Archived work
Beginning on a cold spring day
Little did we know what had begun
We we happy relaxing in the sun,
But soon quarantine would begin,
And schools full of children would no longer be in.
Soon faces were a rare sight,
And places to go, no longer in sight.
The summer was soon beginning too,
But nothing would enter or leave the house,
Not even the light.
Fun ended, and parks closed,
A few months would be hard to handle
But maybe this is good, I suppose.
The sky's still blue outside,
And the sun is still shining, as it goes.
Colors are changing,
Autumn is now here.
But the the sickness is still hanging
Pathogens still in the air,
But it's getting better as I hear.
Schools are back in,
The sickness slowing down,
But masks are still on.
The quarantine still surrounds.
Christmas lights are all around.
The end of quarantine
It will soon come,
Still no gatherings.
And for some,
The end of quarantine will come
My Realization
~Spencer Worth
Biting your fingernail, yummy right? As an 8-year-old little girl, it was a grueling habit that I developed. I would go to school and bite my fingernails, go to gymnastics, bite my fingernails, watch tv, and bite my fingernails. It was a never-ending cycle that haunted me.
For years I continued to munch on old, useless keratin, to the point when they would bleed uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop. I never had a reason to stop, but I never had a reason to continue. As the problem grew and grew and the years went on and on, it finally hit me. I was just 12 years old and my friend was having a birthday party. For the birthday party, we were all going to get our nails done. I was beyond ecstatic because I had never gotten my nails done. As I arrived, I picked out an exquisite bright pink nail polish and the lovely owner sat me down. I waited maybe five minutes before a charming nail technician sat down and looked at my fingernails. She glanced at my nails, and then me, and then back at my nails. She paused, took a deep breath in, and said “I can’t help you today, your nails are way too short.” I sat in sorrow and finally got up and went back to the car. It was in that moment that I decided to finally put an end to a brutal habit.
As I look back, five years later, I’ve absorbed a lot. I wanted to change my habit. I hated that biting my fingernails got the best of me. At just 17 years old, I comprehended that if you want to change the trajectory of your life or a habit, you have to have consistency.
As a swimmer, consistency is something that you have to master. In my freshman year, I wasn’t steady. I wouldn’t go to practice and I really didn’t have a passion for swimming. Throughout the season I ended up doing ok, but I knew I was capable of more. The concept of consistency hit me. As I entered my sophomore year, I knew what I wanted to accomplish; I wanted my times to drop. With consistently going to practices and giving everything I had, my times did just that. Approaching my junior year, I was unstoppable. Out of over 250 practices for the year, I missed 20. With that conscientious and consistent practice attendance, I managed to become a Class 5A state champion on the 200 medley relay. It was an experience that I will never forget. Knowing that just a little hard work and consistency can change anything, even the worst of habits, such as biting your fingernails, is astonishing.
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To: ocr@ed.gov.
From: 407231@vbstudents.com
Subject: The Issue With Standardized Testing
Dear U.S Department of Education,
There is currently a huge issue with the U.S education system in which we put too much emphasis on standardized testing despite the problems it is causing for our students. Due to this issue, the U.S education system should begin transitioning from a focus on standardized testing to a focus on a more interactive and specialized teaching style. There are a variety of reasons for this, with the first being the fact that standardized testing removes the enjoyment and interactiveness of learning and instead forces students to memorize information in time for a test before dumping it out and forgetting it, effectively learning nothing. This is a very sad fact because someone’s childhood should be focused on preparing them for the real world and cultivating their passions, creativity, and dreams, which the school system manages to almost completely oppose, leading to many young people losing their dreams. In addition, teachers have to teach their students based on the premise of them using preconceived tests, which severely limits what they can teach and the ways they can teach those things. I am of the belief that a good teacher is the force that impacts education the most, as they can make or break your interests and interactions with the learning material. That is why there is such a large issue with teachers being forced to teach students based on test material, as it eliminates their freedom in teaching which in turn makes students less passionate about what they are learning. Furthermore, standardized tests cause students to unnecessarily compare themselves to their peers based on an aspect of learning that doesn’t apply to everyone, as school appeals to analytical thinkers and good memorizers, so people good at other aspects of learning feel dumb because the school system is designed to go against them. This constant act of comparison that standardized testing insists on crushes students’ sense of self-worth and makes it feel as though school has a hierarchy, even when everyone has different skills and abilities. Additionally, experts at the University of Texas say that contrary to popular belief, standardized tests don’t help the government improve instruction, as the data provided by the tests fails to inform educators on what each specific student needs and instead only paints a broad picture. The experts go further on to explain that “researchers have failed to demonstrate that 20 years of high-stakes testing and accountability has improved student achievement or narrowed achievement gaps” (DeMatthews).
Despite all of the negatives regarding standardized testing, many people argue that the system provides a cheap and efficient way of educating the majority of students and that despite its flaws, it prepares students for their lives outside of school. This idea builds on the fact that creating highly specialized plans for students using a limited public school budget is infeasible, and that the current system is the best way to educate the majority of students, even if some face unfavorable situations. This argument is valid, as it would be incredibly expensive and inefficient to educate students based on specific needs instead of a base template. However, if we were able to implement a template for the education system in which students had more choice and control over their own learning, as well as an emphasis on interactive and collaborative activities, a compromise could be found. Our education system is what determines the country’s future success, so I think we can afford to direct more funding to transition away from standardized testing. Going further into this solution, there shouldn't be a standard to learning, and students should be given a base set of knowledge by teachers and then should be able to expand on their own interests and discover what they like. It would get rid of a lot of the confusion in life, and every student has different wants and needs so schools should focus on helping students find and act upon those things. Overall, the U.S needs to do away with the outdated practice of standardized testing because it limits students, teachers, and the country’s potential success.
Sincerely,
Logan Beam
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Untitled
~Kyle Videll
Describe the world you come from; for example, your family, school, community, city, or town. How has that world shaped your dreams and aspirations?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt branched between two different worlds: one that I will always occupy, and another that has always occupied me. I recognize that for many, this sounds like something taken straight out of fantasy-- unbelievable, even. But for myself and many others of the 21st century, it is a fantastic reality.
Bustling with information, life, and a uniquely absolute sort of freedom and equality, the Internet is the place where I’ve grown at home. It was at a young age when I set off on my first sojourn, and on it, I sampled the sweet satisfaction that that most comprehensive catalog of content had to offer. I was awestruck; it was as though I'd crawled through a wardrobe and found my own Narnia, lively and ever-changing. I spent small eternities searching, surfing, sifting, steering impassioned investigations regarding anything and all, acquiring acumen to apply to the constant challenges and confrontations of the physical world along the way.
It was outside of cyberspace, in the corporeal quarter that I truly lived, experienced, and bonded with those around me sharing in those same feelings of the age. The Web had much to offer, but there was little permanency in communities to tie its many inhabitants together— it was in the real world that I found friends and familiars whom I'll forever remember fondly. Living in a harbor town alongside the largest naval base in the world, inevitably there were times when these friends would leave, never to return, and I’d retreat into the absolute archives of cyberspace that provided me with certainty. I didn't want to hurt again.
But it was in that cold shell that I would see ever more clearly what drove me to take on the trials and tribulations of life: it was a desire like an undying fire, a burning yearning for learning all about the world, the web, and everyone else experiencing these very uncertainties every day. No matter how cold it gets, this passion, this blistering blaze of mine won’t stop burning. I won't allow it.
For as long as I can remember, I've struggled to try to reconcile these two vastly different domains in which I find myself. But now, I've come to see that they don’t necessarily need to be treated so separately. It's this that draws me to STEM fields like AI and Comp Sci. I believe they'll aid me in my ambition, for I want to further bridge these worlds for those who come after me.
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La Fromagerie
~Isabel Hutcheson
As the lady behind the counter reached for her large knife, my grandmother leaned forward and pointed to the Roquefort, a white looking wedge of cheese splattered with small craters of blue mold that lay there behind the glass, among what seemed to be a hundred other cheeses. I am in France, at "la fromagerie", buying cheese with my grandmother like I have done every week during the summer since I was a little girl.
When I think of Roquefort, I think of a place I love. A small quaint village located some four thousand miles away at the foot of the French Alps. There, in my grandparents’ chalet, free of wifi, TV, and phone, I disconnect from social media and enjoy life at a slower pace. This is a place where my mom, grandparents, and great-grandparents grew up, and where every summer for a few weeks, I learn about my French heritage and enjoy homemade meals that are always concluded by the arrival of the cheese tray, and by my cousins and I competing for the last piece of Roquefort. In those moments, I often feel that my love for this moldy cheese, which is “not for everyone," is my proof to the French that despite my American accent, I belong with them.
When I think of Roquefort, I also think of my grandmother and of the pride she exults when she tells the "fromagère" (the lady selling cheese) how much her American grandchildren love that cheese. My grandmother is 80 years old, a retired high school teacher, and a very active volunteer in her community. The passion and discipline she demonstrates in everything she does has always been a source of inspiration and strength for me. I carry her words of wisdom and encouragement with me as I too discover what I am passionate about and how to positively contribute to my community. Her "yes you can" and "hard work always pays off" resonate in my head whenever I feel overwhelmed or discouraged with a school assignment, or when I take on a new activity, and my mother worries that it might be too much. I think of the impact she had on her students when I spent time with the children that I meet through the Care By Community organization. My grandmother has made me keenly aware of the impact that kind words and simple acts of kindness have on young children, especially those who live in a disadvantaged community or in a broken family. Hence, in the few hours I spend with them, while talking over homework or playing with toys, I am very mindful of what I say and I listen carefully. I try to inspire them, and give them strength, love, encouragement, and confidence; Something that they can take with them and remember when they go home that night.
Then the summer ends and comes the time to say goodbye to my grandparents and to this place I love. Each year, on the morning of our departure, as my sister and I load our bags in the car to go to the airport, my grandmother would be in the kitchen making Roquefort sandwiches for our cross-Atlantic flight back home. I love taking these sandwiches on the plane with me. It feels like I am making my French summer last just a little bit longer. As I later carefully unwrap the precious food, 30,000 ft in the air, I imagine the concerned and maybe even disgusted look that the people sitting next to me might have on their face, as well as their partial relief when they come to realize that “it does not stink.” To their untrained eyes, this moldy cheese may look like just another blue cheese, but to me it has grown to be so much more.
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Why I Exist
I should not exist. My sisters should not exist. My mom should not exist. My entire
family should have been one of the six million murdered during the Holocaust. During a time of
blind moral collapse, only a few righteous upstanders imperiled their own lives to protect
others. Their commitment to doing the right thing, no matter the cost, inspires me to become a
better sister, daughter, friend, student, and community member. By learning my family’s story, I
acknowledge how lucky I am to exist, which is why I am so motivated to make the most of my
Life.
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The Myth of Happily Ever After
~Abigail Ashcraft
Did Rose even want Jack on the door in the first place? The debate on whether or not both Jack Dawson and Rose DeWitt Bukater could have fit on the door together is now more than two decades old. People have created a plethora of different theories about the infamous debate and still cannot decide on a conclusive answer. I believe Jack Dawson could have survived the sinking of the Titanic.
The ending of one of the most well-known heart-wrenching films left many people wondering one thing: could there have been an alternate ending? Whether or not Jack Dawson could have had a different fate is one of the biggest controversies in film. The tragic storyline between Rose and Jack is like many others. Two star-crossed lovers meet by some odd fate. The movie takes us through their budding romance, only for it to come to a tragic end. Many will argue that Jack Dawson’s death was needed in order to create the extra shock factor however I disagree.
The arguments surrounding Titanic and the different ways the story could have gone are astronomical. Near the end of the movie, both Jack and Rose attempt to get on a floating door to save themselves from the unbearably cold water. Due to the way they climbed onto the door, it appeared they could not both be on at the same time. I find it strange that both Jack and Rose immediately gave up after that. Trying multiple different approaches to getting on the door could have been their ticket to a happy ending. Mythbusters conducted an experiment to prove the fact that both Jack and Rose could have fit on the door at the same time. Their experiment showed that the door sank a little after the both of them got on at the same time. With some quick thinking, they took their life vest and tied it under the door creating more buoyancy. After that brilliant solution, both men could float on the door with more than 80% of their body out of the water. Some may argue that neither Jack nor Rose were smart enough to think like this, but that is not the only way they could have survived. While the Titanic was sinking, Rose jumped off of her lifeboat to be with Jack-- how romantic-- but caused the both of them to end up in the freezing cold ocean. If this hadn’t been done, they both could still be alive.
Titanic beautifully conveys a relationship that wasn't given enough time to prosper, but in the end, it was unrealistic. Although there was a purpose behind Jack Dawson’s death, there was not much logic behind it. I believe producing a good movie doesn’t always require evoking immense shock from the audience by killing off the main character of a story.
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Until the Last Pitch
~Carleigh Faulkner
I believe in the intimacy of baseball. The intoxicating smells, the ear-splitting cheers, and all of the exuberant fans waiting to be met are incomparable. I’ve made countless memories talking to ushers and players who took a minute to speak to the eager little girl wearing a baseball jersey down to her knees. I could spend hours talking to people with the same belief as me: that the baseball diamond is the most welcoming place on Earth.
Every Norfolk Tides game that I was able to attend, single-handedly changed my melancholy summers. Enduring the blistering heat every daytime game was worth it. Because Minor League Baseball is so different and much more relaxed than the major leagues, I had the chance to develop distinctive relationships with each player. Knowing that out of the entire crowd, my favorite athletes could discern my incessant cheering from everyone else’s incessant cheering made the game so more gratifying. And patiently waiting outside of the park to assure every player that they had a noteworthy performance added to all of my irreplaceable memories.
My entire life, baseball has had that familiar feeling, much like the warmth of sipping on scalding hot cocoa after a painfully frigid snowstorm. Whether baseball was only playing on TV in the background, or I was going to a game with free company tickets, I’ve always had a powerful connection to the sport. I truly pity the people who haven’t had the same experience as me. The bitter-sweet moments of tasting a ballpark hot dog, spending enormous amounts of money at every concession stand, and being forced to hand over the only foul ball you’ve ever caught to the cute little girl pleading with her tear-filled eyes are all part of baseball. Although the majority of Americans prefer football over baseball, I believe that everyone has experienced the intimacy of baseball; some just appreciate the feeling more.
I believe in the infinite memories that are waiting to be made at the baseball diamond. I believe in staying at the game until the last pitch. I believe in spending my weekly allowance on baseball cards whenever I have the chance. I believe in laughing at the noticeably inebriated adults in the front rows. In every baseball game, there are 12,386,344 different possible plays, and I believe in thinking about every one of them.
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Living in Harmony
My life revolves around music. Some of my earliest memories are of my mom teaching me how to sing “Dona Nobis Pacem.” My parents were band directors, and now my entire family are musicians. Music is the glue that binds my family. I have personally experienced the way that music connects people, and music will always be a part of my life long after I move out. I believe in how music can bring people together and communicate what can’t be said in words.
One of the many experiences that shaped my view was the District Band in 7th grade. District Band is a three-day event in which the best middle school band students from across the district assemble to prepare and perform a concert. That year, I didn’t know anyone there, and many other students were in similar situations. We all came from different backgrounds and lives, yet music brought us together. Though we all had had different experiences, we all understood the emotions associated with those experiences. One piece that I particularly enjoyed had a beautiful lyrical section - a river of intense feeling flowing out from the band. It wasn’t happy or sad, angry or forgiving, exuberant or desperate. It was somewhere in between: a complexity that could never be conveyed in words, yet we all understood it, whatever it was. Non-musicians will most likely never truly understand; there is no way to accurately convey the connection that can take place when musicians play together without experiencing it firsthand. To quote my mom and several other musicians, “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture.”
My mom has always been there for me and helped me with any of my musical endeavors. She is a flute player, the same as me, and some of my favorite memories have been of playing duets together. There is a special variety of feelings that manifests when a person plays together with a specific person repeatedly. To play a duet, the musicians must be in sync the entire time, or the parts won’t line up. When we play, my mom and I are two sides of the same coin. Our sounds swirl into one wave of music. She is still my favorite duet partner.
Throughout my life, music has been a way for me to feel at home. Whether that means playing duets with my mom or working with a large ensemble such as the District Band, music allows me to connect to people in a way that I normally wouldn’t be able to. As the saying goes: music is the universal language.
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Don’t Stress The Test
~Braden Grisham
"That was the best summer break I've ever had,” said Jerome. “Yeah, but now it's over,” said Ryan. The boys had gone with their parents on a cruise ship to France and back. Jerome was always stuck working to prove to his parents that he could do great things like becoming a famous writer or an inventor who made something everyone knew they needed. Jerome’s parents never believed in his dreams; they said that they would never happen because they are unrealistic dreams. The reason they thought his dreams wouldn’t happen was because their dreams failed.
Ryan was always trying to convince Jerome to go outside but he never did. Jerome tried his best every day and he was passing all his classes with A’s and B’s, and his parents were proud of him but they still weren’t convinced he could make it. When he made it to high school he felt ready to prove his parents wrong, but when he got there his teachers didn’t give him small amounts of work. He had so much work to do that he was behind in a few classes. Eventually, he was able to turn all his assignments in on time and got A’s and B’s as he had planned.
Jerome was at home studying for three hours one night because he had a test that was fifty percent of his grade. He studied his hardest so that he would pass. If he didn't pass the test and failed the class, that would make it so much harder for him to live his dream.
The day of the test came and Jerome was ready with his number two pencil and his eraser. The teacher then said, “you may now begin." The class was given two hours of testing time, a break every thirty minutes. He felt a little weird since it seemed like an SOL test and asked his teacher “What type of test did you say this was?” The teacher told him “It's just a test to see how well you have done this year." She left his desk and Jerome continued working. Once the test was over the teacher said, "Will everyone pass your papers up front?" They did.
The day of grades being given back finally got here and Jerome was so excited. Once he saw his paper he lit up with joy; he got 87%. The teachers gathered everyone in the cafeteria and of course, there was some mumbling but they said, “This test may have been a little odd for some of you but I would like you to know this was your SOL." The room filled with silence once they heard the news. Jerome couldn’t believe it. He was so happy he had gotten a B on his SOL. The teachers said, “We didn’t tell you that it was an SOL because it just makes it more stressful and difficult and nobody wants that."
A few years later Jerome got his college degree and was so happy that he was about to make his dream come true. He eventually was able to fulfill his dream of becoming an inventor.
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Jayden Moore
six-word memoirs
going left, right: California, Texas, Virginia
squirrel and possum, the road chickens
