Taft Global Journal, Fall 2016

Taft School

GLOBAL JOURNAL

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CONTENTS AUTUMN, 2016

3 Pura Vida and Permaculture

7 Rediscovering Shanghai

5 Finding a Second Family 8 A Summer with Sibu

9 A Summer with CTRC

11 Global Journal Photography Contest 13 For the Love of People

15 Stepping Into Another World 17 For Want of Compassion 18 One Man's Trash 19 Temporal

21 Hard Work Coming to Fruition 22 Invitations from Korea

cover art by Justė Simanauskaitė '17

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A MESSAGE FROM

THE EDITORS

Taft prides itself on being a diverse community, representing thirty-three states and forty-seven countries, along with an infinite number of ethnicities and backgrounds.

Global Journal is a student-led publication with the goal of shedding light on the wide range of perspectives present at the Taft School. To this end, GJ seeks to raise awareness of global issues through pieces on current events and travel, and to share the Non Ut Sibi spirit through students’ service experiences. In this issue, we asked students to share not only their summer service adventures, but also the unique aspects of their homes and cultures.

We collect a wide range of articles from anyone who wants to contribute, because it is our firm belief that the GJ should be written by the students, for the students. We are proud to say that this particular issue of the GJ is unique: in addition to brilliant student writing, it also features a variety of pictures from our Summer Photography Contest!

Lastly, a big thank-you to everyone who contributed articles and images to the Global Journal – you are the ones who make this magazine outstanding, and we’re honored to be able to share your thoughts and ideas with the rest of the Taft community. Go Big Red!

editors-in-chief Marisa Mission ‘17

Žygimantas Jievaltas ‘17

editors

Justė Simanauskaitė '17 Nick Morgoshia '17 Lauren Fadiman '17

photo by Rob Falcetti

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Pura Vida and Permaculture story and photos by Benjamin Laufer '18

“Hey Chico; can we stop and see the view?”

The rickety old bus swerved over and quickly came to a halted stop, still halfway in the middle of a busy road in rural Costa Rica. Chico turned around and with a big grin on his face exclaimed “PURA VIDA!” We all let out an awkward giggle, got out of the van one by one, and took the picture you see here.

The humid and yet extremely pleasant Costa Rican breeze rushed through the windows and a combination of our luggage bouncing on the metal top and rhythmic reggae music set the tone. The seven of us still hadn’t spoken much, only a tense game of “two truths and lie” initiated by the counselors. However, despite the “first day of high school” feel, we would come to admire one another and become life long friends in the course of just nine days.

We were a pretty diverse group of kids for a small, Brooklyn-based nonprofit to gather in a foreign country: Maura came from Barcelona, Tamar from Israel, Violet and Maddie from Los Angeles, Sarah from Seattle, and Elizabeth from New York. Despite each of our unique background, we all shared a common interest and curiosity in sustainable agriculture, the environment, and Costa Rican food!

This year, I attended Sustainable Summer’s “Environmental Leadership Institute” at Dartmouth and their sustainability program in Costa Rica. These two programs appealed to me because they weren’t advertised as “immersion” or “adventure” programs where students pay thousands of dollars to travel to a prestigious university or foreign country, spend an hour doing service and taking pictures to post to Facebook, and pass the rest of their time sightseeing and “learning” about the culture. This is not to say that these programs are bad, but they are rarely beneficial to the community and to the knowledge of the participants. In Costa Rica, we took advantage of the unique context we were in to learn about sustainabili-

ty, permaculture, and indigenous values in a way that can’t be taught in an American classroom or learned while sightseeing.

Knowing that I would have to leave for the airport at 4:00 the next morning, a close knit group of ten friends and I stayed up the final night at Dartmouth.

We reflected on the friendships we'd built and the valuable skills we learned that could help us in our future endeavors. I felt under-qualified to be sitting with these unbelievable individuals: from directors of nonprofits, to environmental advocates, to just kind and smart people. After committing that we would stay in touch and deciding that Marley’s house in DC was the best place to meet up afterwards, I quickly said heartfelt “goodbyes” before rushing out.

I dragged my 100-ton suitcase across the Dartmouth quad, took a bus to the airport, flew to Miami, and then sluggishly hopped onto my last flight en route to Costa Rica. Even though I could barely keep my eyes open and my whole body was sore from the relentless hours of flying, I can recall my first night in vivid detail. I remember sitting down at a restaurant in dark side street to eat my first Cansados of the trip: a typical Costa Rican meal with rice, beans, veggies, plantains, and meat. It never got old. I remember sitting on the Chinese style bamboo chairs in the common room of a small motel talking to Tamar. It was uncanny how much we were alike. We both had the uncommon last name “Laufer,” an Eastern European name of which I had never met anyone else with.

We both found our Jewish heritage to be an important part of what defined us as people and were deeply interested in sustainability and environmental issues.

After the first night came to a close, I lay in bed and and stared for a while at the speckled white ceiling. I had felt a sense of belonging and comfort in a place so far away from home.

After my first night, we headed to Rancho Mastatal, a working perennial polyculture farm and sustainability education center. For the next nine days, we worked on the farm, took classes on sustainability and traditional agriculture, and immersed ourselves in the culture of Costa Rica. Every morning, I would wake up at 5:00 A.M. and get myself ready for the day. At 6:00 I would work with the apprentices of Rancho Mastatal on weeding, planting, cooking, natural building, or other daily tasks. The rest of the day was a mix of learning and working, but at 9:00 P.M. we would all gather to reflect on the day.

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Diversity in people not only made the trip exciting but it also made it much more educational. We are all shaped by our experiences. The experiences of a high school kid from Barcelona are far different from those of a kid from Israel which are far different from those of a kid from Connecticut. We came from different socioeconomic and cultural backgrounds but we all had the same vision: to learn and make a difference. Being around other curious students from around the globe and thinking critically about environmental issues has drastically changed my view on the importance of diversity.

Diversity in setting was the second defining feature of my summer program. Sustainability and agriculture in the United States is far different than it is in Costa Rica: the topology, the climate, the soil, the species, and the culture. Traveling abroad made me fully grasp the importance of context when learning and in shaping one’s experiences.

After nine days of working, learning, bonding, and reflecting, I came out feeling empowered and more knowledgeable. These two feelings were in large part due to the people and place; which is the way I want to end this article.

To conclude: break out of your comfort zone.

Meet new people. You’ll be amazed by how much you can learn.

With that, thank you to Sustainable Summer and the Poole Grant for making my summer experience possible!

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Finding a Second Family story and photos by Claire Vithoontien '19

“Don’t open it yet,” my Japanese host sister Marie instructed me. “Look it through once you are on the plane back to America; then you can cry.” I peeked at my host mother: she was sobbing, patting her eyes with a pretty handkerchief. I turned around to my sister and gave her a long hug, my vision blurring as I noticed the other exchange students lining up to go through airport security. My sister released a loud sigh, handing me her own handkerchief; she knew I was crying already. My host-mother wrapped us both in a hug, begging me not to leave yet. She told me that I still had more to do here, more friends to make. That I had to spend more time with her family in Akita Prefecture–the countryside–of the Tohoku region. But then, realizing the time, they quickly let go of me and pushed me towards the security line, waving from the small crowd of other host families. Looking back at them from a distance, I was sad to leave. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with regret–regret that I didn’t have the chance to say any last words to them. Couldn’t even utter a small "thank you" for all that they had done for me in the last six weeks.

When the pilot announced that the plane

was in the air, I opened my host sister’s present: a book. Flipping through its pages, I saw that each of my classmates from 26 Homeroom of Yokote High School had written me a note. Reading through them one by one made my memory flow with thoughts of my friends. My mind was like a dam opening up to the ocean, the gates open and water bursting out.

At the beginning of my exchange, our school had hosted a public event called a “cultural festival,” in which each homeroom class from every grade offered food, games, shops, or galleries to visitors. I was helping some classmates prepare decorations for our “children’s park” theme when the questions began. At first, my new companions were shy, but soon they warmed up and began asking me questions about every topic you can imagine. I remember one girl in particular who asked me about life in America, and especially about our holiday celebrations like Easter and Thanksgiving. We talked for so long that we almost forgot about making the decorations. It made me incredibly happy to know that we could learn and share about each other’s cultures. Rereading her and my other classmates’

cards reminded to me that they really did have fun that day, remembering that specific moment even though I was with them for only one week.

I flipped through to the last page of the album where I found my host sister’s card. I thought about her and the countless times that she’s come to save me from trouble--like the big sister I’d never had. Every night, I would teach her English and about life in America, and in return, she would teach me Japanese Archery (Kyudo). I joined the Kyudo club shortly after I arrived, and--to be honest--it was more work than I had expected. Staying at school for practice until 7:30 in the evening was not something I’d anticipated--but, on the other hand, the rigorous experience was definitely worth it. I would do muscle training and form practice with all the people in my year. When I arrived home, I would continue practicing with my sister. After all the practicing I put into Kyudo for five weeks, I was finally able to shoot arrows and learn about the culture of Kyudo. It was strict, and often times I would mess up, entering the gym with the wrong foot or missing a step before shooting. However, my sister was always there to watch over and correct me. Even outside of school, she always made time for me and took care of our lunch boxes. I wished I could have told her that she was a big sister to me, but

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maybe she already knew that.

Sitting on the plane, I closed the album and shut my eyes, focusing on the loud turbulence all around me. I reminisced about all my friends, too, in 15 HR who had made me an additional poster sitting in my backpack. I wanted to take it out, but I didn’t have the courage to take even a small glance at it. Spending everyday with my 15 HR classmates made me feel like I belonged. Like moving into any new school, at first it was awkward when I entered into their class after a week with 26 Homeroom; nevertheless, they quickly let me into their lives. I honestly felt like I was just another Japanese student in her first year of high school with class 15.

Upon arriving at SFO after hours of flying, I concluded that even though the regret from my departure was still lingering, I was positive that someday I would return to my host family and friends and tell them how much they’d meant to me.

I had this fantastic opportunity to spend six weeks of my summer in Japan thanks to a non-profit organization for exchange programs called Youth for Understanding (YFU). Without them, I would have not been able to become an exchange student and experience a new lifestyle and culture. The experience allowed me to immerse myself into the life of a normal Japanese high school student--to experience Japan as more than an average tourist. Even now, I think about all the friends I made in my short stay: I know that our shared memories will be engraved in my mind­for a lifetime.

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Rediscovering Shanghai story and photo by Corrine Bai '18

Having spent two years at a US boarding school, I sometimes feel distant from my hometown: Shanghai. Whenever I am back in there, I try to re-familiarize myself with the radiance of the city – to venture into the unknown lanes and streets covered by hundred-year-old London Plane, to understand its distinct culture, economy, and values.

This summer, I found the best way to know my city better; I worked as an intern at the Shanghai branch of China Daily, an English publication covering stories all around China. By writing for China Daily, I was able to dig into some trending economic and cultural issues in Shanghai and gain a better understanding of its development.

The China Daily office is located on Middle Huaihai Rd., one of the busiest streets in the center of the city. Through my daily commute via subway, I experienced the fast pace and vigor of this vibrant city. Although getting myself through the crowd was difficult during the rush hours, I was impressed by the massive system of fourteen metro lines and more than 360 stations that connected the city.

Within a five-minute walk from the office I worked in is the famous French concession: Xintiandi. It is a district full of French style stone buildings from the early 1900s, but also infused with a modern touch by shops and restaurants. I greatly enjoyed walking around the block and admiring its unique architecture, occasionally stopping by to have lunch in Xintiandi's lovely outdoor eateries.

One of my favorites stories that I covered was about an online celebrity sensation. On Chinese social media, there are a growing number of Internet celebrities who have gained substantial influence by uploading original posts about fashion, video games, entertainment, and other topics. In June, a conference was held in Shanghai to discuss the development of the Internet celebrity phenomenon into a larger and more professional industry. Because social media provides the biggest entrance to the consumer market in this mobile-Internet era, the influence of cyber-celebrities could be extremely profitable with better-quality content and the right marketing. The experience of writing this article introduced me to the new form of economy that is emerging in China. With the introduction of live video streaming and better content development, more and more people – especially those belonging to younger generations – will receive

information through videos and pictures on easily accessible social media websites.

I also wrote a story on the skyrocketing housing price in Shanghai and its repercussion: residents are moving away from the downtown area in droves. To augment my statistics, I interviewed people on the street and asked them about their housing situation. Stopping random people on the road and asking questions was intimidating at first, but I was able to talk a diverse group of people, who provided a well-rounded picture of the housing situation in Shanghai. Only a small amount of middle-aged citizens were able to afford their own house in the central area of the city, while the vast majority faced the pressure of debt upon purchasing a house. As owning a house instead of living in a rented house is a crucial part of Chinese culture, many of the people had no choice but to seek cheaper options at the outskirt of the city. Sheila, a 29-year-old from Fuzhou province in south China, told me that the burden of buying a house is heavier for immigrants like her, because they had to buy another house for their parents in Shanghai to fulfill their responsibility of filial piety.

Besides writing the stories, I also dug into the diminishing silk-fan-making artistry in the Southern-Yangtze River area and made videos about the closing of a major department store due to competition from online shopping platforms. During my one-month internship at China Daily, I immersed myself in unfamiliar corners of the city and discovered all dimensions of Chinese society through my pen and my lens. Developing at a high speed, Shanghai constantly surprises me with its diversity and novelty.

A Summer with Sibu

This past summer, I traveled to Costa Rica and volunteered at Sibu Sanctuary, a nonprofit organization located in Nosara, Costa Rica, that is dedicated to rescuing and rehabilitating injured and orphaned monkeys. Steve and Vicki Cohen, the couple that runs Sibu, work all day, seven days a week, to provide these animals with the care they need so they can eventually release them back into the wild. They rescue many species of monkeys, the most common being howlers and capuchins, along with other indigenous Costa Rican animals that need help, such as coatimundis and peccaries. In addition to providing constant care for the animals, Steve and Vicki advocate to the government and power companies of Costa Rica, asking for insulation on all Costa Rican power lines. Many of the monkeys that they take care of have been electrocuted by power lines. They also attempt to educate the Costa Rican public about this problem, since tourism in Costa Rica is constantly increasing, and consequently many pay more attention to the tourism industry than to the indigenous animals. I was incredibly excited to help out in any way I could, especially since I, as a tourist, was part of the problem.

My family has been working with Sibu for a couple years now. My sisters and I have all volunteered, my parents are friends with Steve and Vicki, and we try to spread Sibu’s mission in our hometown. We sell calendars and other merchandise in Aspen and also try to educate our friends about Sibu’s mission. My older sister and I made a documentary together last year about Sibu, which we showed at Taft in Bingham Auditorium. Costa Rica is such a special place full of incredible wildlife and interesting people. My family has completely

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story and photo by Jamie Howie '18 fallen in love with the country and will do whatever we can to protect it.

Sibu is very high up in the mountains, and has grown over the years in terms of their property.

They have very large habitats for the monkeys, a green house, Steve and Vicki’s house/offices, and a volunteer cabana. My work at Sibu this year consisted mainly of working directly with the animals in their habitats, which was fantastic. I gave them their food, cleaned up when they were done, prepared the food for the next day, and cleaned up the kitchen as well as the habitat. The monkeys have a very specific feeding routine, which speaks to how well they are cared for at Sibu. Their diet mainly consisted of lettuce, apples, watermelon, beets, and other fruits, which were cooked and separated into several bowls and distributed into each section of the habitat. I occasionally brought the peccary, named Lupita, food too. I was happy to do anything I was asked, but working with the monkeys was amazing.

While volunteering at Sibu I had the opportunity to talk with many amazing people about why they were either working or volunteering at Sibu, and what it meant to them. Talking to Vicki about Sibu was especially enlightening. Her passion for this cause and her vision for the future are extraordinary. It was incredible for me to see how she has dedicated her life to this cause and how she inspires others – like myself – to stand up for the things that we believe in. I admire her determination to educate others about the problems facing Costa Rica’s wildlife and to advocate to bodies of power for actual change. Without her and her husband, who speak for the wildlife of Costa Rica, the country would have a very large problem with no one to fix it. Since I have come to love Costa Rica like a second home, it has become increasingly important to me to advocate for this cause and protect the land that is so special to me and my family.

Sibu is a very worthwhile cause and I was proud to have volunteered there and played a small part in what they do day after day. It was an amazing experience for me, not only working with the animals but also talking to people about how important this issue is in Costa Rica and realizing that I will do anything I can to help. In the future, I hope to volunteer for a longer period of time and extend Sibu’s mission to a larger audience, including Taft.

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Summer with the CTRC story and photos by Magda Kisielinska '18

The flight from Warsaw to Cairns included two extensive layovers and around 21 hours spent on a plane. The longest plane ride of my life was the beginning of one of the most amazing volunteering experience I have ever had!

Cairns Turtle Rehabilitation Centre (CTRC) is located on Fitzroy Island, just a 45 minute ride from the Reef Fleet Terminal. All volunteers of the program took a ferry every morning to the magnificent Fitzroy Island. Some of the

volunteer veterans named this island “paradise.”

I must admit, that Fitzroy does depict all of the characteristics of an island located in the Pacific Ocean, and certainly deserves the epithet. The place where I volunteered, was located exactly in the middle of the Fitzroy island. The area was fairly small, containing turtles’ tanks, a small food preparation area, a couple of hoses, and a few fridges to keep the food preserved. My daily routine consisted of changing and cleaning filter bags, preparing food for the injured turtles, and cleaning their tanks.

First, let me introduce you to a few residents of the CTRC. Rinnie, a small green turtle, which was brought to the center due to an oil spill. She was quickly treated and currently resides at the center trying to gain some weight before she can be released back into the ocean.

Nelly, another green turtle, suffered from fibro papilloma, a disease that develops tumors on the turtle's body. This illness makes swimming, eating, and seeing very difficult, sometimes - impossible. Luckily, she was treated with a vaccine, which helped her overcome the disease.

Now, she is retained in the CTRC to fully recover. Fun fact about Nelly: she loves cuttlefishes’ eyeballs and tentacles; hence, volunteers like to leave out those parts of cuttlefishes especially for her. Another turtle, Lou, was found tangled in a fish net. While trying to free himself, Lou had bit one of his flippers off, and lost another one due to unknown circumstances. Now, he learned how to swim with only two flippers; one in the front, and one in the back. Fortunately, the two flippers are located on opposite sides of his body, allowing him to swim back into the ocean after he is fully recovered. In addition to helping out injured turtles, once a week, the volunteers would clean their tanks by draining the water and scrubbing all of the algae and dirt from the sides of the tank. Meanwhile, others scratch the turtles with brushes. Turtles living out on the natural reef would scratch their back against corals to remove any algae or itchiness they might be experiencing; therefore, the volunteers try to subside for the lack of corals in the tanks.

Another part of my volunteer experience was the reef monitoring program called “Eye on the reef,� an Australian government's initiative,

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which allows citizens and tourists to contribute to reef preservation. Volunteers, who decide to participate, have to go through a brief training that teaches them to recognize particular species and types of coral, fish, mammals, and reptiles that are present on the reef. After receiving proper instruction, they are asked to either take part in snorkelling or diving in the ocean and fill out data sheets that include various tables for different categories, tendencies, and percentages that allow the local government to compare data gathered in different regions of the reef. I had the possibility to participate in this program under the surveillance of a volunteer who has gone through the training described above, hence due to my little experience in this field, I was able to learn a lot of new information about the reef and its inhabitants.

The CTRC is one of the most important stages that an injured or diseased turtle needs to go through before going back to the ocean.

Even though, my volunteer experience was not very physically challenging but it allowed me to realize that all the small things we do can eventually have an enormous impact, not only in such centers as CTRC, but also by finding ways to help turtles on a daily basis.

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Summer Photography Contest First Place Barbara Garza '18

Second Place Clara Ye '19

Third Place Nina Garfinkel '17

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Runners-Up AJ Barre'17

Barbara Garza '18

Annabelle Pulver '18

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For the Love of People

story and photos by Catherine Dear Ganung

This summer we were down by the docks in Helsinki and decided to grab some lunch at the Market Square. Like everywhere in Finland, there was fresh grilled salmon for a great price at this little fish stand by the water. We sat down at a picnic table in a crowded tent and were quickly joined by a Swedish woman. There was no other seating and after a few quiet moments, we struck up a conversation. She was in Helsinki visiting her daughter who had just moved to Finland. They were originally from the Swedish part of Lapland, up above the arctic circle.

She asked us about our travels and we explained that we had originally planned to visit Finnish Lapland, but it was too expensive and the capital, Rovaniemi, seemed to be for families who desired to visit Santa Claus. “Of course,” she explained, “you need to drive a few hours north of Rovaniemi to see everything you’d like to see in Lapland.” Within the next hour she gave us affordable suggestions for travel and different sites to see. We took her suggestions, did some research, and by the end of the day we had rerouted part of our journey to Lapland.

The entire trip was an extraordinary adventure. We flew up to Oulu on the northwestern coast of Finland and drove up past beautiful rivers to Ivalo, a town where people pan for gold.

The next day, we drove up to Inari to learn about the flora and fauna of the region, the culture of the indigenous Sami people, and their religious traditions. The highpoint of the day was our visit to the Pielpajarvi Wilderness Church. A Sami church in the original winter village of the Inari

people, this wooden gingerbread-style Lutheran Church was built in 1752. It is located eight kilometers from the village of Inari, near an enchanted forest of firs and birches, running rivers, peat bogs, and a plethora of beautiful wild flowers.

Because the church was so far out in the woods and the only way to get there was to hike, paddle up, or travel up through the snow, the church services were limited. However, when the communities did meet, they would reside there for a couple of days. Even today services are only held for Christmas, Easter and Midsummer celebrations.

The mosquitos were thick and ruthless, driving the reindeer of the forest right out onto the roads. We saw many of these elegant animals in the woods and roads in northern Lapland. If we had not taken the time to chat with this Swedish Laplander, we would not have known about the genuine treasures that northern Finland had to offer. If we had not taken the time to amend our

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plans, even though in only a moment’s notice, we would not have been able to fully understand the culture and faith of the native northern Sami people.

Likewise, when we found out that we had the chance to go to Finland, we realized we would be pretty close to Lithuania, the homeland of two of our Tafties, Juste Simanauskaite and Zygi Jievaltas. We decided to find out what life is like in their part of the world. After travelling on a morning ferry from Helsinki to Estonia, we visited Tallinn, Estonia and Riga, Latvia before heading down to Vilnius, Lithuania. The Baltic countries are a lovely mix of pastoral countryside, charming medieval villages, and some industrial city life. It is an intriguing combination of old and modern design with gorgeous churches and a beautiful coastline. Zygi showed us around the capital, Vilnius, and Juste together with her family introduced us to her hometown, Kaunas. Zygi and

Juste told us about the coastal town, Klaipeda, and the long isthmus of beaches and dunes called the Curonian Spit, a UNESCO World Heritage site. If it hadn’t been for Zygi and Juste’s suggestions we never would have discovered the “Nantucket of Lithuania.” It’s just a ten-minute ferry from the coastal town of Klaipeda to the top of the dunes. From there, the road down the spit cuts through an open sunny forest and ends in the southernmost town of Nida, a charming summer village with German roots. The Parnidis dunes end in Nida as well. We hiked up to the top of the dunes and found a larger than life-size sundial that keeps time, accurately depicts the calendar, and marks solstices and equinoxes.

A beautiful old fishing village, Nida was a 19th century expressionist artists' colony. The writer Thomas Mann also had a house in Nida, which has since been turned into a museum frequently visited by tourists.

Finland, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania were all beautiful countries full of surprises. We were lucky to have the time to visit these countries and we were glad to be lenient with our plans when we visited each place. Being open to possibilities while travelling allowed us to fully experience the beauty and culture of each locale. We learned and experienced the specifics that the locals took part in: listened to their stories, ate what they ate, walked where they walked - lived through a day in their lives. In that way we could see the world from a new perspective, which, over time, helped us to be open to the considerations, interests and the love of people right next door or even across the globe.

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Stepping Into Another World

story and photos by Peem Lerdputtipongporn '17

8th/June/2016 – My trembling hands clung to two bags. I directed my eyes forward, yet I kept glancing back. A one-week study in Japan had been my longest departure from Thailand, and I had suffered from homesickness then. This trip to America would be one year.

9th/June/2016 — 47 students (most of whom I didn’t know) would share this journey. I felt somewhat uncomfortable being labelled “Thai Scholars 59” along with 47 other people. The weather was 58 degrees Fahrenheit, although it was summer. We arrived at Brewster Academy in New Hampshire around 2 AM, and everyone went straight to bed, only to wake up 5 hours later for our first-day orientation.

10th/June/2016 — I signed an “English Promise” to speak only English throughout my stay at Brewster.

Zealous, I initiated English conversation with other Thai Scholars using “How are you today?”/ “How’s the weather today?” only to receive two replies “I’m fine”/ “It’s cold.” Worse, regardless of how many times I bit my tongue, fatigued my jaws, and splashed my saliva, most Americans couldn’t differentiate my R/L, Ch/Sh, Th/T pronunciation. My hand gestures spoke much more clearly than my voice. Even though I upheld my English promise seriously, I still have some trouble with pronunciation, something that I struggle with greatly at Taft.

13th/June/2016 (Morning) — Today marked my first academic day. I ambled to classes while watching squirrels climb up a lush, gigantic tree in front of my dormitory. Despite leaving my room at 6:45 AM, I arrived at my destination at 8 AM, just in time. My teacher, Ms. Lopez, suggested that in America, I live at a faster pace because everything here happened so quickly. I resolved to try to change my lifestyle.

13th/June/2016 (Afternoon) — I loathe every type of athletic activity, but Brewster Academy required everyone to participate in afternoon recreation from 4-5:30 PM at the turf Field. My friends were learning how to hit a homerun while I was struggling to even hit a ball. Sunlight in New Hampshire was different than in Thailand; although I barely sensed any heat, my skin was burnt.

14th/June/2016 — 48 Thai Scholars began having lunch together in their discussion groups: 6 students, with 1 American teaching assistant. My discussion group was named “Houston”, and we referred to ourselves as Houstonians. Everyday, the TAs would initiate basic conversations using “How is your class going?” and “What is your favorite class/teacher?” to encourage daily English. Some tables were also accompanied by Thai TAs whose role was to bridge cultural differences between Thai Scholars and American teachers. These Thai TAs had transitioned from Thai to American education before, so they understood the difficulties Thai scholars usually experienced at boarding school or college.

29th/June/2016 — Turf field was occupied today, so we ran as far as we could for 15 minutes and turned back while trying to maintain a constant speed. Since I’m rather unathletic, I fell into last place.

However, one cadet slowed his running to my pace, so we could run in each other’s company. He would clap his hands and cheer me on, “Come on pug! [referring to my pug T-shirt] You can do it! Don’t stop!”

I began to feel accepted for who I was by this community. My friendship with the other Thai scholars began to blossom. The hardship of missing Thai food, Thai culture, and Thai people, combined with being bombarded by schoolwork, merged us into a tightly-knit community.

18th/July/2016 — We discussed racism in America, and what each Thai TA had faced at his/her boarding school. I asked them if there was a race/ethnicity that they, in their experience, found to be especial-

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ly demeaning to Thai Scholars? One of them replied, “If you stereotype one race as being racist, you are even worse. They are racist; you are being racist and hypocritical.”

** That day, I started befriending M, my American TA born in Jamaica. Since Thailand was a rather homogeneous country, my exposure to black culture was minimaI, so I used to avoid black people because I didn’t understand their culture. M flipped my attitude towards black people. After three months of interacting with M in class, recreation, and the dorms, I learned many things about Jamaican culture, which I found truly admirable. As a result, I feel no strain when learning about the cultural diversity of all the Taft students.

11th/August/2016 —The first two Thai scholars departed to their respective boarding schools today.

We have stayed together for three months, and now we must depart to different boarding schools across the States. At first I cried, but my TAs told me, “You will cry for the first few times when someone departs. Each goodbye becomes easier after the last one.” Anxiety started to grow, “Many Thai Scholars will at least have another Thai Scholar who attends same school, but I will move to Taft alone.” ** We Scholars miss one another a lot, but none of us have time to skype or even text because we have become busy with school activities, SAT, TOEFL, college applications, and the stresses of adjusting to the culture in their boarding schools. Unfortunately, there just isn’t enough time in the day.

26th/August/2016 — Today was my graduation day from Brewster Academy Summer Program. How quickly time swept by. It felt like yesterday when we said “Hi”, and now we have to say goodbye. I feel like I haven’t adjusted to American culture yet, but it is time.

5th/Sept/2016 — My summer has ended. Goodbye Brewster. Hello Taft.

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For Want of Compassion

story and photo by Maggie Keeler '18

Phobia or fear about a trip to the doctor’s office is common among most children; however, my anxiety toward the pediatrician as a child was more than just a minor concern. My memory takes me back to many long, tearful hours of doctors, nurses and parents holding my thrashing limbs down to give me a vaccination, take an x-ray, or extract a throat culture. While waiting for a test, my miniscule fingers would always tremble as they nervously tore little pieces off of the paper sheet covering the examination table. I could taste the little splinters of the wooden tongue depressor in the back of my mouth. I could envision someone poking a hole in my arm, the bleeding never stopping. The stereotype of the doctor’s office is very negative in the eyes of little children, and most definitely was in mine.

Therefore, I truly believe that there must be a change in children’s healthcare, implemented by developing new methods that emphasize an atmosphere of compassion and reassurance for children, eliminating anxiety over visits to the pediatrician's office. Meg Page, too, was dedicat

ed to compassionate healthcare, which is exactly why I used the Meg Page Grant to pursue my interests in medicine at Georgetown University this past summer. As a high school junior, I can’t say with certainty right now that I want to be doctor or surgeon. However, the Meg Page Grant gave me the opportunity to help me further explore my interests and determine what direction to take, whether that means pursuing a career as a doctor, a medical researcher, or a lawyer advocating for family health issues.

I first arrived at Georgetown on June 19th, on one of the hottest days of the summer. I quickly became friends with my roommate from California as we began our busy week. We got our schedules, and saw intriguing activities like “Cadaver Lab,” “Childbirth Simulator,” and “Stitches and Suturing Lab.” One of my favorite experiences was the cadaver lab, where we could actually touch preserved human remains and explore different parts of the body in person. This lab gave me an experience unlike anything I’ve ever seen in a textbook or classroom; learning with your hands inside of an actual body teaches much more than just concrete facts. The excitement of walking up the hill in lab clothes everyday was potent, and the labs opened up my eyes to the reality of the vastness of the medical field.

Besides the labs, the lectures (some of which were more than 4 hours long!) were fascinating. One lecture was about x-rays and radiology, and it mostly consisted of photos of thing people ingested, such as coins, nails, and marbles.

Another was all about mental health and suicide at colleges. Overall, the time I spent at the Georgetown Medical Institute not only gave me a more hands-on experience with and knowledge of medicine, but also allowed me to spend time on a college campus, and help me solidify my interests. The Page Grant and summer program at Georgetown allowed me to pursue my interests and passion for changing the way children cope with visits to the pediatrician, and helped me become a part of continuing Meg Page’s legacy of compassionate healthcare.

One Man's Trash The wind of San Francisco was chilly, and I was not initially planning on a long walk in the evening. I was visiting my mother’s brother and his wife, who both were artists. After going out to dinner, we stopped at the nearby park to walk Lucy, my aunt and uncle’s dog. We strolled up to the entrance of the Albany Bulb Park, Lucy running ahead of us. At first, the park seemed normal: concrete pathways between wild flowers and typical west coast scrubby trees. Later, my uncle explained that many of the trees in San Francisco adapted to the lack of rain by growing hard, shiny leaves that gather the fog from the air and funnel the moisture toward the ground under the tree’s canopy. As we continued along, I quickly realised that this was not a typical park like the ones I used to see in the quaint New England, and not because all the trees looked like they had holly leaves.

Sculptures made of trash dotted the coastline. They were all built together by many city visitors, in addition to a migrating homeless community, and a couple other local artists in the area. Most memorable sculpture was the partially built dragon and rider set, which, according to my aunt, was deconstructed and soon to be rebuilt. Figures ranging between 5-7 feet height interacted with each other, or sat alone, thinking.

Later, after doing some research, I found out that the trash-art reached its peak in around 2008; therefore what I had seen was merely a fraction of what once was situated along the beach. According to the Albany, CA website, the park was a landfill in 1984, and around 2002 was converted, along with some other land around the town of Albany, into a park.

According to my aunt, the homeless population lived in this particular park before being evicted and there was still evidence of their presence. As I looked around, I could see patterns of rocks that lay spread over more open spaces, and small huts along the beach and cliff area.

Built out of chicken wires and bits of rocks, cement, brick and other items that had washed up along the beach, these shelters were surprising

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story and photo by Marley Thompson '18 ly sturdy, and could even be considered lovely.

These structures and their surroundings were covered with several layers of graffiti, which can also be considered a type of art that I personally enjoy (in moderation, where appropriate… I’m not encouraging explicit tagging on the front of the Wu building…). The edges of the graffiti - art layers were vivid: orange on top of purple, red on top of green, in addition to the different artist’s tags overlapping and responding to each other, spreading over the structures on the ground and even some cliff faces.

While preparing to study AP Studio Art at Taft, working on my summer art portfolio, in addition to the fact that I was a long time vegetarian and environmentalist, I was genuinely excited to see the extreme repurposing of trash. This unique way of redesigning structures, revived the park and the reinforced the idea that art can thrive in any region of the world: wealthy, poor, countryside or urban. Although, it will probably take some years before I have the chance to go back, the driftwood dragon and his companions will always remain in my memory and inspire me to proceed with my own artistic endeavors.

19

Temporal

story and photos by Zach Mariani '18

It’s weird how time moves. Waiting to leave for months, weeks, days, hours, time seems to slow practically to a halt. Then all at once, the airport, goodbyes, tears, laughs, introductions, take off. Making the mistake of watching Sinister on the flight, I awoke after two hours of restless sleep to the twinkling Parisian skyline.

“Light Tunnels” plays through my headphones; the sun rises over the city asleep below me. We descend, passing the Louvre, Eiffel Tower—little toy-like figures only before seen in photos. I am surrounded by so many new places and people.

This journey started many months ago after stumbling upon SYA, a school that promised a grand French adventure to American high schoolers. After two years in a stuffy boarding school having studied French for four years with little progress, I decided to uproot my life, leave my friends, my family, my home, my country, my language—all on the promise of this grand adventure which lay ahead, just around the corner.

The morning of the flight, I woke up before the

sun and watched my last routine American sunrise. As the sun crept across the sky, my whole family, teary-eyed, accompanied me to the airport to say, Au Revoir.

SYA’s meeting at a hotel in Boston was filled with more introductions, names (so many names), and faces (so many faces). We paraded to Air France’s check-in counter: fifty-six students and hundreds of pounds of luggage, remnants of

our lives at home. But where was home? This would inevitably change for all of us during the year to come. At first, our time in the Boston airport went by slowly as student after student piled their luggage up to be weighed, checked, and bagged. But then all at once, I found myself at the TSA line. Here, I officially said my last painful goodbyes to my family, to my old life. It’s a weird feeling, to know that you are leaving a home for a year, but life doesn’t always permit you to stop and reflect. Air France 333 would start boarding soon, and now I had to look away from the past towards the future.

It’s weird how I impatiently waited for months for this moment, and when it finally arrived I was overcome, thoughts of memories of home flooded my mind. We took off as the sun set over Boston and my past. I sunk into Sinister, then nodded off into the night. We awoke to a French breakfast over the English Channel; people in the cabin began to stir. We descended gracefully through the air, into Charles de Gaulle.

Time again began to race around me, through the jet bridge, through baggage claims, through immigration, through customs, and finally through the chic, modern, clean lobby which told tales of the year to come.

Onto the bus, and towards Rennes, I surprised myself. I was ready. Thoughts of home were fleeing, scared off by the rising French sun.

After the short night on the plane, I knew that this would be the right decision; time here would not slow for me, I would race through the year with it.

At lunch, I continued to learn faces and names, finally starting to put them together. Eventually, we arrived in Rennes, anxiously waiting in a sea of fresh faces to meet my host family. My name was the third called and roars of applause released all

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of my prior anxiety. As the car raced over the Renais road towards my new home, I spent a minute to consider what I had done, and yet, I still was not hesitating. I did not experience the fear of missing out. I was filled with more and more anticipation of what was to come: what would the rest of the family be like, how about the other kids at SYA, the school trips, the French? The first dinner with them passed quickly, and suddenly for the first time in two days, I found myself alone in bed just about to fall asleep.

The qualms I had experienced on the plane were gone — my home, friends, family, life were all gone, but so was my homesickness. My shock of arrival was surprisingly unshocking. I was ready to tackle this year and everything it had to bring, by myself. Sure, I would still have a school, family, and friends to support me, but they were all unknown, waiting to be explored.

But here I am, and two weeks in, I am still without any hesitations, and whenever I stop to take it all in, I blink and time moves on.

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Hard Work Coming to Fruition story and photo by Eliza Price '17

The summer before my senior year at The Taft School, I interned at the New York Botanical

Gardens. Having lived at Taft for the past three years, I am no stranger to the plethora of exciting opportunities open to students passionate in a given field. The question remained, though, as many of my fellow seniors are can relate to: What do I want to major in? What do I want to do with my major? After completing a semester of AP Biology, I was more certain than ever before that I wanted to go on to have a career in biology. Mrs. Monti then informed my class of an opportunity to work at the New York Botanical Gardens. At that point there was no concrete internship set out, as the curators still were in the process of organizing graduate students, and many had no idea if they would want or need a high school intern. But I immediately jumped at the offer to apply to such a prestigious organization.

On June 16th, 2016, five hours after arriving back in America from a volunteering trip to Guatemala, I woke up for my first day of commuting. I was to work under curator Dr. Barbara Ambrose and the Genomics laboratory technician Tynisha Smalls. I worked on a fruit development project that compared three different species of genetically similar plants that had widely differing fruit structures.

The goal was to see what genes were turned on at what point in the development of the fruit. No part of the project had been done before, or set up for me to do. The three plants I worked with were wild strawberry, Potentilla neumanniana, and Sanguisorba minor. Wild strawberry and Sanguisorba minor are sister plants, but the fruits differ greatly. For example, the strawberry seeds are on the outside while sanguisorba seeds are guarded in the middle of a cluster of flowers.

Based on previous research in the field, we had an initial understanding of the genes involved in the Rosaceae family development, prompting us to work with the MADs: box genes, FRUITFUL, and Agamus.

Another goal of the project was to understand the molecular base of fruit diversity in a specimen. For my internship, I needed to understand the above-mentioned molecular sys-

tematics, apply that to the form and function of the plants, and then make comparisons between organisms.

Tynisha showed me around the lab, and instructed me on modern laboratory techniques.

I did everything in the lab, from growing the wild strawberries that I would be observing, to extracting DNA and RNA from plant tissue, to running PCR and electrophoresis. Dr. Ambrose made sure that my work included a variety of different techniques and scientific approaches—that way I could maximize my education in the two months allotted to me. Of course, I worked mostly on the molecular level, with my project goal being to find the sequences of MADs box genes active in fruit development. Additionally, I was able to observe and do some work in the structural botany lab, putting tissue into wax and sectioning, mounting and staining slides.

From this internship I learned different laboratory techniques that can be applied to a multitude of different experiments and science labs. The real world experience I gained helped me realize that I would love to work as a laboratory technician at some point in my academic career. The facilities I worked in, the equipment I worked with, and all of the research I conducted was completely hinged on the generous donations of Taft alumni supporting young scientists. I would recommend such an internship or program to any and all aspiring biologists.

Invitations from Korea

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story and photo by Yejin Kim '18

Reverend Ganung often says that Taft is blessed to have such a diverse community, and Mr. MacMullen uses the metaphor of “welcoming everyone to the Taft table” to describe how we can learn from each other’s different perspectives and lifestyles. To me, the act of bringing someone to your “table” seemed abstract and hard to understand. Who should I bring to my table? What do I discuss – my upbringing, my culture, or just anything I had to offer?

Would it be hard to bring someone to my table? My questions were answered when I thought about this past summer, when Tise Ben-Eka ‘17 visited Korea for seven weeks in an exchange program focused on learning the Korean language and culture. During her visit, I had the opportunity to bring someone to my table.

Korea is a small peninsula that is very dense in population. We have a history of five millennia, but only in the 20th century, after the Korean War, did we begin to industrialize and become the country we are today, ranking 11th for the highest GDP (Gross Domestic Product). In the late 2000s, Korean beauty trends and culture started to gain recognition worldwide, starting in surrounding Asian countries such as China and spreading to Europe, eventually reaching America. Though geographically small, Korea is represented everywhere in the world. At Taft, we are represented through Korean students.

Before I came to Taft, I thought the K-pop and K-beauty trends were all government propaganda.

And although my year at Taft made me realize that it was not, I still felt that my country, being so small, was neither an object of interest for vacation nor for education. I remember counting the number of times Korea was mentioned in history textbooks – four times in World History and three times in European History, known mostly for the civil war between the North and South. So when Tise said that she would be coming to Korea for seven weeks, I was both really happy and astonished that someone was interested enough in my country to travel fourteen hours across the globe to learn our language, culture, and how Korea has changed post-war.

Tise and I planned for weeks: what to do, where to go, and when to do it. We decided to visit Jongro, one of the oldest major east-west thoroughfares in central Seoul. It has been one of Seoul's most important financial and cultural areas since the Chosun Dynasty, and remains important even today. Some of the remarkable landmarks there include Kyeong Bok palace, where the royal family lived during the Chosun dynasty; Pagoda Park, where the Korean Independence movement started in 1919; and Jongmyo, a UNESCO-protected site where the ancestral tablets

of the Chosun dynasty are preserved. We ended up mostly walking around Kyeong Bok palace and the Insadong area in Jongro.

After a few setbacks, the first thing we did was change into Hanbok – Korean traditional clothing.

We walked through Insadong and visited the palace, which was was full of tourists from China and Japan, although not so much from America. A lot of tourists were wearing hanbok because the visitor's fee is free when tourists are wearing traditional clothes. I had visited numerous times before, so I gave Tise a tour of the palace, after which we took many pictures around the area. After we walked back to Insadong, Tise and I went to the closest café to eat shaved ice and rice cake toast. Tise talked a lot about why she liked to learn Korean and her experiences so far in Korea: for example, living with a host family and the difference in American and Korean food. After walking around a few other places in Insadong, I had to leave because it was quite late and the sun was setting.

Although it only lasted a few hours, the experience turned what could have been a dull summer into one of the most remarkable summers of my life.

It was incredibly interesting to learn how foreigners view my country, and very memorable to see a fellow Taft student travel all the way from the United States just to experience and share my culture. By introducing parts of my country and sharing our experiences, I opened my “table” for the first time to other members of the Taft community. I hope I have the opportunity to welcome Taft students to my country again in the coming years, and I’m glad that I was able to contribute to the diversity in the Taft community.

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