pg.2
A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR
a thank you for reading what is The Explorer? what does this magazine cover?
HARD WORK pg.3 what is the most important lesson you learned growing up?
pg.9 what did you wish for the most growing up? did you get it?
MY HAIR
CARETAKER
pg.17 when you are older, how did your experience growing up shape you?
SUBMISSIONS FOR ISSUES 2 & 3 pg.21 submit to our next winter and spring issues! themes and all info here
what is the theme for this issue? how did we explore the theme? what did we ask?
SOMEONE'S FRIEND pg.6 what will you remember about others the most as you grow up?
THE MAGIC pg.13 when you grow older, what will you recall the most fondly about your childhood?
CLASSICAL MUSIC pg.19 what should we do when we are growing up?
ISSUE THEME: GROWING UP CREDITS pg.23 the lives we've led, the stories we've read, and the memories we've yet to make
Our theme centered around the idea of growing up or experiencing one's coming of age and entering the adult world. Everyone must grow up eventually, but we all go down different roads and detours that shape the rest of our lives.
Since everyone has vastly different childhoods, differing experiences growing up, and divergent thoughts on what growing up even means, we asked the writers to share what they thought were the most memorable or important parts of their experience growing up. This volume is a collection narratives and beliefs that sheds insight into competing interpretations and stories.
The Explorer's mission is to explore various topics that connect all of humanity regardless of culture, border, or age. The articles shared in this magazine reflect a snapshot of the writers at a certain time, aggregating their stories and perspectives from around the world. We hope that as you read this issue, you take a moment to reflect on your own experiences that you had growing up, and think on the things that all of us around the world have in common.
Brian Zhou, Editor-in-chiefFrom the time I was thrown behind the bars of middle school, my parents have forced upon me an unbreakable and momentous paradox: hard work. Of course, there is no success without working hard, but what is the cost of our diligence?
I grew up in a Chinese family that stressed the importance of academic prowess and going to a prestigious college. The societal norms that my parents were taught as children were directed towards hard work in academia, and now, although living in a different society, they redirected this culture to me and my siblings. Yet, unlike the quintessential Asian parents, academics wasn’t the soul and lifeblood of our childhood. We didn’t need to be the best in math, coding, or writing. There is no denying that our parents did make us work hard to keep our academics up. But, in the end, our attitude in life was more important to them. “Life is like a marathon,” my mother often told me, “You can’t run too hard in the beginning, or else you might tire out. Reach for the long term rather than the short term.”
Their unique approach to life came partly from their experiences with my brother, who thought his life was being wasted. He didn’t want to squander the “prime of his life” by studying day and night, and he fought vigorously, sometimes against the wishes of my parents, to enjoy the present as much as he could. He sought adventure and hardship. He sought purpose. He wanted to become a Navy SEAL. To the rest of his family, it seemed like an outlandish dream. To him, however, it was his one true passion. He perceived that his life would be pointless if he did not earnestly pursue his ambitions. Now, a year later, he is preparing to leave for college, still with the same attitude as before but with his plans of becoming a SEAL postponed After he leaves, it will be me next. My time for college is soon approaching, and my brother’s prospective departure has left me wondering: was he right?
We asked David what he learned growing up. His answer?
The paradox is this: working hard from an early age to invest in a better future allows us to work less in the future but minimizes our enjoyment of the present. On the other hand, waiting until we are older forces us to work hard in the future, but it allows us to find joy in the present. Even so, there are also other variables to this equation. What is the end goal? Enjoyment? Accomplishing as much as possible? Or having a plethora of happy memories? Furthermore, isn’t the past obsolete? Past happiness or sorrow does not translate over to the present. What we felt or experienced before only exists in memory, and those memories are often forgotten. Therefore, where we are in the present is really the only thing that matters. So then, is it better to work hard in the beginning and relax later since only the end result matters? Perhaps life is a marathon. What a runner felt at the beginning of the race is irrelevant. What matters is what place he or she currently is in and how well they feel. The problem is that runners have numerous attempts to improve their time. We only have one.
I feel that there are just too many options. Between the competitiveness of academics and sports, the social pressures faced by all high school students, and the pull of relaxation and recreation, it is difficult for teenagers to decide how they should spend their time. Growing up leads to independence and more decisions. Growing up also leads to more chances of regret.
Once again, how should one spend their life? What is the end goal? Well, it’s simple. It depends on the person and what they value the most. Therefore, it is essential for teenagers to spend the time they have to discover themselves. Only by understanding one’s true interests can people maximize their life, meaning that hard work should be directed towards uncovering those interests. Needless to say, we should still work hard in aspects of life that we may not find as interesting. However, one of our top priorities is still to discover ourselves. In many ways my brother was right. He discovered what he wanted to become and worked towards that aspiration. Following the path a parent or friend gives us only leads to superficial success. Hard work does pay off, but if we work hard towards something we hate, does it give us the payment that we want?
Many parents in the Asian community, I believe, are too fixated on pushing their kids into subjects they think are beneficial. Of course, math, science, literature, and other core subjects are all fundamental things for students to know, and some students really enjoy those subjects. Nevertheless, people have different interests in life. Everyone is unique. Thus, the more important thing that they should be doing is pushing their children to explore different activities or topics. Children need to be nurtured into actual human beings who have distinctive beliefs and personalities.
Yet, their actions are understandable
Many of these parents, including my own, grew up in a competitive world and had fewer opportunities to pursue their dreams. For them, walking the path of academics was the only option for a good life. I am grateful to my parents for encouraging me to study hard, but I am even more grateful for their leniency. Many Asian parents are trying to live their own life through their children, pursuing things they believe to be important and avoiding “mistakes” that they made themselves. This, in itself, is the real mistake.
Hard work as a teenager should be focused on discovering one’s identity and passions, not achieving some reward for the sake of others. Doing anything else, although still beneficial, is somewhat misdirected. My life isn’t just a marathon if I’m not a runner. It can be a roller coaster, a plane flight, or anything else. All I have to do now is discover what I want my life to be.
Hi! I am David Sheng, a sophomore attending McLean High School in McLean, Virginia, and I love running for my school’s Cross Country and Track team. In addition to writing and running, I enjoy math, computer science, and traveling across the world. My most recent destination was Iceland! I also love reading books and watching movies, though I rarely have time for them any more. For the theme of Growing Up, I took a look at my life from a broad perspective and questioned the basic principles of life that I grew up with, leading to my topic about working hard at an early age. I wanted to express my confusion regarding academic pursuit, and I was greatly inspired by the disparity between my many goals and by my growing desire to “maximize my life.” My topic, although mainly focusing on personal experience, treds into the realm of philosophy as well, which has always interested me. In writing this essay, I wanted to not only better understand my own life but also to inspire other students like me to “discover themselves” as well.
I reluctantly slide the bookmark in, my neck already growing sore from arching over the pages of my novel but my mind unwilling to think of another activity. Aside from the usual errands of this morning, the rest of the day has been uneventful. The front door sighs open and my brother leads a small brown boy into the hallway, announcing his arrival to my father, who stoops over the piano bench in the living room untying his running shoes. The small boy is my brother’s friend, whose mop of dark hair and shy demeanor contrast sharply with my brother’s boisterous energy. My brother’s pale skin is glossy with sweat and slightly pimpled, a change my parents have complained to him endlessly about. The two boys quickly descend into the basement, muttering something about looking for a board game. My brother has another friend, and it is him I find myself thinking about as I watch the basement door swing closed behind them, lost in the memories.
My mind takes me back to the afternoons last summer when he would come over after swim practice to make a quick cheese quesadilla in the kitchen with my brother and I and tease me over my own preferred lunch of yogurt with oats.
It never really felt like teasing, though, nothing he said ever did. It felt like the kind of friendly banter I find myself longing for every day since then. After lunch, he and my brother would leave me under the pretense of finding something to do, and I, resigned to my lonely fate, would silently put away my yogurt bowl and attempt to occupy my own time. But, minutes later, I would always hear the gentle knock on my bedroom door, accompanied by the timid yet strangely confident question: “would you like to play a game with us?” I always had to try my hardest to keep the unmanageable joy out of my voice when I accepted his request, but the smile that appeared whenever he spoke his simple invitation always betrayed me. The memories of those past summers are strong and, I’ve since noticed, marked by an unwelcome sense of longing.
As I shift my seat on the couch, I realize it’s been a long time since my brother’s friend has ever asked me to participate in their games. I remember I still carried the false idea of his friendship when school started; remember the attempted conversations about lunch schedules or football practice that I had hoped would remind him that I still existed, still waited for his invitation to their games, still waited for the soft knock on my bedroom door that beckoned me into their play and told me, more than anything else, that I was wanted. That I was someone’s friend.
That there was someone who, even if he knew my brother far better than he knew me, actually wanted to spend time with me. I reminisce once again, thinking of all the someones, who, like him, used to make me feel like I was wanted. I think back to the hours the girl down the street and I would play Littlest Pet Shops in her room, making up stories that ran for weeks on end like too many seasons of a TV sitcom. I picture myself running laps around the neighborhood with the boy from the park on my scooter, or laughing on the back deck with the siblings next door. All of them people who, I’ve since learned, have found better ways to occupy their time.
I’ll admit I had anticipated a lot of change the year I started high school. It was my first year in a public school, having been homeschooled for the previous eight years. My first experience in the ‘real world,’ you could say. But I would have never guessed that high school meant looking around my neighborhood and finding the people who first taught me what it felt like to be someone’s friend have moved on. Replacing their company are the proud parents, always happy to inform me about the swim medals they’ve won, the clubs they’ve joined, the extracurriculars they’ve enrolled in, anything else that makes my own lack of achievements glaringly obvious in comparison. As I go into my sophomore year, I’m left to wonder: should I be at a sports practice, training to become the next tennis or soccer star instead of spending another afternoon on the couch, waiting for a friend to knock?
Should I be always on the way to the next activity, reducing all my childhood friends to little more than contacts on my phone instead of wandering down memory lane, wishing for the times when I was someone other people wanted to spend time with?
Am I just late to the realization that in order to succeed in high school, the people who showed us what friendship meant, the ones who first made us feel like we were wanted, must be left behind in order to make room for more beneficial, college application-worthy uses of our time?
The girl down the street got a job lifeguarding this summer. The boy from the park is working too, and the siblings next door are busy enough with afterschool activities and music lessons. My brother’s friend has moved on, and I find myself thinking more than ever now, maybe I should too.
But I can’t move on. I still wait for the knock on my bedroom door inviting me into another game. I still wait for the people who made me feel like I had friends, real, true friends, to remember the times we spent together and want to relive them just as badly as I do. I still see the neighborhood kids who used to spend their weekends playing Legos at my house now busy with boyfriends, homework, and a slew of extracurricular activities, and I wonder, is this what high school means?
And maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the only one going into this next school year not wishing for a boyfriend or a perfect report card or a school trophy, just to be someone’s friend again.
But if I’m not, I wonder, how many people are still waiting for the invitation that told them they were wanted? That someone, somewhere, wanted to be their friend? I don’t know when I’ll be able to finally move on, forget it all and focus on what high school has to offer. But, as I pull my bookmark back out and try to ignore my brother’s banter downstairs, I know this: no matter how many activities I find myself in, no matter how many clubs I’ve joined, no matter how many sports games I’ve played in or medals I’ve won, I’ll never be able to forget what it felt like to be someone’s friend.
Hi, I’m Natalie, a homeschooled sophomore from a little town in southern Maryland. I love good books, sharing my lap with a cat, spending an evening staring up at a full moon, and waking up early enough to hear the first bird sing. And I love stories. When I thought about growing up, I thought about my story. I thought about the many hours spent careening around my neighborhood on a pair of scratched rollerblades, or the mornings that began with wrestling my brother for the TV remote. I thought about being homeschooled, and spending the better part of a school day tromping through the woods behind my house. I thought about holding my baby sister in my arms for the first time, and I thought about the day we brought my cat (and best friend) home from the animal shelter.
But as I wandered through the memories, the parts of my story that kept coming back to my mind were the lonely, messy, and difficult chapters that have helped me realize all that my story means to me. I chose to write about what it feels like to be abandoned because ever since then, I’ve found myself all the more grateful for the people who chose, even if it was only for a season, to be a part of my story. And my story is the story of a girl who’s messy. It’s the story of a girl who’s broken. It’s the story of a girl who makes mistakes and loves and laughs and gets hurt and loves again because she can’t get over how being loved makes her feel. My story is the story of that girl growing up. And growing up, let’s face it, is hard. It’s full of disappointments, broken promises, dashed expectations, and the awkwardness that comes with figuring out who you’re supposed to be. But if I hadn’t known what it was like to be abandoned, I never would have appreciated the people who made me feel wanted. If I was spared from ever feeling what it was like to be lonely, I couldn’t possibly have understood the joy of being called someone’s friend. If I never knew what it was like to live through the difficult chapters of my story, I never would have felt like I had a story to tell. So, dear readers, my question to you is this. What is your story? Because however awkward, however sad, however messy and hard and lonely it is, it’s yours. So go tell it.
I reflect on myself as a little girl; delicate furls collapse atop my head in frail contortions so that it is only sickly wisps of red covering my skin. I had too little hair for a girl with such a passion for hair accessories. I wanted so badly to hold ties and clips with my hair and feel the leisure of a light thread brushing against my neck. I longed for hair big enough to coat me in womanly grace. To envelop me in its explicit narrative and endow me the fullness of my role in life. Its lavish body would fix me into my delicate position in this world, and It would suit me. I wanted it to be long and pretty, to be complete.
That is to say, I wanted it to grow.
Naturally, with growth, I assumed, came satisfaction, fulfillment of myself; a fantastical realization of me. With this maturation, I had expected a soothing coherence of the ostentatious and irregular respires of sensation and feeling I had known life to be thus far, and of course, longer hair. Yes, surely this day would come with growth. But before then I had to wait, languishing in my incompleteness and believing only when I reached this day would I be relieved of it. For every moment was not as true and completely good as the moment my hair was long and I was big; the moment I came into myself. So, I sat with this restless gaze, fidgeting, and longing for this moment where I might be sure. So that I could finally be absolved into steady goodness and ease. This is how I felt: a constant discomfort and unwholesomeness until the time came when I was fully my right and absolute self. And so I waited.
Lily asked herself what she wished for the most growing up. Her answer?
My hair grew long and pretty It grew deep with experience; it had become calmer with time and browned a wise, rich shade of its once wild red. I could now feel its delicate tendrils caress between my shoulder blades, an intimate becoming of my body. It is just as I had wished. But what is this? I realized that despite my becoming - I was still waiting. Still unsure and unwhole in myself. The feelings of doubt and unsteadiness had not subsided; I had not become a being of profound awareness, nor felt certain of my identity. In fact, I had not reached any absolute certainty of any kind. But my hair had reached record lengths. So, how can I be fulfilled and not feel fulfilled? The itinerary of my understanding had been sorely violated. The schematics of my feelings, totally miscalculated. The rate my hair had progressed was so far ahead of my expected epiphanies and profound realizations that I was beginning to become concerned. Maybe this was a scheduling issue. Maybe I had not matured quite right or at the right time. Maybe my body was rushed and early, so induced by my eagerness on the subject. Maybe there was something wrong with me, and an even subsequently scarier thoughtmaybe it was my fault. I bargained with myself, and finally decided to wait some more. It was edging on my 18th Birthday, and these feelings, no matter how many times I reached relentlessly for totality and pureness, never gave up their dissonant dances through my mind. Their shrill flux flared in me still, inharmoniously and seemingly with no end.
There was no climax to reach a conclusion, only constant and futile fluctuation. My hair was long and it had been long and I had waited for such a time that I began to question my perspective itself. Anne Rice says in her novel, Violin, “So hair does stand on end, even when you are lying, all crushed in your own hair on a pillow, with one arm flung out… Yes, my body went into its little war with my mind,” maybe this war was in me. My body growing and plumping while the ever chaotic unresolve barely fills me out, still. Such fear, present with such leisure. Such doubt present with such prosperity.
How could my body be so definitely bigger and my experiences no more sure? Different, but not any more absolute. A flat-lining change compared to the exponentiality of my physical state. And so here is my body lying, with one arm flung out, the plump face of fullness. And here is my mind, standing on end. My body, fulfilled, and my mind in the same wanting state in which it had always been. Disparate and unsure, I was becoming an adult. Grown, and yet with the same existential understating and wonder of a child. In this unfulfillment, I began to consider the length of my hair may not be synonymous with my attainment of the absolute knowledge of the universe. I began to meet a new perspective. I began to think of my wish for long hair, and what I had really wished for: the absence of this ever-present uncertainty. The feeling I assumed would come with the length of my hair - catharsis.
A sweet salve to the dogged ache of doubt
This ever elusive sense of completeness and void of insecurity I was longing for I had associated with how big I was, how grown up I was. Because grown-ups know things. Right?
Having just turned 18, I can impart to you now the great sagacity that comes with the endowment of adulthood. It is - that I lack, still, the omniscience and certainty for which I have so long waited. And in lacking, I question if such a state is even attainable, and I think, maybe I will never find sovereign sureness and feel total relief. I question the linear hierarchy of growth and knowledge; maybe there isn’t a definite path leading to absolute rightness in all things. Maybe there is no one thing more right than the other; maybe everything simply is. Maybe existing as we do now involves a wondrous, eclectic garland of experience and sensation, and there is no end to these inflections of chaos that erupt in us, the arrhythmic and sudden swells of feeling. Maybe there, in this incessant uncertainty, is a choice to allow such discomfort to exist as a part of this experience. Because maybe life is not meant to be one good thing. My answer - now that I am big and my hair is long? Well, I am not certain, and I don’t know that I ever will be.
Lily Grace Bennear is a senior from Maryland currently attending homeschool and is dually enrolled in the College of Southern Maryland. She has a passion for expressing human experiences through the valuable art of writing, and hopes that she may connect with others through this. She loves yoga and the outdoors and reading all kinds of stories. She is a member of the Southern Maryland Writing Club and the Poetry Sisterhood.
The theme of growing up was particularly relevant to my life as I began writing this piece. I was moving into adulthood, reminiscent and with a heartful grieving of my identity as a child. I lamented in my adolescence as much as I studied it, wondered at it. This lustration of self, learning a new way to live. All these things imply a mastery of what was, a level up within a life already realized. The title of adult assumes an assured thing. Only, I was not. I found no resolution, no sureness, in a time when I was to make critical decisions about my future Grownup decisions. I took this opportunity to share my frustration and longing and wrote this piece as an anthem for the unknowing, as I was languishing in the confusion of growing up and not feeling like an adult should. I wrote this as an expressive narrative for myself and others that are living in aching uncertainty and living, still.
When I was a child, everything was magical.
I would spend hours wandering around the backyard of my house, looking for gnomes hidden among the weeds or portals tucked away under pockets of dirt. I was a nightmare to bring on vacation, as I always tried my hardest to get lost at every tourist destination. My parents would eventually find me tucked in an odd corner of a cathedral or museum, my hands probing along the walls convinced that I was this close to discovering a secret passageway to another dimension. I believed in Santa and unicorns. Everything was a sign of the supernatural: the ceiling lights that turned on when I stepped into a room; the sliding doors that opened when I approached; the dust motes in the air, dancing under beams of sunlight
In those halcyon days of my childhood, I knew little beyond the warmth of my mother’s embrace and the rosy lens with which I viewed the world around me. Life was this: mornings with my eyes glued to a cartoon or my nose in a fairytale; afternoons daydreaming about characters and constructing my own worlds with Lego bricks; evenings playing outside, wringing magic from anything and everything. The wind and sun whispered their secrets to me, and I listened with wonder-filled eyes. Then, I grew up.
Santa revealed himself to be nothing more than a ruse my parents played to get me to behave. The fairytales under my hands became textbooks on science, mathematics, and grammar. As early as elementary school, the societal push-andpull of fitting in and getting ahead began to sink in. I had a hazy vision of the future, but I was made to understand that success hinged upon doing all the right things: getting good grades, participating in Continental Math League, testing into the gifted and talented program.
We asked Jessica what she remembered the most about her childhood. Her answer?
Time became a commodity; cutting out Time Wasting Activities was of utmost importance. I didn’t have spare hours to sit around and daydream
As I progressed through school and grew out of my childhood cartoons, the film of fantasy and intrigue I’d been experiencing my surroundings through began to evaporate, demystified by science and common sense. The teddy bears that spoke when pressed were animated by electricity, not pixie dust. Sensors, not telekinesis, were responsible for the opening of automatic sliding doors. While I enjoyed learning about the mechanisms that actually govern the observable world, it meant that I slowly let go of my childlike fantasies, recognizing them as just that fantasies. I no longer focused on the immature, mystical explanations; I sought the scientific ones.
Growing up has given me a fuller and more accurate understanding of the world. It has given me lessons in sensibility and responsibility It has slowly illuminated my place in the spheres I occupy my classroom, my community, society and has revealed the less idyllic sides to being a player within those spheres. It has given me the ability of problem solving and critical thinking. Yet I sometimes wonder if in “becoming more mature” in trading speculations for explanations, dreams for practicalities; in conforming to expectations and accepting much of what I am told; in sharpening my focus for my future instead of chasing down every stray path I’ve lost a lot of my childlike wonder. And then I remember that just as much as growing up has given me answers, it has also brought more questions, more mystery and avenues to explore.
T H E E X P L O R E R
Y E T I S O M E T I M E S W O N D E R I F I N “ B E C O M I N G M O R E M A T U R E ” I N T R A D I N G S P E C U L A T I O N S F O R E X P L A N A T I O N S , D R E A M S F O R P R A C T I C A L I T I E S ; I N C O N F O R M I N G T O E X P E C T A T I O N S A N D A C C E P T I N G M U C H O F W H A T I A M T O L D ; I N S H A R P E N I N G M Y F O C U S F O R M Y F U T U R E I N S T E A D O F C H A S I N G D O W N E V E R Y S T R A Y P A T H I ’ V E L O S T A L O T O F M Y C H I L D L I K E W O N D E R
Realizing the world for what it is has not meant a loss of curiosity or imagination, as much as it means a redirection of it. In a way, learning more about how the world works serves to highlight how much there is that I still do not know. There is always more to understand, about science, or mathematics, or history, and the human field of knowledge is constantly developing reaching out its tentacles with each new discovery or invention.
And though growing up has provided me with perspective about my role in the world, rather than feeling restricted by this, I feel emboldened to shape and investigate it. What causes change in society, and what is its impact? What part do or can I play in causing change? What cultures and ideas make up my world, and why? After all, growing up has also instilled in me an appreciation for the diversity of perspective: a desire to get to know new people. Through communicating with those in and beyond the communities I’m a part of, I learn of people whose experiences both echo and contrast with my own, but which I can seek to understand and empathize with.
Everyone is made of stories, infinitely complex. Humanistic inquiry opens a world full of wonder and intrigue.
Finally, while I have, at times, conformed to societal and familial pressure, in a greater sense growing up has provided me with the tools to embrace my own individuality. By exploring new academic disciplines or new artistic forms or new places, I develop my own sense of how I interpret the things I experience and what I enjoy spending my time on. One such hobby, for instance, is creative writing, which allows me to formalize my wild, fantastical imaginations in prose.
Besides, I have not lost my belief in magic.
I find magic in early mornings by floor-toceiling windows, watching the highways shudder into motion. I find magic in late autumn evenings, when molten sunlight wraps around my ankles and the wind trails behind me like a comet’s tail. I find scintillas of magic tucked into the mundane: bookshelves humming with life; twilight twining along silver fingertips; music that evokes vivid images behind closed eyelids.
I find magic in every thread of connection every word or thought or feeling that unites us in shared human emotion.
I find magic in the idea that we are in a continual process of growth, which means there will always be new horizons to explore and new aspects of myself to discover.
And, when no one is particularly looking, I still like to raise my arm and pretend that I’m the one willing the sliding doors to open.
My name is Jessica Wang, and I am a senior at Thomas Jefferson High School for Science/Technology. When I saw the theme “growing up”, what came to me first was this idea of nostalgia and relinquishing childhood. I decided to explore this thread further. I thought about writing my article with a more somber tone, in keeping with my initial idea, but upon further reflection, I realized that for me the theme of growth is ultimately one of hope. Despite all the past times and memories we cannot uncover, there is still so much waiting for us in the present and ahead of us in the future. While it contemplates the losses, my essay is more a response to the question, “What are the joys and gains of growing up?”
In addition to writing personal narratives and essays, I enjoy writing flash fiction and poetry. When I’m not engrossed in a book, producing odd sounds with my piano, or animatedly explaining a piece of code to my teddy bear, one can find me with a pencil and an empty page, dreaming of contrived plots and unlikely ideas.
Walking down the pavement, Benjamin knows what to buy kids’ cereal, which William has eagerly wanted for weeks, especially each time TV commercial displays the brightly-colored cartoon rabbits gulping and then giggling contentedly.
Benjamin has just left his work. With his intelligence, he could be sitting in a clean, bright office sipping a latté. But instead, he is merely a hospital buffet cashier who gets paid with only wrinkled cash and coins. He didn’t choose to live such a dreary life, but all his time and energy has been devoted to William, who needs much care.
As Benjamin walks inside the store, packages of kids’ cereal with dazzling cartoon pictures are arranged trimly. He picks up the one with Edward the Elephants, William’s favorite TV show. With a glance to the ‘On Sale’ shelf, he notices that there is a box of toy bricks. Benjamin hesitates, weighing whether to save the money for his haircut or not, but he eventually buys the bricks; the doctor has said that puzzle games are beneficial for William’s brain development and manual ability.
Benjamin hears William’s favorite toy train chuffing as he steps inside the house.
He walks into the kitchen and heats up two bowls of milk, then pours the cereal in and mixes it up. Pieces of carefree cereal dance inside the swirl, freely and without a care. After Benjamin sets the table ready, he calls out for William: “Dinner’s ready, Dad.”
I am currently a rising 12th grade student at Shenzhen Middle School, China. I see myself as an explorer interested in both the humanities and science. Outside of school activities, I write flash fiction stories, and created a magazine where I serve as editor. I just completed a paper about the impacts of winning a war on a nation and its people. I used materials focusing on the USSR and the UK during World War II for the paper. Outside of writing, I often volunteer at museums. I am very proud that I helped manage the first election of members of the Home Owner Association of my neighborhood. It is set up as a role model in the district. These activities have given me a strong sense of the power of history, literature, and politics in my daily life. I also have a passion for science. I am the vice president of the Neuroscience Club at my school. There, I teach about the pathways in the human brain for younger students. More recently, I participated in an environmental marathon competition and my team won a gold medal in China. I also formed a team to assess, analyze, improve, and monitor the water quality in the bay area in Shenzhen. I am always seeking new ways to learn about my community and how I can help it grow.
Zhuorong wrote about someone growing up in a flash fiction!
Phoebe Wang is a rising 10th grader at Dominion High School. This summer, she was a part of the BranchOut! x Pohick STEAM Program and The Explorer.
At her first Pohick session, the students made popsicle stick bridges and created objects out of paper, like origami and paper airplanes. The kids were loud and energetic and Phoebe learned to connect with them by asking about their interests, hobbies, and favorite animals. Throughout her time mentoring, Phoebe learned how to interact with kids and maintain their engagement.
One of Phoebe’s most memorable experiences as part of the Pohick program was when she was able to help a student come out of her shell. During a popsicle bridge building activity, Phoebe noticed one student sitting off to the side. With questions and compliments, Phoebe was able to encourage the student to add her own creation to the other kids’ bridge.
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group’s bridge. As the day went on, the student became more and more engaged and expressive in the origami activities Phoebe was extremely proud to see that the student was making her own origami, showing them off to the people around her, and was super excited!
Overall, the experience helped Phoebe develop stronger communication skills and get a unique opportunity to connect with younger students. She looks forward to seeing more students joining the Pohick
We asked Brayden about what he thought was important for anyone growing up.
In 1991, Dr. Alfred A. Tomatis was the first to talk about the Mozart Effect. In his book Pourquoi Mozart?, he believed listening to Mozart would help the ear and brain develop, which would then prevent or cure disorders like ADD, autism, and dyslexia. This belief didn’t go far, but in 1993, Frances Rauscher, Gordon Shaw, and Catherine Ky tested the effects of listening to Mozart on spatial task performance. In this test, students would spend 10 minutes in each of these conditions: sitting in silence, listening to “verbal relaxation instructions”, and listening to Mozart’s “Sonata for Two Pianos in D”. After one of the conditions, they were then tasked with a spatial reasoning IQ test.
The results showed that students scored a higher IQ after listening to Mozart over the other two conditions. These effects were temporary and didn’t last longer than 15 minutes. However, these results were spread throughout the media, often with important details being left out. In 1994, Alex Ross, a New York Times music columnist, stated: “researchers...have determined that listening to Mozart actually makes you smarter.”, which caused misconceptions of the study.
Author Don Campell published two books: The Mozart Effect: Tapping the Power of Music to Heal the Body, Strengthen the Mind, and Unlock the Creative Spirit and The Mozart Effect For Children. Both of them talk about listening to music (namely Mozart) increases intelligence, creativity, and other beneficial mental effects. These books, along with many published articles, help spread the “fact” that listening to Mozart’s music directly increases intelligence.
Many researchers performed more tests and meta-analyses. Now, scientists conclude that listening to Mozart could improve one’s mood, and thus allowing one to study or work better. Rauscher, one of the scientists from the first test, responded to the connection of listening to Mozart and an increase in intelligence: “Our results...have generated much interest but several misconceptions... listening to Mozart enhances intelligence. We made no such claim.”
Although music has no direct influence on intelligence, listening to music, including Mozart, could help you study. When you read a book, your brain uses subvocalization to help you comprehend words. Subvocalization is the voice in your mind you make while reading. The brain uses the same parts to subvocalize and also comprehend spoken words. This is why you might find it hard to read and listen to someone talk.
Your brain gets overloaded when processing words and conversations. But if your subvocalization is “louder”, then it can focus on just that. This is also why coffee shops are a common place to study and work. There are so many noises in the background, your brain can’t choose one to focus on, allowing your subvocalization to be louder.
Listening to music while studying has the same effect. It provides a background that allows your subvocalization to stand out. The exception to this is lyrical songs. Since those contain words, the part of your brain that performs subvocalization gets overcrowded. Since Mozart’s sonatas, movie soundtracks, or instrumentals all lack lyrics, they would be better than the latest pop songs for studying.
Brayden Wang is a 12th grader at Oakton High School in Vienna, Virginia. He appreciates math, computer science, and other natural sciences, but he also has a passion for psychology and philosophy. In his free time, he enjoys writing and journalism, playing and listening to music, cooking, and game developing.
Music has had its impact on my life ever since I first excitedly tapped along to my brother’s piano playing. It’s been with me as I grew from most stages of my life, and I use it to connect to others. Whether its at nursing homes, halftime marching band shows, or for my friends, I believe musical is a universal language that brings people, even strangers, together. Most of the time, I get my writing inspiration from observing real-life cases, or personal motivation to answer questions that could enlighten myself or my circle. I found music to assist my studying, but I also find times it helps me to relax, or maybe get a little excited. I got varying answers to when and how much my friends listen to music. This ambiguity made me wonder if there was really any value. So, I decided to explore if music makes you smarter, or can help one study.
In this work, we explored stories about us as children growing up and entering the adult world. Some of us shared what people or memories they hold onto even after growing up, while some of us shared the lessons that they've learned or continue to learn as they are growing up. One even shared with us how he recalls his experience growing up shaped his work and life's work now! Regardless of what we shared or chose to write about, we shared things that were important to us.
Building upon this foundation, the theme for Issue 2 is another opportunity to share any stories that you may have had about growing up after reading this issue, and where we will share additional submissions we received for this theme. Some previews from our awesome staff writers are below! The theme for 2 is: Coming of Age.
We keep prompts as vague as possible to encourage you to write about things that are personally important to you. However, we have suggested prompts in case you would like something you can work with. They are not required to be used and are merely a guidance.
Do you have any traditions in your family or culture related to the coming of age?
Did you have childhood dreams realized when you came of age? What stayed?
How did technology and media impact your life growing up? What relationships with people and family did you cherish? How did where you grew up shape your identity and your traditions?
Please see page 22 for submission deadlines and requirements.
issue3:thefuture
Both themes 1 and 2, Growing Up and Coming of Age is related to things that we've experienced in the present or in the past. It's time to look to what lies ahead of all of us, which is why the theme for Issue 3 is Looking to the Future.
We keep prompts as vague as possible to encourage you to write about things that are personally important to you. However, we have suggested prompts in case you would like something you can work with. They are not required to be used and are merely a guidance.
What will our world in the future look like?
What is the greatest thing not yet invented?
Where will the place you live be in ten years? In twenty? In a century?
Where you will be in the future?
How you will shape the world? How your past has shaped your future?
If you have any questions throughout the submission or writing process, please do not hesitate to contact us at theexplorer@velbranchout.org.
As we value sharing your perspectives, please email theexplorer@velbranchout.org with a proposed question that your work will answer as soon as you have an idea. Specifically, please write how you interpret the theme (max 100 words), a one sentence prompt for your work, and why you chose that prompt/interpretation (max 100 words). We anticipate approving any idea with the exception of potentially violent topics. Your writing should be 1000 - 1500 words.
For Issue 2, Coming of Age, the deadline for the final submission of a completed work is before midnight EST on December 10th, 2022.
For Issue 3, Looking to the Future, the deadline for the final submission of a completed work is before midnight EST on February 10th, 2022. Email all final submissions to theexplorer@velbranchout.org
Exceptions may be granted to both deadlines on a case-by-case basis. Please email a week in advance if this is necessary.
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hard work: David Sheng someone's friend: Natalie Filbey my hair: Lily Bennear the magic: Jessica Wang caretaker: Zhuorong Tang classical music: Brayden Wang
Editor-in-chief: Brian Zhou, 11th grader at Thomas Jefferson HS, United States
Journalism Lead: Kai Bian, 11th grader at McLean HS, United States
US Journalism Lead: David Sheng, 10th grader at McLean HS, United States
CA Journalism Lead: Sophia Wang, freshman at UToronto, Canada
CN Journalism Lead: Andrea Ma, China
Managing Editor: Phoebe Wang, 10th grader at Dominion HS, United States
Director of Outreach: Emma Song, 12th grader at Wootton HS, United States
Assistant Director: Rachel Ni, 11th grader at Centennial HS, United States
Assistant Director: Sophie Zhang, 10th grader at McLean HS, United States
Editor-in-chief: Brian Zhou, 11th grader at Thomas Jefferson HSST, United States
Director of Outreach: Emma Song, 12th grader at Wootton HS, United States
Assistant Director: Rachel Ni, 11th grader at Centennial HS, United States
Assistant Director: Sophie Zhang, 10th grader at McLean HS, United States
Coordinator: Kelly Ji, 9th grader at Centennial HS, United States
Coordinator: Lirui Fu, 10th grader at Winston Churchill HS, United States
Director of Journalism: Kai Bian, 11th grader at McLean HS, United States
US Journalism Lead: David Sheng, 10th grader at McLean HS, United States
CA Journalism Lead: Sophia Wang, freshman at UToronto, Canada
CN Journalism Lead: Andrea Ma, China
US Writer: Brayden Wang, 12th grader at Oakton HS, United States
US Writer: Jessica Wang, 12th grader at Thomas Jefferson HSST, United States
US Writer: Gabby Wang, 11th grader at McLean HS, United States
US Writer: Amber Gong, 10th grader at Severna Park High School, United States
US Writer: Lisa Sun, 10th grader at Oakton HS, United States
CN Writer: Zhuorong Li, 12th grader at Shenzhen MS, China
CN Writer: Julia Mindy, China
Managing Editor: Phoebe Wang, 10th grader at Dominion HS, United States
Editor: David Lu, 10th grader at McLean HS, United States
Editor: Kevin Xue, 10th grader at Chantilly HS, United States
Editor: Shuya Li, 9th grader at Marriotts Ridge HS, United States
BranchOut! is a youth community outreach program based in the Washington DC metropolitan area founded in 2015 that sponsors the Explorer. It was founded to answer the call to action by former Dean Jim Ryan of the Harvard Graduate School of Education and Dr. Chad Womack of the United Negro College Fund in late 2015. Our founder, HGSE graduate Dr. Wu, answered the call to action. In a few short months, BranchOut! was created to bridge achievement and cultural gaps in the current system.
While the program began in one state with 20 students, it has since branched out to more than 150 mentors annually with volunteers from all around the United States and the world. Over the years, BranchOut! expanded to provide targeted educational services at credit recovery programs in multiple counties and states, create software to meet academic needs, and build societal awareness of modern issues through research and journalism.
Currently, BranchOut! mentors continue to volunteer at credit recovery programs, promote STEM outreach to a K-8 audience, host career/college fairs, and shares the stories of teens from around the world. BranchOut! continues to develop software, with projects aiming to connect the AAPI community against the rise of anti-Asian hate and uplifting mental health.
At BranchOut!, learning is two-sided; mentors gain experience in branching out and taking the initiative to lead. Current and former mentors credit BranchOut! as the first place where they learned to take the initiative.
BranchOut!'s programs have been recognized by multiple congress members and have won the Congressional App Challenge for its work in promoting education accessibility through technology.
velbranchout.org apply for 22-23: velbranchout.org/application