Viewpoints Spring 2014

VIEWPOINTS

Spring 2014 Western Reserve academy

Editor in Chief Alex Fellows, ‘14 Art Director & Principal Illustrator Camry Harris, ‘14 Student Editors Kelsey Gordon, ‘14 Abby Hermosilla, ‘14 Anna McMurchy, ‘15 Additional Illustrators Max Borrmann, ‘16 Chloe Cusimano, ‘14 Elliot Ong, ‘17 Neva Onysko, ‘16 Taryn Washburn, ‘16 Faculty Advisor Richard (Diccon) P. B. Ong, ‘81 The opinions expressed in this journal do not necessarily reflect the views of the editor, the staff, the faculty advisor or Western Reserve Academy. The viewpoints contained herein should be understood to belong exclusively to the individual authors responsible for presenting them.

Cover illustration by Camry Harris. Journal layout and formatting by Diccon Ong.

VIEWPOINTS Volume TEN

Spring 2014

Table of Contents From the Editor ............................................................................................ 8 Alex Fellows, ‘14

Articles: A Friend’s Lament ....................................................................................... 11 Alex Fellows, ‘14 Derivation of a Dream................................................................................ 13 Max Forsyth, ‘15 The Beauty of Communication ................................................................. 16 Kelsey Gordon, ‘14 Mindo ............................................................................................................ 18 Abby Hermosilla, ‘14 My Week with Carlin ................................................................................. 21 Lauren Kolar, ‘14 A River Runs Through Me ........................................................................ 28 Irina Kopyeva, ‘15 A Champion Defeated ............................................................................... 31 Brett Kramer, ‘15 Memoir of An Abysmal Athlete .............................................................. 33 Trevor Levin, ‘15 What Really Goes On Behind the Scenes ............................................... 36 Anna McMurchy, ‘15 Accident of Birth ......................................................................................... 41 Alena Nichols, ‘14 It’s a’ me! Mario!: A (Literal) Link to the Player .................................... 43 Simon Ong, ‘15

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Expectations ................................................................................................. 50 Monica Petras, ‘14 A Mermaid’s Tale........................................................................................ 53 Sibel Sarac, ‘14 Politics As Usual ......................................................................................... 56 Graham Sell, ‘13 And The Crowd Goes Wild ....................................................................... 59 Conner Semple, ‘15 Family Dinner .............................................................................................. 61 Selena Walsh, ‘14 Make the Best of You ................................................................................. 63 Paige Warner, ‘15 Listening ....................................................................................................... 65 Ann Yu, ‘14 Coffee ............................................................................................................ 67 Catherine (Wren) Zandee, ‘16 Fear and Loathing at WRA ........................................................................ 70 Catherine (Wren) Zandee, ‘16

On Special Assignment: bal•ance \ˈba-lən(t)s\ ............................................................................... 74 Tiffany Chung, ‘14 change \ˈchānj\ ......................................................................................... 77 Kelsey Gordon, ‘14 con•duct \ˈkän-dəkt\ .............................................................................. 79 Harold Zhu, ‘14 hu•man \ˈhyü-mən\ ............................................................................... 82 Eric Chueh, ‘14

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in•som•nia \in-ˈsäm-nē-ə\ ..................................................................... 85 Ziyou Fan, ‘14 love \ˈləv\ .................................................................................................. 87 Amy Squire, ‘14 of•fense \ə-ˈfen(t)s\ ................................................................................. 90 Alex Campana, ‘14 rev•o•lu•tion \ˌre-və-ˈlü-shən\ .............................................................. 92 Lily Liu, ‘14 YOLO \’ yoh-loh \ ................................................................................... 95 Jack McKenzie, ‘14

History Writing Contest: First Place Winners, 2011-2012 American History Division: A Subsidy Nightmare: The Government’s Destructive Ethanol Policy ....................................... 99 Rebecca Cartellone, ‘13 World History Division: A World Failure: Ignoring Genocide ........................................................................................ 111 Rahu Basu, ‘15

Chapel Speeches: “This I Believe” Ben Griffin, ‘13 .............................................................................................. 125 February 25, 2013 Amy Squire, ‘14 ............................................................................................ 128 November 15, 2013 Tricia Cunningham, ‘14 ............................................................................... 131 December 5, 2013

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Alex Fellows, ‘14 .......................................................................................... 134 December 9, 2013 Noor Alali, ‘14 .............................................................................................. 137 January 9, 2014 Shiqi (Rebecca) Li, ‘14 .................................................................................. 139 January 13, 2014 Selena Walsh, ‘14 .......................................................................................... 142 February 3, 2014 Imani Brooks, ’14 .......................................................................................... 144 February 7, 2014 Kelsey Gordon, ‘14 ....................................................................................... 146 February 17, 2014 Tiffany Chung, ’14 ....................................................................................... 148 February 21, 2014 Jack McKenzie, ’14 ....................................................................................... 150 February 28, 2014 Mitch Pollock, ‘14 ......................................................................................... 153 March 7, 2014 Jung Hyun Min, ‘14...................................................................................... 157 March 7, 2014 Wade-Watta Kamara ................................................................................... 159 March 10, 2014 Ann Yu, ‘14 ................................................................................................... 162 April 1, 2014 Angelle (Jelly) Henkelmann, ‘14 ................................................................ 165 April 7, 2014 Camry Harris, ’14 ......................................................................................... 167 April 7, 2014

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Miranda Fetterman, ‘14 ............................................................................... 169 April 14, 2014 Maggie Wise, ’14 .......................................................................................... 172 May 2, 2104 Griffin Trau, ’14 ............................................................................................ 175 May 2, 2014

Viewpoints Survey ................................................................................ 179

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FROM THE EDITOR I am starting to think that every Western Reserve Academy student has had some scarring encounter with non-fiction. Some past event so traumatizing that even an offer of a Chipotle gift card fails to make these students face their fears. I say this, of course, for each year seems to require more pleading from us at Viewpoints for articles. The fear of non-fiction must have increased exponentially this year; for I began to worry I would not see the almighty tenth edition come to fruition. Alas, here I am, writing my last “From the Editor” essay of my Reserve career, soon to be sent off to the printers.

Before my weepy nostalgia overwhelms this introductory letter, I must express a vital opinion of mine to future Pioneers: non-fiction is cool! I will admit, I was hesitant about this whole Viewpoints nonsense both freshmen and even a bit of sophomore year. As a young editor, I was forced to read and revise Viewpoints’ “bountiful” submissions; however, the work quickly transformed into a source of pleasure. This publication—this non-fiction publication—gives you the hidden details of the many intricate lives inhabiting Reserve. Thanks to Viewpoints, I have been able to read about a student losing herself in a foreign country, another who has been addicted to coffee since middle school, and even a student who believes she is a mermaid. This is the power of non-fiction; a power that is not to be feared. So, when reviewing by this journal, appreciate it and recognize the many fond memories it will allow you to relive.

With that plug aside, I may now begin confessing the great melancholy that is my final publication of Viewpoints. It has been a crazy ride since I was first asked to join the staff as a sophomore. I had little idea what I was doing then; I guess not much has changed. I do know that this has been an unforgettable experience, filled with puppy eyes at Morning Meetings to carrying around large stacks of paper during the spring, ready to edit at any moment, pen in hand. Above all, I will never forget the deep satisfaction of picking up a freshly-printed Viewpoints, knowing that I had had a part in making this small piece of WRA history a reality.

Now, of course, I must give my thanks. First, thanks to everyone who faced their fears and submitted articles. Thanks also to Camry Harris and her team of art ninjas who gave life and spark to our many pages of text. Thanks to Kelsey Gordon and Abby Hermosilla for

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relieving some of my stress through their work in editing articles and organizing the survey. Thanks go out to Mrs. McKenzie and her AP English class for helping us generate content for our “On Special Assignment” section. Special thanks are due to Anna McMurchy, who also helped in editing, but will more importantly be taking the crown of Editor in Chief next year. She is, without a doubt, the most condensed being of wit I have ever encountered. This naturally means that the publication is being left in most capable hands—best of luck, my sweet.

Finally, I fear there are no words that will suffice in accurately thanking our faculty advisor, Mr. Ong. Never have I seen someone put more work into something as much as he has into this publication. Without Mr. Ong there would be no Viewpoints. He was my inspiration for completing this journal, and I am ever so proud to have had the chance to work with such an amazing, driven, and intelligent man.

With this, I type some of the last words of my Reserve career.

All I ask of you now is to dive into the articles that follow. Pick at random or with precision; either way, you will find pieces full of heart and personality.

Alex Fellows, ‘14 Editor in Chief May 2014

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ARTICLES

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A FRIEND’S LAMENTS Alex Fellows Senior Canton, Ohio

We like talking about how technology has so greatly disconnected us from society and each other. Typically, the advocates for such a position hail from older generations, raised in an era when one made phone calls via the operator. However, today’s teenagers are themselves increasingly beginning to echo such sentiments. Whether the statements mocking those who use technology are meant more to reprimand others for being disengaged from the surrounding world or if they are more an attempt to While I believe that the appear hip and “retro” remains unclear.

Regardless, while most sincere and caring modern-day Luddites argue form of love manifests over whether or not technology is turning us into robots, some of itself within a close my current relationships with friendship, others dear to friends have convinced me that me have attempted to we are perfectly capable of distancing ourselves from each convince me otherwise. other with any assistance from “Deep connections are only our various gadgets. made within a romance,” This is a pretty bold statement, I am aware, and thus they say. “Friendship is I should probably start with a just supposed to be casual,” brief explanation of my conception of friendship.

For they suggest. “Friends are me—someone who has never meant for nothing more had a romantic relationship in than having a good time,” high school (or at any other time of my life, for that matter)— they insist. friendships are all that I’ve got.

Throughout high school I have relied upon my friends to keep me sane and push me forwards. A deep bond exists between my closest friends and me—a bond which transcends the notion of a friend as being someone who merely makes you laugh. This view of things, however,

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apparently differentiates me from many of my own friends. While I believe that the most sincere and caring form of love manifests itself within a close friendship, others dear to me have attempted to convince me otherwise. “Deep connections are only made within a romance,” they say. “Friendship is just supposed to be casual,” they suggest.

“Friends are meant for nothing more than having a good time,” they insist.

Bullshit, I say! Call me crazy—as people so often do—but friendship means so much more than mere shared ideal pleasantries.

Don’t get me wrong; you should definitely be having a grand time with your friends. Going to the movies, sitting down to share a meal, hanging out and talking for hours—these casual things that just make you smile are certainly all a part of good friendships. Sometimes, however, when life just isn’t going my way, it’s during these times that I have come to depend deeply on mes amis. Though I know they most likely won’t have all the answers, having a few trusted people to whom I can vent always relieves some of the pressure. Unfortunately for me, internalizing rather than expressing one’s problems has become a big trend of those around me.

Perhaps it’s my extroverted personality that drives me to discuss my emotions with my friends, but I believe any type of person must open up if they are fully to experience love and reciprocate it. Selfreliance, though necessary, also has a tendency to shut out love. When you don’t let others into your mind, and vice versa, a small but important means of connecting is lost. When I can’t see this inner side of someone else, I cannot believe they truly care for me; I cannot find their love true. It creates a wall between us—a wall many times the size of what any technology may create. The worst part, however, is that while I can’t feel their love for me, I still love them with all my heart.

Honestly, I wish it was technology that played the main role in disconnecting us from each other. That would lead to a much simpler fix. A quick invite to hang out, in person, might suffice. When two people cannot express their feelings to one another . . . well, that’s a different story—one I am still trying to figure out. Until I do, I will keep loving in this emotionally disconnected world, however painfully unreciprocated that love may be, waiting for the person who understands as well as I do that smart phones are not the only things that can disrupt the bonds between us.

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THE DERIVATION OF A DREAM Max Forsyth Junior Akron, Ohio

Architecture is a profession that involves creativity, aesthetics, and mathematics. I was first introduced to architecture in third grade when Ted Curtis, an architect and my mother’s patient, spoke to my class about his profession. At the time, he had designed I have too many things Quaker Square in Akron, Ohio that I am involved in and was Vice President for during this period of my Capital Planning and Facilities Management at Akron life. If I had no other University. His presentation on obligations, I could draw Quaker Square captivated me so out my imagination, build much that even my teacher noticed my interest.

It could skyscrapers in my mind, have been that I just wanted to and then one day make pay close attention to a presentation that was made something out of it all. My possible by my mother, which is true desire is to be able to a big deal in elementary school, focus on the one thing that or maybe something else deep inside captured my interest.

I love. I long for simplicity Either way, he served as my after the hectic life of a spark, and my newfound high school student. interest in architecture would subsequently function as my proposed profession to the common question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Later though, I would discover that architecture truly interests me: it involves creative thinking, travel, and math.

I feel that my mind was built for architecture, because all I can think about is art and design. Whenever I am pursuing my studies, ideas and inspiration will distract me from a math problem, reading the next chapter of a book, or reviewing for a history test. In other words, I am a huge procrastinator. I try to finish my core studies first, but I always manage to drift off into a world of art, design, and architecture.

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Not only do I fall behind in my studies, but it also adversely impacts my extracurricular activities. Projects that I come up with are sidetracked by my imagination. I have too many things that I am involved in during this period of my life. If I had no other obligations, I could draw out my imagination, build skyscrapers in my mind, and then one day make something out of it all. My true desire is to be able to focus on the one thing that I love. I long for simplicity after the hectic life of a high school student.

While focusing on the value and complexity of my life, I wish to travel the world. I enjoy learning about new cultures, experiencing new ways of life, and learning more about the world in which I live, and architecture would potentially allow me to visit different countries across the globe. I would go on trips to find inspiration from buildings of different cultures, and maybe people would ask me to conduct a project in a different country. My grandfather used to travel across Europe for his profession, and he brought back with him many stories to share with his children and grandchildren. He has had an impact on my life in this way, because I yearn to attain experiences from around the world, just like him, and then bring these stories back home. He has shown me that the journey itself is more important than the ultimate destination. Already, I have visited many countries—Serbia, Greece, Italy, Germany, and France, to name a few—so I am accustomed to traveling, and that is why I hope to continue to explore the globe and experience what other countries have to offer. I don't want to live in one culture exclusively my whole life. I must see the whole world, and architecture is a profession that would allow me to do just that.

Art and inspiration come naturally to me, but my environment has forced a passion for mathematics upon me. Since my parents and grandparents are so smart, I never would think of doing something that didn’t involve the left-brain. It wouldn’t be accepted in my family, and it wouldn’t be accepted by me either. My grandfather, a very smart man, always used to test my math skills with problems that he had made.

Today, he still encourages me to find interest in mathematics because he believes it is the basis to everything. He used to be an electrical engineer, and now he plays around with stocks and numbers all by himself and has become very successful. Both of my parents possess a strong leftbrain as well. My father is a doctor, and my mother is a dentist. I aspire to be like them so I feel that I need to pick a profession that involves either math or science. On the other hand, I wish to pursue a career in an area that involves aesthetics and requires at least some artistic ability.

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Architecture provides the opportunity to blend both mathematics and art.

My parents have advised me to also focus on an engineering degree since they are concerned about the number of “starving architects” out in the world. They push me to take a deeper interest in engineering, because there is larger demand—and thus higher salaries— for engineers. I understand their reasoning, but my gut still tells me I need to pursue my dream of architecture. Could I be a world famous architect? I think I can. Anything is possible, and if I put my mind to it I believe I could achieve tremendous success. For now, I guess I need to stick to my math textbooks while I continue to pursue my passion of the arts. After all, my mind was built for architecture.

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THE BEAUTY OF COMMUNICATION Kelsey Gordon Senior Elyria, Ohio

When I was in the eighth grade, I began to study French, and was fascinated by the new sounds I could create. How could one word be expressed in hundreds of different ways? This curiosity influenced me to study abroad in Rennes, France the summer before my junior year.

On one particular day in this city, I discovered the power that lies within the details of communication.

It was the very first day of classes, and an event in the city resulted in several bus stations being temporarily closed. I attempted to navigate Rennes for the first There is something time, and I predictably ended up beautiful in the way one lost, stranded in this vast foreign city all by myself.

I was can string different sounds terrified, yet this fear led me to together and form words ask others for directions. In my and sentences that unconfident, broken French, I asked a kind woman where I faithfully depict actions could find the school. Laughing, and express emotions. she replied in English, Language is so simple in commending my courageous attempt at speaking French. She concept, yet remarkably then walked me to the closest complex in form. available bus station, and we engaged in an interesting conversation about our contrasting cultures.

It was in this moment that I discovered that while proper grammar and correct word choice may seem like the heart and soul of good writing and speaking, one’s tone of voice and body language also strongly influences the way we communicate with one another. This woman could tell that I was lost without my having to say so explicitly.

Therefore, she took time out of her day in order to make me feel safe. I began to realize the importance of language, and its constant, inescapable presence within my life. There is something beautiful in the way one can string different sounds together and form words and sentences that faithfully depict actions and express emotions. Language

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is so simple in concept, yet remarkably complex in form. While people can use many different forms of communication, we are all united by our use of language.

Every word we speak and each movement we make expresses something new about who we are and the message we want to convey about the world—language is the life blood of society.

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MINDO Abby Hermosilla Senior Kent, Ohio

That was when I realized they had abandoned me. I was working behind my camera, trying to capture a quiet woman standing on her porch; she glided a wooden comb through her stalk of black hair while a grey kitten peered out from between her legs. Her smile was faint and would likely only last for the milliseconds I had my camera out, as if she insisted I seize the portrait. I knew this was the one photograph I had been hoping for ever since I landed in this exotic country. I knew I could not live with the regret of failing to catch this woman in all her rustic elegance.

This is the story of how I got lost in Mindo, Ecuador.

When I peeked out from the viewfinder to wave a silent “thank you” to the woman, I realized the winding road into town was now deserted. The mass of fellow North American photography students had taken an undetected turn. And suddenly I was alone.

My study abroad in Ecuador with National Geographic Student Expeditions ran smoothly for the most part, yet I consider this particular incident one of the defining moments of my young life (so far, anyway).

As the child of Spanish-speaking immigrants to the United States, I found my life had always been It was not until high school infused with a rich and varied culture, yet I was always that I felt absolutely weighed down by the pressure compelled to try to reclaim of having to balance two my linguistic background, languages in my little head. I juggled my English and Spanish as I came to realize how by utilizing a sacred languageincapable I was of holding form: ‘Spanglish.’

Yet, once school became the central focus a simple conversation with in my life, English took over the my own parents. reins of my mental world and began dominate my speaking, writing, and thinking. My proficiency in Spanish fell from its previous shiny pedestal and rolled away into a

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dusty corner of my mind. With its decline, I grew increasingly ignorant of my heritage, as I steeped myself in the modern American traditions of mega-malls and rock music. It was not until high school that I felt absolutely compelled to try to reclaim my linguistic background, as I came to realize how incapable I was of holding a simple conversation with my own parents. I grew determined to rekindle the language of my ancestors in a country not far from my father’s birthplace. I remember thinking to myself, Ecuador would help me to speak the Spanish language, right?

Right, absolutely, right.

So that’s how I found my way to Ecuador. And that’s how I found myself all alone on that winding road. Jogging into town, I saw several natives just starting their mornings as they strolled into the pharmacies and markets. Roosters crowed and dogs barked toward the ripening sun, and my heart began to knock at my chest. I peeked into a tiny bakery and felt the hairs on my arms tingle with anticipation; this was the moment I could finally prove to myself that I was not a lost case to my heritage. Yet, before anyone could spot this wandering American, I ducked away from the bakery doorway as quickly as humanly possible.

Que haces, idiota? (What are you doing, you idiot?) I was so scared of relapsing back to ignorance and losing all the Spanish I worked so hard to regain. Suddenly, I heard someone call me from inside. “¿Necesitas ayuda, hermana?” (“Do you need help, honey?”)

Within that moment, some fantastical phenomenon tapped into my synapses; everything clicked. I spoke fluently with the baker and found the way back to the hostel. Yet, this experience brought something greater than a resolution to a conflict, something bigger than just getting over my fears of abandoning my culture. From that moment, I knew the mode of communiI figured, if I could cation so unique to the human race had become definite in my finally step into my own head. In retrospect, I underculture, perhaps, I could stood more than just the Spanish strive to immerse myself language; I grasped onto how humans naturally adapt. Maybe in others’ as well.

I wanted to be stranded, dive into an unknown world, and lose my sense of direction for a bit. I figured, if I could finally step into my own culture, perhaps, I could strive to immerse myself in others’ as well. All I had to do was fall astray to define what I wanted to do with my life: to embrace cultural

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roots at their cores.

I still have that photograph. There are tinges in the woman’s skin where the lens had not been wiped off properly, transforming her brown hue into a haziness I had only seen on deities. When it comes down to it, this woman had this distant role in my recapturing of heritage. She is a South American vine stretching and crawling into my memory and graces. She lives in Mindo, where the parrots are not taught how to say “Hola.� I miss that.

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MY WEEK WITH CARLIN Lauren Kolar Senior Hudson, Ohio

“The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, ‘I really want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.’” Thus spoke George Carlin, the comedian-philosopher so idolized by college students and cynics alike. To a stand-up comedy fan, Carlin represents the holy grail: not only is he, at least from what I had gathered, the most notable comedian of all time, but ask any modern comic, and they’ll list Carlin among their personal influences. Oddly enough, just two weeks earlier I had never seen or listened to any Carlin.

Yes, I was aware of his status as the (now deceased) King of Comedy, but I had never made the time to really listen to him. Therefore, I made a pact: each day, for a full week, I would watch one of his fourteen HBO specials. For obvious mathematical reasons, I was only able to watch half of this HBO canon, but I made an effort to spread my choices throughout the four decades of his televised career. Furthermore, I’d watch my selections in chronological order, so that I could track the evolution of Carlin, his humor and delivery.

The 1970s Sadly, I was incapable of finding a decent, non-Russian dubbed link to Carlin’s first special, On Location: Carlin at USC, released in 1977.

Luckily for me, his second Personally, I find that special, George Carlin Again!, was released only a year later and comedians who contained a decent amount of acknowledge their job and repeated material. What struck me right off the bat, besides his position within culture almost manic delivery and the operate on a different level passionate physical comedy than those who simply connected with it, was Carlin’s comic self-awareness, an almost show up and tell jokes. meta-vein of jokes intertwined

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with the typical social commentary and riffs on language that form the bulk of his material. One of the first sentences out of Carlin’s mouth, “That’s my job: making up goofy shit,” creates an immediate impression.

Personally, I find that comedians who acknowledge their job and position within culture operate on a different level than those who simply show up and tell jokes. That’s not to say that those who don’t are inferior, or less humorous, but rather I feel as if those who assert their comic identities establish a certain undeniable understanding of the medium and a special relationship to the audience. However, the most shocking bit of the nearly hour-and-a-half show involved an audience member throwing a joint onstage, followed quickly by a container of eye drops. From the perspective of someone familiar with contemporary comedy, it was strange to imagine a time where such occurrences were allowed on broadcast television. Conveniently, censorship presents itself as one of Carlin’s most passionate areas of commentary, most evident in ...

“Seven Dirty Words” Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tit * If you only ever watch one Carlin bit, make it this one. Not only does it hold up as a mega-classic of stand-up comedy, but it played a role in a highlypublicized obscenity trial, federal court decision, and subsequent censorship legislation. An article from The Atlantic notes that “In July 1972, Carlin was arrested on obscenity charges after performing ‘Seven Dirty Words.’” Set against the backdrop of modern comedy, this reaction seems outrageous. Furthermore, the article notes that Carlin suffered arrest not once, but multiple times for performing the bit. Long story short, the controversy came to a head in 1978 in the Supreme Court. The Atlantic summed up the outcome as follows: “The Court ruled that because Carlin's routine was broadcast on the radio, during the day, it did not have as much First Amendment protection. The Court saw Carlin's language as an invasion of privacy against listeners without warning. The FCC could regulate offensive content on broadcasts between 6 a.m. and 10 p.m., the Court said, because a child could accidentally be exposed to harmful profanity.”

Stories like this affirm that perhaps generations past were not, in fact, the golden age of comedy that some so yearn for. This iconic bit stood the test of time, in that Carlin recycled it in more than one special, transcending the 70s and running strong into the 80s, bringing me to his third special.

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The 1980s I started off the next decade of Carlin’s career with 1983’s Carlin at Carnegie. At this point, the comedian began to up his game, delivering new material while simultaneously taking previous themes and jokes to the next level. While some could call out this repetition as simply laziness, I see it as a certain kind of maturity, a desire to rework and perfect material in order to deliver the best possible joke. The meta humor was back (and would prove a running theme), as he opened by announcing, “Hello, my name is George Carlin, and I am a professional comedian. As opposed to the kind you see at work all day long.” Later, he delves into the same contextual self-awareness so on display early in his career: “As it stands right now, I lead Richard Pryor in heart attacks, two to one.” Carlin exhibits an incredible understanding of the audience’s desires in that his viewers are comedy fans, and he indulges them in their love of the medium, inviting them into his world. The comedy of comedy is not the only subject to make a reappearance. As previously stated, “Seven Dirty Words” is back and longer than ever. In fact, the list of words has been reconsidered, and Carlin offers us a list of words not quite as dense, but still equally as unacceptable. A running inventory of dirty words and euphemisms can be heard throughout the entirety of the end credits, the last of which is “yodelling in the gully.”

So yeah, Carlin really went to work compiling the ultimate list of offensive language. Even after that moving ending, I was not done with the 80s: 1986’s Playing with Your Head was next, offering a very different tone from the start. The opening sequences of stand-up specials offer a very unique opportunity for an artist to make a statement. Many comedians, like Louis CK, opt for a basic sequence of themselves preparing for the show, walking to the club, setting the scene. Others, however, are more creative: John Mulaney’s New in Town (2012) opens with a theme song and montage combo placing Mulaney as the incompetent central character of a 90s-esque sitcom. In Playing with Your Head, Carlin begins with a short clip in film noir-style called “The Envelope,” in which he must protect his writing from a group of goons.

The effect of the opening is twofold: first, the ambiguity of his character, created by the blending of the journalist protagonist so popular in film noir and the audience’s perception of Carlin as a comedian, asserts that, perhaps, his comedy also functions as a form of journalism. Secondly, towards the end of the segment, when he comes face to face with the goons, he declares that they “wouldn’t know what to do with it

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anyway,” exhibiting a strong self-awareness of his own place within the world of comedy. At first, “The Envelope” seems like an odd but charming opening to a comedian whose persona is built on brash anger, but ultimately it serves as a showcase for his ability to insert a level of high intelligence into humor that, taken at face value, seems simple.

Ultimately, it was this keen intelligence that established Carlin as an almost contemporary philosopher in the eyes of many Americans.

The 1990s I first witnessed the comedian’s iconic incarnation so ingrained in pop culture with 1992’s Jammin’ in New York. Dressed all in black, long, grey hair in a ponytail, balding a bit on the top, a small grey beard: this wasn’t George Carlin . . . this was George Carlin! Although I felt a nearly imperceptible subduing of his overall delivery, most of the early Carlin remained: the craziness in facial expressions and movement, the fascination with the English language, especially subtle fuck-ups and discrepancies in the English language. One bit included ripping apart the language involved with flying and airports: “About this time, someone’s telling you get on the plane. ‘Get on the plane, get on the plane.’ I say, ‘F--k you I’m getting in the plane. IN the plane! Let Evel Knievel get ON the plane!’”

It’s almost impossible to During the airport segment, I noticed a certain brilliance in relate any given Carlin joke Carlin’s construction of his without wanting to recite humor: he managed to create the whole larger eight or larger, running bits out of smaller bits and jokes.

It’s ten minute segment. almost impossible to relate any given Carlin joke without wanting to recite the whole larger eight or ten minute segment. Such construction is particularly effective in his rants on society, which Carlin brought to new levels in the 90s.

“F--k everybody now that I think about it.”

The 90s saw an exponential increase in Carlin’s antiestablishment voice. He had always been a harsh critic of American society, and furthermore he had always voiced these concerns with a loud chorus of “f--k you,” but both intensified in the 90s. Each of the three specials I watched from the decade, Jammin’ in New York (1992), Back in Town (1996), and You Are All Diseased (1999) exhibited a different

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facet of some of Carlin’s most heated material. For Jammin’, he voiced his hatred towards the American system as a whole, declaring, “I enjoy chaos and disorder, not just because they help me professionally. It’s also my hobby.” Back in Town attacked the baby boomer generation (“Whiny, narcissistic, self-indulgent people with the simple philosophy: ‘Give me it, it’s mine!’”), in addition to commentary on abortion and religion (“The sanctity of life doesn’t seem to apply to cancer cells, does it?”), the latter of which would become one of the most powerful topics in Carlin’s arsenal.

“Now, you talk about a good bullshit story, ho-ly shit.”

While he had been criticizing Christianity from the beginning, it had remained rather tame. You Are All Diseased brought his atheism full force, front and center in one of the most classic Carlin statements: “You know who I pray to? Joe Pesci.” When people cite George Carlin, they usually refer either to his work on the issue of profanity or his raging atheism. Most people have seen someone bashing religion before, but only a lucky few have seen George Carlin bashing religion. The difference: George Carlin is a master, which explains his rank as, ironically, almost a god among many atheists. Much of Carlin’s rants are extremely lucid and articulate— logical even. He even announces, “I want to tell you, when it comes to God, I really tried.” The last ten or so minutes of You Are All Diseased acts as a crescendo of atheistic passion, a mixing of valid argument with straight-for-the-jugular statements: “For those of you who look to the Bible for moral lessons and literary qualities, I might suggest a couple of other stories for you. You might want to look at “The Three Little Pigs,” that’s a good one, has a nice, happy ending, I’m sure you’ll like that.

Then there’s “Little Red Riding Hood,” although it does have that X-rated part where the Big Bad Wolf actually eats the grandmother; which, I didn’t care for, by the way. And finally, I’ve often always drawn a great deal of moral comfort from “Humpty Dumpty.” The part I like the best: ‘All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again.’ That’s because there is no Humpty Dumpty, and there is no God. None, not one, no God, never was.”

Carlin then ends the show by asking that if there is a God, “May he strike this audience dead.” He then “raise[s] the stakes. . . . If there is a God, strike me dead.” The special wraps up with a “Joe bless you” and

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the characteristic gratefulness on Carlin’s part, which is somewhat jarring, considering the hour of anger preceding it.

The 2000s Although it seems as if I had reached the peak of my Carlin education, I still had one left to go: 2008’s It’s Bad for Ya. This marks Carlin’s last HBO special, as the comedian passed away only a few months after its release. His age shows, and he knows it; many of his jokes revolve around his perception of the word at this stage in his life.

He announces that he is now 70, and declares that he is “An old f—k . . . .

It’s sort of like a fat f--k.” An understanding of mortality and its impending role exists in the darker points, which include highlighting the amount of time that elapses before a dead friend is crossed out of his address book. He also riffs on the benefits of old age, his ability to take advantage of people, and not take responsibility for anything.

Watching a Carlin special It reminded me of Louis CK’s is like listening to your observations on middle age and drunk, radical uncle growing older, and it’s easy to see how the current king of and slowly realizing comedy was directly influenced he’s actually something by the dead one.

Another of a genius. interesting turn is Carlin’s material on the Computer Age-a time which I am personally familiar with and can relate to. Even the bits on government, which rile up the audience so much to mimic an anti-George Bush rally, are clearly understood on my part. These jokes about technology are mixed with a whole host of other common Carlin threads: religion, politics, structure and establishment, the new generation and children. Overall, it runs the gamut of the comedian’s career and provides a solid close to the four decades documented in these HBO specials. Throughout the hour, Carlin repeatedly states, “It’s all bullshit, and it’s bad for ya,” a mantra that echoes as the essence of his humor and impact on the American consciousness.

Lasting Impression As canned as it sounds, the only real way to understand the legacy of George Carlin is to watch George Carlin. Given, his comedy is an acquired taste, and many people will take offense to much of it.

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Watching a Carlin special is like listening to your drunk, radical uncle and slowly realizing he’s actually something of a genius. Few people have produced such potent commentary on American society, all the while exhibiting an unparalleled command of the English language and maintaining an abrasive charm. In fact, I assert that it was the use of comedy as an avenue that made such commentary possible, and furthermore, brilliant. George Carlin operated as a modern philosopher who enlightened the country through one of the most basic human functions: laughter.

[Editor’s note: The dirty words in question have been redacted from Lauren’s essay in the interests of our more sensitive readers (and on the advice of our legal counsel!). If you are interested in knowing them just conduct an Internet search for “seven dirty words.”]

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A RIVER RUNS THROUGH ME Irina Kopyeva Junior Hudson, Ohio

I never thought I’d watch someone drown . . . well, at least, nearly. Perched on a rock, with the pins and needles still pricking my toes after swimming out of my kayak on the last run, I sat poised to take pictures of my dad running Baby Falls, the fifteen-foot drop on the Tellico River. My breath hung around me in clouds as I sat shivering in the frigid November air. Suddenly, the group appeared—a man we had met just hours earlier was leading my father down. He was a local who knew the river’s every twist and bend, and we trusted him to show us the way amidst the frothing white mess of waves and hydraulics, interspersed with boulders. He paddled confidently, blissfully unaware that his home river could turn so drastically against him.

All of a sudden, in the calm above the falls, he stopped in a precarious position, rolled over to one side, his paddle moving back and forth to keep him afloat. Dead silence. Everyone watched in utter confusion—no one could figure out why he hadn’t completely righted himself already.

Luckily, I’ve grown up kayaking— another man jumped in to see what the matter was and it’s an integral part of me. discovered that our group The river courses through leader was hooked on a hidden my veins, bringing log that had wedged itself between his legs. With shouts sustenance to my and splashes filling the silence, appetite for adventure. the kayaking community sprang to life, everyone scurrying to However, it hasn’t help out in some way or always been like this. another. After an hour or so, he emerged, pale, shaking, and humbled by the raw power of nature. Black Friday suddenly seemed more sinister than a day of compulsive shopping, but had no one stepped in, the day would’ve truly fulfilled its new connotation. As my father climbed out on the bank, he shook his head, “You never know who you’re going to have to trust to save you from death.”

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I’ve grown up kayaking—it’s an integral part of me. The river courses through my veins, bringing sustenance to my appetite for adventure. However, it hasn’t always been like this. The first time my dad forced me onto a rubber inflatable of doom and sent me The kayaking world down the raging Middle Yough holds out its open arms at age seven, I bawled the entire to everyone and takes way down because I was so terrified of flipping over into the them under its motherly glacial water. At the end, I wing. We may come sprinted from the raft in a from different places blubbering mess, convinced that I would never again repeat the and different walks of experience. Little did I know life, but on the water, that by the next year my dad would squeezed me into an even we look out for everyone, smaller, more unstable, singlefor we all comprise one person kayak. Paddling behind fun-loving, multi-cultural, him, I wove through the imposing and terrifying rock adrenaline-seeking family, gardens (all the while screaming bound together by the for help, both in Russian and in immense beauty of our English) in my incandescent orange boat, anxiously trailing watery surroundings and him by mere inches, to ensure our intense mutual that I would not miss a single turn, slot or eddy. Looking back love for the sport. now, as a seasoned kayaker, I scoff at the miniscule features that once seemed so petrifying, but at the time this river seemed so wide, wild and wrathful.

As I progressed to the Lower Yough, my father, now not entirely comfortable with the river himself, gave up his guidance to others, usually complete strangers we met in the boaters’ parking lot. The waves grew higher and the potential consequences—worse. Not being able to right myself up after being flipped over resulted in numerous swims and countless rescues by people whose names I couldn’t remember a minute after shaking their hands. Others, seeing my struggles, offered to show me how properly to roll my kayak and spent hours with me, half-submerged in the icy water, explaining how exactly I needed to position my paddle and guiding me to the proper set-up. In

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the hands of a stranger, I never once doubted their instructions, nor their capabilities—they were my only lifeline while I was on the river.

Nowadays, having kayaked many more difficult and dangerous rivers, I still defer to others on the correct line or how precisely to execute a move. However, lately I have taken on the role of the trusted guide myself—now others occasionally depend on me to lead them down the initially treacherous rapids of my home waters, the dear Lower Yough. To me, the tame rapids now teem with previously hidden gems that without the help of others, I would have never found or come to savor. I relish sharing the river’s secrets with others, who, like I once was, are newcomers to the sport. The kayaking world holds out its open arms to everyone and takes them under its motherly wing. We may come from different places and different walks of life, but on the water, we look out for everyone, for we all comprise one fun-loving, multicultural, adrenaline-seeking family, bound together by the immense beauty of our watery surroundings and our intense mutual love for the sport.

Kayaking is full of stories of daring rescues and near misses, like the one I witnessed. Yet, it is also rife with tragic endings. It’s a dangerous sport that requires skill, passion, and a whole lot of guts, but one that fosters camaraderie. Whether your buddy is floating towards the lip of a 70 foot waterfall, or he’s disappeared into the white, ravenous froth of a monstrous hydraulic, you’re in it together until the very end.

From the moment any of us put onto the river, we put our faith into our group, that they will do everything in their power to ensure everyone’s safety. One person and a simple rope could mean the difference between life and death.

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A CHAMPION DEFEATED Brett Kramer Junior Hudson, Ohio

Finally, my opportunity had arrived. Fifteen minutes before the scheduled game time, I was stretching on the pool deck, mentally preparing myself for the upcoming task I had been anticipating for hours. I was well-rested, well-practiced, and excited for my upcoming chance to shock the world.

No, I was not stepping up to the line in the Olympic 100m dash. Nor was I walking onto the pitch for the World Cup Final. Rather, I was preparing for the teen ping-pong tournament aboard At this moment, I received the Costa Luminosa cruise the first glimpse of my ship. Why was I so motivated?

First off, I was the only opponent. I almost broke American aboard a ship filled out laughing as I saw a 13with Europeans. I believed I year old girl from Helsinki, had a lesson to teach these teenage ping-pong players Finland approaching the about how table tennis is played opposite side of the in the United States. And I was table. This was my definitely qualified to do just that. opponent?! A 13-year old In fact, I was the 8-time girl?! The referee got out a reigning ping-pong champion of my immediate family. I felt ball, and I was still holding unstoppable, as I consistently back a laugh as the game beat my family members and was about to begin. But, friends by scores of 21-2 or 213. Needless to say, I considered what happened next myself the sure winner of the surprised everyone, $50 prize as I signed my name not the least me. up for the Costa Luminosa tournament.

It was 7:55, five minutes before my match, and I was ready at my end of the table. The referee was already standing by the net, and the

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twenty or so spectators seemed rather bored standing near the table. However, I knew I would have them cheering in about five minutes. At this moment, I received the first glimpse of my opponent. I almost broke out laughing as I saw a 13-year old girl from Helsinki, Finland approaching the opposite side of the table. This was my opponent?! A 13-year old girl?! The referee got out a ball, and I was still holding back a laugh as the game was about to begin. But, what happened next surprised everyone, not the least me. This Finnish girl whipped out of her Powerpuff Girls purse a cased ping-pong paddle, two arm bands, and a headband. I was a little surprised, but still quite confident that victory was surely mine.

However, that confidence quickly disappeared as her first serve had me on the ground. Barely seeing the ball, I swung a forehand to the right. However, the serve was to my left. It went behind my back, and I missed the ball by an embarrassing 2 feet. But, I wasn’t done. I got up, said to myself, “I am the champion,� and got ready for the next serve. The same result occurred again. Then again, and again, and again. Five minutes later, the score was 21-0. I was breathing hard, and I was sweating from head to toe. Looking at this innocent girl, I felt disgusted at myself as my glory had not only been taken away, but stomped on . . . by a 13-year old! Slowly, I began the walk back to my cabin, with my head down, humiliated and ashamed. Indeed, I was a champion; but I was a former champion brought down to his knees by an 8th grader with a Powerpuff Girls purse.

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MEMOIR OF AN ABYSMAL ATHLETE Trevor Levin Junior Hudson, Ohio

Plato wrote that one could achieve arete, the Greek concept of excellence and virtue, through three areas: knowledge, music, and athletics. Modern suburban parents, ever-conscious of ancient Greek philosophy, thus sign their children up for myriad lessons and teams, and the less fortunate among them spend large portions of their days shuttling multiple children between various activities. The view for much of my early youth was from the rear of an old blue Honda Odyssey, trekking down a highway, on the way to a piano lesson or little league baseball game. But while I latched onto the piano, and later guitar, fairly easily, when I turned my energies to athletics I met with nothing but difficulty and frustration. I revealed ineptitude across the board—in baseball, basketball, tennis, and hockey. In high school I have even tried football and cross country, but I have yet to find the sport for me.

Before you, dear reader, assume that these failures resulted from a lack of long-term commitment, hear me out: I played baseball every summer for ten years and joined multiple basketball leagues. I took tennis lessons, lifted weekly with the football team, and ran eighty miles before cross country season. Having long accepted that I would never be a starting pitcher or a top runner, I once supposed that if I worked hard to hone my craft, I might at least be a useful backup. But eventually I had to confront the reality that I didn’t have a knack for any of these physical pursuits.

One afternoon last November, my school held a Fall Athletic Awards ceremony to recognize those student athletes who had displayed the skill, sacrifice, and focus necessary to excel in a sport (lest the heretofore tone of my essay mislead you, I say this wholly unironically). Having no expectation of winning such an award at this or any other similar ceremony, my mind wandered to the idea of trying to pick a sport in which I might be to reach the varsity level. Cross country? I was too innately slow and stocky. Baseball, perhaps, the sport of my childhood? My skills, unimpressive at their height, had deteriorated significantly from my sophomore-year hiatus, and I was

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running out of time to turn them around. I could find no answer during the interminable ceremony and left dissatisfied.

Weeks later, during Thanksgiving Break, my athleticallyinclined younger brother, Frank, dragged me along to the gym and persuaded me to play basketball with him. We shot around for a while, and then a large, graying forty-something who had been instructing his preteen kids on the mechanics and strategy of basketball—a “SuperDad”, as Frank had termed his particular breed—asked if we wanted to play a game. Frank enthusiastically agreed, and I passively consented. For most of the game, I completely avoided taking a shot; my passing is subpar, but my shot is unqualifiedly horrible. Gradually, though, the other team realized that I was no threat and stopped covering me closely, anticipating that I would always pass.

After twenty minutes of running around the court, guarding and being guarded by a nine-year-old half my size, I found myself open, ten feet from the basket. SuperDad threw a flawless pass. Knowing that not shooting would be preposterous, even embarrassing, I took aim and released, completely unguarded. The ball flew through the air and touched neither rim nor net nor backboard. It fell, unimpeded, out of bounds—an airball, on perhaps the easiest shot ever taken during a game of basketball, amateur or professional. I should have been ashamed.

But I wasn’t.

Any expectation of excellence (or Having long accepted that even the slightest respectability) I would never be a starting that I had built up for myself pitcher or a top runner, I over the years of musical and academic achievement failed to once supposed that if I make me feel bad for this most worked hard to hone my spectacular of failures. At that moment, I realized that many craft, I might at least be a people who would have made useful backup. But that shot with ease—a group eventually I had to that, to be clear, includes millions and millions of confront the reality that I people—cannot play guitar. didn’t have a knack for any Many of them have never acted of these physical pursuits. in a play, sung in a choir, or submitted an essay to a publication—and that doesn’t make them less respectable. They may have achieved arete in a way I never could have. But I finally realized

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that I didn’t need to do well in a single athletic activity to be a healthy or well-rounded human being. Sports may simply be the role that I have been forever type-cast out of.

I finished the game, exhausted, with two points, which I scored on a near-accident, and felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. A pressure, not from my parents or peers, but from myself, induced by a sports-crazed society—a pressure that had given me anxiety and frustration for my entire life—did not need to exist.

Excellence comes in countless forms. Yet when we fail in anything—when a star athlete fails a math test, when the next McCartney disappoints on an SAT, or when a future Nobel Prize laureate finishes last in a 5K—we feel ashamed. We feel as though if we don’t attain some level of success, our pursuit of arete is useless, a waste of time. But while balance is important in every life (and life without exercise may not be very long), so is a realistic sense of self. Despite all my efforts and false hope, I will never be a competitive athlete, but I no longer let that bother me—and I shouldn’t have to.

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WHAT REALLY GOES ON BEHIND THE SCENES Anna McMurchy Junior Aurora, Ohio

Settled comfortably with your mostly-devoured-during-thetrailers popcorn clutched in one buttery hand, you gaze with wonder at the phenomenon unfolding before you. Celebrities, larger than life, stride across the vast screen. Your malleable mind wraps around the plot seamlessly, yearning to escape reality, if only for a little while. But wait a minute. What’s that? That, right there, in the background towards the left. Is that your buddy from high school? What on earth is he doing in a movie? Even though it’s only for half a second, he’s standing right behind Robert Downey Jr.! This can’t be possible. And what’s that room everyone’s standing in? Oh my gosh! That’s your former next door neighbor’s house. These tiny details leave your mind reeling as you recognize that films are made with ordinary people in actual places here on earth. Movies may seem like some kind of farfetched wonderland, but in reality, it’s often the meticulously planned, every-day details that can truly make a film incredible.

Extras, Extras! Read All About Them!

When we first think of movies, we tend to immediately picture the famous actors and actresses who play the main roles. A few film enthusiasts may additionally know the names of the truly great directors and producers. But there are other people quietly going about the unglamorous business of making movies believable. They fill the background of crowded scenes and provide indistinct muttering when necessary. Maybe one or two lucky individuals will get to deliver a short line. They are the extras.

Extras exist to set the scene, like a kind of human prop. They represent canvases meant to be slathered with make-up, tossed this way and that, and set in exactly the right position. Mihal Freinquel, an extras casting director, says, “Like lighting or wardrobe or location, extras inform how viewers interpret a scene they didn’t even know they were interpreting.” No matter how good your lead actor is, they can’t simply stand alone on an empty street if the scene calls for massive crowds.

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Without extras, the viewer’s judgment and understanding of a scene changes completely. If the actors perform a scene in which they’re playing in the Super Bowl, they need people to fill the stands. A high school student named Madeline tells us about her experience being an extra for the Nickelodeon original movie, Fun Size: “I submitted a short resume about myself. Then they called me a few weeks later, saying, ‘We’d like to use you; please be at this location at this time.’ I sat in a middle school cafeteria from about 1:00 to 9:00 p.m. We were all supposed to wear Halloween costumes. I wore a red dress and went as a doll.

Finally, they took us on a school bus to a neighborhood, where they handed out props and split us up into groups. Then they told us in which direction to walk. They paired me with this random little girl, and I was supposed to hold her hand. As Victoria Justice came up to the house where we were, we had to walk past her. We did this at least twenty times. We just kept walking and walking.”

Madeline goes on to say to that everyone stayed there all through the night. A few more scenes were filmed, in which Madeline strolled in a continuous loop around the block. At last, they finished filming at approximately 7:00 the next morning. For her hard work, she came away with $120 and an unforgettable experience. “My favorite part was the feeling of being on set. It was really cool to meet Victoria Justice. With everyone wearing costumes and making sure their hair and makeup was good, you felt like you were in a movie. Well, I mean, we were!” However, not all extras experience the “special treatment” of having their appearances fussed over until they look exactly right.

Without having to fill out any forms, sometimes everyday people just get thrown into the scene.

Another high school student, Valerie, simply read online that a big movie, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, was filming in downtown Cleveland, so she went to check it out: “My experience was really unorganized. [My sister and I] went down there, and there were so many roads blocked off that people had trouble getting to work. It was a scene where everyone in the city is just running, and Captain America is fighting a battle. Tons and tons of people were standing around, wanting to be in the scene. So we just said [to each other], ‘Let’s go; let’s be in it.’ And then this guy just told us where to stand amid the different sections of people. When the [producers] said, ‘Go!’, you literally just had to run. And scream. We did it

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so many times. I don’t even know how many. Just act scared and run.”

The extras in this crowd received mere milliseconds of screen time and no money, but they jumped at the chance to contribute. With their passionate running and screaming, they set the atmosphere for a (presumably) epic battle scene. “From a distance, I could see Chris Evans in his costume with his big shield, as he acted out a fight,” Valerie says. She adds that the best part of her short experience was “just being a part of something so big.” When extras fill their small roles, they do their share to make the larger project successful.

One Household, in Fair Cleveland, Where We Lay Our Scene In addition to people who fill in the empty space behind the main actors, movie producers must always find the perfect place for the cast to inhabit and express their talent. The spot must be the ideal setting, composed of everything the movie makers believe necessary for the best possible atmosphere. The movie company sends out scouts to roam the globe in search of that one prime location. All criteria must be met. Let’s use the example of a house. First, the house must look like the kind of place the screenwriter’s setting calls for. Second, it is often important for the house to be in close proximity to other places where directors plan to film closely related scenes. A scout might find the perfect house in the middle of a desert, but if the very next part of the movie calls for the actors to walk down to the beach, that house will probably not be used. Third, it’s beneficial for the production companies to find a suitable place in an area that provides tax breaks for their work.

Fortunately for one Mr. Jim Herget, the setting scouts for Captain America: The Winter Soldier discovered that his fine manor home went above and beyond meeting these requirements.

These scouts contacted Mr. Herget, who speak with excitement about his agreement to use his home as part of the set for such an anticipated movie. “I signed a contract, allowing them to use my property for such and such an amount of time at such and such a price,” Herget says. Sometime after this, the whole production team began to arrive at his home.

Vans, busses, and trucks rolled into the

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neighborhood. People filled every room; the designers began picking apart his home and transforming it into a set. During the scene they planned to film there, Captain America comes to visit his long-lost girlfriend. Mr. Herget has been sworn to secrecy on the exact details of the yet-to-be-seen-in-theaters moment, but he does say, “They turned my dining room into a classy bedroom at a very high-end rest home. They took all of my furniture out and put it in the basement. The interior designers worked with the details, doing their thing.”

Even before he describes the arrival of the actors, Mr. Herget talks about all the other kinds of people pouring into his neighborhood.

Paparazzi set up little huts across the street, and in response to their arrival, police details and bodyguards appeared. A food truck would drive in everyday to feed all the workers. Curious civilians often stopped by to see what was going on. The man in charge of this whole operation brought his wife and son with him. More than 150 people crowded into Mr. Herget’s house, including the head screenwriter, the creative director, and the executive producer. “My whole living room looked like a massive space center,” he says. Then, finally, the actors arrived.

Chris Evans and Haley Atwell appeared, along with their photodoubles, in big, black SUVs. They shot from noon until 8:00 p.m. This scene only lasts three minutes in the final movie, but they ran the scene over and over again, just as Madeline and Valerie described earlier.

Whenever the main actors needed a break, their photo-doubles would take a turn running the lines, which allowed the director and producers to experience the scene from a different perspective. As the day dragged on, they had to watch the lighting and keep it consistent even as the sun went down. The police went so far as to block all traffic on the road that runs by the house.

Before the actors took off after their producers called, “Strike the set!”, Mr. Herget got a chance to talk to Chris Evans. “He’s an awful nice guy,” Herget says. “This guy, Chris Evans, you can’t imagine . . . These people are so good-looking in person, you can’t believe it.” One of Mr. Herget’s daughters came to share this incredible experience with him, where she met many of the people in charge of the filming. Mr. Herget comments that it’s “a tremendously involved process to make just a few

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minutes.” But he says that he would most certainly do it again, as he thoroughly enjoyed this opportunity.

So much goes into the process of movie making that we viewers never really get to see. Huge attention to detail plays a key part in every production. As Mihal Freinquel writes, “Extras casting has become a perfected science, an intricate system of classification.” So too has the search for the ideal location.

When the perfect details and dedicated workers come together, they can create true masterpieces that appear effortless on the surface.

People at all levels of the filmmaking hierarchy work in collaboration to transform the real world into a spectacle that can leave moviegoers in awe.

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ACCIDENT OF BIRTH Alena Nichols Senior Dhahran, Saudi Arabia

It was on one of our famous “Nichols Family Adventures” that I redefined my life. My dad insisted that we leave our comfortable, airconditioned hotel and see the real India that waited in the streets of New Delhi. The hotel, in his opinion, was not an authentic enough representation of India’s rich culture and history. He wanted his three “lazy” teenagers to abandon the poolside and dive into the real Indian experience. I squeezed into the backseat of the car beside my triplet brother and sister, and together we pulled out of the hotel gates. Upon leaving the hotel, we immediately found ourselves no longer on asphalt but rather a crowded dirt road. Stuck in traffic between a rickshaw and a donkey, my perception of the world changed.

It would have been too easy to travel to India and never look past the hotel window and see the world below. Men in suits bartered with men in turbans at a fruit market while bikes darted in and out of the stagnant traffic. A woman was holding a crying baby to Years later, I still remember my brother’s window while a my green-eyed girl. She is little boy tried to clean our front a constant reminder to windshield with a dirty rag.

Looking out my own window, I always be grateful for what became anchored to the scene I have and remember how outside. Green eyes. All I it could easily have been remember is a pair of green eyes framed by short black hair. A me on the side of the road. girl, no more than eight, was dancing as her younger sister played on a flat drum. For reasons unknown to me, I was completely fascinated with this child. I rolled down the window, letting the hot April air spill into the car, and gave the girl the few rupees I had. Our hands touched for a moment. She smiled and thanked me in Hindi. We were quickly pulled apart as traffic began to flow. She disappeared into the endless crowd of people, and I vanished behind a tinted window.

“Did anyone see that girl?” I asked, looking for some

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confirmation about what I just experienced. “She was incredible! So talented and so pretty!” What I really wanted to ask was what was she doing there on the side of the road. How did someone I was so humbled by end up in such a rough situation? What was I doing when I was eight? Not dancing for my next meal. I tried to explain to my family about the incredible girl and why we should turn around immediately and empty our wallets. To this my Dad said three words I will never forget: “Accident of Birth.” For some reason—be it God, fate, the stars— I had ended up one side of the car window and she on the other.

Years later, I still remember my green-eyed girl. She is a constant reminder to always be grateful for what I have and remember how it could easily have been me on the side of the road. My good fortune gives me an obligation to grab life by the shoulders and shake all I can from it. Especially at boarding school, where the world seems to end at the ivy-covered gate, it is easy to forget about tragedies far from home. I know, however, that these disasters are affecting people worldwide: a pair of brown eyes in Syria, or a pair of blue eyes in Russia.

Whenever I am upset over some superficial problem, I imagine my green-eyed girl, her eyes a shade darker as she looks at me and asks, “Really? This is what upsets you?” I try to keep my problems in perspective and live to the fullest degree. I cannot say for certain how much money I gave on that hot day; one dollar, one hundred; whatever the amount, I will forever be indebted to a young green-eyed girl in India, dancing for her next meal.

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IT’S A’ ME! MARIO!: A (LITERAL) LINK TO THE PLAYER Simon Ong Junior Hudson, Ohio

“Shoot and kill Bill Williamson or leave him to die.”

I was puzzled for a moment as I tried to comprehend what it was telling me. It was giving me a choice to either kill my former outlaw friend or leave him to die. Either way he was to perish for his crimes, but I was being given the choice as to how. I analyzed his body, crumpled on the ground. It was clear his wounds were fatal, but we used to be friends. What obligation did I hold to him? I waited for a moment as the white words faded from the screen. Once they were gone, I pointed my gun, shot him in the chest, and waited as my game saved, processing my decision.

Many don’t realize it, but the ideal video game protagonist and the ideal film protagonist are generally polar opposites. The film protagonist is most efficient when there is a large amount of character development from the beginning to the end. The goal is to have the protagonist be a specific, unique character—distinct from his or her audience. The video game protagonist, on the other hand, is merely a blank canvas onto which a player can project his or her own personality and beliefs. The goal here is for the video game protagonist to simply serve as a tool by which a player can live vicariously as a different person from the beginning to the end of the story. Or at least this is what many have long thought.

For a long time in the 80s, 90s, and even into the early 2000s, video game producers felt that the most effective way to make a player bond with a protagonist was to keep said character incredibly vague.

Video game protagonists spoke little to no dialogue in a game, while the other characters with whom they interacted spoke extensively. The protagonist’s quite limited emotions were generally displayed only physically and never by forcing an obvious personality upon the player.

Nintendo’s Shigeru Miyamoto (creator of Mario and The Legend of Zelda) remains a champion of this model. None of the many protagonists he’s

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created have ever spoken extensively within a game, and he even named his famously laconic protagonist Link (hero of the Legend of Zelda series) in a silent nod to the notion that he was intended to be a “link” With the rising maturity between the player and the of the gaming community game. has come a growing desire But the times they are a’ changing.

This formerly for a more mature commonplace convention is storytelling experience for slowly being phased out. With game players. Slowly, but the rising maturity of the gaming community has come a surely, the demand is growing desire for a more building for the video mature storytelling experience for game players. Slowly, but game protagonist to surely, the demand is building become more and more like for the video game protagonist the typical film protagonist. to become more and more like the typical film protagonist.

Basic proof of this assertion can be found by looking at the way video games are now being advertised. In the past, video games were marketed mostly via footage of actual gameplay. Those watching an ad saw exactly what they would see if they were to play that game.

However, recently, marketers have made the transition to advertising a game by producing cinematic cut-scenes and animated movies created by professional animators. In other words, the player is no longer being enticed by the mere gameplay of a given title, rather they are being drawn in by visuals that are more about the plot of the game than the playing experience. This is all part of a growing shift in the way that video games are both presented and played. Even Nintendo, which has remained more firmly rooted in tradition than any other company, has taken steps in this direction. Nintendo games have started to contain more complex plots (though Nintendo still claims gameplay comes first), and protagonists such as Metroid’s, Samus Aran, have been given the power of speech for the first time in the last five years—though she is one of only a very small handful of characters in their stable to receive such an upgrade.

While it cannot be denied that there is a growing demand from the gamer community for this shift style, it remains unclear if this change has increased the effectiveness of the video game protagonist to enthrall the gamer and allow them to relate to their video avatar. It is possible, of

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course, that a player might prefer to have a protagonist which is blank, customizable, and thus more readily able to take on the player’s own opinions and beliefs. However, it is equally possible that more players would be captivated by protagonists who display a well-defined personality and show a certain amount of character development over the course of a game, even if these things do not in any way mirror the persona of the player.

To test this question, I recruited two volunteers: Test Subject A, a boy, and Test Subject B, a girl. Both had limited gaming experience— Subject B more than Subject A—but both at least knew how to handle a controller. For my experiment, I carefully selected four games which each subject played for roughly an hour, long enough, it was hoped, for a minor bond to form between player and protagonist. As they played through the game, I analyzed their reactions to things that happened to the protagonist and reactions to the supporting characters around them.

To select the four games I ranked my entire game library on a scale of one to four: (1) being a game where the protagonist displays absolutely no emotion and is even customizable, (2) being when the protagonist shows some emotion but very little else about their opinions or beliefs are revealed through dialogue, (3) being when the protagonist shows a substantial amount of personality, beliefs, and opinions, but other things like basic morality are more mysterious, and (4) being when there is a very linear plot with highly cinematic characters that go through a distinct pattern of character development and leave little about their personality unrevealed to the player. Upon reviewing my library, I selected a game which most perfectly fit the scale from each of the ranks detailed above and settled upon the following titles: Animal Crossing: City Folk (1), The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess (2), Red Dead Redemption (3), and Tomb Raider (4).

Animal Crossing: City Folk is a virtual reality, role-playing game for the Wii. It's designed around the idea of having no plot and simply letting the player explore his or her little town and customize everything about their character from its name to its lifestyle. With the lowest level of mandatory character development and the highest level of customization within the four games, I expected to see a high level of bonding between the Test Subjects and their avatars. Test Subject A got off to an interesting start, however, by naming his avatar not after himself but by the pseudonym “Xicub.” Despite a rocky start, it was clear that Subject A had quickly immersed himself in “Monrovia,” the name of the town he created. His interactions with the other characters extended beyond the screen as he vocally expressed his distaste of the

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solicitous Tanuki (Raccoon Dog) salesman, Tom Nook. Test Subject A's ability to spend ten minutes attempting to catch a grasshopper without first buying a butterfly net was a true testament to the fact this game allows for a tighter bond to form between player and protagonist.

However, while this level of connection was certainly apparent, it was also apparent that Subject A was not having the greatest time playing the game. It clearly did not live up to his expectations, and he said he would have preferred to play one of the other three games selected. The same can be said for Test Subject B. Subject B also elected for some detachment and chose to name her avatar “Jennifer.” Subject B also seemed to have a hard time enjoying the game. While she appeared immersed, by virtue of the fact that she viewed the avatar as herself, she clearly did not understand the point of the game (of course, there really is no point) and, like Subject A, disliked the admittedly annoying characters that populate the game. However, it is important to note that both Test Subjects referred to their respective avatars as “I” and they each demonstrated personal frustration with the characters and scenarios around them. While not necessarily having a great deal of fun, they were clearly immersed.

The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess is the twelfth installment in the Legend of Zelda series. It is admired by many fans for its gritty and realistic art-style, which deviated from earlier installments in the series.

It was chosen over other entries in the series due to its vast scope and higher emphasis on plot—without placing any extra restrictive details on the character of Link, who remains more or less an empty shell into which a player pour their own personality. Once again, Test Subject A took the liberty of renaming Link as “Xycub.” (This time, for some reason, spelled with a “Y”.) I clinched my teeth as I watched him do this—as any hardcore Zelda gamer knows that you are never, never supposed to change Link's name. But for the purpose of discovery, I suffered silently. However, once again Subject A proved that he could immerse himself in a game. He openly and vocally displayed a concern for his protagonist's well-being and when faced with the moral dilemma of having to hand over his sword to a child (a necessary, though clearly irresponsible, action for the advancement of the game), he had a difficult time doing it. With Twilight Princess, Subject B’s obvious lack of gaming experience revealed itself, as Zelda is a mix between a puzzle and an action game and often times these puzzles require a bit of experience, and patience, to figure out. Subject B spent most of her allotted time stuck in Ordon Village, the first location in the game—not even half as far as Subject A had advanced in the same amount of time. However,

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this did not stop her from seemingly bonding with Link (whom she did, happily, name Link). Once again both players referred to Link as “I” and both players, at one point or another, revealed a sense of moral connection to that character—as, for instance, when Subject B shows no desire to attack a Cucco (a species of Hyrulean chicken) even though a man said he would pay Link some money to do it. This proves that, to some extent, having a blank slate allows some moral values to be projected onto the protagonist. However, such a hypothesis soon faced new challenges.

Red Dead Redemption, published by the studio that created Grand Theft Auto, was heralded as a masterpiece when it was first released in 2009 and remains thought of as one of the best games ever released for the Xbox 360. Like Grand Theft Auto, Red Dead Redemption, set in the Wild West rather than a modern city, gained attention for raising questions about its inherent morality as well as its level of violence. The protagonist, ex-gang member, John Marston, is on a mission to take down his former gang and rescue his family from the control of a corrupt government forcing him on this crusade. While no blank slate, Marston still gives the player an opportunity to display his or her own moral beliefs. Interestingly, while Test When immersed in the Subject A displayed a hesitancy to go through with acts that felt wild world of John irresponsible to him while Marston, Subject A found playing Twilight Princess, such himself with his gun moral integrity disappeared when Subject A was set down in literally pointed against front of Red Dead Redemption. the world. Trigger happy, When immersed in the wild world of John Marston, Subject and with a total disregard A found himself with his gun for the virtual lives at literally pointed against the stake, the first button world. Trigger happy, and with a total disregard for the virtual Subject A hit in the game lives at stake, the first button was the one that launched Subject A hit in the game was a bullet into the head of an the one that launched a bullet into the head of an innocent innocent civilian. civilian.

He proceeded to trample people with his carriage, enter into multiple shoot-outs with law enforcement, and punch a man in the jaw. He declared, “I’m just figuring out what the law is,” as he pulled out his gun and shot a

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prostitute in the face. Finally, Subject A showed more restraint when he pointed his gun at a dog and then slowly dropped it, saying, “I’m learning.” However, such good behavior ended rather quickly when, having failed in his mission, he returned and killed the dog anyway.

Furthermore, Subject B, while not nearly as quick on the trigger as Subject A, clearly showed a degree of capability with a gun and some shooting prowess as she shot and killed nine coyotes (compared to only five for Subject A). She wasn’t eager to do it, but she showed little hesitation once the mission required it. While none of his own personal moral beliefs were replicated in the game, Subject A did see a bit of his personality rub off on Marston, as Subject A, a very competitive person, put all of his effort into winning a race the player is not intended to win.

For this reason, Subject A referred to Marston as “I” in the game while Subject B, who had a more immediate distaste for Marston, notably did not. This begins to show a trend of gradual detachment from the characters.

The recently released Tomb Raider was marketed as the reboot to the franchise which was to bring a more realistic tone to the series. The protagonist, explorer and anthropologist Lara Croft, would have more human emotions, believable character development, and (to the disappointment, no doubt, of many male players) smaller, more realistic breasts. Test Subject A, while thoroughly enjoying the game, was clearly detached from Lara. Lara was always referred to as “she” rather than “I” and he would speak about her as if she were another person in the room. Similarly, Test Subject B went further and even questioned many of the choices that Lara made and had a hard time agreeing with Lara’s morality (as, for instance, when she had a difficult time graphically killing a deer for the purpose of survival). While there was a much clearer detachment from Lara than there was from the other protagonists, this did not affect either Subject’s enjoyment of the game, suggesting that player-immersion is not directly proportional to the pleasure received during gameplay.

This new discovery allowed me to come to the conclusion that a player will not see a completely blank slate and imprint themselves on it, regardless of their moral beliefs. They will instead see an archetype for a character, such as the archetype of the brave hero in Twilight Princess or that of the not-so-law-abiding antihero desperado in Red Dead Redemption. Seeing this archetype, the player will not reflect their own personality but instead reflect their perception of that type of character.

In other words, the player is attempting to fulfill a role. This is most easily seen in Test Subject A’s transition from Twilight Princess to Red

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Dead Redemption. We see the player, in the first instance, struggling to commit a very small act he perceives as irresponsible while attempting to play the role of a hero, while in the next setting we see the same person shoot up an entire town when vicariously living the life of a desperado.

However, this leaves the extremes of the scale out of consideration. What of the first and fourth category of games? Certainly down in the first, with Animal Crossing, there was a strong degree of immersion but a lower level of entertainment. Perhaps this was just a function of the particular game I had selected, but I believe that a player actually desires at least some amount of character definition for the protagonist so that they may have that role to fill. On the flip side of the coin, we have Tomb Raider, where there was a lack of immersion while the entertainment was just as strong as ever. At a certain point, and I believe this is the case for Tomb Raider, playing a game with a welldefined plot, a good deal of mandatory character development, and heavy use of cinematic cutscenes begins to feel like a movie. Slowly the character becomes less of a video game protagonist and more of a film protagonist. Unfortunately, if the audience (whether they be a player or viewer) has a difficult time relating to this character it will greatly affect their immersion in the story and perhaps the entertainment they derive out of it.

While I’ve come to the conclusion that giving the player neither a blank slate nor a fully fleshed-out character but rather an archetype is ideal for the best experience possible in a game, the video game industry is changing, and it is more than likely that this may change in the next generation of video games. Already games such as the new Beyond: Two Souls are experimenting with the idea of blending the two types of games—creating a game that has cinematic cutscenes and a high level of character development but also allows the player to choose everything that the protagonist does, resulting in a different experience for each new player and various alternate endings depending on the different paths a player takes. Video game designers are constantly being challenged to create a more immersive experience, and with blooming technological advancements on the horizon there is no limit to what can be done in the future to make the player feel a part of the game.

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EXPECTATIONS Monica Petras Senior West Mount, Quebec

Over-expectation. In the world of a teenage girl, expectation marks the often blurry line between imagination and reality. Let’s face it, what we expect may not always be, well, realistic. For example, a typical parent might expect that their child will establish a career before settling down, whereas a typical teenage girl could receive one text from her crush and instantly imagine that they're meant to be in some cosmic, it-was-fate scenario. Maybe he was just being friendly, and the text doesn’t mean anything? No, shut up! He loves me! Naturally, such eruptions of joy are swept easily away if said crush doesn’t text I’m not sure if it’s just me, back within ninety seconds. or if all teenage girls are Expectations, especially those of the typical teenage girl, rarely similarly susceptible, but end the way that we plan, often I can get lost in a because what we build up in our world of fantasy heads oftentimes does not translate into the real world. expectations. I’m sure it’s Many times they may not even partly due to all of the be logical, let alone realistic. romance literature I read.

How many times have I, myself, imagined a scenario working out in my favor, only to have the real world send a denial that has me free-falling onto my butt? The answer: way too many times.

I’ve known now from a very young age not to trust my expectations because, being the super klutz that I am, I know reality (and gravity) is one tough opponent. Yet, I cannot help, teenage girl that I am, living in my alternate-reality, fantasy world at times. It’s the place where all my funny lines are appreciated, my bizarre tendencies overlooked, and the male attention I seek generously bestowed. I guess the fact that I’ve built up this whole alternate world makes it kind of difficult for my expectations to match up with reality.

Here’s an everyday example of my expectations getting the best of me. Last year, I was sitting in a row of bleacher seats watching a

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robotics match with my friend when someone of the opposite gender came up and sat next to me. [This, by the way, is just another example as to how my participation in robotics was one of the strangest experiences of my life. I came into it completely expecting to be surrounded by nothing but a bunch of nerdy prepubescent boys. Never in my life did I suspect that other girls, as well as some highly attractive people, pursued this pastime as well. Anyway, I digress.] Of course, my imagination immediately ran wild with all the possibilities of what this boy might say or do: SCENE: (Boy sits next to Monica) Boy: Hey there Monica: Oh hey, I didn’t see you there.

Boy: I know. (flips hair) Listen I’ve been watching you, and from just ten seconds looking into your eyes, I can tell you’re my soul mate.

Monica: Oh really?! (ecstatic) Boy: Yes, will you marry me?

Monica: Oh, my hero!

CURTAINS CLOSE Obviously, this didn’t happen. My delusional expectations did not reflect even a modicum of reality. As it turns out; the boy was simply trying to find his friends—quite a far cry from my anticipated marriage proposal. Though I have lived through numerous such situations—almost all of them propelling me into imagining my Prince Charming down on one knee—the inevitable cold splash of reality never seems permanently to alter my propensity to produce unrealistic fantasies in my mind. If the same scenario were to unfold again, I’m sure I would continue to expect the same fantastic result. I’m not sure if it’s just me, or if all teenage girls are similarly susceptible, but often I can get lost in a world of fantasy expectations. I’m sure it’s partly due to all of the romance literature I read. Over time, all those characters build up in your mind and morph together into the hypothetical “perfect man.”

This man is strong yet sensitive, classy yet casual, handsome yet unaware of this fact, protective and dominating yet liberating and encouraging. This perfect man has been created having all the positive characteristics a girl could ever want and none of the negative ones. This perfect man, of course, is a highly inaccurate depiction of any real guy.

Yet, these idealized visions become so ingrained in our subconscious that we (or at least I) begin to lose sight of reality. This is why the line

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between fiction and nonfiction is so hard to distinguish. These ingrained ideals are why I have seriously delusional expectations.

Although, if you think about it, isn’t that what everyone’s expectations are based upon? Even if we aren’t discussing our love lives, aren’t expectations the product of our minds reaching for and embracing only the positives while disregarding the negatives. Parents may wish for their children to be practical and focus first on establishing a sound careers, but what if all their children want to do is have a family or travel the world. Expectations are actually problematic when it comes to dealing with reality. They cause people to expect things that may very well not come to pass—or may not even be possible—and thus set people up for disappointment. Why must we build something up and expect something, when the end result is more often than not nothing?

Expectations are a mixture of perfected ideals that have stuck with us, and they don’t necessarily have much of a basis in reality . . . well, at least for a great many teenage girls they don’t. Does that mean that expectations can never be realized? As I think about my own Prince Charming, that may be the real question.

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A MERMAID’S TALE Sibel Sarac Senior Canfield, Ohio

When I was little I was obsessed with three movies: Aladdin, The Wizard of Oz, and The Little Mermaid. In fact, I was so obsessed with the latter two movies that I would actually refuse to go to sleep unless we watched them twice through—it goes without saying that my sister and my mom have not watched these movies willingly since then. However, as my fifth birthday rolled around, I narrowed my three favorite movies down to my one, all-time favorite movie, The Little Mermaid. Now, you may ask why I would choose After I started truly this movie instead of a movie where there are genies that believing I was a mermaid, come out of a bottle, carpets that I let everyone hear it: my fly, and tigers named Rajah; or friends, my family, even why I would not pick a movie where lions, scarecrows, and tin strangers on the street. men come alive in song and Anyone that would listen dance with the sole purpose of reaching Emerald City—a place would learn I was a where there is no need to pick mermaid one color for your horse because the horse continuously changes colors! But the answer, the answer to why I chose The Little Mermaid as my birthday party theme, is because all of these movies were lacking a single, mystical character that I have always longed, and will always long, to be—a mermaid.

I use to have horrible eczema. It was something that I was born with and something that the doctor described as “incurable.” Well, after years of excessively lotioning my body--per my mother’s request—one day the eczema finally just disappeared. Here is how it happened: It was a warm summer day and my parents had just become members at the country club down the road from our house. My mom came home later that night and informed me and my sister that we would be taking swim, golf, and tennis lessons every day because we had “too much energy.” The next day, at precisely 6:55 am, my nanny honked her horn three times, and my sister and I rushed out of the

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house. After that first summer day, my entire life changed—and when I say “my entire life” I mean my skin was no longer scaly, I no longer looked like an alligator, and kids no longer told me I looked “ashy”—a descriptor I did not understand. My mom was so ecstatic about my nolonger scaly skin that she immediately drove me to the doctor’s office to tell him that the water had cured my seemingly incurable eczema! He informed her that this was impossible because chlorine always makes skin dry and itchy, and at that my mom simply looked at me and said, “Not for my little mermaid.”

That was the beginning of the end for me—that was the day I stopped wishing I could be a mermaid and started believing I was one.

After I started truly believing I was a mermaid, I let everyone hear it: my friends, my family, even strangers on the street. Anyone that would listen would learn I was a mermaid. I often told them the story of my transformation: the story about how since the day I was born, until the day I took my first swimming lesson, I looked like a scaly, washedup fish. Strangers would often give me a confused look, not so much because a weird child was ranting about the mystical creatures commonly referred to as “Sirens,” but because at the age of five I spoke barely any English—since my nanny was Hungarian and my parents only spoke Turkish in the house. And even when I did speak English, I would mix in some Turkish and Hungarian words, so nobody ever really understood me. At the age of six, I began signing all birthday cards to my friends and family member as “mermaid Sibel.” On my seventh Halloween, I threw a temper tantrum about how I could not let my stomach show in my mermaid costume and then refused to trick-ortreat. By my eighth birthday, I had a mermaid-themed Barbie room.

When I turned thirteen, I locked myself in my room all da—running salt water over my legs—because in every Disney movie I had seen on the subject that was the age at which kids got their “secret powers.” When I turned sixteen, my only wish was to transform magically into a mermaid. And finally, as my eighteenth birthday sits around the corner, I have decided to have my birthday party at the annual Coney Island Mermaid Parade.

I am almost eighteen, and I still have four mermaid Barbies in my room (which I received as presents my junior and senior year), my dashboard mostly contains birthday cards that have mermaids pictured on them (including a mermaid princess sticker book with which I decorated my dorm room door this year), I still never leave the country without my mermaid skirt, and I always have my mermaid pillow on my bed. Do I truly believe that I am a mermaid? Yes and no. Deep down I

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know that I can never really become a mermaid, no matter how hard I try. But on another level, just below the surface of dry reality, I will always believe I am one. Crazy? Maybe. Obsessed? Most definitely.

But I don’t care. Growing up should not mean throwing away every childish thing we once believed in. I’ve always kept this small piece of my childhood with me, and I never plan on giving it up.

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POLITICS AS USUAL Graham Sell Sophomore Akron, Ohio

Increasingly, within the American political landscape, it is becoming more and more common for seemingly ignorant people to be put in positions of power. Our political system was designed to place the responsibility for making . . . since the process of decisions on behalf of the people into the hands of highlybecoming a politician qualified individuals capable of requires a great deal of representing the needs and money and the support of wants of the society as a whole.

But in recent times, our country the voting public, any has increasingly become led politician daring to say only by those individuals who something that the can convince the population via lies, or dupe us based on our majority of the people may sheer ignorance, that they are dislike would likely be the “Obvious Choice� for office.

No longer are they those who harming their career and are truly the smartest and most chances for re-election. fit to make tough decisions.

I recently watched Contact, a movie based on a book written by the famous astrophysicist, Carl Sagan. For those of you who haven’t seen the movie, or read the book, it presents a plausible scenario of what might take place were our society to be contacted by intelligent alien life.

The aliens of the story send a message that contains blueprints of a device that can teleport a single person to meet the aliens themselves.

However, this scientific endeavor is nearly shut down when a religious terrorist group destroys the device with a suicide bomb. Luckily, the scientists overcome this obstacle and end up reaching the alien civilization. Along the way to this conclusion, the main protagonist, a scientist who first discovered the aliens, is nearly prevented from being the first human chosen to visit the aliens because she is open about not believing in God. Another candidate for this honor, a corrupt politician, ultimately wins the favor of the masses by convincing them that he will

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“bring God to the aliens” and uses this to pressure decision-makers to support his candidacy.

This movie certainly made me think about many things, and I enthusiastically recommend it to all of you reading this. It is not uncommon for scientific endeavors to be shut down by general ignorance or ignorant politicians. A modern example of this would be the issue of stem cell research. Had religious organizations not protested this research—and had those politicians who would do anything to get re-elected not backed them—we might have been decades ahead in medical research from where we are now. Think of the lives that could have been saved had the tools been there to replace lost tissue, treat diabetes, and combat heart disease. This is not dissimilar to the denial of global climate change by politicians whose political campaigns are backed by the oil and coal industries that hope to sell as much of their product as possible before the wells dry up or mines empty out. Climate change is a real and pressing problem, but politicians would prefer to deny it publicly and get their bonus check from the fossil fuel industry rather than promote investment in renewable energy sources that could very well save the planet.

The movie Contact makes clear that the majority of our politicians make decisions only to gain popular support, not to improve the human condition. However, since the process of becoming a politician requires a great deal of money and the support of the voting public, any politician daring to say something that the majority of the people may dislike would likely be harming their career and chances for re-election. Stating a belief—or lack of belief—in various religions, taking a stance on highly controversial topics, or even suggesting that the last president/ governor/mayor did a good job, may immediately get him or her crossed off the list of viable candidates. This gives us a whole new breed of politician: The Career Politician. Being a career politician is essentially the only way to hold a meaningful public office now. A s Neil Degrasse Tyson famously quoted, “What profession do all these Senators and Congressmen have? Law, law, law, law, business man, law, law, law . . . Where are the scientists? Where are the engineers?” Our leaders, entrusted by the people to make rational and wise decisions, are unfortunately not the smartest people in the country. More likely, they are the rich and/or those who were willing to say anything and everything to get themselves elected.

The results of this absurd system are politicians who are flaunting or feigning their own ignorance. In the 2007 GOP Presidential Candidates Debate, when the MSNBC moderator asked a group of ten

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Republican candidates if any among them didn’t accept evolution, three raised their hands as if it were something of which to be proud. I would hope that in this day and age, 155 years after Charles Darwin published his book, On The Origin of Species, that evolution would be generally accepted by at least 90% of the American population and accepted by 100% of all the politicians running for office. It is absurd that even some of the people on the House of Representatives Committee for Science, Space, and Technology still believe that the universe is less than 10,000 years old. Anybody who is empowered to make decisions on the development of science should believe in it.

Under our current Under our current system system of government, too many of the people you see running of government, too many this country are not qualified to of the people you see lead us well. It is simply their wealth (or the wealth of rich running this country are backers) and their charisma not qualified to lead us which has placed them in well. It is simply their positions of power.

The academic backgrounds many of wealth (or the wealth of our leaders possess do not rich backers) and their provide them with the necessary knowledge and expertise to charisma which has placed respond to the challenges we them in positions of power. face in the modern world. Too The academic backgrounds many have politicians are convinced of the veracity of their many of our leaders positions without ever having possess do not provide subjected them to scrutiny. them with the necessary Many will buy or smooth talk their way into office without knowledge and expertise to possessing a genuine concern respond to the challenges about the welfare of the people they are leading. This system we face in the modern we have for electing our leaders world. seems broken, but in our country, it passes as normal. In our country, it is simply just politics as usual.

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AND THE CROWD GOES WILD Connor Semple Junior Hudson, Ohio

It’s five o’clock on a Monday afternoon.

Game time.

Anticipation and excitement for the upcoming contest envelopes the team. Weeks of preparation and practice, weight lifting and sprints have led up to this climactic moment of competition. However, as the team takes the field, something is missing from the scene: fans. How many times has this scenario unfolded across the years of sport at Western Reserve Academy?

I am not the first person to notice the meager spectator turnout at athletic events, as is evidenced by the attempts of former student body president Mitesh Mehta, ‘13 and Max Fausnight, ‘13 to energize the fan base last year.

The pair Many of my greatest implemented a cleverly conceived concept entitled, memories as a Pioneer “‘Neer Nation,” a point-system came either on the athletic based contest in which student attendance at athletic and social field or in the stands events was rewarded by the cheering for my classmates. only surefire motivator of If you cannot say the same, ravenous Reserve students: food. However, the plan soon I truly feel sorry for you. folded, as even the promise of dorm feeds and Swenson’s were not a strong enough temptation to lure the Reserve community from their dorms. The question remains: why are Reserve students so reluctant to show their school spirit at athletic events?

While it is true that WRA is an institution revered more for academic prowess than athletic dominance, our school nonetheless boasts a myriad of strong athletic programs. On January 21, 2014 the boys basketball team was victorious over Saint Thomas Aquinas, a school that would later go on to reach the state championship game in their division. The awesome skill of Gold Medal athlete and future Division I star, Nicky Waldeck, ’13, was on the display at the helm of the girls’ soccer, basketball, and lacrosse teams for four years. This year the

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hockey team captured the esteemed Baron Cup for the first time in years.

And who could forget the undefeated performance of our boys’ soccer team during the fall of 2012? Despite our status as a small school, Reserve’s student-athletes have done an admirable job at maintaining some thrilling athletic programs. Yet, many of these tremendous performances have occurred in front of largely empty bleachers.

This phenomenon is not exclusive to athletic events. Our school’s orchestra, band, and choir each feature an arsenal of brilliant, yet unheralded, performers. Everyone is familiar with the brilliance of concertmaster Ann Yu, ‘14, yet, many have never stopped by the Knight Fine Arts Center to attend a musical performance. “We spend more time rehearsing for orchestra on a weekly basis than I do practicing for sports, so it is admittedly somewhat disappointing when there aren’t a lot of people in the audience at our concerts,” said violinist Trevor Lin. “There’s a lot of talent in WRA’s music department that probably deserves more appreciation than it receives.”

It is obviously impossible for any one student to attend every single one of the 111 games, meets, and matches currently scheduled on the WRA athletics’ page for varsity spring sports alone. There is also no denying that the average Reserve student has more than their fair share of commitments on their hands: there is not a student among us who can say that they have not had to sacrifice some of the activities they used to enjoy in the name of polishing an essay or cramming for a history test.

However, this is my plea to the student body: let us not allow school spirit and appreciation for our fellow athletes and performers to be one of these pleasures slashed from our busy schedules. Many of my greatest memories as a Pioneer came either on the athletic field or in the stands cheering for my classmates. If you cannot say the same, I truly feel sorry for you. The sense of community that can be felt on those rare occasions that we do come together to support one another is one that I will retain long after I have graduated from this campus.

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FAMILY DINNER Selena Walsh Senior Tallmadge, Ohio

My eyes open, revealing a girl in a purple dress sitting on top of me smiling. Without offering an explanation, she greets me: “Hi Seena,” unable to pronounce the “l” in Selena. I get out of bed and follow her downstairs, saying nothing else as I’m not fully aware of my surroundings yet. Immediately, I know that my nap ran a bit too long because everyone is already here. I join the circle as we hold hands and sing our family prayer. We end the prayer with a deafening “Thank you, Mamaw!”

Thus begins our Mamaw says we have weekly, Sunday family dinner.

It has gone this way for dinner on Sundays because as long as I can remember. it’s the only day everyone Every Sunday, some forty of us gather at Mamaw Molly’s house. is free. However, I believe People arrive sometime between it’s Sundays so we can 5:00 and 5:30, but we always eat always start the week at 6:00 sharp.

It’s loud, cramped, and stressful. I always together. My grandmother finish last in the five meter taught her children to sprint to line up for food; thus, always put family first I’m stuck with the scraps my loving family has left. I am then because they are the exiled to the front porch, or the support system you build basement in the winter, when I realize there’s not a seat left for your life around. By me in the dining room. beginning the week with Although there seems to be a family, we’re starting with maximum age limit of eight years old, cousins Jenna and a solid foundation.

Laura welcome me to join them and share my opinions on the “Haylor” and “Jelena” break ups. After dinner, we congregate in the living room, and Uncle Mike, the policeman, competes with his wife, Aunt Jenny, a teacher, to find out who had the most interesting week. We then debate religion and politics

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until I lose track of how many times my uncles have repeated the same argument.

Mamaw says we have dinner on Sundays because it’s the only day everyone is free. However, I believe it’s Sundays so we can always start the week together. My grandmother taught her children to always put family first because they are the support system you build your life around. By beginning the week with family, we’re starting with a solid foundation. Amidst the chaos, we counsel each other with wisdom and laughter, releasing tensions built-up over the week. We leave recharged and high-spirited, ready to take on the week ahead.

Through these Sunday gatherings I’ve learned that everything in life depends on your perspective. For instance, the house isn’t “cramped,” it’s “snug,” and the never-ending noise is simply an opportunity for me to practice my listening skills. I now know that sixtyfive people in one room can give off enough heat to cause Aunt Mary Ellen to faint in the middle of winter, and I can successfully follow along with multiple conversations at once thanks to the competitive nature of Uncle Mike and Aunt Jenny. From our friendly debates I’ve learned we all have different views, but we share the same necessity to express them anyway. I’ve learned that not everyone will agree with my opinions, but sometimes, it is worth debating anyways—and sometimes it is not. I now appreciate being forced to eat with the younger girls because it has prepared me to adapt easily to changes and make the most of any situation. Finally, getting dinner last rocks because, in return, I am privileged to be the first grandchild to get dessert.

Because of my family, Sundays are my favorite day of the week; and because of our family dinners, my grandmother’s house is my favorite place in the world. Still, without my family, Sunday dinners are just another meal. Like all families, we have our faults—but with the bad comes the good. Although their arguments get old, Uncle Mike and Aunt Jenny watched the same long play three nights in a row because I had one spoken line. And when our whole house was struck with illness, Aunt Peggy moved in to take care of us.

Although overwhelming to some, there’s no way I’d rather spend a Sunday.

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MAKE THE BEST OF YOU Paige Warner Junior Hudson, Ohio

Have you ever been in that position where you can’t help but think about how an experience could be so much better, which really just ends up making the experience worse? In such a situation, you find that with each new desire you just become more miserable. The real question is: have you ever simply sat there, taking everything in, letting yourself go, and making it a memory, not a misery?

This past fall, in my junior year of high school, I found myself sitting on the bench managing the field hockey team—watching the rest of the team doing drills, scrimmaging, laughing, creating new inside jokes that I was not a part of, and getting to know the new head varsity coach. The past two years this team has been filled with my friends. I was so comfortable with them, but now an injury had put a wedge between me and these friendships. Field Hockey is my favorite sport, and the only serious one I play, how am I supposed to have any fun watching other people do what I have been restricted from? How can I sit here and fetch run away balls, get the water cooler, and move the goals, while everyone else gets to do what it is I really want to be doing?

After the first week of the season, those questions all remained unanswered.

My frustration started becoming an overwhelming factor in my life. Not to mention the fact that the jealousy I felt watching the team playing together flooded my brain. I was responsible for taking the teams statistics and watching the goals scored, but I felt as though I only had the title of “manager” and not the more respectable “injured player.”

The truth is, I didn’t see myself as a player anymore.

Were people thinking of me as someone who just needed to fulfill her sports requirement?

Every day I found myself coming home crying, complaining, regretting my choice to be manager. I was mad at both my dad and my sister for having pushed me towards that decision. Over the course of these days, however, I started realizing why I had done this. I wanted to be a part of something, a part of the team I have been with for the past three years. I didn’t want to leave the team or give up the sport just

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because I couldn’t play. I still wanted to feel that connection and bond with the team in hopes of returning either some time this season or next.

During one of these moments of despair, my parents gave me a talk that changed my view of the situation. They made me realize that I needed to take advantage of the position I was in. I began warming up the goalies, practicing my stick skills, staying in shape in the weight room, and coming out on the weekends to practice shooting. Sitting on the sideline, I learned more by watching and searching for the mistakes of others, seeing things I would not have paid close attention to if I had been on the field. It was shocking to discover that by sitting and watching the practices and games I was feeling like a better player. Even though I could not run, there wasn’t anything else that was holding me back. I tried becoming closer to the members of the team, joining their conversations and hanging out with them outside of practices. The younger players on the team started asking me for advice, not only with the sport, but with their lives, which made me feel even more important.

I still had the responsibility of being a role model to these girls. The jealousy and frustration melted away, leaving me with nothing but a determination to get back on my feet.

Through the care and empathy of my physical therapist, as well as the encouragement of my coaches, I joined each practice and actually played in three games during the final three weeks of the season.

Although it took every effort of both me and my coaches to control the amount of running I was doing during this time, I didn’t even care about the possibility of re-injuring myself—I was just happy to be playing again!

Though dissatisfied at first with the situation created by my injury, I learned something that will stick with me for the rest of my life: my happiness is up to me and only me. As a community we need to learn that being despondent over an experience only makes matters worse: you either make yourself more annoyed or even become an annoyance to the people around you. No one wants to get frown wrinkles above theirs eyebrows anyway, right? Remember that your life is made up of these experiences that bring lessons along the way. As long as you stay optimistic, and start each event with an open mind, you will have a greater chance of obtaining those far more desirable smile wrinkles.

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LISTENING Ann Yu Senior Hudson, Ohio

Rustling leaves. Morningdoves singing. Crickets chirping.

Wind blowing through the trees, creaking its boughs. Water trickling in the creek. That is the sound of music—the music of Nature. My favorite movie is August Rush, and my favorite line from it is, “Music is everywhere, you just have to listen.” As a musician, I like to think that everything around me is music in some way. God has composed an infinite symphony for everyone to hear. All you have to do is listen.

I remember watching my four-year-old nephew Julian climb onto the piano bench, and just like any other tot, compose his own little masterpiece. He would roll his chubby hands this way and that, plinking an occasional key at If we live and breathe, we both ends of the piano and twiddle a little nonsense tune as are musicians, all day, his fingers awkwardly tumbled every day. So as real across the black and white keys.

For the finale, he would musicians, we should make suddenly bang the piano with as some real music by much power as his little toddlerappreciating the music self could muster, and that was the end.

He would take around us. elaborate bows, arms wrapping in front and behind him, and then he would climb up onto the piano bench once more and go on with Composition No. 2. In his mind he was orchestrating a masterpiece, one definitely worthy of a Carnegie Hall debut, while really, it was just cute, dissonant, silliness that the family enjoyed.

If only everyone embraced music with such gusto, love, and curiosity. To just simply create for the sake of creating, not caring at all about what the judgmental world had to say. To simply be, and enjoy being.

Sounds fill the world. Owls hooting. Hearts steadily beating inside the living. Dogs barking. The wind whistling through the trees.

Fire crackling. Laughter echoing in the wind. Squirrels skittering about.

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Frogs croaking. Birds chirping. Do any of these sounds truly matter to us? Not at all. And yet they make up every second of our lives.

Music is all around us. It just depends on whether you choose to listen or whether you choose to label it as music. So what is music? And what is sound? I think that sound is all that noise that we hear, the stuff that we filter out as “unimportant,” and music is the pretty, harmonious ring in our ears, the stuff that we filter as “important,” because we like it, and we enjoy it. It’s what we want to hear.

We need to toss out the filter and compose a movement of God’s endless symphony using his mellifluous jungle of sound. We should all channel our inner-Julian and appreciate all the sounds around us, no matter how ridiculous we may seem, while appreciating each natural creation for just being its inherent self.

My favorite sound in the whole wide world is the sound of water. Trickling, dripping, splashing, beating, tinkling, sparkling water.

They say that only the best musicians can make their instrument sound like water—pure, natural, powerful. To me, the grouping of sounds that society calls music always mimics the elements. The bass drum sounds like thunder. The whistle of the piccolo sounds like birds. The round sound of the French horns sounds like the heavens parting on a glorious day. The voices of people sound like the beating hearts and the emotional souls living inside them. Music is everywhere.

Here on earth, everyone is a great musician. God created people to be musicians, whether we realize it or not. If we hear, experience, and relate, we are musicians. If we live and breathe, we are musicians, all day, every day. So as real musicians, we should make some real music by appreciating the music around us. Listen. Interact. Experience.

Express. Be aware of all the music around. Take everything in, and appreciate the music we’re making.

So what is music to me? This simple question proves far too deep for a young, budding musician who is still learning to stand on her own two feet to answer. I can definitely say that music comes from the heart, somewhere so deep down inside that words fail to describe it and music speaks instead. It makes me cry, it makes me smile, it makes me laugh. Music is omnipresent. My whole life is a continual orchestral score, marked by long, arching phrases, dynamics, dissonances, consonances, high points, and low points. I guess it is relative to each person. Music to one person may seem like noise to another. But really, it is everywhere, thriving. You just have to listen and appreciate.

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COFFEE Katherine (Wren)Zandee Sophomore Grand Rapids, Michigan

I don’t remember the first time I drank coffee. I suspect it was very early, as they say all the worst addicts start young. I do remember, however, one boring sixth grade recess in which I was dared to enter the teachers’ lounge (or the den of With great stealth I would wolves, as it seemed at that age) and take some. “Steal some take cups of plain hot coffee,” I think was the phrase water to my room, where used at the time, since it wasn’t explicitly mine. Then again, it I would muddy the water wasn’t explicitly not mine—I did with powdered coffee of pay to go to the school, after all. the lowest quality.

Feeling every inch the unchained rebel, I quickly It tasted terrible to me, dashed in, took a cup, filled it as it does to every seventh with an inch of coffee, and returned to my giggling grader, but I persisted with brethren.

Since there wasn’t Spartan determination to anything else to do with the enjoy every coffee, I drank it, black and bitter. That was how it started. dastardly swig.

I still have that stupid Styrofoam cup, my sixth-grade-self having saved it in satisfied pride of my nefarious accomplishment. It did not stop there, of course. That was just the first domino to fall in a long chain.

It is easy to blame my brother for what happened next. Every Sunday, sun or rain, my brother would tote me to Starbucks in the hopes of missing perhaps five minutes of church. My brother would usually have gotten back from some party only a few hours earlier and would consistently order something with approximately five shots of espresso.

I followed suit. This set the precedent for my seventh-grade coffee consumption . . . and, indeed, for my coffee consumption now. Hooked by my sampling at Starbucks, I would secretly “brew” Folgers Instant Singles in my room. For reasons unknown, I was somehow convinced

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that this was a secret of great consequence—no one must know. With great stealth I would take cups of plain hot water to my room, where I would muddy the water with powdered coffee of the lowest quality. It tasted terrible to me, as it does to every seventh grader, but I persisted with Spartan determination to enjoy every dastardly swig.

It’s hard to explain, even to myself, why I did this. It had something to do with honor, though. Coffee symbolized adulthood, and hard-core stamina. I loved to order coffee in shops, convinced that the barista was impressed by my wonderful taste in coffee at such a young age. Every cup was a tortuous endeavor, though, and I looked with wonder upon those who seemed to enjoy coffee—drinking multiple cups, espressos, lattes, and whatever the hell Americanos were (I’m still not sure on that one) and flavoring their desserts with the swill. These were the people who were doing things with their lives, things so compelling and impressive that they had to delve into ancillary hours just to contain the hours demanded by the parameters of their passion.

It came on slowly.

I continued to drink coffee That was when I made my casually but always with mild best discovery of all: distaste. My freshman year at caffeine powder. . . . Now I Reserve came and went. I began to drink coffee far more often to could sprinkle caffeine over keep myself awake early in the my food. I could put extra morning or late at night. These caffeine in coffee or bake it cups multiplied until coffee was always part of my routine. into cakes. The When I was tired my reflex possibilities seemed became to reach for a cup of coffee, leading to the advent of endless. The only severe an illicit dorm coffee maker risk I ran, I figured, was the (which broke a long time ago; likelihood of a Dean don’t report me).

With these cups of coffee came a new fear— walking in on me doing that there weren’t enough hours lines of caffeine in the in the night. One day, as I picked up my mug of coffee, I library. realized that I no longer minded the taste. I liked it a little, in fact.

With a newfound appreciation for coffee, I extended my days even more with the assistance of helpful baristas and cups of oily black brew. I found that I was never satisfied with my consumption. I always

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felt that I needed a little bit more. I began to conduct research on complementary coffee-related products: caffeinated candy, caffeinated toothpaste, caffeinated lip balm, dental floss, soap and shampoo, caffeinated vitamins and milk. I found that there was little that people had not added caffeine to. That was when I made my best discovery of all: caffeine powder. Quite literally caffeine in powdered form. My mind was whirling. Now I could sprinkle caffeine over my food. I could put extra caffeine in coffee or bake it into cakes. The possibilities seemed endless. The only severe risk I ran, I figured, was the likelihood of a Dean walking in on me doing lines of caffeine in the library. But it was not forbidden yet, I reminded myself. I could be a pioneer in all senses of the word.

Mere days after I had decided that I should acquire some caffeine powder at the earliest possible convenience, I woke up feeling not long for this world. I felt like my face was burning off, my cheekbones aching. I could barely open my eyes and my voice was barely distinguishable from Darth Vader’s. I felt so terrible that I briefly considered going to the Health Center. Briefly. I went to class, barely speaking. In one of my first classes of the day, a teacher walked by the door carrying her mug of coffee; the very smell had me on the edge of my seat, and I realized with horror that I had not had coffee that day.

With this came the realization that I had staved off for so long—I had finally become dependent on coffee.

I have become aware that being addicted to coffee is generally not considered good—and certainly nothing to celebrate. On a logical level this is true. However, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of residual pride, that I had finally managed to become a coffee drinker—a legitimate coffee drinker and a legitimate citizen of the world that whiles away its late hours in the grasp of work. It seems that my seventh-grade self finally got her way.

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FEAR AND LOATHING AT WRA Katherine (Wren) Zandee Sophomore Grand Rapids, Michigan

The collective conversation of the school population had merged into a single channel in the week preceding April the 20 th, shortly after a leader of the nascent student organization, Sub-Zero, sent an unintentionally incendiary email. The email was met with a host of replies, all in violation of the Acceptable Use Policy. These emails were, in turn, met with an essay entitled Salsa and Sub-Zero: the Rise of Fascism at Western Reserve Academy—the anonymous essay was placed into every student mailbox and even read or discussed in some classes. Just when it seemed that this rise of student conflict had reached its apex, two students were expelled (one on 4/20/2013 and another on 4/21/2013). It seems a dreary parable.

While it is hard, if not impossible, to argue that alcohol and other drugs are beneficial to a student body, you would also be hard-pressed to argue that expulsions don’t While it is hard, if not alter the student body in impossible, to argue that meaningful ways.

I find it difficult to take Sub-Zero too alcohol and other drugs are seriously because it seems that beneficial to a student many of their members are close body, you would also be friends—close friends that they hard-pressed to argue that will never have to relinquish to expulsions don’t alter the expulsion. The students that are expelled do not belong to some student body in unreachable underworld of meaningful ways. drugs and booze—many are well-liked by students and faculty alike. When they are expelled, they are essentially being cast out of the community, an image that simply does not gel with our self-portrayal as a close-knit community.

As the poet, Joyce Sutphen, says in her poem “Living in the Body”: Body is a thing that you have to leave eventually. You know that because you have seen others do it, others who were once like you,

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living inside their pile of bones and flesh, smiling at you, loving you, leaning in the doorway, talking to you for hours and then one day they are gone. No forwarding address.

When a student is expelled from Western Reserve Academy, we have not only called down judgment on their actions (the implication being that substance abuse is somehow so morally wrong that they no longer deserve to be educated in our community), we have left a gaping hole in the student body—in a school of 400, each absence is felt keenly.

One day, your friends are there . . . the next day they are gone.

Sub-Zero (happily now defunct) and our current substance abuse policies both smack of legalism and judgment in a school that claims to run on the ideals of integrity, compassion and When a student is expelled excellence. If what we say is from Western Reserve really true, then Western Academy, we have not Reserve Academy’s policies should be based upon the only called down judgment protection and care of students, on their actions (the faculty and administrators. So, if the premise of our policy implication being that about drugs is that drugs harm substance abuse is students, then the school’s drug somehow so morally policies should speak directly to the care of students. While the wrong that they no longer CARE team is certainly a step in deserve to be educated in the right direction, it involves our community), we have detailed ramifications of the line between discipline and care left a gaping hole in the which are easy to violate when student body—in a school petty feuds between students become messy. It is very easy to of 400, each absence is felt simply report someone to the keenly. One day, your CARE team out of spite. Yet if friends are there . . . the our drug policy is only designed to speak to the law, then we next day they are gone. have failed to honor our ideals of compassion and family. Yes, very few on our campus can legally possess drugs of any kind (with the exception of those old enough to

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possess tobacco products)—but surely punishments can be loosened without somehow crossing further legal lines (especially with the large amount of autonomy given to WRA by the Hudson Police Department).

Furthermore, why do we spend our time and energy convicting and disciplining those whose actions carry with them no suggestion of malintent or anger, as opposed to watching out for cruelty on our campus?

Far from removing the toxic personalities from our school, or trying to remove bullying and harassment, we are simply angering the student body by casting adrift dear friends.

If we are expelling students for a first offense of any kind, we are addressing the law rather than the care of the student and the community. Of four students recently expelled, one was a National Merit Scholar Finalist. He was caught smoking marijuana. If we truly possess the policies we do because of our values and our concern, we should look more closely at ourselves. What we were protecting this boy from? The perils of an “addiction” that evidently did not get in the way of his academic status, PSAT scores, and friends? Maybe the only thing this boy had to fear was the very thing that was supposed to protect him—the administration, the faculty, and the students. In other words, us. This expulsion will sit on his record and taint it—because we wanted to protect him.

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ON SPECIAL ASSIGNMENT: “WHAT’S IN A WORD?”

(EXTENDED DEFINITION ESSAY) MRS. SUSAN MCKENZIE’S AP ENGLISH IV CLASS

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bal•ance \ˈba-lən(t)s\ Tiffany Chung Senior Hudson, Ohio

Everyone has a different perception of balance. Some immediately think of an instrument used to measure out weight, while others think of being able to balance on one foot. I envision balance on a somewhat abstract level, with ideas of yin and yang, or the notion of things being in harmony. However, the word originally comes from the Latin roots of ‘bi,’ which means to have two, and ‘lanx’, which meant scale pan. Essentially, it was first used to describe an apparatus with a central pivot point or beam used for weighing. However, it has branched out from that simple object to a concept existing in everything around us.

Many dictionaries provide the broad definition of having equal parts under the word ‘balance.’ It’s about making two sides be the same; it’s taking a chunk of gold and finding a piece with the exact same mass.

However, I believe that balance in the more abstract sense should be all about differences. It has nothing to do with making things the same, but rather, balance is about learning to see equal value in different ideas, and use that to maintain a harmony in one’s life.

I’ve grown up with a constant identity crisis. Unlike most people, the city I was born in is different from the first city I lived in, which is different from the city I spent most of my adolescent years in, which is different from the city It has nothing to do with I’m living in now. All my life, I have had to learn to adapt making things the same, quickly depending on where I but rather, balance is about was, and who I was with. This wasn’t easy because I had learning to see equal value competing ideas, cultures, and in different ideas, and use values being thrown at me from that to maintain a harmony two different directions. I had my Americanized-cousins and in one’s life. grandparents on my dad’s side living in Los Angeles. Then, I had my typical traditionally Asian grandparents on my mom’s side living in Seoul. Being Asian-American

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is a huge part of who I am and learning to balance both sides of myself has been challenging, but it’s what makes me unique. Over the years, I have adopted a Western perspective as to the positive outcomes of change as well as being open to newer and more radical ideas.

However, I have also embraced the Eastern philosophies regarding the importance of tradition and the respect due towards elders. These clashing values could be a cause for conflict, but I have learned to balance the two with ease.

Similarly, Hong Kong is the country that represents the ultimate balance between East and West. As a former possession of Great Britain, there are structures in Hong Kong that look as though they come straight out of a colonial English scene. The streets are lined with British brands, and people who speak English have a tinge of an accent. However, it’s easy to find the Eastern elements at play as well. One can walk into a modern looking building and be greeted by an oriental-themed interior or walk into a traditional tea store and see a mix of English tea leaves and Chinese herbs. The East and West are completely different, but Hong Kong has found its own balance and created a new culture that combines the best of both. In that way, it has adopted balance on a much more global scale Aside from this cultural context, others find balance in the way they live their lives. Everyone is familiar with the phrase “work hard, play hard,” and that’s another way people balance the time they have between the things they need to do and the things they want to do.

Everyone knows someone who really takes this idea to heart: they will study endlessly on the weekdays but give themselves a big break on the weekends. To them, it’s a way to maintain equilibrium between diligence and relaxation. Another way people find balance in their lives is by weighing their own happiness against the happiness of others.

That’s why people engage in service: just as it is important to maintain one’s own happiness, it is just as important to see it in others. This is the epitome of my definition of balance, because it is a condition in which different elements are in proportion to each other despite differences.

Too much of any one thing can never be good. Having one aspect of your life dominate every action and thought you take is neither healthy nor enjoyable. If I allowed my Western influences exclusively to shape my values and ideals at the expense of my Eastern background, or vice versa, I would probably be facing a huge identity crisis. Finding the right equilibrium, or balance, is essential to knowing one’s place in the world. This notion embodies a much more abstract and global meaning

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to the concept than simply imagining an instrument used to measure weight.

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change \ˈchānj\ Kelsey Gordon Senior Elyria, Ohio

Throughout the summer and during school breaks, I work as a cashier for Discount Drug Mart. While this job is not the most thrilling, it has allowed me to gain an interesting perspective on our society.

When I think of change, my mind is drawn to the physical form: the heavy, clunky coins customers carry around after they make purchases.

Most people take change for granted, not appreciating its increasing value. While one penny or dime may not make a difference in your life, five might, or twenty, or one hundred. Some individuals realize coins’ potential, while others simply cast aside their extra nickels, naive and petty to the effect change can create. This theory can be applied to the spiritual meaning that lies within the word change; one change within one individual may not sum to any universal difference, however the collective movement of all can greatly impact the world. This influence, though, may not always be positive. There are occasions in which our leftover coins amount to useful, spending money, but, sometimes the excessive amount of metal simply weighs down one’s pockets, burdening the individual. Societal and cultural movements react in the same way; while both the civil-rights movement and the Holocaust can be viewed as collective changes, one is inspiring and the other is destructive.

Merriam-Webster defines change as “the act, process, or result of making different.” We often associate the word change with making a difference, improving our society or our way of living. When President Obama ran for election in 2008, his campaign slogan was in fact, the word change. The idea of evolution is attractive; it is in our human nature to strive to become better, stronger and more intelligent. Each day, thousands of protesters petition for the change they would like to see, such as civil rights, and an end to sickness and poverty. While these movements can be inspiring and productive, as Leo Tolstoy once said, “Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.” If we want to ameliorate our communities, it is necessary for us to improve our individual ways of thinking. Social and technological

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advances will not be possible without everyone adapting their lives and welcoming the change.

While change happens on a large scale, transformations are also prevalent within an individual. The changes that occur within ourselves happen naturally, inexplicably and sometimes, undesirably. One goes through life experiencing several physical, emotional and educational changes; whether it is the graying of hair, or the migration from one country to another, change is a universal idea, uniting every member of society. While change is uncontrollable, it can be an unfortunate experience. We all have that childhood friend whose personality changed dramatically once they became older, or maybe an external force, such as the influence of others, transformed a close friend into an unrecognizable state. Change is also ubiquitous in that manner; aside from experiencing the phenomenon, we all witness it occur within others.

Aside from observing mental and personality changes, we also see physical transformations take place. From the leaves decaying into the winter snow, to brick buildings crumbling with age, visual changes surround us. Humans also follow a basic transition--birth, childhood, adulthood, death--and throughout this process we undergo several bodily modifications. These are natural procedures we understand and have come to expect, yet there is a side of nature that is sudden and unaccountable. Tornadoes, hurricanes, and earthquakes are deadly forces that impact the lives of millions, permanently changing the world.

Like all other forms, visible alterations can be negative or positive.

Change, whether it is physical, collective, individual or visible, can lead to both favorable and harmful effects. Humans place a high value on the word change, yet I argue that perhaps we depend on this word too much.

It is not change itself that influences our society, but it is the people that create these changes and are affected by them that truly leave the lasting impact. The personal influence of leaders and outcomes inspires future changes. It is rather difficult to connect with change, because it is so broad and can exist in a variety of forms. It becomes easier to achieve positive change once it is perceivable, encouraging millions of future scientists, sociologists and civil-rights activists. Yet, at the same time, it is the repercussions of bad changes that encourage us to never go down the same path. Change is very important word in our world, however when we speak of it, we are really referencing the results and creators, not the reactions, that make an impression on our lives. In reality, change is everything, yet it takes a special group, individual or consequence to leave a meaningful, lasting impression.

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con•duct \ˈkän-dəkt\ Harold Zhu Senior Solon, Ohio

When I was handed an essay prompt asking me to compose an entire piece of writing on a single word, I was mystified. I have a hard time writing essays centered on novels, and those contain thousands of words. Wondering how on earth I could go about writing an essay on just one word in the English language, I tried a simple Google search, typing in phrases such as “cool words” and “words with multiple meanings.” While I found some really bizarre and interesting words, such as scandalitis (pain caused to a person for being caught in scandals), I did not stumble upon anything that I believed I could write a whole paper about. Nor did I find anything I actually wanted to write about.

Then, I was given the advice to Then, I was given the choose a word that I could relate to, a word that reflects who I am. advice to choose a word For some odd reason, this piece that I could relate to, a of advice brought a particular word that reflects who I Dr. Seuss quote to mind: “Today you are you, that is truer than am. For some odd reason, true. There is no one alive that this piece of advice brought is youer than you.” On a pure a particular Dr. Seuss quote whim, I googled “Dr. Seuss quotes” and started perusing the to mind: “Today you are many wise proverbs this you, that is truer than true. celebrated writer had to offer. I found a saying regarding There is no one alive that is behavior, and suddenly, the youer than you.” perfect word came to mind. A word that is me: conduct. Conduct has artistic implications, a scientific meaning, and even a definition regarding law and the themes of our English class.

Everything in this world requires a leader to be successful, and music is no exception. One of the definitions of conduct that MerriamWebster offers is “to direct the performance of.” A conductor is the leader of an orchestra, someone who is quite literally above the rest of

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the musicians, for the conductor stands atop a podium and directs from this place of power. A form of communication that breaks all barriers, music requires a different set of leadership skills. A conductor does not need to possess the talents of a skillful orator, but must instead learn to speak with his body’s movements, making them as relatable and possible. He must be able to keep order silently, with only a small wooden stick to help him. The baton is used to keep the entire orchestra breathing as a single organism. This particular definition of conduct has connotations of artistic leadership, an ability to unite a hundred different musicians.

A second definition of conduct, although very different from the musical definition, shares a particular attribute with the first. In science, a conductor is “a material which permits the flow of energy.” Similar to how a music conductor transmits energy to the members of the ensemble, metallic conductors allow energy to be transferred from one body to another. In this sense, conductors are the unifiers of the physical world, exactly as conductors are the glue that hold an orchestra together.

This scientific definition of conduct does not have an established connotation, but the absence of a denotative subtext is just as interesting.

It suggests that science is built around fact, and that there is little room open for interpretation.

Perhaps the most popular and widely used definition of conduct is “the way that a person behaves in a particular place or situation.” One is expected to carry oneself in a respectable and considerate manner. It is not only a social expectation but also a legal responsibility. All people are expected to act in a civilized manner, and those who do not are punished. They are said to be guilty of disorderly conduct, behavior that leads to “a disturbance of the public peace or offends public decency.”

Because this is fairly well-known legal terminology, the word “conduct” carries a rather formal connation with it. It implies strict behavioral expectations.

However, although every person is more or less expected to behave along the same social guidelines in public, in the musical world, there are no such laws, especially for conductors. Each conductor has his or her own signature flair, and there is no rulebook for how conductors should conduct themselves—musically speaking. For example, two conductors can have two very distinct interpretations of the same piece of music. One may think that the character of the music is forceful and insistent, while the other may believe the music possesses a more powerful and majestic quality. To convey these different understandings of the piece, the conductors will behave differently on the podium. This

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illustrates the fact that the artistic world has few rules, while everyday society is laden with laws and regulations.

A word rarely has an artistic, scientific, and a more broadly social definition. The word conduct not only boasts a definition in all three of these categories, but the connotations also relate, intertwine, and contrast in remarkable ways. With a thoughtful analysis of the multiple layers of this special word, I was able to develop a more nuanced understanding of a word that embodies part of who I am as a person.

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hu•man \ˈhyü-mən\ Eric Chueh Senior Rocky River, Ohio

A very, very long time ago, a particularly brilliant, furry animal came up with the wonderful idea of utilizing its hind legs for the purpose of standing up and maintaining balance. 1.8 million years later, more than seven billion humans now inhabit the planet, each one brimming with individuality and amazing capabilities. Over the past couple of centuries, our It seems that the moment technology has brought us to a we, as a species, evolved point where we are no longer obligated to devote countless beyond the state of mere hours of time searching for apes, we became so essentials such as food, water, and shelter. Civilization has, in mindlessly preoccupied fact, never looked so good or with improving our lives, seemed to be evolving so fast. with making difficult How many of us, however, truly understand the meaning of things simpler and thus “being human”? It seems that making our lives easier, the moment we, as a species, evolved beyond the state of that we forgot what truly mere apes, we became so sets us apart from the mindlessly preoccupied with hairier creatures next in improving our lives, with making difficult things simpler line on the evolutionary and thus making our lives ladder. easier, that we forgot what truly sets us apart from the hairier creatures next in line on the evolutionary ladder.

The scientific name for our species is homo sapiens sapiens—for we are even more sapient, or doubly wiser, than were our ancestral cousins known as the Neanderthals. Humans combine emotion and reason in such a way as to make us stand alone, so to speak, in the animal kingdom. However, when society has come to a point where we all seem obsessed with materialistic desires—be they for wealth, glory,

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fame, or all three—it is safe to say we have only regressed through the years in terms of fulfilling our purposes as organisms. Additionally, emotion has overcome reason in too many instances throughout our history, leading occasionally to disastrous consequences.

Due to the miracle of human DNA, they say it is virtually impossible for any two people to be perfectly identical. This fact has its pros and cons: on the one hand, it may well mean the absolute impossibility of our ever achieving world peace; on the other, this allows us nearly limitless variety, and in its own way this improves the state of the human race. As long as differences between people exist, however, conflict is inevitable. Of course, they say “to err is human.” This is, nevertheless, not necessarily an evil—yes, we may have seen the rise to power of Hitler’s Nazi Germany along with other inhumane governments, but as many of these as there have been, there will always be the special people in the crowd who disagree with common sentiment and are willing to stand up for what they believe. They may be looked down upon, hissed at, and even attacked for their views, but history has shown that those who have dared speak up while surrounded by a sea of silence often have had a revolutionary impact on the world.

Humans also differ from one other in terms of their basic intellectual capacity. Some people are quick and agile minds while others take a much longer time to process and synthesize information.

However, it seems nature again has a way of balancing things out, for genius can only be made manifest through an audience. Genuises need us as much as we need them. One without the other would make either poorer.

Besides, all things are relative. There is no human who excels at everything. Moreover, no one individual can remain at the top of their game forever. At some point, the time arrives when each of us, no matter our achievements, has to step down from the ladder so that others may ascend it. It is interesting to note that when it comes to the question of comparative knowledge, this former key distinction between people—in other words between those who possessed vast knowledge versus those who did not—is becoming less relevant for a generation of humans with vast amounts of knowledge increasingly available at the click of a button. Now, if personal retention of knowledge is the only talent at which one is proficient then you can be easily replaced by a search engine. What is important for survival now is a combination of traditional knowledge with a common sense understanding of the daily scenarios and situations that we inevitably find ourselves in. No other animal has common sense; they simply follow their physical instincts.

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Humans, however, are capable of surpassing such limits and going far beyond. (Despite these changes in what we need to be able to know and do in order to survive in the modern world, some naive students still seem to forsake opportunities to nurture their common sense for a couple pages more of convention learning.)

Regardless of what we choose to do with the gift that nature has given us by placing us atop the animal kingdom hierarchy—whether it be to drive the planet into a state of chaos and anarchy or instead live peacefully with love and compassion for one another—one thing is certain, the fate of the planet will come down to the choices we make. As Voltaire accurately put it, “Man is free at the moment he wishes to be.”

If we can come to appreciate the full power of our human capabilities, we might continue to evolve as a race while preserving the most important characteristics that define us all.

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in•som•nia \in-ˈsäm-nē-ə\ Ziyou Fan Senior Guangzhou, China

Has simply falling asleep ever been a problem for you? The inability to sleep is known as insomnia. Although many people consider sleep disorders to be a more modern-day phenomenon, in reality, sleeplessness has been around for centuries. Originating from the Latin word insomnis, the history of the English word insomnia can be dated back to the early 1600s, a time period when various European nations were at war with one another and Sir Isaac Newton was trying to explain the Law of Universal Gravitation to his less enlightened countrymen.

Insomnia can have various causes, including the use, abuse, and withdrawal from certain drugs. However, relatively run-of-the mill stress and anxiety are the most common causes of the condition.

Considering the stress and anxiety often created by the fast pace of our lives today, we can certainly begin to understand why there are people who believe it is a “modern day disorder.”

I, myself, have been experiencing a mild form of insomnia recently. I can still fall asleep without taking medication, but it usually takes me two hours or more to . . . I can feel the clock let the weariness work its magic on me. After having trouble ticking more slowly than sleeping for three consecutive usual, especially at night nights, however, I started to when everyone else in the realize that there was something wrong with my life. I began to dorm has gone to sleep and look for the potential sources of I lie on the bed trying to stress in my life. I knew that sometimes one thing can be empty my weary mind. bothering you without your I fail. being completely aware of it. I flipped through my calendar to see if the upcoming week of final exams could be the reason, but it turns out that the weekend before the finals— rather than the exams themselves—is the true cause of my anxiety. It is then that I am to receive the admissions decisions from three of the colleges to which I have applied.

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It may sound like a paradox to say that the upcoming notification days are frustrating me, given that I wasn’t really aware of their approach until the moment my finger flipped the calendar to the page which I had earlier marked “NYU result.” Nevertheless, it still makes sense to me, as in the last two weeks I have actually been thinking about whether I can actually get into these schools and, if so, what my life is going to be like in college. Such an anxious mood exhausts me as much as daily homework does, and this mental exhaustion, ironically, leads to the insomnia. I know that this sleeplessness is likely going to make me suffer for the next two days and then disappear once I receive the admission decision—regardless of whether the news is good or bad: anxiety is principally caused by the fear of an unknown future.

This is probably the toughest period I have ever experienced in my seventeen years of life. Every second of a day feels longer than a century, as I am waiting for the moment to come: the moment which will determine my place in life for the next four years. As long as this moment remains a mystery, I can feel the clock ticking more slowly than usual, especially at night when everyone else in the dorm has gone to sleep and I lie on the bed trying to empty my weary mind. I fail. I stare at the ceiling as if I am staring at a screen and watching the scenes of my life in the future. I know that these scenes are borne out of my anxious imagination, and every night they change as I picture my life being different from the ones I have previously imagined. It feels like watching movies in which I am both the director and the lead character, meeting with different people and traveling to different places each night. Unfortunately, I never remember the ending of these movies— either because they don’t have one or perhaps because I eventually do fall asleep before they have a chance to reveal the conclusion.

It does seem to me that the older one gets, the more stress he or she experiences. And the more stress one has, the easier it is to suffer from insomnia. I remember a line from Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Chronicle of a Death Foretold: “none of us could go on living without an exact knowledge of the place and the mission assigned to us by fate.”

Although it speaks to a different situation, it somehow explains why insomnia has entered into my life unexpectedly. Perhaps it is simply a mark of transitioning past my adolescence, a time where I anxiously await an unknown future until the mystery is finally revealed.

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love \ˈləv\ Amy Squire Senior Richfield, Ohio

English limits one of the strongest feelings a human can experience to a single, simple, four-letter word: love. Beyond being one of the most difficult concepts to describe in and of itself, this limitation to just one term does not help humanity understand what love really is.

When someone talks about love, does he or she mean sexual love, familial love, the love of friends, the love between partners that is not sexual, or something entirely different? The word itself does not provide any clarity as all of these concepts are wrapped up into one little shell.

Long before the English language existed, the idea of love was still discussed, but it was done in a much more efficient manner. For example, the ancient Greeks developed four words for love, each of which described a different subcategory or application of the concept.

The first is ἀγάπη (agápē), a sort of unconditional, selfless love. It was adapted in later non-Greek uses, such as the Bible, to describe the For example, the ancient type of love one feels for one’s Greeks developed four god or deity. The second, ἔρως (érōs), is perhaps the most words for love, each of widely known of the Greek which described a different terms.

It refers to erotic— subcategory or application physical and/or sexual—love, somewhat close to the ideas of the concept. conveyed in English’s use of “lust.” Φιλία (philía) describes the love shared between friends or the less personal kind of love one feels for a favorite activity or experience and is more light-hearted and laid-back than the connotations of the other terms. In fact, this term is still used with generally the same meaning in modern-day Greek. Finally, the ancient Greeks used στοργή (storagē) to show the sort of inherent and almost obligatory love between family members or, in rare cases, from a subject to a ruler, though this was meant in a more sarcastic sense. So, maybe the ancient Greeks had a far better system than we modern English-speakers do: they were smart enough to assign the various types of love to different

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words, whilst we try to jam-pack all of these ideas into one arguably under-sized box.

So what, beyond confusion, does this limitation mean for English-speakers? For one thing, I think it has mutated our understanding of ‘love,’ morphing it into an almost taboo word, especially among teenagers. Despite the fact that ‘love’ has many meanings (dictionary.com provides fourteen for just its noun form!), Americans in particular seem to ascribe only one of these to their understanding of the term, immediately jumping to the conclusion that that one definition is always the one intended, thereby changing people’s meanings rather drastically. This go-to understanding seems to be closest to a combination of the physical and emotional attraction between partners, and this ideology has made ‘love’ a somewhat dangerous utterance.

I have experienced the doom of saying ‘love’ myself. I have always seen the word in its many meanings, using it interchangeably to describe my affinity for a certain game and my close bond with a friend, consciously acknowledging that each of these uses is different.

However, especially once I entered high school, I found out it was no longer socially acceptable to say you loved someone unless they were a family member or someone you had been dating for a while, and even then people scoffed at it. Trying to communicate to one of my close male friends how much I valued our friendship, I shamelessly admitted how I loved spending time with him and loved talking with someone who had interests and ideals similar to my own. At the time, I had seen nothing wrong with this, but a marked decrease in my friend’s presence in my everyday life—a particularly noteworthy feat considering we had multiple classes together—alerted me that I must have done something wrong. It was only after consulting with some other friends that I realized the error of my ways: I had used the word ‘love,’ a sacred term reserved for those with deep emotional connections between one another, and besides, “everyone knows saying you love something about someone means you have a crush on them.”

Well, I actually had not known that, but once it had entered my sphere of knowledge, I could not forget it. I spent the majority of my conversations with male friends walking on linguistic eggshells, hoping that I would not slip up and use that damning term on accident. Over time, though, I realized how ridiculous it was that the entirety of the teenage population, or at least that at Reserve, seemed to fear this little four-letter word because it just might mean that someone had morethan-friendly feelings for you, and this fear forced everyone to consider any mention of the many-definitioned term to be referring to that more

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serious type of love. The idea of Plutonic love was thrown out the window, and people did not really have adequate ways to express their appreciation for their friends anymore, so those often-needed remarks went unsaid, costing a couple friendships along the way. If people could just get over their stigma about ‘love’ and recognize that uttering it about someone does not immediately condemn you to a life-sentence of marrying that person, we would return to ourselves a way to express all forms of human affection.

Nowadays, ‘love’ seems to mean exclusively romantic attraction, but it was not always that way. Just as the ancient Greeks’ varied forms of the word indicates, ‘love’ has many more meanings than one, I spent the majority of my so why do we insist on ascribing conversations with male a single definition to the term? friends walking on It seems incredibly silly when you stop to think about it. Why linguistic eggshells, hoping should anyone ever be chastised that I would not slip up for telling a friend that she loves and use that damning term her friendship with that person, or even that person himself? If on accident. we could just remember and readopt the ideology that love comes in many different flavors, our language will bloom open again as we will finally be able to convey freely and satisfactorily our appreciation for someone or something without the fear of being misunderstood as more serious about the nature of that love than is the case. Love is a powerful word backed by an even more powerful concept; it does not deserve to be so limited in its scope as the modern English language and its speakers insist it be.

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of•fense \ə-ˈfen(t)s\ Alex Campana Senior Twinsburg, Ohio

The game of soccer is often referred to as the “World Sport.” I am happy to say that it is my favorite sport as well. Soccer flows unlike many other sports in the world, not bogged down by constant whistles, pauses, and breaks. In some cases, however, the game does come to a pause as a result of an offending defender. Offenses are sometimes too quick and fast for defenses, and consequently defenders commit offenses on attackers. They are then punished for their offense with either a cautionary yellow card or a more punitive red card. On a different note, people commit more serious offenses in life: criminal offenses. These offenders are cautioned with a wide array of punishments ranging from community service to life in prison. The truth is that there are offenses committed in all aspects of life. Chances are that as recently as today you may have heard someone sarcastically say, “No offense,” after a comment was made where they clearly offended someone. I have been studying law in two classes this year and have spent a lot of time trying to understand what constitutes and justifies a criminal offense as well as how those offenses should be punished. So, how are every-day offenses, in this case soccer offenses, connected with criminal offenses? An offense in soccer helps to explain the motives and consequences of a criminal offense and how it affects an individually emotionally.

Soccer players commit offenses for several reasons. Of course, there are always accidental offenses in soccer, just as there are in real life.

Occasionally, a player is not trying to commit an offense and perhaps neither is a “criminal.” Nevertheless, the offense is still committed.

There is one motive in particular, though, that plays into more serious fouls in soccer as well as more serious crimes in life. A player can become worked up during the course of a game. Perhaps things are not going his way. Perhaps another player took a cheap shot on him. As a result, he feels angry and wants to fix it. The player then goes out of his way to slide tackle someone after a play or starts pushing or even throwing punches. He cannot control his emotions. This is much like situations in real life. People find themselves in bad and even terrible positions sometimes. Some people don’t have enough money to eat or

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enough money to have a bed to sleep on. Some people have been wronged by someone else, and they don’t want it to go unpunished.

Consequently, people will commit serious criminal offenses such as armed robbery or even murder. They had the same motives and anger building up in them as an offending soccer player, just on a much larger scale.

As demonstrated above, some offenses, in both soccer and life, are more serious than others and warrant more severe punishments.

One of the most well-known soccer offenses came in the 2006 World Cup Final when a world-class offensive player, Zinedine Zidane, of France, head-butted an Italian defender named, Marco Materazzi. Materazzi allegedly made some comments to Zidane about his family members and Zidane reacted poorly. He felt wronged and felt he needed to address the situation himself. Head-butting a player in the chest is very dangerous and thus warrants a straight red card, as well as huge fines, suspensions, as well as intense public scrutiny. The idea behind punishment is that the offender understands that his actions against the defendant were wrong and that he learns from these mistakes.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines the word offense as “a breach of a law or rule; an illegal act; annoyance or resentment brought about by a perceived insult to or disregard for oneself; the action of attacking someone or something.” As shown, there are a lot of ways to offend another human being. The severity of these offenses thus becomes important. It is not okay to say that you didn’t offend someone just because you didn’t legally offend that person. In 7 th grade, a player from another team was insulting me on the field. I was so infuriated by this player that when he and I were running towards the ball on the sideline I grabbed him and threw him to the ground without even touching the ball. My coach immediately screamed at me and took me out of the game. He asked me, “Are you crazy?” He told me I could go back in the game after I cooled down. The referee did not see the play and as a result a foul was not called and a likely red card was not given to me. This does not mean I did not commit an offense. This also does not mean that the other player who insulted me did not commit an offense. Humans know the difference between right and wrong. My time on the bench game me a chance to understand why what I did was wrong and give all parties involved an apology. One final and unrelated nuance about the word offense is that it is spelled “offence” in Canada and the United Kingdom.

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rev•o•lu•tion \ˌre-və-ˈlü-shən\ Lily Liu Senior Shanghai, China

It is not difficult to tell that the word revolution tends to capture people’s attention. Whether it is the American Revolution that gave this nation its identity, the French Revolution that ended with the bloodshed of the Terror, or the Chinese Cultural Revolution that drained the vivacious spirit with propaganda, revolutions always seem to carry a more profound and solemn connotation. The cultural, political, and historical significance the term possesses adds much weight to this foursyllable word. The heaviness of the word makes it difficult for us to retrieve the most basic and fundamental denotation of the word.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, revolution initially meant “the movement of an object in a circular or elliptical course around another or about an axis or center.” How it was transformed into meaning “a dramatic and wide-reaching change in the way something works or is organized or in people’s ideas about it” is uncertain. While it may seem that the term carries two different meanings, there is of course a subtle connection between the two. The cyclical motion of a revolving object mimics the trend of a restoring force constantly pulling society back a little from where the revolutionary movements lead us.

In physics, the Greek letter ω, which is also known as angular velocity, represents the number of revolutions an object can make with respect to an axis within a certain amount of time. Besides this mathematical dynamic, the rate at which revolutions take place also has a social significance. The French Revolution, which is symbolized by the storming of the Bastille, a dungeon in Paris for political enemies of King Louis XIV, lasted for less than a single day. On the other hand, the American Revolution started in 1775 with the Battle of Lexington and Concord and ended only with the Treaty of Paris in 1783, thus spanning nearly a decade. By comparison, the pace at which revolution occurred in France was significantly faster than it was in America during the Revolutionary War. As a consequence, the triumph the people achieved from the French Revolution was soon doomed by the Reign of Terror, where a dictatorial government imposed worse political censorship on the people. Whereas the drafting of the Articles of Confederation (and,

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later, the United States Constitution), which resulted from the American Revolution, brought relative stability and long-term benefit to the society.

From this comparison, it is clear that the effectiveness of a revolution often has an inverse relationship with the rate at which the movement takes place. To achieve lasting revolutionary results, what is required is not merely bold action, but also persistence and patience.

Although a speedy coup d’etat may achieve immediate results Although a speedy coup that can elevate the popular d’etat may achieve spirit, any seemingly positive immediate results that can changes to the previous situation will likely fade due to the lack of elevate the popular spirit, a corresponding systematic any seemingly positive change to the social structure necessary to maintain it in the changes to the previous long run. By contrast, if the situation will likely fade revolution commences with due to the lack of a correcting the inadequacies of the current system on the most corresponding systematic basic level and gradually change to the social transforming the core of the structure necessary to society into one that is more desirable, the long-lasting effect maintain it in the long run. will more than make up for the lengthier time it may take to achieve all its goals. In terms of ω, the faster it is, the less time for the revolving object to return to its original position. The more steadily the revolution is taking place, the longer the fruits of its success will last.

Nonetheless, the progression of history is never completely cyclical. As the celebrated German philosopher Hegel proposed, nothing in history can be eliminated through revolution because everything can evolve and be preserved in a spiral. The notion of a spiral progression of history provides a completely new perspective on the meaning of revolution. Some may argue that the French Revolution was a failure because the establishment of the Committee of Public Safety, the dictatorial Consul, and the eventual crowning of Napoleon Bonaparte as Emperor returned France to an absolutist society like the one under Louis XIV’s reign. However, the legacy it left in terms of the Civil Code, the Constitution, and an extremely elevated nationalist spirit, took France to a brand new place that it could never have achieved

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without the revolution. Similarly, the Chartist Movement that commenced in 1839 in Britain commended universal male suffrage and the secret ballot, which were both considered radical ideas at the time. After three vetoes from the House of Commons, the Movement seemed to have ended in defeat. Despite all this, the notion of equal rights and a more democratic way of thinking were imprinted in the hearts of many.

The Chartists’ demands were eventually met in the Reform Acts issued in 1867 and 1884, which would have been impossible without the socalled failures of the movement. Hegel’s theory of a spiral progression of history perfectly denotes a characteristic of revolution that is absent in its definition as a concept from physics: revolutions led by people who have the intention of bettering the world transform the society into one with fundamental differences in the long run.

From quantifying simple circular motion to qualifying the attempts to ameliorate the ills of society, the word revolution has been transformed from one with two dimensions into one with multiple. The utterance of the word becomes more inspiring, making generation after generation of people optimistic about the future, which they know will be revolutionarily glorious.

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YOLO \’ yoh-loh \ Jack McKenzie Senior Hudson, Ohio

Living with “no regrets” often seems unattainable. Humans are reflective beings. The majority of our time is spent worrying about the past or trying to imagine what our futures will look like. We Recently, YOLO has come worry instead of simply living more to signify the actions in the moment. Living in the of the person who does moment could be described as YOLO. An acronym for “you stupid things because they only live once,” YOLO is a term don’t particularly care promoting the idea of living life in the present moment.

It what the consequences will implies that “one should enjoy be. In short, there is little life, even if that entails taking to no serious risks” (Wikipedia). Recently, YOLO has come more to signify contemplation of what the the actions of the person who outcome of their YOLOdoes stupid things because they don’t particularly care what the moment might be. consequences will be. In short, Depending on the there is little to no serious situation, they might end contemplation of what the outcome of their YOLO-moment up with anything from a might be. Depending on the broken arm to a date with situation, they might end up the hottest girl in school. with anything from a broken arm to a date with the hottest girl in school. Balance, of course, is the key to a good life. There needs to be some happy-medium between constantly second-guessing ourselves on every action versus giving no prior thought to anything we do.

Sadly, my generation’s solution to living with no regrets has, for some, become not thinking at all—which usually results in even more regretful outcomes.

Living carelessly has evolved into a coping mechanism for the

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feeling of regret. One description of regret is “feeling sad or sorry about something that a person did or did not do” (Merriam-Webster). It is a negative and depressing feeling. Regret often comes from situations of irony. We neglect to do certain things because we take them for granted.

Just as in Alanis Morissette’s song “Ironic,” the irony of not doing something, even when it seems trivial and unimportant, is that usually we miss out on an important opportunity. The student who refuses to study because he thinks it’s a waste of time, ultimately experiences regret when he is denied entrance into his dream college. The teenager who neglects to tell his parents how much he loves them feels regret when both Mom and Dad are killed in a car accident and are suddenly no longer around anymore. The person in a relationship who takes their significant other for granted, suddenly feels regret when they are dumped unexpectedly. However, in many ways, it is these extreme situations that result in the kind of regret that is the most unavoidable. It is the little things that we can control, not the nuanced realities of life that are going to hit all of us hard at one point or another.

In many ways, the YOLO mindset is a corrupt idea because it has become an extreme solution to the realities of life. People figure that they will enjoy life more if they simply live every day without worry. It is important, however, to note that everyone merely acting on impulse is not going to get rid of everyone’s regrets. Regret is simply a fact of life.

In fact, YOLO has become more of an excuse to do stupid things, instead of a healthy reminder to not worry about the frustrating day-to-day problems that everyone faces. For example, the kid who yells “YOLO” at the top of his lungs before downing the first shot at a party he is throwing behind his parents’ backs, is no better off than the kid who neglected to study in high school and now feels regret from that. In the long run, both kids end up wallowing in regret from either their lack of initiative or reckless mindset. Because of this, YOLO has also developed a negative connotation. This is unfortunate because it does, on some level, suggest a valuable way in which to try to live your life. It has simply been taken to its extreme. Just because YOLO stands for “you only live once” doesn’t mean that you have to ruin your one opportunity to enjoy life by making stupid decisions.

Overall, anyone who, in living by the YOLO mindset, is attempting to rid themselves of regret, needs to realize that regret is unavoidable. If anything they are putting themselves in more regretprone situations by not thinking before acting. Yes, too much regret causes people to worry too much and live in the past, but at the same time it highlights the value of learning from our mistakes. There is

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something to be said for a person’s ability to get over a tough loss or regretful situation. It builds character. Yes, the majority of us do tend to worry about the unimportant things a little bit too much. This is where the idea of YOLO could best be employed. The YOLO-mindset should be less of a motto of acting on impulse and more of a reminder that everything always ends up okay in the end, even when things aren’t looking favorable.

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HISTORY WRITING CONTEST

FIRST PLACE WINNERS 2012-2013 98

2013 AMERICAN HISTORY CONTEST – FIRST PLACE Becca Cartellone Class of 2013 Hudson, Ohio

A Subsidy Nightmare: The Government’s Destructive Ethanol Policy In the past three decades, there has been a boom in ethanol production throughout the United States, an increase that has been driven by government action. Despite extensive research that has determined that ethanol is not a viable replacement for fossil fuels, both environmentally and economically, production continues to rise. The government has been influenced by the movement towards environmentalism, but it has gone too far in its attempts to encourage “green” behavior and choices across the country. Over-reaching acts and subsidies have increased the production of a fuel that, when viewed in total, offers little to no benefit over cheaper and more effective fossil fuels. When considering biofuels and other renewable forms of energy, all have negative aspects that detract from their potential to reduce the use of fossil fuels. Ethanol is certainly no exception; in fact, its possibilities have been nearly exhausted by the government, only to discover that ethanol is not a viable biofuel. The government’s focus on ethanol wastes time and money that would be better spent on creating and improving other possible biofuels and fossil fuel substitutes.

Although ethanol displays some promising qualities as a biofuel, the government’s negligent decisions to encourage ethanol use are ultimately detrimental because of ethanol’s costs and negative environmental effects.

As described by Nancy Nichols, a microbiologist with the United States Department of Agriculture Bioenergy Research Unit, and her colleagues, the inefficient process of corn ethanol production does not yield enough net energy to make ethanol viable. The first step of corn ethanol production is to extract starch from the corn kernels and convert it to glucose to prepare for the fermentation process. Not every part of each kernel can be used, because starch typically only makes up about seventy percent of each kernel (Nichols et al 3). This fact already creates

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inefficiency, because essentially just under one third of every corn cob, and in turn every bushel of corn, goes to waste. The cornstarch is then enzymatically converted to glucose before entering one of two fermentation processes, either dry-grind or wet-milling. In the dry-grind process, the whole corn kernels are ground to coarse flour before fermentation, while in wet milling, the starch is separated from the rest of the kernel first, then only the starch fraction is fermented. Wet milling plants produce fewer gallons per bushel than dry-grind refineries, about 2.4 gallons, but they also manufacture other products, such as corn based animal feed, from the discarded parts of the corn kernels. Dry-grind facilities constitute eighty-two percent of all refineries; per bushel of corn, about 2.8 gallons of ethanol are produced (Nichols et al 3-6). This process is favored because it is cheaper to not separate the parts of the kernels and to only produce ethanol, but unfortunately that means that the thirty percent of the kernels that is not starch is wasted more often than not.

Various related drawbacks also emerge from the ethanol production process, including the fact that it often takes a greater energy input in production than the energy output the ethanol provides. The production process of ethanol, especially relative to the production of other biofuels, is very low yielding. Under perfect conditions, corn ethanol yields less than twenty percent more energy than is used to produce it, although more commonly, energy is actually needed to produce a resulting fuel that will generate less energy than was dedicated to its production. This yield figure is very small compared to other alternatives, such as soybean biodiesel, which can double the amount of energy put in for a yield of just under one hundred percent (Hill et al 11206). Additionally, the refineries are run by natural gas, a nonrenewable resource, and the production process produces carbon dioxide (Committee 204). Combined, these effects basically negate the positives that the ethanol may have caused for the environment. More specifically, the theoretical yield of ethanol from one gram of fermented glucose is 0.51 grams. From the same gram of glucose, 0.49 grams of carbon dioxide will also be produced. Due to the imperfections of the production process, the actual yield is about ninety to ninety-three percent of the theoretical yield (Nichols et al 4). Regardless, almost half of the glucose from the cornstarch becomes carbon dioxide, the very same gas that the use of ethanol in cars and other vehicles is attempting to reduce. Corn ethanol is one of the least viable biofuels, so why did the government choose to promote it so strongly with subsidies and other congressional actions?

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As depletion of nonrenewable resources expands with the growing human population, concern for the environment necessitates the development of substitutes for fossil fuels. Specifically, more and more attention has been drawn to the search to find green energy sources that can reduce the emissions of carbon dioxide and other contributors to global warming (Dias de Oliveira, Vaughan, and Rykiel 593). Ethanol as a biofuel has been regarded as a popular solution to offset the harmful emissions of gasoline, partly because it adds more oxygen to gasoline to reduce the amount of carbon dioxide released into the atmosphere when the fuel is burned (Glozer 17). In this way, ethanol does have merit as a gasoline additive and as a potential fossil fuel substitute. Production of ethanol as a biofuel has occurred in the United States for about thirty years, although the largest biofuels boom did not begin until 2005 (Tyner 646). In the U.S., ethanol is most commonly produced from corn. This cites another reason why the government chose to focus in on ethanol: it can be produced from a relatively cheap, easy to grow, American crop. In 2011, approximately forty-one percent of the United States corn crop was used for ethanol production (Feinstein 240). Ethanol is also more popular than other fuels such as soybean biodiesel because of its compatibility with gasoline, making it a good additive to create blends instead of using an entirely biodiesel type of fuel (Hill et al 11207). In addition, the government has been pressured to support corn ethanol by the National Corn Growers Association (NCGA), a group that is very pro-ethanol due to the benefits corn growers reap from a high demand for their crop. The association’s website plainly states that the “NCGA serves as a leading voice for ethanol on Capitol Hill and across the country” and that one of its purposes is “influencing ethanol policy” (“Ethanol”). The NCGA has certainly had a powerful effect on the government’s decisions that favor corn ethanol over other more viable alternatives. The association’s influence is the most crucial reason why the government chose to champion corn ethanol instead of other biofuels. It is also the most difficult factor to overcome in order to shift the focus of money and research away from ethanol, but it needs to be done in order to move forward with alternative fuels.

Government action underlies every reason for the escalation in ethanol production that has occurred since about 1980. On the surface it appears that the development of ethanol has increased due to reasons including the desire for cleaner energy, the decreased used of MTBE, or methyl tertiary butyl ether, and the increase in the price of crude oil.

Behind these factors, however, are government acts and legislation that

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are the ultimate causes of the ethanol boom. From 2000 to 2007, the production of ethanol generally increased by approximately twenty-two percent each year, while during the same period of time the quantity of ethanol plants nearly doubled, to 134 by the end of 2007. The industry had the capability to create 7.9 billion gallons of ethanol per year by the beginning of 2008, according to the Renewable Fuels Association (Byrge and Kliesen 5). Construction to provide for an additional 5.5 billion gallons of capacity was planned after 2008 (Nichols et al 3). Under the Energy Tax Act of 1978, a forty cent per gallon tax exemption was allowed for ethanol, beginning the gradual increase in its production (Tyner 647). This government action marks the start of large scale ethanol production, evidence that Congress caused the initial surge in ethanol production and use.

Twelve years later, more government policy affected the demand and price of ethanol by requiring cleaner burning fuels.

According to Marcelo Dias de Oliveira, an experienced researcher of ethanol as a biofuel, and his colleagues, “The 1990 Clean Air Act Amendments were the first U.S. legislation to consider fuel, along with vehicle technology, as a potential source of emission reductions� (593).

The amendments required gasoline marketed in areas of the country with the worst ozone to contain a certain amount of oxygen in order to decrease air pollution. This is because fuels that release more oxygen as a byproduct and less of other compounds are considered to burn more cleanly (Tyner 648). The higher the oxygen content of a fuel, the better, as long as it does not inhibit the function of the fuel. Originally MTBE was used as the primary oxygenate of gasoline, although ethanol was also used to increase the oxygen content of fuels (Dias de Oliveira, Vaughan, and Rykiel 593). By 1999, thirty percent of U.S. gasoline contained MTBE (Byrge and Kliesen 7). However, it was eventually discovered that MTBE could contaminate groundwater to a dangerous toxicity level, and by 2005, it had been banned as an additive by twenty states (Tyner 648). As a consequence of the phasing out of MTBE, refiners substituted ethanol as an oxygenate of gasoline, resulting in a significant increase in the demand for ethanol and an inevitable shortage. In half a year, ethanol prices shot up to almost $4.25 per gallon in June of 2006 from only $2.00 per gallon in December of 2005, as reported by expert economists Joshua A. Byrge and Kevin L. Kliesen of the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis (7). This price increase reflects the exponential rise in demand for ethanol, and in turn, the surge of production growth. The various governmental acts causing the necessity

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of ethanol have altered prices and affected the ability of ethanol to compete economically against crude oil.

As oil prices have risen over the past decade, the federal government has tried to encourage the United States to become less dependent on crude oil. West Texas Intermediate crude oil is used as a benchmark in oil pricing. Between 2001 and 2007, the cost of a barrel of West Texas Intermediate crude oil increased from about twenty-six dollars per barrel to over seventy-two dollars per barrel. Halfway through 2008, the prices hit $135 per barrel. This increase in price is mostly attributed to an increased demand for crude oil overseas, especially in China and India. As expected, the rise in oil prices has also led to a nearly two-fold increase in the price of gasoline, demonstrated by the fact that gasoline prices in the United States have risen from an average of $2.25 per gallon to nearly $4.00 (5-6). Applying basic economic principles it is correct to assume that over time, as oil prices remain high, the quantity of oil demanded will decrease and the demand for cheaper alternatives will increase. This has in turn caused a newfound necessity for alternative fuels, and the United States government has focused its search on ethanol. The most common combination fuel contains ten percent ethanol and ninety percent gasoline. Most cars are compatible with ethanol blends as high as twenty-two percent ethanol (Dias de Oliveira, Vaughan, and Rykiel 595).

Another blend that can be used only with fuel flex vehicles is E85, eighty-five percent ethanol combined with fifteen percent gasoline (593).

However, gasoline is still less expensive to produce than alternative fuels, despite the high crude oil prices (Byrge and Kliesen 6). This means that ethanol’s economic viability depends largely on the comparative price of crude oil.

Congress is pushing for greater proportions of fuel to contain ethanol, for the corn is domestically grown and the government hopes that the country will be able to become less dependent on crude oil.

Congress is especially motivated by the fact that a substantial amount of imported crude oil comes from countries with a significant level of political volatility (8). The United States relied on imports from foreign countries for forty-five percent of the petroleum used in 2011, a figure that was the lowest since 1995, decreasing after a peak in 2005 (“Oil”).

Whether the dependency will continue to diminish is difficult to predict, but the government is aiming to target the decreases to imports from countries experiencing political instability. Of U.S. imports, over fifty percent came from OPEC and twenty-two percent came from the Persian Gulf (“Oil”). Of these countries, many are substantially politically

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unstable, including Iraq, Libya, and Ecuador. Ari Aisen, a representative for the International Monetary Fund, and Francisco José Veiga, an economics professor at the University of Minho in Portugal, have proved a direct correlation between political instability and volatility of inflation (220). Additionally, they state that “external shocks originated in oil markets affect inflation volatility at home” (Aisen and Veiga 217).

Essentially, this means that oil imported from politically unstable countries has a tendency to increase in price depending on situational changes in the country. These reports make the U.S. dependency on foreign oil all the more troubling. However, increased use of ethanol is only one small factor in the reduction of U.S. dependency on foreign oil, meaning that the government’s focus on ethanol will not have a significant effect on the percentage of petroleum the United States imports. In fact, in a speech before the Senate in 2011, Democratic Senator Dianne Feinstein expressed her opinion that the import tariff on ethanol actually makes the United States more reliant on foreign oil, arguing, “The tariff acts as a trade barrier, [giving] a comparative advantage to oil imports from OPEC” (238). Companies will be more likely to import oil, since it is cheaper and does not have a tariff. The ethanol tariff established by Congress therefore negatively impacts the goal to decrease oil imports and use.

The government has highly subsidized ethanol in an attempt to increase its usage as a biofuel, but the efforts have been largely unsuccessful as well as detrimental to the economy. Many experts agree with David Pimentel, a professor of agriculture at Cornell University, that “corn requires twenty-nine percent more energy to grow and make into ethanol than the energy that ethanol itself can produce” (qtd. in Gillman and Heberlig 100). Clearly this shows that the resources invested in producing ethanol could be put to better use elsewhere. Still, ethanol manufacturing is one of the most highly subsidized energy industries in the United States (Bryce 266). The government has implemented tariffs on imported ethanol as well as tax breaks for ethanol producers since the first tax exemption was established in 1978 (Gillman and Heberlig 105). Since 1978, the subsidy has changed from a tax exemption for the blended fuel to a tax credit for the companies who blend gasoline and ethanol. This subsidy change came under the American Job Creation Act of 2004, which legislated that gasoline blenders would receive a fifty-one cent tax credit per gallon of blended fuel produced (Tyner 646). An import tax of fifty-four cents per gallon on ethanol also encourages U.S. consumers to avoid imports and buy locally (Byrge and Kliesen 7). Joshua Byrge and Kevin Kliesen state that

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“the federal government [is] mandating a five-fold increase in ethanol production by 2022” (5). The Energy Policy Act of 2005 originally mandated that in 2008, 5.4 billion gallons of biofuels be combined with gasoline. By 2012, this amount was required to increase to 7.5 billion gallons. However, with the Energy Independence and Security Act of 2007 (EISA), Congress raised the requirement for 2008 to nine billion gallons and extended the decree to 2022, when thirty-six billion gallons of biofuel must be blended with gasoline (7-8). However, according to the U.S. Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works, this mandate will soon lead to more ethanol being produced than can actually be used, because few vehicles are compatible with ethanol blends greater than ten percent ethanol (“Providing”). Reputable Senator Dianne Feinstein argued against ethanol subsidies, declaring, “The subsidy is wasteful and duplicative. It does very little to promote the use of ethanol, which oil companies already must use under current law [dictated by] the renewable fuels standard” (238). In 2011, the subsidy cost taxpayers almost six billion dollars; the subsidy has astonishingly totaled over 22.6 billion dollars since its establishment (237). In addition, experts estimate costs from the subsidy to surpass 500 billion dollars by 2017 if policies continue unchanged (Glozer 162). This extreme increase in cost and subsidies has resulted in many problems for farmers and for the United States economy as a whole.

Despite government efforts, ethanol has never become a highly popular form of fuel because of its many drawbacks, especially the problems its increased production has caused in the economy. By requiring more corn to be grown through acts such as the Energy Independence and Security Act, the government has caused the price of corn as well as other farm products to rise (Byrge and Kliesen 6). While corn growers can earn more for their crop, the higher prices certainly have a negative impact on consumers and other farmers. The subsidies primarily benefit just 270,000 owners and operators of farms in just ten states in the Midwest (Glozer 162). Other farmers, especially those running smaller farms, are significantly harmed due to drastic increases in corn-based animal feed. Offsetting the greater revenues for corn growers, the additional acres of land that must be dedicated to growing corn make it more difficult for farmers to produce other crops (Glozer 42). Fewer acres of land are available for the cultivation of other crops or for the raising of animals. This means the prices in these other industries will also increase, hurting the consumer. Corn products are crucial to the United States economy, so as corn prices go up because of demand for ethanol, so too do prices of other essential, commonly used products

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(Glozer 42-44). Prices are significantly affected because, since 2006, the average annual price of corn has increase by 225 percent (Feinstein 238).

In addition, a larger corn crop subsequently hurts farmers because growing corn causes terrible soil erosion and quickly depletes nutrients in the soil. In fact, the rate of soil erosion created by cultivating corn is eighteen times faster than the rate of soil formation (Dias de Oliveira, Vaughan, and Rykiel 599). Biodiversity is also threatened by large scale ethanol production because vast crops of corn grown in a monoculture detract from the biodiversity of the area and also require more fertilizer and pesticides to avoid disease, thereby harming surrounding wildlife (Committee 229). For these reasons, dedicating more land to corn is ultimately more expensive for all farmers and for consumers. It has been reported that “the stated goals of the ethanol subsidy are to promote the diffusion of ethanol and to support farmers, who are believed to gain considerably through widespread adoption of ethanol produced from corn� (Saitone, Sexton, and Sexton 169). However, the above economic analysis clearly determines otherwise: the increase in ethanol production hurts farmers who are not large scale corn growers and negatively impacts the economy for everyday consumers.

Some proponents of ethanol believe that the government’s policies of encouraging ethanol use have been beneficial to the industry and that more investments should be made to increase the use of ethanol even further. It is true that greater use of ethanol will make a small contribution to the decrease in the burning of fossil fuels, also lowering greenhouse gas emissions (Byrge and Kliesen 7). However, ethanol only accounted for 2.6 percent of total United States fuel consumption in 2007, and while that percentage has risen in past years, ethanol still accounts for an insignificant portion of fuel usage to make any meaningful difference in the amount of pollution coming from fossil fuels (Gillman and Heberlig 105). Ethanol is widely available in the Midwest where much of the corn is grown and where ethanol production typically occurs, and it must be transported to reach other regions. This is especially important to note because the majority of the U.S. population is concentrated near the coast. To make ethanol more viable, Congress is investing money to consider the feasibility of construction of an ethanol pipeline to transport the fuel to other areas of the country (Bryce 186).

Unfortunately, ethanol corrodes traditional pipelines, so more expensive pipelines would need to be built in order to make ethanol available to a greater number of people (Gillman and Heberlig 106). In addition, only fuel flex vehicles can utilize fuels with high concentrations of ethanol.

Few consumers are willing to invest in these special but expensive

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vehicles, so even if ethanol was more widely available, its demand would stay at relatively the same level (Dias de Oliveira, Vaughan, and Rykiel 593). Moreover, ethanol cannot be used in jet fuel because its energy density is not great enough to provide sufficient power.

Considering that jet fuel constitutes nearly half of the government’s energy use makes the fact that ethanol is incompatible in aviation quite significant (Lavelle). Similarly, some consumers, especially those in the Corn Belt, complain about no longer having access to gasoline without ethanol, because even in smaller percentages, ethanol can cause problems to engines, carburetors, and the proper functioning of vehicles (“Providing”). One Florida resident damaged his boat engine because he was unable to procure gasoline that did not contain ethanol. It has been reported that ethanol can harm boat engines as well as other components of a boat such as the fuel system itself and fiberglass gas tanks (“Florida”). In this way, ethanol can serve as an inconvenience to U.S. residents.

While corn ethanol is regularly argued against, some critics turn to cellulosic ethanol as the fuel of the future. This alternate type of ethanol is made from any and all common plant waste, including straw, grass, wood chips, corn stalks, and sawdust (Bryce 179). However, to produce enough cellulosic ethanol to replace just ten percent of United States oil consumption, which is about 320 billion gallons of oil per year, approximately 485 million tons of biomass would be required (183).

Obtaining that amount of biomass is simply impossible, so cellulosic ethanol is arguably just as unfeasible as corn ethanol. A third type of ethanol, produced largely in Brazil, is sugarcane ethanol. In fact, Brazil was the first country to produce ethanol on a large scale (Dias de Oliveira, Vaughan, and Rykiel 593). Research shows that sugarcane ethanol is more viable than corn ethanol, because it generates more energy than it takes to produce it. However, this type of ethanol is not viable for production in the United States because the country’s climate is not at all suited for large scale cultivation of sugarcane (Dias de Oliveira, Vaughan, and Rykiel 593). Although it may be possible that with large investments in research and improvements in technology corn or cellulosic ethanol could someday become viable, the government must consider the tradeoffs of taking this path and the possibility that other renewable energy sources may be better investments. Wallace E. Tyner, a professor in the Department of Agricultural Economics at Purdue University, reasons, “It is likely that the rapid growth of corn ethanol will cease, and under most assumptions, corn ethanol will peak around 15 billion gallons. Beyond that level, it is likely that the price of

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corn will be high enough to choke off further growth in the industry�

(Tyner 653). If growth of the corn ethanol industry does diminish as Tyner predicts, ethanol will never be able to make a significant dent in the amount of gasoline or other nonrenewable resources consumed by the United States. The extensive effort made to build the industry will have been wasted when it proves to be ultimately unsuccessful.

The government’s fixation on ethanol is not helping the United States become more environmentally friendly or less dependent on foreign oil. In fact it is doing just the opposite. Ethanol has too many tradeoffs to profitably compete with fossil fuels, at least at this point in its technological development. The government has exhausted all that corn ethanol has to offer for the time being and needs to turn its attention to other potential industries that hold more promise than corn ethanol for the future of the United States. We have invested heavily in ethanol infrastructure. Current plants can continue to produce ethanol and gasoline blends as other possibilities are explored, but expansion of the industry should be halted. Ethanol subsidies should be reduced over time, to save money without creating any drastic consequences from a sudden change. Refineries are already legally incentivized to blend gasoline and ethanol. Subsidies were needed to help jumpstart the industry, but they are no longer necessary to continue production. The government should also strongly consider abolishing the tariff on ethanol, enabling sugarcane ethanol from Brazil to be imported, allowing a much more viable type of ethanol to be used in fuel. There are a number of viable options for the government to alter its policies.

Changes need to be made before more money and resources are wasted in an investment in a biofuel that has no more to offer.

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Works Cited

Aisen, Ari, and Francisco JosĂŠ Veiga. "Political Instability and Inflation Volatility." Public Choice 135.3/4 (2008): 207-23. JSTOR. Web. 30 Nov. 2012.

Bryce, Robert. Power Hungry: The Myths of "Green" Energy and the Real Fuels of the Future. New York: PublicAffairs, 2010. Print.

Byrge, Joshua A., and Kevin L. Kliesen. "Ethanol: Economic Gain or Drain?" The Regional Economist July 2008: 4-9. Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis. Web. 10 Oct. 2012.

Committee on Economic and Environmental Impacts of Increasing Biofuels Production. Renewable Fuel Standard: Potential Economic and Environmental Effects of U.S. Biofuel Policy. Washington: National Academies, 2011. ebrary. Web. 10 Oct. 2012.

Dias de Oliveira, Marcelo E., Burton E. Vaughan, and Edward J. Rykiel, Jr. "Ethanol as Fuel: Energy, Carbon Dioxide Balances, and Ecological Footprint." BioScience 55.7 (2005): 593-602. JSTOR. Web. 12 Sept. 2012.

"Ethanol." National Corn Growers Association. National Corn Growers Association, 2012. Web. 1 Dec. 2012.

Feinstein, Dianne. "Should Congress Vote the Ethanol Blender Tax Credit." Congressional Digest 1 Oct. 2011: 236+. Academic Search Premier. Web. 10 Oct. 2012.

"Florida Boat Owner Sues Over Damage from Ethanol." The Progressive Farmer. DTN, 2008. Web. 29 Nov. 2012.

Gillman, Jeff, and Eric Heberlig. How the Government Got in Your Backyard: Superweeds, Frankenfoods, Lawn Wars, and the (nonpartisan) Truth about Environmental Policies. Portland: Timber, 2011. Print.

Glozer, Ken G. Corn Ethanol: Who Pays? Who Benefits? Stanford: Hoover Institution, 2011. Print.

Hill, Jason, et al. "Environmental, Economic, and Energetic Costs and Benefits of Biodiesel and Ethanol Biofuels." Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America 103.30 (2006): 11206-10. JSTOR. Web. 05 Sept. 2012.

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Lavelle, Marianne. "As Jet Fuel Prices Soar, a Green Option Nears the Runway." National Geographic. National Geographic Society, 20 May 2011. Web. 2 Dec. 2012.

Nichols, Nancy N., et al. "Production of Ethanol from Corn and Sugarcane." Bioenergy. Ed. Judy D. Wall, Caroline S. Harwood, and Arnold Demain. Washington: ASM, 2008. 3-15. ebrary. Web. 5 Oct. 2012.

"Oil: Crude and Petroleum Products." eia. U. S. Energy Information Administration, 4 Oct. 2012. Web. 29 Nov. 2012.

"Providing Responsible Oversight of Federal Ethanol Policy." U.S. Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works. United States.

Senate., n.d. Web. 8 Oct. 2012.

Saitone, Tina L., Richard J. Sexton, and Steven E. Sexton. "Market Power in the Corn Sector: How Does It Affect the Impacts of the Ethanol Subsidy?" Journal of Agricultural and Resource Economics 33.2 (2008): 169-94. JSTOR. Web. 21 Oct. 2012.

Tyner, Wallace E. "The U.S. Ethanol and Biofuels Boom: Its Origins, Current Status, and Future Prospects." BioScience 58.7 (2008): 64653. JSTOR. Web. 21 Oct. 2012.

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2013 WORLD HISTORY CONTEST – FIRST PLACE Rahul Basu Class of 2015 Fairlawn, Ohio

A World Failure: Ignoring Genocide

In 1994, Rwanda was torn apart by a bloody massacre, the likes of which had not been seen since the extermination of the Jews by the Nazis. In a three month span, roughly 800,000 lives were brutally hacked apart. Rwanda’s majority ethnic group, the Hutu, systematically moved through houses, towns, and villages, slaughtering Tutsis, Rwanda’s minority ethnic group. The Hutu heartlessly murdered men, women, and children in their homes and in the streets of Rwanda. They raped wives, while mutilating their husbands. They snatched babies from the arms of mothers and executed them in cold blood. Rose Mukamwiza recalls the horrific events that took place, “Claire, my older girl, saw me beg not to be raped, and then watched as I was raped” (Totten and Ubaldo 31). She broke down in tears, adding, “Then the four men all raped me in front of my children” (Totten and Ubaldo 31). The four men, moments before, had killed Rose’s two sons in a ditch. These kinds of despicable acts became commonplace during the genocide’s span. Rose was by no means alone. Across Rwanda, 10% of the population was subject to torture and maiming too gruesome to imagine.

Violence became a way of life, and killing became a national pastime.

As the genocide raged, the world took note. “Another Holocaust may just have slipped by, hardly noticed,” Herman Cohen, the former Assistant Secretary of State to Africa wrote (Jehl). His characterization of the genocide as another Holocaust is accurate, but the genocide was hardly unnoticed. In fact, the Hutu were not the only participants in the genocide. It may seem unimaginable that this caliber of violence could be permitted to continue. However, the international community knew the genocide was in progress. They refused to provide any concrete aid to the Tutsi or move to stop the Hutu. Their inaction effectively made them complicit participants in the genocide. The U.S. avoided action by refusing to acknowledge the killings as genocide, allowing them to

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escape the dictates of the 1948 Genocide Convention requiring them to intervene. The United Nations blatantly ignored warnings of an imminent genocide and withdrew forces in Rwanda when the genocide started. Despite these obvious attempts to remain uninvolved, the United Nations and the U.S. did not have the biggest impact on Rwanda.

The biggest international player in the Rwanda Genocide was France. In their case, it was not their inactions which contributed to the genocide, but rather their actions. France’s involvement in the genocide was a continuance of previous relations with the Hutu regime, as during the genocide, France aided and armed the Hutu killers, as well as facilitated their escape from Rwanda. For this reason, France stands out as the most culpable of the Western powers in their response to one of the worst African crises in the 20th century.

The Rwandan genocide was the product of a feud between Rwanda’s two ethnic groups: the Hutu and the Tutsi. The two ethnic groups are similar in language, tradition, and location, yet different in appearance, where the Tutsi are often taller, thinner, and lighter than the Hutu. Tensions between the two have dated back to the 1400s, when the Tutsi moved south from Ethiopia into Hutu territory. Since then, animosity between the Hutu and Tutsi has escalated considerably. Upon colonization in 1916, the Belgians declared the Tutsi racially superior to the Hutus due to their lighter skin, a European value. Tutsis subsequently enjoyed better education, jobs, and treatment than the Hutu (“Rwanda: How the Genocide”). Pent up Hutu resentment at this preferential treatment boiled over in 1959, when they rioted, killing over 20,000 Tutsis and forcing many more into exile in surrounding countries.

When Rwanda gained independence from the Belgians in 1962, the status quo shifted as the majority Hutu took power back from the Tutsi, who were no longer preferentially treated. Over the following decades, the Tutsi were scapegoats, and treated worse in comparison to the Hutu (“Rwanda: How the Genocide”). Juvenal Habyarimana, the Rwandan President, harshly constrained Tutsi education opportunities and denied Tutsi access back into Rwanda, stating that “pressures on land made refugees’ return impractical” (Moghalu 26). His actions only served to further infuriate the Tutsi, and gave them more cause to overthrow him.

In the years leading up to the genocide, Tutsi refugees in Uganda started forming the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), led by Paul Kagame.

The main goals of the RPF were to overthrown Habyarimana and regain the right to enter their homeland. Habyarimana’s refusal to let them leave exile angered them to the point of inevitable violence (Totten and Ubaldo 7). Habyarimana had been losing popularity due to economic

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downturns, and used this new gathering of Tutsis to regain support from discordant Hutus in Rwanda and turn them against the Tutsi (“Rwanda: How the Genocide”). This Hutu versus Tutsi conflict boiled over in 1990, as Habyarimana and the Rwandan Armed forces (RAF) held off the Kagame led RPF in what would later be known as the Rwanda Civil War. After a three year conflict, the two sides signed an attempted peace treaty in 1993, the Arusha Accords, whose aim was to create a power sharing government between the RPF and Habyarimana’s government (“Rwanda: How the Genocide”). After an uneasy year, Rwanda once more exploded into bloodbath, as the Rwanda Genocide unfolded before the world’s eyes.

On April 6th 1994, Juvenal Habyarimana’s plane was shot down above Kigali Airport. Many believe the Hutu shot down the plane in an attempt to fuel their planned genocide. The death of Habyarimana indeed proved to be the catalyst for the Rwanda Genocide, sparking disastrous consequences which would impact millions (“Rwanda: How the Genocide”). The genocide, which started in the capital city Kigali, was planned and executed by men who wanted to stay in power, and who expolited ethnic tensions to do so (“Rwanda, Remembered” 2004). The presidential guard initiated the slaughter of political opposition, moderate Hutus, and Tutsis, and soon, many Hutu joined the genocide. Politicians, businessmen, and military officials were early participants, but they were soon helped by a militia group about 30,000 strong, dubbed the “Interahamwe,” or “those who attack together.”

Military personnel, including police officers, encouraged the genocide.

Soldiers bribed ordinary citizens, offering the land of any Tutsi they killed, food, and money. They even forced some Hutu citizens into slaughtering Tutsi neighbors (“Rwanda: How the Genocide”).

According to Kingsley Moghalu, author of Rwanda’s Genocide: The Politics of Global Justice, five and a half-lives were taken per minute, or three hundred and thirty three murders an hour (30). Machetes, grenades, farm tools, and guns worked in tandem, weaving bloody trails through Rwanda’s streets.

In the background, Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines (RTLM), a government approved radio station, used hate speech to encourage the Hutu to kill. RTLM would direct killers to areas where Tutsis were seeking refuge. “On the radio, RTLM, we heard that the government was encouraging people to come and kill the Tutsi gathered at that church,” one survivor remembers (Totten and Ubaldo 118).

Churches and sewers became hiding places. Tutsis huddled in close

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quarters, in dirty, hazardous conditions, praying that they would not be found. Emmanuel Murangira describes the scene: “Imagine forty thousand people; it smelled horrible and the diarrhea attracted many flies everywhere. No one could wash and people became infested with lice” (Totten and Ubaldo 83). They waited for one hundred agonizing days, as the genocide raged on. Finally, it came to a bitter end, as the RPF fought their way through Rwanda and captured Kigali. All that was left was a country beyond repair, thousands of rotting bodies, and an international presence scrambling to point fingers.

During the genocide, both the United States and the United Nations had an intractable desire to remain uninvolved, despite a moral, if not legal obligation to act. The 1948 Genocide Convention, ratified by the United Nations, states: “Recognizing that at all periods of history genocide has inflicted great losses on humanity; and being convinced that, in order to liberate mankind from such an odious scourge, international co-operation is required” (“Genocide Convention” United Nations). Article One says that genocide is “a crime under international law which they undertake to prevent and to punish” (“Genocide Convention” United Nations). Genocide is defined in Article Two as “Killing members of the group; Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part” (“Genocide Convention” United Nations). The Rwanda genocide is a perfect model of the Convention’s description, and as such, should have been prevented by the international community.

Before the genocide, the United States and United Nations both had ample warning of its likelihood, and when it started, privately acknowledged that there was in fact genocide in progress. On January 11, 1994, Romeo Dallaire, commander of the Rwandan peacekeeping force UNAMIR, sent a warning to the United Nations headquarters in New York, relaying information he had received from an informant. He informed them of the claim that Hutus “had been ordered to register all the Tutsi in Kigali,” and that “[h]e suspects it is for their extermination” (Power “Bystanders to Genocide”). He also warned of a plot to kill United Nations peacekeepers, Parliament members, and the existence of arms caches (Ferroggiaro “The US and the Genocide”). Dallaire’s fax was shown to the U.S., French, and Belgian ambassadors in Rwanda, yet the three governments who saw the cable decided not to address it (Shawcross 21). Despite the chance of fatal consequences, Dallaire’s urgent warnings were ignored. “I thought that the neophyte meant well, but I questioned whether he knew what he was talking about,” stated

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Lieutenant Colonel Tony Marley (Power, “Bystanders to Genocide”).

The disregard for Dallaire’s forewarning proved cataclysmic, as the genocide started only three months later.

In order to minimize press criticism, the U.S. made active attempts to discourage the use of the word ‘genocide’ in the press and public. A 1994 New York Times article’s headline reads: “Officials Told to Avoid Calling Rwanda Killings ‘Genocide’” (Jehl). According to David Rawson, the United States Ambassador to Rwanda, a responsible Government doesn’t “just go around hollering ‘genocide.’“ Instead, “[The government] say[s] that acts of genocide may have occurred and they need to be investigated” (Jehl). The U.S. even blocked the use of the word genocide in a statement made by the UN Security council’s president, instead replacing it with the words “crime punishable under international law” (Moghalu 33). On April 21 st, at the U.S.’s urge, the United Nations Security council voted to withdraw the main UNAMIR force (Ferroggiaro “The US and the Genocide”). Instead of strengthening the already miniscule force of 2,500 in Rwanda, it was cut to 270 soldiers, effectively ending the weak peacekeeping attempt in Rwanda (Murigande 7). In 1998, Bill Clinton would later tell those who lost parents, siblings and children in the genocide, ‘‘We in the United States and the world community did not do as much as we could have and should have done to try to limit what occurred in Rwanda in 1994’’ (Bennet). Clinton only reaffirmed what was already apparent. It’s a disappointment that Clinton, the most powerful man in the U.S., chose to reach that conclusion four years too late.

France’s involvement in the genocide is often overlooked in the wake of the United States and United Nations, which led to the French being labeled as “silent accomplices” (Wallis 1). France’s heavy participation in the Rwanda Genocide comes as no surprise. France and Rwanda, a former French colony, have been allied since the two signed a military assistance agreement in 1975. France’s use of Rwanda however, was not for military purposes. French policy makers believed that in order to be a prominent country in the international scene, France must have direct connections to African allies (“Leave None to Tell” Human Rights Watch). The ideal African ally would be a Francophone country, and French-speaking Rwanda, a politically and economically influential country in their region, fit the bill (“Leave None to Tell” Human Rights Watch).

France’s first intervened in Rwanda when Francois Mitterrand, France’s president at the time, received a panicked phone call from Juvenal Habyarimana on October, 1990. Habyarimana requested help,

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“pleading for urgent French military intervention” because Rwanda was being invaded by the Tutsi-led RPF (Rwanda Patriotic Front) from Uganda (Wallis 24). The French had an incentive to intervene, as the RPF led a perceived “Anglophone”, or English-speaking invasion. The French feared that francophone Rwanda would be the “first domino to fall” to an anglophone power, and subsequently, France would lose its primary ally in the region and its influence in Africa (Wallis 25).

Mitterrand decided to “send old man Habyarimana a few troops” to “bail him out” (Wallis 24). Thus, Operation Noroit was launched.

A French contingent of 600 elite paratroopers, as well as a military assistance mission was deployed to Rwanda intent upon aiding Habyarimana and the Hutu against the RPF (Wallis 49). In addition to the personnel, France sent arms, including 60, 81, and 120 millimeter mortars and 105 millimeter light artillery guns (Goose and Smyth 89).

France would later step up its weapons deliveries to Rwanda by 1993, sending up to 20 tons of arms, which was “enough to cut into the stocks of the French army itself” (“Leave None to Tell” Human Rights Watch).

The French soldiers had another mission as well, to train Rwandan Army members in marksmanship and tactics. Among those the French “instructors” taught was the Interahamwe militia group, future perpetrators of the Rwandan Genocide (“Leave None to Tell” Human Rights Watch). Pierre, a lance corporal in the RAF, said that “There were French there, they had ‘support rifles’ that they fixed and then let us handle. . . . They’d taught us and they could leave us on the field and watch us get on with it” (Wallis 49). However, he remembers the French doing more than just advise the troops. “It sometimes happened they took part themselves, like when we fought between Muhabura and Gahinga,” he added (Wallis 49). There have been allegations that the French, in addition to participating in battles, also interrogated RPF prisoners, 17 of whom attested to this allegation in witness statements (Wallis 50). France’s intervention in the Rwanda Civil War tipped the balance in the favor of Habyarimana’s Hutu regime, and would set the stage for further participation in the genocide.

On April 10th, the onset of the genocide, France’s first response was to launch Operation Amaryllis, an evacuation of French nationals.

Romeo Dallaire viewed the mission with skepticism, asking “Were the French going to get involved once again with the fight or were they really only here to evacuate their expatriates?” (Wallis 86). His question was answered when Poncet, a colonel overseeing Amaryllis, told him that “he was here only to evacuate expatriates and ‘white people’” (Wallis 86). France’s evacuation of its nationals turned out to be very

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suspicious. France seemed to have incredible influence over the RAF, and “they had no problem gaining control” (Grünfeld 173). In addition, French soldiers had brought a plane filled with weapons, which was delivered straight to the RAF. The ease of the arms exchange led to the conclusion that the delivery had been planned prior to the Operation (Grünfeld 173). During the evacuation, the French had no trouble navigating through the streets of Kigali due to their apparent truce with the RAF, and they showed indifference when confronted with acts of genocide. Els de Temmerman, a Belgian journalist, recalls “I was in a French convoy. At some point, we witnessed the murder of six persons in front of us. The journalists begged the soldiers to intervene; we were crying. ‘It is not our mandate’, one of the soldiers replied” (Wallis 87).

Their mandate seemed to be very subjective, as French troops evacuated more than just their expatriates. Among the first to be evacuated by the French were Hutus (Grünfeld 173). Among those the French flew out were ex-Habyarimana officials, members of the Hutu presidential family, and members of Akazu, an extremist Hutu organization (Wallis 102). France continued to support their “former” allies in the midst of genocide, and a supposedly mandated evacuation of expatriates. As French transport planes left Kigali, the streets darkened with spilled blood. The genocide continued, and France did not look back.

Nearly two months into the genocide, on June 21 st, France decided that it was time to act directly. Minister of Foreign affairs Alan Juppe released a statement saying: We have a real duty to intervene in Rwanda. The time to watch the massacre passively is over, we must take the initiative . . .

France is ready with its main European and African partners to prepare an intervention on the ground to put an end to the massacres and to protect the populations threatened with extermination . . . France will live up to its responsibilities.

(Wallis 123) France’s intervention was codenamed Operation Turquoise, and its objective was to maintain a safe zone in south-west Rwanda, where Tutsi could seek refuge and protection. This decision was met with incredible skepticism from the international community, skepticism which would eventually prove to be justified. Murigande describes it as “the ultimate act of international cynicism” to have the main supporter of the regime committing the genocide to fly in and intervene (7). Gérard Prunier, an African analyst, viewed the timing of this intervention as suspicious.

According to him, France had just spent 40 days “silently watching” a genocide, and only when media pressure became “irresistible” and

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South Africa threatened military intervention did France decide to show a “conscience” (Wallis 123). The Organization of African Unity saw it as a “blatant” move to attempt to save the French’s power base in Africa (Wallis 125). France took too long in its response to the genocide for the operation to be considered anything but suspicious. In addition, it seems far too unlikely that, as former allies of the Hutu, France would step in and take any measure against the killers.

The reaction of the two ethnic groups in Rwanda was not expected. The French were supposedly intervening to protect the Tutsi, yet the Tutsi did not support Operation Turquoise. The incoming Tutsi RPF, fighting to end the genocide and save their ethnic brothers and sisters, viewed France’s motives with concern. They believed that France was supporting the Hutu again, and therefore saw the French as enemies. Tutsi priests wrote letters to their superiors, stating that to them, Turquoise wasn’t a “humanitarian” operation, but a “cynical enterprise” (Grünfeld 152). Why had France done nothing in the two months of bloodshed which preceded their intervention, despite being thoroughly informed on the situation? France had “arrived too late for nothing” (Wallis 125). On the other hand, Hutus reacted jubilantly to the news of Operation Turquoise. Upon hearing the news, Hutu militia men and soldiers of the Rwandan army celebrated. The French were their “saviors”, sent to keep them in power as they had in years past (Wallis 129). RTLM, the main source of Hutu genocide-fueling propaganda, broadcasted that the French were on their way to assist in the fight against the RPF: “We should be ready to welcome them [the French].

Let’s be ready . . . to welcome our French guests; there is no other way to get about it. I think that we should smile when we meet them in the street” (Wallis 134). The initial skepticism of Operation Turquoise had turned out to be justified. As many had thought, the former FrenchHutu alliance seemed to be still alive, at least in the eyes of the Hutu.

The Hutu reaction to the French arrival should have been a bloodstained, red flag to the rest of the world.

Operation Turquoise would be launched from the southern town of Cyangugu before expanding to larger northern regions. The operation was launched by France from Zaire, involving about 2,500 French marines and Foreign Legion soldiers as well as gunships and vehicles. French troops and their equipment were flown into Zaire by means of a fleet of massive air cargo ships. Cumulatively, the French deployed 2924 troops, 510 support staff, and air and logistical cover (Wallis 129). The French troops were made up of unnaturally powerful elite special forces including commandos, air force commandos, marines,

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secret service police, and special service operatives all sent on the “humanitarian” peacekeeping operation. However, despite the heavily armed war personnel on hand, the Operation failed in its main task: protecting the survivors they were supposedly sent to rescue. There were very few trucks in the French contingent which could efficiently move the Tutsis seeking refuge to safety. Because of this, most Tutsis who could have been saved were killed by Hutu hunters due to the French inability to protect them (Wallis 131). France’s “rescue effort” was flawed, bringing their true purpose in Rwanda into question once more.

In addition to the failure to protect Tutsi, France once again aided the Hutu directly and indirectly during the duration of Operation Turquoise. The safe zone which the French established served as a safe escape route for Hutu murderers fleeing Rwanda after the genocide, where even today they still cause problems with Rwandan security (Murigande 7). The French’s direct participation came in the form of unresponsiveness and alleged participation in the genocide. When first informed of the mission, most French soldiers viewed their brief as a supporting force deployed to help the Rwandan army to counter the RPF advance, and “break their back” (Wallis 124). “The French let the Interahamwe kill with impunity,” Tomson Mubiliji, a former Interahamwe member says. Janvier, a leading Hutu militia man adds, “they were pleased with us and never did anything to hinder the work of those who were doing all those [killings]” (Wallis 140). It comes as no surprise that the French would support their allies and former pupils, while turning a blind eye and letting them commit acts of genocide with indifference.

In addition with complying with the RAF and Interahamwe, the French also armed the killers. “They [the French] entered at night over the bridge with their jeeps and equipment. They said there wasn’t any equipment left [for our work]; they supplied us with rifles, ammunition, grenades and all the rest,” says Janvier (Wallis 130). There have been allegations that the French took part in the genocide, raping and killing Tutsis. Auréa Mukakalisa, a Tutsi survivor, recalls, “I saw French soldiers themselves kill Tutsis using gleaming big knives” (Wallis 140).

Janvier tells the tale of the French soldiers in camp, saying that “A Frenchman would make [a Tutsi woman] an object of his pleasure, and then, shortly after, he’d abandon her and take up another” (Wallis 140).

There was nothing that the Tutsi could do, because they were dependent on the French for any hope of protection. “It was the summer of the genocide . . . . One of the three soldiers broke my little finger, threw me on the bed, and raped me. When the first one was done, the second

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raped me as well. The third was looking; he didn’t seem interested even if I was crying” (Moullot). This disturbing account describes what happened to Irene, a Tutsi woman who was raped by French soldiers.

Rwandan women have come together to file charges of ‘complicity to genocide and/or crimes against humanity’ against the French forces (Wallis 140). The genocidal spirit was so apparent in Rwanda that it pulled the French into committing similarly atrocious crimes. France’s involvement during Operation Turquoise turned out to be one which complied with and facilitated violence against Tutsis. As Beatrice puts it, “they brought us nothing but grief, and I certainly can’t say that they did anything positive for us at all. They didn’t come to our aid” (Wallis 138).

Alan Juppe’s words at the onset of the Operation, “France will live up to its responsibilities,” ring hollow as the French failed to stop an atrocious string of crime.

In an attempt to reconcile with Rwanda, the United Nations formed the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. Its goal is to seek justice and punish those who murdered and raped in the genocide.

Trials continue to this day, as former Hutu militiamen are tried one by one. However, there is a notable absence of Frenchmen being tried on the tribunal. Given the extent of the French involvement in the genocide, this is incredibly suspect. Regardless of being directly accused of participation in the genocide by the widely publicized Mucyo report, an independent commission ordered by the Rwandan government to investigate France’s role in the genocide, nothing has been done. Thirtythree French politicians were explicitly named in the extensive 331-page report, including Mitterrand, and despite urges to bring them to justice, they still walk free (Harris 26). The fact that such a report was even commissioned reveals the widespread knowledge that France was heavily involved. The Mucyo report, in addition to directly naming French officials, also reveals testimony from numerous witnesses. It leveled accusations against the French, such as, “French soldiers themselves directly were involved in assassinations of Tutsis and Hutus accused of hiding Tutsis,” and, “French soldiers committed many rapes, specifically of Tutsi women” (Harris 26). In spite of these harsh indictments the French simply dismissed the report, and the international community followed suit.

The Rwanda Genocide capped off a bloody twentieth century.

As bodies piled up in the streets of Rwanda, the international community turned away, leaving Rwanda to tear itself apart. “As the situation advanced, the need for some sort of a neutral international force—which is what the peacekeeping forces were—the need was

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greater than ever, because the tinderbox was very fragile at that time. So I think that it was even more important that the international community remained involved” said Joyce Leader, in an interview about the past genocide (“Interview: Joyce Leader”). These empty statements are all that can be offered, along with endless, regret-filled apologies. Though the United Nations, and United States broke the Genocide Convention of 1948 and France aided and abetted the perpetrators, no one was brought to justice. One might ask, “How did the world’s leaders fail in such a critical time?” The answer is that they did not realize that actions speak louder than words. In France’s case, their actions spoke loudest, and were the most troubling of all.

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Works Cited

Bennet, James. “Clinton in Africa: The Overview; Clinton Declares U.S., with World, Failed Rwandans.” The New York Times 26 Mar. 1998: n. pag. Web. 4 Nov. 2012.

“Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide.” United Nations. United Nations, n.d. Web. 14 Dec. 2012.

Ferroggiaro, William, ed. “The US and the Genocide in Rwanda 1994: Evidence of Inaction.” National Security Archive. National Security Archive, 20 Aug. 2001. Web. 4 Nov. 2012.

Goose, Stephen D., and Frank Smyth. “Arming Genocide in Rwanda.”

Foreign Affairs 73.5 (1994): 86-89. JSTOR. Web. 3 Nov. 2012.

Grünfeld, Fred. The Failure to Prevent Genocide in Rwanda: The Role of Bystanders. Leiden: Martinus Nihoff, 2007. Ebrary. Web. 2 Nov. 2012.

Harris, Ed. “33 French Leaders ‘Party to Genocide in Rwanda.’“ Evening Standard 6 Aug. 2008: 26. Newspaper Source. Web. 4 Nov. 2012.

“Interview: Joyce Leader.” Frontline. PBS, n.d. Web. 1 Dec. 2012.

Jehl, Douglas. “Officials Told to Avoid Calling Rwanda Killings ‘Genocide.’“ The New York Times. New York Times Company, n.d. Web. 4 Dec. 2012.

“Leave None to Tell the Story: Genocide in Rwanda.” Human Rights Watch. Human Rights Watch, n.d. Web. 10 Mar. 2013.

Moghalu, Kingsley. Rwanda’s Genocide: The Politics of Global Justice. New York City: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. Print.

Moullot, Pauline. “Rwanda: France’s Long Silence.” World Policy Blog.

World Policy Institute, n.d. Web. 15 Mar. 2013.

“Mucyo Report: The Role of France in the 1994 Rwandan Genocide.”

Assata Shakur. N.p., n.d. Web. 10 Mar. 2013.

Murigande, Charles. “Lessons Learned from the 1994 Rwanda Genocide.” Mediterranean Quarterly 19.2 (2008): 5-10. Academic S. Web. 3 Nov. 2012.

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Power, Samantha. “Bystanders to Genocide.” The Atlantic Monthly Sept.

2001: 84-108. Mount Holyoke. Web. 15 Nov. 2012.

“Rwanda: How the Genocide Happened.” BBC News. BBC, 17 May 2011.

Web. 16 Nov. 2012.

“Rwanda, Remembered; Lessons of a Genocide.” The Economist (US) 27 Mar. 2004: n. pag. Gale World History in Context. Web. 4 Nov. 2012.

Shawcross, William. “The Deadly Sin of Staying Neutral.” Newsweek 27 Dec. 1999: 21. Global NewsBank. Web. 4 Nov. 2012.

Totten, Samuel, and Rafiki Ubaldo, eds. We Cannot Forget. Piscataway: Rutgers UP, 2011. Ebrary. Web. 11 Mar. 2013.

Wallis, Andrew. Silent Accomplice : The Untold Story of France’s Role in the Rwandan Genocide. London: n.p., 2007. ebrary. Web. 10 Feb. 2013.

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“THIS I BELIEVE”

MORNING MEETING CHAPEL SPEECHES 2013 - 2014 124

FEBRUARY 25, 2013* Ben Griffin Senior Frederick, Maryland

I don’t know if any of you remember what Rob Stephens said when he gave his “This I Believe” speech, but he said sometimes life is just unfair. Plain and simple, life will smack you in the face sometimes.

Whether it be extra sprints at football practice, someone stealing your wallet, or your mother collapsing in front of you during the last moments of her life, life will just smack you in the face sometimes. And that’s the thing we, as people, have to deal with. Learning to roll with the punches is the first step to living a successful life, and the second one is learning to find or create second chances. I believe that everyone deserves a second chance, and I am in front of you today to tell you about the second chance that I was given to set my life straight.

I’m sure most of you all know I am an avid University of Virginia fan. In fact, if you take the time to walk by North Hall on Brick Row and look up, I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to tell which room is mine. I feel like I was raised on the grounds there. My senior page even includes a picture of me wearing a UVA shirt taken around fifteen or sixteen years ago, when I was two or maybe three years old. But back to the narrative: I went into my senior year last year thinking all was well and not really caring about much, only my friends, my sports, living up senior year, and not really focusing on my studies as a responsible teenager should have been doing. Obviously, this wasn’t quite the right mindset seeing as how I’m here in front of you today halfway through my second senior year. (I tell you right now that you aren’t going to meet many people in your life with two high school diplomas!) When March finally came around, one of my friends, who was also a legacy candidate at the school, said that she had already heard from UVA and that the decision was accessible online. When I heard this, I immediately asked my calculus teacher if I could leave class to check and she said “Yes.” Naturally, everyone gave me the standard good-luck wishes. It took me 15 minutes to find the right PIN for my special email account, but I finally found it and logged onto the website. The large smile on my face, and the butterflies in my stomach, were instantly wiped away when I learned that I had been denied.

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I walked back to class completely depressed and opened the door onto fifteen people asking me if I had gotten in. I couldn’t even speak. I was still in shock. All I could manage was a small head nod of sadness. That denial letter was just the first of many. I received another ten or so from some of the best schools in the country, and I was left to choose from among my backup schools.

After about a month of telling my friends that I would be going to the University of Maryland, which actually made a lot of them happy seeing as how it meant we’d be in college together, my dad finally made the decision for me that I would be doing a PG year. Trust me, I was against it 100%. I didn’t want to fall a year behind all of my friends, and I definitely was not interested in five years of high school! Ugh! But I was powerless to do anything about it. My dad had made a fateful phone call to one of my old high school’s rivals, Mercersburg Academy, former home of Mr. McQuait, RawwwwDawg, and Dr. Pethel. After a summer of saying goodbye to friends bound for college, I stayed home . . . studying for a high school test, the SAT. You can imagine my feelings at the time. As July came to an end, and we still hadn’t heard anything definitive from Mercersburg, I grew just a little anxious. Then one day an email arrived from Mercersburg informing me that they had given my spot away to someone else because the financial situation had worked out in his favor. At the end of this, at most, fivesentence letter that had ripped my heart in half, again, they had concluded by writing, “We wish you luck wherever you decide to go in your life.” Their well wishes, of course, did not make me feel any better.

So here I was, at the end of July, with no college and apparently no high school prospects either. Life had decided to slap me in the face, yet again.

I honestly was prepared to give up at this point, because it just seemed like some higher power wanted me to fail, and I thought I had failed. But my dad went to the trusty Google machine and typed in the words “PG year,” and my hopes sprang to life once again. Now, I know this speech is supposed to be about “second chances,” but if anyone is counting, after Mercersburg didn’t work out, I was clearly up to like my third or fourth chance, so I prayed to God that this time something would go right for once. After a few minutes of searching, we found a list of schools that offered a PG year within a 1000-mile radius of Maryland—though most of them said “full” in the “available spots” column. We immediately called three of the first schools we saw on the list, and one of them was Western Reserve Academy. After three tours

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(a shout out to my main man, Austin Petsche, for that tour, by the way) and three interviews, I eventually chose Reserve.

It honestly wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, but if life hadn’t decided to slap me in the face all through spring and at the end of summer, I wouldn’t be here with any of you. I’ve met some of the best people I could ever have hoped to meet, and I know I am going to be life-long friends with a lot of you. Like I said, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, not even close, but standing here today I wouldn’t change a thing. Reserve has given me my second chance at life, and I’m doing everything I can to grasp that second chance.

If I had gotten into UVA back in March, I would likely have taken everything for granted. I would not have been prepared to step out on my own, and my life would never have been put in perspective for me to see it like I do now. So here’s what I believe in: No matter how bad you think life is right now—even if it seems that a higher power is doing everything possible to see you fail—there is always an opportunity for a second chance. I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my life, and most of those things were just plain unfair or cruel. There are no other words to describe them. But believing in this second chance has paid off. And if you don’t believe me, I brought some physical proof with me. [Lift up the UVA letter!] This one little piece of paper from UVA means that my dream has finally come true. I have it taped up on a wall in my room because every time I walk by I have to read it to make sure I haven’t read it wrong. It’s still a surreal feeling. This is what Reserve has done for me; this is what believing in a second chance has done.

*[This speech was given in the 2012-13 academic year and should have been included in the previous volume of Viewpoints. The editors apologize to our readers, and most especially to Ben, for our having inadvertently left it out of that volume. Naturally, we are pleased to have been given this second chance to get things right.]

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NOVEMBER 15, 2014 Amy Squire Senior Richfield, Ohio

As a community, we do a great job of addressing major lapses in respect and explaining how and why such thoughtless actions are not okay. However, we tend to let “lesser”—though no less degrading—acts of disrespect slip through the cracks. “It’s just high school,” we tell ourselves. “A little teasing is to be expected.” And with this, I don’t disagree. But I think we could use a reminder about the difference between “teasing” and “bullying”—one is light-hearted and between friends, while the other is meant to embarrass and demean.

Bullying has become, at least in my mind, such a childish word.

Whenever it’s used I inevitably call up a picture of a ten-year-old picking on an eight-year-old—you know, Max Keeble’s Big Move kind of stuff. It just doesn’t seem to apply to high school. I mean, we’re all adults here, right? But the same kind of mean-spirited actions sometimes happen here, and I say it’s time we stop letting them slip by.

My freshman year, I was even shier and more socially awkward than I am now. It was my first time switching schools, and while I had the luxury of my best friend from middle school making the trip with me, I was terrified. I didn’t know how to talk to people that hadn’t been in my class for nine years already. I could hardly fathom that there were hundreds of new people waiting at this new place so close to home and yet so distant from my previous experience. Nervous as I was, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming excitement at the prospect of this new start.

But something hindered my growth at this new place within just the first few weeks of school. I found out that, around campus, my nickname had become “Skunk” because of the blond streaks in my hair that I guess, to some, resembled the pattern of a skunk’s stripes. On the surface, this really isn’t a big deal. It’s a name that compares the appearances of two things. So what? The thing about it that bothered me wasn’t the name itself—I was able to easily laugh that off with jovial cries of, “Hello, brother!” whenever I caught a whiff of that unmistakable skunk scent. What bothered me was the fact that people who had never spoken to me, people I hadn’t even had the chance to meet, people who

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hadn’t bothered to take the time to learn my name, were calling me by “Skunk,” and that was the only way they knew me. As a freshman trying to assimilate into a new group of kids for the first time, I thought this was going to be a mortal blow to my fledgling reputation. But here I stand, stronger and happier than I’ve ever been before and feeling like a part of this community.

However, this speech isn’t about me. It’s about all of us . . . about awareness . . . about the generations of freshman classes to come.

I’m sure many of the kids who called me by that name my freshman year didn’t do it out of spite but only out of simply trying to fit in to what they figured was the new Reserve lingo—it was no different from communicating times by only using the minutes and calling teachers by their various nicknames. And while I recognize that this means many of the kids weren’t intending to be disrespectful at all, I can’t deny that it hurt.

While my experience with these situations died out my freshman year, I know similar things are still happening. Though there is no single mold for how a person should look, or who they should be, we as humans are still apt to point out and criticize those who are different from us. It’s an instinct borne from a discomfort with unfamiliarity, but we can fight it. I’m not asking for that age-old idealist goal of all of us linking arms and singing some disgustingly sweet song of friendship around a fire—I know that it’s ridiculous to think that everyone on the planet can be genuine friends. You don’t have to be in love with every person you come across in life, and you can and should disagree with others’ views and beliefs . . . imagine how boring the world would be if everyone agreed with everyone else! But these disagreements need to be handled with respect, not contempt; you don’t have to buy into what everyone around you says, but there’s no reason to belittle or demean someone for having views that oppose yours. As long as you can respectfully agree to disagree, those little things that fall through the cracks? Well, we’ll start catching them more and more thoroughly, and our school will be a safe place for everyone to be who they are.

This I believe: no one should ever be made to feel wrong for who they are. We are all individuals, and with this comes the reality of differing morals and beliefs, but this reality doesn’t have to spawn the animosity it so frequently does. I want to challenge each and every one of us to be aware of the things we say to and about one another and think more carefully as to whether or not they have the potential to hurt.

I know that we’re all thoughtful people, but sometimes things just slip past us, and we don’t even realize that they could be hurting someone. I

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hope this is a place where everyone feels free, honestly and unabashedly, to be who they are; and if we’re all aware of the role we play in this community, that will undoubtedly happen.

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DECEMBER 5, 2013 Tricia Cunningham Senior Macedonia, Ohio

For those of you who don't know me, I am Tricia Cunningham.

So here I am. I’ve wanted to get up here to give a “This I Believe” speech since my freshman year. After I heard my first one, I knew that I had to make a speech myself. I mean, I had no clue what I wanted to say, but I knew I wanted to make one. And so senior year rolls around, and after what seemed like a hundred emails from Mrs. Neill, I finally signed up.

At first, I was excited and started writing a speech about what I initially thought I wanted to talk about. And then I got to thinking, What had I gotten myself into? What was I thinking? Why would anyone care what I have to say? But then I realized maybe there will be a few people out there who want to listen; maybe they are my friends and thus feel like they have to or maybe because they’ll realize this speech is about them. It’s about all of you sitting in front of me. Just maybe you'll care a little bit if you take the time to hear me out.

When I came in as a freshman, I fell into the classic day student trap. You know, getting picked up right after sports, never being on campus more than when it was required, and doing my best to stay under the radar by sticking close to a few kids I met early on. Well, if any of you know me now, I’m basically the exact opposite. It’s harder to find a time when I’m not on campus than when I am. I’m here late every night and basically the entire weekend. I was trying to figure out what changed in me, allowing for this new attitude I took on sophomore year.

I began spending increasing amounts of time around here and, in truth, I discovered it is because of all of you guys. The bonds you create at Reserve change who you are as a person, and everyone you meet will affect your opinions about Reserve and about your future.

Therefore, when thinking about this speech, I began by trying to think of everyone that has affected me over the years, or more particularly, over the past year and a half. But I wondered, who exactly has affected me the most? Think about it, we have hundreds of interactions a day, how do we decide who has had the greatest impact?

Was it the friend you were extremely close to until you grew apart junior year? Maybe it’s the person, who until recently, seemed to find every

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opportunity to say something negative about you. No, maybe it’s the wide range of alumni that taught you the ins and outs and secrets to surviving Reserve. Or perhaps, it is that one friend who has stuck by your side since the very beginning. For me, I think possibly it is my advisor, without whom I’d probably go insane. She allows me to just sit in her dorm and complain when I don't feel like doing anything else.

She’s been there through it all. Can it be the group with whom I've spent countless nights sitting in someone’s basement watching movies or in a backyard circled around a bonfire? Or perhaps even the small group that I had relied on as my closest friends during the rough winter of my junior year?

Obviously, at Reserve you make a lot of connections and form a great many relationships. Each and every person with whom you come into contact will affect you more than you even realize. If you don't take time to think about how each and every person impacts you, you may never realize how much you, in turn, impact their lives. Even the smallest connections mean a lot in terms of defining someone, whether it be a relationship like the ones I have just mentioned, or maybe just that kid whose only contact with you is a nightly text that says “Yo Trish what’s the math homework?” As cliché as it might sound, take time to cherish the four years you have with these kids. They have changed you more than you realize and could potentially be the greatest bonds you ever create. Even if it is just sitting on the Ellsworth steps with a completely random group of people waiting for TGIF to begin, any moment you have to grow closer to someone should be taken full advantage of.

Here at Reserve, we are a bunch of freaks, weirdoes, and nerds, and we love each other for it. These are the people who have had to deal with your crazy, stressful, and exciting teenage years. These are the years that define your attitude and who you are for the rest of your life.

The people you meet and connect with here will be the ones who give shape to your character. Never underappreciate what you do for someone else or how much you impact his or her life because even the smallest exchanges can have the grandest repercussions. We hear over and over that Reserve is a community—a family—but do we always take time to appreciate it for what it is.

Fellow seniors, now I'm speaking to you. I want you to take a minute and think. How close do you really feel to the others in our grade? How well do you really know them? And how sad will it be when these connections are broken by the looming prospect of college?

If you feel distant or disconnected from one another, I want you to start

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reaching out. Try to reconnect with those you have grown apart from and make new connections with those you would least expect. I feel as though we have been together for four years, but we still don't really know each other at all. Slowly, we are improving. We have less than six months left together, and I hope, more than anything, that we can bond in a way that we haven’t yet over our past four years. And to the rest of you, I hope you take what I said to heart: Make the most of your time here, because you do matter.

I love Reserve, I love my senior class, but most of all, I love every person that makes this place what it is.

This I believe, family is not based on blood. It is formed by the love we have for each other.

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DECEMBER 9, 2014 Alex Fellows Senior Canton, Ohio

Good morning everyone! As I hope most of you know by now, my name is Alex Fellows. I have been at Reserve for four years now and have seen so many changes—not just in the school, but in my friends, my classes, and most of all, in myself. I’ve worked hard throughout my four years, but socially I like to think I have branched out a bit. As a freshman, I stuck to my room, which was great! Thanks Hyun, love you.

Eventually, however, I realized there were too many great people at this school that I was missing out on by locking myself away. Of course, I was a freshman, and being a freshman, as we all know, means being awkward. But, thanks to my most amazing friends (you know who you are), I’ve made it here, to be standing before you today. But, I’ve strayed very far from what this speech is supposedly about—I guess I just like talking about myself.

Where I was going with this was to say that despite the many changes I’ve faced these past years, I have noticed a constant, for me and for everyone: worry. We work so hard, and sometimes it’s easy to lose track of what exactly we are working towards. As we lose that vision, we start to stress about the small things even more: tests, homework, friendships. But I realized we are on this planet for a short amount of time—sometimes shorter than we deserve. While here, there are too many beautiful places to see and people to meet. Though sometimes the stress that comes with our worry gives us that extra push needed to finish an application or study for a test, I think there is just too much of it here at Reserve. My reasons for this belief circle back to eighth grade year. After all, what would a “This I Believe” speech be without an anecdote?

So, in eighth grade, we all had to do a research project and then give a speech about it to our entire middle school—daunting, I know.

My speech was one of the very first times I had to present to a large number of people—besides my starring role as Yertle the Turtle in Seussical. (My two lines were by far the very best of that whole show.) I chose my project to be about the great Dr. Seuss. So scholarly, I know.

As I was reminiscing about this speech, I remembered one of the books I

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had had on display during it, Oh, The Places You’ll Go! It is that book that really inspired this speech. It seems fitting that one of my first public speaking experiences ties into one of my last here at Reserve.

This book reminded me of the exciting life that lies ahead of me.

Yet it also saddened me to think that I don’t experience the present as fully as I could. We lead wonderful, brilliant, fortunate lives here at Reserve, yet so often we spend most of the time worrying about our grades or where we’ll get into college. Seniors, considering that early decisions from colleges are beginning to flow in, and for everyone else, with winter exams just around the corner, I found this a great time to address my belief. No matter where we end up, whether we get into our top choice college or not, we can’t lose sight of what’s right here, right in front of us. Whatever school we go to will turn into our dream school.

That bad grade on a test sucks, but learn from it, don’t dwell and worry about it. Leave those worries behind and appreciate the friends around you now. Let them know you care: showing a little love can make all the difference.

This I believe, you are all amazing, and talented, and incredibly special. Take advantage of the beautiful lives in front of you, and don’t waste time fretting over grades or college. Smile now and know the limitless opportunities that await you beyond the halls of Reserve. Your lives are too precious to not love, or have fun, or see the beauty in our world. Yes, you can have little moments of despair before a test, after a test, upon a college decision, but do not let them overwhelm you. Live and love what you have now and don’t worry, for your future is bright and shining.

So, with that, I leave you: Seniors, with pride in all we’ve done together and abounding love for my friends who’ve done so much for me; Juniors, with comfort in knowing you’ll be taking over the reins; Sophomores, with joy to have seen you mature over the past year; and Freshmen, with gratitude for your continuing the Reserve legacy.

There’s still much time before graduation, but thank you, everyone, for making my eventual farewell to Reserve so bittersweet. Now, I leave you all with a quotation from the very book that inspired this all.

You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.

You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.

Wherever you fly, you'll be best of the best.

Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don't.

Because, sometimes, you won't.

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But... be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea, you're off to Great Places!

Today is your day!

Your mountain is waiting.

So...get on your way!

Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

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JANUARY 9, 2014 Noor Alali Senior Hudson, Ohio

Over the past three years I have been exposed to the Syrian tragedy through my father, who is Syrian. Located in the Middle East, Syria is a medium-sized country on the eastern shores of the Mediterranean Sea. A country where olive trees flourish and bronzeskinned belly dancers rattle their beaded skirts like maracas. However, for the past three years, a horrible and destructive civil war between the hot-headed government and the boiling opposition is becoming more detrimental each day and could possibly transform into a catastrophic war engulfing all of the Middle East.

Every year since I was born, I have traveled to France and Syria to visit both sides of my family. Until three years ago, traveling to Syria was an exciting vacation, basking in the equal warmth of the golden sun and the unconditional love of my dear relatives. Sadly, the times have changed. That summer though, the unrest was just beginning, and my father, following the news very closely, thought it was still safe for us to travel to the Middle East. The family was very eager to see us. After experiencing the heated debates among the anxious Syrians in every home we visited and witnessing the public manifestations for and against the government, my father realized that it was not wise for us to go to an unstable country. He could feel the wind of change, but it did not seem to blow in the right direction. Once a secure country, Syria now dangles like torn flesh, ripped apart by two opposing parties, the aggressive government and the determined opposition, both seeing violence as the only means by which to achieve their goals. As humans, especially adolescents, we are attracted to the “quick fix” or the fastest, easiest method to execute a task or an idea. Violence and aggression is a negative form of this lazy behavior, as it does not require patience, time or thought, but rather just blurred impulse. This is a dangerous path, as brutality never leads to a positive outcome. In Hungarian there is an old folk saying, “Before you say something to your mother-in-law, take a sip of water and count to ten, swallow, and if you still feel what you had to say was appropriate you may continue.” This saying reflects the crucial, careful thinking that must go into our actions before we act upon our

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impulses.

After a year apart from our family, we missed each other deeply, and my father knew how much joy and brightness our presence would bring to his parents. The entire country, and their memories, were slowly crumbling in front of their eyes and were taking a great toll on their well-being. Although it was a risk, when we arrived at the airport and spotted my grandfather, my brother and I sprinted into his arms.

He squeezed us tightly, and feeling this happiness and love, I realized the healing effect of our meeting. The physical reality of us being together brought life back into my family, like a dehydrated flower quenched by water.

Family, whether by blood or friendships made across your journey through life, is the truest love and deepest trust one will find.

This unique support and healing elixir should be translated into one’s thoughts and behaviors. Three years and over 100,000 deaths later, I believe, like my grandfather, that the only cure for Syria’s tragedy, and for all forms of aggression, is through dialogue and love for the other and for the country—as destructive brutality can only lead to more violence.

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JANUARY 13, 2014 Shiqi (Rebecca) Li Senior Beijing, China

I was born in the second most populous city in China. In Beijing, there are 11.5 million people waking up each morning, getting into cars and buses, going to work, coming back home at the end of the day, and waking up the next morning to do it all over again. Living in my hometown, I see thousands of people each day: I see people standing next to me in the subway; I see them walking alongside me on the streets; I see them going to places I go, but often times, I cannot feel their presence. To see and to feel are completely different experiences—for one is purely the reflection of visual images, while the other is a sensation of belonging and companionship derived from the heart.

Many days, after I return home, I try to recall who I can remember from the day. I have seen them all, for the images of the crowd still remain fresh in my memory, but in fact, I have felt almost none.

Eighteen years ago, when I opened my eyes for the first time as a newborn baby, my vision was filled by two people only: my parents.

They were the only people I saw and the only ones who I felt attached to.

A few years later, when I was in kindergarten, I made a few friends, and I trusted them with my whole heart. I was never lonely, and I believed that hanging out with them was the best thing in the world. But as I grew up, I started to see more and more faces each day. Most of them were strange, some emotionless, and only a few these could I recall the next morning. Occasionally, I felt lonely being in the crowd, hearing everybody speaking familiar languages but with unfamiliar voices. I have wondered what is different from my naive childhood, when everybody in my world was accessible and familiar to me.

I found my answer after encountering two kids at different times in my life. My first young protagonist is a pre-school girl at the Orchard School. Two years ago, I signed up for Orchard Tutoring on my Community Service day. Assigned to supervise eight or nine pre-school toddlers, I was very excited to be their teacher. To me, hanging out with kids is such a relaxing experience, since not a lot of complicated things take place in their happy little worlds. Just as was the case in my social group in kindergarten, the preschoolers all knew each other; they played

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together and shared their happiest moments with each other. I noticed one girl in particular. She was just as tiny and cute as the other kids were, wearing her pink little jacket and chasing her friends in the playground. When they were walking in line to have lunch in the dining hall, she always wanted to hold my hand. In return, I sat next to her during every meal, and I read her books about princes and princesses.

We had a really good time together, and when I was about to leave, I asked her whether she would remember me. I predicted how she would respond, that she would remember me for the rest of her life, but I had no doubt that in reality she would probably forget me the next day. Still, I thought it would be nice to hear her say such words. However, she responded in an entirely different way, with words that I will probably never forget. She said, “I won’t be able to remember you a very long time, but if you write your name down on a piece of paper, I will carry it around all the time.” Hearing these words, I was so touched that I couldn’t help feeling tears rushing down my face. I felt like I hadn’t heard anything so innocent and sincere like that for a long time. What I saw from her pure little eyes was a true desire to keep me in her memory, and I knew that she would try her best to do so by keeping that piece of paper.

This also made me think about myself. How many times have I pretended to recognize people who I’ve not met in years when I saw them again at weddings or family parties? I then thought about other people like me. How many times do people living in big cities not bother to nod and smile at the people walking next to them down the street? I thought about us here at Reserve. How often do we actually make a great effort to secure the memory of our happiest moments and truly remember those who have brought to us the true joy of living? As we grow up we feel that more important things such as exams, papers, and college applications are more worthy of our time and memory space.

They are, in some instances, but that doesn’t mean that there’s no space left in our minds for laughter and radiant faces. I hope we truly cherish the ones who have brought us happiness, because they are the ones who have shared our best and worst moments and have let us know that we are not alone in this world.

My second story is about my host family. I am very lucky to have a loving host family that has “adopted” me for vacations and staying at their house and meeting their family members has been a truly wonderful experience. I have hung out a lot with the ten-year old little girl in the house, and we have always had a good time together. One day, she invited me to her room and showed me her memory box. I

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have never had a memory box of my own, but I always thought that it should contain the most precious things in one’s life, such as engagement rings. When I saw her memory box, I couldn’t help laughing a little, in a kind way, of course. What she had was a pink plastic case with glitter on the surface and a bunch of colorful marbles and paper inside. She saw my little laugh, and she asked me about it. I said nothing other than that I was curious to find out how many memories those little items contained. She poured out everything in her box and started introducing each object to me with great detail and vivid descriptions as to her various moods when she received them. I remembered she picked up five marbles that seemingly differed only in their color. Yet she clearly remembered the story behind each: she got the red one from her uncle during a movie they had watched together; and the purple one had come from a friend of hers when she was seven years old. After she finished introducing everything in her box, I felt like it must have weighed a hundred tons worth of memories. Those marbles and papers were not just any marble and papers in the world, but they were unique to her, recording the happiest times in her life. I suddenly wished that I had a box to record my best moments, and when I would re-open it thirty or forty years later, I could pick up my marbles and papers and tell others about my own childhood stories. Because without it, I was not sure that I had secured as many beautiful memories in my eighteen years as she had in her ten.

As we start to enter the complex world, with more and more strange faces and intricate events, we must try not to lose ourselves among the noisy crowd. We should try to remember those people who have made our lives more meaningful and memorable, and always keep a secure space in our memory for those who have touched our hearts.

After all, remembering who we cherish is remembering who we are.

This I believe, real companionship and happiness do not take place when just our eyes are filled with people—only when our hearts are.

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FEBRUARY 3, 2014 Selena Walsh Senior Tallmadge, Ohio

“The trouble with schools is they always try to teach the wrong lesson . . . They want you to become less callow, less shallow. But I say: Why invite stress in?” We need to “Stop studying strife and learn to live ‘the unexamined life.’” because, “Life’s more painless for the brainless” and “Nothing matters but knowing nothing matters. It’s just life.”

At this point, I assume most of you are either zoned-out, thoroughly confused, or smiling because you caught on to my reference.

My little spiel just now was actually lyrics from the song “Dancing Through Life” from Wicked. On the way home from seeing the show over winter break, my brother, Billy, mentioned it was his favorite song.

Immediately, I snapped at him, “That song is about being happy with mediocrity, never pushing yourself, never questioning anything. You do realize that, don’t you?” And he replied to me, “Yes, that’s why it’s so awesome!”

At Reserve, especially during the long winter months, it’s easy for us to adopt a similar mentality. We’ll tell ourselves things like, “I don’t feel like it” or “I don’t even care anymore.” And some of us, including me, are guilty of saying things like, “I’m a second semester senior. Does it really matter?” We get so caught up in the daily routine that we fail to recognize the larger purpose in what we are doing.

However, the quality of your Reserve experience can depend greatly on what you do after you say these things. Will you remain in your state of carelessness, or are you going to put an end to the mindlessness and push yourself? Midway through a dreary, uneventful freshman year I was charged with this decision. I had a bad case of what is now known as “the day student disease.” The disease is commonly found in freshmen day students. The infected are known to go through the school day like zombies and leave campus the first chance they get.

Freshman year, when my old friends and teachers would ask me, “How’s school?” My only reply would be, “It’s a lot of work.”

However, when my Uncle Pat heard this answer, he asked me, “If the only thing you’re getting out of that school is work, it’s not worth it. It’s only high school.” Taken aback, I realized something had to change: me!

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I began spending more time on campus and grew close to people who are, to this day, some of my best friends. I attended my first sit-down dinner, and I discovered one of my favorite WRA traditions. However, none of this would have happened had I not pushed myself out of my comfort zone.

So, I charge you all: push yourselves. And I am not only talking about in the classroom. Many of you already do that. Push yourselves outside of the classroom. Push yourselves out of your comfort zone.

Push yourselves out of your room! Frankly, the phrases “I don’t feel like it” and “Why does it matter?” are more often responses to “Let’s go to the basketball game!” than “Let’s go study!” Try out for the varsity lacrosse team. Audition for the play. Sit with someone in the dining hall you have never spoken to before. Because by the time you realize you’ve spent too much of your time here sleeping, studying or simply doing nothing, it will most likely be too late. Don’t be afraid to push yourself to care, because we should. We should care that one of our biology teachers is currently working on a vaccine that could prevent cancer for future generations. We should care that we have three peers who play in the Cleveland Orchestra’s Youth Orchestra—and that one is the Concertmaster! We should care that Mr. Gerber and his family just got a puppy, Hershey (who is, quite possibly, this month’s cutest addition to campus). We should care that we all have the privilege to call ourselves Pioneers.

Freshmen, you have approximately 1,205 days until you graduate. Sophomores: 840. Juniors: 475. And seniors, there are just 110 days until we become alumnus and alumnae of the Academy. So, this I believe, get everything you can out of your Reserve experience. Your time here does matter—whether you realize it in fifty years or the next fifty seconds.

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FEBRUARY 7, 2014 Imani Brooks Senior Cleveland, Ohio

Warning: This announcement may contain broken English.

And, Happy Black History Month!

What do I believe? That is a great question. I believe in a lot of things. I believe that Jesus Christ is Lord; I believe that my skin is brown (unless I got burnt like marshmallows usually do); and I believe in peace, love, and unity. I believe that in the third grade, my arch rival, Shandine¸ and I shared the same boyfriend—although I don’t remember his name. I believe that I really do get high off of chocolate, even though people tell me that’s not possible. (Just ask Diane, Eli, Emma; they can all tell you). I believe that I could have been the next Olympic gymnast, despite my mom always telling me I was too tall. Now that you know some of my beliefs, who am I? My name is Imani Nicole Brooks. I am about 5’ 6’’. I am the middle child of the original three kids between my mother and father, but I am the second oldest now that my dad has five kids. He lives in California. I haven’t seen him in about five years, and he still tries to tell me what to do from 3,000 miles away. But that’s about to be stopped because . . . because . . . because, well . . . I am LEGAL today! Whoooo, it feels good. I was born eighteen years ago today and it feels like the shiz nit! I’m eighteen!! I love birthdays, and I especially love mine, because I believe that every new year should be celebrated—whether it’s New Year’s or your birthday—because you made it through another year healthy, sane, and good looking. (Well, some of us anyway.) You begin to digress at a certain point in your life, but I ain’t there yet so it don’t pertain to me. I’m wild, I’m loud, and I love people. I love companionship, smiles, and twerking (aka, dancing really fast). I also love Beyoncé. Her new album gives life to the lifeless and a voice to the voiceless. So let me hear you say Heeeyyyyy, Ms. Brooks!

[Editor’s note: At this point Imani’s roommate, Emma, shouts out, “Hey Ms. Brooks.” There is also a call and response of “Flawless”/“Flawless.”]

Shout out to the roomie, Em Dog, in the house.

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But seriously, have fun, let loose, and don’t be afraid to look stupid. ‘Cause when it’s about to go down . . . “It’s about to go down” (Kevin Hart). You can’t stop the inevitable. Just like if you fall on Brick Row—it was already going to happen, so might as well let it happen with pride. Embrace the icy bricks with honor, excellence, and compassion for it could have been worse. If you come up to the podium at Morning Meeting and trip on the carpet, stutter, or run off script, embrace it with honor, excellence, and compassion. And for a final example, when you are in Spanish class and the teacher asks you what the story that you just read was about and you answer in the most ridiculous way possible, with confidence, as if that were actually the answer, embrace the wrongness with honor, excellence, and compassion.

You gave it your best shot, but it just wasn’t good enough. But don’t fret, ‘cause it be like that sometimes.

Life is about living. Life is about living it to the fullest in the best way you know how. If your way is reading some book about Harry Potter meets Shakespeare and you snickering at the part when Romeo falls in love with Hermione instead of Juliet because Hermione was prettier, then all power to you. But do you, be you. Because you are the only you in this world. I don’t know about y’all, but I only know how to be me. I only know how to gyrate when I feel it necessary or when Beyoncé comes on, and I only know how to be funny and say the first thing that comes to mind—even if it is sometimes a little inappropriate (right Mr. Gerber?!). I only know how to change my hairstyle with my mood; and that’s what I know how to do. So, this I believe, stop being a stick on a log. I know it’s supposed to be a bump on a log, but you are prone to fall of the log if you are a boring old stick. Yes, I realize that may not make sense to some (actually most) of you, but it made sense in my head. So get out there. Go read that Harry Potter meets Shakespeare and laugh to your heart’s content or be stupid, crazy, and loud, but whatever it is, remember to just be you.

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FEBRUARY 17, 2014 Kelsey Gordon Senior Elyria, Ohio

Like many of you in this chapel, I came to Reserve because I wanted an amazing education. Prior to my years here at WRA, I attended a large public school. Imagine. Combine all of the seniors, juniors and sophomores. That is a rough estimate of how many students were in my grade alone. The average class size was just under 30. If I were to attend that high school today, I would be surrounded by over fifteen hundred teachers, students and faculty each day. Although I had become accustomed to this way of learning in middle school, I always knew there was something more to school. In this environment, it was rather easy to succeed. As long as you paid some attention, and remembered at least some of what the teacher had said in class, you could pass. The idea of learning in this manner for another four years bothered me so much that I decided to research other opportunities.

And here I am, nearly four years later.

While my classroom experience at Reserve has been enriching, I believe it is the ideas that I’ve discovered about education outside of the classroom that have impacted me the most. I believe education is more than the memorization of formulas, facts or even the ability to write a thoughtful essay. Education includes all of these things, of course, yet it encompasses so much more—it is about knowing more about those with whom we share this world. Being present and culturally aware are two characteristics that I cherish the most in an individual, because without opening ourselves to the world around us we remain uninformed to a vast amount of events—both the glorious and the tragic. The ability to see life from another perspective is one of the most valuable skills to acquire in life, as it allows us to become more than ourselves. Sometimes it is the little overlooked moments and memories that have the potential to influence us the most. While education does include knowing more about our peers, we also need to learn more about ourselves. At Reserve, we are pushed in so many directions, sometimes we don’t know where we stand. It is at these most trying times that we uncover our true potential and capacity to handle stress. For the most part, we focus on the straightforward, factually part of education. As I’ve mentioned, this

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is very important. However I often wonder what is that one AP US grade worth?

That one English essay?

That singular Spanish presentation? I would argue that these challenges are well worth hours of your time, yet we reach a point where a few hours becomes a few too many. We stay up late, sacrificing many things we don’t even have to give. You can reach a point where the number of hours becomes meaningless because you become unfocused, and you feel so upset for still not knowing the information that you simply give up. I believe that knowing where that point is, is one of the most essential lessons you will learn while at Reserve. Your health is never worth that perfect score, the spot on the varsity team, that leadership position, or that relationship.

Furthermore, it is not worth your integrity. Lying and cheating is never excusable, no matter how many hours of work you have put in or how much stress has been placed on you. The act of sacrificing virtue will spread to other parts of your life, poisoning your personality. If you begin to act dishonestly now, there will come a time in which you will be forced to stop, and it could be costly.

From an outsider it may seem as if Reserve is just a place for fact-based education, but I am thankful to say that this community is so much more. Whether it is GSA, JSA, CHERISH, SICU or one of the other many clubs, service projects, or even discussions in classes, we are engaging one another in meaningful ways. We matter more than our test scores, or our GPAs. I believe that every student here will matriculate to a college or university where they will continue to learn and prosper, no matter the name of the institution. And while my speech speaks mainly to underclassmen, I think we all can contemplate education’s definition. Have a discussion; I believe that it is through our disagreements that we learn the most.

Above all, this I believe, education is more than the classical definition. It is the experiences and knowledge of others and ourselves that influence us to be better individuals. Engage. Discover. Travel.

And most importantly, open yourself to the wonders that this world has to offer.

Thank you Reserve, and all of you, for what you have taught me over the years.

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FEBRUARY 21, 2014 Tiffany Chung Senior Hudson, Ohio

I still remember all the delusional thoughts that ran through my head as I started my internship at the Marriott this summer. For some reason, I was under the impression that this was going to be a piece of cake and that by the end of the summer I was going to have a standing offer for a management position here. After all, everyone told me I was a natural (or, at least, my grandma did). I had taken a three-week summer course on Hotel Management at Cornell, which clearly made me more capable than the other employees with years of experience. And besides, it was me. I was destined for greatness.

So you could probably guess the disappointment I felt when no one praised me on my first day. I had honestly pictured myself walking through the lobby in slow motion, with my hair flying behind me, high heels clacking on the marble floor, and casually laughing with one of the managers as I carried a Starbucks in one hand. But, actually . . . I ended up collecting dirty room service trays from ten floors, managed to knock over a whole rack of juice glasses (which, of course, broke them all), and then sat through a housekeeping meeting about . . . bed spreads. My boss laughed at me for wearing high heels to a job that required me to be on my feet all day, and I got the dirtiest look from a waiter who realized I had no idea how to mop a floor.

That day, I realized that I possessed an undeserved sense of entitlement. My success wasn’t going to be handed to me on a silver platter, and no one was going to give me special treatment because I went to a certain school or because my dad had certain connections. I think you all understand what I mean when I say that we’re told by adults all the time how “special” we are. You know, teachers tell us we’re going to be the future leaders of the world, and they tell us we’re intelligent and critical thinkers. And we have grandparents and relatives who tell us that we have unique characteristics that are bound to take us far, and parents who remind us that we’re going to make it in life no matter which path we choose. Honestly, all this got into my head and created in me a false pretense that I deserved everything because I was me. And that I wouldn’t go through a period of being the underdog at

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work, and that the oh-so magical charm I possessed would make my superiors promote me straight to the top.

The thing is, out there in the real world, I’m a nobody—for now, at least. Because until I can prove to others that I have the motivation, knowledge, and perseverance, no one is going to believe that I actually have potential. And absolutely no one is going to give me special treatment because of what I think I deserve. As much as I’d like to think I have everything it takes to be the best of the best, I had to step down from the pedestal I put myself on and realize that my sense of entitlement would actually hold me back from putting myself out there and working hard to get to where I wanted to be.

We go to Reserve, and we’re lucky that this institution will be a part of our background as we move forward. But rather than going out there thinking that a diploma from a prestigious school is going to catapult us into a successful life, we need to take the knowledge and skills we have gained as students here, and show others that we’re capable of truly succeeding. Because yes, I believe that all of us possess qualities and experiences that make us different. I believe we all have the potential to succeed, but most importantly, I believe we’re smart enough to actively work towards it, rather than expect for it to be handed to us.

Eventually at the Marriott, I learned to let go of my pompous attitude, and accept the fact that I was a brand-new intern with tons to learn. It didn’t matter who my dad knew, what schools I had attended, or where I lived. In the end, it came down to my own actions, and whether or not I knew how to prove that I was willing to work hard. I eventually got to stand proudly at the front desk for my last couple weeks and shadow managers to their large corporate meetings. And . . . I think I did have a short moment of that slow-motion scene I envisioned at the beginning of all of this. And I can finally admit that I didn’t get there because I was entitled to it. I got there because, instead of waiting around for success to come to me, I went out and worked hard to achieve it.

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FEBRUARY 28, 2014 Jack McKenzie Senior Hudson, Ohio

“Sometimes in our lives We all have pain, we all have sorrow But if we are wise We know that there's always tomorrow.” * Now I know that’s probably not what you all were expecting, but I’ve always loved that song. It was written by Bill Withers, and it’s called “Lean On Me.” I really like the positive and hopeful mindset that is prevalent throughout it. And now I’m going to continue with a story that incorporates that same positive attitude.

It is raining. HARD! I am huddled with three of my camp friends in a water-logged tent in the middle of the Maine wilderness. We are stranded at a campsite just below the summit of a mountain along the Appalachian Trail. But I am happy.

But let’s flashback two hours earlier . . . The sun is beginning to set. It is early evening as we roll into our campsite. We are done hiking for the day. I am hot, tired, and really, really hungry. As far as camping goes, I feel pretty good! I unclip the straps on my hiking backpack—as I have been fighting its weight all day. Finally giving in, I slowly allow it to pull me to the ground.

“Yo, what day are we on?” I ask my buddy, Kal, who is sprawled out next to me.

“Day five? Six, maybe? I’m not exactly sure,” he grunts. “I’m so flippin’ sick of hiking, Jack!” he says. “I am SO sore and just want to sleep!”

“You’re such a buzzkill.”

“I know. I know.”

Anyways, I say to him, “Think about how cool this is. We have literally nothing to worry about—I mean other than falling and breaking a leg and having to be carried the rest of the way until an emergency helicopter can evacuate you—but I mean, other than that, yeah, nothing to worry about. No tests, no deadlines, no parents constantly telling you to ‘be productive!’” I point all this out to him with the hope that it will

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take his mind off of his cramped legs.

Time flies on the trail, I think to myself, as a front of menacing clouds rolls in overhead. We’ve been on the trail for almost a week, hiking eight to twelve miles a day. We carry everything with us: our food, clothes, and gear. Each day has been so much better than the last.

Tonight our campsite is a short hike from the top of the mountain we will summit in the morning. I push myself off the ground and spring into action, guiding my tent mates as we set up our shelter for the night.

I start the stoves to prep for dinner, and we’re all enjoying each other’s company when the Heavens absolutely open up. Everybody bolts for their tents. I’ve never experienced a thunderstorm of this caliber, and we are stuck in the middle of it. We wait for the storm to pass, as the rain pounds the outside of our tents, attempting to force its way through the canvas. Some of the more hastily set up tents begin to take on HUUUGGGEEE amounts of water. My friends are whining and yelling from under the other tents: things like “This sucks!” or “I’m freezing and all my stuff is soaked!” and some other things that I won’t repeat in front of everyone here.

I unzip my tent and poke my head outside to see the extent of the damage the storm has caused. Sure enough, two of the other tents are collapsing in on themselves. I watch as my friend, Kal, frantically tries to remove himself from his tent. He screams, kind of in an exasperated way, “UUHHHH,” as if this will help him escape from underneath it. He is most unsuccessful. Defeated, and sprawled out on his stomach, he lifts his head and glares at me. And I lose it. I’m not really laughing at him, more at how incredibly unfortunate our situation is. And I think Kal realizes this too, because he also starts laughing hysterically. Now Kal is a big guy, and he is lying on his stomach with his tent on top of him while he is glaring at me and cracking up in his hearty belly giggle. It sounds something like: “hghghghg.” And soon after seeing this, and hearing me laugh, the entire campsite just loses it.

It is comical because even if Kal had been able to climb out from under his tent he would be standing in ankle-high mud while the rain soaks his already sopping wet body.

It is then that I realize how incredibly happy I am, even in the midst of a massive thunderstorm in the middle of the Maine wilderness.

By simply accepting how incredibly unfortunate our situation is, my friends and I are able to see the humor in it. The depressed campsite is transformed into a scene of obnoxiously loud laughter. We are ambushing each other’s tents. And soon—instead of hiding from the storm—we are all rolling around in our flooded tents laughing and

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embracing it.

I will always remember that moment, stuck in that thunderstorm in the shadow of Saddleback Mountain, as one of laughter and happiness rather than as a lonely, cold, and rainy night. So much so, that I actually remember the night at the flooded campsite much more vividly than the beautiful views from the mountain that we summited the next morning.

My friends and I made the storm into something memorable, because we didn’t allow it to get to us. We were positive. Now I am just as guilty as every other person in this chapel of embracing my inner negative side. I do it all the time. But living that way is no fun. Every situation, no matter how much it may initially stink, does have a bright side. Try to embrace the good in things, and don’t let the bad get the best of you. Keep in mind that that big test or paper that’s due tomorrow should only drive you crazy for a little while. There are so many other more important things in life. Don’t allow the little uncontrollable things (like a rain-soaked tent or sore feet) get the best of you.

So this I believe, be positive and attempt to make the best out of every situation. No matter how wet, cold, and lonely it is, I think you’d be surprised at how far a positive attitude can take you.

[Editor’s note: Jack began his speech by singing these lines a cappella.]

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MARCH 7, 2014 Mitch Pollock Senior Aurora, Ohio

I would not have come to Western Reserve Academy were it not for my mother. And I mean that in more than the most obvious sense; I mean, clearly she had to give birth to me first. But in addition, it was she who first planted the seed in my mind, and I’d like to start by telling that story.

It was spring 2009, and I was at a kind of banquet at the Aurora middle school. I was drinking a cup of that really good punch that has Sprite mixed in. The conversation probably went something like this.

My mom said, “I was just talking to Mrs. Sovich. Do you know where Nick’s going to high school in the fall?”

“Uh, Aurora High School?” I said, with way more sarcasm than a seventh grader has any right to.

“No, Western Reserve Academy.”

“Sounds fancy,” I mused. “Where is it?”

“Hudson. You used to take swimming lessons there, remember?

It’s a great school.”

I struggled to repress my memories of years in a frigid pool, clinging to the lane lines, and said simply, “Good for him.”

“I think it would be a good school for you.” And there it was.

No more beating around the bush.

Now, I remember the general idea of what I said next, but I can’t quite remember the exact wording. “No,” “No way,” “Never gonna happen,” or “You’ve gotta be kidding me” come to mind. I thought to myself, I don’t want to go to some “academy” where they make you wear a tie every day. Plus, I had it made! I had an excellent group of friends, and I didn’t really have to work much to get good grades. But for every one of my objections, my ever-persistent mother had a rebuttal.

“I’m not smart enough to get in there, only geniuses go there,” I said.

“You’d be surprised,” said she.

“Well, I don’t want to leave my friends.”

“You’d make new ones!” she said cheerily.

“Yeah, well, we can’t afford it anyway.”

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“Well, that’s probably true,” she said. “But you never know.

We could get lucky.”

Well, get lucky we did. My mom and the school’s lovely admissions folks won me over. I ended up at WRA in the fall of 2010, completely and utterly terrified. Now, you’re probably expecting this to be the part of the speech where I tell you all about the wonderful ways in which WRA has changed me for the better. And you would be justified in this assumption, because (a) that is what most of these speeches tend to be about, and (b) I certainly have a lot to talk about in that regard. I am entirely different than I was four years ago: I’m taller, my voice is deeper, my confidence level has soared, and now I’m only slightly terrified when meeting new people. I have grown intellectually, socially, and morally; and I couldn’t be more prepared for college.

But, this speech is not about any of that. I’m assuming that it’s pretty evident how much I’ve grown, so I want tell you instead about something that is far less obvious. This speech is, in fact, about my greatest failure while at WRA. You see, as a freshman, I suffered from the Day Student Disease.

If you don’t know what that is, you should. Selena gave a whole speech about it. (I don’t know why you would have been sleeping through it, but you had better not be sleeping through mine.) Anyways, as is pretty typical, it took me until at least sophomore year to become really involved on campus, gain a strong group of friends, and begin to eat dinner in the dining hall on a regular basis. Last year, this was even more evident. I had the workload of junior year (or as I refer to it, Advanced Placement United States History Year), two plays, late nights in the Record Room, and the pressures of the college search beginning to weigh on me. I stayed on campus until late at night, studied until even later, and at some point, found myself asleep. Rinse, repeat. And I’m not complaining. In fact, I loved it. Even more than I loved complaining about it! Life at Reserve is hectic, but it’s also awesome, and I was neckdeep in it. It was crazy, but it was just how I wanted it.

Or so I thought.

You see, I had a realization earlier this year that hit me pretty hard. It was some time during the Christmas season—perhaps during Christmas Eve spaghetti dinner, or maybe while decorating the tree. At some point, I said aloud, “This is going to be my last Christmas before I go to college.” Seems simple, right? Well, actually, it felt like a punch to the gut. And that was just Christmas; ever since then, I’ve felt it almost daily. This entire year has been filled with moments like that. Call me crazy, but people ask me all the time if I’m excited for college, and I

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almost always say, NO. At least, not yet. I wish I could tell you different, but I’d be lying. As immature as it sounds, I don’t want to leave home. I don’t want to stop helping my sister with her math homework. I don’t want to stop watching sports with my dad on the weekends. I don’t want to stop hearing comments about my grades from my mom. Really, I’m serious!

So, I’ve been dancing around the subject of what I believe, so I’d better get to the point: the failure. The reason that my reluctance to leave my home, my school, and my friends has affected me so much is that it took me until the second half of senior year for it to hit me. As I look back on my time here, I have realized that often times I was too caught up in my own success to savor the small moments with the people I love.

I think this is a pretty common thing at WRA. It’s entirely possible that it’s just me, but I am going to go out on a limb here and say that almost everyone listening right now can relate to this and learn from it. The fact is, I have been selfish. While it is a noble ambition to try to get the most out of your education, and while I don’t regret all the hard work I’ve put in inside and outside of the classroom, I do wish I had left more time for the people in my life. So yeah, I have a lot of regrets. How often did I ignore a friend who was obviously struggling simply because an English essay needed to get written for the next day? Why is it that when time was cramped, when the night was growing long, I more often than not chose my personal goals and responsibilities over reaching out to someone else? And worst of all, how often did I utterly ignore my parents and my sister, who have made countless sacrifices to send me to an amazing school that we could barely afford, just because I was tired, I needed sleep, I needed for them to “lay off” me?

I mean, come on, past version of Mitch, are you kidding me?

Your parents are sending you to private school, for crying out loud! You can at least ask them how their day has been, and be interested in the response. But I’ll stop beating myself up; I had a physics test this morning, and that combined with my speech should probably be making me feel pretty terrible. But instead, I feel hope. Well, maybe not about physics, but about the rest.

Now, to quote the immortal words of Joni Mitchell, “Don’t it always seem to go/ that you don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone.” But before they pave my childhood home and put up a parking lot, I’ve done my best to change. I have tried since December to go out of my way to eat dinner at home a couple of times a week, help my sister with her homework, and have long conversations with my parents. And with my friends, I’ve tried to cherish every little moment on this campus, because

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the clock is winding down. But graduation isn’t the end, and if there is one thing I’ve learned from four years here, it’s that this community binds people together for life. And despite the craziness of the past four years, I feel as though I have made a lot of those bonds, and I have realized that my relationships, more than any other factor, have made my experience at Reserve completely worthwhile. I guess I should have listened to my mom all along.

So, without further ado, this I believe, that personal goals and self-motivations are great tools, but any success, any award, any recognition that you receive, is rendered completely pointless if you forget the people that got you there—the people you love.

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MARCH 7, 2014 Jung Hyun Min Senior Busan, South Korea

I like to think of myself as a scientific thinker. Not in a specifically chemistry or physics kind of way, but in a logical, rational kind of way—a critical thinker with an open and creative mind; an educated individual who can entertain a thought without necessarily immediately accepting it, to quote Aristotle. I have always favored logic and reason over emotion in my decision-making process (which, I believe, should anyways be the strategy for survival). Thinking in a scientific way has many benefits. Such a thought process not only helps to make good life decisions but also helps tremendously in a school environment such as this, where one faces standardized tests and inclass assessments which force you to decide between two or three different possible answers. Which is why I think I was so attached to this whole “scientific thinking” idea. It worked.

What I hadn’t noticed, however, in the midst of the celebratory establishment of my rational credo, was the under-crediting of other approaches to making sense of the world, namely the arts and religion.

Even prior to my fully embracing scientific thinking, I had already developed somewhat negative views of these other areas. However, my obsession in the sciences eventually led me to take an unreasonably extremist attitude against the liberal arts. Despite my participation in some fine arts, including as appreciation for literature, I immaturely registered the liberal arts as an unnecessary drain of valuable human resources that could have been invested far more usefully in the sciences.

Despite my acknowledgement of some superior being, the “Verse Administrator,” I blindly rejected organized religions due to their “unscientific nature.” I had put on some Fordian-colored lenses and subsequently had a distorted image of today’s society which made me blind to the benefits to be derived from being able to appreciate and understand it in many different ways.

I was reminded of this seemingly obvious fact, when I was ironically provided with an extremely disturbing vision of a dystopian scientifically-centered world via a television series, Fringe. It might have been my unfamiliarity with the freaky pseudo sciences, or this grand

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scheme that reminded me of the New World Order, but surely the superscientific society depicted in this series was nowhere close to as ideal as I thought it should have been.

After a short period of reflection, using my previously acquired skills in scientific thinking, I have decided that balance is the key: economic equilibrium at full employment; checks and balances between the three branches of the government; and maintaining balance in the batter’s box. I believe a balanced life is a meaningful life. Not only a balance between scientific thinking and an appreciation for the arts—but also for everything else. Balance between work and play (which I think is an idea many here could benefit from). And balance between the usual and the unusual. Invest enough time on your major but also spend some time on other areas. Don’t just be a student, or just an athlete, or just an artist, or just anything. Be a student-athlete-musician-writer or something of a similar variety and versatility. This I believe, a balanced life is a meaningful life. And, therefore, this I also believe, take full advantage of this opportunity-rich environment and thrive . . . in balance.

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MARCH 10, 2014 Wade-Watta Kamara Senior Virginia Beach, Virginia

Good morning. Most of you already know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Wade-Watta (Christine) Kamara. I believe in God, Jesus Christ, and I just want to talk to you about him. These are my personal beliefs on Christianity and what I have gained through my personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Now, I’m not going to hide behind big words or long phrases that don’t really mean anything. Instead, I’m going to be very real with all of you. I’m going to be very vulnerable with all of you right now (by the Grace of God). I’m not standing up here to be looked at or acknowledged, but simply to tell you the message that God gave me for you; to simply tell you that God loves you and that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are so precious in God’s eyes. Oh! If only you knew how much you are loved.

As for this Christian thing, most people got it all wrong. They either think that Christians are supposed to be perfect, or that we think we are perfect, or that we’re mean, or boring, or radical, or basically any bad trait you can attribute to a person. Well, that’s all wrong. Being a Christian is having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, where he loves you and you love him and because he has filled you with his love, you love and care for those around you! That’s all. So it doesn’t matter how imperfect you are. Because being a Christian doesn’t mean you’re perfect. Trust me! I know. I sin and make mistakes every day, and God lets me know that I am wrong, but he corrects me in love and lets me know that he forgives me and still loves me. Being a Christian means that you undergo a life-long process of renewal and gradual change. We become better people through our relationship with God and his constant guidance, correction, and love. So if any of you have ever had an encounter with a Christian who made you feel worthless or undeserving of God, I just want you to know that God, himself, is truly sorry that one of his own misrepresented him and hurt you. But on this note, I want you to recognize that you were seeing their imperfection.

You see, Christians are a very imperfect people being guided and loved by a very perfect God! A God who loves you so much that he came and died for you.

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Because John 3:16 says, “For God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten son that who so ever believeth in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” Put emphasis on “For God so loved the world.” Because God loves the world—not hate, but love. That’s why when Jesus came he didn’t look for the holy people. No. He sat and ate with the drunkards, the prostitutes, the liars, the thieves, and the murderers—because he didn’t see them from the perspective of “oh, you’re a horrible person, I hate you.” No, he looked at them and said, “You’re troubled and you're hurting, and I want to help you. I love you, and I want to heal you!” That’s why he died on the cross for us and took the pain. He doesn’t care what you did or didn’t do. He doesn’t care how bad you are or how imperfect you are. He loves you. That’s why even when he was hanging on the cross he looked down at the very people who crucified him and said, “father, forgive them!” Because he loved them! He didn’t hate them; he only hated their actions. Not them.

That’s why it doesn’t matter what kind of person you are. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve lied. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cheated or hated or gossiped. God loves you and salvation is freely yours. All you have to do is believe in him as your lord and savior. That’s it. He just wants to show you how much he loves you, but only if you will let him.

That’s why it troubles me when I look at this world and see that there is so much pain! There are so many people suffering, and if only they knew him. But they don’t. They don’t know him. They don’t know how he can fill them with such joy. I know that’s what he did for me. When I was alone, he comforted me. When I was lost, he found me.

When I didn’t know which way to turn, he directed me.

But this I also believe, I believe that everyone is entitled to his or her own opinions and has the right to his or her own beliefs; and I as a Christian have no right to impose my beliefs on another. I can voice my beliefs and make them known, but I can’t force them on anyone. God would not be pleased if I did because he only wants people who are willing. That is why he gave every man and woman a choice to worship him. He wants genuine love. Love is not true if it is forced. So, you don’t have to take to heart anything I have just told you. You absolutely have the right to care less about every word that has just come out of my mouth. Yet, even knowing this, I still tell you about him because when Jesus found me, I was drowning in the ocean. It was dark, and a storm was raging. I was twisting and turning and gasping for air. I was crying, and I was hoping that somebody—anybody—would come and save me. Then he came in his boat and saw me and threw out his raft

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and lifted me up. Like a father, he wrapped a huge towel around me and then dried my hair. He then handed me some dry clothes and pointed to a bathroom and said, “There, you can go shower and change.”

And when all was said and done, and I was put together again, he took me back out to the dock and told me, “I need you do something for me.

Here’s my other boat. I want you to take it. You see, there are many others drowning in the sea just like you were when I found you, and I need you to go, and you must hurry because the current is coming and they will not survive.” Then he handed me a raft and said, “Here, I give you this raft. I give you life. Go!” Well, the truth is, when the current comes and I return to the dock, and he’s standing there waiting for me, I don’t want him to see me walk off that boat alone.

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APRIL 1, 2014 Ann Yu Senior Hudson, Ohio

Growing up, I have had my fair share of standards to meet.

Being raised in a Chinese household, it was natural for my parents to hold me up to a high standard, because it was what they believed was best for me and my future. “Work hard now, relax later,” became a very familiar mantra.

It was an effective way to raise a child, and the only way known to my parents (as well as many other local Chinese parents). All of us little Chinese children were all doing the same thing: going to Kumon and getting ahead in Math and English, hiring tutors, taking music lessons, etc. etc. So from a very young age, I was introduced into a world of comparing and competition.

It was the form of motivation for us. “Oh, look at them, look how they are doing so much better than you. You need to work harder so you can be better than them.” I was lucky my parents were not too crazy, or else I would probably be clinically insane by now. But the only way for me to shut them up was to work hard. The constant pushing, forcing, and occasional ridiculousness that often came with a tantrum became . . . well . . . normal.

The pushing was fine. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it weren’t for my parents orchestrating pretty much every moment of my life. For that I am grateful. But the constant comparisons? Not so much.

I get it. Everybody compares each other. It’s ingrained into us.

We look to others as competitors, and it comes down to survival of the fittest. Here at Reserve, we are used to seeing people graduate Cum Laude, with flawless GPA’s and perfect test scores, who just also happen to be excellent athletes, and wonderful people. Indeed, for every intelligent, well-rounded person out there, there seems to be yet another one, and another one, and another one. Here, we are surrounded by smart, gifted people, and it’s only natural for us to compare ourselves to one another. After all, that’s how we determine who gets the titles, the MVPs, the Book Prizes. So we set standards for ourselves, and most of the time, they’re quite unrealistic.

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For the majority of my life, I was trying so hard to be someone I was not. I was trying to be one of the twenty to thirty people I knew who were amazing in math and science, who were great writers, and who eventually got huge scholarships to one of the Ivy Leagues. I tried going there. But the reality is . . . well . . . I struggle with math, I’m not that great at science, and writing just doesn’t come naturally to me. Yet I was constantly being told to be like this person or be like that person. I had standards to maintain.

Standards? What standards?

On what basis are such standards being made? For the average person? The average smart person? The average Chinese person living in America? Everybody’s like that, all great and smart, because it just automatically comes with the Chinese stereotype, so let’s just compare you with them.

Puhlease!

Comparing me with others is like comparing apples to cars. I know for sure that I am no average person. You are not average, no one here is average, (I mean, we go to Reserve, come on), and nobody in this world is average, so why hold me up to a standard that doesn’t even apply to me?

I am an individual, you are an individual, and we are each special and unique, gifted and talented in our own unique ways, and it is our job to do what we do best, while improving on our weaknesses. You are you, I am me, so why take that individuality away?

It took me a very long time to realize that music was “my thing.”

For the longest time, I didn’t think I was talented, or had the work ethic and patience for being a musician. It’s a dangerous and unstable profession. In order to be truly successful, one must be absolutely outstanding; there is simply no space for mediocrity. But in the end, I succumbed to what was inevitable: becoming a musician, and loving it.

Because that is who I am. At the end of the day, when I’ve done all the practicing and preparation I can, standards need not apply. The point is never to win, or to perform the best. It is to put myself out there and make some pure, beautiful music. That is why I do what I do. The winning and performing the best is just a nice perk—well, a very nice perk.

So screw standards. They only lead to disappointment, because we have failed to become something or someone we wanted to be. Yes, use them as a benchmark to measure your place in society, but they should never be the ultimate goal.

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We cannot hold ourselves accountable for being someone else, someone we are not. Rather, we must strive to be better versions of ourselves, because the only way is up.

So This I Believe, be the best version of yourself that you can possibly be. Put yourself out there, and do everything with all your heart. It’s the best that you can do. There will not be any regrets, or disappointments, and hopefully everything will fall into place, because you know that you did all you could. Life can be limitless—all you have to do is be a better you. Nobody can be better at that except for you. All you need to do is to self-evaluate and improve.

So let us become better people, better friends, better siblings, better students, better sons and daughters, better role models, better teammates. Stop comparing yourself to others and looking at others as competitors, but as someone you simply “do your thing” with. So let’s be a better, more improved, us.

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APRIL 3, 2014 Angelle (Jelly) Henkelmann Senior Baton Rouge, Louisisna

I am really excited to speak today. My goal is to share something that I have learned over the course of many years. This lesson is one of self-discovery. I realize that you probably won’t walk away with an entirely new understanding of life, but I do hope that my experience encourages some reflection.

Growing up, I have learned to allow my beliefs to change with new experiences and knowledge. I believe that before we can be open to change, we must not only be able to find strength in ourselves, but also to accept the love of others. Four years ago, it would have been difficult for me to tell you what I believed; because quite frankly, I didn’t believe in anything. In retrospect, I realize that those beliefs that I claimed as my own were actually a bunch of baloney. At that time, I believed what others told me to believe, what I’d heard and never questioned, or what I thought I was supposed to believe. As a freshman listening to “This I Believe” speeches, I knew that I would give one as a senior. But first I had to find something to believe in and the courage to stand up here and tell you. Here is how I’ve come to believe what I do today.

At the beginning of high school, I was dependent on others for my sense of purpose and understanding. I found it safer to agree and “go with the flow” than to develop my own opinions. I built my life on the assurance of others. However, I soon learned that circumstances change and people say goodbye. As my social support shifted, I found myself wandering outside of my comfort zone. For the first time in my life, I was forced to start thinking independently. Although challenging, this process of discovery encouraged me to find answers within myself.

Sometime after overcoming my need to rely on others, I found myself at the other end of the spectrum. At this time, I didn’t allow myself to develop meaningful social connections because of my misguided belief that if I reconnected with others, I would lose my newfound independence. While I had once relied heavily on others, at this time, I found myself rejecting the love and support of my friends and family.

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Now that you’ve heard about my experiences over the past few years, I want to share with you what I have learned. I believe that it is easy to fall into a pattern of relying on others, and it is equally easy to dismiss others in order to guard yourself. It takes strength, therefore, to find a balance between dependence and independence. I’ve learned during my time at Reserve that although we have the strength within ourselves to make changes, we also need to accept the love of our friends.

Even though we need one another, sometimes we must say goodbye. When I was younger, I viewed goodbyes negatively because of the sadness I associated with them. I see now that although deeper friendships hold the potential to invoke harder goodbyes, the meaning gained from the friendship ultimately proves stronger than the temporary sadness associated with the goodbye. In just a few short weeks, the senior class will enter into the world beyond Reserve, and we will say goodbye to one another for the week, the summer, or the rest of our lives (or at least until we bump into each other on the street). To guide us in our journey, we will have the powerful emotional memories of our experiences together, something much more profound than words.

A few years ago, a friend of mine shared a quotation from Winnie the Pooh in her “This I Believe” speech that made a lasting influence on me: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart and I’ll stay there forever.” This friend helped me become the person I am today, as have each of you. Thank you. I appreciate your kindness and your friendship, as they have made an immeasurable difference in my life. Growing up, I hoped that I could one day change the world. Now I realize that it is not the world I need to change, but myself. I believe that if we have the courage to change ourselves, we can make an impact on those around us, who will make an impact on those around them, and in a process, we will indeed have changed the world. I believe that only after we have found the strength within ourselves and accepted the love offered to us, can we truly love others and make a difference in the world.

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APRIL 7, 2014 Camry Harris Senior Hinkley, Ohio

Think about how slugs exist. These tiny smudges of slime spend their short days eating plant life—or maybe some dead matter. And what do they seem to matter? Well, not much, considering their small size as compared to the infinite and ever-expanding host that houses them. But they’re right there. In grass and gardens, forests and sidewalks, these nuggets of guts and genetics and grossness just . . . exist.

And so do flowers and boys. So do muscle cars with racing stripes, noses, thunderstorms, books, fleece blankets, baby goats, and even robots.

Ok, ok, I want us all to do a thing. It is cool. It is mind-blowing.

And it is essentially pointless. On the count of three, on three, we’re all going to crack our knuckles at the same time! Okay? 1 . . . 2 . . . 3! (*Everyone proceeds to crack their knuckles, and it sounds like the best thing ever.*) Yeah, wow! And that moment just now, did it really add up to anything, considering the history of life, the universe, and everything? No. But we liked it.

Take away for a moment whatever it is we have named all these incredible, or strange, things and what we have perceived them as, and they’re all just a conglomeration of atoms in different arrangements.

And that’s amazing! Not only the fact that the brains of all living things take in this dynamically-layered code of elements and assign them names and roles, but that these things are here. And so are we.

And there are so many things we cannot control—from which leaves fall off the trees first to which stars will be the next to die. But we can control some things. Like, sometimes, what we look at—or what we choose to mind. What we’re alive to, versus that to which we are numb.

And as poet Rachel Kann slammed it: I know that everything within this surface glimpse of reality is infinitely simple and perfectly complicated I know that being dated and over it Is way overrated.

And that the colors of this world

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Only seem faded in direct relation to the darkness with which your mind's eye is shaded, And you made it that way.

And you can choose to change your vision's prismic range today.

So how do we change this, this dulling of synapses, this fading light in our minds? Well, do you remember all that stuff I was talking about, you know, boys and books and atoms? That’s it. Look at things and think about them. Wonder about them and be in wonder of them.

For example, you might see me jolt to a stop every so often because I see a leaf and think it’s a slug, or slow down because I want to praise a spider for its excellent web. Or maybe I’ll be squeezing my arm because there are bones in there! There is a spooky skeleton inside of me—and all of you! That is amazing. But that doesn’t seem to be what we think about too often.

We have our stressors. We get worried. We get anxious. We don’t want to think about what makes us nervous—or we think about it too much. In this rushing existence we cut out the stimuli to make us more efficient. We may brush off certain things and give an excuse: “Oh, life sucks.” No. Life does not suck. It is. Life is merciless, but not aggressive. Know this. Know the stressors, and the bad, and the eventual complete rearrangement of all that you are made of into everything else. But also remember that the bad things and the good things are both just . . . things. And love them. They give us life, as we perceive it. A life of endless bliss would know no bliss at all. And a life of endless suffering would know nothing better. Life is synthesis.

Instead of just cutting away what bothers you, add more of the wonder and excitement that existence also offers. Don’t numb the stress, displace it. If you find yourself with your glass full of woe, fill it up with something shiny, like, green marbles or maybe “Bohemian Rhapsody” and shout EUREKA! This I Believe: Look. Look around you and take in the sounds and sights and sensations. But don’t just leave it at that. Look at something and say, “Why is that there? How is it there? It’s . . . it’s . . . there!” Look on your desk and on the ground. Look at faces, and at teeth, and at hands. Look at cool clothes and cooler cars. Look at yourself and say, “I’m glad that I exist.”

[*Editor’s note: The group knuckle-cracking things was pretty darn cool.]

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APRIL 14, 2014 Miranda Fetterman Senior Hudson, Ohio

In the fourth grade, I went to fat camp.

I guarantee you that at this point, all of my close friends, a solid percentage of my classmates, and most members of my sports teams are rolling their eyes, and with good reason. They know the story I’m referring to, and they know it well. Too well, probably.

See, there are a few stories that have become so great a part of who I am that I often revert to recounting them when I meet new people.

My friends say they’re how I introduce myself, and they’re not exaggerating. There’s the “Prosperous Doug the Model/Doctor” speech, the “I survived Catholic school” speech, and—my bread and butter—the “I went to fat camp” speech.

Upon careful consideration, I’ve realized that the fat camp speech is so close to my heart because it reconciles two very important pieces of who I am: the pessimist and the punchline.

Whether you laugh with me, laugh at me, or don’t laugh at all, it doesn’t matter. In my mind, the image of a bunch of hefty preteens squeezed into too-small graphic t-shirts and jewel-toned velour tracksuits wheezing their way around the Life Center’s indoor track looking like some busted Teletubbies trying to outrun hordes of Kelly Ripa-looking soccer moms is funny. It’s funny to look back on the phases I’ve gone through, and it’s important for me to maintain a sense of humor when it comes to myself.

See, the sense of self-deprecation that makes joking about myself so compelling to me is something I picked up right around the fat camp era of my life. Before then, the word used most often to describe me was “nice.” Truth be told, I was a far better person back then. I simply wanted to like people, and I wanted them to like me back.

Unfortunately, I overlooked something critical: I was not cute. The kids in my class were kind enough to point this out to me, and being the idiot we all are in middle school, I took their thoughtless words to heart.

On the bright side, I got skinny. On the less-than-bright side, I got scared.

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Since those days, I live in abject terror of failure. The sad truth is people are nicer to you when you’re not chubby and awkward-looking.

Classmates, waiters, even teachers treated Miranda 2.0 better, and it changed me. On the one hand, it made me happy: I was finally the kind of pretty that people responded to. But on the other hand, it made me weak. I was—I am—so afraid of losing that approval, of being the butt of someone else’s joke, that I often shut down. I retreat behind the walls of stories I know will work, of jokes I know will land. In the immortal words of everyone’s favorite stripper, Gypsy Rose Lee, I don’t let people laugh at me because I laugh first. As a result, far too often you all are stuck with the scripted version of me, the one whose jokes are probably getting a bit old. And what for?

The truth is a lot of you know exactly what for. Social anxiety is increasingly common among teens and young adults and is often prevalent in high-pressure environments like this one.

But know this: the world is not out to hurt us, or scare us, or even notice us. And though apathy is sometimes as intimidating as scrutiny, you’ve got to remember that people—especially teenagers—are more afraid of you than you are of them. Most of us are too caught up in judging ourselves to worry about other people’s faults; in all honesty, the ones confident enough to see outside themselves rarely feel the need to cut others down. That’s the good thing. The world is full of awesome people—truly awesome, inspiring, mind-blowing people—who will happily help you navigate through the terror that is growing up.

I wish I could tell you that I’m over it all, that I love who I am and how I look and how I sound and how I stack up. But I’m not, and I don’t. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be afraid, because that’s when a person learns to be brave. And despite the fear, these days I can walk to the Green Key alone. I can get super TGI-Freaky with my friends, and talk to freshmen in the locker room, and stay calm when a friend asks the cute guy selling five-dollar crepes if he has change for a hundred. Small victories like picking up the phone when a friend calls just to say hello or calling the delivery guy at Papa Johns, like, six times because he can’t find Bicknell and someone has given him a phone number that literally does not exist; they sound so insignificant, but they give me hope for a stronger future. It’s hard, and I suspect it will always be hard, but I am learning.

These hard lessons take good teachers, and I’m lucky to learn from the best friends I could hope for.

My friends are far better than me at everything. Each one blows me out of the water in some way or other. They are stronger, smarter,

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wiser, kinder, and braver than I can imagine being. They are, in essence, the kind of people I want to be when, with their help, I finally do grow up. They don’t hate me for not knowing who I am; and when I’m lost they remind me where I’m headed. And so do all of you.

So, at last, this I believe, the most important thing a person can say is thank you, and this seems like a good place to do just that. Thank you, all of you, for teaching me. You have scared the absolute bejeezus out of me, and done so repeatedly and inventively. You have made me a better me. You have made me just a little bit brave.

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MAY 2, 2014 Maggie Wise Senior Hudson, Ohio

Intensity. Life, every minute of every hour of every day, is meant to be lived with intensity. Intense understanding, intense compassion, intense optimism, and above all, intense love. When brought together, these traits make an individual beautiful. One such beautiful person was my grandmother, Virginia Armington, or as she was affectionately known to her grandchildren, “Honey.� I know everyone will say that their grandmother is the best grandma in the world, but Honey wasn’t only a grandma to my brother, cousins, and me, but was also the most beautiful and genuine human being anyone could ever hope to know. No matter if you had just briefly met her in passing, or had conversations with her every day, she impacted your life and changed you for the better.

Every moment of her life was lived with intensity. She was diagnosed with MS in her mid-thirties and developed bone cancer in her eighties. Due to her MS, she could not run or dance and at times even had difficulty walking the short distance from her kitchen to her living room. However, there was never a time when I did not see her smiling.

Her arms and ears were open to every individual, whether that be friends, family, or the people she happened to bump into in the hallways of Laurel Lake; and she listened intently to every story that passed her way. Her compassion and understanding allowed her always to give the best advice and show people the way to who they wanted to be.

One of my best friends loves music and playing the flute and guitar, but she was never quite sure how she could ever incorporate that love into a practical profession when she got older. After listening to my friend play her flute, my grandma suggested a career in music therapy for older citizens. My friend now works part time at a retirement home in Loveland, Ohio playing her flute and is pursuing a major in musical therapy at the University of Dayton in the fall.

Not only was Honey always eager to help others through her understanding and compassion, but her optimism was unparalleled. She knew each day was a gift, regardless of her disabilities, and she did not intend to waste any minute of it sulking and complaining about

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circumstances that she could not change. No matter what the circumstance, whether pertaining to herself or another individual, she would find the silver lining and push people forward. Perhaps the best example of this was when my brother, Peter Armington, died at the age of four. My grandmother brought my mother out of the darkness and into the light to realize that we now all had our own guardian angel watching out for us from above. If it were not for my grandmother’s optimism for new life after my brother’s death, I would not be here today. Although sometimes it is not the way we originally planned, or as Honey would say, “Everything happens for a reason.” My grandmother was not only compassionate, understanding, and optimistic, she also lived every day with the most intense form of love I have ever known. She loved all people, just in different ways. She always said that you should tell people you love them every day, even if it is just by giving them a smile.

One of the best lessons my grandmother taught me was to live for the little moments in life. She wholeheartedly believed that no matter what the circumstance, popping in a Disney movie and getting a burger and a milkshake from Dairy Queen would solve all of the heartache in the world. Perhaps that is why I bake so much. Because no matter what, being given a cookie always makes your day a little bit better. The simple little moments are what make life special, and these little moments all come from a form of intensity.

I have been called “intense” numerous times by my friends on the sports field and when simply hanging out. I always thought it was because I believe, as many of you have heard me say before, that “hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.” But then I thought it was because I have pulled countless all-nighters baking and writing notes to friends and others to cheer them up from a rough day or week, or just to put a smile on their face.

When first called intense by a close friend of mine, I was disheartened. I would have much rather been called inspirational or motivated, or some other positive attribute. However, as I see it now, intense is possibly the most meaningful thing someone could call me.

Calling me intense means that I have at least some small part of my grandmother in me. To live intensely means to encompass motivation, compassion, understanding, optimism, and love. Living intensely means to live each moment in the present and to take full advantage of it.

Whenever I make a mistake, especially on the sports field, I break down inside. Not only because I feel that I have let myself down, but also because I feel that I have let my team down. However, as my

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grandmother taught me, mistakes and our past are what propel us forward to a better and wiser us. We should never regret any part of our lives because we are an accumulation of all of our past moments. Each moment transports us to a new version of ourselves.

This I believe, the last words Honey ever said to me, “Dwell not on the past. Use it to illustrate a point then move on. Nothing really matters except for what you do now, in this moment in time. From this moment onward you can be an entirely different person, filled with love and understanding, ready with an outstretched hand, uplifted and positive in every thought and deed.�

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MAY 2, 2014 Griffin Trau Senior Culver, Indiana

It’s difficult now for me to imagine a day when I’m not at Reserve. When I first set foot on campus, yes the original freshman year, everything seemed different. And by that I mean that the school felt huge. Not knowing the names of any buildings, let alone any people, had me feeling that I had opened the mother of all Pandora’s boxes -and anything could happen. Long story short, a lot did happen.

It was with a day student, of all people, that I first ventured downtown for lunch. We got lost in the major metropolitan area of Hudson, Ohio; and were five minutes late to Mrs. Campbell’s class. We feared expulsion. Imagine our shock when our freshmen English teacher offered us beer instead . . . beer bread that is. And, thankfully, much of that first year served similarly to introduce the Reserve community to me.

Finding home at Reserve is perhaps the most irreplaceable element to an enjoyable experience here. I swore by the fact that one of the reasons we were sent to orientation off-campus was to be put in a dorm so inferior to either Woodhouse or Ellsworth, that by comparison, they would seem like home. I suppose it worked, because I actually said, “I can’t wait to get home,” on the bus ride back to campus. And ever since, the lawns’ wide sweep has seemed smaller and more comfortable with each passing semester. In fact, Reserve has truly become a home to me—as familiar and comfortable as the one I left in 8th grade to attend a boarding school. And this, undoubtedly, means that it’s time for me to get the heck outta of here.

So now you’re thinking, Yeah! Great! Let’s go . . . hmmm . . . not so fast. I can really only say this after five action packed years. Yes, five. And at 19 years, 6 months, and 10 days old, that slightly exceeds 25% of my life. [Though as a brief aside, let us all consider that we have not been here for 47 years, like Señor. After a little math, and some guesswork (because nobody really knows Señor’s true age), 47 years has got to be approaching 70% of his life and 25% of the school’s history!]

But as the lesson goes, this is not as much a matter of time, as time management. So I beg all of you to think at some point about what

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you do. That is, if I were to ask your friends, what might they tell me about you? Ask anybody about me and they will probably tell you I am always injured. And that is fine, because after a broken and dislocated sternum and collarbone, a shattered collar bone, a stress-fractured foot, a pair of broken fingers, a broken toe, a blown-out knee, a few torn hamstrings, countless muscle strains, and a pair of reconstructive surgeries, I would be lying to deny it.

But I didn’t get these lovely bumps and bruises from falling down the stairs or slipping on a banana peel, I got them whenever I decided that lowering my shoulder into a guy who is 60 pounds heavier was a great idea. Believe it or not, the situation didn’t usually end badly.

This is just what I do: I play sports—as many as I can. I love the competition, the action, the team dynamic, and the emotions. And as one of my greatest passions, it is part of my identity.

The Brick Row community that we always talk about is not some separate entity that we come to this chapel in Reserve Green to worship.

We are the Reserve community, and we are its identity. In effect, we are our school; so take pride. Every single person here is a unique part of our pleasant little bubble. Our diverse interests allow us to branch out, learn, and find our own distinguishing features. We should all strive to contribute as much of ourselves to each other as we can. It’s a selfless act with incredible rewards; but it’s a group effort.

So this I believe, it’s long my time to go; but it’s yours to rise. If you use your Reserve experience to discover and bring who you are, and what you love doing, to fruition, it will give you purpose and continue to give our school an identity we can all be proud of.

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VIEWPOINTS SURVEY: SPRING 2014 KEY Day Student

Boarding Student

Faculty/Staff

♂

Male

♀

Female

Non-binary

Freshman

Sophomore

Junior

Senior

T

TOTAL

179

< As a Citizen of the World > To which major political party/category do you either belong or most closely associate yourself?

Democrat 18.7%

23.7%

20.0%

17.8%

♂ 28.5% ♀ 24.5%

0.0%

41.3% 22.1%

25.5%

T26.1%

Republican 25.3%

26.3%

26.7%

17.8%

♂ 24.4% ♀ 27.9% %

0.0%

27.0% 29.4%

27.5%

T26.1%

Independent 13.2%

3.4%

2.2%

8.9%

♂ 9.8% ♀ 11.6% %

0.0%

20.6% 13.2%

3.9%

T10.7%

Libertarian 4.4%

8.5%

6.7%

50.0%

3.2% 4.4%

7.4%

♂ 8.9% ♀ 2.7% %

7.8%

T5.9%

Other 0.0% 2.2%

5.9% 2.2%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 2.0% %

0.0%

4.8% 1.5%

7.8%

T3.7%

Undecided 38.5% 42.2%

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32,2% 48.9%

50.0%

3.2% 26.5%

♂ 22.8% ♀ 31.3% %

27.5%

T27.6%

Which of the following best describes your level of political involvement and/or understanding?

I don’t care about, nor do I pay much attention to, political issues at all.

8.8%

11.0%

13.3%

8.9%

♂ 9.8% ♀ 6.8%

0.0%

1.6% 10.3%

7.8%

T8.1%

I’m somewhat interested in political issues, but I only know about what I hear around campus or at home.

61.5%

52.5%

64.4%

100.0%

14.3%

60.0%

55.9%

♂ 41.5% ♀ 50.3% %

47.1%

T46.7%

I’m quite interested in political issues, and I try to read a news source whenever I have the time.

19.8%

30.5%

13.3%

0.0%

55.6%

24.4%

25.0%

♂ 34.2% ♀ 32.0% %

39.2%

T32.7%

I’m extremely interested in the world of politics and current social issues, and I make sure to update myself daily on national news and current events.

9.9% 8.9%

5.9%

0.0%

28.6% 6.7%

8.8%

♂ 14.6% ♀ 10.9% %

5.9%

T12.5%

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How often do you engage in a conversation that covers politics or current events?

Very often, at least 2 or 3 times a week 16.5% 15.6%

13.6% 8.9%

♂ 22.0% ♀ 13.6%

0.0%

25.4% 20.6%

11.8%

T17.3%

Regularly, once a week or so 23.1% 13.3%

29.7%

50.0%

36.5%

35.6%

26.5%

♂ 34.2% ♀ 24.5%

31.4%

T29.0%

Occasionally, once every few weeks 34.1% 46.7%

30.5%

50.0%

30.2%

22.2%

30.9%

♂ 25.2% ♀ 36.7%

29.4%

T31.6%

Only very rarely 19.8% 17.8%

15.3%

0.0%

6.4%

22.2%

8.8%

♂ 11.4% ♀ 17.7% %

23.5%

T14.7%

Almost never 6.6% 6.7%

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11.0% 11.1%

0.0%

1.6% 13.2%

♂ 7.3% ♀ 7.5% %

3.9%

T7.6%

Who do you feel was most to blame for the government shutdown in October of last year?

President Barack Obama 6.6%

5.1%

2.2%

2.2%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 7.5%

0.0%

9.5% 8.8%

7.8%

T6.6%

The Democrats in Congress 6.6%

7.6%

8.9%

6.7%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 6.1% %

0.0%

1.6% 8.8%

3.9%

T5.9%

The Republicans in Congress 15.4%

16.1%

13.3%

11.1%

♂ 26.8% ♀ 16.3% %

0.0%

38.1% 17.7%

19.6%

T21.0%

Both political parties share equal blame in the matter.

30.8%

33.1%

26.7%

33.3%

♂ 35.0% ♀ 35.4% %

0.0%

44.4% 30.9%

37.3%

T34.9%

I don’t feel knowledgeable enough about the issue to have an informed opinion.

39.6%

36.4%

44.4%

100.0%

6.4%

46.7%

33.8%

♂ 25.2% ♀ 34.0% %

29.4%

T30.5%

I was not even aware that the U.S. government had shut down.

1.1% 4.4%

1.7%

0.0%

0.0% 0.0%

0.0%

♂ 1.6% ♀ 0.7% %

2.0%

T1.1%

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Do you think this past winter’s extreme weather conditions were in any ways linked to human influenced global climate change?

Yes. I believe that modern human society is altering our climate and beginning to adversely affect the planet.

46.2% 60.0%

44.1% 44.4%

♂ 50.4% ♀ 50.3%

0.0%

66.7% 41.2%

37.3%

T50.0%

Though evidence exists suggesting that the global climate has been changing, I don’t believe there is sufficient evidence yet that humans are primarily responsible.

25.3% 17.8%

25.4%

50.0%

14.3%

26.7%

23.5%

♂ 20.3% ♀ 24.5% %

33.3%

T22.8%

Definitely not. It’s called “global warming,” not “global cooling”! (I believe our planet naturally and regularly cycles through such periods of extreme weather.)

17.6% 8.9%

12.7% 13.3%

♂ 15.5% ♀ 14.3% %

0.0%

14.3% 17.7%

17.7%

T14.7%

No opinion 11.0% 13.3%

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17.8% 15.6%

50.0%

4.8% 17.7%

♂ 13.8% ♀ 10.9% %

11.8%

T12.5%

Which of the following best describes your views gay marriage?

It should be legal everywhere in the United States 68.1%

77.1%

62.2%

100.0%

74.6%

86.7%

72.1%

♂ 67.5% ♀ 78.2%

72.6%

T73.5%

The institution of marriage should be legal only between a man and a woman, but some other legal arrangement, such as a “civil union,” could be made available for same-sex couples.

17.6%

8.5%

13.3%

0.0%

15.9% 4.4%

14.7%

♂ 14.6% ♀ 12.2% %

15.7%

T13.2%

There should be no legal recognition by any state of either marriage or civil union between two people of the same sex.

5.5%

5.1%

8.9%

0.0%

1.6% 6.7%

2.9%

♂ 4.9% ♀ 4.1% %

3.9%

T4.4%

Undecided / no opinion 8.8% 15.6%

9.3%

0.0%

7.9% 2.2%

10.3%

♂ 13.0% ♀ 5.4% %

7.8%

T8.8%

185

Which of the following statements best matches your own views regarding the issue of gun control laws in the United States?

I think there need to be much more stringent controls on the sale and ownership of firearms. All buyers of guns should have to undergo background checks to make it harder for weapons to end up in the hands of criminals and those with a history of mental illness and certain types of weapons and accessories (such as assualt rifles and large-magazine clips) should be outlawed.

42.9% 37.8%

50.9% 44.4%

♂ 48.8% ♀ 59.2%

0.0%

76.2% 50.0%

54.9%

T54.0%

I think universal background checks would be a good idea, but I am not sure there is any need to outlaw specific kinds of guns or rifles. The right to own these weapons is protected by our constitution.

36.3% 33.3%

25.4%

50.0%

14.3%

31.1%

30.9%

♂ 27.6% ♀ 25.2% %

25.5%

T26.5%

I don’t think there is a need to pass any additional restrictions on the sale or use of firearms. Indeed, we should make it easier for law-abiding citizens to carry firearms. If more such citizens were armed on a regular basis the country would be safer because we would be surrounded by people better able to react to and neutralize those intent on doing us harm.

8.8% 11.1%

11.9%

0.0%

7.9%

8.9%

11.8%

♂ 13.8% ♀ 6.8% %

9.8%

T9.9%

I don’t feel knowledgeable enough about the issue to have an informed opinion.

12.1% 17.8%

186

11.9% 15.7%

0.0%

1.6% 7.3%

♂ 9.8% ♀ 8.8% %

9.8%

T9.6%

Which of the following statements best matches your own views regarding the legalization of marijuana?

Marijuana is a dangerous “gateway drug” that is dangerous to one’s health and highly addictive. In the interests of public health, it should be illegal everywhere throughout the United States.

12.1%

14.4%

8.9%

6.7%

♂ 13.0% ♀ 15.0%

0.0%

15.9% 17.7%

17.7%

T14.0%

It is a potentially dangerous substance, but it has been shown to carry benefits for some people with certain medical conditions (e.g. those undergoing chemo therapy, people with glaucoma, etc.) and so should be available for legal purchase as a prescribed drug.

44.0%

23.7%

44.4%

50.0%

33.3%

35.6%

23.5%

♂ 35.0% ♀ 30.6% %

31.4%

T32.7%

Marijuana use certainly carries risks, but so too does the use of cigarettes and alcohol—which are both legal for adults. History shows that prohibition is generally ineffective. Therefore, marijuana should be legalized, and its growers and sellers regulated and taxed. Money currently being spent on anti-drug enforcement could then be shifted into drug education and treatment.

39.6%

54.2%

33.3%

51.1%

♂ 48.0% ♀ 48.3% %

0.0%

47.6% 55.9%

47.1%

T47.8%

I don’t feel knowledgeable enough about the issue to have an informed opinion.

4.44% 13.3%

7.6%

50.0%

3.2% 6.7%

2.9%

♂ 4.0% ♀ 6.1% %

3.9%

T5.5%

187

Which of the following statements best matches your own views regarding an increase in the Federal Minimum Wage?

I think Minimum Wage should be increased to $10.10 because it will help millions of Americans and will also benefit the economy.

22.0%

23.7%

31.1%

20.0%

♂ 28.5% ♀ 32.7%

0.0%

55.6% 23.5%

17.7%

T30.5%

I think Minimum Wage should be increased, but $10.10 is too high of an amount.

16.5%

11.9%

11.1%

20.0%

♂ 12.2% ♀ 14.3% %

0.0%

11.1% 10.3%

15.7%

T13.2%

I don’t think Minimum Wage should be increased, but I do think that states should readjust their Minimum Wage based off of the cost of living in that state.

24.2%

28.8%

13.3%

15.6%

♂ 23.6% ♀ 27.9% %

0.0%

22.2% 30.9%

43.1%

T25.7%

I don’t think Minimum Wage should be increased because $7.25 is a fair amount to pay those working Minimum Wage jobs.

6.6%

2.5%

4.4%

11.1%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 2.0% %

0.0%

1.6% 2.9%

0.0%

T3.7%

I don’t think we should even have a Federal Minimum Wage.

5.5% 2.2%

3.4% 2.2%

♂ 8.1% ♀ 0.7% %

0.0%

3.2% 5.9%

5.9%

T4.0%

I don’t feel knowlesgeable enough about the issue to have an informed opinion.

25.3% 37.8%

188

29.7% 31.1%

100.0%

6.3% 26.5%

♂ 22.0% ♀ 22.5% %

17.7%

T22.8%

Which of the following statements best reflect your views regarding the role America should play in the world today?

I think the U.S. should play a major role in promoting democracy and human rights—and reducing human suffering and misery—and should be prepared to deploy resources and foreign aid in times of crisis and employ diplomatic pressure, economic sanctions, and even military force, if necessary, to counteract the forces of oppression, terror, or disorder.

19.8% 15.6%

11.9% 17.8%

♂ 18.7% ♀ 15.7%

0.0%

22.2% 14.7%

13.7%

T16.9%

I think the U.S. should play a major role in promoting democracy and human rights—and reducing human suffering and misery—but we should stop short of employing military forces except in the rarest of circumstances and only if joined in such efforts by other partner nations.

47.3% 37.8%

44.1%

50.0%

54.0%

44.4%

48.5%

♂ 46.3% ♀ 48.3% %

49.0%

T47.4%

I think the U.S. has enough issues/problems to deal with right at home and should not incur the expense of acting as the world’s policeman or protector.

19.8% 17.8%

17.8%

50.0%

17.5%

20.0%

19.1%

♂ 19.5% ♀ 17.0% %

17.7%

T18.4%

It reveals an extreme arrogance for the United States to act as if it knows what is best for the rest of the world. It should only become involved in the outside world when it is explicitly invited to do so by another nation.

3.3% 2.2%

12.7%

0.0%

4.8%

6.7%

8.8%

♂ 9.8% ♀ 6.1% %

15.7%

T7.7%

I don’t feel knowledgeable enough about the issue to have an informed opinion.

9.9% 26.7%

13.6% 11.1%

0.0%

1.6% 8.8%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 12.9% %

3.9%

T9.6%

189

< As a Citizen of Reserve > What is your favorite non-dormitory building on campus?

The Chapel 7.7%

6.8%

4.4%

6.7%

♂ 10.6% ♀ 12.9%

0.0%

27.0% 5.9%

11.8%

T11.8%

Hayden Hall 9.9% 6.7%

8.5% 13.3%

♂ 6.5% ♀ 8.2% %

0.0%

1.6% 10.3%

5.9%

T7.6%

KFAC 22.0% 33.3%

23.7%

100.0%

3.2%

20.0%

25.0%

♂ 15.5% ♀ 19.7% %

13.7%

T18.4%

MAC 25.3% 26.7%

190

28.0% 40.0%

0.0%

17.5% 22.1%

♂ 25.2% ♀ 24.5% %

21.6%

T24.6%

Seymour Hall 12.1%

11.0%

13.3%

0.0%

7.9%

4.4%

7.4%

♂ 13.8% ♀ 8.2% 21.6%

T10.7%

Wilson Hall 16.5%

13.6%

11.1%

0.0%

9.5%

11.1%

23.5%

♂ 17.9% ♀ 10.2% %

9.8%

T13.6%

No opinion / no preference 6.6% 4.4%

8.5%

0.0%

33.3% 4.4%

5.9%

♂ 10.6% ♀ 16.3% %

15.7%

T13.6%

191

While school is in session, approximately how many hours of sleep (on average) do you get each school night?

More than 9 0.0%

0.0%

0.0%

0.0%

♂ 0.0% ♀ 0.0%

0.0%

0.0% 0.0%

0.0%

T0.0%

Between 8 and 9 4.4%

3.4%

11.1%

4.4%

♂ 4.1% ♀ 4.1% %

0.0%

4.8% 1.5%

0.0%

T4.0%

Between 7 and 8 29.7%

22.9%

35.6%

26.7%

♂ 31.7% ♀ 21.8% %

0.0%

27.0% 19.1%

25.5%

T26.1%

Between 6 and 7 33.0%

44.1%

24.4%

100.0%

36.5%

44.4%

38.2%

♂ 37.4% ♀ 38.8% %

49.0%

T38.6%

Between 5 and 6 22.0%

23.7%

17.8%

0.0%

28.6%

20.0%

30.9%

♂ 22.8% ♀ 25.9% %

16.9%

T24.3%

Fewer than 5 11.0% 11.1%

192

5.9%

0.0%

3.2% 4.4%

10.3%

♂ 4.07% ♀ 9.5% %

5.9%

T7.0%

How many books did you read last summer (not counting any required reading)?

More than 10 14.3% 15.6%

8.5% 17.8%

♂ 7.3% ♀ 16.3%

0.0%

15.9% 10.3%

2.0%

T12.1%

Between 6 and 10 14.3% 22.2%

13.6% 8.9%

♂ 13.8% ♀ 19.7% %

0.0%

27.0% 13.2%

11.8%

T16.9%

Between 3 and 5 27.5% 33.3%

29.7%

100.0%

31.7%

28.9%

25.0%

♂ 26.0% ♀ 31.3% %

29.4%

T29.4%

1 or 2 30.8% 22.2%

33.1%

0.0%

19.0%

22.2%

39.7%

♂ 32.5% ♀ 26.5% %

39.2%

T29.0%

None 13.2% 6.7%

15.3% 22.2%

0.0%

6.4% 11.8%

♂ 20.3% ♀ 6.1% %

11.7%

T12.5%

193

What is your favorite time of year on campus?

Early Fall: August through September 35.2%

28.8%

37.8%

37.8%

♂ 34.2% ♀ 37.4%

0.0%

49.2% 30.9%

21.6%

T35.7%

Late Fall: October through December 5.5%

10.2%

13.3%

2.2%

♂ 12.2% ♀ 7.5% %

0.0%

14.3% 5.9%

11.8%

T9.6%

Winter: January to spring break 1.1%

5.1%

4.4%

2.2%

♂ 3.3% ♀ 2.0% %

0.0%

0.0% 1.5%

5.9%

T2.6%

Spring: April through May 53.9%

55.1%

35.6%

100.0%

30.2%

55.6%

61.8%

♂ 48.0% ♀ 49.0% %

60.8%

T48.9%

No preference 4.4% 8.9%

194

0.9%

0.0%

6.4% 2.2%

0.0%

♂ 2.4% ♀ 4.1% %

0.0%

T3.3%

Which of the following is your preferred downtown Hudson dining establishment?

3 Palms 4.4%

2.5%

4.4%

2.2%

♂ 4.9% ♀ 6.1%

0.0%

12.7% 4.4%

2.0%

T5.5%

Aladdin’s 9.9%

8.5%

4.4%

2.2%

♂ 4.9% ♀ 18.4% %

0.0%

22.2% 16.2%

9.8%

T12.1%

Chipotle 41.8%

38.1%

28.9%

50.0%

4.8%

51.1%

38.2%

♂ 39.0% ♀ 25.2% %

41.2%

T31.6%

Dave’s Cosmic Subs 14.3%

6.8%

15.6%

6.7%

♂ 8.1% ♀ 8.8% %

0.0%

3.2% 11.8%

5.9%

T8.5%

Flip Side 11.0%

17.0%

20.0%

50.0%

19.1%

15.6%

16.2%

♂ 17.1% ♀ 13.6% %

5.9%

T15.4%

Hudson’s 1.1% 0.0%

7.6%

0.0%

17.5% 2.2%

1.5%

♂ 6.5% ♀ 8.8% %

15.7%

T7.7%

195

Luchita’s 1.1%

0.9%

0.0%

0.0%

1.6% 0.0%

2.9%

♂ 0.8% ♀ 1.4% 0.0%

T1.1%

McDonald’s 0.0%

0.0%

0.0%

0.0%

0.0% 0.0%

0.0%

♂ 0.0% ♀ 0.0% %

0.0%

T0.0%

Panera 5.5%

5.1%

2.2%

0.0%

1.6% 8.9%

5.9%

♂ 2.4% ♀ 6.1% %

3.9%

T4.4%

Subway 0.0%

0.9%

2.2%

0.0%

0.0% 0.0%

0.0%

♂ 0.8% ♀ 0.0% %

0.0%

T0.4%

Tomato Grill 1.1%

0.9%

2.2%

0.0%

1.6% 0.0%

1.5%

♂ 0.8% ♀ 1.4% %

0.0%

T1.1%

Yours Truly 4.4%

5.1%

4.4%

0.0%

4.8% 6.7%

0.0%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 4.1% %

9.8%

T4.8%

No opinion / none of the above 5.5% 15.6%

196

6.8%

0.0%

11.1% 4.4%

1.5%

♂ 8.9% ♀ 6.1% %

5.9%

T7.4%

[The remaining questions in this section of the survey were asked only of students.]

Some courses at WRA assign summer reading. There has in the past also been a book selected for the entire community to read. Which of the following statements best reflects your own views about required summer reading at Reserve?

I like the idea and it should be continued. In the past, I have always done the required summer reading and have usually enjoyed the books assigned. It seems a good way to get many people to enjoy a common experience.

37.4%

50.0%

33.1%

55.6%

37.8%

25.0%

♂ 35.1% ♀ 34.6% %

27.5%

T34.9%

I am somewhat ambivalent. I have sometimes done the summer reading, but not always. The books are often ones that just don’t interest me. I don’t really think it serves a great purpose.

55.0%

50.0%

54.2%

42.2%

57.8%

61.8%

♂ 53.6% ♀ 55.5% %

52.9%

T54.6%

I almost never do the summer reading. I think it’s a waste of time. We’re not really held accountable for it anyway.

7.7%

0.0%

6.8%

0.0%

4.4%

11.8%

♂ 7.2% ♀ 7.3% %

9.8%

T7.2%

Never done it . . . and never been found out!

0.0% 2.2%

0.0%

5.9% 0.0%

1.5%

♂ 4.1% ♀ 2.7% %

9.8%

T3.4%

197

What are your general feelings when it comes to the variety and volume of weekend activities that the school makes available?

I think the school does a very nice job with weekend activities. There are usually plenty of options available which represent a good mix of both major events and more minor distractions, both on and off campus.

16.5%

100.0%

17.8%

33.3%

13.3%

7.4%

♂ 15.5% ♀ 17.3%

19.6%

T17.2%

Weekend activities are a bit hit and miss, with some weekends being much better than others. I think the school could stand to offer at least a few more major events with greater frequency.

64.8%

0.0%

56.8%

55.6%

60.0%

66.2%

♂ 53.6% ♀ 67.3% %

56.9%

T60.3%

I am, more often than not, dissapointed. There is too much a reliance on movie and mall runs. It would be nice to see more of an effort made at creating better on-campus options and finding better attractions within the region.

12.1%

0.0%

22.0%

6.7%

22.2%

20.6%

♂ 23.7% ♀ 12.7% %

19.6%

T17.7%

I usually don’t take advantage of such opportunities anyways, so I am not in a position to render an informed opinion one way or the other.

6.6% 4.4%

198

0.0%

3.4% 4.4%

5.9%

♂ 7.2% ♀ 2.7% %

3.9%

T4.8%

Which of the following best describes you as regards banned substance use during your time as a Reserve student?

I have never used any banned substance (alcohol, tobacco, drugs, etc.) either on campus or off.

76.9%

100.0%

57.6%

93.3%

73.3%

55.9%

♂ 66.0% ♀ 65.5%

49.0%

T66.0%

I have never used any banned substance (alcohol, tobacco, drugs, etc.) on campus, but I have off campus.

17.6%

0.0%

21.2%

2.2%

20.0%

27.9%

♂ 18.6% ♀ 20.9% %

23.5%

T19.6%

I have used a banned substance on campus but have never been caught.

5.5%

0.0%

19.5%

4.4%

6.7%

16.2%

♂ 14.4% ♀ 12.7% %

23.5%

T13.4%

I have used a banned substance on campus and have been caught.

0.0% 0.0%

0.0%

1.7% 0.0%

0.0%

♂ 1.0% ♀ 0.9% %

3.9%

T1.0%

199

Have you at any time during the current academic year (2013-2014) violated the school’s policy regarding academic honesty (i.e. cheated on a homework assignment, quiz, test, paper, etc.)?

No 85.7%

100.0%

84.8%

91.1%

82.2%

79.4%

♂ 82.5% ♀ 87.3%

90.2%

T85.2%

Yes, but I was not caught 12.1%

0.0%

14.4%

8.9%

13.3%

19.1%

♂ 16.5% ♀ 10.9% %

9.8%

T13.4%

Yes, and I was caught 2.2% 0.0%

200

0.0%

0.9% 4.4%

1.5%

♂ 1.0% ♀ 1.8% %

0.0%

T1.4%

Do you believe that Reserve’s prefects, generally speaking, model what an ideal WRA student should be?

Yes 37.4% 51.1%

50.0%

45.8% 53.3%

32.4%

♂ 48.5% ♀ 36.4%

37.3%

T42.1%

No 26.4% 6.7%

26.7%

♂ 25.8% ♀ 38.2% %

0.0%

36.4% 42.6%

45.1%

T32.1%

Unsure 36.3% 42.2%

50.0%

17.8% 20.0%

25.0%

♂ 25.8% ♀ 25.5% %

17.6%

T25.8%

201

Do you obey the school’s dress code?

Every day, and it’s bothersome that others do not.

31.9%

50.0%

35.6%

46.7%

37.8%

29.4%

♂ 56.7% ♀ 13.6%

25.5%

T34.0%

Generally speaking, but I do let things slip from time to time.

62.6%

50.0%

58.5%

48.9%

60.0%

64.7%

♂ 41.2% ♀ 77.3% %

64.7%

T60.3%

Rarely, I think the dress code is unreasonable.

2.2%

0.0%

2.5%

0.0%

0.0%

1.5%

♂ 1.0% ♀ 3.6% %

7.8%

T2.4%

Never. But I look good enough—so chill!

2.2%

0.0%

2.5%

4.4%

0.0%

2.9%

♂ 0.0% ♀ 4.6% %

2.0%

T2.4%

The school has a dress code?!

1.1% 0.0%

202

0.0%

0.9% 2.2%

1.5%

♂ 1.0% ♀ 0.9% %

0.0%

T1.0%

Which best describes you?

I am the first person in my family ever to attend WRA. 59.3%

50.0%

70.3%

64.4%

62.2%

63.2%

♂ 61.9% ♀ 69.1%

72.5%

T65.6%

I am not the first person in my family to attend WRA, but I am the first in my immediate family (i.e. father, mother, siblings).

3.3%

50.0%

4.2%

2.2%

0.0%

2.9%

♂ 4.1% ♀ 2.7% %

9.8%

T3.8%

Neither / None of my parents attended WRA, but I do have a sibling (or siblings) who preceded me here.

23.1%

0.0%

13.6%

20.0%

17.8%

20.6%

♂ 18.6% ♀ 17.3% %

11.8%

T17.7%

I had a parent who attended WRA, but I am their first/only child to also attend.

7.7%

0.0%

5.9%

4.4%

13.3%

7.4%

♂ 9.3% ♀ 4.6% %

2.0%

T6.7%

I had a parent who attended WRA, and I also had a sibling here before me.

6.6% 8.9%

0.0%

5.9% 6.7%

5.9%

♂ 6.2% ♀ 6.4% %

3.9%

T6.2%

203

Which of the following statements best describes your feelings about your Reserve experience thus far?

I wanted to come to WRA, and I love it here.

68.1%

100.0%

48.3%

68.9%

62.2%

57.4%

♂ 61.9% ♀ 51.8%

41.2%

T56.9%

I wanted to come to school here, and it is okay here.

22.0%

0.0%

33.1%

24.4%

28.9%

30.9%

♂ 22.7% ♀ 33.6% %

27.5%

T28.2%

I wanted to come to WRA, but now I wish I’d chosen a different school.

2.2%

0.0%

7.6%

2.2%

2.2%

5.9%

♂ 4.1% ♀ 6.4% %

9.8%

T5.3%

I did not want to come to WRA, but I have actually come to like it here.

6.6%

0.0%

9.3%

2.2%

6.7%

5.9%

♂ 10.3% ♀ 6.4% %

17.6%

T8.1%

I did not want to attend WRA and still do not want to be here . . . blame my parents!

1.1% 2.2%

204

0.0%

1.7% 0.0%

0.0%

♂ 1.0% ♀ 1.8% %

3.9%

T1.4%

Do you feel as though your WRA education is preparing (or has prepared) you well for college or university success?

Yes 65.9% 37.8%

64.4%

♂ 65.0% ♀ 66.4%

0.0%

64.4% 80.9%

68.6%

T65.1%

No 2.2% 2.2%

♂ 5.2% ♀ 3.6% %

0.0%

5.9% 2.2%

2.9%

9.8%

T4.3%

Too early to say 29.7%

50.0%

26.3%

60.0%

31.1%

11.8%

♂ 28.9% ♀ 25.5% %

17.7%

T27.8%

Not sure 2.2% 0.0%

0.0%

3.4% 2.2%

4.4%

♂ 1.0% ♀ 4.6% %

3.9%

T2.9%

205

< As a Private Individual > Which of the following best describes your religious beliefs and/or practices?

Catholic 25.3%

15.3%

26.7%

0.0%

23.8%

24.4%

22.1%

♂ 20.3% ♀ 21.1% 5.9%

T20.6%

Protestant 17.6%

16.1%

15.6%

0.0%

30.2%

17.8%

11.8%

♂ 17.9% ♀ 21.8% %

23.5%

T19.9%

Jewish 1.1%

0.9%

0.0%

0.0%

3.2% 2.2%

1.5%

♂ 0.8% ♀ 2.0% %

0.0%

T1.5%

Muslim 1.1% 0.0%

206

0.0%

0.0%

0.0% 2.2%

0.0%

♂ 0.0% ♀ 0.7% %

0.0%

T0.4%

Hindu 3.3%

2.5%

0.0%

8.9%

♂ 2.4% ♀ 2.0%

0.0%

0.0% 1.5%

2.0%

T2.2%

Buddhist 3.3% 2.2%

0.9% 2.2%

♂ 1.6% ♀ 2.0% %

0.0%

1.6% 1.5%

2.0%

T1.8%

Spritual, but not currently a practicing member of any formal religion or denomination 13.2% 13.3%

17.0%

50.0%

27.0%

4.4%

17.7%

♂ 15.5% ♀ 19.7% %

23.5%

T18.0%

Atheist / Agnostic 24.2% 22.2%

35.6% 26.7%

♂ 30.9% ♀ 21.8% %

0.0%

9.5% 36.8%

33.3%

T25.7%

Other 11.0% 20.0%

11.9% 11.1%

50.0%

4.8% 7.4%

♂ 10.6% ♀ 8.8% %

9.8%

T9.9%

207

If you had the opportunity to take a month-long all expenses paid trip to any of the world’s continents, which one would you choose to explore?

Africa 12.1%

11.0%

4.4%

13.3%

♂ 8.1% ♀ 13.6%

0.0%

9.5% 10.3%

17.7%

T11.0%

Antarctica 2.2% 2.2%

1.7% 2.2%

♂ 2.4% ♀ 2.0% %

0.0%

3.2% 1.5%

2.0%

T2.2%

Asia 6.6% 6.7%

11.0% 6.7%

♂ 7.3% ♀ 12.2% %

0.0%

12.7% 11.8%

9.8%

T9.9%

Australia 11.0% 15.6%

208

22.0% 8.9%

50.0%

12.7% 25.0%

♂ 16.3% ♀ 15.7% %

15.7%

T16.2%

Europe 56.0%

42.4%

62.2%

50.0%

41.3%

55.6%

39.7%

♂ 53.7% ♀ 40.8%

41.2%

T46.7%

North America 0.0%

1.7%

0.0%

0.0%

4.8% 2.2%

1.5%

♂ 1.6% ♀ 2.0% %

0.0%

T1.8%

South America 11.0%

9.3%

4.4%

0.0%

11.1% 11.1%

10.3%

♂ 8.9% ♀ 11.6% %

13.7%

T10.3%

Don’t see myself as a traveler, actually 1.1% 4.4%

0.9%

0.0%

4.8% 0.0%

0.0%

♂ 1.6% ♀ 2.0% %

0.0%

T1.8%

209

Which are you?

Carnivore 92.3%

87.3%

88.9%

100.0%

93.7%

88.9%

89.7%

♂ 94.3% ♀ 87.1%

90.2%

T90.4%

Vegitarian 5.5%

12.7%

11.1%

0.0%

6.3%

6.7%

10.3%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 11.6% %

9.8%

T8.8%

Vegan?

2.2% 0.0%

210

0.0%

0.0%

0.0% 4.4%

0.0%

♂ 0.0% ♀ 1.4% %

0.0%

T0.7%

Who ya gonna call?

Domino’s 4.4%

5.1%

4.4%

6.7%

♂ 4.1% ♀ 4.8%

0.0%

3.2% 5.9%

2.0%

T4.4%

Donato’s 15.4%

17.8%

4.4%

13.3%

♂ 17.1% ♀ 12.2% %

0.0%

6.4% 22.1%

23.5%

T14.3%

Papa John’s 39.6%

49.2%

48.9%

42.2%

♂ 39.8% ♀ 39.5% %

0.0%

20.6% 45.6%

43.1%

T39.3%

Pizza Hut 12.1%

9.3%

11.1%

100.0%

15.9% 13.6%

5.9%

♂ 7.3% ♀ 14.3% %

11.8%

T11.8%

pizzaBOGO 8.8%

2.5%

8.9%

2.2%

♂ 7.3% ♀ 3.4% %

0.0%

4.8% 5.9%

3.9%

T5.2%

Zeppe’s 7.7% 4.4%

6.8%

8.13%

15.9% 6.7%

7.4%

♂ 8.1% ♀ 10.2% %

9.8%

T9.2%

211

Which form of social media do you use the most?

Facebook 23.1%

36.4%

13.3%

24.4%

♂ 35.0% ♀ 37.4%

0.0%

54.0% 30.9%

51.0%

T36.0%

Twitter 16.5%

20.3%

4.4%

37.8%

♂ 17.9% ♀ 14.3% %

0.0%

6.4% 17.7%

15.7%

T15.8%

Instagram 35.2%

16.1%

35.6%

24.4%

♂ 15.5% ♀ 23.8% %

0.0%

4.8% 29.4%

7.8%

T19.6%

That blogging site that won’t be named 7.7%

10.2%

20.0%

50.0%

1.6%

8.9%

5.9%

♂ 4.9% ♀ 8.8% %

3.9%

T7.6%

Pinterest, Google +, Snapchat, Other 8.8%

7.6%

6.7%

2.2%

♂ 10.6% ♀ 5.4% %

0.0%

6.4% 10.3%

11.8%

T7.7%

I don’t use social media 8.8% 20.0%

212

9.3%

50.0%

27.0% 2.2%

5.9%

♂ 16.3% ♀ 10.2% %

9.80%

T13.2%

Peet’s or Starbucks?

Peet’s 5.5%

8.5%

2.2%

4.4%

♂ 10.6% ♀ 8.8%

0.0%

17.5% 11.8%

7.8%

T9.6%

Starbucks 47.3%

47.5%

40.0%

62.2%

♂ 31.7% ♀ 54.4% %

0.0%

31.8% 44.1%

45.1%

T43.8%

Neither—caffeiene is for the weak 29.7%

17.8%

28.9%

0/0%

4.8%

17.8%

23.5%

♂ 26.8% ♀ 12.2% %

21.6%

T18.8%

Both are equal in my mind 7.7% 11.1%

9.3% 8.9%

♂ 8.1% ♀ 9.5% %

0.0%

9.5% 7.4%

7.8%

T8.8%

No opinion 9.9% 17.8%

16.9% 6.7%

100.0%

36.5% 13.2%

♂ 22.8% ♀ 15.0% %

17.7%

T19.1%

213

Have you ever bought a book at the Learned Owl? Yes 73.6%

33.1%

53.3%

100.0%

82.5%

44.4%

55.9%

♂ 52.9% ♀ 61.9%

47.1%

T58.1%

No 22.0%

56.8%

33.3%

46.7%

♂ 36.6% ♀ 34.7% %

0.0%

14.3% 42.7%

43.1%

T35.3%

What’s the Learned Owl? 4.4%

10.2%

13.3%

8.9%

♂ 10.6% ♀ 3.4% %

0.0%

3.2% 1.5%

9.8%

T6.6%

Have you ever been in love? And if so, do you regret it?

Yes, and I don’t regret it 42.9%

49.2%

31.1%

50.0%

92.1%

46.7%

54.4%

♂ 59.4% ♀ 55.1% %

49.0%

T57.0%

Yes, and I regret it 12.1% 22.2%

15.2% 4.4%

♂ 16.3% ♀ 6.8% %

0.0%

1.6% 10.3%

19.6%

T11.0%

No… and thank you so much for reminding me!

45.0% 46.7%

214

35.6% 48.9%

50.0%

6.3% 35.3%

♂ 24.4% ♀ 38.1% %

31.4%

T32.0%

What is your opinion of celebrities, such as Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus, who often appear to act recklessly and receive attention for doing so?

I think they are a bad influence on younger generations 60.4% 51.1%

39.8%

100.0%

68.3%

60.0%

44.1%

♂ 61.8% ♀ 45.6%

43.1%

T53.3%

I find their behavior entertaining 16.5% 11.1%

21.2%

0.0%

4.8%

15.6%

22.1%

♂ 10.6% ♀ 20.4% %

25.5%

T15.8%

I feel bad for the public ridicule of these celebrities 12.1% 15.6%

13.6%

0.0%

4.8%

8.9%

17.7%

♂ 6.5% ♀ 15.0% %

7.8%

T11.0%

No opinion 11.0% 22.2%

25.4% 15.6%

0.0%

22.2% 16.2%

♂ 21.1% ♀ 19.0% %

23.5%

T19.9%

215

If the decision had been yours to make, to which nominated movie would you have given the “Best Picture” Academy Award for 2013?

American Hustle 8.8%

3.4%

6.7%

0.0%

3.2% 8.9%

4.4%

♂ 4.1% ♀ 6.1% 3.9%

T5.2%

The Wolf of Wall Street 14.3%

22.9%

11.1%

0.0%

3.2%

17.8%

25.0%

♂ 22.0% ♀ 10.2% %

19.6%

T15.4%

Captain Phillips 6.6%

5.9%

6.7%

0.0%

6.4% 11.1%

1.5%

♂ 6.5% ♀ 6.1% %

7.8%

T6.3%

Dallas Buyers Club 5.5%

0.9%

4.4%

0.0%

7.9% 0.0%

4.4%

♂ 4.9% ♀ 3.4% %

2.0%

T4.0%

Philomena 1.1% 0.0%

0.9%

0.0%

3.2% 2.2%

0.0%

♂ 1.6% ♀ 1.4% %

2.0%

T1.5%

12 Years a Slave 11.0% 8.9%

216

13.6% 13.3%

0.0%

12.7% 11.8%

♂ 12.2% ♀ 12.9% %

15.7%

T12.5%

Nebraska 1.1%

0.85%

0.0%

4.4%

♂ 1.6% ♀ 1.4%

0.0%

3.2% 0.0%

0.0%

T1.5%

Her 1.1%

6.8%

2.2%

2.2%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 2.7% %

0.0%

3.2% 4.4%

7.8%

T4.0%

Gravity 3.3% 6.7%

6.8% 2.2%

♂ 5.7% ♀ 3.4% %

0.0%

1.6% 7.4%

3.9%

T4.4%

Other (one that was not nominated) 14.3% 8.9%

13.6%

50.0%

4.8%

15.6%

11.8%

♂ 9.8% ♀ 12.9% %

19.6%

T11.8%

No opinion 33.0% 44.4%

24.6% 22.2%

50.0%

50.8% 29.4%

♂ 26.0% ♀ 39.5% %

17.7%

T33.5%

217

Do you regularly take “selfies”?

Yes, but first…

23.1%

30.5%

15.6%

50.0%

7.9%

31.1%

29.4%

♂ 18.7% ♀ 25.9%

31.4%

T22.8%

No 60.4%

49.2%

57.8%

50.0%

76.2%

60.0%

51.5%

♂ 52.0% ♀ 65.3% %

49.0%

T59.2%

What is a “selfie”?

0.0% 0.0%

0.0%

0.0%

4.8% 0.0%

0.0%

♂ 2.4% ♀ 0.0% %

0.0%

T1.1%

Never, selfies are the worst trend ever.

16.5% 26.7%

218

20.3% 8.9%

0.0%

11.1% 19.1%

♂ 26.8% ♀ 8.8% %

19.6%

T16.9%

What’s your opinion of premarital sex?

I believe in waiting until after marriage, but don’t judge others for not waiting.

28.6%

17.8%

31.1%

24.4%

♂ 19.5% ♀ 23.8%

0.0%

19.1% 17.7%

19.6%

T21.7%

I believe in waiting until after marriage and think others should do the same.

5.5%

3.4%

6.7%

2.2%

♂ 4.9% ♀ 3.4% %

0.0%

3.2% 2.9%

5.9%

T4.0%

I respect those who wait, but believe it is acceptable, especially in the modern world.

51.7%

68.6%

55.6%

100.0%

65.1%

60.0%

66.2%

♂ 59.4% ♀ 64.0% %

60.8%

T62.1%

I believe it is a crucial part of a relationship and have difficulty understanding those who choose to wait.

8.8%

9.3%

2.2%

0.0%

11.1% 11.1%

11.8%

♂ 13.8% ♀ 6.1% %

9.8%

T9.6%

No opinion 5.5% 4.4%

0.9%

0.0%

1.6% 2.2%

1.5%

♂ 2.4% ♀ 2.7% % 3.9%

T2.6%

219

I see myself as being of…

Above average attractiveness 12.1%

11.0%

4.4%

8.9%

♂ 16.3% ♀ 9.5%

0.0%

15.9% 11.8%

19.6%

T12.5%

Average attractiveness 39.6%

46.6%

44.4%

50.0%

41.3%

46.7%

42.7%

♂ 41.5% ♀ 44.2% %

41.2%

T43.0%

Below average attractiveness 16.5%

14.4%

15.6%

11.1%

♂ 11.4% ♀ 15.0% %

0.0%

6.4% 14.7%

19.6%

T13.2%

Who am I to judge?

31.9% 35.6%

220

28.0% 33.3%

50.0%

36.5% 30.9%

♂ 30.9% ♀ 31.3% %

19.6%

T31.3%

Of the following, which draws most of your viewing time?

Network TV (ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox) 39.6%

24.6%

26.7%

0.0%

25.4%

22.2%

33.8%

♂ 18.7% ♀ 39.5% 39.2%

T29.8%

PBS 1.1%

2.5%

0.0%

0.0%

11.1% 0.0%

1.5%

♂ 4.1% ♀ 4.1% %

5.9%

T4.0%

Sports channels (BTN, ESPN, ESPN 2, Fox, Soccer, Golf Channel, etc.)

14.3%

11.0%

15.6%

0.0%

14.3%

13.3%

10.3%

♂ 26.0% ♀ 2.0% %

11.8%

T12.9%

Premium cable movie channels (Cinemax, HBO, Showtime, Starz, etc.)

11.0%

14.4%

8.9%

0.0%

0.0%

11.1%

17.7%

♂ 9.8% ♀ 10.2% %

11.8%

T9.9%

Kids channels (Cartoon Network, Nickalodean, Disney Channel, etc.)

1.1% 2.2%

5.9%

0.0%

0.0% 0.0%

7.3%

♂ 2.4% ♀ 3.4% %

3.9%

T2.9%

221

Documentary Channels (Discovery, History Channel, etc.)

9.9%

12.7%

15.6%

50.0%

11.1%

20.0%

8.8%

♂ 14.6% ♀ 8.2%

3.9%

T11.4%

Music channels (MTV, VH1, etc.)

1.1% 0.0%

5.1% 6.7%

♂ 0.0% ♀ 4.8% %

0.0%

0.0% 4.4%

2.0%

T2.6%

Other 22.0% 31.1%

222

23.7% 26.7%

50.0%

38.1% 16.2%

♂ 24.4% ♀ 27.9% %

21.6%

T26.5%

Which of the following best describes your own views on the effects of various social media (e.g. Facebook, Twitter, texting, etc.) when it comes to our ability to interact with one another?

I believe these technological innovations are proving a healthy, effective, and efficient way to communicate with one another. I don’t believe they significantly hinder our abilityto interact with one another in person.

16.5%

19.5%

20.0%

50.0%

14.3%

15.6%

20.6%

♂ 22.0% ♀ 12.9%

15.7%

T17.3%

These technologies are certainly convenient, and I employ them, but I do worry as to whether or not they are making it harder for us to know how to interact with one another face to face.

60.4%

56.8%

53.3%

66.7%

♂ 49.6% ♀ 60.5% %

0.0%

44.4% 54.4%

60.8%

T55.2%

I believe that these additions to technology are actually hindering our ability to communicate with one another in person. People are losing the skills necessary to speak with one another either on the phone or in person. We are slowly going to become more socially awkward a society.

19.8%

20.3%

20.0%

50.0%

33.3%

17.8%

20.6%

♂ 23.6% ♀ 22.5% %

21.6%

T23.2%

No opinion / Undecided 3.3% 6.7%

3.4%

0.0%

7.9% 0.0%

4.4%

♂ 4.8% ♀ 4.1% %

2.0%

T4.4%

223

Do you own a smartphone?

Yes 89.0% 84.4%

88.1%

100.0%

76.2%

91.1%

92.7%

♂ 84.6% ♀ 86.4%

84.3%

T85.7%

No 11.0% 15.6%

224

11.9% 8.9%

0.0%

23.8% 7.3%

♂ %15.4 ♀ 13.6% %

15.7%

T14.3%

Which do you use more?

Desktop computer 6.6%

5.9%

6.7%

6.7%

♂ 11.4% ♀ 6.8%

0.0%

17.5% 5.9%

5.9%

T8.8%

Laptop computer 44.0%

54.2%

60.0%

50.0%

55.6%

40.0%

47.1%

♂ 53.7% ♀ 49.0% %

52.9%

T51.1%

Tablet 2.2% 4.4%

1.7% 0.0%

♂ 3.3% ♀ 3.4% %

0.0%

7.9% 1.5%

2.0%

T3.3%

Smartphone 47.2% 28.9%

38.1% 53.3%

50.0%

19.0% 45.6%

♂ 31.7% ♀ 40.8% %

39.2%

T36.8%

225

Do you recycle?

Always!

19.8%

15.3%

15.6%

50.0%

42.9%

28.9%

8.8%

♂ 24.4% ♀ 21.8%

19.6%

T23.2%

More often than not 50.6%

53.4%

60.0%

50.0%

36.5%

46.7%

52.9%

♂ 50.4% ♀ 46.9% %

49.0%

T48.5%

Only when it’s convenient 26.4%

25.4%

20.0%

0.0%

17.5%

22.2%

29.4%

♂ 21.1% ♀ 26.5% %

29.4%

T23.9%

Almost never 3.3% 4.4%

226

5.9%

0.0%

3.2% 2.2%

8.8%

♂ 4.1% ♀ 4.8% %

2.0%

T4.4%

Which do you find yourself fantasizing about most? sex 20.9%

22.9%

22.2%

50.0%

9.5%

15.6%

19.1%

♂ 25.2% ♀ 13.6%

31.4%

T19.1%

wealth 5.5%

6.8%

8.9%

2.2%

♂ 11.4% ♀ 4.8% %

0.0%

12.7% 7.4%

5.9%

T7.7%

personal achievment in a particular endeavor / field 40.7%

39.0%

40.0%

40.0%

♂ 37.4% ♀ 36.1% %

0.0%

25.4% 39.7%

39.2%

T36.4%

travel 16.5%

17.8%

8.9%

26.7%

♂ 13.0% ♀ 23.8% %

0.0%

23.8% 17.6%

15.7%

T18.8%

Fame / celebrity 4.4% 2.2%

3.4% 8.9%

♂ 3.3% ♀ 2.7% %

0.0%

0.0% 4.4%

0.0%

T2.9%

other 12.1% 17.8%

10.2% 6.7%

50.0%

28.6% 11.8%

♂ 9.8% ♀ 19.1% %

7.8%

T15.1%

227

The Viewpoints Survey was conducted online via Survey Monkey from Friday, May 9 to Monday, May 12, 2014. The following demographic information is provided to help put the results into some context.

Total number of surveys fully completed: 272 Total respondent breakdown (completed surveys only): Students: 209 (F=110; M97=; Nb=2) Day Students: 91 (F=49; M=42) Boarding Students: 118 (F=61; M=55; Nb=2) Faculty/Staff: 63 (F=37; M=26; Nb=0) Female: 147 Male: 123 Non-binary: 2 Composition of student respondents: Freshmen: 45 (F=21; M=23; Nb=1) Sophomores: 45 (F=24; M=21; Nb=0) Juniors: 68 (F=36; M=32; Nb=0) Seniors: 51 (F=29; M=21 Nb=1) Live in Ohio and are U.S. citizens: 140 Live in Ohio but are not U.S. citizens: 3 Live in the U.S., outside of Ohio, and are U.S. citizens: 36 Live in the U.S., outside of Ohio, but are not U.S. citizens: 0 Live outside of U.S. but are U.S. citizens: 8 Live outside of U.S. as citizens of a foreign country: 22

All questions required an answer in order to move on with the survey.

The forty-four surveys which were started but not completed were not included in the tallying of results. This Viewpoints Survey is not presented as being scientifically accurate to within a specific margin of error. The survey is intended for entertainment purposes only.

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