my arms, looking into her chocolate brown eyes. I imagined her looking at me as she wagged her tail and smiled. I imagined coming back from school and having someone to always be there to greet me. Sure I had Samira, but a puppy doesn’t talk, complain, whine, screech, yell, or cry as much. I forced myself to stop daydreaming and keep concentrating on the puppy, making sure it was safe. While we were waiting, we saw a man come out of a parked car by the sidewalk with a leash who seemed to be calling the puppy. He attached the leash to the collar and carried it back into the car. Noooooooooo!!!!! The dream had ended. All our hopes shattered like a broken chandelier on a ballroom floor! There went our chance to adopt a puppy. We thought that person was the owner and they were probably going a long way and the puppy needed a little break. I guess we would never know.
Schooling in the Midst of a Global Pandemic: Thoughts of an 11-Year-Old
“Returning to school is a privilege.” These were the first words I remember hearing when I stepped into the school building this August after more than a year of online school. Like millions of children and adolescents around the country, my sister and I returned to in person school this fall. With the delta variant of the coronavirus surging, especially among the unvaccinated, and many kids in my school still not eligible for the vaccine, I am confused about how these decisions make sense. Perhaps we are being told that returning to school is a privilege to make us feel grateful for the opportunity to learn in school again. However, returning to school is not a privilege. It is a right and it is the law of the land. What if me, my sister, or my friends get COVID? Will children be okay and get better? What if there is an outbreak? Will we go back to online school again? How will it all work out? How are we being sent back to school without having a proper plan? Every now and then kids have colds and coughs, especially during the fall and winter seasons. Will they need to be away from school? How will the constant disruption affect our education? My teachers do not seem to have satisfying answers to these questions. This makes me even more disturbed and anxious than I already am. To be fair, my teachers probably agree with my sentiments and may not have had much say in these decisions. My feelings of anxiousness are mixed with curious observations of my classmates’ behaviors. Adults are always saying that “kids need to socialize.” It seems to me that most kids are not interested in socializing when they have the opportunity to do so. Most kids are glued to their phones or Chromebooks at lunchtime when they are sitting right next to each other. Even during class, I see my classmates distracted with video games or checking their phones under the table. There is scarcely any socializing. Being one of the few 6th graders who does not have a phone and has no interest in having one, I am dismayed. My friends are missing their childhood and adolescence. I wonder what their memories of middle school will be when they grow up and grow old. Will they remember losing their tooth and getting excited about it and sharing it with others? Will they remember their friends’ laughter and smiles? Will they remember long conversations and walks around the school grounds? There is so much to life beyond these screens. I hope I am never so absorbed in these screens that I forget to see the life around me. Despite my anxiousness, anger, and dismay, I am very fortunate to have friends who think like me. We take walks around the school’s outdoor garden and have lunch in the midst of blooming flowers. We observe the squirrels, spiders, and butterflies. We observe other students and the strange racial, ethnic, and gender segregation in middle school. We are glad not to feel as if we have to be in this box or that category. We get to know more about each other with each passing day, check each other’s homework, and discuss all of our ideas for after school clubs. So much seems possible! Even though everything seems messed up and uncertain, I am thankful for the opportunity to meet new people in 6th grade, make new friends, and have the chance to talk to old friends as well. My mom says I look happier now that I have returned to school. I have so much to report each afternoon, which contrasts with the severely limited experiences in online school. My mom is delighted to hear my stories. I didn’t even see my classmates’ faces on zoom because so many kept their cameras off. Now, of course, half our faces are covered with our masks. I have forgotten some of my friends’ faces. Still, I think I am happier, too. I think it is because I have something more than the four walls of my room and a screen to experience. I am stunned to think about how limited my world has been for the past year and a half. As the pandemic goes on relentlessly, I hear platitudes like “…everything will be ok…. we are resilient…. we will stop COVID from spreading in the school….we should hold on to hope…” My heart wants to believe that everything will be okay, but my mind resists. For now, I stop myself from thinking about the future and dwelling on the past. I just accept my situation.
The Blackbird Girls, Reviewed by Anushka, 11
Exceptional books have the ability to not only show you what the characters see, but also make you feel what they feel and think how they think. These books go beyond making you step into the shoes of characters, by making you walk in their shoes. The Blackbird Girls by Anne Blankman is that kind of exceptional book. This book explores an historical event of which I was unaware in a setting I knew almost nothing about — the Chernobyl nuclear disaster in Ukraine. The first couple of pages of the book were intriguing and drew me in. Blankman goes on to paint a picture of the earliest hours after the nuclear explosion — the crimson glow in the sky, the “unearthly blue” smoke, the metallic smell in the air, all set to the backdrop of fear of the government. The story is set in 1986 in Pripyat, Ukraine, and tells the interconnected stories of three characters — Valentina, her grandmother Rifka, and Oksana. Valentina is a Jewish girl who lives with her parents in the former Soviet Union. During those times, people were prejudiced towards Jews. Valentina was bullied and teased by girls like Oksana, the second character, who has been taught that Jews are thieves and fools. Both girls’ parents’ work in the Chernobyl nuclear plant. Then something strange, unexpected, and devastating happens. The nuclear power plant explodes causing radiation to spread throughout the city. Together, Valentina and Oksana escape to Leningrad, Russia to live with Rifka, Valentina’s grandmother, who is the third major character in the book. Valentina had never really known her grandmother until she came to live with her. Rifka shares her experiences about life during the Holocaust with the girls and they learn how she had to leave her home and family to escape the horrors of the Holocaust. These women stand together and experience pain, fear, and persistence as friends, as the “Blackbird Girls.” The friendship between Valentina and Oksana and overcoming hardship are certainly central themes in the book. For me, however, this book is about the truth. In The Blackbird Girls, the Soviet government hides the truth of the nuclear disaster and dangers of nuclear power. The girls have learned that nuclear power is the safest, cleanest source of energy and an accident at the power station was a “statistical impossibility.” The government did not tell citizens that there is radiation in the air and they went about their lives as if it was a normal day. When people got worried about the radiation, they were told by the government that their motherland will protect them. Finally, when people found out about the disaster and the whole city had to be evacuated, the Soviets lied to the world that a disaster even occurred. Later, citizens were misinformed that radiation can be cured by cucumbers and milk. Even though the story is set in the 1980s in a country with a non-democratic government, there are uncanny similarities to the US. Like Russians, Americans have heard lies like these from our government for the past four years and beyond. So many people in America continue to be misinformed about our elections and vaccines. Like Oksana, so many people are prejudiced against people who look different from them, speak a different language, or practice a different religion because of lies they are taught to believe. Lies are dangerous. They can shape people’s perspectives and determine their behavior. This story taught me how important it is for the government to be truthful. It speaks to some of the biggest challenges of our times. Blankman expresses the agony of the characters in an unforgettable way. The death of many loved ones and the pain of the three characters makes the book depressing. Even though I wish the book would be more hopeful, experiencing the suffering of the characters through Blackman’s beautiful writing is what makes this book so impactful. I learned that sharing the experience of suffering and grief might make us move past prejudice and bigotry. But what I really loved and appreciated is how this book speaks to our culture and the moment we are living through right now. It’s a piece of historical fiction that has many parallels to contemporary times. I give it my strongest endorsement. The Blackbird Girls by Anne Blankman. Viking Books for Young Readers, 2020. Buy the book here and support Stone Soup in the process!
