Varshini Arunachalam

It was a warm afternoon, and I was surrounded by a group of eager young faces, curious and excited, waiting for our poetry workshop to begin. 

The room hummed with quiet anticipation, the kind that sparks creativity. As part of a volunteer program with peers from my school, I had embarked on a journey to help underserved primary school students write and perform their own poems. The classroom was bright but modest, its walls adorned with colourful posters. Around 15 students from ages eight to 10 sat at their desks, sharpened pencils and freshly printed booklets in front of them. The challenge wasn’t just about putting words to paper — we wanted to help them unlock their voices' unique rhythms, to teach them the art of telling their own stories and bringing them to the world.

Poetry, I’ve realized over the years, is more than rhyme schemes, literary devices, or metaphors. It’s a way to express our emotions, much like music, which carries rhythms and resonances that touch the heart without the need for elaborate explanations. In many ways, poetry mirrors music, turning words into melancholic melodies and feelings into harmonies. It’s an art form that can convey any message of any depth with just a few carefully chosen words (known as diction). 

My tryst with poetry began when I stumbled upon a dog-eared anthology in the library. At that time, I was more familiar with the art of writing prose and expositions, and the exquisite sensation of finding another means of escape has never truly left me. I still remember the thrill of finally penning my first poem; although clunky, it was wholly mine. 

As we guided these young students through the poetic process that day, I was able to further understand firsthand how art, in its many forms, can be a powerful and amazing tool for us to discover ourselves.The journey began with blank sheets of paper, empty save for a few printed lines, and hesitant pens. Many of the students were unsure of where to start, and looking at their blank pages reminded me of how similarly daunting it had been for me to first make my way into the world of poetry. Since then, I’ve learned that poetry is not really about perfection but about connection. We reassured the students that they could write about anything that moved them, be it something they loved, something that made them delighted, or even something that made them wonder.

Slowly, pens slid across the pages. As I read through their drafts, I really enjoyed looking at the often musical meaning their poems conveyed. When it came time to perform, I could see the students’ initial nervousness start to melt away, and we spent time teaching them to use their voices: to emphasize certain words, pause for effect, and let the rhythm of the poem shine through. Some wrote about impactful, meaningful figures in their lives. One student wrote about her grandmother’s garden, and the depth of imagery was gripping. She spoke of her grandmother’s sudden passing and the subsequent withering of her garden, and her pen found its way to our hearts. Another student’s performance stood out differently — his poem about his love for football showcased his energy and humor to the audience. Describing the thrill of finally scoring a goal, he stomped his feet and mimed the action of kicking a ball, earning cheers and laughter from his peers. The students didn’t need to pinpoint various literary devices used to pique the reader’s attention, for their poems wholly captivated the audience with their rawness, almost as if they were offering us a glimpse into their souls. The joy they found was truly meaningful and struck me.

In this age dominated by screens and various distractions, it was amazing to see the students' receptiveness to such forms of art, and their conviction truly impressed me. Some of them managed to leave the room completely still, their peers hanging on every word. To be honest, the real beauty was watching the students develop not just as poets but as speakers, too, and this was incredibly fulfilling. Public speaking is a skill that may terrify even the best of us, but through their poems, the students actively tried their best, and learned to express themselves openly and confidently. As the workshop came to a close, they built meaningful connections with us and their peers by bringing their poems to life through performance. Their voices managed to add another layer of meaning to their poems, each intonation and tone coupled with the impact of the words striking a deep-set chord in our hearts.

This journey has deepened my love for the arts, and shown me how wonderfully they can bring people together. Everyone’s voices matter, their tales deserve to be heard, and art, in whatever form, can indeed strike a chord deep within us all. Sometimes, the most profound connections are created through simple words, shared in a room brimming with listening hearts.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Varshini Arunachalam explores the impact of helping younger students write and perform poetry.

 Striking Chords Through Words

Music and Art

Liz Fabiola

I started teaching when I was nine years old, volunteering for an after-school program at the Superkids Association. 

There I first learned how to teach reading and writing and, now that I am 15, I also teach reading comprehension to other children. When you are a teacher, your main job is to provide the best education possible to your students, but in some cases, the students actually teach you how you can be better or they make you feel happy when you are together. From my point of view, kids can have a large positive impact on their teachers’ lives.

I experienced this last year, when I taught comprehensive reading to my student, Lucy. I remember the moment when I went to the third-grade classroom to meet my new students and I first saw her. At first, she looked like a shy and quiet kid, and at that moment I thought it might be hard to have a long conversation with her. However, when the day of our first class arrived, we went to the school yard and I started to talk with her and get to know more about her. She answered every question and even started to ask me about myself, and with each question we began to trust each other more. It was awesome, and I felt very proud, because for me, it’s very important that my students trust me and feel comfortable with me during and after class.

At the beginning of our lessons, I noticed that she read slowly and made some mistakes when writing. I remember the first book we read was about a dog who lost his family and his greatest wish was to have a loving family. She loved that story because it made her laugh, and she loved to imagine the possibilities of what could happen on the next page. That book had some hard words that she didn’t understand, so I taught her, and the way that she learned the words’ meanings was by writing them in her notebook and using them in a short story or a sentence. Before taking her back to her classroom, I gave her some homework about writing sentences with some words that she didn't know yet. I also prepared some dynamic games and challenges, because she learned better by playing or doing something that she enjoyed. She always returned to her classroom happy and the teacher thanked me for everything I was doing to help her.

The satisfaction that you feel when someone recognizes that you are doing a really good job is awesome. One day, after I took Lucy to her classroom, her teacher told me that she had made good progress with comprehensive reading and she had improved her orthography. She was very proud of how much Lucy had advanced in such a short time, and I felt even prouder of all Lucy’s effort and a wonderful sense of fulfillment for all my hard work teaching her.

Lucy has been one of my favorite students. She is amazing in all the ways you can imagine. One of the things that I really love about her is that she always has a smile, and she is very kind with everybody. She is very persistent; when she doesn’t know how to do something, she tries again until she achieves her goal, and I admire that. From my point of view, she has so many things to show to the world and she will be able to do incredible things with all the potential she has.

Lucy was my student and my teacher at the same time. She taught me that it does not matter if someone says something negative about myself and my abilities. At the end of the day, I am the only person who knows who I am. Lucy is strong and she knows how to convey her strength, because in the most difficult situations she always smiles and says that she will be able to overcome any obstacle. She taught me that we should never lose our perseverance, and if we fail, we should smile and try again. Some people will say that those are insignificant things, but for me they are very important.

At some point in life, most teachers have a student who teaches them how they can be their best self. Every student has strengths, but it is indisputable that some of them have outstanding qualities and will teach you wonderful things that will serve you for life. Life as a teacher is exhausting sometimes, but is one of the best experiences since you receive the most genuine feelings and unique love of all — the love and smile of a kid.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Liz Fabiola shares the profound impact of teaching younger students to read and write. 

The Smile of a Student

Dylan Zhang

In life, certain pivotal moments signify significant transitions from one stage to another. 

For many teenagers, learning to drive represents a bridge between adolescence and adulthood, a thrilling yet daunting step toward independence and responsibility. My experience learning to drive was not just about mastering the mechanics of operating a vehicle, it was profoundly shaped by the guidance of my school community, highlighting the value of support and mentorship. 

At my high school, the driver’s education program is more than a mandatory class, it offers students a chance to acquire a crucial life skill under the guidance of experienced instructors and fellow peers. The program teaches not only the rules of the road but also instills confidence and responsibility. Reflecting on my time in driver’s ed, I feel fortunate to have had such a structured and encouraging environment to learn this essential skill. 

One of the most impactful aspects of my driver’s ed experience was learning from skilled instructors who were patient, knowledgeable, and genuinely invested in our success. Mr. Johnson, in particular, stood out as a mentor who went beyond simply teaching us how to maneuver a vehicle. He patiently answered our questions, provided constructive feedback, and instilled in us a respect for the rules and safety precautions of driving. His dedication to our learning made a lasting impression, demonstrating the profound impact a supportive teacher can have on a student’s development. 

A particular moment encapsulates the value of mentorship. During a practice session, I struggled with the technique of parking in reverse. Frustration set in, and I felt discouraged by my repeated attempts. At that moment, Mr. Johnson approached me with reassurance and practical advice. His calm demeanor and encouragement helped me regain my focus and approach the task with renewed determination. With his guidance, I eventually succeeded, and that small victory taught me the importance of perseverance and the supportive role a mentor can play in overcoming challenges. 

Beyond the classroom, I found additional support from my peers who were also navigating the challenges of learning to drive. The camaraderie that developed among us was unexpected yet immensely valuable. We encouraged each other through nervous moments behind the wheel, celebrated milestones together, and shared our excitement as we progressed toward earning our licenses. In this shared experience, I learned the significance of peer support and the strength that comes from facing challenges together. 

My experience with driver’s ed extended beyond the technical aspects of driving; it taught me valuable lessons about responsibility, patience, and perseverance in the face of setbacks. Learning to drive is not always smooth sailing; moments of uncertainty and mistakes serve as learning opportunities. With guidance from my instructors and support from my peers, I gained the confidence to navigate these challenges and emerged with a deeper understanding of the responsibilities that come with operating a vehicle. Understanding the consequences of reckless driving and adhering to traffic laws became ingrained in my mindset. This awareness shaped my behavior behind the wheel and heightened my appreciation for responsible driving's role in ensuring the safety of myself and others on the road. 

Looking back, I realize that my time in driver’s ed was not just about acquiring a driver’s license; it was a transformative experience that shaped my perspective on learning and mentorship. The guidance I received inspired me to pay it forward and support others in their own journeys. Whether offering tips to a nervous classmate or patiently guiding a friend through parallel parking, I have come to appreciate the significance of mentorship and its impact on confidence and growth. As I interacted with fellow students in the driver’s ed program, I witnessed firsthand the diverse ways individuals approach learning. Some embraced challenges eagerly, while others needed more encouragement to build their confidence. These interactions reinforced the notion that mentorship is not one-size-fits-all; it requires empathy, patience, and understanding. 

My experience in driver’s ed was more than acquiring a skill, it was about personal growth, community support, and the transformative power of mentorship. The experience left an indelible mark on my journey toward adulthood, equipping me with the ability to drive and the resilience to face life’s challenges head-on. As I continue to navigate new experiences, I carry with me the lessons learned from driver’s ed and remain grateful for the guidance that shaped my path toward independence and responsibility.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Dylan Zhang shares what driver's ed taught him about the value of mentorship. 

Driving Lessons

The School Experience

Lily Wang

"I can’t see you," I repeated for the 10th time. 

I heard a mumbling that sounded awfully like an expletive and the aggressive tapping of nails on glass. Never having known my timid grandmother to show any signs of violence, her uncharacteristic frustration was probably a sign that this was a lost cause.

In the 10 minutes we had been on this call, I had said every variation of "press the camera icon" I could think of, using descriptions so visceral they would move my English teacher to tears. All to no avail. The screen remained black. My own exasperated face reflected at me in its small corner. 

"This isn’t working, Laolao. Forget about the camera. Maybe we can just talk," I sighed.

It would be so wonderful to see her again, even if it was online. It had been a year since I last saw her, hugged her, and devoured her signature fried rice. My grandmother embodies the word "comfort." Growing up, she was always there to bandage my scraped knees, read my favorite bedtime stories, and walk me to school hand in hand. Even when my parents and I migrated to Australia, my relationship with her never wavered. Every two weeks or so, we would catch up on the phone: me updating her on my school drama and she updating me on the family drama. Every Christmas holiday, my parents and I would return to our hometown to celebrate New Year's with her. It was an annual trip we looked forward to greatly.

That is, until COVID. Now, our yearly traditions were reduced to a laggy video call that only worked one way.

"How are you celebrating New Year's?" I asked. She sounded immensely relieved to hear me change the topic as she divulged her plans to make stir-fry and watch some show from a few decades ago that I had never heard of. I nodded sympathetically, knowing that her plans were far from the wonderfully chaotic family gatherings that would otherwise have occurred if not for current circumstances.

As she talked, I was hit with the realization that she had been quarantining by herself for months now. I never fully appreciated just how difficult that must have been for her. She always loved company, and her small apartment was always filled with friends and family coming and going. Now, her solitude was a stark contrast to the lively bustle of her pre-pandemic life.

Simultaneously, I realized that our online calls to each other had become more necessary and significant than ever. In a world that emphasized placing physical distance between individuals, technology could close these gaps. We are brought together in the digital sphere when the physical world is in upheaval. Every time a call starts, we are reminded that our experiences are not singular. We are not alone. Even in the direst situations, connections can still be forged and flourish. Isolation suddenly feels not so isolating when you are laughing with someone through a screen (the lags only make things funnier).

Technology is a difficult space to navigate. There are barriers that inhibit people from accessing it and reaping its benefits. As someone who is fortunate enough to have grown up with technology, I realize that it is my responsibility to help those who don’t share the same privilege. Listening to my grandmother’s animated chatter, I was reminded of all her patience and dedication to me in childhood. Memories of her sounding out my first Chinese characters and walking me through easy math problems flooded my mind. She was, and continues to be, my teacher in so many areas of my life. Now, I have also become hers in the context of technology. It is only right for me to pass on my knowledge, so that she can feel supported and connected in a time of such uncertainty.

It takes a lot of effort and time to gain digital literacy, and even then, things don’t always fall into place. Sometimes the Internet fails, or the call drops, or the screen freezes. Sometimes the camera icon disappears, and video calling is no longer an option. Nevertheless, the knowledge that another person is on the other end, undergoing a shared experience, is in itself comforting. My pandemic-meddled brain was reminded of the historical romance novels I binged, where star-crossed lovers, separated by some potent force, lay awake at night, gazing at the same moon. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t hold each other or see each other. It isn’t about the physical presence of someone, but simply presence. All that matters is that somewhere across the world, someone is cradling a small piece of metal, gazing at a pixelated smile, thinking of you, too. 

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Lily Wang realizes the importance of helping older generations navigate new technology.

The Gift of Presence

Maria Basovska

Over the last 100 years, technological progress has been so rapid that modern life is incomparable to what it was 50, 30, or even 10 years ago. 

The invention of computers 50 years ago already foreshadowed a rapid change to everyday life. Machine calculations, with machines capable of storing data and looking up different information through search engines, replaced the long hours that people spent completing calculations on their own. Like the invention of machine production during the Industrial Revolution, the invention of artificial intelligence, which performs calculations that take a lot of human effort and time, has simplified many tasks using algorithms. This has allowed technological development to move forward. 

Over the past two years, the universal love for progress and new technologies has faded when neural networks that perform artistic work have appeared, generating images, audio, high-quality text-to-speech models, and neural network-writers. Such models are actually not new. For example, the first text-to-speech models were created back in the 90s. The problem is that now the models have improved tenfold, and have begun to be widely used for commercial purposes, correspondingly reducing the labor market in the artistic field. Understandably, this has caused a lot of dissatisfaction and led to job losses and various conflicts, because AI-generated materials are widely used in the commercial sphere. And although the issue is controversial, most agree that AI also does violate copyright unless it is trained on materials that are not protected by it. Finally, the most concerning aspect is the possibility of manipulation, falsification of materials, mass disinformation, and propaganda. The use of AI where manual human labor is impossible, difficult to access, wasteful, and pointless is quite normal. 

On the other hand, completely abandoning AI means abandoning many of the opportunities that this technology offers. Personally, I believe that materials created by AI can be used as a reference, concept, or some kind of “push-off point” from which you can then create your own work manually. I used AI-generated text as a placeholder for my web design project, with no intention to use this option as a full commercial product, purely to visualize how text would look on the designed web page. I used ChatGPT to generate a text for a website dedicated to selling a product, some kind of pen manufacturing brand, because it was perceived better than the filler text, and it helped to better divide the website. For example, I generated a simple text to explain the advantages of the product instead of typing it by myself and wasting a lot of time on it. 

Modern technologies give people access to all kinds of knowledge. Most people I know use AI or different search engines (e.g. Safari and Google) to look up the information they need. For example, large online databases can be used by students for finding information for projects, instead of spending a long time searching for it in books or libraries. I use the Internet for research every time I had to do a school project, because it is much faster and more convenient. It is also a well-known fact that the information on the web is being constantly updated, unlike printed materials. 

My mother works as a scientist in the agricultural sphere (specifically with domestic animals, and every species has a different type of methodology to search for), so she has to dig into a lot of specific scientific information. However, she is not very good at dealing with technology, so I always have to help her with translating or searching for different topics. Last year I used AI to help my mother find specific information for her article. Instead of diving deep into old books or journals on this scientific topic, it was quicker for the machine to find the needed data. So I used the website GoogleScholar, which is not inherently an AI tool in itself, but definitely uses it to find and filter the specific information. This basic information helped my mother to go forward with her research, so she finished her work much quicker than was expected. This experience made me understand how useful the new technologies can be when digging for knowledge if they are used wisely.  

I believe that we will never be able to get rid of AI, no matter how much we refuse to use it, because it will still be beneficial for some, and the majority will not want to give up progress. What we must do is to use it as a tool, but not as the “creator” itself, and use it conscientiously. There are already plenty of cases where AI has been used in scientific papers and competitions, which is against the rules, and it is the job of organizers and publishers to control the falsification and unwise use of AI.

Rapidly developing AI is something that society will have to face head-on, as well as all its consequences. Many companies that immediately began to reduce their labor market because of  high-quality AI image generators returned to the old order after a few months, and there are also many companies that will not use AI on principle. In the end, machines will not replace existing artists, writers, photographers, and others, because this situation clearly reminds me of the moments in history when cameras and digital drawing first appeared. This did not lead to the disappearance of artists (or traditional artists/painters), but only pushed art itself toward progress: during the rise of photography, painters began to abandon academic realism, from which the avant-garde period emerged, which led to the art that we have now. I have always dreamt of being a concept artist, and the development of AI initially overwhelmed me, but after two years it has not stopped me from continuing to work in the direction that interests me. 

New technologies are not something you need to run away from. They are something you need to adapt to and understand how to use to your advantage by helping others.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Maria Basovska looks at how we can use AI ethically, wisely, and for the benefit of society.

Using AI to Help Others

AI and the Future of Knowledge

Henvi Patel

In the tapestry of life, sometimes we find ourselves unraveling in unfamiliar landscapes, struggling to weave our threads into the fabric of a new reality. 

Such was my journey from the sun-kissed landscapes of South Africa to the vibrant mosaic of India. Little did I anticipate the challenges that awaited me, nor could I fathom the transformative power of a helping hand that would guide me through the labyrinth of adjustment.

For 15 years, I basked in the beauty of South Africa, surrounded by cherished friends, a picturesque home, and what felt like a perfect life. Embracing my Indian and South African roots, I cherished the varied landscapes of my homeland. But then, everything changed. At just 15, my family decided to move to India for good, fearing the looming threat of crime. In an instant, my world crumbled, and the comforts of home slipped away into the past.

The first few weeks in India felt like navigating an intricate maze, each twist and turn posing a new challenge. As the novelty of the bustling streets of Ahmedabad replaced the familiarity of my South African hometown, I found myself grappling with the stark differences in culture, language, and lifestyle. The warmth of the people was palpable, but I felt like a stranger in a foreign land, a sense of homesickness gnawing at the edges of my consciousness.

The abrupt shift in school curriculums and syllabi proved to be a formidable challenge. From being a top achiever in South Africa, I found myself barely managing to just pass exams. My once vibrant and sociable persona now morphed into someone uptight and easily irritated. The language barrier added another layer of difficulty, as my South African accent became a source of amusement for some, further isolating me in this new world.

Amid the chaos, a glimmer of hope appeared in the form of a friend at school, Pooja. She extended her guidance with a warmth that transcended words. She was not just a classmate but a confidante who understood the struggles I faced. One day, she took me on my first metro ride, patiently explaining the intricacies of the system and alleviating my fears of getting lost in the labyrinthine stations. The rhythmic clatter of the train became a comforting melody, a soundtrack to my newfound sense of belonging.

In the world of chemistry jargon, she became my translator and motivator. Even though she was not an expert, her unwavering encouragement and refusal to let me give up hope transformed the daunting equations into solvable puzzles. Her guidance was a lifeline, pulling me out of an academic abyss and restoring a sense of competence and understanding.

Pooja became more than just a guide; she became the architect of my revival. She helped me rediscover the person I once was – outgoing, responsible, and unafraid of the unknown. Her hands held mine, not just metaphorically, but literally, as she guided me across the streets of Ahmedabad, showing me the art of hailing fair-priced rickshaw rides instead of overpriced Ubers.

Her impact went beyond the practicalities of daily life. She taught me the ways of India with patience and understanding, sharing the cultural complexities that transformed the unfamiliar into the familiar. Through her eyes, I saw the beauty in the chaos, the richness in diversity, and the warmth in the hearts of the people around me.

In the mosaic of our friendship, I found not only a guide but a true companion who helped me navigate the labyrinth of change. Her help became a bridge between the person I was and the person I needed to become in this new chapter of my life. The laughter we shared, the challenges we conquered, and the moments of vulnerability we embraced all wove together into a narrative of resilience, friendship, and personal growth.

As I look back on the chapters of my journey, the invaluable lesson resonates – the importance of having a friend to lean on and, in turn, being one whenever possible. The significance of mutual support became evident, a realization that the strength of a community lies in the collective embrace of its members. In the dance of life, we are not solo performers but part of a grand ensemble where each kind act contributes to the harmony of existence.

With a heart full of gratitude and a spirit rekindled, I recall the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, "The only way to have a friend is to be one." In the symphony of life, the melody of friendship and the selfless acts that accompany it are the notes that elevate our day-to-day living, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Pooja played the lead melody, orchestrating a harmonious blend of friendship, guidance, and compassion that echoed through the corridors of my heart.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Henvi Patel shares how a new friend helped her adjust to a new home.

Rediscovering Home in India

Max Green

In 2023 I experienced a gigantic change that millions of 10- and 11-year-olds face: transitioning from elementary school to middle school.

Before starting middle school, I was really excited and slightly nervous; one of my best friends from elementary school was also going to the school, and I was eager to meet new people and make new friends. However, when we finally got our classes I realized I did not know anybody who was in my class, which made me more nervous. Overall I was mostly excited and ready for middle school.

When I was nearing the end of fifth grade in June, the staff of MS 447 organized an orientation for the soon-to-be-sixth graders. I can guarantee that most of the kids in sixth grade would say that it was fun. I completely agree. We met new people, made some friends, and did an icebreaker in a stress-free situation. There are a few kids I met there who I still talk to. Also, the principal taught us a little bit about MS 447 and what makes it unique from other schools. I really appreciate that the staff at my school worked as hard as they did to make us feel more comfortable.

On the first two days of middle school the teachers organized welcome days, a time when students could talk and socialize, make new friends, meet some teachers, and of course learn how to get around the school. Although a few people thought that the welcome days were boring, I thought they were pretty fun, definitely better than real schoolwork. The last one was extremely important, because after we introduced ourselves to each other we had to find our way around the building and that did not end well. A few other kids and I had to find the eighth grade Spanish classroom to talk about a book we were forced to read over the summer. Sadly, we didn’t have directions and it took us about 20 minutes walking around the building until we finally found the place. It was fun though, I met new people on my way there. Inconveniently, we only had a tour of our building after we got lost. I thought it was very considerate for our teachers to give us a couple of days to ease into sixth grade. I got a tour of the building, but more importantly I met new people and made new friends.

They also reinstated a tradition from before COVID-19 and in November took our grade to Camp Bernie, which is a camp all the way over in New Jersey. It was a really great experience for me and many other kids who went. We were put into cabins with people from other classes, many of whom I didn’t know. We were also put into different groups for meals and activities. I participated in a karaoke night, zip line, climbing obstacle, tie-dye, basketball, team building, and just hanging out. At Camp Bernie, I made many friends and became better friends with people I already knew. I really appreciated that the staff took the time to do a fundraiser and organize an overnight trip just to help us make friends. My experience at Camp Bernie definitely made the transition from elementary school to middle school more smooth.

I really respect that the administration created so many opportunities to help us fit in and get into the groove of our new school. Although I would have been fine, many kids might have struggled with switching to a new school, a new schedule, and new classes. So everything the teachers did was definitely very thoughtful. From organizing an orientation with all sixth graders, to taking us on a trip to Camp Bernie, to hosting welcome days where we got to know our teachers, building, and classmates, the staff at my school helped make my transition to middle school more fun and stress free.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Max Green shares how teachers and mentors helped him navigate a major change in his life.

The Strange Change of the School Exchange

Crisis & Change

Jack Green

What do you associate with the word “help”? 

Many people associate this word solely with doing something nice for others. They’re not wrong; however, helping others very often means helping yourself, too. Helping others can lead to (among other things) finding new interests or talents and getting to know yourself better. I once helped somebody else while also receiving help, and this enabled us both to find deeper meaning in the values of education.

Every summer for the past three years, my brother and I have been going to a sleepaway camp called Camp Wawa Segowea. It is an outdoorsy camp in Massachusetts, surrounded by lots of wildlife. There are only about 80 campers, so everyone knows each other, and this contributes to a strong sense of community in the camp. This year, camp was even better than before, because we had the largest number of international counselors since 2010. One of these people was my cabin counselor, Dener. 

Dener is a social entrepreneur (“a person who establishes an enterprise with the aim of solving social problems or effecting social change,” according to Oxford Languages) from Brazil. He came to the US to visit famous places and tourist attractions and to see what ideas he could take back to his hometown in Brazil. As a camp counselor, Dener was phenomenal. He was extremely kind, personable, and smart. He was always open to teaching me something, such as his past experiences playing soccer with the professional player Neymar. He also told me about his job in Brazil. As a social entrepreneur, Dener is deeply involved in trying to fix social issues. One issue Dener cares about is improving his hometown in any way he can. 

Along with telling me about his life, he also taught me hands-on things like how to make a kite, and he was open to learning new things. He has been to many different countries and learned many different languages. I was able to teach him precise elements of the English language, such as different pronouns. In my cabin there was somebody who was transgender, and Dener, not quite understanding the concept of they/them pronouns, felt comfortable coming to me and asking me about it. 

Dener was equally eager to help campers and participate in their games. One of these games, knockout, required shooting a basketball. Although Dener is a very athletic person, his areas of expertise lie in soccer and surfing. Dener, seeing that basketball was a sport I had some experience with, asked me to help him shoot more accurately. I taught him some tips about foot placement and the guide hand, and he improved quickly. 

I was also able to teach him some more unconventional skills, including how to get a bird out of the cabin. When my family and I went on a vacation, a bird repeatedly found its way into our house, so I had some experience with using brooms to shepherd them out. All in all, no matter the subject or its importance, Dener’s eagerness to learn made it easy to teach him new skills, and he was as good a teacher as he was a student.

As we got to know each other, we became great friends. We found we had many things in common, such as skateboarding and a love of traveling. Dener would occasionally tell me about some of the different countries that he has been to. Along with common interests such as these, Dener and I told each other about the culture in our countries, even small things, including why wearing a Memphis Grizzlies cap with an L.A. Lakers jersey might seem strange and abnormal to some people. On the last day of camp, when I had to go home, Dener’s eyes were watering and I felt incredibly sad, too. He even gave me a kite he made with a message on it as a parting gift, and we exchanged phone numbers.

One important thing that friends do for one another is help each other out. We would always help each other if we could. One way he helped was to get me ice for my knees because of my Osgood-Schlatter disease. We were also able to help each other in deeper ways. Even in our everyday camp routines we helped each other find meaning in one of the most vital aspects of life: learning.

Of course we understood the benefits of learning to some degree. We both knew that education was extremely important to leading a prosperous life, and without it, one’s life can be extremely difficult. Although we understood this, what we didn’t understand was just how much one person can teach another, regardless of age or social status. Dener taught me so much about Brazil and how he grew up. I learned that despite his current success and experiences, Dener had grown up without a lot of money. When he talked about his neighborhood in Brazil, he would talk about how the houses were shared and everyone was pretty poor. Additionally, he wanted to create tourist attractions in his neighborhood to generate some more money for the community. Once, when I asked him about his life in Brazil and what sports he watched, he told me about how his home didn’t have a TV and was shared with another family. 

I was surprised and interested by the differences in our lives. Although I understood that of course living in different countries would mean having different lifestyles, I was shocked that what would be considered so strange here might be the norm there. Even in small cheap apartments in the US, people still live by themselves and usually have TV’s, so I hadn’t given much thought to other lifestyles. This taught me the meaning and importance of asking people questions no matter their age or social status, even if you believe you already know the answer. I was also able to teach Dener this lesson when he asked me about New York City and other famous US cities. He was interested in learning about the best aspects of these cities so he could take them back to his hometown in Brazil. He would ask me about my favorite places, what made these cities tourist attractions, and why certain places were different from others. I believe he realized that despite my younger age, there was meaning in asking me questions and I could help him achieve his goals, even in little ways.

Although I haven’t seen Dener since camp, our friendship continues to impact me. I have learned so much from him, from things about his country to the meaning of learning. When someone is trying to teach me something, especially if it isn’t the most  thought-provoking topic, I might have tuned out in the past. But now, I think of Dener and I realize that I may find information that is interesting or important, even if the lecture might seem a little boring. I would encourage everyone to look out for others everywhere, because the most meaningful relationships can be found in unexpected places. Everyone has something to teach and everyone has something that they can learn. Always remember, information can come from even the most unexpected sources, like a camp counselor.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Jack Green reflects on a relationship that taught him the value of helping others. 

Helping People Find Meaning

Vincent Chang

If I squinted hard enough, I might have been able to catch a glimpse of the spire of Christ-Church jutting out at the edge of the sky, appearing even sharper in the winter rain. The air was cold, my stomach rumbled, and I dreamt of bed and breakfast at home. Then the church bells struck seven in the distance, and I heard the jingle of lock and key behind me. I picked up my bags and crossed the threshold of the dreary, brooding gloom into the warm, glowing corridors of the Uniting Prahran Relief Centre.

The initiative was organized by my school’s Values in Action Committee, but volunteers were difficult to find. Indeed, it seemed like few students wanted to sacrifice their own morning breakfasts for philanthropic work in the unforgiving cold. Yet the winter season can be particularly harsh for those who are homeless or struggling to make ends meet. As the temperatures drop and the Melbourne days become shorter, the challenges of finding warm shelter and a hot meal become even more daunting. I have served at Uniting Prahran since the COVID pandemic, when the region was hit the hardest by economic recession and many individuals at the precipice were forced to move their lives onto the streets. Sometimes the thermostat plummets to zero and I sit at my desk, mildly annoyed at the frigidity of the air outside. What I failed to fathom then was how the nights of many less fortunate would be thrown to the mercy of the elements without even a warm meal to look forward to.

My first time at the Winter Breakfast struck a chord deep within my mind. I was immediately delegated to serve meals to the guests. With no experience in this task, I did not know what to anticipate, and rehearsed again and again what I would say. But as our first guests arrived, I felt an overwhelming sense of compassion and humanity that overrode any anxiety toward the unknown. Watching the people whom I served clutch their steaming bowls of gruel, I grew to realize just how important and meaningful this initiative really was.

We directly engaged with the people we served: holding conversations, telling jokes, and sharing our stories. The conversations and interactions I had with the guests at the morning breakfast were eye-opening. Each person had a unique story and journey, and taking the time to listen and understand their perspectives was both humbling and enlightening. I met families struggling to make ends meet, the recently hospitalized facing difficult transitions, and elderly people living on fixed incomes.

It's easy to make assumptions about homelessness or poverty, but this experience has shown me that there is no one-size-fits-all narrative. People end up in difficult circumstances for a variety of reasons, and showing respect and understanding nuance can make a world of difference in their lives.

One man whom I served once worked as part of a party-planning business, which flourished before the pandemic. But when COVID hit and this business collapsed, he was not able to make a recovery. No longer able to pay the rent and faced with mounting debt, he was evicted to live in his car. Another woman was working paycheck-to-paycheck as she sought treatment for a severe illness, and was similarly rendered helpless by a sudden increase in rent. She was a frequent guest there. The breakfast hall was lively, and sometimes strangers sat together to share a conversation after their meals. Those who knew each other already exchanged jokes and updates on their situations. And although times were still difficult, everybody held a burning hope for the future that is difficult to describe.

The tasks I've undertaken at the morning breakfast have varied, from food preparation and serving to cleaning up. These seemingly mundane tasks take on a new significance when you realize the impact they have on someone's day. While I had ignored them before, now I immediately recognized the wholesome smell of freshly baked potatoes, or the sounds of bacon crackling in the kitchen. I was granted a new perspective toward these ordinary things — I was reliving my life in a way that I had never anticipated before.

I bonded with the team of dedicated volunteers, who were people from all backgrounds and walks of life, united by a common purpose — to alleviate hunger and provide warmth in one of the most troubled suburbs of this city. This sense of collective responsibility transcends age and experience, and instills a profound sense of hope into all involved.

Soon I was involved in awareness campaigns within the school, fundraising for Uniting Prahran in my homegroup and encouraging my mates to give it a shot. Because now I had seen the system of philanthropy that connected individuals like me to the larger initiative: this was the same system that linked small restaurants and grocers to kitchens like the ones I am part of, or schools to the volunteering opportunities offered in this community. At the same time, I found myself reflecting on many of the things I take for granted — from that bowl of hot noodle soup that mom makes in the morning, to my comfy bed at night. A hot brekkie isn’t something I attributed much significance to, but I also couldn’t perceive just how much it affected me, and how lucky I was. With more volunteering experience, I also found myself listening more and more, rather than doing most of the talking in my daily conversations. I saw how vulnerability could be counteracted through conversation and sharing stories, some of which are deeply personal. Simply “being there” for someone during a difficult time can be the greatest thing ever, and listening is the first step.

I continue to wait at the crossroads on winter mornings, counting cars and waiting for the breakfast to open. I am reminded that meaningful initiatives like these are not just about giving; they are about receiving the immeasurable gifts of empathy, understanding, and the knowledge that we can bring hope through little things like bacon and eggs.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Vincent Chang recalls the profound impact of volunteering to serve breakfast to those facing homelessness.

Chilly Mornings, Warm Souls: Stories from the Prahran Winter Breakfast

Mahrukh Khurshid

I am no stranger to feeling lost, to lacking purpose, an identity. I am cynical — that much I know. 

I am also an existentialist, just like my friend the French novelist and playwright Jean Genet. I met him standing at the cusp of my internal revolution, looking out at the field of discovery spread ahead of me. I saw among the famous figures and places an ethereal mist. I would later become intimately acquainted with it, and identify it as my political consciousness. At that moment I only registered how incandescent it looked, and how surprisingly familiar.

Over the course of the next few months, I would go for long walks with my political consciousness. (I give it no other name simply because it has no need for another name: its quintessential grandness is already captured in the sibilance on the last three syllables, the possession in the first, all centered around the truth at the core of the name. Calling it something else, something artificial and contrived like Rosalind Montmorency, would simply take away from its beautiful simplicity.) With it, I would think about the state of the world and what needed to be done to better it. I began to develop a mindset geared toward evaluating inequalities in terms of numbers, policies, and solutions. Over time, I came to one indisputable conclusion: capitalism had to be replaced. With it, it would be impossible to make any headway, swimming against the current of a self-reinforcing system.

What else, then? What should replace it? The answer lay in an idea I had formed in my early childhood: wealth had to be redistributed, the world wiped clean and given a fresh start, this time with policy-followers making policies instead of the other way around. Once I grew older, I found out that this imagined utopia existed outside of my own head, much to my disbelief, and it had a name: socialism. Accompanied by my political consciousness, I delved deeper into the world of political ideology to find an even more refined version of socialism: anarcho-syndicalism (defined by Britannica to be “an [anarchist] movement that advocates direct action by the working class to abolish the capitalist order, including the state, and to establish in its place a social order based on workers organized in production units.”)

This discovery gave me direction: a clear course of study and career to pursue in the years that will follow. I found meaning in a concrete school of thought, formed by others and adopted by myself, and hence also found community. The figures I had seen from afar in the field of discovery were reintroduced to me, nearer and more distinct without the mist distorting their features. I met revolutionaries, theorists, leaders, renegades, and more, all the while aspiring more and more to be like them: to harness courage and spirit and then unleash it on the world, leaving it better than it was before.

In my political consciousness I found myself, and my will to help other people.

I found reflections of these figures in my closest friends. Some were socialist, some were not. But all of them had depths of integrity and compassion within them. One of my most treasured memories is that of hosting the inaugural session of an inter-school book club I co-founded. We delved into thought-provoking literature together, discussing Crime and Punishment, On Anarchism, Feminism Is for Everybody, and endless others. It was a pleasant surprise, to see clearly, as if for the first time, my friends’ futures as compassionate, adept leaders spread out before them. They inspire me to continue caring.

It is now more evident to me than it ever has been before that I live for others. In today’s society, this is often seen as restricting and self-sacrificing, but I am at peace with my moral philosophy. The fact of the matter is that I don’t know any other way to live. My own identity is not stifled or lessened by others’; rather, it flourishes by working for other people. Bettering someone’s living conditions or even simply uplifting their spirits comes instinctively to me even when mine have descended out of reach. It is easier to concentrate my energies on listening to and empathizing with a friend than it is to tackle my own problems, and this also helps me re-center and cool down.

It has also gotten easier to stay calm and quietly determined after I met my political consciousness. I realize now I will never be alone as I was before, as I can access many people in my mind. My field of discovery, where figures stand clear as day and resolute as stone, is now interposed with the faces of my friends, ever-equitable and ever-caring. Most of the people I admire are collected in one place, serving as the ultimate inspiration for me to find meaning by giving back to the world. It seems fitting that this altruism has led to even my mind giving itself away, hosting others in it, granting each one a place.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Mahrukh Khursid shares how she found meaning, empathy, and altruism by engaging with political ideas.

Confessions of a Reluctant Optimist

Raquel Fernandez Alvarado

In a world that often feels like everything moves so fast, finding meaning can be a challenge. 

We have busy lives and it’s easy to forget the power of lending a helping hand. Sometimes, a small act of kindness can make a big difference. I learned this through a special experience that showed me the true meaning of giving. 

Last summer, I decided to join a club whose purpose was to help elderly people in our town. Many of them lived alone and needed assistance with everyday tasks such as cleaning their houses, doing the shopping for the week, or even taking a shower. I thought it would be a great opportunity to help our citizens of the town and also it would be a great experience to learn something different. 

On my first visit, I met Mrs. Emily Jones, a sweet elderly lady with a warm smile and bright eyes. She welcomed me into her home, and we sat down for a relaxed conversation without expectations. While she was speaking, I learned about aspects of her life, like the many different experiences she had overcome and the challenges she faced day after day. 

One thing that surprised me was her passionate love of gardening and knowledge of rare facts about plants. Her garden was filled with vibrant flowers of as many colors as you can imagine, and the grass was perfectly cut. However, due to her limitations, the bushes that were at a certain height were in bad condition, because she couldn’t get to them. I thought it would be an opportunity to make a big difference in her life. 

Over the next few weeks, I visited Mrs. Emily Jones regularly. We spent our time taking care of her garden, and I could see how her life was changing. Little by little her eyes started to shine as she watched her garden come back to life, and while I was cutting the damaged plants, she told me stories of the different types of flowers she had grown over the years. I was very entertained and I started to like spending time with her. 

I discovered a lot of things about her life. For instance, she told me what she was like when she was my age, describing herself as a cheerful and curious girl. Also, she explained how her hobby of gardening started when she was only five years old and she planted a little seed in a bottle and turned it into a big plant. However, her family didn’t have too many resources, so she couldn’t have a garden at her house back then. 

Through this experience, I realized the true impact we can have on someone’s life through simple acts of kindness. It wasn’t just about gardening, it was about being there for Mrs. Emily Jones, offering support, and sharing our days. I saw firsthand how a small act could bring so much meaning to someone else’s life. 

Emily Jones, offering support, and sharing our days. I saw firsthand how a small act could bring so much meaning to someone else’s life. 

As the days went by, I noticed a change in Mrs. Emily. She seemed happier, more lively and even a bit more energetic. It was clear that our time together had a positive impact on her health. And in turn, it had a very great impact on me. 

I learned the importance of empathy and understanding. This work with the elderly is not just about helping with physical tasks, it’s about being present, listening and spending your time with others to show you care about them. It’s about recognizing the value that comes with age and appreciating the stories and experiences that our elderly people have to share with us. 

I also gained and discovered an appreciation for the simple pleasures in life. Watching the flowers grow and, most importantly for me, seeing Mrs. Emily Jones’s face light up, brought me a sense of fulfillment and happiness that I hadn’t expected before. It taught me that true meaning can be found in the small everyday moments we share with others. 

As I reflect on this experience, I am reminded of the importance of helping those in need, especially our elderly neighbors who may feel lonely and without purpose in life. A small act of kindness, whether it’s helping with work, spending time together, or simply offering a listening ear, can make a world of difference. 

So I encourage you to take a moment to consider how you can make a positive impact in the lives of others, especially our elderly community members. It doesn’t have to be a big gesture, any act you do to help others will be perfect and the person will appreciate it, because you can bring meaning and joy to someone’s day with any type of help. 

In the end, when we are ready to lend a hand, we realize how important it is. It affects both the person helping and the one receiving help. This makes us part of a big story of kindness, helping, and connecting with others. It makes our lives and the lives of others better.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Raquel Fernandez Alvarado finds profound meaning in the simple act of helping an elderly neighbor.

A Lesson of Kindness

Finding Meaning

Jewel Yang

At one of the lowest points of my life, I felt like I was completely hopeless. 

Help from my friends was the only thing that saved me during those dark times, and it made me realize the importance of helping others. Helping someone may have a huge impact on the person that's hurt, but help is not just about carrying someone when they injure their leg. Help is way more than that. You can also help people emotionally. Even by comforting them, you are doing something to support them. Sometimes all you need is a pair of helping hands. Helping people, even if it’s unintentional, can be the most life-changing thing to someone, and you might not even know that they needed it. A sentence or few can change their whole perspective. You never know what someone is going through or what is happening in their lives. 

My best friends got me through the worst nine months of my life. It started in January and ended in October of 2022. A “friend” of mine (well, I thought he was a friend) started rumors about me. The rumors were spread by texting and in school. They were not very nice. I told the person to stop spreading false accusations about me at least five times, and every time he continued. I didn’t know what to do. Nothing could stop him. As time went on, more and more people started believing the rumors. Seven months flew by, and everyone was giving me glares and weird looks. I started to feel like I had lost most of my friends. Everyone became the rumor-maker's friend, except for three of my friends. These friends were reassuring me that things were going to get better every single day. I don’t know what I would have done without them. That is how powerful words can be. Words can make people feel comforted, and I don't think my friends know how much their support helped me through the entire situation. 

At the start of September, when I was about to report all of this to school, I asked my friend, whom I had known for nine years, if she could be my witness, because she was also there when we heard the boy spreading rumors. She said, “No, I am not on anyone’s side.” That hurt me the same way as if a car had run over me. What she said made me lose all hope. It felt like nine years of friendship was basically nothing to her. Thankfully, there was another person who was also there and heard the rumors. That person actually volunteered to be my witness without my asking. I was shocked. I had only known that person for two months. Someone I knew for literally two months wanted to be my witness and someone I had known for nine years didn’t want to be my witness. How funny is that? That proves that there are always nice people, but they might not be who you expect. 

When I finally told the school about all the rumors that were being spread about me, the Prefect of Discipline ended up calling everyone involved in the rumor-spreading into his office. The teacher asked all of us our sides of the story. The rumor-maker started denying all the rumors he had spread. All his friends also denied everything. Then, the teacher asked the two people that were standing next to me if it was true that we heard the boy spreading rumors. One of them was the person I have known for nine years. The other was the person I have known for two months. Their answers to the question were completely different. My “friend” of nine years said nothing, instead she started crying, but the person who I had known for two months spoke the truth, word for word. 

After their responses, the Prefect of Discipline told everyone in the room to leave, and I stayed because he had to talk to me. He said he knew who was lying and who was not. He asked me why I had waited so long to let the school know about this situation. I told him it was because I was scared. He told me to never be afraid to speak up, and since then, I have learned to stand up for myself. 

Now that it has been a few months, when I think back, I actually would like to thank the rumor-maker for doing what he did, because he did me a favor. If it wasn’t for what has happened, I wouldn’t have learned so much about humanity. Now, whenever I meet someone new, I can tell whether to trust that person or not. It may seem like a bad experience, but if you think positively, it wasn’t so bad after all. There is always a lesson to every story. From this story I learned that it is rare to have real friends, so cherish them when you know you have found them. Real friends will have your back no matter what. Fake friends come and go. 

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Jewel Yang explains how her friends supported her during a difficult experience with bullying.

Rumors, Rumors, Rumors

Now and Then

Mahnoor Ali Pervaiz


Courage is standing at the platform alone, knowing the train you got off has departed and the next one may never come. 

Courage is closing the door without any certainty of where you will sleep at night; it is taking a step forward even when you know there only is a cliff ahead. It is an internal battle, a war against yourself: ego versus soul.

To me, courage is not necessarily something grand. Although, jumping out of an airplane 20,000 feet high up in the sky to experience a rush of adrenaline may be considered brave, it is not a direct example of courage. For example, if you have a fear of heights, conquering your fear is courageous, not the act you perform to do it. Pushing yourself beyond your limits, testing yourself, and being willing to give everything up for momentary happiness: that is courage. Doing everything you can in the moment to avoid having any regrets in the future. Putting your morals first in a world where everyone wants to outrun each other. Being kind. 

This is why sharing a single account of a time I’ve been courageous is difficult. Courage is subjective. It isn’t a definitive act, and it cannot be defined or shown. It is found within at a time when all hope is lost. When there is no light at the end of the tunnel, when moving forward is no longer an option, courage is turning around and going back to square one, re-evaluating every move you made to ensure you don’t make the same mistake again. 

I remember being in elementary school, just seven years old, and I lacked the confidence to speak up against someone I knew was a bully. For me, the fear of becoming another one of her victims stood in the way of justice. My hesitation could have been because I had already been bullied two years prior, and I had cried myself to sleep every night. The thought of having to go through that again made my spine shiver. I had suffered enough, and that was reason enough for me to want to protect myself first. However, the guilt that came with doing nothing, even at age seven, empowered me to take a stand for someone suffering the same way I had years before. Helping my class community at that young age took courage beyond measure. It not only pushed me to face my fear of going back into the state of anxiety that came with being bullied, but also to possibly risk not being heard or believed. It was a battle against myself to put someone else before me, because staying quiet in the face of adversity is easy but it takes strength to risk it all only to possibly gain nothing back in return. 

Fortunately, when I told the figure of authority in our classroom what had been going on, she took swift action to address the situation. After that, there were regular ‘anti-bullying’ seminars conducted with all grades and any other cases were dealt with in a similar way.

In that situation, the example of courage is not me going and speaking to my teacher, but rather, it is the immense vigor it took for me to let go of the need to protect myself in case things went south. It was the willingness, even at a young age, to let go of my own future happiness to ensure my suffering classmate never shed another tear again. Courage can better a whole community, regardless of how small or large it may be. The act itself might be invisible, but it can go a long way in ensuring others do not suffer the same way you have.

Courage is getting off the train of silence in the face of disaster and standing still for as long as it takes to make a difference. It is letting time pass and holding yourself accountable to bring change, regardless of how small it may be. 

However, courage is also personal. Courage is difficult to talk about because often the story behind it entails great personal trauma; it includes feelings of distress, worry, and even shame. Telling tales of courage is easy when they are not your own story, because speaking of your own experiences takes even more courage. It forces you to travel back into a web of your own design, and makes you experience everything again: all the hurt, the loneliness, the aching. 

Courage is doing something bigger than you, even if it doesn’t seem like it. 

To conclude, courage does not always have to serve a purpose. It does not always have to help someone else. Sometimes, it can just be to help yourself. When the battle against your ego becomes too tough, courage is the willingness to lose everything to be happy and let your higher-self win. Courage is closing the door on the twenty-first century need to succeed and feeling content standing in the darkness with a candle.


In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Mahnoor Ali Pervaiz shares how acts of courage can stem from moments in everyday life.

Moving Towards a Cliff

Dhruvika Parikh


Whenever we hear the word courage, the first thing that comes to mind are the martyrs who gave up their lives for their countries, or the soldiers fighting at the border. 

But have we truly paused and reflected to ask ourselves: what does courage mean outside of this definition? Courage doesn’t need to mean speaking against someone or facing your fears, rather, courage can be as simple as owning up to yourself and learning how to problem-solve in a difficult situation.

Courage is something that everyone has access to, but very few utilize it to its optimum potential. It helps you realize the abilities you possess, and helps you step out of your comfort zone. I realized this quite recently.

My first experience with inspirational courage was a profound journey. In The Riverside School, where I learn about the world and myself, Grade Six got a Client Project that would help us learn field skills and professionalism. Our class was fortunate to have our Client Project alongside the Citizenship Program with the Prabhat Education Foundation, which is an NGO with the vision to have all children and adults with disabilities lead a dignified life in society.

With the need for more inclusivity in mind, our grade partnered up with Prabhat to enhance our perspective. We hosted the founder of Prabhat at our school and asked questions about the center. The founder spoke about the pre-vocational skills they teach that are required to get a job that provides food, shelter, protection and happiness for families. At the time, their main focus was to teach the Prabhat youth how to cook and serve at a café or restaurant.

The first thought that came to our minds was: how can we add to this legacy already created by the Prabhat youth? The client shared his needs with us and we became excited to lend a hand to this cause. We thought that we would be the change makers, without realizing how it would change us.

Before designing a café for our Prahat youth buddies, we wanted to interact so we could understand how it felt to be in their shoes, which would broaden our chances of elevating one another.

Our first interaction was not easy, and was rather awkward. Neither group wanted to break the ice first, and all of us were quite taken aback by the sudden meeting. Even though some said they were okay, most of us felt quite uncomfortable.

When it was time to go home, we did a reflection on our first interaction, and a lot of us didn’t say our honest thoughts. We concluded that to understand their perspective we would need to step into their shoes to have an experience where we could understand and empathize with their various special needs.

Our Client Project took seven months to complete, and we learned a lot in the process. To culminate this program, we wanted to involve our parents to engage with our buddies. We invited them to join in several activities planned for the parents and buddies. Observing our parents as they got to know the buddies reminded us of ourselves in our first interaction—nervous, scared, clueless, and frozen.

It was my duty to energize the two parties. Since it was the festival of Holi, we enjoyed smearing colors on everyone, and we were able to close our year with this special memory. Words are too limited to describe the feeling and ambience of this moment. It was something to be treasured in our box of memories forever. The joy we felt with each other was more important than all the other emotions and thoughts we had. There was no fatigue, sadness, or melancholy, just epiphany and the euphoria of togetherness. 

But how is this courage? Isn’t the dictionary definition of courage the ability to control fear in a situation that may be dangerous, or is it about stepping out of your comfort zone?

The four types of courage are: intellectual, moral, disciplined and empathetic. So the fact that our buddies, parents, and teachers did things out of their comfort zone to support us and push us was courageous. More than that, the courage that our Prabhat buddies show on a daily basis to fight against society and make names for themselves is a struggle. But their courage is a never-ending waterfall and we got a spring of courage from them.

My favorite quote about courage is by Ryan Holiday: “Courage calls each of us differently, at different times, in different forms. But in every case it is, as they say, coming from inside the house.” So let life throw its obstacles and flow its way, just continue sailing through it on your boat of courage.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Dhruvika Parikh shares her discoveries of different kinds of courage.

Courage Can Change Us

Courage

Ayza Afridi

Nazia, a 20-year-old mother of two is preparing a meal for her family when she collapses in the oppressive heat that is par for the course in her hometown. Having the enviable status of experiencing 122 degrees Fahrenheit over the past four successive summers, Jacobabad residents share an inside joke “when we go to hell, we shall take blankets.” Today, Jacobabad has exceeded 123.8 degrees Fahrenheit and has become one of the hottest inhabited places on planet Earth. Sadly, for Nazia, the city’s primary health care is no match for her condition, and she succumbs to the heat while lying on a make-shift stretcher in the partial shade of a poorly funded women’s community health center, her six-month-old daughter wailing next to her while her husband Ali looks on helplessly.

A day later, in a parallel world, I was dragged out of bed during a perfectly good Sunday morning sleep for a beach clean-up by a straw hat donned mom. As a well-known local crusader, she has been instrumental in developing my interest in the environment. We have regularly teamed up for neighborhood garbage collection drives and I have watched her participate in city council on a myriad of civic issues. An avid reader of Rachel Carson, little did I know how directly the doomsday prophecy of climate change was about to unfold in front of me.

Most pregnant women in Jacobabad describe their lives as akin to being on “Death Row.” Pregnant or not, they spend the better part of the day in the fields with their young ones playing under make-shift blanket shade. The evening shade brings a semblance of relief as they gather on their mud roofs to catch whatever breeze nature may provide. 

Since the beginning of March, an unprecedented heat wave has gripped India and Pakistan, affecting more than a billion people on the subcontinent. Jacobabad has been among the worst hit, experiencing temperatures in excess of 100 degrees Fahrenheit for 51 straight days, pushing the limits of human survivability. Humidity conspires with the heat to make living conditions more oppressive. 

Perversely, climate change has recently dealt Jacobabad a different mortal blow.  In August 2022 (a mere three months after Nazia’s heat-induced death), Jacobabad was also engulfed by Pakistan’s super flood as melting glaciers combined with abnormal rains caused swollen rivers to burst their banks and enter the baking cities of Sindh. Jacobabad, a city compared to a human furnace in May, is now modern-day Atlantis with over 100 residents drowning, including 40 children. Over 500 people were dead from water borne diseases in the first 30 days since impact. Death Row turned into swift execution.

Ali is a prime example of thousands of people with similar heart-wrenching stories. He was spared the agony of seeing his home crumble under the weight of the mighty River Indus, and shortly after Nazia’s death, he left his children with his sister to travel 340 km south to Karachi in search of work. 

Karachi, a throbbing metropolis of over 25 million is the economic nerve center of Pakistan; a melting pot for all to try their luck at striking gold. With no education or formal skills other than tending to livestock, Ali soon found himself as part of a small-time motor-bike theft gang. When the floods arrived, an influx of climate refugees entered the city, providing a fillip to the criminal activities already prevalent. Ali’s gang expanded to snatching cellular phones and wallets from commuters stuck in potholes left by the rains on Karachi’s dilapidated infrastructure. 

While my mother introduced me to the importance of educating the educated about civic responsibility, my father has shown me the value of giving back to the community. He serves on the Board of Karachi’s Kidney Center Hospital (TKCI), providing free care to those that need it. Over dinner on the same fateful weekend of May 14th , 2022, he had excitedly shared the news of hiring a bright young professional to head the HR function of TKCI.

Meanwhile, given his growing prowess, Ali was awarded a gun to target the more affluent cars. On September 1, 2022, as Karachi too was being lashed by mighty monsoon rains, Ali received news that his younger son had died of complications from Dengue fever in water ravaged Jacobabad. Raging against nature, and humanity (or the lack of it), Ali came across a young family sitting in their car outside a popular ice cream parlor in the city.

Ali, with a careless finger on the trigger, rapped on the window and demanded the usual cellular phones. The young man (yes, the same young man recently appointed by my father to work at TKCI) in the driver’s seat had a 6-year-old son in the back and a one-year-old infant lying in the lap of his mother in the front seat. Ali was reminded of his family that he lost, and unable to control his demons, or perhaps triggered by an untimely rumble of thunder, the gun went off. 

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Ayza Afridi shares how her community came together to fight climate change.

Helping Hands

winter 2024 • Music and Art

fall 2024 • The School Experience

summer 2024 • AI and the Future of Knowledge

spring 2024 • Crisis & Change

winter 2023 • Finding Meaning

fall 2023 • Now and Then

summer 2023 • Courage

spring 2023 • Violence and Healing

winter 2022 • Dreams and Desires

fall 2022 • Citizenship

summer 2022 • Who Am I?

spring 2022 • Time and Space

winter 2021 • Love

fall 2021 • The Media That Raised Us

summer 2021 • Connection and Isolation

spring 2021 • Life and Death

winter 2020 • Silence

fall 2020 • Strength and Influence

summer 2020 • Fun and Creativity

spring 2020 • Nature

winter 2019 • Fulfillment

fall 2019 • Education

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