Maya Ruben, 10 (Washington DC) Zooming In Maya Ruben, 10 “Knowing how to care is the first step, but actively going out of your way to do something nice is what really matters,” Ms. Sandra said in a welcoming voice. I found it funny how she thought no one noticed the filter she had on that made her lips red. Whenever she moved her mouth, the lipstick struggled to follow. She looked like a beginner ventriloquist trying to make minimal mouth movements. I was lying in bed with my pajamas on and my camera off. I split my screen in half with Zoom on one half and YouTube on the other. It turns out it is very entertaining to watch cats being scared of cucumbers. I finished up the first two classes, neither of which I listened to or cared about. I walked downstairs and saw my mom and dad talking. When I came, they stopped and looked over at me. “Hey, how’s school going?” asked Dad. “Same old, same old,” I said sarcastically. “So, Dad and I were talking about all of us going to the art museum together, when school is over for today,” said Mom. I was surprised by how she had said that so quickly and simply, like she was taking a single sip of a smoothie. It’s not that I didn’t like the idea, it was just weird to do so suddenly, after all this time in distance learning. But I was ready for it. When we got to the museum, I noticed that it was very small. Good. I don’t like big places. We secured our masks and walked inside. I was caught off guard by a beautiful piece of art on the wall. It was a lime-green circle with no significance whatsoever. But I was still captivated. The silence of this art was different from the silence of distance learning. I suddenly pulled my gaze away from the painting and realized my parents weren’t there. “Mom?” I asked. No reply. “Mom!” I raised my voice. Still no reply. I sat on an unwelcoming chair, looking back up at the picture, embracing the feeling of being alone. I felt meaningless in the wide universe. But I knew Mom and Dad couldn’t have gone far in this tiny, uncrowded place. I sighed and was about to stand up to go look for them, but first I felt the need to stay and collect my thoughts. Just for a moment, I was alone with the world.
COVID-19
A Birthday Cake in a Pandemic, a personal narrative by Olivia, 10
A Birthday Cake in a Pandemic Olivia Ren, 10 I was wandering around my house, not doing anything in particular, just walking around. It was March 16, 2020, and my mom, dad, little sister, and I were trying to adjust to a new life due to COVID-19. By “new life,” I mean a totally different lifestyle. I needed to go to school on my computer at nine, and finish the work that was posted on my Google Classroom by one, and then go and watch my sister for my parents because they were busy with their work. Things were difficult, but there was an even more important issue for us: in one day, it would be my mom’s birthday. During one of my virtual school breaks, I had overheard my parents talking upstairs. They weren’t talking with any of their colleagues, only each other. This was not regular. I was so curious that I forgot to stay quiet, and ran to their room. They were so concentrated on talking that they didn’t hear my loud footsteps on our creaky floor. My dad sighed. “I guess we can’t get a birthday cake for you this year.” I couldn’t bear to listen to my parents talk about my mom’s birthday anymore. How could I just stand there watching my mom’s birthday pass by without cake? I was determined to make my mom’s birthday special. I felt thankful that I had a mom who cared about my birthday, and I wanted her to feel the same. But what could I do? Then…a lightbulb appeared in my head. Yogurt could save the day. *** It was my mom’s birthday, and I tiptoed down the stairs. I ripped open our refrigerator looking for the yogurt. My whole family was doing their own things. Emily, my sister, was making a card for my mom. My parents were sleeping. I stacked slices of breakfast bread on top of each other and slathered them with yogurt to glue them together. Then I drizzled some of the yogurt frosting over my creation. I scanned our fridge, plucked out all the other ingredients I needed. I soon had a problem, though. My yogurt frosting was way too solid. I thought of water right away, but I didn’t even try to imagine what my creation would taste like if I stirred water into my strawberry yogurt. Then I thought of milk. My sister mixed milk and yogurt all the time and it tasted… well, great! So, I went with milk stirred with yogurt. Nah. It was too watery. I didn’t want to bring my mom a disgusting and soggy piece of nothing. It needed to be a little bit stickier. I brainstormed what was sticky. Glue! Well, we couldn’t eat glue. That would be careless. Then I thought of syrup and honey! Syrup made it cloggy, honey made it clear, but it wasn’t half as sweet as I wanted it to be. So, I sprinkled some sugar to make it sweeter. It took much longer than I expected, but I kept working on my mom’s cake, not allowing anything to stop me! After a few hours, it was time for my mom’s birthday celebration. “Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear mo-om, happy birthday to you.” I sang the loudest! My mom made her wish, and then it was cake time! I got my cake, and carefully placed it onto the dining table. “Wow! That looks beautiful…” My mom said, tearing up with happiness. “I hope you like it!” I told her. “I ran into some problems, but it should still taste good.” “It’s fine! I absolutely love it! I am so proud of you!” Mom sniffled. She hugged me. I hugged her right back and smiled. “Thanks! I felt that every birthday needed a cake, even in a pandemic.” I felt proud, emotional, and happy at the same time. I just loved to make my mom feel happy. “Yeah, I agree! Good job Olivia! I think you just made Mom’s day!” Dad told me. That night, I went to bed feeling amazed by the power of determination. Even during tough times, there is always some way to make others feel special. My goal to get my mom a birthday cake during a pandemic was achieved, and even better, it helped make my mom feel appreciated. This is the true way to spread thoughtfulness during hard times.
“Positive,” a personal narrative by Sarayu B., 11
Positive Sarayu B, 11 I got the news sometime in January. I was waiting, waiting, waiting for my grandmother to get better. She had tested positive for COVID-19 earlier, and the more I thought about it, the more it seemed so… unreal. I’d heard about many people who got sick and even died from COVID, but I couldn’t imagine my grandma, the one I knew and loved since my birth, passing away from a small, simple illness. It was the afternoon one day—Thursday, I think—when I was told. I was in the room I share with my brother, logged into Google Meet. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, we had been having school through meetings, virtually, learning everything we would normally learn. Then my mom came in, in her pajamas, which was strange. She never came into the room in the middle of my class unless I called her or she was bringing me a snack or something. She was upset. I could tell by the way she stood there in the doorway. Then she told me. The words struck me like lightning. “Ammamma got COVID,” she said simply in Telugu, smiling weakly. The way she said it, she could easily have been talking about a stranger. But no. It was my grandma, her mom. Thoughts were spiraling about in my head, but I managed to say, “How do you know?” “We were told just now,” my mom said. “She’s in the hospital.” My heart lurched. It was like being struck by lightning the second time. My mom left and walked into the master bedroom, the floorboards creaking under her feet. I tried to focus on the meeting, but I couldn’t. This piece was submitted to us via our Classroom Submissions (for teacher’s only) portal in Submittable. If you are a teacher and would like to submit your students’ work, please do so here.
