Saints Rising: Pandemic Reflections by the Class of 2021

SAINTS

RISING PANDEMIC REFLECTIONS BY THE CLASS OF 2021

SAINTS

RISING PANDEMIC REFLECTIONS BY THE CLASS OF 2021

Letter from the Editors Dear St. Andrew’s, This project came out of a time of separation and uncertainty. As our grade suddenly dispersed across the country and world in the spring of 2020, we knew we would have to create new ways to remain connected. Designed as an outlet for artistic expression, the project gave us an opportunity to process the unknowns, reconnect, and record our experiences in a historic moment.

The Class of 2021 created these pieces throughout the virtual spring term, a restricted summer, and then the return to school in unfamiliar circumstances. The wide range of our grade’s experiences during these many stages of the pandemic is reflected in the varied contributions of poetry, photography, paintings, reflections, and other forms of creative expression.

We would like to thank everyone who offered their perspective and the larger St. Andrew’s community for their continued love and support for our grade and our ability to be creative during such a challenging time. For us, engaging with these pieces reminded us of the hope and connection that can be found in any circumstance, and we hope it can do the same for you.

With love,

Ellie Beams ’21

© May 2021

Ashlie Doucette ’21

Table of Contents Nico Hamel HUMANITY—AN ARGUMENT FOR BEING A KID. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Marie Ueda COVID-19 IN NYC. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

Nicholas Lampietti FACETIME WITH GRANDPARENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8

Madeline Birknes WHAT’S KEPT ME SANE (AKA: BOOKS I’VE READ IN QUARANTINE). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

Amrit Chapman TETON RANGE, WYOMING. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Ashlie Doucette THE WINDOW. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 WORKING FROM HOME. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

Kate Butcher EMPTY STREETS OF SINGAPORE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Izzy Nielsen THAT SWELLING FEELING. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

William Zhuang POEMS I WROTE DURING QUARANTINE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

Emily Boyer COVID-19 COLLAGE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Christine Chen WITHIN THESE WALLS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 DEAR MOSS FLOWERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 IN HINDSIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 ANGELS IN AMERICA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 BLACK CAT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 LAST WORDS OF A HORNET. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

Kent Peters PHOTOS IN LANCASTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30

Griffin Pitt A RENEWED SENSE OF ETHOS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32

Cole Kay LIST OF MOVIES TO WATCH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34

Leila Warren CASCADE MOUNTAINS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

Ellie Beams NO MORE STRANGERS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Hans Shen WHERE I AM AND WHERE I WANT TO BE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

Rhett Edens LOLLIE AND BIRDIE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41

Belle Shiffman EXPLORING THE WORLD FROM HOME. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

Arush Puri FACES OF THE PANDEMIC. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Heidi Cobb QUARANTINE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Teddy Pyle FINDING STRUCTURE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Heleah Soulati PAINT BY NUMBER. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50

Luke Barnes 3RDS BASKETBALL MOVIE TRAILER. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

Nick Lilley A HOPE FOR A BETTER FUTURE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52

Duy Anh Nguyen TOUGH HANDLES WORKOUT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

Zach Sheppard PEACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55

Hayden Messina TESTING POSITIVE AT ST. ANDREW’S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56

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NICO HAMEL I am from Hamburg, Germany, and that is also the place where I have been staying during most of the pandemic. In the beginning of the outbreak, I stayed with my host brothers Nick and Matt Lilley in Silver Spring, Maryland, but was sent home by my exchange organization ASSIST once the virus spread all over the globe. My favorite occupation during times of social distancing was getting out into nature, sitting around, reading, writing. One day, when playgrounds were reopened in the city of Hamburg, I observed how joyfully the children reclaimed their territory in their play. I talked for a long time with a couple of parents about their children’s special experience with the pandemic, and so was inspired to write about them and what their intriguing behavior could teach us.

HUMANITY—AN ARGUMENT FOR BEING A KID We strive for humanity. We strive for this beautifully abstract concept that guides us toward ultimate kindness and happiness in life. The concept of humanity, however, implies that humans must be distinguished from any other animal. While animal behavior is guided by instincts of survival and reproduction, we have a unique ability to go deeper than that. Humans have a distinct curiosity about abstract concepts animals are unable to explore.

While animalistic behavior can be mostly broken down into efforts to either end up with food or a mating partner, we can also observe animals moving around seemingly without a purpose, just for the sake of exploring—almost always when the animal is saturated and satisfied.

This scientifically explored behavior of animal curiosity serves the purpose of gathering information in their time off striving for survival and sex. However useless this information may appear in the first place, this seemingly aimless search is designed to make a serendipitous discovery that would aid either survival or reproduction in the long run.

When thinking about the curiosity of humans, one may now jump to the conclusion that every question asked, every problem solved, and every place explored by humans only serves the purpose of hoping for something useful to accidentally emerge out of it—just the way it works for animals.

Since this conclusion is accurate in so many situations, it becomes crucial to differentiate between two different kinds of curiosity.

On one hand, there is physical curiosity—the instinct that drives all animals to move around without an apparent reason in order to possibly end up with a lucky catch. This kind of curiosity includes a non-horny, fed-up cat walking around the neighborhood for hours, as well as a mountain climber who cannot wait to see how the hilltop looks like. These acts of physical curiosity may or may not have an obvious reason to them. The wandering cat perhaps is trying to get to know its habitat better to gain an edge for survival there, but the mountain climber’s excitement for seeing the hilltop results from his established neurological paths that evoke curiosity—he doesn’t need to work for survival or reproduction in that moment, but he may be serendipitously stumbling over a treasure on his way to the top of the hill.

On the other hand, there is a deeper curiosity unique to humans. This form of curiosity expands further than the act of random searching for a fortuitous encounter; it does not ask the questions of what, where, and how—it seeks an

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answer for the why. An orangutan may be found wondering how he can get to the bananas hanging high on a tree and figures out that he can use boxes to build himself stairs. But this monkey will not ever ask himself why there are bananas growing on that tree and try to find out how to use that information. Animals accept the circumstances given and work their way to success from there, but they never question why something happened in the first place. When trying to steal a banana from a fellow ape, they possibly figure out why they should not have done that after being beat up by a stronger monkey, but they would never ask themselves why it could be conceptually wrong for only the strongest to keep his bananas and get everyone else’s.

Humanistic curiosity differs from physical curiosity not only in its scientific aspect, but in its concern about philosophical and ethical issues on a deeply conceptual layer.

When we humans keep asking the question why over and over again until landing at a question that challenges something so abstract that questions like right or wrong are being asked, our humanistic curiosity changes us in a way that makes us different from any other animal—it makes us human.

This distinguishing depth of curiosity, though, did not emerge from nothing and was simply God-given to the human race. This trait developed for ages out of the physical curiosity animals have obtained long before the first human existed.

As stated before, most animals only wander off to their journeys of curiosity when they are not in need of food or a mating partner at the moment. The same thing applies to humans—once people began living in civilized structures where food and sex were consistently available, they evolved to long for going deeper than just satisfying their most primitive needs, and ultimately developed the ability to obtain humanistic curiosity. From then on, people started living in cultures with a strong focus on humanity. Though there were, still are, and always will be dissents to the concept of humanity, we are able to observe people creating a massive surge in humanity once their basic animalistic needs are routinely satisfied, and so, are enabled to develop their humanistic curiosity.

Therefore, when acknowledging that humanistic curiosity is the root for all of humanity—this beautifully abstract concept of ultimate kindness—the conclusion arises that this form of curiosity ought to be cherished and, most importantly, developed, so it can guide our thoughts and actions in life to create a more humane world.

However, it presents itself to be quite hard to stay curious in everyday life while being occupied with so many distractions. People withdraw from the concept of humanity for various reasons. Either their thinking is flawed in a way that their final why creates egoistic ideologies, or they are simply unable to deeply engage in the practice of humanistic curiosity in the first place.

The foundation for both issues lies in the structures of the world that create massive preoccupations in people’s minds and therefore do not allow them to explore their humanistic curiosity.

Recognizing the need for humanity in this world and understanding the requirement of humanistic curiosity in order to create humanity, the question arises how this form of curiosity can be awakened in those human beings that as of now do not actively practice the concept.

It is an established fact that physically working out strengthens the targeted muscles, but it is often overlooked that the same concept of deliberate practice can be applied for the mind. The mind works like a muscle that strengthens the 2

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neurological paths that are used the most. People use this trait of the brain all the time: repeating something over and over again to remember it, working on problems of the same kind to aid conceptual mastery, playing chess a couple times to improve skills in the game. Using this knowledge, combined with the fact that humans are creatures of habit, people can deliberately strengthen their ability to engage in acts of humanistic curiosity.

When thinking about deliberately practicing humanistic curiosity, suggestions of reading “thought-provoking” books, or discussing “deep” topics with other scholars of humanity may come to mind. However, the most important lesson that we can learn to work on our humanistic curiosity, and by extension, our humanity, comes from children.

It is crucial to understand that humanistic curiosity exists in every human in the world, so there is no need to force something new on someone who was not born for it. The reason that so many people are unable to engage deeply with the concept of humanity is that they are massively distracted by the surrounding world, so that their minds are too busy to give in to their curiosity. If we could just take away all these preoccupations of mind, we could observe what kind of magic our curiosity could work when allowed to. Aren’t we lucky to have children in this world?

Children, in contrast to many grown-ups, seem to have this everlasting need for the new. Their never-ending curiosity manifests itself in the number of questions a child asks each day, in their attitude until receiving a satisfactory answer, and in the way they play and explore. When watching children play or explore a new territory, it can be observed that they inherit the incredible ability of forgetting the bigger picture and always seem to take another step in whatever direction—as long as their endless desire for fun and discovery gets satisfied a little more through that step.

For them, it can be hard to overlook a situation extensively enough to even see their surroundings—not to mention that they actively choose to ignore them. They focus most intensely on the moment and ignore any circumstances that would direct their attention elsewhere.

This ability seems to be developed especially powerfully when children play in nature. Once one takes a little child to a new place in the woods, the kid will begin to wander off in various directions, always looking to explore something after being stimulated by an impulse of excitement about something beautiful and new.

When walking in nature, children’s attention flickers rapidly from one subject to the other. While grown-ups commonly are lost in their thoughts, usually related to something that occupies them from their everyday life, and perhaps only stare straight ahead or even down on the path, children’s heads are tirelessly turning back and forth when they are exposed to as many stimulations of their curiosity as they are in nature. Even if a child may be walking down a path for the twentieth time in a month, they can still discover something new each and every time.

The human hunger for the new is nowhere as strongly manifested as in human’s, and especially children’s, longing for the purity of nature. Significant parts of the appeal of pure nature result from the feeling that one may be the first person to explore the place that seems so pure, so untouched, so new. In pure nature, preoccupations can be put aside, and focus can be directed away from everything that normally hinders one to engage in their curiosity. The affirmation that some of our physical curiosity is satisfied by the journey through nature immediately puts a human in a better mood while stimulating the neurological paths responsible for curiosity. As previously established, our humanistic curiosity developed originally out of our physical curiosity, and so the neurological paths for both physical and 3

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humanistic curiosity are intertwined with each other. Relating back to the deliberate practice of the mind and the human as a creature of habit, we can now understand that we can advance the concept of humanistic curiosity by the far easier endeavor of developing our physical curiosity—the way children do.

Even though this venture already sounds far more straightforward than abstractly cultivating humanistic curiosity in a direct matter, it still is easier said than done.

After all, the principle of developing physical curiosity consists not only of spending more time in nature, but rather of creating a mental narrative that directs attention to stimulations of beauty and amazement. Indeed, the opening gesture may very well be the use of nature as a powerful entity to create this form of headspace—as explained before, we have our natural roots of rewarding curiosity there, and it may take less effort there to come to this state of mind.

Though we can see this ability in children extraordinarily strong in nature, they obtain it everywhere in life. To let our humanity flourish, we need to learn from children to cherish the beauty of every small thing we encounter by cutting ourselves off from all distractions as intensely as possible. To rid oneself of that which troubles, and to escape the nowadays constant negativity of multitasking, we must strive to be fully present in the moment.

When people intend to take a break from their preoccupations—be it stress from work, social problems, issues of mental health, or anxiety before an important event—and begin to physically get away from the area of trouble, they often carry with them their burdens and instead of admiring the beauty of the moment, they find themselves staring off into nowhere, thinking in circles about what is on their mind that they wanted to take a break from.

When you work through something—work hard. When you take time for yourself—do not let anything else take over your mind. Be the most present at every instant and do everything you do with the most passion and engagement possible.

Direct your full attention and focus to the matter at hand, no matter what it is, and dedicate your energy to make the most of every moment and situation you encounter.

Every aspect of life is beautiful—you only need to take the energy out of your life to allow your attention to realize and admire it.

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MARIE UEDA I’m from Westchester County, New York about half an hour from New York City. I had this idea to take pictures of what NYC, an epicenter of COVID-19, looked like and felt like. This is a way for me to capture and remember this moment in history as well as how I’ve personally responded.

COVID-19 IN NYC

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NICHOLAS LAMPIETTI I was born and raised in Washington, DC, which is where I spent the early pandemic playing Monopoly, walking my dog, and eating the chocolate chip cookies that my sister bakes. Having not written a poem since middle school, I decided to take advantage of time during quarantine to get creative and stop watching so much Youtube. “Facetime with Grandparents” was inspired by spending summers with my grandparents which, because of COVID-19, I am unable to do for the first time since I can remember. Grandparents and technology are a frustrating combination, but the small moments of connection makes it all worth it.

FACETIME WITH GRANDPARENTS Oh boy, I say, what have we gotten ourselves into You know, my sister replies, I think today might just be a breakthrough Don’t worry, she assures me, they’ll get it this time Wouldn’t that be great, I hope, that would just be sublime.

The phone rings, that annoying chirpy sound Please, please, please, I pray, let the camera not them confound Just like last time, oh the thought of that again 45 minutes of staring at the ceiling: today let it only be 10.

Granddad answers, we can see you. Look!

Oh oh oh, my grandmother responds, it’s Facebook!

No Grandmom, it’s Facetime, my sister reminds her gently Only for the umpteenth time, we use it that frequently But it doesn’t matter Because unfortunately, in the world right now we can’t gather Like we usually would, every single summer that I can remember Where time spent together: moments so tender.

So for now, Facetime will have to suffice It’s not the real thing, a frustrating price But the chance, for a few seconds, to see their smiles How happy they are to see us, makes it all worthwhile.

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MADELINE BIRKNES WHAT’S KEPT ME SANE (AKA: BOOKS I’VE READ IN QUARANTINE) MARCH 1.

The Marriage of Opposites by Alice Hoffman A multigenerational novel about love and friends and race on St. Thomas island. With a beautiful setting, a slower pace, and complex characters, this is a leisurely, fun story.

2.

Faithful by Alice Hoffman I love Alice Hoffman, and this one was even better than The Marriage of Opposites. The main character is grieving a loss, and Hoffman details her heart-wrenching and heart-warming healing process through snarky comments, unlikely friends, and dogs. Lots of dogs.

3.

Maid by Stephanie Land Land’s memoir of her struggle to raise her child while working to clean other people’s houses. She writes compellingly about economic inequality and the drudgery of poverty, but I found that the book was a bit repetitive.

4.

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens Kind of a wild book about an abandoned child who grows up in a shack in the coastal marsh of North Carolina. An intriguing combination of good prose, romance, and murder mystery.

5.

Let the Great World Spin by Column McCann With his signature poetic prose and ambition, McCann weaves his diverse, numerous, seemingly unconnected narrators into a complex and satisfying tapestry. I liked this better than Transatlantic.

6.

Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith by Jon Krakauer In addition to being a detailed history of Mormonism, this is a real-life crime book. Krakauer kept me on the edge of my seat with his insightful prose. Five stars.

7.

Cherry by Mary Karr This is the sequel to Karr’s first memoir about growing up in East Texas, The Liar’s Club. I would recommend the first one.

8.

The Stranger in the Woods by Michael Finkel The real-life protagonist in this book self-quarantined in the woods of central Maine for 27 years. Due to his isolation, he was never sick during that time. This is relatively short, immensely entertaining, and each chapter reads like a short story.

9.

The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingslover This was a fantastic novel about one woman’s journey from small-town Kentucky to Tucson, Arizona. The fiery protagonist read like my spunky best friend and made me laugh out loud. I’m pretty sure I cried, too.

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APRIL 10. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro Creepy, creepy, creepy. I read this non-stop because I needed to understand the source of the creepiness. If you like unsettling books, this is for you.

11. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan A multi-generational novel that explores mother-daughter relationships and the particular challenges of mothering children in a culture that is not my own. The characters are fascinating, and many chapters read like myths.

12. Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang Chang has written not only her memoir, but her mother’s and grandmother’s. Their story spans a century of China’s history from her grandmother’s bound feet to her mother’s involvement in the Communist Party to Chang’s university studies and move to England. This book is gripping, moving, and terrifying.

13. The Valley of Amazement by Amy Tan With stubborn and confident characters, a multi-racial protagonist, and an intriguing setting, this novel drew me in and led me on an epic journey.

MAY 14. The Heroes of Olympus Series by Rick Riordan This series was my childhood. The premise is that the Greek gods and goddesses have children with mortals, and those children are “demi-gods” who have to fight monsters and go on quests. Reading these books was like sliding back into a middle school friendship and picking up where I had left off.

15. The Magnus Chase Series by Rick Riordan Rick Riodan is hilarious. If you have middle schoolers in your family, they’ll probably love him. Who knows? If you’re a fantasy fan, you might like him, too.

16. Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari This book was an undertaking, but one that was completely worth it. It was thoroughly researched, written clearly, and made me question everything I thought I knew. Harari takes on impossibly big questions with a systematic, neutral lens and comes to fascinating conclusions about how and why we are where we are. This is the most informative book I have ever read.

JUNE 17. The Dutch House by Anne Patchett It took me a couple chapters to get into this one, but once I did I was enthralled by the little details that kept resurfacing throughout. Time in this novel is not linear, but flows forward and backward in an intriguing way. The main character is at turns frustrating and sweet, ignorant and perceptive.

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18. Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson Robinson crafts beautiful sentences. Much like Column McCann and Jesmyn Ward, she turns prose into poetry. It was a beautiful read, but I would have loved to discuss it in class because there were definitely parts I didn’t understand.

JULY 19. The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo I was so happy to have this as an all-school read! I love novels written in verse, and this is a fantastic one. The protagonist was eloquent, relatable, and honest; the plot was captivating; and the poetry had rhythm. 11/10.

20. What the Living Do by Marie Howe I bought this collection of poems after reading the title poem in class and falling in love. Marie Howe cut straight to my heart and was wringing it out by the end. Her range of emotion—joy, grief, confusion, anger, love—was spectacular.

21. How to Love a Country by Richard Blanco If you liked his talk, read this book! Blanco writes such beautiful poems that I can only read one at a time. As a result, while this book is half-an-inch thick, I’ve been reading it since before the pandemic.

22. Assorted Cheesy Romance Books by Various Authors I’ll be honest: this could be its own list.

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AMRIT CHAPMAN I live in Charlottesville, Virginia and am staying here during quarantine. However, I had a home in Jackson Hole, Wyoming before I moved to Virginia. Wyoming is a sacred, special place to me. It signifies peace, serenity, and relaxation. This is a painting of the Teton Range, a mountain range in Wyoming. Painting this painting during this time gave me a sense of peace. It helped ease my built-up anxiety in this confusing time.

TETON RANGE, WYOMING

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ASHLIE DOUCETTE Over quarantine, I was at home in Northern New Jersey with my grandmother, parents, brothers, and dogs. It was the first time in six years that my entire family was living together, and while it functionally and mentally presented some challenges, it also revealed moments and experiences I hadn’t realized I had been actively missing throughout that time apart.

THE WINDOW I became a point in reference to the windowWhen I heard something, saw something, felt something, I concentrated so intently on it I forgot to uncover what I feared.

The window. An escape?

I don’t believe I would get there in time, That I could slow my breath or still my hands enough.

But I do believe agency is worth holding onto, Especially when the closest you’ve come to the thing itself Is though your own illusive imagination.

WORKING FROM HOME Before, work was a brief topic of conversation over FaceTime. A question about work or school was usually followed by a vague “Good, but busy,” or something like, “I just have to get through these next few weeks, then everything will be pretty calm.” No elaboration. Very few follow up questions. I knew the formal titles of my parents’ jobs, what my brothers were majoring in, and the organizations that my grandmother believed in. But, if asked what this work looked like or how they felt doing it, I wouldn’t know where to begin.

Now, these details are hard to miss. Lying on the living room carpet between classes, I hear their voices all together, as if in conversation. Some combination of strong willed, stressed, passionate, upset, confused, alive. Throughout a given day, I see how their voices change from person to person or class to class, I see who works best at what hours, and I see what it looks like when their minds are deeply engaged. At the dinner table, with little else to catch up on, we each share something we learned that day. On walks, we vent about what has been most stressful or hard to adjust to, and discuss the topics and projects we feel most committed to. Through each moment that I’ve witnessed them in action, or heard them speak to some aspect of their work, I think I’ve finally begun to see the purpose each of them seek through what they do.

My mom has been working out of the attic/guest room turned office.

Surrounded by piles of furniture, luggage, clothing, books, papers, and boxes, she works from the same place where she first began writing articles and making phone calls. In this multipurpose room, the sound of her late night typing is matched by her mother watching The Crown as she falls asleep in the neat, little bed tucked away in the corner. My mom works best between the hours of 6 AM to 8 AM, which I know because I never see her during this time. Since the first cases of coronavirus in New Jersey, a big part of her job has been listening to others’ stories, even when she can’t help them. These phone calls involve few words on her end, but lots of

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nodding and the occasional tearing up. After hearing from someone whose family business has been shut down, or someone who lost a loved one and couldn’t say goodbye, she sits still at her desk for a few moments, mumbling to herself. On days of a big town hall or conference call, she comes downstairs frequently, looking for distractions. Then, at whatever time, she begrudgingly retreats back to the office, closing the doors, and hanging signs which read “Nobody come upstairs” and “Seriously, no one!” On days where she has lots of writing to do, or has been a part of some productive, smaller-scale phone calls, she can work nine hours straight and still appear awake and motivated at dinner. “I love facilitating conversations that accomplish something when nobody expected them to,” she responded on a walk one day, when I asked about her favorite part of her work.

My dad has taken over the kitchen table, which puts him in the center of all chaos. Several times a day, he is interrupted by the blender, the dogs barking at the UPS truck or another groundhog sighting, and at least one of my brothers playing the electric guitar. At these times, he emerges from the table and reminds whoever or whatever is interrupting him that he is in the middle of an important conversation. Then, he laughs about it as he apologizes and exchanges stories about unconventional work setups with the people on the phone. Maybe that’s what has surprised me the most about observing him at work: that at one of the most serious, busy times for the company, they still time to relate with each other and laugh together. Throughout the day, he also finds time to meet with an array of “techstartups”, as he calls them. Some of them are closely connected to the insurance world which he is a part of, and some are completely unrelated- about medicine or some new technological creation. “It’s so thrilling because these people are starting with a vague vision and their own ambition, and that’s it. I want to guide them and even just watch them go through it,” he answered when I asked about why he felt so committed to it.

My brothers have been working all over, from the basement, to their rooms, to somewhere outside. They also work the most unconventional hours, waking up at noon and going to bed around 4 AM (but maybe that’s just the college schedule?). As they write that final sentence or add the final line of code two minutes before the assignment is due, each of them squint intensely at the computer, as if trying to see beyond the screen. They go into their own world, unresponsive to me calling their names or any other external distractions. I’ve always admired their work ethic, but what I’ve been able to observe over quarantine is how this ethic is rooted in their curiosity and excitement about what they’re studying. Late at night, after they’ve just submitted that final project of the week, one of them goes into the other’s room to discuss all the great challenges it presented to them. When I pass by one of these conversations, they try to bring me into it, asking something like, “Did you know that if you divide a sphere into five pieces you could rearrange it into two equal spheres?” No, I didn’t. On walks, I see an eagerness to apply the logic they’ve been practicing to any situation, whether about the domestication of squirrels, or the role of dueling in a modern culture. They seem to see math as something deeply philosophical, as they’ve explained to me over and over that, “It is the only study which has always been true and will always continue to be true, even as everything else shifts.”

As I am in a time in life where I must consider what kind of work I want to dedicate my life to, it has been incredibly powerful to closely observe people in the midst of this pursuit. I have been reminded that all work comes with favorite parts and least favorite parts, that it is never too late to change paths, that all work 14

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involves connection and love on some level, and that passion and curiosity feed motivation and a willingness to work hard. Above all, I have been reminded that any work can be made deeply personal if the individual uses it as a tool to envision a more meaningful, generous, creative, and empathetic world.

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KATE BUTCHER I’m from Wellesley, Massachusetts, but my family and I moved to Singapore during the pandemic. Singapore is usually a bustling city, but the streets were empty last spring. These photos are a peek at what the city looked like at the beginning of this strange time.

EMPTY STREETS OF SINGAPORE

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IZZY NIELSEN I’m from Chicago but I was staying in Hilton Head, South Carolina that whole time to stay out of the city. This poem is just about the surrealness of this whole thing.

THAT SWELLING FEELING For those few seconds when the last song ends and the new one starts, when life is suddenly loud but quiet, or when I brush my teeth and pause to spit, the water spilling into the sink to wash it away, or when I’m on a walk and look up— teeth of green and sun above, then, I remember.

It is a sudden swelling of a feeling, like the tide, or the foam rising in a glass when you pour a coke too fast, or a word caught in your throat that you can’t seem to say, This can’t be real but It is.

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WILLIAM ZHUANG Instead of returning to my home in China, I decided to spend the first two months of quarantine with the Pyles, who generously offered to take me in when I needed a place to stay. These poems represent my personal reflection during this time period.

POEMS I WROTE DURING QUARANTINE 1 I went outside today, Only to help carry some boxes From the car into the basement.

The leaves are there now, Their reflection on the windows, On the moss growing out of stones.

It smelled sweet and watery, The shades of the color green, Like life growing out of life, Like freedom’s never ending on us.

It was only when we were going back in, That we realized there were no keys on us.

There I was, Waiting in the middle of it all, To head back into the still air, The queen sized bed with a broken spring.

Waiting for the grass and wood and flowers and birds To intoxicate me again, To slow all things back down after all.

2 A familiar wall, A messy bedroom.

Comfort overflowing, A picture inevitably stagnant.

Eyes capture images, Colors and shapes, A refreshment of memories.

How the dirty laundry paints the floor, A process I’ve soon mastered to imagine.

Or the green of the yard, That never ceases to appear in the window.

Or how the sunlight pierces through the curtain, Late mornings when I struggle to escape Into another dream.

I wait for days to add up, Months to stack up,

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Till I eventually feel a different way.

But I’m now convinced The same blanket will always feel the same.

I miss the times, When we jump from scene to scene, Ending conversations upon conversations.

Confusion and anger replaced by laughter, Like we are immortal beings afterall.

3 Once this is over, I often say to myself, I wonder how I’ll be breathing In a new way.

How when the gust blows over, My first instinct would be to take in Every granule of dust, Every flavorful pollin, Until my face reddens and puffs.

Or we can finally sit ourselves in a large room, Arms touching arms, Without feeling scared About germs and virus Entering our pipes.

That smell of interaction When his laundry detergent and her perfume Crash and mingle in the open space.

Or anything, Maybe even the steaming sewage in NYC, Other than the repeating movement Of my chest raising and falling Under the weight of the same blanket, I haven’t washed for weeks.

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EMILY BOYER What we realize when we are away from something that we hold dear to our hearts—St. Andrew’s, and the people within it—is that it means more to us than we initially thought. I personally missed all of the small, special things about being at school. Over the course of this quarantine I have felt a whole range of emotions.

Each day brought about a new motivation for something new, or I found myself lacking motivation for something else. Some days I could see the positives of this quarantine and the new hobbies or family memories that could arise from it, but I also had plenty of days where my head was stuck in the negatives. I made a collage of things I found that represented the good and bad days in this quarantine, and all the other days in between that just felt like a lot of meh.

COVID-19 COLLAGE

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CHRISTINE CHEN I’m from Shanghai, China, but early in the pandemic lived with my godparents in Texas. Before then, I was staying over at my friend Piper’s house for about a month.

I wrote these poems during the quarantine. The first two are from when I was in Pittsburgh and the others are from after I moved to Texas. I hope these can serve as an insight into my experience during this unprecedented time and help spread awareness and compassion instead of blame or hate.

WITHIN THESE WALLS Within these walls I have everything I need— Food, water, Clothes, Netflix.

Within these walls, I am safe From the dangers Of the world outside, From the cold But not the snickers And insults of those Who refuse to See past my skin.

These walls are thick But they fall At the attack of those Linking me to A pandemic that Has no nationality; These walls cannot Fight back when they Assume the worst About my identity.

Within these walls Is a girl longing To be a warrior Against the tyranny Of ignorance and Bigotry.

She wants to fight With her words, Her voice, and her kindness That cannot be Walled in by any virus.

Within these walls, She will sing For the masses A song of compassion 22

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And lament For those that Passed away In their good fight For humanity.

Within these walls, A young woman Hopes to be free From the nightmare Far deadlier than Any virus By the name of Racism.

So from within These walls Of brick and stone, She will take down The walls of Division Because we humans Are meant to Love each other.

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DEAR MOSS FLOWERS I never thought you would be So beautiful In the damp corners Of an urban backyard Peeking your head out Between patches of Wet winter grass Reminding me of spring When the rest of the world Have forgotten I know you’re No regular flower You don’t flaunt petals Or flirt with pollen But you sit there Down on the ground Gazing into the sky Singing spring Even when no one Roams the parks You are there Blooming For no one But yourself In the corner Of a backyard In the city of steel Swaying Because you could

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IN HINDSIGHT I saved all my scratch paper Because I’m a hoarder and Didn’t want to walk Those extra steps To the big green box In the damp garage Not because I was saving Pieces of history as I Sat from 8 to 10 In the same black office chair That hurt my back But never in the same position For long I couldn’t sit still for long Not in the same room I’ve been staying in For two weeks I didn’t stay in that room Because I was studying I wanted to stay away From my bed Pretending to be working Pretending to be worth Something Even in the midst of this Catastrophe When I was as helpless And useless as I could Ever be But I saved the scratch paper Almost every piece of them Scrawled over with Long division and equations In small handwriting Lines of poems and lyrics in fast cursive Ideas and titles In a list of bullet points “Six Feet Apart Love in the Time of Corona Walls Connectedness…”

But not one I used No prayers I made up No mention of house guests Like me Stuck in another country Feeling like a ghost In the same room where They ate and read and Slept and wept Until they’d forgotten 25

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Fourteen days had passed I kept a pile of scratch paper (forgotten) Torn from (forgotten) Half-used notepads And old (forgotten) notebooks Tucked between Dog-eared (forgotten) textbooks On a stuffed (forgotten) shelf Thinking I was saving For history The (forgotten) stories Only I would know

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ANGELS IN AMERICA Why don’t we recognize angels when they’re in disguise when they’re not in their uniforms of white when they’ve traded wings and halos for a double-digit hourly wage Why don’t we realize that their penlight is still divine stolen when they took the fall quite willingly giving up their glory in Silver City for a lifetime of devotion to healing the same lives that stole the affection of the Lord from them but they still fight not against them but for them and with them with everything they know burning every drop of angelic blood in them to stay awake and to hold them through the thin layer of a suit and the near-translucent fabric of a mask trying to stop shivering and swallow the tears, scared too praying for strength for healing for mercy hoping they could save just another innocent soul So why do we reject angels Just because they’re wearing blue Just because they’re breathing the same air as we do Just because we can’t seem to remember these same hands that brought us into this beautiful world when we first saw the light from their halos How dare we reject the angels shielding us with their bodies covered in sweat and scars all hidden by the blue They are not roadblocks we can degrade with mortal words just because we’re scared They are angels in America even if they’re no longer glowing white

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BLACK CAT This poem was written during quarantine; while it is initially about the pandemic, the poem can be read as symbolic of the experience of BIPOC.

You must be so confused Wandering in an empty neighborhood Rolling over in front of closed doors Wondering where everyone’s been Waiting for someone to rub your belly Under the warm April sun You must be so lonely Shaking tails with your shadow Stalking the phantom of birds Or is this what you’re used to Expecting people to cross the road When they see you lurking By the bushes scavenging for food And the warmth they have but never gave You for you are a black cat A bad omen a curse a spawn of The devil When you just want to lay down At their feet by a fire Your claws tucked in your soft paws So you roll over and expose your soft belly Hoping they would hold you like your sheltered white cousins fed and groomed and loved Like a proper gentleman But remember that I want To pick you up and call you kitty But I am caged Taking photos of your adventures Through closed screened windows Envying your freedom I wish I had

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LAST WORDS OF A HORNET This poem was inspired by the giant murder hornets that emerged out of nowhere (and also the hornet nest on our front porch). This is written from the perspective of a dying hornet, which can be read as an allegory of police brutality.

I know I don’t have the best personality But I don’t think I deserve certain death?

I mean come on Most of the time I’m just minding my own business Building my home Feeding my family What’s wrong with that?

I know I may not have the best temper But to have some juvenile biped Poke and prod at everything you’ve built Only to destroy it in minutes?

I don’t think that anger is unwarranted Since when did we decide there’s something wrong With self-defense?

Is it because I look menacing?

Threatening?

Provoking?

Armed?

I was coming home to rest when they came for us Lured my children into the sugary water And drowned them Forced my Queen into a corner and “removed” her Sprayed fumes till I was choking They haven’t stopped What did I do to them?

Not pay rent this month?

Sing too loudly? Stare at them for too long?

The small ones are watching Their Queen said we’d go to heaven I thought our lives mattered But now I can’t breathe.

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KENT PETERS I had been spending time in Lancaster, Pennsylvania with my family. In my free time I had been cooking food for myself and my family. In addition to cooking, I had been going for walks with my dog and working out. These are some photos I took during my time at home.

PHOTOS IN LANCASTER

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GRIFFIN PITT Ahoy there! (This is a common salutation from my summer camp, which has since been cancelled this year, but I’m hoping to continue this special greeting nonetheless!) I am born and raised in North Cackalacky. Throughout quarantine I had been spending my time between Charlotte and Tarboro (pop: 10,844), where I helped out at my grandparent’s hardware store that’s been around since 1913. I tried to enjoy my time at home, but was itching to get back to St. Andrew’s in the fall!

A RENEWED SENSE OF ETHOS Dear Underformers, Everything has changed. Nothing will ever be the same again. We were at St. Andrew’s living our lives. We left for Spring Break for two weeks. And we haven’t returned since. When you turn on the news, we are met with pictures of healthcare workers with bruised faces and angry people with guns raised shouting for freedom.

It’s normal in this climate to feel so completely and utterly hopeless. Springtime was coming: prom, Spring Fling, sports seasons, graduation. But now we’re home, and our friends are across the country and world, and the faculty are in their houses, and nothing is the way it’s supposed to be.

This state of despair quickly leads the way to reflection. “If only…” plagues each day. If only I had cherished my days more. If only I had spent more time outside. Of course, there are things we all wish we’d done: laughed more with our classmates, talked past midnight with our roommates. It’s easy to remember all of the “whatifs,” now that it’s gone. That time we chose the library over our friends. The time we didn’t sled in the snow. Bake cookies. Swim. Play Spikeball.

I’ve realized, during this time of separation, throughout my time at St. Andrew’s, I’ve valued my academics and clubs over the relationships I built with other people.

Instead of spending time laughing with people in the Dining Hall, I would head to the library to work on assignments days before they were due.

In a paradoxical way, coronavirus has added something to my life. I’ve realized that at any school you can play a sport, you can take a class, or you can make a club.

What makes St. Andrew’s so incredibly important, what makes SAS home, is the people.

This is my “if only”: if only I had realized earlier what matters most isn’t my achievements but the relationships I form with other people.

We all have these moments: times when we look back and think “why did I do that?” Yet I remind myself how fortunate I am. I am only a junior, and my heart goes out to all of the seniors during this time. In so many ways, the juniors, sophomores, and freshmen must take this time to remember how incredibly fortunate we are to still have the opportunity to go to St. Andrew’s next year. Whether we return on September 1st or later, we still have time to apply our coronavirus epiphanies to our lives at St. Andrew’s.

I am so fortunate that I realized during my junior year instead of my senior one how essential it is to connect with my classmates, faculty, and staff before my time here is up. Instead of constantly working, I want to take more Starbucks runs with teachers. I want to eat shawarma from Marlena’s in random classrooms off of the history corridor. I want to go on camping trips and run around Noxontown Pond. I want to bike to Acme and get frozen yogurt. I want to sing, dance, and laugh more 32

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often on dorm. I want to go, do, see, and feel something every day because, if there’s something else I’ve learned, it’s that we don’t know which day could be our last together on campus.

Everything has changed. Nothing will ever be the same again, and that’s ok.

It’s normal to get wrapped up in clichéd “should have…,” “if I’d…,” “wish I’d…,” but there’s no going back. While the world seems to burn around us, we must hold fast to the hope that we will return to St. Andrew’s. I plan on asking faculty members for rides to Chick-Fil-A. I plan on night walks in the woods. I plan on swimming in Noxontown Pond for the first time before I graduate, snakes be damned. We are so young, and we still have time to dive head-first into St. Andrew’s ethos. When I graduate, in less than a year from now, I will judge my high school experience not on my GPA, how many clubs I was a part of, or even what college I got into, because St. Andrew’s is not like other schools. I am certain if I work hard and do what I’m passionate about, all of those things will fall into place. But when I leave campus for the last time as a student, I want to remember the impact this community has on my life: the teachers that instilled a love of learning in me and the classmates that brought joy into my life. I do not know when COVID-19 will end, but our time is not up. Remember that one day we will physically see our friends again, we will run towards them, embrace each other in a giant bear hug, and cry our eyes out. We must remember that there is still time, because without hope we have nothing.

See you soon.

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COLE KAY I’m from Manhattan, New York. My submission is a list of great films that you may or may not have seen. I tried to categorize them into specific types of films you might want to watch depending on your different interests. I’m an avid moviegoer and I think that film is a great way to bring your whole family together for an hour or two to forget about a lot of the issues we’re facing right now, and just relax.

LIST OF MOVIES TO WATCH In my opinion, movies are the greatest form of art. The way that they connect with the viewer, and can combine music, cinematography, and dialogue into about two hours of entertainment, with such a diversity of topics and styles, amazes me. Now that we all have some extra time on our hands, I think that it’s a perfect opportunity to experience some really cool films with our friends and family. In case you don’t have any ideas on where to start, here’s a list I’ve made of some films you can most likely find on Netflix—or other popular streaming services—that I would highly recommend.

FAMILY 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

The Little Prince, 2015 The Adventures of TinTin, 2011 The Princess Bride, 1987 Surf’s Up, 2007 Spirited Away, 2001

COMEDY 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail, 1975 The Other Guys, 2010 Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, 1986 Scott Pilgrim vs The World, 2010 Dr Strangelove: Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb, 1964

ACTION 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

No Country for Old Men, 2007 Point Break, 1991 (definitely don’t confuse this for the remake) Gladiator, 2000 The Bourne Identity, 2002 1917, 2019

HORROR 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

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The Invitation, 2015 Cabin in the Woods, 2011 The Shining, 1980 It Follows, 2014 The Sixth Sense, 1999

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FEEL GOOD 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Jojo Rabbit, 2019 LaLa Land, 2016 Pursuit of Happyness, 2006 Chef, 2014 Forrest Gump, 1994

DRAMA 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Moonlight, 2016 Roma, 2018 Whiplash, 2014 One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, 1975 Shawshank Redemption, 1994

MY FAVORITE 1.

2.

3.

4.

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, 2013 The Dark Knight, 2008 American Beauty, 2008 The Usual Suspects, 1995

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LEILA WARREN For the first few months of quarantine, I was in Washington with my family. My classes started pretty early because I’m on the West Coast, but being up that early meant I got to catch the sunrise every day! They’re so colorful, and some mornings it’s clear enough to see the Cascade Mountains in the background—one of my favorite parts of Washington. I’m new to watercolors, but with all that time on my hands I figured I’d give it a shot!

CASCADE MOUNTAINS

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ELLIE BEAMS During the quarantine, I was home in Massachusetts with my family. Writing has always been an outlet for me and, despite the virtual classes and the time with my whole family together again, I had a lot of extra time to practice. This piece is about my experience with the mental shift into quarantine and one of the small things I missed about our former daily lives.

NO MORE STRANGERS When I was little, but feeling so big In the front seat of my mom’s car, I would watch other people in theirs.

In phases I would obsessively watch for specific Actions and qualities. Sometimes I’d count the drivers wearing sunglasses.

Other times, I would count which passengers.

I tallied little children, laughed At the quick glimpses of screaming bodies Straining against their car seats Or passed out with a stuffed animal in the back.

I’d wonder at the teenagers with their phones and hunched shoulders, And feel a confusing moment of guilt when I watched a driver Using their phone, unaware that they had a witness.

I have one pressing memory of driving along Route 6, Almost to the light in the center of town (It was red, we’d have to stop soon) And we passed the little Dunkin Donuts on our right.

And at the entrance, a small blue car patiently sat, Waiting, A single woman alone at the driver’s seat.

Her blinker going on my left, her right.

As we drove past, I expected her to be watching us Maybe we’d even make eye-contact.

We got closer, We were right in front of her, We were perfectly perpendicular, And her head was turned way down the street, Arms bent, leaning over the wheel, choppy Dark ponytail falling over one shoulder.

Before that moment I never imagined that drivers Don’t watch the cars passing them as they wait To take their turn.

For a long time, I was uncomfortable With the thought that they didn’t see each other As a part of the current moment 37

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But were instead only looking forward.

Always watching for the next car— The next car that could interfere with our next step.

But now, right now, Right in the middle of this pandemic, I’m trying to imagine that woman with dark choppy hair— Trying to imagine what her next step will be In a time when we’re not allowed to step forward.

I try to imagine passing her again With the red light ahead And the right turn signal on And I think I would be happy to be a glancing inconvenience To a woman that I don’t know As she moved obliviously forward again With her life, not even thinking to wonder If the next step forward is an option Or another stranger down the road an inevitability.

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HANS SHEN While writing this piece, I was staying with my cousin’s family in Atlanta, Georgia.

Life there was quiet and peaceful. Maybe too quiet. As a kid fascinated by science, I am currently seeking to gain more insights about what many researchers are hoping to accomplish to tackle this coronavirus. Of course I am lost, but hopefully my self-reflection can point me in a direction.

WHERE I AM AND WHERE I WANT TO BE No one could have anticipated the gravity and seriousness of the outbreak in the United States, and with the number surging every moment, the situation is becoming more and more staggering, yet paralyzing. When the number of cases raised from hundreds to a thousand, everyone felt the loss of individual lives and the weeping of each family; when the number rushed from 1 million to 1.5 million, however, the number numbed our senses and deprived us of our empathy because we are simply not used to working with those drastic numbers. Too much sadness.

I, fortunately, can spend this time during this global crisis with my cousin in Atlanta, Georgia. I am really grateful for them to accept me even though they are from Wuhan, the city of the outbreak, and have lost many of their most loved ones.

I enjoy being with my family members, but I miss my parents even more during this time of uncertainty, as all of my cousins who study at colleges are now back with my uncles and aunts. Unfortunately, I am almost certain that I wouldn’t be able to go back to visit them this summer because of my occupied schedule. 2020 would mark the first year ever in my entire life to spend an entire year away from home, and hopefully I will bring them good news about my future the next time we see each other. I was told yesterday that people have estimated, fairly accurately I think, that we have less than an entire year to spend with our parents once we step into college away from home. Yes, I only spent five weeks last year with them, and I know that that number will only diminish once I go to college and eventually get employed.

Maybe it’s too pessimistic, but I just really want to remind myself of this cruelty, and to tell myself to appreciate every moment that I can spend with them.

I can’t help myself but to think back to my middle school years when my rebellious nature drove me to embark upon this adventure of boarding school as an international student. I can vividly recall my confident assertion of how happy, accomplished, and independent I would be. I told them my crazy idea when we walked by the huge shopping plaza right next to my house, hungrily looking for a restaurant that was not fully occupied, on a chilly Saturday night. They just nodded, but little did I realize what that nod entailed, and how much they must have sacrificed to support my most ridiculous idea. I was so stupid. But, would I ever stop being so stupid if I never chose to go to a boarding school? Probably not. Sometimes we as human beings keep falling under the same repetitive cycle of not appreciating something until we’ve lost them.

To be more cynical, a memory comes into mind. I was interning at a medical research lab in New York during Spring Break, right before the outbreak. One day I overheard that the hospital right next to us, where I usually get my lunches, received a patient positive for coronavirus. I was scared. I grabbed my phone and immediately texted everyone, literally everyone. When the distant news on the television manifested itself so clearly and so proximately, I felt a mixture of feelings—uncertainty, struggle, and real empathy for those affected by this virus— 39

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feelings that people probably would never imagine when sitting on a couch staring at images on their laptop. That same night I travelled back to my mom’s friend’s friend’s house (yeah, I’ve been living with a lot of people that I don’t really know for a lot of different reasons, mostly sacrifices for my ambition), and we decided to go out for dinner. I couldn’t believe my eyes when we stepped in the bustling restaurant— waiters racing between tables with their quiet agility, customers laughing at each other’s funny jokes and enjoying each other’s accompany, and cashiers skillfully navigating through the different buttons so as not to frustrate the people waiting in line. I looked at them, thinking that it must have been what my friends were experiencing right before they were forcefully placed into quarantine.

Clearly this situation has brought so many difficulties from not being able to meet up with my friends to not being allowed to walk on streets, literally. Honestly, it has been especially challenging to keep a positive attitude during this global pandemic, and even though I’ve attempted so many things such as an appreciation journal, a workout routine, and a lot of playing time with my little nephew, sometimes I still feel the loss of a purpose. I am the type of person who is really ambitious and willing to make a lot of sacrifices for my ambition, and I’ve enforced a lot of things upon myself. I’ve endeavored to be the best version of myself during every class and produce the best work I can possibly make. I’ve studied for the biology Olympiad until late night. I’ve dived into a lot of elusive research papers tackling different aspects of coronavirus. I have a detailed list of things that I want to accomplish every day, but one day I could wake up feeling energetic and prepared to embrace all the new challenges while the next morning I would become defeated by my lethargy. I began questioning my motivation, and with a lot of opportunities for reflection, I believe that I have reached a conclusion. In retrospect, the biggest lesson that I’ve learned is to enjoy what I do—if you don’t like it, don’t do it. If you are doing it, know why you are doing it. Finally, here’s a quote that I discovered online, “Those who have a ‘why’ to live can bear almost any ‘how’.”

I am not alone. You are not alone. We are not alone.

只有不忘初心，才能方得始终

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RHETT EDENS I purchased a disposable camera to use on my trip to Croatia with the Andrean Ensemble. When the trip was cancelled, I took photos of my dogs.

LOLLIE AND BIRDIE

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BELLE SHIFFMAN I live in Arlington, Virginia and I am very interested in international development so here is a little piece on my journey in discovering this interest and how I have pursued it so far.

EXPLORING THE WORLD FROM HOME A moment that changed my life forever was in Mr. Duffy’s Spanish 3 class, that small classroom on the corner of the language hallway. He had made us go around the room and he asked us, if we could do anything with our lives, what would we do?

“What do you want to be when you grow up” is a question that is so plagued by financial thoughts and influenced by those around us, but he asked us personally, with no outside factors, what would fulfill us in our own lives. I had never come to reflect on my own life before this point in such a manner. I only knew what my parents wanted me to do, but that was it.

Alongside this question that I could not get out of my head, I was deeply struggling with the idea of happiness. Why was it that all happiness seemed so materially based, and how did we get to a point in our society where our whole lives revolved around these material ideas? I went through stages of guilt for all that I had materialistically, when I knew so many others had nothing, and I was frustrated over what seemed to be important in today’s societies.

I was just a confused 16-year-old trying to make sense of the world. In the year since then I believe I have come a long way and those questions came to define my new goals and what I have been doing during this quarantine time. Last summer, I came to realize I would gain perspective on my questions if I got to experience a new culture. I had the incredible opportunity to go live with a host family in the Dominican Republic for four weeks in a small town filled with happiness and life.

There, with one other 16-year-old girl from the US, we attempted to advocate for gender equality and put on a summer camp for the local kids. It was there I found the answers to my questions—and I learned that sometimes it takes a lack of constant electricity to truly appreciate one another’s company. Ever since then all I have wanted to do was go back and feel the undertone of joy that I felt there.

This upcoming summer I had hoped to return to the Dominincan Republic, to a small clinic on the border on Haiti run by the Foundation of International Medical Relief of Children, helping out in any way I could. When this plan got cancelled due to the virus, I reached out immediately on how I could help from a distance. I am currently enrolled in a new virtual program they offer, meeting five days a week with extra work outside, learning all about the complexities of global health. In this program I get to participate in case studies and talk directly to the CEO and staff of Foundation of International Medical Relief of Children, hearing specifically about their jobs. As much as I would have loved to go there myself, I believe this experience is incredibly rewarding in all that I have learned from it.

Additionally, I am currently working on a project with the field operations manager from the Foundation’s health clinics in the Dominican Republic to help design new health education courses for local middle school students there. Also, to help fundraise for this Foundation, I applied for a partnership with the jewelry company Go Rings to raise money for the month of May. So far I have raised about $250 but I really want to raise more. I am so thankful for all these opportunities I

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have had to pursue my interest in international development and public health. I am also thankful for the relationships I have made with those working at Foundation of International Medical Relief of Children, and the knowledge I have gained. I can not wait to surprise them with the fundraising I have done and to hopefully be able to go to one of their clinics one day.

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ARUSH PURI My family is based in India and that is where I spend most of my holidays. I was in India since the pandemic broke out and had been a witness to its impact on people from various backgrounds. These photographs showcase the patience with which some of the most vulnerable people in a small Himalayan town are coping with the stress from this event. Roads that were once bustling and noisy are now empty and all one can see are closed shutters.

FACES OF THE PANDEMIC

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HEIDI COBB I was staying at home with my entire family in Maryland. I wrote my poem to show the newfound time I have to view nature and also to sympathize with those who are struggling more than I during the pandemic.

QUARANTINE Horizon fading from scarlet To a bruising black, No stars to alight these Long, lonely nights.

Venus alone rises From the grave of the sun, Her beauty, soft and sweet, Soothes our aching sorrows Our eyes rise in surprise To the swan of the sky, Lighting the horizon For the misfortunate.

May she bless our farewells, So lovingly distant.

May she bless the men and women Guiding our loved one’s into the night.

May we learn to live and love intimate at a distance.

Shine bright In a lonely sky

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TEDDY PYLE I spent the beginning of quarantine in my house in the suburbs of Boston with my parents, three brothers, and one of my roommates from SAS. I wrote this submission to explore the need for structure in my life.

FINDING STRUCTURE At the start of quarantine my roommate William and I began printing t-shirts.

Spring Break was over, but online classes had not yet started, and we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. William had moved into my house at the very end of Spring Break, because he was waiting to hear if the summer programs he signed up for would still be happening. During our first week indoors, I reveled in my new freedom. For the first time in what felt like my entire life, there were massive stretches of time in which I had no true responsibilities. I spent the time doing completely self-serving and meaningless tasks: I played video games, threw a lacrosse ball with William, and went on the occasional run. However, a few days in, my enjoyment of these activities declined exponentially. I found that doing things solely because you want to is gratifying at first, but without other work and responsibilities, these actions quickly become mundane and joyless.

It was at this time when William suggested we do something creative. I agreed, thinking that even if this new activity did not engage me creatively, at least it would provide some busywork to contrast my meaningless pastimes, hopefully reviving the enjoyment I once gained from them. We decided on printing t-shirts, because the process seemed relatively simple: we would carve stamps out of rubber blocks, roll ink over those stamps, and press them onto a blank shirt to create a print. However, despite the simplicity of the process, printing t-shirts was incredibly time-intensive; William and I spent hours generating design ideas, carving blocks and creating test prints. By the time online classes started, we had made only five shirts, all with the same print. In spite of the low output, the process of printing t-shirts provided the necessary structure for me to live a more fulfilled life. Rather than drifting though days aimlessly, I now had a task that felt meaningful. The task of printing t-shirts gave me purpose when I woke up, and a sense of accomplishment when I went to sleep, even though in reality, I had accomplished very little.

As classes come to an end, I wonder about how I will structure my time this summer. The summer camp that I work at has been cancelled, leaving me with no job, and William will be moving out soon, meaning no more t-shirts. This vast stretch of empty time is a bit daunting, as I don’t want to fall into the same banal pattern of boredom and aimlessness that I found myself in at the start of quarantine.

However, the early weeks of quarantine have taught me that if I commit myself to a creative or academic task, the empty days of quarantine become structured, and I will feel more at ease.

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HELEAH SOULATI I am from Oxford, Maryland. During quarantine, I used painting and other forms of art to reflect on my time at home. This picture represents the coordinates of my house in Oxford, Maryland which is where I have spent my time with my family during this quarantine. I will always remember this place because of the memories we have made here.

PAINT BY NUMBER

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LUKE BARNES This is a trailer for a documentary I made for fun over quarantine. I used footage that I filmed of the thirds basketball team during one of their game days and their picture day.

3RDS BASKETBALL MOVIE TRAILER

↑

scan to watch

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NICK LILLEY During this unprecedented time, I realized how important nature is to me. Having to spend more time inside than I would like, the little moments among the trees and in the creek were so important in clearing my mind and making me smile.

I was staying in Silver Spring, Maryland with my family. I was reading National Geographic articles about sustainability and the direction the natural world is headed in. I was researching technologies, understanding the En-ROADs climate simulator, and developing a passion for discovering ways to harmoniously live with the earth, not against it.

A HOPE FOR A BETTER FUTURE

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DUY ANH NGUYEN I’m from Vietnam and I made a short and simple basketball workout plan that you can do every day while stuck inside. It only takes 10 minutes to complete. Follow this and you will get handles like Kyrie and maybe make JV basketball next year. I have done this myself and my dribbling skills have improved immensely!

TOUGH HANDLES WORKOUT ○

For advanced dribblers, put your basketball inside of a plastic bag

○

Do the drills as fast as possible while staying in control of the ball

○

Keep you head up and stay low

○

Do this anywhere Ǯ

Warm up: Stretch + 20 dribbles each hand

Ǯ

Basic crossover: 2 minutes

Ǯ

Figure 8 dribbles: 1 minute

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Ǯ

Between the leg: 1 minute/leg

Ǯ

Behind the back: 1 minute

Most important: Ǯ

Shamgod crossover: at least 2 minutes.

This is the move that is going to excel you to the next level.

https://youtu.be/mtSvVFyLVhQ

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ZACH SHEPPARD This is my playlist that I made during quarantine. It is significant to me because it helped me keep my calm during this difficult time for everyone.

PEACE

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HAYDEN MESSINA TESTING POSITIVE AT ST. ANDREW’S Only ten days after returning to St. Andrew’s for the spring of my senior year, I checked into the Health Center because I was undoubtedly sick. I was extremely congested and had a severe headache. As I sat in the cold and sterile examination room and waited for my rapid COVID-19 test to develop, I thought back to a day during my junior year where I was in the same situation. The flu test I took that day came back positive, and I sat in disbelief as I was told to wear a surgical mask and return home. I got a taste of the impending pandemic by quarantining before it became a societal norm. In fact, I was only back at school for a week and a half before we left for Spring Break and did not return.

My attention shifted back to the door as the nurse slowly entered the room.

Something about the way she hesitantly peeked around the corner before stepping inside told me that the unthinkable had occurred. I had become the first St. Andrew’s student to test positive for the coronavirus while at school. I have never experienced such vivid déjà vu as in that moment. The setting and the bad news, but more importantly the feelings of incredulity and confusion, were all the same. Except this time the implications for the school as a whole were much more serious.

The next couple hours were a blur. I called my parents and tried to explain what happened while failing to process this turn of events myself. Then, I began the arduous process of contact tracing. Because of my pounding headache, I struggled to recount who I was nearby at every single class, practice, meal, and moment of free time. As I stated names or wrote them down, I felt as if I was selling out my friends and dooming them to a bleak period of isolation. I pressed on because it was a matter of safety. As for people feeling angry towards me for causing them to quarantine, the alternative of the virus spreading and the entire school going virtual was much worse. I felt guilty nonetheless.

I conclude this piece after recovering and I am back in my dorm room. I wrote it at the height of my symptoms, so I did not know what to expect when I went to revise it. I found absolutely no grammatical errors. Instead, I encountered thoroughly bland writing with simple vocabulary and unvarying sentence structure. I believe this writing reflects my mindset at the time. I was constantly achy and completely isolated from others. My loss of taste and smell further exacerbated my senselessness. I felt as if I was simply existing, so it follows that my writing was bland and emotionless.

After witnessing the pandemic, seemingly from afar, for about a year, it came directly to me and struck me down. But in many ways I was quite fortunate. I never had to be hospitalized, and no one else got sick. It showed me what I took for granted including my health and my incredible school. This challenge allowed me to take a step back and remember what to appreciate. That being said, I hope that other people are able to find different, less harmful, ways to reevaluate and express gratitude.

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St. Andrew’s School www.standrews-de.org