Hogan High School's Filipino-American Class rehearse their rendition of a literary piece entitled "Kami ang Kabataan" (We Are The Youth) written by Christian Manansala. The poem is about love of country, diversity, and humanity.
20100819
To Fly Wingless
Fay Pon, 11th Grade
San Ramon
Dougherty Valley High School
By the age of six, I had moved a grand total of four times. And every time, Baba’s favorite gingko tree came along with us. No matter how many times its roots were pulled, torn, and cut from all the moving and replanting, the gingko tree never died.
Baba had brought its seeds from China to America when he was a child, and the tree has grown with him ever since.
“I replant my tree,” he explained, “because trees like this one will grow to be sturdy and it will live anywhere.”
Behind our new house was a small garden, and I would watch my father replant many, many gingko bilobas.
“Fay, when you grow up, you will be just like this tree. You will study hard and have a steady job and no matter where you go, you will survive and thrive well.”
I nodded obediently. I am a tree and I will grow up to be successful.
At the age of seven, I was going to be a wealthy business woman. It only takes four years of college, my mother would say to me, and it’ll keep you from ending up on the streets. It had been, indeed, a practical career choice. I again nodded obediently, not giving much thought for who I was going to be a decade from then.
However, as the year to choose colleges drew nearer, my outlook on my future began to change. I loved telling stories. I would tell them to the darkness of my bedroom when everyone slept and no one could hear, but it felt good because my voice echoed against the walls like a microphone. I would scribble them hastily on the margins of my homework planner. I would trace make-believe family trees and character-names with my finger. I was going to be a writer.
My Mama liked to tell stories too, but they all led back to the same moral lesson—
“And so, you have to study hard, and go to a good college, and be successful. You have to fulfill the expectations of your poor ancestors.”
Just like that, the phrase “good college” being the understatement of the century.
One day, when I was 12, I told my mother about my dreams.
She was in the kitchen preparing dim-sum whilst telling me about her life in China, a life of very little opportunity because of the death-strewn ravages of war, “You’re lucky, that Stanford is only an hour away.”
Mama gave me a gentle smile that flickered with hope. With dreams. With expectations.
I looked up at her, “But Mama, I want to publish a novel.”
“W-What?”
“A novel, Mama. You’re going to tell me more stories and I’m going to write it all down.I’m going to be a writer when I grow up,” I replied.
The smile on my mother’s face, however, slid off immediately.
“No Fay, most writers end up on the streets. You need a practical job. You will study hard and become an engineer like your father.”
At that, she pushed an Algebra book into my arms, “Go study.”
Oh well. Amongst the crowd, I guess I am just one person, like any other. Why should I dream any differently?
I was 14 when everything changed in our family. After my younger sister was diagnosed with Autism, I found interest in something other than writing. I soon began studying diseases and learning about the research involved in treating such maladies because, at the time, the doctor had told our family that there was no remedy for Autism. That made me sad, and no matter how much I wrote and wrote about despair and angst and forlorn little things, I could do nothing with words.
I wanted to help others, to take action in improving my sister’s condition and that of other patients as well. And so, in the waiting room that night at the hospital, I told my mother,
“I want to be a doctor, Mama.” I told her this, despite the fact that I still gripped my writing notebook in one hand and a fountain pen in the other.
She turned to me and smiled gently, taking my hand, “You know Fay, you are a strong girl. You should be what you want to be.”
And in that instant, my dreams came back.
I am almost 17 now, taking college courses as a high school student just like all the other Asian students in town.
But aside from the usual classes, I take Creative Writing classes. Despite the lack of encouragement, my dream in becoming an Asian American writer has not faltered.
I will double major, one in Medicine to pursue Autism research for my sister and one in Writing & Literature for myself, so I can fulfill both dreams, connect both ends of my family’s gossamer thread of hopes. And through time, I have grown to love both.
I have stories to tell about people like me, here in America, I say. My English teacher gives an encouraging smile.
I have the hands and the heart to help save lives, I say. At home, my family nods in approval. After all, studying medicine is a dream shared by us all.
My dad once told me that I was going to grow like a gingko tree one day, steady and wise. The tree can grow and grow and spread its roots, but it cannot walk away.
I am a bird. And the gingko tree is my home. A bird that can spread its wings even when the weather grows drafty, that can fly back and forth from dream to dream, from home to home.
A messenger bird, indeed.
It likes to tell stories, to sing its songs for the world to hear.
I can live two dreams now.
San Ramon
Dougherty Valley High School
By the age of six, I had moved a grand total of four times. And every time, Baba’s favorite gingko tree came along with us. No matter how many times its roots were pulled, torn, and cut from all the moving and replanting, the gingko tree never died.
Baba had brought its seeds from China to America when he was a child, and the tree has grown with him ever since.
“I replant my tree,” he explained, “because trees like this one will grow to be sturdy and it will live anywhere.”
Behind our new house was a small garden, and I would watch my father replant many, many gingko bilobas.
“Fay, when you grow up, you will be just like this tree. You will study hard and have a steady job and no matter where you go, you will survive and thrive well.”
I nodded obediently. I am a tree and I will grow up to be successful.
At the age of seven, I was going to be a wealthy business woman. It only takes four years of college, my mother would say to me, and it’ll keep you from ending up on the streets. It had been, indeed, a practical career choice. I again nodded obediently, not giving much thought for who I was going to be a decade from then.
However, as the year to choose colleges drew nearer, my outlook on my future began to change. I loved telling stories. I would tell them to the darkness of my bedroom when everyone slept and no one could hear, but it felt good because my voice echoed against the walls like a microphone. I would scribble them hastily on the margins of my homework planner. I would trace make-believe family trees and character-names with my finger. I was going to be a writer.
My Mama liked to tell stories too, but they all led back to the same moral lesson—
“And so, you have to study hard, and go to a good college, and be successful. You have to fulfill the expectations of your poor ancestors.”
Just like that, the phrase “good college” being the understatement of the century.
One day, when I was 12, I told my mother about my dreams.
She was in the kitchen preparing dim-sum whilst telling me about her life in China, a life of very little opportunity because of the death-strewn ravages of war, “You’re lucky, that Stanford is only an hour away.”
Mama gave me a gentle smile that flickered with hope. With dreams. With expectations.
I looked up at her, “But Mama, I want to publish a novel.”
“W-What?”
“A novel, Mama. You’re going to tell me more stories and I’m going to write it all down.I’m going to be a writer when I grow up,” I replied.
The smile on my mother’s face, however, slid off immediately.
“No Fay, most writers end up on the streets. You need a practical job. You will study hard and become an engineer like your father.”
At that, she pushed an Algebra book into my arms, “Go study.”
Oh well. Amongst the crowd, I guess I am just one person, like any other. Why should I dream any differently?
I was 14 when everything changed in our family. After my younger sister was diagnosed with Autism, I found interest in something other than writing. I soon began studying diseases and learning about the research involved in treating such maladies because, at the time, the doctor had told our family that there was no remedy for Autism. That made me sad, and no matter how much I wrote and wrote about despair and angst and forlorn little things, I could do nothing with words.
I wanted to help others, to take action in improving my sister’s condition and that of other patients as well. And so, in the waiting room that night at the hospital, I told my mother,
“I want to be a doctor, Mama.” I told her this, despite the fact that I still gripped my writing notebook in one hand and a fountain pen in the other.
She turned to me and smiled gently, taking my hand, “You know Fay, you are a strong girl. You should be what you want to be.”
And in that instant, my dreams came back.
I am almost 17 now, taking college courses as a high school student just like all the other Asian students in town.
But aside from the usual classes, I take Creative Writing classes. Despite the lack of encouragement, my dream in becoming an Asian American writer has not faltered.
I will double major, one in Medicine to pursue Autism research for my sister and one in Writing & Literature for myself, so I can fulfill both dreams, connect both ends of my family’s gossamer thread of hopes. And through time, I have grown to love both.
I have stories to tell about people like me, here in America, I say. My English teacher gives an encouraging smile.
I have the hands and the heart to help save lives, I say. At home, my family nods in approval. After all, studying medicine is a dream shared by us all.
My dad once told me that I was going to grow like a gingko tree one day, steady and wise. The tree can grow and grow and spread its roots, but it cannot walk away.
I am a bird. And the gingko tree is my home. A bird that can spread its wings even when the weather grows drafty, that can fly back and forth from dream to dream, from home to home.
A messenger bird, indeed.
It likes to tell stories, to sing its songs for the world to hear.
I can live two dreams now.
20100817
Beautiful Coral - My Chinese Name
Lishan Nan Caroll, Age 6, 1st Grade
Stanford
Nixon Elementary School
My mommy says Chinese names set expectations for life. My mommy’s name is 王立華(Lihua). It means Build up China. But I think she wants to climb trees instead.
My name is 麗珊 (Lishan). It means Beautiful Coral. I want to Be healthy and to be beautiful. Coral is Sharp! I must read Books and study.
My dog’s name is Sparky. Her Chinese name is 兔兔 (bunny). Could she be a bunny? No! But she can jump and sometimes she eats carrots.
My dad’s name is Glenn. His Chinese name is 野平. It means wild and calm. My did is not wild. But sometimes he Barks like a wild dog.
My mom’s dad’s name is 金堂 (gold house). I wonder if the gold house has windows? Because we can’t see inside him where the gold should Be.
My mom’s mom’s name is 龍珍 (Precious Dragon). She is not like a dragon but She is very Precious and Special.
What’s in a Chinese name? Where does it come from? Usually the parents. The Chinese name tells some expectations from the parents. The Child hears the name, learns the expectations, then decides to try to do them _____ or not! I think it is better to try but not always. Yes, you should listen to your Chinese name, to the ideas of your parents and ancestors, But you must also be true to your heart.
Stanford
Nixon Elementary School
My mommy says Chinese names set expectations for life. My mommy’s name is 王立華(Lihua). It means Build up China. But I think she wants to climb trees instead.
My name is 麗珊 (Lishan). It means Beautiful Coral. I want to Be healthy and to be beautiful. Coral is Sharp! I must read Books and study.
My dog’s name is Sparky. Her Chinese name is 兔兔 (bunny). Could she be a bunny? No! But she can jump and sometimes she eats carrots.
My dad’s name is Glenn. His Chinese name is 野平. It means wild and calm. My did is not wild. But sometimes he Barks like a wild dog.
My mom’s dad’s name is 金堂 (gold house). I wonder if the gold house has windows? Because we can’t see inside him where the gold should Be.
My mom’s mom’s name is 龍珍 (Precious Dragon). She is not like a dragon but She is very Precious and Special.
What’s in a Chinese name? Where does it come from? Usually the parents. The Chinese name tells some expectations from the parents. The Child hears the name, learns the expectations, then decides to try to do them _____ or not! I think it is better to try but not always. Yes, you should listen to your Chinese name, to the ideas of your parents and ancestors, But you must also be true to your heart.
20100512
My Faustian Pact
By Wilson Wu Fan Ai Tong School, 5A
"You've been tested positive.." Those words form the doctor weighed down like an anchor. MY heart sank, body iced and mind blanked in an instant. Now that I recall, the first image to enter my mind after regaining a semblance of composure was a dying AIDS1 victim, surrounded by his family members, in an advertisement from United Colours of Benetton. I'm now a carrier of the HIV2 virus.
About a year ago, I still had a future. Leading to its destruction, ironically, was an opportunity that my friends and I thought was golden. "Boys, we've got a gig!" exclaimed Steve. He was the lead vocalist of The Cream, a nascent band that featured his younger brother, Jacob, as the percussionist; Johnny, our childhood friend, as the bass guitarist; and me, the lead guitarist. Lady Luck must be smiling down, all of us thought, when Steve broke the news that we had been selected to perform at the annual Rock Festival.
The event was an unexpected success. We were buoyed by the cheers and applause from the electrified crowd. What surprised us even more were the flattering comments from Matthew, an influential composer in the region. "It was a fantastic performance. I didn't have the impression that you guys were a bunch of rookies," he remarked. Before parting, we were invited to a party at his house. Steve eagerly agreed on our behalf. "We need connections," he told us later.
An unmistakable air of hedonism permeated the sprawling apartment. The owner had no lack of any material comfort that I could think of. Every piece of furniture, decoration and entertainment device was synonymous with luxury. It seemed that we had entered a different world. Except for us, the guests at Matthew's party were all dressed in designer outfits. They were dancing to techno music while we stood at a corner sipping cocktails served by waiters who treated us condescendingly.
Jacob, feeling bored and uneasy, said, "There are only high society people here. This is not a place for us." Just when we were deliberating whether to leave, the host came up to us. "Hey, are you guys comfortable?" Matthew asked. "Let me be a gracious host," he continued without waiting for a reply. "You can ease yourselves into the party." Matthew then took Steve's hand, placed a packet of pink pills on his palm and closed the the fingers to make a fist before letting go. I saw a smirk on the composer's lips. His penetrating eyeballs gave each of us a glance. He walked away after pretending to pop something into his mouth. The gesture was easily understood.
"We are not going to touch that stuff!" Jacob protested as soon as the host was out of sight. I nodded in agreement. "Are you afraid of ending up like Kurt Cobain?" Steve snapped. "Don't forget the premature deaths of Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison!" Jacob retorted, citing the names of iconic rock personalities who had their lives terminated by drugs. The two brothers were embroiled in a heated exchange of words until Johnny interrupted, "Jacob, I know that we should stay clean, but your brother is right. We need the performances, songs and tips that Matthew can offer to give us the success that our talents deserve." There was no denying that Matthew could propel our musical ambition. Steve coaxed. Johnny cajoled. By rejecting the drugs, they believed we would not get another opportunity to seek the help of Matthew. In the end, we made a dual pact. We agreed to rid our lives of drugs once we achieved our objectives and to prevent each other from getting into a vicious cycle of addiction.
It turned out to be a Faustian pact. Our acceptance of drugs from Matthew brought us into his circle of influence. He used his clout to help the band gain publicity though various platforms, and much sooner than expected, a proposal was tabled for us to cut our very first album. In the meantime, we ventured deeper and deeper into the wasteland of drugs. The dark side of Matthew was soon revealed to us. Behind his facade as a respected composer, he was the leader of a drug syndicate. We were among his clientele. The few attempts made to wean ourselves from drugs were blocked by withdrawal symptoms that brought absolute misery. It was too difficult to exchange glamour and rewards for suffering. In the spiraling freefall, we graduated from "Ecstasy" pills to a smorgasbord of cocaine, heroin and marijuana.
A drug raid abruptly ended our life of decadence. Narcotics officers operating undercover arrested us in a discotheque. Memories of the incident are vague. I was high and dazed when the law caught up with me. It was in police custody that I realised the folly of my actions. However, I did not expect the consequences to be more severe that imprisonment and caning. Three days after a mandatory blood specimen test, I was told of my infection with the deadly HIV virus. It was tantamount to pronouncing the death sentence on me. The same fate fell on Steve. We must have been infected through needles used by other drug abusers.
Almost two months have since elapsed. During this period, I experienced the agony of freeing my body from narcotics dependence. Many times during the day, in a silent lucidity, I wished regretfully that time could be reversed. The nights were interspersed with intense moments of anguish. Thoughts of suicide crossed my mind. The haunting guilt and pain are difficult to exorcise.
Yet, I have derived from them the strength to live on. In the drug rehabilitation centre where I am now, many former addicts have shared their stories with me. All the accounts invariably end with a desire to make restitution to those who have been hurt. I cannot cause more sorrows to my parents. Rather than choosing a road to perdition, I have decided to complete my remaining journey with dignity. Obstacles will arise along the way, but I am prepared to face them. Indeed, the price for taking drugs is too high to pay and they must be shunned without hesitation.
1 AIDS is the acronym for Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome
2 HIV stands for Human Immunodeficiency Virus
"You've been tested positive.." Those words form the doctor weighed down like an anchor. MY heart sank, body iced and mind blanked in an instant. Now that I recall, the first image to enter my mind after regaining a semblance of composure was a dying AIDS1 victim, surrounded by his family members, in an advertisement from United Colours of Benetton. I'm now a carrier of the HIV2 virus.
About a year ago, I still had a future. Leading to its destruction, ironically, was an opportunity that my friends and I thought was golden. "Boys, we've got a gig!" exclaimed Steve. He was the lead vocalist of The Cream, a nascent band that featured his younger brother, Jacob, as the percussionist; Johnny, our childhood friend, as the bass guitarist; and me, the lead guitarist. Lady Luck must be smiling down, all of us thought, when Steve broke the news that we had been selected to perform at the annual Rock Festival.
The event was an unexpected success. We were buoyed by the cheers and applause from the electrified crowd. What surprised us even more were the flattering comments from Matthew, an influential composer in the region. "It was a fantastic performance. I didn't have the impression that you guys were a bunch of rookies," he remarked. Before parting, we were invited to a party at his house. Steve eagerly agreed on our behalf. "We need connections," he told us later.
An unmistakable air of hedonism permeated the sprawling apartment. The owner had no lack of any material comfort that I could think of. Every piece of furniture, decoration and entertainment device was synonymous with luxury. It seemed that we had entered a different world. Except for us, the guests at Matthew's party were all dressed in designer outfits. They were dancing to techno music while we stood at a corner sipping cocktails served by waiters who treated us condescendingly.
Jacob, feeling bored and uneasy, said, "There are only high society people here. This is not a place for us." Just when we were deliberating whether to leave, the host came up to us. "Hey, are you guys comfortable?" Matthew asked. "Let me be a gracious host," he continued without waiting for a reply. "You can ease yourselves into the party." Matthew then took Steve's hand, placed a packet of pink pills on his palm and closed the the fingers to make a fist before letting go. I saw a smirk on the composer's lips. His penetrating eyeballs gave each of us a glance. He walked away after pretending to pop something into his mouth. The gesture was easily understood.
"We are not going to touch that stuff!" Jacob protested as soon as the host was out of sight. I nodded in agreement. "Are you afraid of ending up like Kurt Cobain?" Steve snapped. "Don't forget the premature deaths of Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison!" Jacob retorted, citing the names of iconic rock personalities who had their lives terminated by drugs. The two brothers were embroiled in a heated exchange of words until Johnny interrupted, "Jacob, I know that we should stay clean, but your brother is right. We need the performances, songs and tips that Matthew can offer to give us the success that our talents deserve." There was no denying that Matthew could propel our musical ambition. Steve coaxed. Johnny cajoled. By rejecting the drugs, they believed we would not get another opportunity to seek the help of Matthew. In the end, we made a dual pact. We agreed to rid our lives of drugs once we achieved our objectives and to prevent each other from getting into a vicious cycle of addiction.
It turned out to be a Faustian pact. Our acceptance of drugs from Matthew brought us into his circle of influence. He used his clout to help the band gain publicity though various platforms, and much sooner than expected, a proposal was tabled for us to cut our very first album. In the meantime, we ventured deeper and deeper into the wasteland of drugs. The dark side of Matthew was soon revealed to us. Behind his facade as a respected composer, he was the leader of a drug syndicate. We were among his clientele. The few attempts made to wean ourselves from drugs were blocked by withdrawal symptoms that brought absolute misery. It was too difficult to exchange glamour and rewards for suffering. In the spiraling freefall, we graduated from "Ecstasy" pills to a smorgasbord of cocaine, heroin and marijuana.
A drug raid abruptly ended our life of decadence. Narcotics officers operating undercover arrested us in a discotheque. Memories of the incident are vague. I was high and dazed when the law caught up with me. It was in police custody that I realised the folly of my actions. However, I did not expect the consequences to be more severe that imprisonment and caning. Three days after a mandatory blood specimen test, I was told of my infection with the deadly HIV virus. It was tantamount to pronouncing the death sentence on me. The same fate fell on Steve. We must have been infected through needles used by other drug abusers.
Almost two months have since elapsed. During this period, I experienced the agony of freeing my body from narcotics dependence. Many times during the day, in a silent lucidity, I wished regretfully that time could be reversed. The nights were interspersed with intense moments of anguish. Thoughts of suicide crossed my mind. The haunting guilt and pain are difficult to exorcise.
Yet, I have derived from them the strength to live on. In the drug rehabilitation centre where I am now, many former addicts have shared their stories with me. All the accounts invariably end with a desire to make restitution to those who have been hurt. I cannot cause more sorrows to my parents. Rather than choosing a road to perdition, I have decided to complete my remaining journey with dignity. Obstacles will arise along the way, but I am prepared to face them. Indeed, the price for taking drugs is too high to pay and they must be shunned without hesitation.
1 AIDS is the acronym for Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome
2 HIV stands for Human Immunodeficiency Virus
20100511
Liviu Librescu
by Cassy Tischer, Skutt Catholic High School
9-10th Grade Category
Moral courage is a trait that is talked of frequently, but one becomes confused as to what a person with moral courage looks like, sounds like, or does. Moral courage requires and calls for all people to stand on the side of truth, even if they stand alone, and to speak up when they believe something is wrong. Each person who possesses moral courage has a story, but Liviu Librescu’s story touched a certain
place in my heart and stood out amidst all the rest. Librescu was among the few lucky people to actually survive the Holocaust, but he gave up his life willingly to protect his students and keep them alive. He stood up for what he knew was right and possessed courage in a situation where there was nothing but chaos.In the midst of World War II, Liviu Librescu was forced to witness his family being torn apart
(Moynihan). After being placed in several ghettos and moving around to a variety of places, his family was later reunited (Holland). Upon marrying and starting a family, Liviu immigrated to Israel in 1978 with his wife, who was also a Holocaust survivor (Moynihan). The family then moved to the U.S. where Librescu was a researcher and lecturer in engineering, along with having a degree in aeronautics
(Moynihan). Librescu became a professor at the college of Virginia Tech. After teaching there for years,the terrible day of April 16th, 2007 came along (Moynihan). A troubled young student attacked the school and started shooting innocent people. In the shooters’ two attacks, he made his way to Librescu’s room.Librescu directed his students to jump out of the window to safety while he barricaded the door with his body to prevent the shooter from getting inside (Holland). He saved many lives that day as he selflessly gave up his own. Liviu Librescu sacrificed his life in order to protect the students he taught. He did the only thing he knew how to do; it was a natural instinct. A young student by the name of Ms. Merrey said, “We had
heard the gunfire coming from the classroom behind us, and we just reacted to it and headed for the windows, Professor Librescu never made an attempt to leave. He’s a part of my life now and forever. I’m changed. I’m not the person I was before Monday.” (Moynihan) He not only affected the people whom he saved, but he also left a memorable mark upon anyone who knew him. Librescu was said to have been a brave man, and one who would never back down from helping those in need (Moynihan). He survived the Holocaust, and after, one would think that he would do anything to keep his life, but instead he saw the need to be the hero to those kids. He was not only doing what he thought was right, he was doing what he believed was his job. His heroic act brought hope to many people around the world. Liviu Lebrescu’s sacrifices not only affected the Virginia Tech population, but it also affected those outside of Virginia. His courage has influenced people today to take a stand and to speak up for what is right. His act was one out of a million, but has continued to help the people of today, and I am sure his story will go on for quite sometime. Many people could have died that day, but instead lives were saved because of his selflessness.
I have heard of many amazing people and people that are full of courage, but this story touched me deeply. It goes to show that no matter how persecuted someone has been, and how much they have been through, they can still find the power within themselves to save others. His story has inspired me to
“reap what I sow”, so to speak, and to treat others the way I want to be treated. When I first started to attend a Catholic school I was told that we would have to do a certain amount of service hours to graduate. My initial reaction was to groan and get them done as soon as possible. After doing my required hours, I came to like doing service. I was urged to step out of my comfort zone and work with those who
were less fortunate. I have taken these opportunities to enjoy helping people. Seeing the faces of the people I have worked with and seeing their response to my work and knowing that they are thankful, is one of the best feelings I have ever felt. Knowing that one man alone can save a whole classroom of students’ gives me hope that the things I am doing will in the end help those in need. I hope that one day I can also look back and say that I made a difference because I wanted to, not just because I was required to do so. Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.
-Maya Angelou
Bibliography
Holland, G.K. The Star Walker of the Month. June 2007. http://www.thestarwalkers.com.
Moynihan, Colin. “Professor’s Violent Death Came Where He Sought Peace.” New York
Times. April 19, 2007.
9-10th Grade Category
Moral courage is a trait that is talked of frequently, but one becomes confused as to what a person with moral courage looks like, sounds like, or does. Moral courage requires and calls for all people to stand on the side of truth, even if they stand alone, and to speak up when they believe something is wrong. Each person who possesses moral courage has a story, but Liviu Librescu’s story touched a certain
place in my heart and stood out amidst all the rest. Librescu was among the few lucky people to actually survive the Holocaust, but he gave up his life willingly to protect his students and keep them alive. He stood up for what he knew was right and possessed courage in a situation where there was nothing but chaos.In the midst of World War II, Liviu Librescu was forced to witness his family being torn apart
(Moynihan). After being placed in several ghettos and moving around to a variety of places, his family was later reunited (Holland). Upon marrying and starting a family, Liviu immigrated to Israel in 1978 with his wife, who was also a Holocaust survivor (Moynihan). The family then moved to the U.S. where Librescu was a researcher and lecturer in engineering, along with having a degree in aeronautics
(Moynihan). Librescu became a professor at the college of Virginia Tech. After teaching there for years,the terrible day of April 16th, 2007 came along (Moynihan). A troubled young student attacked the school and started shooting innocent people. In the shooters’ two attacks, he made his way to Librescu’s room.Librescu directed his students to jump out of the window to safety while he barricaded the door with his body to prevent the shooter from getting inside (Holland). He saved many lives that day as he selflessly gave up his own. Liviu Librescu sacrificed his life in order to protect the students he taught. He did the only thing he knew how to do; it was a natural instinct. A young student by the name of Ms. Merrey said, “We had
heard the gunfire coming from the classroom behind us, and we just reacted to it and headed for the windows, Professor Librescu never made an attempt to leave. He’s a part of my life now and forever. I’m changed. I’m not the person I was before Monday.” (Moynihan) He not only affected the people whom he saved, but he also left a memorable mark upon anyone who knew him. Librescu was said to have been a brave man, and one who would never back down from helping those in need (Moynihan). He survived the Holocaust, and after, one would think that he would do anything to keep his life, but instead he saw the need to be the hero to those kids. He was not only doing what he thought was right, he was doing what he believed was his job. His heroic act brought hope to many people around the world. Liviu Lebrescu’s sacrifices not only affected the Virginia Tech population, but it also affected those outside of Virginia. His courage has influenced people today to take a stand and to speak up for what is right. His act was one out of a million, but has continued to help the people of today, and I am sure his story will go on for quite sometime. Many people could have died that day, but instead lives were saved because of his selflessness.
I have heard of many amazing people and people that are full of courage, but this story touched me deeply. It goes to show that no matter how persecuted someone has been, and how much they have been through, they can still find the power within themselves to save others. His story has inspired me to
“reap what I sow”, so to speak, and to treat others the way I want to be treated. When I first started to attend a Catholic school I was told that we would have to do a certain amount of service hours to graduate. My initial reaction was to groan and get them done as soon as possible. After doing my required hours, I came to like doing service. I was urged to step out of my comfort zone and work with those who
were less fortunate. I have taken these opportunities to enjoy helping people. Seeing the faces of the people I have worked with and seeing their response to my work and knowing that they are thankful, is one of the best feelings I have ever felt. Knowing that one man alone can save a whole classroom of students’ gives me hope that the things I am doing will in the end help those in need. I hope that one day I can also look back and say that I made a difference because I wanted to, not just because I was required to do so. Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.
-Maya Angelou
Bibliography
Holland, G.K. The Star Walker of the Month. June 2007. http://www.thestarwalkers.com.
Moynihan, Colin. “Professor’s Violent Death Came Where He Sought Peace.” New York
Times. April 19, 2007.
20100510
Mother's Day
bY Rashmi Singh, 11-year-old, South Dartmouth.
Mother's Day to me is a day that I like to think purely about my mother. Whenever I think I get so "flooded" with what my mother has done for us . . .
Teaching my sister and me to read (my brother is just beginning). Washing the dishes. Doing the laundry. Dropping us to school. Taking me to my piano lessons. Taking my sister to ballet lessons. Dropping me to the Southworth Library most any time that is reasonable, and when I want to go. Attending concerts. I've listed only a few, but these tasks seem overwhelming to me! I'm just left in a daze.
My mother and I enjoy talking about so many issues . . . from "How was school?" to downright politics.
I wonder if God gave my mom two brains instead of one! I mean, my mom can dry the dishes while still paying attention to the news!
My mother is very special to me because she taught me all the virtues of being a good person. Sincerity, honesty, forgiveness, persistence, tolerance, and fairness. She taught me to be kind and caring. To work hard and do your duties, don't worry about the results. To be generous and giving. To be patient.
So whenever I see these things being done, I always remember my mother. She is my friend, my teacher, she is my Earth. She has resources . . . like this planet -- Earth.
But how to pay her back for all the things she has done for us? I don't know. She has done so much for us! But I will try to make all 365 days Mother's Day by helping her. What I really want to say to her is: "THANK YOU, MOM!"
-- RASHMI SINGH
Mother's Day to me is a day that I like to think purely about my mother. Whenever I think I get so "flooded" with what my mother has done for us . . .
Teaching my sister and me to read (my brother is just beginning). Washing the dishes. Doing the laundry. Dropping us to school. Taking me to my piano lessons. Taking my sister to ballet lessons. Dropping me to the Southworth Library most any time that is reasonable, and when I want to go. Attending concerts. I've listed only a few, but these tasks seem overwhelming to me! I'm just left in a daze.
My mother and I enjoy talking about so many issues . . . from "How was school?" to downright politics.
I wonder if God gave my mom two brains instead of one! I mean, my mom can dry the dishes while still paying attention to the news!
My mother is very special to me because she taught me all the virtues of being a good person. Sincerity, honesty, forgiveness, persistence, tolerance, and fairness. She taught me to be kind and caring. To work hard and do your duties, don't worry about the results. To be generous and giving. To be patient.
So whenever I see these things being done, I always remember my mother. She is my friend, my teacher, she is my Earth. She has resources . . . like this planet -- Earth.
But how to pay her back for all the things she has done for us? I don't know. She has done so much for us! But I will try to make all 365 days Mother's Day by helping her. What I really want to say to her is: "THANK YOU, MOM!"
-- RASHMI SINGH
20100506
Green Teens
Iris R. Nunez, age 16 – Easing the “Pain” of Pollution
Murry Bergtraum High School
Manhattan
“Planting trees is one of the most beneficial, wonderful and cost-effective ways to ease the pain of pollution, ozone depletion and urban blight. With these trees, we are cleaning our air, beautifying our environment, and reducing the pollution that is bad for our bodies.”
Daniell Martinez, age 16 – “It’s Up to Us, New York!”
High School for Health Profession and Human Services
Manhattan
“I will try my best to help Mayor Bloomberg implement his initiative to plant one million trees by 2017… If everyone in New York planted at least one tree, Mayor Bloomberg’s plan will be a success. It’s up to us New York!”
Nedine Dobson, age 17 – A “Melting Pot of Beautiful People” with Beautiful Trees
Clara Barton High School
Brooklyn
“Each school district should be responsible for involving each school in the district to embark on a go green project. The project will require groups of students to be responsible for the design of areas in their school district to plant trees… this initiative promises to make New York, with its melting pot of beautiful people, a garden of beautiful trees.”
Eric Murray Datcher, age 16
Bushwick High School for Social Justice
Brooklyn
“The key to the Mayor’s plan is involving the youth of New York City. There are young people throughout the city who are simply waiting for an opportunity to make a major change. The Million Trees project could be that change to unite the youth in a positive project… I believe I can use my strong voice to gather more students, young people, and community members to beautify more places throughout New York City.”
Oytun Tangul, age 18
New York University
Manhattan
“I believe that I, and any other teenager, can help Mayor Bloomberg to achieve his goal by volunteering to help plant trees. I can help serve my community and my future by doing this. This project can actually be fun. I will get to meet new friends. I can tell my current friends about it and we can all plan to help our society together. By volunteering to plant trees, not only will I be helping Mayor Bloomberg to put his initiative into effect, but I will also be helping myself by choosing to do something rewarding and supportive for my future and the future of my potential children.”
Jamel Irby-Shabazz, age 12
Park Place Middle School
Brooklyn
“Every month we will get teens to sign up as a special citizenship program with the NYC Parks Department to help plant trees. Teens will then make a difference in their community and experience something positive in their community. The teens will also be able to place their family name on the trees… I also believe that a million trees will equal a million healthy breaths. A million healthy breaths can help a brain learn and be more conscious about the environment in which we live.”
Murry Bergtraum High School
Manhattan
“Planting trees is one of the most beneficial, wonderful and cost-effective ways to ease the pain of pollution, ozone depletion and urban blight. With these trees, we are cleaning our air, beautifying our environment, and reducing the pollution that is bad for our bodies.”
Daniell Martinez, age 16 – “It’s Up to Us, New York!”
High School for Health Profession and Human Services
Manhattan
“I will try my best to help Mayor Bloomberg implement his initiative to plant one million trees by 2017… If everyone in New York planted at least one tree, Mayor Bloomberg’s plan will be a success. It’s up to us New York!”
Nedine Dobson, age 17 – A “Melting Pot of Beautiful People” with Beautiful Trees
Clara Barton High School
Brooklyn
“Each school district should be responsible for involving each school in the district to embark on a go green project. The project will require groups of students to be responsible for the design of areas in their school district to plant trees… this initiative promises to make New York, with its melting pot of beautiful people, a garden of beautiful trees.”
Eric Murray Datcher, age 16
Bushwick High School for Social Justice
Brooklyn
“The key to the Mayor’s plan is involving the youth of New York City. There are young people throughout the city who are simply waiting for an opportunity to make a major change. The Million Trees project could be that change to unite the youth in a positive project… I believe I can use my strong voice to gather more students, young people, and community members to beautify more places throughout New York City.”
Oytun Tangul, age 18
New York University
Manhattan
“I believe that I, and any other teenager, can help Mayor Bloomberg to achieve his goal by volunteering to help plant trees. I can help serve my community and my future by doing this. This project can actually be fun. I will get to meet new friends. I can tell my current friends about it and we can all plan to help our society together. By volunteering to plant trees, not only will I be helping Mayor Bloomberg to put his initiative into effect, but I will also be helping myself by choosing to do something rewarding and supportive for my future and the future of my potential children.”
Jamel Irby-Shabazz, age 12
Park Place Middle School
Brooklyn
“Every month we will get teens to sign up as a special citizenship program with the NYC Parks Department to help plant trees. Teens will then make a difference in their community and experience something positive in their community. The teens will also be able to place their family name on the trees… I also believe that a million trees will equal a million healthy breaths. A million healthy breaths can help a brain learn and be more conscious about the environment in which we live.”
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