A-ZFILES
A-ZFILES 2017
Selected Works for the Allen-Stevenson Archives
FILES The Allen-Stevenson School 132 E 78th Street New York, NY
The A-Z Files is founded in memory of Zach Levy (1985-2011), Class of 2000. All those who knew Zach came away smiling. He was warm, charismatic, and fiercely witty. He had a big heart and is remembered well for his generosity. Between his lifelong passion for writing and love of kids, he’d be happy to see this publication born in his honor. We all miss him very much.
EDITORS Kerim Eken ‘00 Jonathan Klebanoff ‘00
DESIGN Caitlin Mulcahy Eken
A-S ADVISORS Peter Haarmann David Kersey h’98 David Smith
STUDENT REPRESENTATIVES Luke Jovanovic ‘19 William Camp ‘18 Benjamin Nayman ‘19 Jack Klein ‘18 Jordan Wasserberger ‘19
SELECTION COMMITTEE Adam Levy ‘97 Michael Levy Jonathan Klebanoff ‘00
COVER ART Fiji, Julian Schnitt ‘20
Helen Levy Kerim Eken ‘00 Peter Haarmann
INSIDE COVER ART Unicorn, Kai Otani-Hudes ‘20
Copyright 2017 © The Allen-Stevenson School Produced by Action Graphics, Inc. 800 365 6687
“Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time.�
-Thomas A. Edison
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Foreword Benjy Sarlin ‘00 pg 9 One Last Look H. Sebastian Ross ‘19 pg 11 To Remember David Porges ‘18 pg 12 Where There is a Mountain Harry MacKay ‘20 pg 13 Untitled Noah Katz ‘19 pg 14 The Dust Sebastien Chesse ‘19 pg 15 The Camp Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 16 Long Island Sound Luke Jovanovic ‘19 pg 17 The Day I Felt Like Little Blackie Luke Jovanovic ‘19 pg 19 Drone Shot Noah Katz ‘19 pg 21 The Triumph on Central Park Concrete James Wlodarczak ‘19 pg 22 Leave Your Mark Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 24 Dog’s Affection Sebastian Morris ‘18 pg 26 Stick to the Path Thomas Harris ‘18 pg 27 True Grit Alex MacLennan ‘19 pg 29 The Rocky Mountains Justin Durso ‘20 pg 31 Tradegy Averted Holden Lipton ‘19 pg 33 The Wave of Life Noah Katz ‘19 pg 35 Sprained Ankle, No Problem Charles Susser ‘19 pg 37 Rush Hour H. Sebastian Ross ‘19 pg 39 One Outta’ 64 Andrew Greff ‘20 pg 41 The Match Benjamin Nayman ‘19 pg 42 Waterfall Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 44
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Coach’s Motivation Alex Wilf ‘19 pg 45 Door Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 47 First Son Third Day on Earth Federico Arengi-Bentivoglio ‘19 pg 48 Vignette Tola Olorode ‘19 pg 51 Lake Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 53 2017 Upper School Winning Speech James Wlodarczak ‘19 pg 55 2017 Middle School Winning Speech Raam Melvani ‘20 pg 58 Photography Series Myles Ringle ‘18 pg 62 The Deal Zach Levy ‘00 pg 67 Acknowledgements pg 81 Donors pg 82
FOREWORD Benjy Sarlin ‘00
P
eople become journalists in different ways. There are some people who fall in love with reporting: They like chatting up strangers to learn their life story or rushing to see something important happen in person just so they can tell others what it was like. They like to paint a mental picture, or find a witty phrase that expresses something true, or gather a bunch of small facts and find a big idea that brings them together. Sometimes, journalists who love reporting have to force themselves to learn writing so that people can understand what they have to say. Other times, journalists who love writing have to force themselves to learn reporting so they can find something worth writing about. I was the second type. I never worked on a school newspaper and I had no idea I’d end up reporting on politics for a living. All I knew was that I was interested in the world and liked writing about it. I learned this in class at AllenStevenson, where I discovered a passion 9
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for history with Mr. Kersey and Mr. Holt while writing essays and even a TV news segment following Jesus through Jerusalem. In English, I learned how to craft a persuasive speech with Mr. MacDougall, tried my hand at poetry with Mr. Persley, and studied up on proper grammar with Mr. Haarmann (I’m still working on that part). Two decades later and life isn’t that different. Writing an article about Congress is like writing a history report, it’s just that the history is happening that minute. Speaking in a TV studio is a lot like giving a speech for your classmates. And if you can think of three good topic sentences, you can think of three good questions to ask a presidential candidate. Of course, I wasn’t the only one with A-S interests that followed me. My classmate Zach Levy, whose life this publication honors, caught the creative writing bug. As a teenager, he wrote a story about growing up that’s included in this years issue. Then he grew up to write stories, with dreams of seeing them on the big screen. So to the talented young storytellers, poets, and photographers in the latest A-Z Files, be proud of your contributions and be warned: You never know where your art will take you next.
Benjy Sarlin ‘00 is a political reporter for NBC News based in Washington, DC. He traveled the country to cover the last two presidential elections and currently reports on Congress and the White House.
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4 One Last Look H. Sebastian Ross ’19
TO REMEMBER David Porges ‘18
What can you remember? Your first day of school? Your first crush? Your greatest achievement? It is not like that for me. What I remember is, the smoke filling the ancient stairwell running out into an unknown future. The stings of gossip. The bitterness of betrayal. The torment of lies They all amount to one thing: Life In life bad things will happen, you will lose someone, you yourself may be lost, but it does not mean that you will be lost forever you can fight to align yourself you can learn from your mistakes, That is what I try to do I think of heroes: George Patton, Duke of Wellington, Andrew Carnegie, A teacher They motivate me They teach me Some may be nameless such as the attorney in Washington defending the wrongly accused, It may be the Doctor in Syria, helping the sick and injured without barely any help of their own. They fight for not just me, but for you, your friends, and your family And your, heroes, your memories, your life, shape the person you want to be, and the person you will become.
WHERE THERE IS A MOUNTAIN Harry Mackay ‘20
Where there is a mountain, You can climb it. Where there is a river, You may swim in it. Where there is a sea, You may dive in it. Where you are asked a question You may solve it. Where something broken is seen, Some would fix it. I would.
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Untitled Noah Katz‘19
THE DUST Sebastien Chesse ‘19
Remember always, dust, so white. The burn. Your nose would bleed. Your skin would burn. Your eyes Would sting, your voice would flee. The dust, so white. In every corner, dust. Inside your hair. Your pants. Your mouth. Your bed. Your dreams. The dust
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THE CAMP Gregory Stone ‘19
Utah, late summer. Nineteen forty-two. A city of tar-paper barracks on a dusty alkaline plain behind a barbed wire fence high up in the desert. The wind was hot and dry and the rain rarely fell. Wherever the boy looked he saw him: Daddy, Papa, Father, Oto-san.
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4 Long Island Sound Luke Jovanovic ‘19
THE DAY I FELT LIKE LITTLE BLACKIE Luke Jovanovic ‘19
It was a beautiful summer evening at Strong’s Water Club and Marina. The cool crisp air was coming off the Long Island Sound as I stretched by the side of the pool. I had volunteered to participate in this year’s swim-a-thon. My mother had pledged $1 per lap and my grandmother had pledged 50¢ per lap. Excitement was running through my veins. Not only was it a swima-thon, but it also was a competition; whoever could swim the most laps and raise the most money would get a trophy. The horn sounded and the swim-a-thon began. At first, I was going at a slower pace. In my mind, I was filled with hopes of swimming 100 laps per hour. There was a giant trophy and a boatload of money getting closer and closer as I swam faster and faster. “One hundred,” I gasped. I looked over at the big clock on the wall. One hour had gone by and there was one hour left to go. I got out of the pool and went to use the bathroom. Once I was there, I puked my guts. I felt miserable and cold. My knees were shaking. It was not a good idea to set the pace that fast. 19
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I wasn’t going to be able to finish. I desired to finish what I had started. Even though I had used up most of my energy, I wasn’t going to let the rest go to waste. I came outside and thought it would be a good idea to swim the rest of the swim-athon on my back, which would force me to go more slowly. I swam about 10 or so laps, but my stomach started to hurt again. But I swam on. Sometimes the pain in my stomach became unbearable as if someone were punching me in the stomach over and over again. “Go Luke! Go Luke!” my mom and swim instructors shouted. After what seemed like forever, the horn sounded, and I held on to the side of the pool, grateful for the end of the Swim-A-Thon with my stomach still hurting.
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Drone Shot Noah Katz ‘19
THE TRIUMPH ON CENTRAL PARK CONCRETE James Wlodarczak ‘19
B
efore the race, the students in my group chose me to be the middle runner. And, just as we chose the groups, the race began. It was a blur. The fast moving streaks of my peers raced around the 200 meter track, batons in hand, dashing to get the upperhand. As the first leg of runners came around the curve, the leading boy was well ahead of the others. Now, the tricky part for these boys: they had to pass the baton to the boy setting up in front of him, in a short space. This was extremely hard for the boy running because he had to find a speed that was not too fast, so the boy that was being passed the baton could not get the baton in time, and not too slow, to not let the other runners past him. But, surprisingly, most of the runners in this leg were powering through and handing the baton to the next runner in the group, correctly. But some runners did not time the baton pass correctly and some batons were given to the partner in an inaccurate way and the baton came loose, clattering on the cold gray
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THE TRIUMPH ON CENTRAL PARK CONCRETE
concrete. Lucky, this misfortune did not happen in our group. And so, this process continued. The passing and receiving of batons. The blur of the boys running round and round. The sun shining through the trees as it hit the dark fleeting shadows. I was elected to be the man at the end, the person who finishes the race off for his team. An extremely hard position, because, if your team lost, they would blame it on the last person in the group, which was me at the time. Again, the blur the runners, the glint of sun hitting batons and the sound of the boys cheering on their team mates that were running. Now, as the last leg was setting up, I noticed my team was behind. To be honest, we were dead last. So, as my team runner passed me the baton, the other runners were well ahead of me. As my partner passed me the baton, something clicked inside of me. A drive. A need to win and a sense that even though my team was down, we would win. From the first step I took, I flew. It was almost as if my feet were off the ground. As I ran, I saw the blur of other runners as a passed them. The glint of the sun through the trees as it hit my face for short moments. And, finally at the end, it was me and the opposing. We were halfway around the 23
Leave Your Mark Gregory Stone ‘19
THE TRIUMPH ON CENTRAL PARK CONCRETE
track. My legs screamed and my whole body ached from the pain of running at this speed for this long. My body was done, and, in that split second, I thought of giving in. But what kept me going was a state of mind that can only be described as grit. Pure fortitude, an almost inferno of courage in me that said that I would not give in to the pain. I must push on. Now, the opposing runner was only 2 feet ahead of me. I heard his heaving breath. I knew that he was tired. Then, there it was. 15 feet ahead of was the finish line. A white mark on the concrete that was my goal. I had to get there. Then, just as I thought I could not sprint any faster, I gave this last burst of energy. The last thing I saw was my leg striding across the finish line in front of the other runner’s. The cries of triumph from the spectators and claps on the back from my teammates were the perfect finish to a triumphant win.
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DOG’S AFFECTION Sebastian Morris ‘18
I walk my dog Theo around town a few times a day and I have been noticing a saddening sight. Homeless people standing outside the local church and supermarkets begging for money and food. It breaks my heart. In a small way I always try to help. Lately I have noticed one particular man, a man who looks older than the other men out there. Worry is etched on his face. Does he fret about how he will survive this tough time? I loosen Theo’s leash so he can approach the man. Many homeless people love the affection that dogs show them. Dogs don’t judge. If a person is friendly and kind, a dog doesn’t care if they are homeless or not. Animals don’t have opinions about how a person looks; they care only how they act. When a person lays a hand on their fur, a dog is happy. Reaching the lonely man, we stopped to say hello and ask how he was doing. He kindly asked for permission to pet my dog and I replied, “Yes.” Theo wagged his tail and enjoyed the affection. I eventually said good-bye to the man who seemed filled with noticeable happiness. As I left I dropped some money into his cup. I knew my meager offering wouldn’t do much, but I hoped the memory of petting my dog would do a whole lot more.
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4 Stick to the Path Thomas Harris ‘18
STICK TO THE PATH Thomas Harris ‘18
Stick to the path you might see sights you may reach your destination, Stick to the path, you’ll be safe maybe even achieve success, But if you stray away from all of its beauty Stray away from the snowy town, the powder filled Churches which lead all to a mountain which too many have seen If you place your own path, build your own town, you may well never see that path again, never return the same way, then and only then are you truly living
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TRUE GRIT Alex MacLennan ‘19
What are you doing at 4:45 in the morning? New York. Winter 2016. 4:45 am. Monday morning. The alarm goes off. I jerk out of bed and turn off my alarm. I spend a couple of minutes trying to wake myself up fully after all it is really early. I head to the kitchen and make myself some breakfast, a bowl of cereal. After finishing the bowl of cereal, next I get dressed. Sweatpants, thick jacket and sweater, it is winter. When I have everything on, I go to pack everything I need for the morning: goggles, a cap, water bottle, a towel. Packing my bag, I am constantly reminded how early it is and how easy it would be to just go back to bed and lay down. But I don’t. I keep going. I leave home around 5:05. Outside is cold and dark. The winter chills you right to the bone at 20° fahrenheit. There isn’t a glimmer of dawn anywhere in the winter morning sky. Still how easy would it be to turn back to fall into bed and fall asleep. But I don’t. I keep going. At the place now. No turning back. I quickly change into my swimming suit and grab my cap and goggles, telling myself 29
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every 2 seconds, It’s only an hour and a half. Last check: goggles, cap, water bottle. I head out to the pool. Coach says hello once we’re all here. He gives us the warm-up and something to work on. He assigns us lanes, and we go to them. 2 minutes until start. I look at the smooth surface of the pool. How cold would it be? I would prefer my head hitting my warm pillow a million times more than the surface of the water. 10 seconds. I check my cap and my goggles. Both are on, tight. Go time. I take a deep breath and jump in.
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THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS Justin Durso ‘20
Tremendous Home To Legendary Animals Excellent Views Rumbling Rocks Outstanding Heights Cold In Winter Known Around The World Year Round Adventures Many Mountains over 12,000 Feet High Outstanding Snowsports Unlike Anything You’ve Ever Seen Never Stops Growing The Second Largest Mountain Range In The World Avalanches Impressive Never Ending Fun Snow Filled
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The Rocky Mountains Justin Durso ‘20
TRAGEDY AVERTED Holden Lipton ‘19
June 17, 2016 at 7:30 am my sisters, Landon and Piper, and I walked into New York Presbyterian Hospital with a look of fear on our faces. All that we knew was that our youngest brother, Walker, and our parents hadn’t come back the night before and that Walker was in the hospital. When we got off the elevator, my dad started talking to us about why we were here. He told us Walker was going to need surgery. I walked into the room and saw Walker sitting in bed very confused about what was going on. Walker saw me crying and asked, “Why are you crying Holden?” Walker is as strong as a LIon. My grandma and my mom’s friend took me for a walk down the hall to regroup, so I wouldn’t make Walker upset. My legs were shaking while walking into the room. Minutes later the doctor said, “We’re ready.” Everybody walked my brother down the hall into a quarantined area where my brother’s surgery took place. My mother went with Walker into the operating room to comfort him until he was put
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to sleep. My two sisters and I started crying. At that moment, I had to be the big brother and show true grit to them. I comforted them and told them, “Walker is going to be fine.” Even though it was beyond hard for me, I had to show grit to my sisters. Walker came out of surgery fine. Later that day, I came back to the hospital to see Walker. He was sleeping, so I didn’t bother him. I sat in the room for 10 minutes just looking at him. I was thinking how much Walker had gone through, and how much he would still have to go through. Walker taught me the true definition of what it means for a human being to exemplify grit.
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THE WAVE OF LIFE Noah Katz ‘19
Ducking, coming up, smashed by waves, wind on my face, I was in the ocean, Long breath, back under. There were big waves that day, getting past every wave. Scared, stuck, trying to think, What should I do? Stop and think. Just do it like Shia Labeouf, I thought. The wave was too big, too small and not powerful enough. All excuses,I said to myself. Just take a wave, I thought. No I am waiting. Wave after wave, I drifted. Then, I paddled over and drifted again. It was cold and windy, water spraying everywhere. Board blowing over flipping back and forth, I was still waiting for the right wave. 10 minutes had gone by with waves either too big or too small. Finally, the right one. I paddled and paddled, missing the wave. I waited again. Even though the wave was not right and not powerful enough, I just went for it. Paddled and paddled, I felt the push and paddled some more. I got ready to stand up. Not yet, wait for it, now, I told myself. I stood up and stayed calm and steady. Keep on pumping like a water pump, don’t fall you will be fine, I thought to myself. I kept my balance, stayed on the wave, and kept on going. Stay focused and don’t fall, stay focused and don’t fall, I repeated in my head. I rode it all the way in to the shore. I had reached land. I walked up the beach thinking, I did it!
The Wave of Life Noah Katz ‘19
SPRAINED ANKLE, NO PROBLEM Charles Susser ‘19
Ouch! All of a sudden a shooting pain came through my foot. I hit the floor hard, I watched with dismay as the other team scored another basket. There were 10 minutes left in the Ultra Leagues final at Camp Schodack. My team, Orange Glory, was losing to Green Elite by 8 points. The ref blew the whistle and came to check on me. My foot hurt really badly. He brought me to my team’s bench. My coach asked me if I wanted to keep playing; without hesitation I responded with yes. I checked back into the game again. My two best friends, Ben and Alex, and I were the stars of the team. Alex brought up the ball up and drove to the lane for 2 points. 42-36 green. The green team took the ball up and attempted a pass to the wing, which was intercepted by me. When I picked my head, I saw Ben streaking up the sideline. I chucked him a long pass. 2 points. Our defense was stout. With 90 seconds left, the score was 46-42 green. The pain in my ankle was growing. Green took the ball up and shot from the 37
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three point line, only to be blocked by our center! He grabbed the ball and launched the ball to Alex for an easy two points. The score was 46 to 44 in favor of the green team. The O-Squad was running out of time. There were only 21 seconds left. Alex took the ball up at a slow pace. With 10 seconds, Ben gave a screen to Alex. Alex kicked the ball outto me in the corner. I pump faked and took a shot. I absorbed contact from the defender while I watched the ball roll in. Everybody was cheering, but we didn’t win yet. I had to make this free throw for the O-Squad to win the championship. I walked up to the free throw and took three deep breaths. I tried to think of something that wasn’t the throbbing pain in my ankle. And I shot the rock, and it went in. With two seconds left, the other team had no chance of scoring. After the handshakes, I was rushed to the health center. They wrapped my ankle up and told me it was a sprain. Let me tell you, that was the best sprained ankle EVER. 38
Rush Hour H. Sebastian Ross ‘19
ONE OUTTA’ 64 Andrew Greff ‘20
Carolina felt a crushing dismay, For they had lost a year ago today, They were oh so close to a major win, They were taunted as they waited for the season to begin. Today is their day, they can’t let it slip, For they were on a tight leash, and needed to keep their grip, Roy Williams, Kennedy Meeks and Justin J, Executed the strategy to help save the day. ‘Cause today is their day against the Zags This year, will they get the win in their bags? Now things are great, UNC’s six titles, I may now rest in peace, for I worship false idols. Many people didn’t expect it, millions of brackets busted, But this all doesn’t matter, for next year a new trophy will be dusted However, this year I shall not be ashamed, ‘Cause my bracket is the winner, family bragging rights I have claimed.
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THE MATCH Benjamin Nayman ‘19
It was the first varsity-wrestling match. I hadn’t been in a competitive situation like this before. I was anxious and felt as if everyone was watching me. I had no idea what to expect. I got onto the mat, all eyes were on me. It felt like I was stepping into a cage with a hungry tiger. I stepped into place on the mat and shook my opponent’s hand. I heard the whistle blow, and we started. The second we locked up, I knew he was much stronger than me. He had been trailing for the entirety of his previous match until pinning his opponent. I knew I couldn’t go toe to toe with him. Eventually, I heard the buzzer go off. The first period was over already, I was out of breath and nothing had even happened yet. To start the second period, I lost the coin toss, and my opponent started with a good chance to score. He was on the bottom, all he had to do was get on his feet, and he would have a one to nothing lead. He got up within twenty seconds. By this point, I started feeling the lack of air in my lungs. I was losing and already starting to run out of energy fast. Then, I had my lucky break. I could bring my opponent 42
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back down to the mat and get two points, giving me the lead. And just like that, I shot in towards him and brought him down hard. The whistle blew, the second period was over. I was already so exhausted that I couldn’t speak and all my surroundings seemed blurry. It was my turn to start off on the bottom. If I could stand up, I would have a safe enough lead to not have to do anything for the rest of the match and win. Suddenly, I remembered how my opponent made a comeback and won in a pin last time. The whistle blew, and we started. I felt him breaking me down. I knew it was over. He was going to pin me and that would be it. I was almost on my back when the whistle blew again. I had managed to crawl out of bounds right before getting turned over onto my back, giving me a chance to restart. That’s when I realized my opponent was even more exhausted than I was. The second we started I sprung up onto my feet, gaining a three to one lead. Neither my opponent nor I had any energy left. We both knew how it would end.
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Waterfall Gregory Stone ‘19
THE COACH’S MOTIVATION Alex Wilf ‘19
The striker on the other team dribbled past me like I wasn’t even there and scored the goal. At that moment, I knew that I needed to become a better defender. It was a blistering hot day, and sweat was running down my face. My coach pulled me aside and told me that if I wanted to become a better soccer player I would have to start working harder. I felt like I wanted to give up because I was bad, but the coach’s words motivated me to strive for greatness. When the game was over, I immediately went with my brother to the park. There was a light breeze, and it smelled like freshly cut grass. Since my brother played goalie, which is a form of defending, I asked him to help me. At first, I was embarrassed to ask him for help, but I knew it was the only way to get better. When we first started training, I had trouble keeping up with him because he was as fast as a cheetah. After a couple of days, I learned all that I needed to. The next day when I woke up, it was game day. I was as nervous as a student on his first day at a new school. I put on my cleats and uniform and headed over to the field. The
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first time I got to test out my new skills, the striker got past me again. Halfway through the game, I was in the same oneon-one situation as earlier. I thought to myself, “this is the moment I’ve been waiting for,” and the I stole the ball and kicked it down the field. I continued to defend much better throughout the rest of the game. I saw the coach smile proudly, as did my Mom and Brother.
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Door Gregory Stone
‘19
FIRST SON THIRD DAY ON EARTH Federico Arengi-Bentivoglio ‘19
Birth Certificate: White, Italian, male Mother: Enrica Murmura, 31, white, Catholic Father: Fabrizio Arengi Bentivoglio, 39, white, Catholic 4 people killed in Canberra, Australia A bush fire like in the Bible November 3rd, Pat LaFontaine is inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame. Outside a blizzard blowing, in the cold cold city of New York. People sledding, jackets on, boots tied. Snowflakes twinkling on their jacket hoods. Two years since 9/11, Yet no one stops trying, Everyone hard at work. I am born, my family is watching. I feel someone kicking me from behind, who could it be? My twin sister, how could this be, I don’t want her, she was kicking me the whole time. This will not be forgotten!
FIRST SON THIRD DAY ON EARTH
Somewhere else, the Lord of the Rings third film debuts, millions watching. I will never watch it though. Gandalf creeps me out. I mean his beard is taller than him, anyways back to the point. And somewhere else, LSU beats Georgia in the College Football Championship game. Jay-Z and Beyonce both drop albums #powercouple I hate football though, so it doesn’t matter. It’s been two years since a suicide bomber killed 21 people at a disco in Tel Aviv. Humans have more power than we think we do, the evidence is there. I do not yet know who I’ll be, what I’ll say, how I’ll say it, what I’ll dream of becoming, soon I will. I don’t know if I will be strong in times of hardship or weep like a little girl, probably both, but I will be endure like the families affected by 9/11. 49
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I will be happy like LSU winning the championship, I will be humble and strive for greatness like Pat LaFontaine; yet, I’m just a few days old, in a cubicle, in the hospital, looking at the ceiling, thinking, “Wow that is a huge ceiling!”
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VIGNETTE Tola Olorode ‘19
I attend the Allen-Stevenson school. Before I attended the Great Oaks School, a charter middle school, where discipline was the focus. Any moment you slipped up, you would pay for anything. Any tiny mistake whether by mistake or on purpose would still be counted towards detention. There was a demerit system, so if you did anything wrong that would be one demerit and six in the same week would be one detention. If you skipped a detention, then you would automatically get six demerits. Detention lasts for two hours and what you do is literally sit upstraight for two hours so you would just be extremely bored. However if you didn’t get detention for that week you get to have a half day on Friday, so basically every Friday was a half day except for those who had detention. However since the school started at 7:30 and ended at 1:30 I still spent 5 hours at school which isn’t that much of a half day. Any little bit of disrespect, even if by accident, which can be as simple as slouching in class, so if you slouched 51
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two times in a week, you’d have detention. This school was built like a jail. My school day started from 7:30 and ended at 4:30, so I was always exhausted. I kept my goal to maintain an A average even with all the distractions in and outside school. I was able to keep my A average even when on a basketball team and taking an instrument which were both outside school. So I had class to deal with plus the kids, who weren’t the most pleasant, basketball, soccer and my instrument. My goal was to get in a private school. My goal lasted one year of hard work. Instead of worrying about my grades I also had to worry about my SSAT, Which I had to take 5 times. I also had to write a few essays for my applications. My goal to get into a private school required pure determination, staying up until 2:00 AM to do my homework, seeing my teachers dealing with the kids at my school at the same time. When people see me now everyone thinks I don’t try but no really knows how hard I worked to get to where I am. I finished the year with zero detentions, straight A’s and an acceptance to the Allen-Stevenson school. 52
Lake Gregory Stone ‘19
2017 UPPER SCHOOL WINNING SPEECH James Wlodarczak ‘19 Would you want to end cancer for good? Would you like to see a future free of alzheimer’s? What would you do if all hereditary disease were cured? Well, this idea may become a reality thanks to the gene editing CRISPR, an innovation in genetic technology. CRISPR, or Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats, was first seen in bacteria. Now, scientists are looking into editing CRISPR so that it can go into human DNA and fix any deficiencies, such as hereditary disease that are passed down from generation to generation in humans. But, CRISPR can do much more than just this. Scientists have found that if CRISPR is edited in the right way, CRISPR may be able to edit an embryo so that it can change the human as a whole. But, would it be a good thing to mess with the human gene pool? What would the outcome be? Now, if CRISPR becomes a reality, and changing a human’s genetic code is a possibility, then people across the world would want to use CRISPR. I mean, who does not want to see the child succeed. A parent would love to 55
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see there kid be extremely strong and fast. But, why not have your child have perfect eyesight, or have an exceptional IQ. But, if CRISPR was created, pretty soon there would be no diversity. Pretty soon, everyone would have exceptional traits through gene editing of CRISPR. Scientists have already started trials with animals. Kamel Khaili, director of the Comprehensive NeuroAIDS Center at Temple University, have successfully cured rats infected with the HIV virus with CRISPR. Already, CRISPR is not very far in the future. We need to set down rules, such as of course we would like to eradicate diseases, but on the other hand, there need to be ethical and moral laws for these exceptional humans. If there are no guidelines about the use of CRISPR, then the idea of diversity will be lost in the past. As CRISPR becomes more and more common, there may become the possibility of world outrage about the idea of changing humans. Everyone has different ideas and 7.1 billion ideas is a lot. This may cause outrage, riots, and marches against this idea of CRISPR. Think about what happened with GMOs. Many people strongly disagreed with the idea of editing foods for a longer shelf life. Many people still disagree with this idea today. Many people will ask in the future “Why would we want to mess with the human gene 56
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pool?” just like people asked in 1994, “Why would we want to mess up perfectly good foods?”. There have already been large gatherings in Washington D.C in February to talk about CRISPR and its affects on society. Now, could the future be full of exceptional beings? Will there be global outrage? Well, only time will tell. But, we all know is that the future coming, and with it, a new era of gene-editing. So, what would you do if you encountered gene-editing in your lifetime. What would you choose?
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2017 MIDDLE SCHOOL WINNING SPEECH Raam Melvani ‘20 I have a question for you. Did any of you write your speech by hand like me? Or did you open your computer, open a new document, and start typing? So I thought. Students throughout the world overuse computers. College professors complain that screens are distraction machines rather than effective tools for academic classes. Children do not go to school to stare at a screen all day. Computers are not worth the risk of your grades, health, and social interaction. Kids go to school to develop important skills like empathy, critical thinking, and debating by participating in live discussions and observing other’s body language. There are many important lessons that you do not learn from computers that are very useful in real life. Computers do not allow students to socialize properly or learn innovatively. When your computer is open, you are focusing on the computer and not the teacher speaking to you. A fascinating study involving students at West Point proves this point well. One-third of the group were allowed to use computers or 58
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tablets to take notes and for research, and another third of the group could use tablets only to look at class materials and the final third was prohibited from using any technology whatsoever. Guess who scored the best on the final exam? Interestingly, the smartest students were harmed the most; it was expected they would use the computers effectively but instead became technology’s biggest victim. They had overestimated their ability to multitask because they soon discovered they could not listen to the teacher and look at the computer at the same time. As research shows, true multitasking is next to impossible. People who take laptops into meetings “just to take notes” are most likely distracted and not listening at all. You can only shake your head at students and teachers who do that. Oops, I should not be checking tennis scores then! Screens also have physical consequences that can affect your health dramatically. Long-term physical damage to your body includes repetitive stress injuries due to the overuse of the mouse and keyboard, back problems from sitting at computer desks, and sleep deprivation, which can cause drowsiness, difficulty concentrating, and depression of the immune system. Secondly, the frequency of light emitted from a screen is not 59
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natural. It is a blue light that causes your melatonin to stay active and awake, making you think that it is day time, even at the pinnacle of night. Finally, when you focus on things intently, your eyes converge slightly and your ciliary muscles adjust the size of the lens to focus on things closer to you. In this way, long periods of focusing causes the eyes to strain, leading to tension headaches and dry eyes. Computers harm your grades, your focus, your intentions at school, and your health. Wouldn’t it just be wiser not to use computers? Especially since a recent report by the OECD stated that there is no “appreciable improvement in reading, mathematics or science,” from computer use anyway. Our body is still in the developing process and the overexploitation of computers can damage our mind in so many different ways. Humans are not built for long-term focus of objects that are close to us. Do we really need computers that harm us in so many different ways? As John F. Kennedy once said, “man is the most extraordinary computer of all.” Thank you.
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PHOTOGRAPHY Myles Ringle ’18
Myles Ringle ‘18: A former student representative for the A-Z Files, Myles is now a student at St. John’s School in Houston TX. He will be attending Phillips Academy Andover in the Fall.
THE DEAL Zach Levy ‘00
I
had anticipated this weekend all summer. See, I had been away for eight weeks at camp - it was my last year there- so I hadn’t really seen them all summer. I couldn’t wait. I kept thinking of the questions I had for them. My brother told me that when the last weekend of summer came, he and his friends would sit me down and let me know “the deal.” I was so excited from the moment he let me know, even though I had no idea what “the deal” was or why I needed to know it. But I did- and that’s all that mattered; I was going to find out, finally. Let me explain; “they” were my brother and his closest friends, and every summer, for the last weekend of the summer, he would invite them all up to our country house. My brother, Adam, had gone to Allen-Stevenson for nine years, and had developed these incredible friendships with a few of his classmates. They were all now in their junior year of high school and despite the fact that they were all scattered around the East Coast at various boarding schools and such, they were never too busy for “the 67
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weekend”; they always found time for that. Every year they would come with their girlfriends and have one final weekend of hedonism before the annual school year began. I, assuming the role of tag-along little brother, enjoyed the weekend as much, if not more, than they did. For it was one of the few times I got to see all my idols in one place for so long. It may sound silly, but I genuinely looked up to a lot of these kids and cared about what they had to say. I usually spoke to them about my class, while they made fun of the kids in it, and told them funny stories about things that happened over the course of the year. Some of them would laugh, some of them would smirk, and some of them would just stare at me- hating me because of the stories my brother had told them. My brother had a habit of making up lies about me and telling them to his friends when we got into a fight. He knew I looked up to them and that this would bother me more than anything else he could do. I was naive at the time and didn’t realize the fact that kids I didn’t know, hearing lies about me didn’t really matter a whole lot, but as I said, I was naive; and it did. I guess you could say that I was a tad self-involved because I assumed that this was all they ever talked about. I would sometimes go to 68
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such extremes as to call his friends and let them know that what Adam told them wasn’t true, and usually throw in a lie about him just to keep things interesting. These calls would usually be met with an abrupt, “what the hell are you talking about?” or “Who is this again?” or the ever-popular “-click-.” It didn’t matter; I was determined to be cool this time. I was going to force them to like me by being so damn cool that they couldn’t resist. All I ever wanted from them was to be included, and to be treated like one of the gang. That and to learn as much as I possibly could about life, love, high-school, popularity and the teenage social scene, before school started on Tuesday. The weekend didn’t begin exactly how I planned. First, instead of driving up in our car and the accompanying renta-car, they decided to take the bus. I, on the other hand, was stuck in our car with my parents and my dog, bored out of my mind, growing more and more jealous of the fun I knew they were having without me. As a result, when I arrived at the house I decided that I was too cranky to start having fun just yet, so instead I went up to my room, closed the door, and turned up the music. I guess I turned it up too loud because I didn’t hear the others 69
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arrive. I came downstairs about an hour and a half later and asked my mom where everyone was and told her I had been waiting for them all night. She said, knowing how much I idolized them. “I’m sorry honey, the boys just left. They got here about an hour ago- I thought you knew. They were downstairs playing ping-pong and pool for a while and then they all went outside and played basketball. I’m sorry honey, they’ll be back in a few hours.” It was about 11:00 pm at the time and a few hours was a long way away, but I had set out to have fun tonight and it was my destiny to do so. So I waited and wait and waited. I was half-asleep on the couch when they arrived- just shy of 3:00 A.M. I rushed outside to see them. I said my “hey’s” and gave my “what’s ups?” to the appropriate people and then asked if I could join them in their annual nighttime pool basketball game. They replied, we already have eight people to play- you can be a sub. Oh, how I loathed that word- sub. Subs were the kids who weren’t good enough to start the game, but sufficient enough to replace them when they got tired, or bored. Despite my personal convictions I assumed my role as a sub, and anticipated the moment I could show them how much better I had gotten since last year. 70
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Since this was pool-basketball, the rim was a lean two feet off the ground so nobody had any height or size advantage over anyone else; we were all equal. Predictably, nobody ever wanted to sub, and therefor I never got to play, but what I got in exchange was worth much more. I was sitting in a lounge chair, sort of upset about not getting to play, when Adam, Sean, and his girlfriend Erica came over and sat down next to me. They told me they were sorry I didn’t get to play, and that they wanted to know how they could make it up to me. I told them I was fine and all I wanted to do was to hang out with them. We all started talking; they asked me about my summer, my friends and my “girl situation.” We continued talking, and then I finally asked my brother about “the deal.” They all started laughing and then Adam explained to me that the deal wasn’t something in particular, but more a mindset one has once they’ve matured. To tell you the truth, I was pretty disappointed in his response, but intrigued nonetheless. “You’ll look at things from an adult perspective, instead of a child’s. You’ll do things that are more mature than you’re used to, and enjoy them.You’ll have “relationships,” not girlfriends. 71
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You’ll control your life; mom and dad will not. You’ll see things for what they can be, instead of what they are. Basically, the deal is becoming a man; and when you do you you’ll know it.” This was all very overwhelming but I stepped up to the challenge. “That sounds cool,” I said, “but how am I going to be a man in 72 hours?” “You won’t become a man, but we’ll have planted all the seeds and it’ll be up to you to grow,” Sean, ever the philosopher, added. “I’m definitely ready to start planting those seeds but it’s 4:00 A.M. so I’m going to bed.” The next day I woke up and went downstairs for breakfast. Jack and Mokey, two of my brother’s best friends, were already there. “We heard what Adam told you last night. Are you down?” “I’m down,” I replied. “Good. As soon as you’re done with breakfast meet us outside,” Jack said with a slight smile. I finished my Captain Crunch and was on my way. “Would a man eat Captain Crunch?” I thought to myself. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.” I headed out through the garage to meet them. They threw a basketball at me and said, “Every man should be able to play ball. You don’t have to be great, you just have 72
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to be good enough to hold your own. No respectable man gets teased for being bad at sports.” This sounded a little harsh at first, but I was devoted to being a sponge this weekend and absorb any information that came my way. They taught me ways to dribble that would make it look like I knew what I was doing, even though I didn’t. This included dribbling through my legs, even if it’s not necessary, no-look passes and weak side fakes. I didn’t see the point in being able to do all these fancy moves if I couldn’t hit a jump shot, but again, I was only a sponge. Next, they showed me the proper way to hit a fadeaway three pointer. Not once did they actually make the shot while teaching me, but it was still the proper way- the man’s way. Once I completed my little training session we hopped into two cars and headed for the beach. We drove past the usual spot we visited when I came with my family and headed further down the beach. Instead of asking where we were going I just sat back and let them drive. When we got there it was like nothing I had ever seen. There were hundreds of teenagers, and not an adult in sight. I had never seen this part of Atlantic Ave. Beach before and man was I excited. Partying everywhere- kids playing loud music, surfers catching huge waves, 73
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football games and some of the hottest girls I had ever seen! It seemed like a different world, but in all actuality it was only two miles further down the beach than I usually went. We set up a couple sheets, broke out the stereo and the cooler: and chilled. I discovered that I had never truly chilled before because all this was new to me. Then we all ran into the water and had a great time. Matt, another friend of my brother’s, showed me the proper way to body surf and how not to look stupid in front of girls while doing so. While teaching me, Matt caught the eye of this gorgeous brunette and they exchanged flirtatious looks. He then walked over to her and brought me with him. He said we were 18 and that we had just graduated high school. I almost burst out laughing; I hadn’t even started high school and already I was finished. I don’t think she bought it, but her friend did. She was this tall blonde who didn’t look more than 15 and since she believed I was 18 was pretty stupid as well. Nevertheless, we talked in the water, and then we got out and talked on the beach. We talked for about an hour, and then she left with her friends. She told me to call her and gave me her number. When I returned to our blanket all my 74
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brother said was, “I don’t want to know the details, but you’re now officially becoming a man.” I was so excited. It was so rare that my brother complimented me, so it made this statement a lot more meaningful. We left the beach as the sun started to go down and headed for the house. That night, we all went into town for dinner and a movie. We, or should I say they, discussed politics the entire time. It was at the time of the Monica Lewinsky scandal, and they were discussing the President’s possible impeachment. All I knew about the scandal was the dick jokes I had heard on T.V. so I just nodded along the whole time. I think I discovered a new element necessary for becoming a man- the art of bullshitting. We got back to my house at about one in the morning. They were all playing poker outside, when Mokey asked me if I’d like to join them. Of course, I said yes, but there was a required pot of twenty dollars that each person needed to be able to play. I reluctantly accepted and headed outside to the makeshift poker table they had assembled out of boxes. They were smoking cigars and drinking beers and looked like bonafide men. We played a few hands and I lost all my money, but they still let me stay. All I did was 75
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listen; I didn’t say a word. They were discussing what they’d be like in ten years. Each person had a unique idea of what their future was going to be like and whom it was going to include. They also vowed that in ten years everybody, no matter what was going on, was going to have to reunite for another weekend at our country house. Adam and Jack talked about how they were going to be in the entertainment industry by then and are going to have the hottest women come with them. Mokey and Matt said how they were going to be hot shot wall street stock brokers and are going to pull up to the house in matching green and white BMW’s [they are die hard Jets fans.] What Sean said interested me the most. “No offense or anything, but I hope I’m not around here in ten years. I have no idea what I want to be, or where I want to live, but I know I don’t want to be the same person I am today, ten years from now. I want to have moved on to the next stage of my life.” Everyone sat there in silence, until Sean said, “Ah, who cares about all that now, we’re teenagers, we’ve got all the time in the world. Let’s play some poker!” And they did. I went to sleep and they were still playing, and they played on through the night. The next morning I ran down stairs to 76
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make sure the others didn’t begin their day without me. But I was too late. They had already left; they had driven to their friend Robbie’s, about an hour away. Disappointed I called my friend Scott and met up with him. We went to the beach and went boogie boarding and I told him about that girl that I had met. He seemed impressed, which is exactly what I wanted him to feel, and asked if I was going to call her. I wasn’t sure if I was going to or not, so I told him, “Of course. Look who you’re talking to!” I’m not really sure why I said that. I had always tried to keep up this façade when talking to my friends. I always pretend to be this guy that I wasn’t, this perfect guy who had everything going for him, and it was really starting to bother me. We got picked up by my dad and dropped in town. We were walking around, sort of aimlessly, when we saw this group of girls our age. We walked over to them and started talking. We fed them our usual B.S. about being 16 year olds who were just visiting from boarding school. They ate it up, and told us they were only 14 and that they were from the city. In a move that shocked me just as much as it did Scott- I told them the truth. I told them how we always tell girls these lies to make ourselves look 77
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better, that we were actually 14 also. They were pissed off at us for lying and walked away. But then this girl came back. She gave us her number and said to call her anytime; she lived in the city. She ran back to her friends and Scott and I walked away. He was yelling at me, asking why I blew our spot like that. I told him that it was better that they know the truth, because otherwise they wouldn’t be liking us for who we are, they’d be liking the guys we want to be. He seemed confused, but I certainly wasn’t. All the things my brother and his friend’s had been telling me all weekend had finally started to seep in. I woke up early the next morning to make sure the others didn’t leave me behind. Apparently my alarm wasn’t working correctly because instead of 9:00, it went off at 7:00 A.M. It was actually kind of nice being the first one up for once. I made breakfast: toast, orange juice and special K, grabbed the paper and headed outside. Everything looked different at this time in the morning. The grass was moist with freshly-fallen dew; the sky looked like it was still “waking up.” The sun was gradually getting brighter and the clouds were losing their structure and starting to disappear. I lay there looking up at the sky- it was so soothing! Instead 78
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of grabbing the sports section, I opted for world news and the Metro Section. I sat there for the next few hours, truly peaceful, relishing in my relaxation. The others woke up and immediately went downstairs to play one last game of pool before their afternoon bus came and ended their weekend of fun delivering them back to their everyday lives- just in time for school! I went down and watched and listened to them. As I was sitting there watching them I had a epiphany of sorts. For so many years, I had tried to be them. I tried to dress like them, I tried to talk like them, I tried to act like them and truly idolized them. They were still my idols, not in the Babe Ruth heroic sense of the word, but in the sense that I genuinely looked up to them. I realized then that I didn’t want to be them after all and I liked the person that I was. It sounds so corny and contrived but it was true, so it didn’t matter. I asked Mokey how I would be able to know when I became a man and they said, “Don’t worry you’re not a man yet. You’re still a wuss. Trust me.” I was a little disappointed in his response because I had been trying so hard to become a man all weekend and I was still just a “wuss.” Regardless, I thought I had matured a lot that weekend and 79
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even if I wasn’t a man, I was on my way to becoming one- the seeds had been planted. Everybody was all packed up and ready to go. I headed downstairs and said goodbye to everyone. They were all pretty depressed that school was starting in a day so I didn’t bother them too much with questions about the deal. When I said bye to my brother he said, “Don’t worry. Even though we mess with you a lot you’re a pretty chill kid. To tell you the truth- none of us know what we’re talking about. Becoming a man isn’t about completing certain eventsit’s not a Boy Scout badge. It’s only a mindset, remember that. And don’t try so hard, it’ll happen soon enough.” As I waved them off I realized that I had changed that weekend. I wasn’t the same person I was on Friday; my mindset was different. I had matured. And it wasn’t because I learned to play ball or body surf or lie to girls about my age. For once I had actually been myself and was pleasantly surprised with the result.
Zach Levy ‘00, to whom this publication is dedicated, was an avid writer from a young age. He found his voice at Allen-Stevenson and continued to develop his craft his entire life. This is a piece he produced in high school at The Trevor Day School.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
W
e would like to thank everyone who has helped us get here. This is the fifth edition of the A-Z Files, which would not have been possible without the generosity of all our donors and the support of the entire Allen-Stevenson Community. Thank you to David Trower for allowing us to memorialize our childhood friend and to David Kersey for guiding us in the appropriate direction to do so. David Smith who picked up the torch this year in helping us reach our goal. A special thank you to Pete Haarmann. His sustained encouragement year after year makes the A-Z Files come to life. He is joined by the wonderful assistance of Steven Cohen, Susan Lukas, Anne Rawley and Meghan Wall. And finally to the Levy Family: Helen, Mike, and Adam, we greatly appreciate you allowing us to share the spirit of Zach with a future generation and allowing others to hear his voice in his own words this year. A heartfelt thank you to all!
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DONORS Zachary P. Levy ‘00 Memorial Fund
NOBEL SOCIETY Michael & Helen Levy, Lawrence D. Hite, Richard & Denise Mulcahy PULITZER CIRCLE Zeynep Eken, Helen & Howard Freedman PEN/FAULKNER FELLOW Arielle & Cliff Bayer, Ayse & Necdet Bezmen, Meredith Thalheimer , Joan & Charles Blanksteen, Caitlin & Kerim Eken ‘00, Nermin Esen, Izzie Lerer, The Ken Pollak Family, Fran Lippa & Rick Rohn, Beth & Bob Sheehan, Will Sheehan MAN BOOKER BOARD Josh Aghravi, Dan Friedman & Michelle Andelman, Anonymous, Virginia Volante Appel, Paul Arnhold, Berin Bezmen, Jonathan Blanksteen ‘00, Jamie & Aaron Books, Lauren & Ryan Borg, Joshua Chaffee, Anne Chellas, Ian M. Dana ‘97, Matthew Dresher, Jess Eisen, Allison Feldman, Ginevra Figg, Micheal Friedman & Lauren Fedorko, Alex Friedman, Alex Funk ‘00, Lara & Adam Gillman, Jordan Gillman, Paul 82
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& Renee Haas, Steven Handwerker ‘03, Scott Handwerker ‘00, Debbie Cooper & Kevin Handwerker, Tim Howell, Dana, Jeff & Matt Hynick, Lauren Wood & Conor Izzett, Tim Kirby ‘00, Jon Klebanoff ‘00 & Maya Deshmukh, Susan Hirschhorn & Arthur Klebanoff, Brian Lamb, Ethan Levy, Adam Levy ‘97, Erin Levy, Jacqui & Ron Liberman, Jamie Magid ‘91, John Murray, Katie Robin, John Rosen, Rachel Rosenberg, Emily Rudman, Benjy Sarlin ‘00, Matthew Scharfstein ‘00, Kate Schlosstein, Megan & Midhat Serbagi ‘97, Dillon K. Springer ‘00, Joshua Steinberg, Christopher Stone, Deborah Forte & Peter Stone, Nicholas Tapert ‘00, Cameron Tung, Kevin VanLandingham, Melissa Wilner, Rachel & Jared Zolna NEWBURY CLUB Anonymous, Anonymous, Jessica Barrett, Jamie Bass, John Benedetto, Talin Bezmen, Lauren Appel & Karyn Brownson, Jordan Cerf, Katy Cheng, Tim Clinton, Susan Crile, Amy D’Annunzio, Serra Eken, Amanda & Zach Fox, Lauren Freedman, Louise & Howie Freilich, Elaine & Arthur Friedman, Claire Friedman, Mike Fung, Lindsey Goodman, Lauren & Brian Koffler, Ben Krauss, Abby Leber,
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Josh Levy, McFly Levy, Ben Lewis, Sam Lichtenburg-Scanlan, Tal Madanes, Lisa Ray, Alex Rosario ‘00, Sarah RuelBergeron, Hadley Springer, Samantha Steinberg, Carter Stone, Damian VanCamp ‘00, Jas Wagstaff, Jeff Warren, Melissa & Jared Weil, Jay Woodworth & Frances Fox, Jessica Zanan SUPPORTERS Jonathan Aghravi, Beth Appel, Guillermo Artiles, Caitlin & Eric Bitzegaio, Ari Bornstein,David Braily, Jay Caretsky, Ben Carron Greg Cayne, Brook Cohen, Sarah Claspell, Leila Cohan-Miccio, Matt Cutler, Andrew L. Daidone, Ashley Eisenstadt, Matt Elkin ‘99, Adam Fields, Jack Germain, Pete Haarmann, Alex Ingram ‘03, Derek Jacobs, Tommy Kahn, Brian Kennedy, Alex Klein, Prescott Loveland, Andrea Lusso Matt Moskovciak, Jack Pesin ‘97, Josephine Porco, Janna Raskopf, Mike Schutzer, Becca Skolnick, Laurence Smith ‘00, Ashley Springer ‘97, Maria Sternfeld, Gilmar Valencia, Paul Welsh, Alex Whitman
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THE ALLEN-STEVENSON SCHOOL 2017