The Panther 2021-2022 Issue 7: Class of 2022 Onto New Horizons

PANTHER

the

V 64|N7

Miami Palmetto Senior High School

7460 SW 118 Street, Miami, FL 33156

Tuesday 24 May 2022

CLASS OF ‘22 onto new horizons

02| CONTENTS

6 PRINT ISSUES 509 ONLINE STORIES

27 STAFFERS 13 SENIORS

THIS YEAR 180 DAYS 43 WEEKS

ROOM 1124

INSTAGRAM @thepantherpaper TWITTER @thepantherpaper

FOLLOW US WEBSITE www.thepalmettopanther.com

GUEST WRITERS |03

Linda Dwyer

CAP ADVISOR

Oh, my goodness... I will never forget your class. I recall welcoming you as you walked into our new building, but unfortunately, that lasted only two and half months. The world shut down, you went home and stayed there for a long time. You were locked up in a pandemic and you Zoomed, you created, you baked, you wrote... you did you. Class of 2022, you did not sit back and feel sorry for yourselves. You returned to school with masks on and then it was wonderful; your class jumped back into the spirit of Palmetto like never before! You danced, created, sang, played and celebrated being back together on campus. You appreciated being in school! That was a crazy twist! We’ll never know who you would’ve been without the pandemic, but with it, we know that you are enthusiastic, passionate, malleable and determined. In addition, each senior member of The Panther has shown that you are resilient. The articles you have produced were thorough and wise beyond your years. Every article I read made me proud.

You are strong and brave. I have witnessed each of you reach high and as life would have it, sometimes you got hurt. It was hard to watch you in pain, but I am reminded of the wise words sung by Shakira. She said, “Birds don’t just fly, they fall down and get up.”

And you do too. Class of 2022, you fell down and you got up.

But here you are. Just days away from flying. We will tear up as you leave, but it’s okay. Emotions are good. Feel the joy, the sadness, the nerves. Take it all in. As you walk across the stage to graduate, breathe in the moment. This has not been an easy journey, but you accomplished your goal. I will be overwhelmed as I watch you fly away, but I am at peace because I know that “there are far, far better things ahead than anything we leave behind,”— CS Lewis.

ACTIVITIES DIRECTOR

Elizabeth Valero

Seniors, I have always spent the moments in between the madness of graduation planning and prep in joyful excitement of the journey you all are about to embark on. I remember it. I also remember being antsy and nostalgic about the time I spent in high school and before. It makes sense because I didn’t really know what layed ahead. I was upset about missing my friends because I couldn’t picture the faces of the friends I had yet to meet! I was upset that I wouldn’t be able to roam the halls of my school anymore because I didn’t know about the warmth and comfort I would find on my college campus, in those future dorms and apartments. I mourned the memories I had made as a high school student because I didn’t realize how many memories I had yet to make. The bagpipes that played at my college graduation, the moment my husband got down on one knee to propose in front of most of my friends (friends, by the way, that were made in high school, college, and after… a perfect mix), the realization that a pregnancy test I took was finally telling me that I was going to be a mom, and then the one five years later that told me that “SURPRISE” I was going to be a mom again, were all memories that I didn’t think about as I looked through my high school yearbook the day after graduation. A set of dream jobs, a marriage, homes, sons, losses, wins, good and bad have all made my life an experience that I treasure. And to think, all those things weren’t even on my radar. So Class of 2022, what am I saying to you? Go ahead and be sad that your time here is nearing an end… revel in these beautiful high school memories but take it from me… be excited for the life you’re about to embark upon. Look down the path you’ve been on, but take a moment to look up to the amazing possibilities of the futures that lay before you. Congratulations on all you have accomplished… Now go and keep doing more! I’m proud of you!

04| FEATURE

dear sen iors,

Over the course of the past year, you have shown us what it truly means to be passionate journalists, how to tell stories with integrity and make an impact on our school and community. You have checked every box for what a role model should embody and have made us beyond proud to send you off with this senior issue.

When we first entered newspaper class in 2020, you were the most welcoming classmates and made room 1124 truly feel like home. Before the school year started, we had heard stories detailing how newspaper is unlike any other class, but you showed us what that truly meant. One thing that undoubtedly made our transition to newspaper even smoother was having all of your work as our example. Every article, design and photograph exemplified The Panther’s excellence and demonstrated what we needed to represent as staffers. We could always count on asking any of you for help with an interview or AP style, as you always encouraged us to ask questions and welcomed them with open arms. You helped us grow our confidence — whether personal or journalistic. You have helped us to find our voice within ourselves, and have empowered us to translate it into our writing.

Upon the reflection that prompted us to write this piece, we realized that all 13 seniors in newspaper class have broken barriers both inside and outside the classroom. From film festivals to environmental conferences, bake sales, newsletters, student clubs, academics, garage sales, community service, sports teams, book drives, advocacy projects and more, you all have proven what it truly means to be a Panther. You have used your voices to shed light on topics that have impacted our community and beyond: we have no doubt your class will change the world. It has always been said that Miami Palmetto Senior High produces some of the most successful individuals who make extreme contributions to society, and we cannot wait to see your names among these headlines.

Bella, thank you for showing us how far hard work and determination can take you. Allie, thank you for always coming up with creative solutions to difficult problems. Ana, thank you for showing us the importance of community. Kate, thank you for showing us loyalty and being a pillar of support. Katriona, thank you for showing us how sometimes the smallest voices can make the biggest impact. Julia, thank you for showing us balance and how to work hard while playing just as hard. Gianna, thank you for teaching us about activism and strength. Angelina, thank you for showing us compassion, kindness and how to dance and sing amid the storm. Cayetana, thank you for showing us the importance of sharing and listening to opinions.

Tomas, thank you for demonstrating the importance of collaboration and hard work. Mikayla, thank you for showing us how to make a difference and for sharing so many heartwarming stories through your film. Paul, thank you for showing us the importance of identity and truth. Denise, thank you for showing us gratitude and understanding.

Although COVID-19 cut many of our traditions short, your class was the last to experience a “true” newspaper year. We may never understand what it was like to sit in the “notorious 911B,” or the soothing whale sounds that juxtapose the stress of sending to print and more, but we promise to keep The Panther alive and continue to prove that journalism matters. We promise to follow in your legacy and will strive to make you proud. Although we have big goals for next year, with even bigger shoes to fill, do not worry. You have taught us everything we will need to know and are determined to pass on your legacy. We will also continue to teach staff about Taylor Swift, as it is essential that we indoctrinate staffers to become Swifties too.

To the 13 newspaper graduates, we could not have asked for a better year with all of you. Although we will miss you all dearly, we know you are going to bring so much good to the world and make immeasurable impacts on society. Thank you for teaching us about perseverance, dedication and commitment; we truly appreciate each one of your contributions to our publication. From every design for print and online, every photograph, every interview, every copy rotation and finally, for every story, we recognize and are forever grateful for the hard work you have poured into The Panther.

Keep making us proud.

xoxo, Samantha Elkins Amy-Grace Shaprico Print Co-Editor-in-Chief

Online Co-Editor-in-Chief

CLASS OF 2022 onto new horizons Miami Palmetto Senior High School seniors on The Panther have written about a variety of news and happenings to the community school all year long. While normally upholding typical journalistic standards, this issue appears a little differently as for their final issue, our seniors share some of their own stories. The contributions these seniors have made to the newspaper are undeniable, yet we are proud to see them off onto new horizons.

06| FEATURE

Bella Martin “A year from now we’ll all be gone / All our friends will move away / And they’re goin’ to better places / But our friends will be gone away” These final months of high school have given me time to reflect on the impact that so many people at Miami Palmetto Senior High have had on me. From faculty to friends, each group has influenced me in a specific way. The people I have met at Palmetto provided comfort and emotion, set the mood and tone for my years and established unity in my life, showing me how my time at Palmetto and my love for music are interconnected.

Specifically, I found a connection to the song “Rivers and Roads” by The Head and the Heart.

The song explains the ache of separation and the determination to do whatever it takes to see one’s friends and family again after moving away, even crossing countless rivers and roads.

720. That’s the number of academic days in high school. As a Palmetto student, I have experienced the unwavering support, guidance and mentorship from countless teachers who have fed my passion for learning and knowledge in ways I never anticipated. Three, in particular, have contributed to the person I am today: Elena Ruiz, Silvio Vargas and Kenneth Spiegelman.

I had the opportunity to have Mrs. Ruiz two years in a row. Sophomore year, I immediately connected with her through our love for travel and reading. Through her teaching, assignments and constructive criticism, I watched the way my writing transformed throughout the year. Her support and instruction inspired me to apply for the newspaper, which undoubtedly contributed to my position as Editor-in-Chief. Mrs. Ruiz also introduced me to some of my favorite books: “Say Nothing,” an investigative biography on The Troubles in Northern Ireland and “The Great Gatsby,” which became one of my favorites due to her instruction.

Mr. Vargas, Palmetto’s famed APUSH teacher, became one of the first teachers to show me that to get the results you want, you need to be willing to put in the work. Throughout high school, this is a lesson that I have applied to many areas of my life. I vividly remember one day in class when we were learning about the Sectional Crisis in the 1850s; I had never felt so engaged and intrigued by a course in my life. I genuinely enjoyed completing

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF the countless assignments and in his class, realized my extreme passion for history. I discovered that I wanted to devote my undergraduate studies to history no matter where I went. I would not have been able to realize this passion without Mr. Vargas’ instruction and dedication to such a multifaceted subject area.

Although APUSH was one of my favorite classes at Palmetto, Mr. Spiegelman’s unique teaching style contributed to AP Comparative Government becoming my favorite. I learned tremendously during the relaxed yet intriguing lectures, informational videos and important moments of independent study. As a senior in AP U.S. Government, I also felt that Mr. Spiegelman truly understood the weight of college applications and decisions. During class, he reminded us about deadlines and time management. He made it his mission to know everyone’s dream school, and supported their dream of going there. When I told him that I was planning on applying to Dartmouth, he was the first teacher to truly encourage and support me. He also ensured that he knew how we contributed to the Palmetto community. For me, this included asking about The Panther and cracking jokes at my expertise with freedom of press. He valued me as both a student and a person, which is something that I’m forever grateful for.

For four years, I have seen the faces of my best friends at school for eight hours a day, five days a week. Freshman year, Palmetto served as the foundation for so many of my friendships. Now, I am grateful to have a group of friends that have stood by me for all four years. They have been my people and have given me a place to feel safe and be myself, where I could learn the true meaning of friendship.

Next year, I will be away from home for the first time in my life. Entering school, I will not see the familiar faces of the teachers that have molded me into the student that I am today. At school and on weekends, I will not see the faces of my friends that have made me into the friend and person that I am today. We may be going our separate ways, but in the end, we will only be rivers and roads apart.

FEATURE |07

PRINT EDITOR-IN-CHIEF I love my Snapchat flashbacks. When I first created my account in middle school, I would take pictures and videos of almost everything. This is something I have continued to do for the past four years, and each time I click on the “Flashback from…” I get to relive each memory.

“Flashback from Oct. 12, four years ago, today”: blue-tinted pictures at the Southridge Park field, freshman year homecoming football game. I went to the game decked out in Miami Palmetto Senior High colors with some new and old friends, unaware of how much this night would impact the remainder of my four years. There was something about the game that truly welcomed me into the Palmetto community: the spirit, the people and the overall atmosphere.

From then on, I felt I had a place within the ever-growing Palmetto family and established that the next four years of my life would be filled with the people and experiences that provided me with the same amount of joy.

“Flashback from Feb. 3, three years ago, today”: photos with my best friends from the varsity girls’ lacrosse team for the annual crowning day that kicks off our season. During my first year on the team, I was the lost puppy. I stuck beside the other freshman, only branching out slightly; I did my best to pick up the skills necessary to become a better player and eventually became a very wellrounded benchwarmer. However, on this winter Monday, my mindset regarding the team changed and left a lasting impact. Now, I look up to the girls that I play with and create lasting bonds on and off the field. Palmetto Girls Lacrosse (PGL) taught me what it was like to be part of a genuine team that cares about one another, something that I will forever cherish. When I started sophomore year, I felt as though I was living the typical high school dream that is portrayed in the

Allie Gould

movies; however, that was put to a halt.

An unanticipated pandemic took over the world, pausing the lively flashbacks for over a year.

“Flashback from Aug. 24, two years ago, today”: the first day of junior year — sort of. This entire school year felt like a constant back and forth between in-person learning and Zoom. Something about the Palmetto atmosphere had changed (I was one of the few people physically in my classes), along with the way that I perceived high school, specifically the time I spent with my peers. Junior year was the first time I was able to take a break, one not necessarily wanted but definitely needed. It forced me to stop taking the small moments with friends for granted.

“Flashback from June 9, one year ago, today”: smiles on the faces of rising seniors dressed in red to kick off the start of our last year of high school. Personally, this day marked the official beginning of the end, but not in a sad way; more so in a way that made me appreciate what was to come. I had so many things to look forward to — homecoming, powder puff and prom (amongst others, of course) — but above everything else, I knew that it would all lead to the finale: graduation.

Soon, I am going to be looking at “Flashback from June 3, one year ago, today” flooded with photos of smiles and tears from my high school graduation.

While the past four years have been filled with some extremely heartwarming and joyous times, there have been bumps in the road that in the end made me who I am today. And although I might not have an accurate grasp on how fast time goes by – I am still baffled by the fact that I am going to college in the fall – I can always rely on the flashbacks to remind me of how much things have changed and the wonderful memories I have made.

08| FEATURE

Ana Martinez

​​ a few years, my best friend was a pair of shoes.

For It is true. Given to me on my birthday, my sneakers were the color of cream and had three trendy, shiny black stripes that ran down the side. Best of all, the magic slippers had a one-inch platform, giving me a lift so that I could appear taller. At 13, I was the shortest student in the entire school. My height made me too embarrassed to go to Whole Foods with my five-foot-one dad or embrace my Spanish heritage. After two years, as much as I did not want to face reality, I knew I had to part ways with my friend, now tawny and pungent, exposing my height to the terrifying world of high school.

The loss of my shoes — a solidified part of my identity at the time — threw me off.

As a freshman in high school, I had a vision for the next four years: keep my small group of friends, take the most rigorous courses offered and continue my passion for science and environmental policy. Just like I kept wearing the same shoes, I wanted to continue this linear path to success.

In other words, I was afraid of change. I was afraid to lose my friends. I was afraid of judgment, especially because of my stature.

I was afraid of losing my passions; I was afraid to lose myself.

Nevertheless, change happened. Walking into high school in a measly pair of plain sneakers, I became overwhelmed by the thousands of students that towered over me, advanced coursework ten times harder than anything I ever did in middle school and the slow-yet-painful distancing of my small group of friends. For a period of time, I felt lost about my place in life.

Still, I learned that change can also lead to better things.

It was not until I joined Miami Palmetto Senior High’s high school student-led news publication, The Panther Paper, that I first developed confidence. Learning about the subject daily in Journalism 1, I was introduced to some legendary news reporters and writers: Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, warriors of the Watergate scandal and Margaret Bourke White, a pioneering

ONLINE EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

World-War II photojournalist.

Inspired by how these trailblazers led change with their voices, I applied what I learned, reshaping ordinary words into a glittering galaxy of thought, publishing articles in other local newspapers, drawing thousands of views and eventually becoming The Panther’s Online Editor-in-Chief.

As the years passed and pairs of shoes swapped, I began to experiment with my culture. Considering how journalism helped me find my voice, I decided to engage my bilingual, bicultural perspective. I began to take greater risks to build confidence and practiced Spanish as much as I could; paging through Spanish dictionaries, perfecting making tortillas, a typical Spanish dish with my dad and writing news articles in Spanish.

Most notably, I experimented with my self-identity. I tried out new clothing styles — a needed switch from the striped shirts I wore daily. I branched out and made new friends, some of whom have become the most important people in my life.

Throughout this process, I learned that change is not linear. I became distant from old friends, lost myself in some of my classes, failed tests and felt haunted by self-consciousness. Reflecting on my time in high school, however, I became thankful for losing my beloved pair of shoes because it led me into the very spiral of self-identification. Through Palmetto, I also discovered that I loved to write. That I loved politics and policy. That I loved to make a difference. That I did, indeed, have a voice, even without my shoes.

To all the students in high school, I encourage you to embrace the changes that come along. Take risks, try new classes, be kind to your classmates and find your passions. At the same time, deal with drawbacks: do not stress about a failed exam, a struggling course, a lost friend. High school serves as a time for you to discover who you are, and even if you do not know by the end, you learn a little bit about yourself on this journey.

You’ll get through it just like I did, no matter what pair of shoes you are wearing.

FEATURE |09

MANAGING EDITOR Throughout my high school career, I’ve made it a point to take advantage of every educational opportunity presented to me. I took 14 AP classes, won officer positions in numerous school clubs and outside organizations, started my own community service project surrounding my love for reading, became a Silver Knight nominee… The list goes on.

I don’t list these accomplishments lightly or with the intention to brag, but to point out the specific socioeconomic circumstances that allowed me to do so. These resume-building opportunities weren’t entirely handed to me – I had to work for them – but I had a hand to hold along the way nonetheless.

No one likes to believe that they have a leg up in life, but I’ll get right to the elephant in the room and check my privilege: I’m the stereotypical white AP kid who calls Pinecrest home. I’ve been fortunate enough to have the time to dedicate to classes and activities because I live in such a supportive environment.

Success doesn’t solely stem from hard work, it stems from one’s opportunity to work hard.

To put this concept into perspective, let’s first take a look at the demographics of Palmetto provided by U.S. World and News Report. ​​The total minority enrollment is 75%, and 45% of students are economically disadvantaged. With such a large minority enrollment at Palmetto, why are honor societies and officer positions heavily dominated by the same pool of white, affluent students at the top of their class? Why are the students leading school organizations not reflective of the diverse student body they serve?

The answers lie in the foundations of educational elitism that plague high schools across the nation. This educational gap became even more apparent to me during COVID-19 when I published an investigative piece on the whereabouts of 465 chronically absent Palmetto students last school year. Working with Palmetto’s TRUST counselor, I discovered that the reason for these absences stemmed from students’ lack of access to the internet and devices, language barriers or unemployment forcing students to work alongside their parents.

The characteristics of these chronically absent students serve as an intensified characterization of students who aren’t as active in Palmetto both academically and extracurricularly-wise. They have fallen victim to meritocratic, plutocratic and cultural elitism.

In a meritocracy, the ones who hold power are

Kate Stuzin

selected based on their ability, though the definition of ability is flawed in itself. Meritocratic elitism abandons students who cannot succeed in traditional school. Traditional school assessments measure success in a way that only a certain type of student can achieve; they leave out those who are neurodivergent or socially disadvantaged.

Awarding students based on merit and attempting to be need-blind actually enlarges the divide it seeks to close. Meritocratic elitism works hand and hand with plutocratic elitism — the wealthy have access to more opportunities. Students can appear to have more abilities than others solely based on extraneous resources that provide them with an extra push in the right direction. For example, students with access to one-on-one tutoring, private college counseling and parents with professional connections have a much higher likelihood of achieving better grades and building more extensive resumes than students who do not have access to these resources. Needbased scholarships and financial aid help somewhat, but even after applying for scholarships the average tuition remains too high.

Additionally, cultural elitism has made its way into school curriculum, specifically in the subject of history. When the curriculum is biased towards one cultural group, it isolates minorities and creates an inferiority complex amongst students and teachers alike. Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis has struck down attempts to combat this bias by signing a bill banning the teaching of critical race theory, the cross-disciplinary intellectual movement that works to facilitate the understanding of race as a social construct and how governmental hierarchies reinforce the racial divide. This is the opposite of progress and will cause students to feel even less integrated than ever before and continue the cycle of solely teaching the white-washed parts of history . As I look back on my senior year, I reflect on the ugliness I’ve seen in people as they weathered the college admissions process – and by people I mean every student at the top of our class. Disassembling the hierarchy created by academic elitism starts with those at the top recognizing their privilege and finally doing something about it. We need to stop comparing ourselves, stop assuming everyone even goes to college in the first place and stop contributing to the elitist culture that dominates the top 10% of our class.

Education must be reformed and academic elitism must be addressed for any progress to ensue.

10| FEATURE

Katriona Page

In August 2018, I moved from Indianapolis to Miami. That same month, I started high school at Miami Palmetto Senior High, a stark contrast to the 60 person per grade K-8 I had previously attended. Walking into the first day of school, I knew a total of one person – someone who would go on to greatly influence my high school career, but one person nonetheless.

I would like to say I adjusted quickly, but freshman year was challenging. I made two very close friends that year, but I had not fully integrated yet. In many respects, I wish I had been more extroverted, especially given that a global pandemic would interrupt the end of my sophomore year and the entirety of my junior year. In January, during subject selection week, Nicole Markus – the one person I knew when I first started at Palmetto – recommended I join Newspaper. She was a year older than me and deeply invested in The Panther. I took her advice and submitted my application. It made sense: I had always loved writing and wanted to become more comfortable speaking to new people.

Sophomore year was considerably better. I broadened my social circle and signed up for various clubs and extracurriculars.

This was also my first year on staff at The Panther. I served as a copy editor, tasked with proofreading and revising all the stories the paper published.

Newspaper taught me several valuable lessons, including how to handle rejection. I learned this twice, once when I applied for Senior Copy Editor after sophomore year, and again when I

SENIOR COPY EDITOR

applied for Print Editor-in-Chief after junior year. It is also where I met some of my closest friends — the people who I know will be in my life long after sixth period.

Throughout COVID and the ensuing quarantine, Newspaper provided me with a community as so many others dissolved. Whereas other classes and after-school activities were reduced to Zoom meetings once a week if that, The Panther chose to continue putting together print issues, which required collaboration and coordination.

Through Newspaper, I also accomplished what I initially set out to do when I first joined: I became a better writer and became more comfortable talking to strangers. Conducting interviews these past three years has expanded my worldview, introducing me to people and perspectives that I would not have otherwise encountered.

I am incredibly grateful to The Panther (and Nicole) for all the opportunities it has offered me. Of all my classes, Newspaper will be the one I remember most, and I hope that in the future, I will once again have the opportunity to be part of one.

This past year, a few of my closest friends joined The Panther, hence why it feels only fitting that on June 2, 2022, my final class on the final day of my final year of high school will be Newspaper. I will be surrounded by people I love, people I have known since the very beginning – a full-circle end to a challenging, unusual and wonderful high school experience.

FEATURE |11

SENIOR DESIGN EDITOR Biking to Matheson Hammock Park every Sunday became a tradition for my dad and I. I sat in the back of a trolley connected to my dad’s bike, laying down and marveling at the green scenery consuming the sky, the roof unzipped. The sepia-stained world lay beneath the branches of beauty intertwining in a neverending puzzle of nature. The smell of salt, sand and silt filled my lungs, a lullaby sung by the mangroves. My eyes felt the embrace of the musical rustling from above and the massage of the pebbles below. The root system beside me safely housed a universe of life, with glistening, sparkling water which brimmed with its promise of sweet security. At the corner of my ear lay joyous laughter a moment away.

Serenity became bliss with the simple sound of a bike wheel.

When I received my sophomore subject selection form, my eyes trailed through the potential electives I could take, eventually settling on Advanced Placement Environmental Science. Remembering my beloved days biking in Matheson Hammock Park, I checked the box to enroll in the course. Six months later, sitting eagerly in the front of the class, I was unaware of how Ms. Shlactman’s course would ignite a lifelong passion within me. Miami is “groundzero” for the climate crisis; feeling the heat, the extreme weather, the health impacts and bruting the cost of this crisis unparalleled in other areas around the world. Rooted in personal stories of impact, climate change is not simply a scientific or environmental concern — it is a social justice issue.

Lessons from my school textbook became issues I was missing class to address, attending commission meetings and urging my elected officials to act on. I gained a voice through environmental science: my voice lies behind securing $338k funding for the City of Miami Department of Resilience, my voice lies behind the declaration of three climate emergencies, my voice lies behind the fourth-largest school district in the nation

Gianna Hutton instituting Meatless Mondays. At 15-years-old, I developed a fire in my belly that made it my duty to act on this issue. Sitting in classes for eight hours a day felt like a misuse of time I could be using to fuel this fire. I could be organizing, I could be at a meeting with an elected official demanding change, I could be educating others about this issue. I knew what I wanted to do with my life, yet felt constrained by the halls of high school.

Outside the classroom, I would spend my afternoons on Zoom calls with other climate activists strategizing ways to advocate for our futures, or attending civic engagement events traveling through the Metrorail to downtown, asking legislators to act in the interest of their young constituents. Pouring all of my hours into the concern that spoke most to my soul, I ached for more time to dedicate to my passion.

After spending three years worrying, educating others and advocating for this crisis, frustration began seeping into my heart. I found myself crying during my weekly strategy meeting from pure burnout; the community I had found myself in had become overwhelming.

I ventured on finding a balance between my advocacy and my senior year.

I decided to enjoy being in high school instead of resenting my youth. I joined my first sports team, diving, and became cocaptain of another, Badminton. I embraced school traditions, soaking in the fleeting moments of being 17. I approached my city as a tourist, exploring the areas I worked to protect with the same awe as the first time I had seen them. Through this, I became a better activist: I learned how to embrace discomfort, understanding that no matter how old you may be, you always can be a learner and that a friendship lies only a conversation away. Since the age of 15, I knew what I would dedicate my life towards; however, it was only until I turned 17 that I discovered how to truly live it.

12| FEATURE

Julia Strasius

Each morning I woke up to the same thing: khaki pants, ironed shirt, penny loafers, a Vera Bradley lunch box and the seven-minute drive with my mom to school. For elementary and middle school, I attended Saint Louis Covenant School, a local, Catholic K-8 with each grade consisting of about 50 kids. My stomach growled in religion class as I waited for the lunch bell to ring and when it did, 23 pairs of shiny brown penny loafers scurried to the door and formed a line behind it. As line leader, I led our class in prayer before we walked to the cafeteria.

Despite being a close-knit group given our size, even in middle school, I thought of myself as the “quiet kid” who struggled with coming out of her shell. I broke into a subtle sweat when a teacher announced we would have to present a project alone and never found myself fitting into a set group.

The transition to high school was terrifying. I was one of the only people in my graduating class to attend Miami Palmetto Senior High and I questioned whether it was the right move for me. My class of 50 kids turned into over 700 complete and total strangers. To my surprise, I felt nothing but excitement when I was introduced to the diversity that MPSH had to offer. I had really only known one community growing up, but at Palmetto, I met students who practiced Buddhism and Hinduism and realized that I was no longer confined to a socially anxious girl’s private school bubble.

Looking at the past four years, I cannot imagine my high school experience without the foundation that Palmetto gave me and the people and experiences that it introduced me to.

I do not recognize the girl I was freshman year. She was timid and shy and would get to her AP Human Geography class 40

BUSINESS MANAGER

minutes early only to sit in the hallway outside until class started.

She did not go out much. She would not raise her hand in class even if she knew the answer. But one thing I do know is that she would be proud of where I am today: on my way to the University of Florida to pursue a degree in business, unafraid to introduce myself to whoever, whenever.

Thank you to my sister for encouraging me to join The Panther.

I was skeptical about having you as my Editor-in-Chief, but you were an amazing leader and role model for me on staff. You never failed to tell me if one of my stories was awful but always found a way to help me improve it and learn from my mistakes.

Thank you to Ms. Aviles for being such a wonderful advisor, and for dealing with my millions of questions about our monthly financial reports and advertisements. I think I finally got the hang of it. You taught all of us the importance of journalists in our world and the great impact our writing can have.

Thank you to The Panther for teaching me what a true school family looks like. There has never been a dull moment in class, whether we are listening to Taylor Swift or experiencing the stress of sending to print. New leadership, we could not have chosen better and I cannot wait to see what you do in the future.

I always cringed at the people who said goodbyes were hard, but saying goodbye to Palmetto will be one of the hardest. Although the 13-year-long routine of khaki pants, penny loafers and polo shirts is gone, I will not forget the girl who wore them and the woman she has become. I remember my ability to adapt to new environments and meet new people and I envision its power in my future.

FEATURE |13

CONTENTS/ COPY EDITOR

Angelina Astic

Sunshine and rainbows. Dancing on coconuts in the backyard.

Smiling at strangers as I skipped through grocery store aisles.

Singing John Mayer and Coldplay in the back of the car. Growing up, I was dubbed the “Sunshine Girl.” Swirling in pink-tulle skirts that swished just so and wearing plastic crowns that were far too big for my head and shoes covered in sequins, I looked at the world with big brown eyes, mesmerized by all it had to offer. Through all that mesmerization and wonder at this great big place I found myself in, I have realized what it truly means to be the “Sunshine Girl,” and it is not just all sunshine and rainbows.

Compassion. Growing up, I had trouble understanding the phrase “I don’t care.” When I walk past passersby and ask how they are doing, I pause because I genuinely care about how they are. In conversation with friends, when they mention their favorite color, movie, snack, etc., I try to make note of those little facts.

Simply put, to me, it is cool to care. Playing in the sandbox at the park when I was little, a girl began to cry. Not knowing what else to do, I got up, sat beside her and gave her a hug. Many years later, my mother revealed to me how much that had moved the little girl’s mother. I mention this because compassion comes in a multitude of forms and often is forgotten. However, in a moment of need, compassion is the one thing that cures all ailments and encourages one to move forward, no matter the obstacle.

Gratitude. Life is short, and every moment is worth celebrating.

One Halloween, my mother had spent the day at the local Hallmark store and assembled gift baskets for my brother and I with our favorite treats. In the spirit of being completely honest, I do not remember what the baskets were filled with but fondly recall the gratitude that filled my heart. Gratitude for instances like these means pausing, appreciating the small joys in life and allowing

them to propel you forward.

Love. I love to love. Like most little girls, I grew up dreaming of my “Prince Charming,” someone who would come and sweep me off my feet. A big white wedding, complete with a dress that would envy the likes of the brides on “Say Yes to the Dress.” Looking at my parents and reading the storybooks that lined my overflowing butterfly bookshelves gave me a very rigid view of what love was.

Love, to me, was aa romantic, distant realm of life that very few people had the privilege of experiencing in full. As a little girl, I never stopped to think of the caterpillars I saved, hugs I gave, compliments I said and laughs I shared, all of which are innocently beautiful acts of love. The most important lesson I have learned in life is to do all things with love. Love cures all. Prince Charming or not, I have realized that I am not — and never was — in need of saving because of love. In leading with love, my ability to both feel and spread joy multiplies, all while continuing to save myself and the world.

Sunshine and rainbows. My view on being the “Sunshine Girl” has changed since my early years. The world looks a bit foggier and glimmers a bit less than I remember. Challenges have become more difficult to overcome and life is so much more complicated.

However, like my teacher Mr. Spiegelman taught me, I can slay my own dragons. This Sunshine Girl can continue to lead with compassion, gratitude and love. As I prepare to embark on the next chapter of my fairytale, I remember the caterpillars I saved, which later turned into butterflies, and hope to become half as brave and beautiful as they were.

14| FEATURE

Cayetana Jaramillo No one will ever properly prepare for the reality of high school. Each person has a distinct and unparalleled experience during these formative years of one’s life. The four years of high school form an odd space-time continuum where adolescents navigate their many firsts and make numerous mistakes that will be the life lessons they carry into the next stage of their life. I learned many things throughout high school, yet each year I learned a new formative lesson. I struggled, but in the end, I found value in hard work, responsibility, perseverance and patience.

Freshman year: one of nerves, first impressions and insecurities. I entered my first year of high school full to the brim with nerves and expectations.

I drifted through middle school with top grades and minimal effort. My older friends and siblings warned me of the long study hours, confusion and the willingness to fail and learn that accompanied the high school academic journey. I took my first AP classes, quickly learning what it meant to take advanced classes in high school: hard work. I learned what it actually meant to study for a test. In the end, it was a rewarding experience because my academic achievements reflected my efforts. Most importantly, I learned how to effectively manage and divide my time between schoolwork and diversion.

I made my own mistakes throughout the process and through those mistakes, I made the unique changes I needed to better myself and my work ethic.

Sophomore year: one of new passions, greater confidence and drastic changes. I took my favorite classes that year and joined clubs and organizations that I actually enjoyed. I learned to drive.

I began to juggle more responsibilities at school and at home; it made me feel like a real high schooler. Just when everything seemed to be falling into place, the

OPINION EDITOR

inexplicable happened. Isolation led to a whole new set of anxieties, but that extra time that I had never dedicated to myself allowed me to grow into a more confident version of myself. Despite the uncertainty of the near future, I took that time to consider what exactly I wanted to get out of my remaining high school years and how to visualize my biggest dream that seemed not so far away anymore: college.

Junior year: one of challenges.

As I reflect on this year, I’m reminded of an obstacle course that I continuously pushed through. For nine straight months, I maintained the most motivation I ever had in my life. I fought for my grades in my hardest classes, started my own weekly newsletter, studied long hours for the SAT and struggled to learn in our new in-person environment. Yet, I persevered.

I was so focused on the end of the year and what all of this hard work would mean for my senior year. Every setback only pushed me to work and try harder on the next one. I am grateful everyday for my perseverance that year, and hope to hold on to it for as long as I can.

Senior year: a year I will never forget. The first semester of anyone’s senior year can be a bit overwhelming with the many deadlines and experiences one does not want to miss out on – an emotional rollercoaster to say the least.

Patience is key throughout this whole process because eventually, all will be done. I grew up around the same friends, classmates, families and neighborhoods the entirety of my 18 years. As this chapter of my life nears its end, I look back in awe at the different paths and lessons each person in my life took to get where they are now. As I wait patiently for the day I get to walk across the stage and seal the final note on my high school years, I cannot help but wonder what the next four years will teach me.

FEATURE |15 MULTIMEDIA VIDEO EDITOR The growing allure of YouTube fame drove me to create my own channel with some of my middle school friends. We posted trendy videos at the time like the Yoga Challenge, racking up hundreds of views. Although my channel earned less than a dollar, I had an audience — which was its own reward. Soon, though, dissatisfaction with one channel turned into the creation of another.

I accumulated “failed” YouTube channels, averaging 18 subscribers each before they were deleted. I never became a YouTube sensation, but I gained a powerful tool — the ability to edit.

Making videos became less of a race for fame and more of a useful skill. I directed several Martial Arts tutorials for Youth Empowerment Systems, developing my editing skills along the way. Discouraged by the past, though, I kept the thought of filmmaking at a distance.

As the pressure to decide on a college major increased, I hesitantly settled on a medical path with my family’s wishes in mind. In their heads, I would become a pediatrician — no wait — a dermatologist — actually — a neurosurgeon.

Yes, a neurosurgeon. As I quickly applied for volunteering positions at local hospitals, quarantine took me by surprise, offering clarity during an uncertain time. The inability to interact with other people left me to confide in my films.

The vlog-style tribute films I created captured each of my friend’s special traits through various cinematic styles. Despite the experimental nature of these films, they evoked sincere, meaningful reactions from their audiences, and with that, my confidence grew.

Filmmaking turned into something more meaningful. Not only did it serve as an expressive outlet, but it preserved memories along the way. As quarantine solidified my pursuit of a filmmaking career, I decided to make my first short film, testing my ability to direct, edit and tell a captivating story. Every day, I would wake up with an overwhelming swarm of ideas, and every night I would reluctantly fall asleep, yearning to continue working on the film. Letters of Support went on to win a Gold Key in the Scholastic Art and Writings Award, an honorable mention in the international Art Against Atrocities competition, a laurel from the Asian Film Festival, Los Angeles Hollywood and an honorable mention from the

Mikayla Ashe

National YoungArts Foundation. Finally, I had found my purpose and recognized the power behind a camera; but more importantly, I realized that I had real potential.

Many films later, I have learned so many valuable lessons, both about filmmaking and myself. One, real experiences are the foundation of honest and powerful storytelling. You cannot learn how to tell a story, you have to live to tell it. Two, to appreciate the importance of a strong team in making better art. In one of my short films, I Will, I experienced first-hand the trials and tribulations of working collaboratively.

Nevertheless, my team and I enthusiastically fed off each other’s ideas on how to approach each scene filmed. We were not aiming for perfection, but we wanted the final product to be right and honest. And it was, both in front of the camera and behind it. Lastly, If you are doing what everyone else is doing, you are doing it wrong. Starting as an amateur iMovie editor, I have realized that the joy of filmmaking goes beyond just YouTube and posting trendy videos. It was finding a voice of my own. My story never graced a YouTube screen again, but instead, premiered on a fortyfoot screen in the heart of Los Angeles.

Four years before my journey towards self-discovery in the form of filmmaking and expression, in my eighth grade English class, I wrote a letter to my future self. More specifically, a letter to my future self graduating high school.

I do not remember many of the details, but I do remember this: do what you love. For the majority of my life, my interests were far different from other people’s. I remember wanting to be an illustrator, and then from an illustrator to a YouTube star. As I surrounded myself with peers pursuing pre-professional careers, my ambitions were often challenged. I did not fully love medicine, I did not fully love engineering, I did not fully love law — so what did I love? With time, I traded in my dresses for button-ups, ballet shoes for my black belt and, of course, aspirations in the medical field for my love of film. I never would have thought I would gather the courage to follow the unconventional path. But standing here today, an incoming University of Southern California School of Cinematic Arts student, I can say with confidence: I am doing what I love.

16| FEATURE

Denise Vaque

My first day of high school paralleled the movies perfectly — a new kid from out-of-state who was too scared to talk to anyone, too scared to say the wrong thing, too scared to make a mistake. As a result, I ate lunch by myself and indulged in a gluttonous amount of self-pity. I came home from school, sighing on the way home and retreating to my room. Unlike the movies, I did not become popular or involved in some huge drama; I just existed, like a jellyfish floating aimlessly under the waves of a turbulent ocean.

If I’m being honest, my life would make a pretty anticlimactic coming-of-age movie.

Comfortable with solidarity, I found myself eating lunch alone on many occasions. Throughout my high school career, I have bounced around from eating at the “Pawvillion,” to the entrance of the auditorium, to Ms. Pizarro’s classroom, to my desk at home, to the courtyard and back to the “Pawvillion” again, sometimes accompanied by friends, but most of the time by a good book.

Charmed by the idealistic version of high school, I found my experience to be very different. I yearned for things to improve and to get my moments of adventure and happiness; however, the wait quickly became excruciating. It was like being perpetually trapped in the conflict part of a story, when the main character is at their lowest before things get better. Yet, things just did not get better.

I quickly realized that high school is not a coming-of-age film.

There is no screenwriter crafting the perfect story arc and the soundtrack to your life does not suddenly transition from sad to happy, from “Red” to “Reputation” Taylor Swift, by itself. You need to add those songs to your playlist — you have to be the one to make those changes.

So, when I finally took my life into my own hands, things slowly started to improve. I forced myself to get up and get out of my own way. I bonded with strangers who would eventually become my best friends. If I had never gotten out of my own head, I never would have tried out for the cheer team, never would have become president of Palmetto’s Women’s Union, never would

DESIGN EDITOR

have joined CTS at Zoo Miami, never would have spent summer mornings waking up to watch the sunrise, never would have gone for midnight ice cream runs and never would have had the courage to join newspaper and publish my inner thoughts and vulnerabilities for everyone to read, yet here I am. It suffices to say that I would not be the same person I am today.

Nevertheless, there is always bad to balance out the good. This year I got rejected from my “dream” college, got my first “C” in a class with AP Macroeconomics, lost out on a needed scholarship and my pet bird flew away through an open door, never to be seen again. However, I have realized that along with the good, the hardships we face on our journey are what make us who we are. So, I have tried to find the silver linings in every dark cloud. I am going to NYU – a dream come true, I am still graduating high school and do not plan on majoring in economics anyways, there will be other scholarship opportunities that I may have to work harder for and, well, my bird flying away just sucks but you can not win them all.

Even when life takes you on a detour, you will still end up where you are meant to be.

So here is my advice: live shamelessly. Make mistakes, take up space, laugh loudly, confess your feelings, state your opinions, get into trouble, wear clothes that make you feel good, listen to music and be friends with people who make you happy.

Whatever you want to do, go for it. Do not fear judgment and temporary consequences when the long-term regret of not taking a risk and missing out on something wonderful exists.

And in terms of coming-of-age movies, I have had my fair share of late-night drives blasting Rex Orange County and music my parents used to listen to, cathartic cries over insignificant thoughts and dancing like nobody is watching. I am not the main character (yet). But I am a completely different person than the meek girl who first entered Palmetto four years ago, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

FEATURE |17

DESIGN EDITOR “IDOL.” Headphones stuffed into each ear, I listened to the fluttering rhyme and followed the pulsing rhythm of the song.

As the music video finished, my love for the South Korean boy band, BTS, solidified. BTS has played a crucial role in helping me define and accept my gay, Asian identity. Liking BTS is an understatement; I own countless albums, collect photocards and watch all of their interviews. While I’m not a skilled dancer or singer (although I try my best), I feel like I have much in common with BTS. The band is often criticized in the United States for not conforming to cultural and gender stereotypes, so it’s no surprise that I found myself relating to the struggles they face as a firstgeneration, gay Asian American.

I first faced the challenge of self-acceptance as a preteen.

Attending a predominantly white, Catholic elementary school, I stood out. Oftentimes, I found myself sitting alone during lunch as my peers laughed at my traditional pork and chive dumplings.

Pinching their noses in disgust, they shunned and instilled a feeling of inferiority within me. This shattered the pride I held in my mother’s traditional Chinese cooking and soon, I replaced dumplings with Lunchables. Simultaneously, I closeted the more feminine aspects of my personality in fear of being bullied; however, I did a poor job at hiding this. My peers continued to mock and harass me for not fitting their masculine standards. The taunts I overheard for playing with My Little Ponies or choosing pink as my favorite color during icebreakers in class were seemingly endless. The internal struggle of being both Asian and gay made me feel deeply insecure and fostered a constant desire to “fit in.”

As I transitioned to an all-boys, Jesuit middle school, my insecurities followed. My daily religion classes preached

Paul Yan

conservative teachings in relation to social issues, specifically speaking down on gay marriage. Walking through the hallways was torturous. Deep down, I knew I was gay, but I didn’t want to confirm my classmates’ teasings.

Amid these struggles, I watched my first BTS music video, “IDOL,” and I couldn’t peel my eyes from the computer screen.

Their detailed outfits, hair and makeup captivated me. Within twenty minutes, I rewatched the video five times and memorized all the words. However, what truly rendered me speechless was their unapologetic authenticity. The song was part of an album titled “Love Yourself” and sent a message that resonated with my previous experiences. I found self-assurance and security from finally seeing someone like me gain success in the entertainment industry.

Stepping into Miami Palmetto Senior High, I was determined to have a different experience from middle school and be secure in my own identity despite all outcomes. I became heavily involved in clubs and extracurriculars like Asian Culture Club and Debate Club, as it was important for me to inspire others to gain their own confidence. In Asian Culture Club, in addition to watching BTS videos, I contribute to a safe space for Asian Americans to discuss their obstacles. In debate, I encourage members to voice their own opinions regardless of societal pressures. Additionally, I met a group of friends who supported me and gave me a sense of security within Palmetto. They encouraged me to join the school newspaper, The Panther, which provided me with an outlet to write about my experiences and help others on their journey to selfconfidence and acceptances.

18| FEATURE

Tomas Curcio Emotions constantly stupify me. They create deep connections, akin to the strong nuclear forces that devoutly glue miniscule protons and neutrons together, between all vertebrates. Because no matter the specific flesh and pelt that encircles a bony Doric column, inner emotions plague all these organic forms just the same. Think of Gustave Courbet’s oil painting, “Self-Portrait with a Black Dog,” which explores a brief intimate moment of the artist alongside the dutiful titled companion. Courbet has oiled that nonverbal vertebraic comradery perfectly with a shared side glance to the solitary moment’s intruder — the pesky viewer. Emotions derive from an inherent imbalance in surrounding stimuli, acting as a special quirk of the intensely volatile reality we unfortunately, yet fortunately, inhabit.

All rely upon emotions, at times to a depressing fault. But humans have an unique sense of this world — a paradoxical disposition towards both reality’s portrayal and its subsequent abstraction through any means necessary, whether through medium, style, or any other artistic liberty.

Art, I believe, acts as the great connecting force of the collective consciousness, the encompassing reality and societal format that humans both rely upon and live trapped within. Art portrays human emotion in its purest form, allowing a peek into the homo sapien’s objectively incomprehensible psyche. Without emotion, art becomes void; in reality, art would not exist. Art stems from an innate ambition of the human condition to feel out the limited boundaries of a base three-dimensional, five sense world and to occupy its highest potential or even attempt beyond.

I am not an artist; I am not saying this in some modest gesture to avoid praise, or as a representative of naïve art, art distributed to the masses by an untrained producer. Never has the glorious intuition to prop up an easel and patiently measure the sun’s effect on a haystack’s shadows at different times of the day, or that sudden and wild urge to flick paint vigorously across a canvas ever washed over me instinctually. Art exists as the hall of egress for society’s geniuses; not in terms of logical thinking, or even social interactions but of the ability to escape the human condition of isolated thought, and directly harmonically pluck the collective consciousness’s gut strings. That sort of genius I

STAFF WRITER am not, but an admirer of, I sure am.

Art’s first impact on my life comes to me now as a vision, a distant fuzzy screenshot of friendly television personalities imploring me to try the same fun activities at home: I never did. However, the application’s possibility randomly stuck with me. I remember Kindergarten quickly proclaiming “artist” as a hypothetical career when asked to numerically list types of jobs. I imagined myself, a rowdy five-year-old with a dirty smock, messy palette and a blank canvas set before me. However, the canvas remained blank, for I soon shook free of the childhood craze, and forgot about the whole infantine ordeal.

Art returned to me years later as the former of a two word subject: art history. I had not thought much about ticking off the box; I knew I liked history, so it seemed an obvious class to take. The history of art begins at the same spot where general history begins, sprawled upon caves. In actuality, art predates history. History intrinsically describes the past through the perspective and evidence of writing. Art, such as the charcoal drawings in the Cave of Altamira or the plump fertility figurine of the Venus of Willendorf predate writing systems of their respective cultures.

I had taken history classes before, but I never felt anything. There exists obvious romanticism about the rise and fall of civilizations, wars, heroes and villains that one can read about in textbooks, but I just never felt it. I viewed history merely from the perspective of a didactic logician, consistent cause and effect, rather than that of a curious explorer, until art history.

I submit that art is the most beautiful thing there is, and also the most demanding. Through both its direct reality inflictions and metaphysical proportions and desires, it remains incomparable to anything else that humans have ever found themselves capable of doing. Art has forged itself in my mind as paradoxically both life’s greatest hardship, and the cure to this same self-inflicted hardship. It journeys forward atop reality’s long, stark blacktop as an emotionally powered vehicle without a speed limit, and I intend to stick my thumb out hitching a ride for the long haul as a modest, yet aspiring art historian.

THE PANTHER commits to college!

DARMOUTH DARMOUTH COLLEGE COLLEGE

DUKE DUKE UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY

NORTHWESTERN NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY

UNIVERSITY OF S. CALIFORNIA

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

POMONA POMONA COLLEGE COLLEGE

UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY OF OF FLORIDA FLORIDA

BROWN BROWN UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY

FLORIDA FLORIDA STATE STATE UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY

POMONA COLLEGE

NEW NEW YORK YORK UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY

UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY OF OF FLORIDA FLORIDA

UNIVERSITY OF S. CALIFORNIA

THE PANTHER Most likely to....

BECOME AN FBI AGENT

BLAST TAYLOR SWIFT

WIN WIN A A BAKING BAKING COMPTETITION COMPTETITION

BECOME AN AUTHOR

BE ON A REALITY SHOW

TRAVEL THE WORLD

STAR STAR IN IN A A BTS BTS MUSIC MUSIC VIDEO VIDEO

BECOME BECOME A A MARVEL MARVEL CRITIC CRITIC

OWN OWN AN AN ART ART GALLERY GALLERY

BE BE A A TREND TREND SETTER SETTER

SAVE SAVE THE THE WORLD WORLD

BE A MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER

WIN WIN THE THE HUNGER HUNGER GAMES GAMES

22| ADS THANK THANK YOU YOU TO TO OUR OUR MAY MAY DONORS DONORS ANTONIO AND ROSCHEN MARTIN

STAFF

Print Co-Editor-In-Chief Samantha Elkins

Online Co-Editor-In-Chief Amy-Grace Shapiro

Managing Editor Ava Garcia

Senior Copy Editor Nicole Martin

Senior Design Editor Ella Pedroso

Senior Multimedia Editor Ryan Mckean

Business Manager Jasmine Judge

Feature Editors Bella Martin Alison Gould

Contents Editor Angelina Astic

News Editors Ana Martinez Kate Stuzin

staff editorial

Students in high school are held to various standards: beauty, academic, social and more. However, the standard that is often ignored, yet common in a teenager’s life is the “summer standard.” Where one is held to the expectation that they must go out of state, travel to a different continent, get a job or internship, have a huge glowup, constantly be engaged in a social setting or any other unrealistic expectation.

This pressure causes many to feel as though they cannot have fun unless they exceed one of these presumptions. Truthfully, the real fun of summer lies in doing what you enjoy and focusing on yourself.

This means making this summer yours. Obviously one would love to backpack around Europe, attend a number of concerts and attain the coolest job, but doing all of these things in one summer remains virtually impossible. Instead, taking time to focus on the things you love most and doing what is within your control will create the best summer. At the end of the day, no one cares how many parties you attended during the two and half month break from school; what matters is that you cherished your summer for yourself without trying to accomplish the pressures placed upon you by society.

Life Editor

Kate Markus

Sports Editor

Michael Angee

Opinion Editor

Cayetana Jaramillo

Multimedia Team Mikayla Ashe Valentina Arias Isabella Hewitt Ava Stuzin

Copy Team

Angelina Astic Eitan Greenberg Katriona Page Sara Paredes

Design Team

Gianna Hutton Jasmine Judge Paul Yan Denise Vaque Julia Strasius

Staff Writers

Tomas Curcio

Adviser

Laura Aviles

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MISSION STATEMENT The Panther staff aims to inform fellow students and parents about school-wide, local, national, and international news. The Panther’s content aims to represent the student body. Editorials feature the opinions of staffers. Features of other students, teachers and clubs further promote the spirit, culture and personality of Miami Palmetto Senior High School.

EDITORIAL POLICY The Panther is a monthly publication of Miami Palmetto Senior High located at 7431 SW 120th Street Miami, FL 33156, (305) 235-1360 ext. 1124. The views expressed are solely those of The Panther staff.

Students who wish to respond to an article in this publication or discuss another issue may write letters to the editor and submit them to room 1237 or e-mail us at n.markus.thepanther@gmail. com. The Panther has professional membership in NSPA and CSPA. The Panther prints 1,400 copies per issue for distribution. The Panther is distributed for free to all students in school. Please visit our paper online at thepalmettopanther.com.

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All creative work (such as illustrations, graphics, photos and writing) excluding staff editorials and staff member pictures will include byline credits.

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Any errors in print will be acknowledged in the next print issue in a correction box. Any errors online will be acknowledged immediately. Errors include facts, figures, misquoting and name misspellings.

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ANTI-DISCRIMINATION POLICY The School Board shall comply with all Federal Laws and regulations prohibiting discrimination and all requirements and regulations of the U.S. Department of Education. The Board will enforce its prohibition against discrimination/harassment based on sex, race, color, ethnic, or national origin, religion, marital status, disability, age, political beliefs, sexual orientation, gender, gender identification, social and family background, linguistic preference, pregnancy and any other basis prohibited by law. The Board shall maintain an educational and work environment free from all forms of discrimination/harassment, which includes Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972. Title IX prohibits sexual harassment and other sexual misconduct such as unwelcome touching, graphic verbal comments, sexual jokes, slurs, gestures or pictures. All students, administrators, teachers, staff, and all other school personnel share responsibility for avoiding, discouraging, and reporting any form of prohibited discrimination or harassment against students by employees, other students and their parents or guardians, or third parties. This policy prohibits discrimination and harassment at all School District operations, programs, and activities on school property, or at another location if it occurs during an activity sponsored by the Board.