Kraft magazine 2.0

Writing as CraftTaught by Courtney Rein

Staff Writers and Designers:

Holly AndersonJack ArmstrongAustin Brenner

Cameron GalleyAriane Goldsmith

Zachary KimMeredith Lee

Dustin J MagidsonMaximillian McAllister

Julia MorniniJackson Plut

Max Rickert-WongAndrew SilerLeo Weisman

KraftSince 2015

Writing as CraftTable of Contents

“Drummer Magidson”by Julia MorniniTiny Profile

“2nd Amendment – 1st Priority” by Jack ArmstrongOp-Ed

“Deadly Knife”by Leo Weisman Amazon Ad

“Wings” by Leo WeismanMicrofiction

Microfiction by Max Ricket-WongMad Max

“Unnecessary Work” by Zach KimTiny Profile

“Very Progressive” by Andrew SilerTiny Profile

“Pure Bliss” by Max Ricket-WongAmazon Ad

“Holly Anderson”by Ariane GoldsmithTiny Profile

“Playing in Shackles” by Austin BrennerOp-Ed“Life is a Lot Like Jazz” by Dustin J MagidsonProfile

“Subterranean Subtotals” by Max McAllisterMicrofiction

“No Free Rides” by Cameron GalleyProfile

“Be Real, Show Emotion” by Ariane Goldsmith Op-Ed

“Smog” by Jake PlutMicrofiction

“Supergirl” by Meredith LeeProfile

“The Leap” by Holly AndersonMicrofiction“Lucy: Foreign Familiarity”by Cameron GalleyExpository Essay

“Behind Bars” by Meredith LeeMicrofiction

“Winter is Comingby Andrew SilerAmazon Ad

“Archer Zero” by Julia MorniniMicrofiction

“Remembering” by Dustin J MagidsonMicrofiction

“Lucy: Bad Blood, BreakingBonds” by Jake PlutExpository Essay

“Sick Cans” by Austin BrennerAmazon Review

“The School That Changed Her” by Holly AndersonProfile

“Self Sticks”by Zachary KimAmazon Review

“Dear Beauty Besties” by Holly AndersonOp-Ed

5S E C T I O N N A M E

B u s i n e s s M a g a z i n e | A p r i l 2 0 11

I barely hear the click as the door slides shut, but I have just left behind the only high school I have known for the past three years. I leave behind the carpeted floors, the grey pentagon tables, the spacious, unlocked, blue and grey lockers, and 400 students. I wait for the 6 bus and my leg shakes as I keep check-ing the bus times–I am late. As the 6 slides around the corner, a sigh of relief escapes from my mouth. One rattley and jerky bus ride and a bus transfer later, I finally arrive. This is the journey that most Low-ell students experience every day on their way to school. As I nervously walk into the school, the only high school I have ever known is replaced by tiny, shared, red, square lockers, hard, brown linoleum floors, and students, whose black hoodies and hair all blend together, who I glance at once and never see again for the rest of the day. There I meet her. Mayra Alejandra Chang wears a chunky, grey sweater, black leggings, black combat boots, and a light blue satchel. Her straight, long black hair is half-up in two braids and half-down. She wears minimal makeup: neat, light brown eyeliner, without a wing, and black mascara. Despite her short stature, she struts over excitedly and confidently like she owns the school. Her mouth is open in a friendly smile. From her mannerisms to her clothing, every-thing about Mayra depicts her as casual and free. However, I watch as her carefree attitude and chip-per personality are eroded by the way she checks the time, how others constantly interrupt her while she is answering my questions, and her

The School That Changed HerBy Holly Anderson

6 S E C T I O N N A M E


frustrated comment, “I start school at 7:35 and end everyday at 3:30. And if I have clubs, I stay here until 5 or 6.” She complains about “Lowell’s competitive culture…where kids are really judgmental like ‘oh yeah, I scored this.’ We always talk about grades.” Her sparkly attitude is over-shadowed by the students sleeping on top of their books at lunch, stu-dents not interacting with one an-other as they speed walk from class to class before the bell rings, and the sea of dull black and grey clothing. Wow, there are so many students. Going from 400 students to 2,648 is like going from ounces to pounds. While observing the students, I am hit by style shock. I notice that the click clack of heels and wedges, have been replaced by the thud of black converse, white vans, and grey tennis shoes. In-stead of Northface Odysseys, I see Longchamp purses. Instead of fancy leather and suede jackets, I see black and grey Nike hoodies. But the big-gest difference is the increase of people with black hair, causing me

to question, “What’s the diversity like at Lowell?” Mayra wrinkles her brow and says, “Diversity is kind of a problem at Lowell. I think the school’s about 80 percent Asian and there’re a lot of White people.” I question if Mayra knows everyone in her school. She frowns and re-sponds, “No. There’s kind of a grade divide and you barely know people in your own grade. The only way to meet people from other grades is through clubs and sports.” Her voice drops as she struggles to talk over the infinite different conversations happening in the hallway as she ad-mits, “I felt so bad because my friend transferred to SH and I didn’t know [because] I didn’t have classes with her, and then I found out that she transferred and...I was...heartbro-ken and I felt like a terrible friend.” In such a big school, one may ques-tion if students break down into cliques as a small school like Urban does. Mayra laughs, displaying her dimpled cheeks, “Of course! You have the preppy kids, the popular group, the rich White and Asian

kids, the hype beasts, etc. Cliques here are stronger because you can’t know everyone in the school and because everyone has different lunch periods, you schedule your lunch periods with you friends.” It is now 12:30, signaling the end of lunch and the start of 6th period. Not only is the social scene dif-ferent, but the classroom atmosphere is nowhere like Urban’s. Thirty kids quickly pile into confining, uncom-fortable, solo, and solid desks of an AP U.S. History (APUSH) class. The chairs are attached to the desks, in-hibiting the students from reclining like many Urban students love to do. The chunkiness of the desks in-hibit the students from rearranging their chairs for group work. Instead, the students have to twist and turn in their seats to talk to one anoth-er, only finding comfort by putting their feet up on the bottom of the chair in front of them. Mayra has to sit backwards just to talk to me. She giggles as she describes the desks as “not that comfortable, but okay,” as if she never thought about the pos-sibility of the desks being anything more comfortable. Lowell never asks their students for their opin-ions on their desks like Urban does. Mayra’s teacher is dressed in a dark blue button-up dress shirt dress shirt with a tie. The interac-tions between teachers and students are so formal that they seem un-comfortable. Unlike Urban teachers who laugh with students and lean towards them as they talk, Lowell teachers stand two steps away from their students and smile and laugh with only a select few. When asked if she feels comfortable asking her teachers for help, Mayra nonchalant-ly admits, “If I have questions I usu-ally ask my friends first. Depending on the subject, I don’t mind asking my teachers for help. I will go ask my



APUSH teacher questions during his office hours and he’s nice about it, but I don’t like my math teacher so I wouldn’t ask him for help.” Un-like the cheery and friendly Urban teachers, Mayra quietly describes many of her teachers as “mean. But sometimes at Lowell, a teacher has to be mean for the students to listen and respect them because of the big class sizes.” The teaching philoso-phies of an Urban teacher and a Low-ell teacher are complete opposites. Mayra’s teacher tells the class to each grab a tiny black chrome lap-top from the laptop carts and work on their presentations. The first five minutes of class are spent grabbing a computer, logging into that com-puter, and finding their presenta-tion, a task Urban students do not struggle with because they own personal computers. Students are asked to give presentations where they “Evaluate how successful the Eisenhower administration was at addressing the cold war fears of the American people in the aftermath of the Second World War,” while Urban asks students to “Analyze the nature of the Iranian Revolution. Is it regressive or progressive, modern or archaic, a step forward or back?;” a factual assignment versus an ana-lytical assignment. Lowell classes are not full of discussions, but in-stead Mayra states, busily working on her project at the same time, that “the teacher will go over the text and then he’ll ask questions, but it’s not a full on discussion, it’s just people volunteering to answer. We don’t re-ally talk about our opinions on the text.” Urban values class discussions highly and teachers will remove themselves to encourage student conversations. Finally, Urban tries very hard to allow students to take the classes they want, but at Low-ell, students choose classes through

a process called Arena. The home-rooms are organized in an order that cycles through, and the first home-rooms get to choose classes first. If a class is filled up before a later home-room gets to pick, then those stu-dents either cannot take that class or have to take the class with a “bad teacher.” That is the price of going to a big school with limited resources.

Urban has fewer limits be-cause Urban charges tuition, while Lowell does not. I chose to interview Mayra because she got accepted by Lick-Wilmerding High School, but had to refuse because she did not get enough financial aid. When asked if she would have chosen to go to a private school, she sincerely confesses, “I would’ve gone. I think public schools are underfunded. I feel like private schools have more opportunities because of clubs and activities. And the small classes al-low teachers to give you more atten-tion.” When I asked Mayra’s friends what they thought about private schools, none of them hesitated to wrinkle their brows and question, “I don’t understand why it costs so much.” Mayra’s friend Danley, who was accepted by Urban, drags her voice saying, “My parents put the money they would’ve spent on me going to a private school into skat-

ing lessons for me because skating is expensive.” Other Lowell parents put that same money towards their child’s new blue Honda or black Mercedes Benz or their LongChamp purses. As a result, each student, including Mayra, admitted that in the future, they would “rather go to a big public college than a small private college after going to pub-lic school for [their] whole life,” while many Urban students choose to go to a private college after go-ing to private school for their entire life. I began to feel like Urban and Lowell had nothing in common. However, I realized that even though Urban is a small private school and Lowell is a huge public school, Urban and Lowell have the same aura. Just like at Urban, fresh-man take over a hallway by sitting and eating lunch with their backs against lockers. Students choose whether or not to eat their rice and sausage lunch or study. People are separated by cliques. Mayra even il-lustrated Lowell’s coffee culture as, “You always see people with coffee. People usually get here really early in the morning like 7:30 and then people don’t usually go to sleep un-til midnight”--a common image at Urban. I saw students filling up blue one quart Nalgenes and oth-ers drinking out of S’well bottles in all different kinds of patterns and colors. Both schools struggle with diversity. Even though Urban claims that their classes are aimed at improving a student’s under-standing and not the AP, many, if not all, Urban and Lowell students end up taking at least one AP test. Although Urban and Lowell may seem like two different universes, if one ignored the AP test prep class-es, ethnic makeup, and the $45,000 tuition, the students’ personalities and actions are almost identical.

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Holly FlowersBy Ariane Goldsmith

Smiling as brightly as her dress is blue, Holly’s eyes dart away quickly from our eye contact. She seems embarrassed despite her bold clothing and sparkling nose ring. A different Holly blooms in warm weather – floral, summery, upbeat.

“Because of the San Francisco weather, I don’t get to wear dresses often,” admits Holly, look-ing down at the cobalt and white pattern covering her body. “But I’m most comfortable in a dress with spandex underneath. I definitely prefer warm weather.”

Despite her floralTIn sundress, Holly describes her style as “mostly black and white – simple.” On her feet are blindingly white platform sneakers. She remembers finding them in the clearance sec-tion of the Steve Madden store because she “needed white sneakers” and she’s “short.”

It can be easy for Urban students to become lost amid infinite floral fabrics, white sneakers, and nose rings, but Holly knows what she likes and thrives within the parameters of what Urban students con-sider to be “stylish.”

“I like how people dress at Urban,” she declares, smiling. “I remember seeing Alana Shepherd when I was a freshman and she was a senior. She had a nose piercing and I thought she looked so cool. All my cousins have their noses pierced too, so I got mine done a few months ago.”

Holly is self-assured by her cobalt dress. She effortlessly adopts the styles of others and still feels like herself. But despite one shining facial accessory, she detests the one atop the bridge of her nose: her glasses.

“I wear them for class and I hate them. I just can’t see the board,” admits Holly. “I don’t think I look good in them, but they’re colorful.”



Drummer Magidson!By Julia Mornini

Dustin Magidson is the kind of guy who you see walking down the street and you declare, “that guy’s favorite color must be yellow”, you know? And you would be right. Mr. Magidson informed me in our interview that the idea of having a favorite color is somewhat childish to him, since, as he put it, “it’s only a pig-ment”. He does prefer the color yellow, however, and showed it off today with the yellow belt he was wearing with his pants. Despite this, yellow has not always been his favorite.

Mr. Magidson seems very calm at first, but he secretly break the rules and is unique. In middle school, Mr. Magidson informed me that his favorite color used to be purple, as he thought that he should try to subvert the idea of purple being a girly color by being attuned to it himself. As another example of our interviewee’s excep-tional uniqueness, Mr. Magidson informed me that, when he started out in Intro to Jazz Band in 9th grade at Urban, he was the only drum player in the class, allowing him to play a lot of music during that class.

In fact, Mr. Magidson has been drumming it up with the world’s greatest jazz band, The Urban Advanced Big Band since that time, and before that, played drums with his own middle school’s jazz band. Dustin’s an independent guy - there’s no one else like him. He won’t take just one snare drum - he needs a drum set to be at his most prolific. That’s how you know that he is one hundred percent badass.



To the New York Times Editorial Board,

I am a senior in high school

and I am scared, scared of the

massacres that have become

routine in America. During school,

I am nervous that someone

could spontaneously pull out a

lethal weapon at any moment. In

movie theaters, I constantly check

behind me for even the slightest

hand movements. Even walking

down the street, I am scared of the

power every stranger has to end

my life with the flex of their index

finger. The worst part is, it feels

like each day is even more dan-

gerous than the previous. Guns

are becoming easier to obtain and

massacres are becoming more

and more common. Children

under the age of 15 are nine times

more likely to die from a gun acci-

dent in the United States than in

other developed countries. So, I

ask the citizens and lawmakers

of the United States, when are

we going to do something about

gun violence in our country?

There is a saying that guns

don’t kill people, people kill

people. The Editorial’s refutation

against this phrase – “motives

don’t matter to the dead” – is truly

admirable. In any mass shooting,

the intentions of the criminal are

irrelevant when innocent people

are lying on the ground with bullet

SECOND AMENDMENT, FIRST PRIORITY



In any mass shooting, the intentions of the

criminal are irrelevant when innocent people

are lying on the ground ...

holes in their back. However, what

is relevant in such tragedies is the

fact that each and every one of

the deaths could have been pre-

vented. I think most Americans

would agree that if Adam

Lanza walked into Sandy Hook

Elementary with nothing but his

fists, he would not have caused

nearly as much damage. Without

guns, criminals are restricted

to the harm they can cause. We

must realize that while people

do, in fact, kill people, America’s

death toll would be far less horri-

fying. The most obvious solution

would be to take guns out of the

hand’s of America’s sick-minded

people and criminals, while simul-

taneously maintaining the right

of innocent citizens to “keep and

bear arms.” The only issue with

this solution is that almost all

guns used in criminal acts “enter

circulation via initial legal trans-

action.” With firearms being dis-

tributed legally across the United

States, it can only be a matter of

time before criminals use them for

their own violent purposes. Even

if we figured out a way to detect

which citizens were truly criminals

and which were truly innocent,

the guns would still always end

up in the hands of the criminals.

I also agree with your idea that

it is “a moral outrage and national

disgrace” that some of the guns

being legally purchased are

“weapons designed to kill people

with brutal speed and efficiency.”

It is no coincidence that when

high capacity magazines are used

in mass shootings, the death rate

increases by an average of 63%

and the injury rate rose by an

average of 156%. Normal guns

can turn a criminal into a killer. A

high capacity magazine can turn

a criminal into a killing machine,

and they are completely unneces-

sary for any legal and/or protec-

tive uses. Even less powerful guns

are needed for protective pur-

poses. Between 2007 and 2011

only 0.79% of people involved in

violent crimes used a firearm as

a protective device. I too believe

that “slightly modified combat

rifles used in California must be

outlawed for civilian ownership.”

I personally agree with almost

every point made throughout the

entire article. That is, however,

until you bring up the issue of the

Second Amendment. You briefly

mention it by saying that it is “not

necessary to debate its peculiar



wording.” That is where your argu-

ment is flawed. In fact, gun control

has everything to do with the

peculiar wording of the Second

Amendment. I will say that it feels

odd that the founding fathers of

our great nation would make it

their second priority to give each

individual the right to own a

gun. But that doesn’t mean there

wasn’t any method behind this

madness. I think a lot of people

in modern America don’t truly

understand the purpose of the

Second Amendment or why it was

originally put in place. The United

States was founded because the

American colonists were fed up

being ruled by a tyrannical gov-

ernment that was based over 3,000

miles away. People shouldn’t be

afraid of their governments; gov-

ernments should be afraid of their

people. The Founding Fathers of

the United States recognized that

the citizens of their nation should

have the ability to perform a fear

provoking revolution without

being repressed by their own

government. I I believe that the

Founding Fathers never intended

on the federal government ever

having as much power as it does

today and enforcing gun control

laws would give them even more

power. A large reason America is

the most successful country the

world is because of the power

it gives to its citizens. Once that

power is taken away, Americans

lose their freedom and belief in

what it means to be American.

Last year, former Supreme

Court of the United States justice

John Paul Stevens wrote an op-ed

piece in the Washington Post dis-

cussing the idea that the Second

Amendment should be rewrit-

ten. He suggested that the second

amendment read: “A well regu-

lated Militia, being necessary to

the security of a free State, the

right of the people to keep and

bear Arms when serving in the

Militia shall not be infringed.”

However, adding those five words



to the amendment would com-

pletely defeat its purpose. In only

giving the militia the right to

guns the country would be doing

exactly the opposite of what the

founding fathers wanted. In a

sense, we would be giving them

all the power we have.

So yes, I agree with your stance

on gun control in many aspects.

And yes, I am afraid of how

easy it is to be killed by a fellow

citizen in today’s society. But that

fear is miniscule in comparison

to my fear of the government

taking control. Imagine living in

a country where the people do

what the government tells them

and only what the government

tells them – a country where cit-

izens are punished for speaking

freely with violence. While these

outcomes aren’t likely, the second

amendment guarantees that

such outcome can’t happen. So

the next time you argue for gun

control, you cannot brush off the

wording of the second amend-

ment like it’s irrelevant. It is one

of the most important parts of the

Constitution and without it, who

knows where this country would

be today?

By Jack Armstrong

All statistics from gun-control.

procon.org





I remember the wind was the worst part. Always there, blowing sand in places that sand was not sup-posed to be. I remember driving, we would all ride together, like out of a movie we would appear and disappear. Even the kids rode together in their own little cars that they would build themselves. I remember the sunburns and parched lips, the dry elbows and dry throats. Hours spent riding looking for even a drop, anything to survive. I remember fighting, arguments over who owned what, who got what car, and who got the first sip. It became violent, gangs would come, we would defend what we could, but others got hurt. I remember killing, they would threaten my family, so I would do whatever I needed to survive. I would start hunting them, I lost part of myself, but kept the ones I loved safe. I remember grieving, I was not strong enough, they got to you before I did, I’m sorry. They are gone now, but so are you, so now I ride. I remember leaving, putting everything in my truck and driving off, I did not look back. I cannot live a normal life now, I remember every second, I’m thirsty.

-Max RicketWong



WingsA microfiction by Leo Weisman

How long it takes to go over pre-mission brief: 2 hours. How long it takes to fuel up F/A-18: 14 minutes. How long it takes to load plane with armament: 38 minutes. How long it takes to climb into cockpit: 40 seconds. How long it takes to complete pre-flight diagnostics: 8 minutes. How long it takes to take off from aircraft carrier: 4 seconds. How long it takes to fly 450km to target: 14 minutes. How long it takes to identify target: 3 minutes. How long it takes to activate targeting laser: 5 minutes. How long it takes to lock target: 15 seconds. How long it takes to obtain permission to engage: 1 minute. How long it takes electrical impulses from firing controls to activate AGM-65 Maverick missile: 3/100 of a second.

How long it takes AGM-65 Maverick missile to strike target 4km away: 12.5 seconds. How long it takes warhead to detonate: 2 milliseconds after impact.

How long it takes fuel tank of target vehicle to explode: 11 milliseconds after impact.

How long it takes occupants of target vehicle to die: 13 milliseconds after impact.

How long it takes to obtain visual confirmation of target hit: 25 seconds. How long it takes to relay infor-mation back to carriercommand: 45 seconds. How long it takes to vector F/A-18 back towards carrier: 15 seconds. How long it takes depleted F/A-18 to fly 450km back to carrier: 11 minutes. How long it takes to complete carrier landing: 2 minutes. How long it takes to complete post-flight diagnostics and exit cockpit: 5 minutes. How long it takes to debrief with command: 1.5 hours. How long it takes to eat dinner after mission: 40 minutes.

How long it takes to close eyes in bed: 1 second.

How long it takes to fall asleep that night: too long.



Very ProgressiveBy Andrew Siler

Leo Weisman, a senior at the Urban School of San Francisco, is a conservative in

an overwhelmingly liberal space. Well, not necessarily “conservative,” but further right

than all but a few of Urban’s students. The more accurate term might be “libertarian.” If

we’re looking at a national scale of Red vs. Blue, he ends up somewhere in the middle.

Strangely enough, he arrived at Urban in 2012 considering himself a liberal. He

supported Obama in both of his elections, and like many Urban students, “didn’t give

much of a shit about politics.” However, like any other high school student, his political

opinions have transformed during his four years in high school. He has shifted to the

right, and in such a progressive environment, it can seem like sharing his opinions does

more harm than good. It is almost impossible to have meaningful debate without antago-

nizing his fellow classmates, so he has learned to “keep his mouth shut.” How Urban can

encourage meaningful debate will be determined in the years to come.



Unnecessary WorkBy Zachary Kim

She sits there with a faint smirk, then laughs once I ask: “Sports. Have you played them?”

“Sports, sports, sports! I haven’t played sports seriously.” She chuckles a bit as she dis-

cusses her free time: Gaming, Reddit (on gaming-themed topics), TV, procrastination,

and occasionally homework. She comfortably reclines further in her chair, eyes crinkled as if part

of a relaxed smile. I almost ask if she willfully avoids exercise, but she interjects: “I would take

PE if it was offered.” Julia Mornini has not played sports since middle school; her entire orga-

nized sports career is a single month of basketball. But sometime between the structure of middle

school and the freedom of high school, she stopped seriously exercising. “I stopped being good at

running.” She looks up to make sure I caught that. Once sports were no longer merely competi-

tions of natural advantages, and effort became important, Julia quit. “I couldn’t get motivated”,

she says as she looks away and folds a wad of paper into a little ball. Why do work that is neither

necessary nor satisfying? Running would compete with Reddit, and Reddit is hardly necessary,

but much more satisfying than running. Julia speaks again: “I’m definitely lazy now, maybe not

back then.”



Dear College Admissions

Officers,

Every year, millions of high

school students take on the daunt-

ing task of applying to college.

Having just completed the college

application process myself, I am

no stranger to its nuances. Last

summer I participated in the

NYU Tisch Clive Davis Institute

of Recorded Music’s summer

high school program. This fall

I applied Early Decision to the

same program and received my

acceptance letter on December

15th. While the joy of my accep-

tance is undeniable, the feeling

has been growing in me that at

every step in the process, I have

reaped the benefits of an unfair

advantage. My family is upper

class and I have attended small

private schools for all of my life.

As a result, my college process

consisted of frequent meetings

with a counselor dealing with no

more than 50 students, parents to

help me sign up and send scores

for multiple SAT and ACT testing

dates, and the financial security to

apply to any college without aid

no matter the tuition. While these

privileges helped me get into my

dream college, I also know that

very few high school students

have this application experience.

P L AY I N G I N S H AC K L E S



At every step in the process, I have reaped the benefits of an unfair advantage...”

In fact, lower income applicants

are at a disadvantage during

many stages in the process.

It is no secret that college

tuition is becoming a big problem,

especially for low-income fami-

lies. Between 1971 and 2012, the

median income for men in the

U.S consistently tiptoed around

$33,000. In that same time frame,

the average annual tuition four-

year public universities quadru-

pled and the average annual

tuition for 4-year private univer-

sities increased by about $20,000.

The cost of college has become an

issue for everyone, and its burden

on low-income families has

become even heavier. Some stu-

dents have to completely throw

away their hopes of attending

certain universities just because

the tuition is out of their range—

it’s a travesty. If students are so

compelled to apply for financially

problematic schools, they must

receive a hefty, often out of reach,

financial aid package to even con-

sider enrolling.

I applied to NYU early deci-

sion because it gave me a better

chance of getting accepted to the

school. This decision was substan-

tiated only by the fact that my

family could afford to send me to

NYU without financial aid. Early

Decision, a financially binding

agreement, is mostly out of the

picture of low income fami-

lies because ED does not give

them the opportunity to weigh

aid packages between schools.

Therein lies a problem; students

who don’t need aid can apply

early decision to their favorite

college, and thus have a greater



of acceptance. For example,

University of Pennsylvania, the

prestigious Ivy League univer-

sity, has a 7.3% acceptance rate

for regular decision applicants.

However, Penn has a 25.2%

acceptance rate for early deci-

sion applicants and fills up 53.7%

of their class with early decision/

action students. Most colleges will

argue that early decision accep-

tances benefit them by securing a

certain portion of their class size,

as well as determining which stu-

dents really want to attend their

school. However, leaving out stu-

dents who need financial aid

unfairly favors wealthier families.

Instead, colleges should imple-

ment restricted early action, a

method Tulane uses. Restricted

early action is not binding, allow-

ing lower income students to

weight their financial aid offers

across schools. The only catch

with restricted early action is that

the student can only apply early

to that one school, indicating that

they strongly want to attend.

Another step in the college

application process tainted by

income inequality is standardized

testing. The SAT has been a staple

of the college application process

for decades. However, many

schools are starting to consider to

it obsolete and have abandoned

the test altogether. Colleges that

still require the exam argue that

it provides an equal platform for

each student’s knowledge to be

tested. The individual circum-

stances that affect grades and

GPA at each individual school do

not matter. However, experts and

some colleges are finding that

this is not the case. According to

data from the Wall Street Journal,

“Students from the wealthiest

families outscored those from the

poorest by just shy of 400 points.”

These results show just how dras-

tically economic inequality in the

college admissions process favors

wealthier families. While the

purpose of the test is to level the



playing field, lower income fami-

lies still play the game with shack-

les on. Throughout my standard-

ized test experience, I was able to

meet with an expensive private

tutor for ten two hour sessions, a

privilege that is completely out

of the question for most families.

Once again, I’m at an advantage.

Before the essays, test scores,

and applications are submitted,

our current system of college

admissions is failing low-income

high school students. Attending

college has become a vital creden-

tial for obtaining a career. Without

offering the same opportuni-

ties to kids of all economic back-

grounds, we are crippling them

later in life. There are flaws within

the system of college admissions

that can and need to be fixed. Our

future depends on it.



The dull brass saxophone is removed from the soft bed of the case. With care and consideration, the silver mouthpiece is cho-sen over the brass counterpart and is gen-tly inserted into the top of the curved horn. A piece of thin wood is held in place by the vintage ligature. The vibrations from a warm voice forces tone from the bell of the sax into a smooth major scale. After a brief pause, the golden metal bursts with the warm melody of Stevie Wonder’s “Creepin”. The tenor saxo-phone allows the player behind the instru-ment to express so much passion, and love for the art form of jazz music that he and his instru-ment are isolated from the rest of the world. From the bell of sax, down around the curved body, up past the intricate keys, through the old mouthpiece and beyond the wooden reed is the man David Boyce. His passion for music flows through him like his breath through his horn. In 1977, at the age of 11, Boyce picked up the tenor saxophone

for the first time, and since that moment he has been able to express himself through this curved piece of metal. At this time, he was living in Manhattan with his parents and sister, Lynn. As he got older he moved to New Rochelle, New York, and attended New Rochelle High School. But despite his con-tinued love of jazz music that he discovered at the age of 11, he was not convinced that music was a viable option as a career. Boyce attended Cornell University in order to take after his parents who both worked in Human Resources and get a degree from Cornell’s School of Industrial and Labor Relations. Go-ing into Cornell, Boyce admits, “I didn’t re-ally have a plan, actually.” He didn’t know whether he was going to use his degree from Cornell or not, but his goal “was to get out of school… because it was so grueling”. He graduated from Cornell University in 1988 with a Bachelor of Science in Industrial and Labor Relations and moved back to New York

Life is a Lot Like Jazz

It’s Best When You ImproviseBy Dustin J Magidson



In 2007 Boyce had his first child, Zuni. At this point in his life he was presented with a dif-ficult situation. He was not mak-ing enough money as a full time jazz musician in order to support a whole family. After graduating from Cornell University in (year he graduated), he taught Eng-lish and Physical Education in the New York City Public School Sys-tem before moving out to the Bay

Area in August 1989. Since he had done this before, he knew that he could pick this profession up once again. He taught in order to make money while the San Francisco jazz scene was slowly dying. Now that he had children he knew that he could return to this system of employment that he had been a part of earlier, so he began work-ing at Waldorf High School in 2006 and The Urban School in 2007. This

English or PE, he was able to teach his passion, music. With the ad-dition of the income from Wal-dorf High School and The Urban School, he was able to financially support his family. However, as San Francisco became more and more gentrified, the opportuni-ties to play music diminished dra-matically. Boyce was lucky enough to get to San Francisco before this change began, so he was able to secure a place in the San Francisco jazz world, but the op-portunities continue to dwindle. Combined with the jazz’s decreas-ing popularity over time, Boyce is fortunate to be able to perform as often as he does. He tends to gig “between 5-10 times a month” which both fuels his passion, but also makes some extra income. Boyce goes back and forth on whether he considers himself to be a jazz musician. The term “jazz” goes back to brothels in New Or-leans, Louisiana. Jazz (originally spelled “jass”) referred to having sex. In these brothels, the musi-cians played an early form of jazz music, and over time, the music they played became synonymous with the word itself. Many well-known and influential jazz musi-cians including, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Max Roach, and Randy Weston announced that they did not want to be associated with the origins of the word. At times in his life, Boyce has agreed with this thought, but generally returns to the term jazz because it is what is well known, and to abandon that name would isolate him from the already small jazz community. However, even if he were to abandon the title, he could never abandon the genre. He grew up with jazz music, and it has shaped who he has become. He reveals that the great jazz art-



them ‘cause they haven’t aban-doned me.” While at times he has rebelled against the genre name, he now declares, “I’m actually really proud to call myself a jazz musician.” No matter who he is playing with or what he is playing, Da-vid Boyce is obviously perfectly calm and at ease. No matter the tune he is playing, whether it is “Lonely Woman” by Horace Silver or “Walk Tall” by Cannonball Ad-derley, his love for the instrument and the art form speaks through the notes that he plays. When he enters a room for a rehearsal he greets his peers like it is an occa-sion. He offers a warm handshake and a “Hi, How are you?” His careful assembly of his tenor saxophone and the scales he runs before hopping into the first tune shows that he does not take rehears-als lightly. Every time he blows air through his sax it is not only practice, but also an opportunity for music. If he hits a wrong note he stops and apologizes, imply-ing that he has made a grave error.This is only in rehearsal, of course. He does not stop in concert. He is too invested in the music to ever stop. He doesn’t hit wrong notes, or if he does he plays it off so well no one would be able to tell. When in front of an audience, it is not the time to stop and fix things. It is the time to let the power and the meaning of the music sing through his tenor saxophone. It is time to let the musical breath out his lungs, penetrate the reed and mouth-piece, flow through the horn, and blast out bell of sax. Smooth, controlled, and passionate.





SubterraneanSubtotals

Total days spent living in the sewer: 7364. Total animal friends made: 3,760. Total animal friends eaten: 3,760. Total times almost drowned: 12,687. Total poops stepped in: 548,015. Total gallons of sewage water consumed: 43,702. Total amount of humans encoun-tered: 293. Total amount of regular people scared away: 293. Total hours slept: 671. Total times seen the sun: 12. Total hours spent above ground: 57. Total hot dogs stolen from hotdog carts: 298. Total times caught stealing hotdogs: 287. Total times tackled by hot dog stand owner: 287. Total hotdogs returned to hot dog stand own-er: 286. Total hotdogs won over fistfight: 1. Total hotdog cart owners beaten in fistfight: 1. Total hotdogs shared with animal friends: 7. Total animal friends offered in return for hotdog: 163. Total animal friends accepted in return for hotdog: 0. Total words spoken to regu-lar humans: 849. Total words received from regular humans: 38. To-tal totals written on sewer tunnels: 795,301. Total imaginary friends: 12. Total times abandoned by imaginary friends: 457. Total times gone crazy: 25,483,953. Total times returned to sanity: unknown.



I am told to never get attached, never converse, never help, never dis-obey, never touch, never look in the eye, never feel sorry. I am told to watch. Day after day orange clad figures step out of their cells to stretch their legs. The lucky ones get time to meet with visiting family and close friends. The looks on their faces tell me everything I need to know. Some don’t deserve to be here, but what can I do? I will not ask them what they did. Everyday I stand still and observe the prisoners sitting lazily in the back corner of the cells. Meanwhile their disheartened loved ones pay the price for car thefts, shoplifting, and mur-ders they did not commit.

The detectives never think about the consequences; they never see the faces. All they need is a name and a reason to send someone to the box. They don’t understand how capturing these people impacts their families and friends. They don’t see the face of the boy waiting for his father. The boy waits patiently for half an hour to see his father for fifteen minutes. A screen flickers galactic images, captivating the boy momentarily. His eyes drop downward as the minutes painfully pass. Every Thursday the boy counts down the seconds until he can see his father. When he finally arrives, the boy tells him all about his day, leaving out nothing. He does not ask about his father’s day because he knows him too well; he knows his father can’t tell him anything without drowning in guilt. Accordingly, his excited voice spills out every possible word to be said in fifteen minutes, but that is not enough time. It is not enough for the boy. Why should he have to wait so long to see his father? He will have to wait a long time, too long, before he can tell his dad his full story.

Behind BarsBy Meredith Lee



Childhood passions are often lost amid the endless obstacles of maturing: spending time with family, having a career, loss of physical ability, and prioritizing other interests. However, for some, their commit-ment to their favorite pastimes are strong enough to follow them into adulthood. The ocean first captivated Drew Siev-ers attention at Newport Beach in Southern California. About an hour south of Los An-geles, this small beach town fostered Drew’s passion for the ocean since he was 8-years-old. He reflected fondly on his best experi-ences in the ocean, “I have a picture of me as a senior in high school coming out of a big wave, maybe 15 ft. down at the Wedge”. The “Wedge” is a break spot Drew would go to surf with his friends. Since they did not have a car, they could not bring surfboards all the way to the beach, so he spent most of his time at the Wedge bodyboarding. Although this was not ideal, he still loved spending time in the water, and body boarding was the closest he could get to surfing at the time;

anything was better than not surfing at all. This was the first of many obstacles Drew encountered with surfing, but he always adapted and found a way to enjoy the ocean. Drew’s love for the ocean followed him into college, leading him to pursue marine biology. He was admitted into UC Santa Barbara and this was where surf-ing started to take over; “There was a surf-ing break right outside my dorm room, so I could just walk outside and start surfing”, said Drew. This intense love for surfing contin-ued throughout college and into adulthood. A look at Drew’s Facebook page will confirm Drew’s continued love for surfing. His profile picture (shown above) immediate-ly reveals not only that he surfs, but also that despite the brutally cold San Francisco water, he still finds a way to enjoy surfing. But his relationship with surfing hasn’t always been positive; After college, Drew didn’t surf for about five years and sold all of his boards be-cause he didn’t have time to surf and travel-ing with them wasn’t practical. Drew longed

No Free Rides

By Cameron Galley



what I do, and the people I know. It’s what makes me happy.” The ac-cident pulled him out of a surfing habit that in hindsight had become unhealthy, as he unintentionally found himself getting lost in the practice of surfing as much as pos-sible. Drew warned me, “It’s a highly addictive thing, people who surf a lot will tell you it’s a real addictive passion. When the surf is good, pret-ty much everything else can suffer.” The addictive nature of surfing is hard for non surfers to understand, but after the accident Drew redis-covered an outside view of how surfing can have a negative impact. Now he has agreed with his wife to surf at most two or three times per week, although the accident was painful and hurt his confidence. Drew is still thankful for how surf-ing has kept him healthy and happy throughout the years, even when

having to stay out of the water for six months due to the accident his love for surfing hasn’t faltered. A crucial part of surfing and other action sports like skateboard-ing is knowing the the risk that comes with every time you step on a board or mount a bike. This adrenaline repeatedly captivates thrill seekers and athletes alike. Due to the dangerous nature of these sports it can be really challenging to balance surfing with a professional and family life. Experienced and comfortable in the ocean, Drew has become very familiar with the risks of surfing. His passion for surfing pervades despite the obstacles he’s encountered throughout his life.

cause “it was so freakin cold”. How-ever, it didn’t take long for this to change. A trip to a local surf shop, Proof Lab, introduced Drew to dif-ferent types of wetsuits that were designed for colder water. This re-ignited Drew’s passion for surfing. With the cold water no longer a concern, Drew began to surf three to four times a week before work. Drew recalled his practice of surf-ing at Ocean Beach, “I would get up and get there at the crack of dawn, you know while it’s still dark. My buddies and I would paddle out when the first light came and surf a couple hours and I did that for 6 years.” This became routine for Drew. He lived in tiburon at the time so the morning commute took about a half an hour. Since he was working for himself, he could finish surfing by 8:00 a.m. and get to the office by 8:30 a.m.. His abil-ity to seamlessly blend surfing into daily life reflects Drew’s unique go with the flow attitude, an inte-gral part of his passion for surfing. However, last summer this flexibility was met with a swift “cosmic bitch slap”. Drew broke his neck surfing which abruptly put an end to the surf-heavy lifestyle he had been living. Although he still seemed rather bummed, Drew ad-mitted, “The accident allowed me to reset and rethink priorities, it would be fair to say I was over-surf-ing before I broke my neck”. At first it’s hard to see the benefit in break-ing your neck and it was undoubt-edly a horrible accident but there’s an aspect of it that both hurt and saved Drew. Talking about his fam-ily’s response to the accident, he spoke of his wife’s bias, “She toler-ates my surfing now but if I went to her and said I’m never going to surf again, she’d be happy. The problem for me is that it’s some-



Men,

You need to cry more.

Personally, I am thankful for my

ability to cry. My feelings are my

most immediate response to what

I notice and experience. I cry,

but not for help; I cry to express

euphoria, gratitude and recogni-

tion of beauty; I cry as a release

and to de-stress; I cry to share

myself with the people I care

about without words. Sometimes

I even think of my public tears as

an act of performance art, willing

others to cry publicly and com-

fortably as well. I want every-

one to be able to experience this

quality of openness, understand-

ing, and empathy.

I am troubled by our culture’s

fixation on being emotionless,

cool, and put-together one

hundred percent of the time.

When I spend time thinking about

my interactions and relationships

with others, especially with men,

everything can begin to seem

repressed. Biochemist William H.

Frey, PhD found that “women cry

an average of 5.3 times a month,

while men cry an average of 1.3

times per month, with crying

defined as anything from moist

eyes to full-on sobbing.” Why do

women cry over four times more

than men? Is this natural, or a

manifestation of our patriarchal

society affecting men negatively?

It’s possible that differences in

crying rates can be attributed to

“BE REAL, BE A HUMAN, SHOW EMOTION”



The hypermasculinity pervad-ing various cultures is truly toxic....”

chemical differences in men and

women. According to a study on

culture and crying, “testoster-

one may inhibit crying, while the

hormone prolactin (seen in higher

levels in women) may promote it.”

Women could be more emotional

and expressive for the purpose

of connecting with their babies,

while men have less of a biologi-

cal need to cry because, tradition-

ally, they have been less involved

in their children’s upbringings.

Before puberty, men and women

cry the same amount. But with

maturation and increased hor-

mones, their emotional tenden-

cies become more distinct.

Men have spoken out about

their experiences with crying pub-

licly, advocating for something

that is socially unacceptable in

American society. In a Huffington

Post article about male tears, a

college professor writes, “If they

got beyond the spectacle of my

tears, students discovered that

raw, genuine emotion has its place

in the classroom because it cracks

us wide open, creating a space for

deeper intimacy with ideas. No

lecture could have delivered this

message.” There are things that

can only be learned through raw

emotional expression and some-

times without intellectualizing

that expression either.

People in opposition of emo-

tional men believe that men are

defined by their masculinity,

transforming natural, biological

distinctions in men into hyper-

masculinity. Men feel that they

need to prove themselves and

their manhoods in order to be

recognized as “real men.” Some

believe that hypermasculinity

is natural and beneficial to our

society as a whole. Traditionally,

humankind was separated by

gender for the purpose of fulfill-

ing specific roles. Cavemen went

to hunt, while cavewomen had

babies; socialized men go to work

and make money for their fami-

lies, while socialized women stay

at home and raise their children;

men are professional, women are

nurturing; crying is reserved for

women, so it is not manly to cry.

We do not live in caves

anymore and we are slowly

moving past humankind’s ideas of

gender roles. Maybe gender roles

and hypermasculinity are impor-

tant for primitive societies, but do



we believe we are still a primitive

society? Definitely not. Survival

through hunting and gathering

is no longer our fixation. Scientists

have proven that the male and

female brains are very similar and

women themselves have proved

that they are able to do the same

tasks as men countless times. So

why do men still believe they

must have a hard exterior shell to

prove themselves?

Even some women still

believe it is unmanly to cry; they

call it “a turnoff.” These women

value the hypermasculine type

and denounce any man who devi-

ates from these standards. They

remain brainwashed by what they

have been taught while living

in our patriarchal society and

decided it was their job to further

shame these emotionally respon-

sive men. Eva Wiseman writes in

the Guardian, “A man, but crying.

It’s hard to keep the two images in

your head, I know. The two belong

in different universes, one in the

universe of wood logging and

hard cash, the other in a universe

of menstruation and chamomile,

am I right? Of course I am. I know.

I live in the real world, where a

man is to tears what a bath is to a

panini. They both have their place,

but never the same place.”

No, Eva. You’re wrong. You’re

also wrong in implying that

“wood logging and hard cash”

concern only men and “menstru-

ation and chamomile” are only

relevant to women. Also, I’ve

eaten a panini in the bath. Close-

minded and repressed people like

you are menaces in our already

oppressive world. You ques-

tion your neighbor, “Why, Sean?

Why couldn’t you hold it in? Why

couldn’t you simply pretend

everything is OK, all the time,

and that no emotion is stronger

than a pinch, like other men do so

successfully?” but contradict your-

self in saying he should “simply



pretend everything is OK, all the

time.” American society requires

plenty of pretending as a require-

ment for modern-day survival,

and you still have the audacity to

tell men to pretend even more?

The ability to be real is a blessing

both for the person who reveals

their truth and the person who

learns and accepts that truth.

This is the perspective of only

one woman. The reality is that

most women wish men would

be more emotionally available;

being closed-off and emotion-

less is harmful to relationships

with friends, family, and lovers.

A father who is not emotionally

available to his children and tells

his impressionable young son to

“man up” when he cries perpetu-

ates the same harmful expecta-

tions that the father was taught.

A boyfriend who claims to be

“turned off” when his girlfriend

cries in front of him in response

to her frustration with him pushes

her away even more and acts in

opposition of their relationship.

Even boys at Urban are closed-

off, as shown by Leo Krinsky in the

2015 Peer Ed Show; “Be real, be

a human, show emotion.” Crying

is one of many ways to practice

genuine openness and honesty.

Without these abilities, relation-

ships with men are doomed.

Unemotional men are hurting

themselves the most. It’s killing

them. Stephen Buckley, the head

of information at Mind, a mental

health charity, says that “anyone

can be affected by a mental

health problem, but men are far

less likely than women to seek

support.” According to another

article in The Telegraph, 78% of

suicides are committed by men.

The hypermasculinity pervading

various cultures is truly toxic. Men,

you can find salvation through

the simple act of crying.

No matter how many times

I hear it, the widespread motto

“real men don’t cry” never fails to

send a shiver down my spine. In

my opinion, “real men” are able to

express how they feel as much as

they want or need to, and if that

expression takes form in tears,

then so be it. We are fortunate

to live in a liberal, modern world

where people have the right to

express themselves. “Real men”

are the ones who are unafraid to

embrace this right and use it to

benefit themselves, their commu-

nities, and our patriarchal world.

Sincerely yours,

Ariane, Crying Expert



PersistenBy Meredith Lee

ce in Positivitying her are just as happy. And if they are not, it is her duty to fix that. Whether through food, jokes, or academics, Meneghetti is sure to help increase levels of positivity. The responsibility of everyone’s happiness is a lot to bear for one young teen, yet somehow Zoe arrives at school well composed, and prepared for whatever chal-lenges the day may bring. She is always pre-pared with the correct pencil, calculator, and textbook; Zoe is basically a high school Supergirl. The worn felt frog Zoe’s advising uses brings complaints and rude sarcasm into the weekly check-ins. The phrases: “There’s just so much work,” “No sleep,” “Really James!?” and “The reading takes forever,” fly around the cramped office like bees in a hive. Zoe sits in the classic Urban-blue spin chairs that only the teachers get and watches the nega-tivity unveil between her ,slowly, maturing fellow advisees. With such a large cloud of negative ions in such a small, windowless space, the Supergirl knows an explosion of shouting and bickering is inevitable. Her instincts quickly kick in; it is time to reduce the cloud. Zoe quickly gets to work, shouting for the worn green frog, the talking stick in her advising. Obtaining the frog means she will have everyone’s undivided attention, hope-fully. After grabbing the frog from Colin’s angry hands, she begins a long, tangential story of the time she went hiking with her school friends, Ca-mille and Maya. Though the story is unrelated and lengthy, it slowly reduces the tension in the room and directs her peers annoyance at her. Stress and fatigue play an everyday roll high school students’ lives. With chemistry quizzes, an-alytical essays, physics projects, spanish presen-tations, college research, standardized test prep, sports, and other extracurricular activities, ‘fun’ seems out of the question for juniors. Somehow the Supergirl manages to start each day by smil-ing and radiating positivity to all her sleepy class-mates. Her award worthy smile and compliment

As she hoists the tray filled with festively dec-orated sweets onto her hip, while carrying a thirty pound backpack, and a lululemon-bagged-lunch, rushed Urban students see a freckled, dirty-blond, over achieving, suck up -the usual freshman. She excitedly races to meet the people she will be stuck with for the next four years. However, her excitement is barely reflected by the group of silent teens. When they stare blankly at her, she shoves the treats in their faces and displays her many hours of labor in the kitch-en with her mother. In that instant, Zoe Meneghe-tti set the bar for all future advising snack bearers. What Zoe’s fellow advisees did not know until years later, is she is not a suck up. It isn’t the need for approval, the satisfaction of impressing a teacher, or even just to show off her baking skills; Zoe seeks to please. She is only happy when the people surround-



her true identity, even her closest friends. “[monogramming] makes me feel like something is mine,” she explains. Being able to select her own brilliant colors and loopy fonts gives this Supergirl a physical rep-resentation of ownership of herself. For Zoe, part of owning herself is recognizing her family and her roots through her mono-grammed pieces. She describes how “monogramming is huge in Texas. I have a lot of family there, so they kind of got me hooked.” Monograms jog Zoe’s memories of hiking, shooting, and just sitting around with her family halfway across the country. Spacious Texas is almost the polar opposite of the cramped city; monogram’s subur-ban vibes quickly remind Zoe of her dedicated love to her family far away. In addition, she incorporates texas shaped necklaces and Uni-versity of Texas gear to encourage herself in her goal to attend college there. It seems wearing your goal is the best way to achieve it. Not only does the University of Texas supply a strong academic cur-riculum, it is close to home as well. Zoe prioritizes her family and friends; as a result she keeps

her life full of happiness and bliss by filling her time with people who she loves. Her instagram is filled with vibrant memories of her abundant friends, family, food, sports events, and the love of her life, her dog Maci. Margar-ita pizza at Delarosa seems to be a monthly tradition. Meneghe-tti claims her family and friends “fuel her happiness” and “inspire her to stay positive.” She packs every ounce of fun and love into her already chaotic schedule. Yet, she manages to take care of her health and put aside “family time.” Last November, Meneghe-tti participated in her greatest feat so far: the Nike Women’s Half Mar-athon. After nearly nine months of intense training, Zoe finished the Marathon by crossing the fin-ish line with her sister, Jorden, and her father. She insisted on doing it with her family as a way to stay close to Jorden, who had just moved to Texas for college. “Every two to three times a week we would facetime about how we were going to train that day,” explains Zoe. Not only did Zoe go the extra mile to include Jorden in her endeavours, but she gave

complains, “[she] struggles to chose what she will wear every-day.” As a result of wearing the same navy pilling sweatshirt and pleated plaid skirt for nine years, Zoe felt nine years behind the ‘style’ of teens her age when she started Urban. “I couldn’t wait to choose my own clothes freshman year,” she exclaimed, “but after three years I feel like I could go back to a uniform; it would save me a lot of time in the morning!” Zoe is often found in leather Sper-rys, black leggings, and a T-shirt or blouse. Though black leggings and Sperry’s are commonly worn by her fellow Urban students, Zoe’s lively spirit and energetic aura reflect the vibrantly colored monogrammed items she designs. Every month, it seems, Zoe has a new brightly colored mono-grammed good; whether it is an iphone case, a half-zip sweatshirt, a PBteen pillow, or a necklace, you can count on it being as col-orful and shiny as her personality. Though she wears ordinary Urban attire, she notices, “a lot of people, especially my friends, make fun of my monograms...but don’t worry, I have pretty thick skin.” This Su-



but [her] sister really didn’t want to know.” Marathons are not things people participate in on a monthly basis; because of this, mara-thon participants often want to know their times so they can improve their running skills. Zoe giving up this opportunity to reduce com-petetiveness with her sister demonstrates her dedication to her family and friends. Though Meneghetti seems unruffled during stressful times, such as finals week, she claims she “just doesn’t show (her) stress.” How does this Supergirl let loose and rid herself of the stress high school ju-niors face? Her answer: “non-Urban friends and sports.” Meneghetti explains, “Having a sport, especially a running sport, lets you work all your anger and frustration out. It also forces you to practice focusing.” Focus is key for dealing with stress, according to Har-vard medical students. Stress often causes students’ minds to deviate from the cause of the stress as an easy way to avoid study-ing for finals, or writing a paper. Sports help mental health and distressing because they allow time to both mind wander and focus. Urban’s Supergirl utilizes this tool year round to keep her stress low and positivity high. Meneghetti’s non-Urban friends help her “escape the Urban world.” “I’ve gone to school with most of (my non-Urban friends) for nine years at Hamlin; they know me in a different way (from my Urban friends).” Being able to escape the Urban’s realm of uber-liberal, health food junky, discussion loving, vibes is the best way to reduce stress. “When I am with non-Urban people, I don’t feel any pressure from school or school work. It is like it doesn’t exist,” Zoe describes. We can all take a few pages out of Zoe Meneghetti’s book. She proved staying posi-tive and filling life with things you love are the key to maintaining a low-stress lifestyle. Krista Vanuska says, “We all want to be Zoe Meneghetti.” And it is true. This Supergirl has got the solution every high schooler’s big-gest problem, and she is willing to share it. Supergirl steps out of her tiny mint-green fiat bogged down with binders, a backpack, and a sports bag, yet nothing can weigh down her invisible smile as she gets ready to tackle the day, trailing a visible path of positivity.





Smog.Buildings reach for the sky but disappear, engulfed by black immobile vessels

Smog, my ceiling (cell)

Mounds of trash, shacks and rubble, buildings create a jungle known as home

Smog, my breathe

The city, or is it a town, or is a slum, has boundar-ies, defined with walls, rags that separate us from the next and the next from us

Smog, painful smog,

Mama says that when we go out we must act as if we are swimming

Lungs black as the celling god placed upon us she says

Lungs black

Smog Black

God White

Smog so black and the rags that separate us are from the next so white We run, we playWhen sun shines through smog we run and playSmog is the ceiling but sometimes god gives us a sun roofSun roof like CaliforniaLike music videos we watch when we went to the nextThe next has little smog-Wind blows smog towards us

River runs toward us with smog, grit, dust, dirtI am dirty-they say I amLungs Black, Smog BlackGod white, God on posters in school in the nextNext no smog

God must love next

I promise

When the smog so black it is pierced by the sun

Sun makes yellow, red, and blue so blue

Sky so blue celling so black

Buildings can finally extend

Stretch to the heaven

And we can see the next

We know next is not an illusion

And I run

I fall

SKin brown cut red but sky blue

I run and Jump

Jump to next

Sky Blue, Skin brown, lungs black

Jump to white god on cross

Extended arms like buildings grow toward sunlight

Like flowers in books although not real

Sky blue, skin brown, lungs black

hope has no color

-Jackson Plut



The Leap Marco stared out at the empty village. Grandma was cooking meat over the fire and always kicked him out of the kitchen, so Marco lay on the roof to pass time. He surveyed the closed off neighboring buildings, wondering how his neighbors got fresh air. Marco was surrounded by the sizzle of meat on the grill. Every day was the same monotonous senses. Where is everyone else? A “cawwaah” shattered his train of thought. Marco swiveled his head just in time to glimpse a Gold and Blue Macaw. It flew across the sky gracefully, like an ice skater graces the ice. One day I’ll fly away from here. I’ll fly to the village with streets full of dancing people, where color carpets the streets, and laughing and singing fills the atmosphere, thought Marco. Suddenly, a second caw, fol-lowed by a series of caws, burst across the sky. Where there was previously one Macaw, now were a parade of Macaws soaring in the same direction. The calls startled Marco and he gripped the roof for stability. Blinds and windows began to open, a brave few even stepping outside their doors. For once, the villagers were united over a common goal: searching for the source of commotion. I can’t keep waiting for change to happen, thought Marco. Like the birds, I must make change happen. He ungripped the roof and created a runway. Like a cheetah he sprinted. At the edge of the roof, he jumped, spreading his arms and legs like the wings of a Macaw. Thud.

-Holly Anderson



Luc y, by

J a m a i c a

e x p l o r e s

the various identi-

ties of a young girl who

has recently moved to

America. Not just a good

read but an insight into

the mind of a young

women of color strug-

gling to discover herself.

LUCY BY: JAMAICA KINKAID

Analytical Essays by Cameron Galley (‘17) and Jake Plut (‘16)



By Cameron GalleyClass of 2017

Foreign Familiarity“The times that I loved Mariah it was because she reminded me of my mother. The times that I did not love Mariah it was because she reminded me of my mother.” -Lucy, Jamaica Kincaid

The troubled protagonist of Jamaica Kincaid’s Lucy is in a constant battle to manage the intimate relationships, the family and friends that dominate her personal life. The struggle moves beyond personal connections as Lucy becomes discontented with her new role as an au pair. The connections she makes with the family she supports are rooted in her desire for familiar-ity. New experiences intertwine with the old; new faces and personalities remind her of former loved ones. In an attempt to keep these unfamiliar new relationships within her control, Lucy uses the familiarity of her old life to make sense of her new foreign life. She does this primarily through the cherished relationships she creates with those around her. Lucy’s obses-sion with physical connection causes the relationship she has with her bio-logical family to deteriorate; without this affection, Lucy feels no need to acknowledge the trivial affairs of her biological family.As Lucy distances herself from her mother, the disorder of of rela-tionships and living arrangements becomes increasingly vast and daunt-ing. When physically separated from her family, Lucy emotionally pull away from her family as well. This behavior starts with the letters she mails home in which she hides the anguish of her new life. In an attempt to maintain a false sense of security and pride in this foreign land, Lucy “Wrote home to say how lovely everything was and she used flourishing words and phrases, as if she was living life in a greeting

card” (10). This uncharacteristic dis-honesty resulted directly from Lucy’s separation from her family. The lack of accountability for the wellbeing of her family comes from this discon-nect and prompts a growing sense of incompleteness and unhappiness in Lucy’s life. Healthy relationships are necessary for a contented and com-plete life. When Lucy severed this con-nection with her mother, the reper-cussions were glaring in the sub-sequent relationships she pursued. When contemplating the challenges she’s encountered with , Lucy “Could write down only this: ‘I wish I could love someone so much that I would die from it.’ And then a great wave of shame came over [her] and [she] wept and wept so much that the tears fell on the page and caused all the words to become one great big blur.” This frus-tration reflects Lucy’s grief and dis-content with the separated state of her family. Although Lucy longs for the warmth their affection, she pushes her family away. Beneath this distress is an intense longing for familiarity and understanding. Lucy’s intimate relationships in America are linked to the most prom-inent aspects of her old life through similarities of people she connects with she, bridges the gap between her two realities. Particularly in the relation-ship Lucy has with Mariah. Since Lucy is now separated from her mother, she binds aspects of Mariah’s personality to those of her mother. However, her complicated relationship with her own mother further complicates her rela-tionship with Mariah. Lucy’s relation-ship with Mariah is like a relationship with two people. The positive aspects of her mother dominate the personal-ity Lucy reflects onto Mariah, such that “Mariah reminded me more and more of parts of my mother that Iloved” (59). These positive traits of affection and understanding make Mariah more appealing to Lucy, a welcome change to the opposition she has felt due to

their different backgrounds. However, after these intimate connections are made, Lucy gains a more personal admiration for Mariah, “seeing Mariah look so beautiful, I couldn’t tear myself away” (59). This newfound admira-tion stems from the positive aspects of Lucy’s relationship with her mother. Lucy relies on the intimacy of her rela-tionships to make her new world feel familiar; demonstrating how we rely on physical connection to sustain the most important relationships in our lives. This dependency is responsible for her inability to enjoy the pleasures of life without these personal con-nections. For most relationships in Lucy, the connections between char-acters are rooted in shared interest with less significance placed in physi-cal connection. Lucy places utmost importance on physical connection; when separated from her family, the importance of this tangible contact becomes more evident. Distance causes her relation-ship with her family to deteriorate; proving the fundamental importance of personal connection in both pla-tonic and physical relationships, par-ticularly when our ability to sustain positive relationships hinges on a desire for intimacy and familiarity. bea vellorpores vercillabo. this tan-gible contact becomes more evident. Distance causes her relationship with her family to deteriorate; proving the fundamental importance of personal connection in both platonic and phys-ical relationships, particularly when our ability to sustain positive relation-ships hinges on a desire for intimacy and familiarity.



By Jake Plut Bad Blood, Breaking BondsClass of 2016

“Isn’t it the most blissful thing in the world to be away from everything you have ever known--to be so far away that you don’t even know your-self anymore and you’re not sure you ever want to come back to all of the things you’re a part of?” (66)

Fucking Shit. The question is “who are you?” written in black ink on the board, and the two ‘rather rude’ words come out of my mouth without me even thinking. I got in trouble, I understood that, its who I am that I don’t. When the question is asked people will think of many dif-ferent memories, but at some point everyone will go to the same subject: Family. The blood that runs through your veins, the memories you have; pain, anger, joy, its different for every-one but we will all think about it. The few times I get to go to the movies I always notice each hero or heroine has one issue in common, an unre-solved past, a mother who has been killed, father who has been neglect-ful. Whatever the story may be the conflict is always within the family. Family, for many, is a place of sta-bility, a sense of foundation within a whirlwind of a world. For others, family is what plagues them most, waking them at night and controlling them during the day. In Lucy, Jamaica Kincaid forces us to face the fact that unresolved family conflicts weigh heavy on our conscience, demanding full attention of all aspects of Lucy’s life, and stopping her from pulling those she truly wants to connect with close to her. Family, we unfortunately learn, plagues our thoughts weigh-ing on are everyday lives. Shortly after her arrival in North America, Lucy stops opening letters from

home to give herself a break from her mother’s haunting voice. Lucy wishes to detach herself from her mother’s expectations, freeing herself to form her own identity. Lucy says, “I had come to see her love as a burden...I had come to feel that my mother’s love for me was designed solely to make me into an echo of her” (37). Lucy calls herself an “echo”, conjuring up the image of sound fading into eternal silence. Lucy is fading away, she cannot find herself. She is lost in the image projected on her by her mother. The unresolved conflicts in her family relationship that Lucy calls a “burdon”, cannot be avoided. Lucy’s survival in North America relies on her suppressing her disappoint-ment of herself. Unfortunately, this disappointment is always linked to her mother, meaning it cannot be pushed aside forever. Her mother’s voice or presence is always demand-ing her attention. Lucy says, “it was not my first bout with the disap-pointment of reality and it would not be my last” (3-4). Unresolved family conflicts, although not as obviously difficult as a physical disability or dif-ference from the dominant such as Lucy’s race or gender, lead to a “dis-appointment in reality.” Lucy begins to understand that distance cannot stop the feeling conjured up by here mother, and this brings a harsh reality to burden her life. Despite her physical absence from Lucy’s life, Lucy’s mother, and the complicated relationship she tried leaving in the past, continually occupies Lucy’s thoughts, inspir-ing anger, contempt, longing, and regret. Lucy relates an enormous amount of her experiences to some memory or observation about her mother. Wound up in thoughts of the past she comes to the harsh reality that her family is ingrained within her. Lucy staggers upon the fact that she “could see the sameness

in everything; [she] could see the present take a shape-the shape of [her] past” (90). She cannot escape her past, regardless of distance or new experiences. Even with all the differences, the similarities are all too obvious: at home, Sundays depressed her, and here, they depress her too. She fled her unhappy family only to witness the decline of Lewis and Mariah’s marriage, Lewis behaving much like her father. Lucy does not refer to these sad similarities as any-thing but a shape. The phrase “see the sameness in everything” when put in juxtaposition with this “shape” shows that Lucy cannot really see anything but her past. Lucy goes on to say that the “past was [her] mother.” The shape that the present is taking is inevitably formed by the past of her mother (90). Lucy resents her mother’s attempts to shape her in her own image. Lucy hoped that the “vast ocean” would create a mental barrier between her and her mother, but even now, separated, Lucy still finds herself caught in a battle for freedom from her mother, whose “mocking voice’” rings in her head and whose letters she can neither bear to read nor discard (90). Until she has looked at these problems she cannot even face the problems of the present, such as depression. Sadness occurs when Lucy tries to escape the shackles of the past to face the struggles of the present. Only after she digs at the roots of the problem, and finds rec-onciliation, can she overcome them. Lucy becomes lonely on her path to define her own family. Cutting her familial connection leaves her feeling empty. She says “as I sat on that bed, the despair of a Sunday in full bloom, I thought: I am alone in the world, and I shall always be this way--all alone in the world” (93). This lone-liness is a difficult stage of break-ing from the shackles of family. Lucy realizes her mother speaks the same



Lucy becomes lonely on her path to define her own family. Cutting her familial connection leaves her feeling empty. She says “as I sat on that bed, the despair of a Sunday in full bloom, I thought: I am alone in the world, and I shall always be this way--all alone in the world” (93). This lone-liness is a difficult stage of break-ing from the shackles of family. Lucy realizes her mother speaks the same language as her, saying, “anyone female can understand” helping her realize regardless she is the only daughter her mother has. Lucy ends her thoughts about her mother by thinking “my blood runs in you” relat-ing it to “life in a prison whose bars were stronger than any iron imag-inable,” as her problems follow her across a great distance, Lucy comes to see that her difficulties transcend her environment (91). The very sep-aration that Lucy hopes to complete with her journey to America, cause her sorrow. She believes she’ll never again experience the kind of love she shared with her mother, and deter-mined that she must break with her mother to achieve adulthood, Lucy suffers intense feelings of loss in the process. Lucy pushes herself through the sadness in an attempt to define herself. Struggling with the reinven-tion Lucy says, “I understood that I was inventing myself…I could only count on intuition. I did not have any-thing exactly in mind, but when the picture was complete I would know” (134). Lucy shows how to begin to draw this “picture” not by avoiding the roots of your problems, but by facing them, thinking of them, and challenging them. Lucy cannot be calculated in her definition but lets the paint brush move across the canvas until it is finished. And I wait, on the edge of my seat, for her to finish. “ I wept and wept so much that the tears fell on the page and

caused all the words to become one great big blur” (164). I put the book down. I am left with a sense of hopelessness: can one define their family? Mine has been defined many times. I was born with no name. I was named Samuel by the Compton city and Los Angeles County for Foster Youth. I was named Jackson Plut by Matthew Plut and Hazel White. I was nicknamed Jake. My connection to my parents is by law, my connection to my siblings is by blood, regardless of what I say, this is the reality I live in. You cannot define your own family, as much as it pains me to say, and as much as Lucy and I have tried. My mother will always be my mother, whether its because she raised me for 18 years, because the law says so, or because I love her. What gives the word ‘mother’ weight is only that I call her that. I made a choice to call the white women next to me my mother, and the white man next to her my father, but I also make a choice to call the 25 year old girl who looks just like me my sister. Lucy began to push the boundaries of family not by dis-tance or resistance but by looking at the names she placed on others and the names other placed on her. Who you choose to call a friend, brother, mother, son is ultimately your deci-sion. Family, and the way we define it is the most important to our well being, and understanding of our-selves. We as a human race have always held family close to us as a value and have always felt defined by them. They have always demon-strated who we are, where we came from. But we all have issues because of them we must resolve, when someone writes Who Am I? on the board, I know I am never the only one to think ‘fucking shit’.





Archer Zeroby Julia Mornini

I’m an ant! It’s great being an ant! What do I do every day? What’s my job? There’s only one answer to any of that: I’m an ant! I’m very small because I’m an ant! I love eating sugar! If you leave any food lying around, I’ll eat it! You should leave it lying around; I’m sure my friends and I will eagerly take it! Of course, even if you think your food is safe from us, we’ll find a way, I promise! I’m an ant! The life of an ant is exciting; I wake up every day excited to be an ant! Would you believe that I can lift objects twice my size or bigger? That’s what comes with being an ant, after all, and I’m an ant!

I don’t have that long a lifespan. I’m an ant! In a few weeks I won’t just be an ant, but I’ll be an old ant! Not a lot of ants live too long, though, because the life of an ant is dangerous! If you see me, please don’t step on me or eat me, no matter what kind of animal you might be! I’m an ant! Being eaten sucks. If I’m eaten, I won’t just be an ant, or an old ant, but I’ll be a dead ant!

You might see ants referred to as marching sometimes. The truth is, we just like to walk in straight lines, and we all have the same ideas about where to go! Ants aren’t that smart, after all, and I’m an ant! We do have central nervous systems, so I can confidently say that I’m smarter than a jellyfish! That’s awesome! Ants might be low on the totem pole of intelligence (and I should know because I’m an ant), but you can bet I’m happy to be smarter than a jellyfish or a starfish! To be frank, I don’t even know what jellyfish and starfish are, because I have no way of learn-ing those sorts of things! I’m an ant! Even though it can be scary, being an ant is exciting every single day! After all, I don’t have much of a capacity to remember past experiences except for basic feelings associated with those experiences! I’m an ant!



Remembering

By Dustin J Magidson

Mike Lester awoke. Alone. Confused. Frightened. He didn’t recognize this cold, grey place. Where was he? As he sat up, his head throbbed. The pain in his skull forced his return to a fetal position on the cot. He could barely keep his eyes open as the harsh, bright, fluorescent lights burned holes in his tired eyes. “Hello?” he whispered. No answer. “Hello?” he vocalized a bit louder. His feeble voice was the only audible sound in the large vacant room. Mike repeated this several times with increasing volume until his throat was sore and the echoes from his own shouting consumed him.

There was no one visible in this massive area. It appeared to be a large warehouse with chain-link fences marking a grid from wall to wall. Mike looked around and noticed that he was locked in one square of this chain-link grid. Was he in prison? He attempted to recall how he got there but, but the remnants of the past night were blurred. Why had he found himself in such a cold and lifeless place?

The last thing he could remember was leaving work early the previous night after the third and final fight with his boss this week. He had been fired from his job the day before. He remembered stopping at a bar because he couldn’t bear to go home and face the wrath of his merciless wife. Then… static… blur.“MICHAEL LESTER. PLEASE ACCOMPANY THE APPROACHING OFFICER TO YOUR WAITING CELL. YOU WILL REMAIN AT THAT LOCATION UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE” a voice blasted through a speaker in the ceiling. Mike threw his hands over his ears in order to keep his skull from bursting open. Over the ringing in his ears he could barely hear the squeaking rubber boots on the linoleum floor getting louder.

He burst through the front door of the Bloodhound Pub and sat directly in front of Sam the bartender. Sam glanced over the mug he was drying and grumbled, “the usual?” Mike nodded and was handed a scotch on the rocks.

A cold and calloused hand grasped his shirt and pulled him upright. “Alright Mr. Lester. Come with me.”

He stumbled out the bathroom door with vomit dripping down his chin, slowly made his way past Sam the bartender, past the patrons of the bar, out the front door, and to his car.

“Come on. Hurry up. Your cell is right over here.”

He whizzed through the streets, people and shops a blur as he swerved between lanes, steadily increased his velocity. The lights meant nothing to him at this point, nor did the cars dodging out of his way.

Mike was pushed into a smaller and even colder cell. He collapsed to the stone ground with his first step past the iron bars. “Another guard will bring you a meal in one hour. Until then, stay here and don’t make a commotion.”

Mike pulled his 6-year-old son, Kevin, firmly out of bed and dragged the child by his arm out the front door, disregard-ing the enraged and fearful screams resonating from behind him.

Mike lied alone in his cell as tears rolled down his cheeks. He was afraid.

The flashing blue and red lights in his rearview mirror were insignificant. The world was passing by too quickly and spinning to rapidly to worry about the colorful lights behind him. All he had to focus on was shutting up the screaming child next to him shrieking for his mother. He looked to the ground and side-to-side in search of a way to stop Kevin from screaming. Mike turned towards the back seat. No toys… no candy… no… screech! crash!

Mike bolted upright in his prison cell. He rushed to the iron bars that outlined his chamber. Despite the painful ringing in his ears and the fact he knew he wouldn’t get a response, he opened his mouth and screamed, “IS HE ALRIGHT? WHERE IS KEVIN?”





“Animals often make

better research subjects

than human bengs

because of their shorter

lifestyles.”-Barnaby

Feder, NY Times



What’s On Your Skin?

Swish go the automatic doors as you walk into your local Walgreens. As you scan the store, your eyes are drawn to the blues and purples of the Maybelline Falsies Mascara display. You run, like a dog going after a squirrel, to grab the last mascara in blackest black. After purchasing the mascara, you return home immedi-ately to apply it. It is dark like tar, and it looks… flawless. From then on, you and the mascara are inseparable. You are not alone in this love affair. Four out of five Americans experience this same joy of applying makeup everyday. Sadly, many are unaware of the savage history of their favor-ite makeup products before they are placed on the shelves.

Like many other women, I never thought about animal testing when I bought makeup products. All I saw was the end product: the beautiful black tint of my Maybelline mascara. When I began research-ing for this paper, I contemplated my opinion on animal testing. I was confused by animal testing because I did not see the difference between breeding a mouse for makeup testing and breeding a cow for meat. I felt conflicted because the purpose of many animals’ lives is to be used by humans, whether for consump-tion or animal testing. If the ani-mal’s purpose in life is to be tested on, is testing on it really that evil? I did not consider the pain “26 million

animals” must endure every year just for me to feel pretty. I did not know of “the stress [that the animals endure, causing them] to develop neurotic types of behavior such as inces-santly spinning in circles, rocking back and forth, pulling out their own fur, and even biting themselves.” The cramped wire cages, concoction after concoction of chemicals wreck-ing the animals’ bodies, the squeals of fear – all these make me shudder. All these disgusting conditions just to cover up my pimple with con-cealer that will not irritate my skin. And for what purpose? After endless poking, prodding, and gaping at the animals, the animals are tossed, like trash, “into a clear plastic garbage

bag, then...a splash of chloroform [is poured] on them…[but the animals] on the bottom [are] already suffocat-ing because they” are completely buried. So many animals’ lives are lost just to make one makeup product, but no amount of makeup can mask the hideous crime of abusing animals.

Despite the horrific images

D E A R B E AU T Y B E S T I E S BY HOLLY ANDERSON (‘17)



Despite the horrific images that PETA is not shy to display, many people and cosmetic companies are pro-animal testing. Some cosmetic companies justify their tests by citing animals’ lack of rights. According to ProCon.org, cosmetic companies argue that animals “do not have the cog-nitive ability or moral judge-ment that humans do,” so they are not protected from testing. These animals are another group (i.e. people of color, women, etc.) that have been discrimi-nated against because of their absence of rights. Historically, our country has eventually real-ized the wrong in discriminating against such groups, inspiring a change within our country. For example, people of color are now treated as equals and women can now vote. Following this pattern, our country should galvanize for cruelty free products. But why not now? If we know that animal testing will eventually cease to exist, why not eliminate it from our lives now? Further, animals are living beings, just like us, and it is illegal to test on us without our consent. Animals deserve rights, just like us.

Cosmetic companies deny animals rights, insisting animals are best the option, other than humans, for testing products on a living organism. The California Biomedical Research Association claims that animals effectively demonstrate products’ effects on “the central nervous system, endocrine system, and immune system.” This is a valid argument in support of animal testing for medicinal products, like pills, but when is makeup internal-ized? Makeup is applied to the face, not to a person’s inter-nal systems. Therefore, medici-nal product testing and makeup product testing require two

distinctly different types of tests. Cosmetic companies are unneces-sarily testing on animals.

What cosmetic companies do not tell you is that there are many cheaper, safer, and more effective alternatives to animal testing. Shocking, right? The only reason I have “supported” animal testing is because I thought it was the only way of testing the safety of products for human skin. However, European Commission scientists have discovered that “irritation can be easily measured using three-dimensional human skin equivalent systems...that predict skin corrosivity and irrita-tion...with classification accuracy between 90 and 95 percent.” This fact eliminates any reasons cos-metic companies have to test on animals.

If cosmetics are so chem-ically dangerous that cosmetic companies continue to claim they must test their products on animals prior to sale, do you want to put these products on your face? Unconsciously, we put “over 500 chemicals on [our] body every day [which] seep into our pores and can cause cancer, birth defects,” etc. Our bodies are not meant to intake this overload of chemicals. We must remember that “the skin is our largest organ.” Using natural products would not only be safer, but better for our skin. Cosmetic companies could easily do their consumers a favor by using all natural ingre-dients. Natural Resources Defense Council’s Sheryl Eisenberg agrees that “companies could make cos-metics with ingredients already proven safe,” like natural products. It is time to treat your skin like the shrine that it is by changing cos-metic companies. Because of militant criti-cism from the public, many cos-metic companies are striving to

end animal testing. Huge cos-metic manufacturers like L’Oreal, have “voluntarily stopped animal testing on [their] entire range of cosmetics.” Meanwhile, Europe has taken a leap and banned the sale of all animal tested cosmetics, including those tested outside of Europe. This progress proves that the corporate executives of cos-metic companies hear the public’s opinions. Therefore, it is our job to continue spreading knowlesge of dispensable animal testing. It is the public who funds cosmetic companies, funding that com-panies see as support for their immoral tests. So please, spread the word to your sister, your mother, your friend, your neigh-bor, and end support for animal testing cosmetic empires. By working together, we can save animals from cosmetic testing.



Jack A. Armstrong is a high school senior currently living in San Francisco. He was born in Charlotte, NC, grew up in Los Angeles, attended middle school in both London and New York City, and spent his high school days in San Francisco. He is moving back to North Carolina to attend Wake Forest University in the fall of 2016. Armstrong will most likely pursue finance as a career, but isn’t completely sure yet on what he wishes to pursue.

Max Rickert Wong is your normal American teen-ager, he attends the Urban School of San Francisco, and is currently in his junior year. He hopes to one day peruse a career in math and sciences. He plays varsity lacrosse for his high school team and hopes to one day play in college.

Dustin J Magidson was born and raised in San Francisco, California and is currently a senior. He is a semi-pro-fessional drummer/percussionist and volunteers as The San Francisco Rock Project. He is interested in a possible future in creative screenwriting, and next year will attend Eugene Lang College The New School of Liberal Arts in New York City.

Andrew J. Siler was born in London in 1998 and lived there for two years, until he moved to Marin County in 2000. A senior at the Urban School of San Francisco, he enjoys making breakfast, scheming, and watch-ing Netflix while eating breakfast. Next year, he hopes to pursue a degree in engineering.

Holly Anderson is a 16 year old, female, Hapa Junior at the Urban School of San Francisco. She is a Bay Area Native. She enjoys playing volleyball, online shopping, and working on theater tech. She hopes to pursue Chemistry in the future.

Born in Los Angeles and raised in San Francisco, Cameron Galley is an aspiring Graphic Designer. If he is not busy doing homework he is working on his portfolio, skate-boarding, or spending time with friends and family. Cameron plans to continue taking visual arts

Max McAllister is very dedicated, but selectively so. He works hard on what he finds important, but can get a little lazy when it comes to a topic he finds boring. At age 16, he has lived in San Francisco all his life, and is an avid Warriors fan. He plays soccer and lacrosse competitively, and hopes to continue his lacrosse career while attending college.

BIOS

Ariane is an 18-year-old gal from the Haight Ashbury District of San Francisco. She enjoys photography (Instagram), comedy (Broad City), and spending time with friends (trolling people). Ariane is a Scorpio and her spirit animal is a snail. She is an aspiring DJ, environmentalist, and Escape From New York employee. This spring, you can find her all over our beautiful state with her BFF Richard Lautze during Cal Studies.

Jackson Plut was born in Los Angeles but was raised in San Francisco, California. He was adopted by Matthew Plut and Hazel White and began attending the San Francisco School. Plut spent most of his childhood in the cities neighborhoods Potrero Hill and The Fillmore. He became interested in Music, poetry and dance from a young age and still continues to pursue them as his passion. Plut enjoys spending time with his friends and recording and playing and making music, he hopes to make his love for hip-hop music his career in life.

Julia takes everything seriously, but not too seriously. That’s her philosophy on life in general, actually. She’s been writing from a young age, although only on rare occasions does she write with any degree of precision and finesse. Julia does not like professional writing styles very much at all, and avoids writing like that whenever possible. Outside of writing, Julia’s primary interests include Super Smash Brothers Melee for the Nintendo Gamecube, comic book movies and long walks on the beach. She also is in charge of Fight Club, Urban’s only video game club and made an appearance in the 2016 winter production, The X-Files: Resist or Serve.

Meredith Lee is a sixteen year old junior at the Urban School of San Francisco. She spends a considerable amount of time around the water, participating in swim team, open water swimming, teaching swim lessons, white water rafting, and life-guarding. At school Meredith enjoys math and science classes and hopes to study engineering in the future.

Leo Weisman is a 17 year old San Francisco native. He is a high school senior who plans to study naval science and aerospace engineer-ing in college. He enjoys spending his time competing in athletics or spending time with friends. He is a self-identified patriot, and has aspi-rations of becoming a fighter pilot in the US Navy.

Austin Brenner is an 18 year old currently living in San Francisco. He was born in Los Angeles and lived there until he was seven years old. This fall he will begin attend-ing the Clive Davis Institute of Recorded Music at NYU and plans to continue pursuing a path in the music industry.

Zachary is yet another high school Senior. He was born in San Francisco, then stayed in San Francisco for middle school, and remains in San Francisco. He works on becoming a decent student and a better writer. While not plugged into the internet or doing homework, he searches for ways to get online. Zachary doesn’t regularly talk about himself in 3rd person.

W R I T I N G A S A C R A F T 2016

K R A F T

W R I T I N G A S A C R A F T 2016

K R A F T

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