Dear Mom, I love you from the moon and back and words cannot describe how much I love you. You always have my back when I feel like falling over and you always encourage me to go on farther. You are my star, my streetlight, and my lamp. You make everything brighter and more hopeful. I’m always grateful that you are here to listen to my stories and give me advice. Days when I feel like giving up, you motivate me to take a step farther. I know you understand me the best and know how to make everything better. Love is an amazing thing, really. I’m able to trust you without second-guessing myself and I can express myself freely without feeling judged. I’m forever grateful for your guidance. Mom, you’re my best friend, supporter, companion, and soulmate. No one can ever replace the love you have for me and the faith I have in you. Through your help, I was able to grow from an immature little girl to the person I am now. I want to continue my journey with you forever. I’ll always support and love you just like how you do for me! I love you, my favorite person on earth, my best friend, my mom. Love, Lauren
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We’re the Resilient Generation, Not the COVID Generation
We’re the Resilient Generation, Not the COVID Generation Olivia Shekou, 12 What is resilience? “Resilience” is used in physics to describe the way materials revert back to their original shape after undergoing some kind of shock or impact. In medicine, “resilience” describes a patient’s ability to recover after a traumatic event, such as surgery or accidents. “Resilience” was used by my younger brother who came back from Kindergarten one day, now five years ago, saying that his teacher told him “resilience means to bounce back.” That sure struck a chord with him. During our current pandemic, I think we can agree that “resilience” describes our ability to cope with stress, loss, and anxiety in the face of a deadly virus that has swept across the globe. Generation Z (those born between 1995-2009), like myself, and Generation Alpha (those born between 2010-2024), like my younger brother, have quickly learned to wear masks, socially distance, frequently wash our hands, elbow bump rather than hug, and drill test swabs high up in our noses in an effort to do our part. We all waited forever for the vaccine and were quick to line up for it so we could see our grandparents again be social citizens. Our resilience comes from just this—our excitement to return to our schools and communities. It comes from our desire for normalcy, especially coming off the heels of a long depressing year of virtual learning and what felt like a “caged” interaction with our friends who we needed more than ever. Many of us had a serious case of cabin fever, and too many of us were grieving the loss of a family member or friend whose funerals we couldn’t even attend. We’ve been through the unimaginable, all the while watching our own parents figure out how to keep their jobs, care for their own aging and very much vulnerable parents, and guide us in times they’ve never experienced or imagined before. They had no manual or experience of their own to draw from. What we’ve been through has felt like cruel and unusual sci-fi torture. I’ve thought long and hard about the countless immigrant children who move to new unfamiliar countries with no manual of their own, and only their own desire for a better life that fuels their resilience. According to a 2016 UNICEF report, one in eight migrants worldwide are children and these numbers are especially high within refugee populations. Sadly, these immigrant children experience trauma from culture shock, language barriers, racism and, oftentimes, bullying, and yet a large percentage of them recover from the trauma, integrate and thrive. I believe their resilience resides in their motivation for a better life. One such example is a character in the novel Dragonwings, by Lawrence Yip, which I read while stuck at home for my sixth grade year during the pandemic. The character, Moon Shadow Lee, soon became my hero and someone I drew upon to help me through the many ups and downs of our pandemic. Moon Shadow Lee, the 8-year old immigrant narrator and protagonist in Dragonwings, moved from his native country, China, to a new world, the U.S., only to relocate yet again in the aftermath of a natural disaster, all the while confronting racism and violence. At age eight, he traveled alone from China to San Francisco during the 1903 Gold Rush and learned to assimilate in a new environment with many obstacles and unimaginable hurdles. On his first night in San Francisco, Moon Shadow reunites with his father and other family members who run the “Company,” a laundromat service in Chinatown. He receives a rude awakening when some evil Americans—”demons”— shatter their laundromat window with bricks. Soon after, Moon Shadow is unexpectedly beaten by his very own cousin, Black Dog, who turns out to be a corrupt and vile family member. In response to this incident and in search of a safer place to live, Moon Shadow and his father, Windrider, pick up again and relocate to live with the Whitlaw’s outside of Chinatown. Not long after this move, an earthquake devastates San Francisco, uprooting them yet again to a barn in Oakland, a move in which they are rudely awakened again by Black Dog who surreptitiously seeks them out and steals their savings. As a result, they have no way of paying rent on their farm, and through this struggle, Moon Shadow develops a deep level of resilience. Despite this unexpected setback, Moon Shadow and his father manage to pay their rent and go on to achieve their ultimate goal of flying their glider, Dragonwings, a symbol of their freedom and aspirations. Boy did he teach me a number on resilience. Let Moon Shadow’s story be an inspiration to us all. American students and children everywhere, we too are resilient in the face of adversity. We have proved that we are not the COVID Generation, but the Resilient Generation. We too have our kites and gliders to fly, our hopes and ambitions to achieve. Resilience is a shared but unique experience to each of us. What if resilience were a color? If we received exactly what we needed right now in the form of a drop of light in our hearts, what color would it be? Dragonwings by Laurence Yep. Harper Collins, 2001. Buy the book here and support Stone Soup in the process!
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.