Will Hodgkinson

It all ended that bitter December day at Wounded Knee,
where the wind perpetually blew across the great frozen expanse of prairie, barren and remorseless. Eddies of snow propelled by the frigid current.

The sky, a savage blue, arcs high above, the sun’s glare merciless. The camp lies huddled, cowering against the scouring gale. The tribes people stand, frightened and cowed by the circling solders, rifles raised, eyes filled with feral hate.

The great steel snouts of cannons press forward expectantly, jackals ready for the hunt. An argument, a swift scuffle.

Then comes the sound, the awful toll of doom. The gunshot rises into the frosted air then rolls across the snow-draped plain.

A moment a terrible stillness descends. Then a rabid snarl issues from the mouth of an officer and the rifles of the solders roar to life, their first victims falling in a plume of crimson.

The tribe scatters, galloping away like frightened animals, desperate to escape the slaughterhouse. The solders fire on then without care, without compassion for these desperate human beings.

The crack of the rifles and the concussive crash of the cannons fills the air as the people crumple beneath the storm of hot lead, scattering in the barren white valley.

A few canter wildly to and fro, a useless attempt to escape the massed ranks of cavalrymen closing in, their guns blazing as they cut down the survivors. Then, abruptly a grisly vacant silence descends.

The solders leave in a procession, their shouts of triumph pursuing them on the wind. The men, women and children they have slaughtered lie strewn on the earth, their blood soiling the ermine blanket on top of which they rest.

And far away from the carnage, from the bloodied corpses, their flesh torn from bullets, in a lavish office in Washington, a tic is made on a leaf of stationary, glasses are raised in celebration. It is over.

And back at Wounded Knee fresh snow falls to earth from leaden clouds entombing the bodies in a crypt of ivory. It has ended. Everything ended that day on Wounded Knee.

Poetry

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Will Hodgkinson paints a vivid image of war and conflict at Wounded Knee.

It Ended at Wounded Knee

Akash Mehta

This past April, I spent a week with the 29 most passionate, inspiring, unbelievable teenagers I have ever met.

Each year, the We Are Family Foundation, founded by Nile Rodgers, the musician behind the song that gave the organization its name, selects 30 teen leaders for a week-long intensive conference in New York City called the Three Dot Dash Just Peace Summit. These teens, dubbed Global Teen Leaders or GTLs, work to make their communities more peaceful.

The 2014 GTLs are involved in many campaigns: raising money to combat pediatric cancer, promoting representation of South Africans in children’s books, fighting for orangutan habitat in Borneo, advocating anti- bullying, helping to fight against hunger. One girl has raised over half a million dollars to supply food to those in need in Hawaii; a 13-year-old-boy’s organization distributed over 500,000 pounds of food to South Florida and Jamaica; another boy founded a girl’s school in Nepal, while another advocates against single-use plastic use in India and works to construct toys from trash. My roommate, also thirteen, has spoken to over 10,000 people about how to save endangered species. I learned more from these incredible activists than I ever imagined possible.

The GTL program was inspired by a peacemaker and poet named Mattie Stepanek. Mattie, who suffered from Dysautonomic Mitochondrial Myopathy, a rare, incurable degenerative disease of muscle cells, wrote six New York Times bestselling books of poetry. The poems deal with the issues our world faces — war, hunger, poverty — but ultimately deliver the simple message that peace is possible. Mattie served as the National Goodwill Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, was interviewed by Oprah and Larry King multiple times, and struck up a close friendship with Jimmy Carter, who called him “the most extraordinary person I have ever met in my life.” In 2004, Mattie passed away at 13 years old.

Within his short life, filled with so much pain and time spent in the ICU, living with the certain knowledge that his life would soon be over, he was determined to work toward making peace a reality. That is a humbling and inspiring gift to us all. We Are Family, moved by the power of someone so young, initiated the GTL program to work with other young peacemakers.

The first Three Dot Dash Just Peace Summit, named after a book coauthored by Mattie and Jimmy Carter, was held in 2008. Altogether, the efforts of all the Global Teen Leaders, who come from more than 40 countries, have affected more than 15 million people in all seven continents.

The efforts of all the Global Teen Leaders, who come from more than 40 countries, have affected more than 15 million people in all seven continents.

The GTLs have, in past years, proved to be quite a powerful bunch. In 2011, a GTL named Mahmoud Jabari was arrested by Israeli police for taking photographs of a Palestinian demonstration. The GTLs of his group were outraged. They wrote letters to their country’s ambassadors and representatives, as well as to leaders of influential organizations, creating as huge an uproar as they could. Six days later, facing international pressure, the Israeli government released Mahmoud.

The Midtown Summit was a short subway ride from where I live; I was the only local GTL, not flown in for the Summit. We all went not knowing what to expect, and showed up confused and jet-lagged (except for me), but excited and ready to make the most of whatever the week would bring. Later that day, after bonding, getting lost and trying to find a Shake Shack, we had our first official event of the week. Thirty of us crowded into a room, soon to be dubbed the “hangout suite,” and met our “hotel mom,” Kim. Kim is one of the most charismatic people I have ever met. The instant we arrived she was cracking jokes and breaking the ice. We introduced ourselves and told each other one unique thing about ourselves. Mine was that English was my fourth language, despite being the only one in which I am now fluent. The session was called “Goals, Ground Rules, and Expectations,” but there was only one real rule (apart from the humiliation we’d receive if we were late) that Kim told us: don’t fall in love.

“Every year,” she said, “every year, on the last day, I have a couple sitting on my couch crying their eyes out. Just, please, don’t fall in love.”

Immediately after the introduction we hustled through the rain to the venue area: a huge open space with ceiling to floor-size windows overlooking the city and a beautiful roof terrace. We attended an opening ceremony, were individually introduced to a crowd of the organization’s supporters, and got to know each other a bit better. The next week was one of the most packed and intense of my life. Every day different speakers lectured on ways we could expand our projects. Speakers included a project manager at Facebook, award-winning photographers, and a company called Prinkshop, which advocates positive social causes by printing them on clothes and accessories. Prinkshop personally designed t- shirts for each one of us!

My favorite speaker was Jamal Joseph, a former Black Panther member, poet, producer, director, writer, activist, and professor of film at Columbia University. He gave a presentation on how to use video and film to dramatically increase a message’s impact. He spoke about his life and experiences with the Black Panther Party. The little I knew about the Black Panthers was overshadowed by the Party’s militant, sometimes violent, actions. Jamal told us his story and what the Black Panthers hoped to create as part of the civil-rights and Black Power movements of the 1960s and 70s. He told us about the vital community work the Party had done, and recounted the first Party meeting he attended. He was a teenager, 15 years old, and passionate about securing rights for his community and people.

His friends had told him that every new member had to kill a white cop. At one point at the first noisy meeting, Jamal yelled out, “Kill all dem white folk!”

The crowded room immediately fell silent. The chapter leader, sitting at a large desk in the front of the room, looked at Jamal.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning. Jamal nervously walked to the desk. “You want to join the Party? Serve your people?”

Jamal nodded and recited what his friends had told him.

“Well then. You’ll be needing these.”

The man opened a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a stack of books. Uncle Tom’s Cabin. The Autobiography of Malcolm X. Why We Can’t Wait.

“These,” he said, “These are your weapons. Read up, boy!”

The Summit’s activities were a combination of reflective and instructive sessions, as well as active projects. We spent an entire day at a Manhattan PR firm, where we learned how to present ourselves and our projects from experts who teach large businesses how to do the same. Another day, we went into the city in small groups for an assignment: to photograph inequality, and then voted on the best photograph. The winning picture was a powerful juxtaposition of a homeless man leaning against a giant poster of models from a clothing company.

Throughout the week, we became more than attendees at the same 
conference, more than even friends. We became brothers and sisters.

The relationships I formed with my fellow GTLs were far stronger than you’d expect in just a week. It was more than just being inspired by them. Every night, after the long day, we’d go out in small groups and explore the city, eat at cheap restaurants, talk for hours about our projects, our lives at home, our friends, our schools, how the countries we came from were different and how they were similar. Throughout the week, we became more than attendees at the same conference, more than even friends. We became brothers and sisters.

The staff gave us so much, as did the donors who made the Summit possible, the alumni who came back to volunteer, and everyone involved in the Summit. This was an opportunity to invest in the future. We felt a responsibility to carry Mattie’s message as far as we could, to make his dream, all of our dreams, a reality.

I expected I would leave the conference with some concrete knowledge about how to make the work I do more effective. And in a way, I did. I got better at presenting and learned more about social media. But honestly, if that was all I had learned, it wouldn’t have been worth skipping a week of school. The real value was meeting Jamal, hearing Mattie’s story in his mother’s own words, feeling the energy and excitement of all around me, seeing their inspiration, hope, and passion. The staff, volunteers, new and former mentors, alumni, current GTLs, we are all part of something larger than any one of us: we are family.

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Akash Mehta shares what he learned about social justice, peacemaking, leadership, and friendship at the We Are Family Foundation's Three Dot Dash Just Peace Summit for Global Teen Leaders.

We Are Family

Gemma Laurence

Before he went to college, my brother told my great-aunt, “I’m going to become an astrophysicist.”

She gave him a quizzical expression. “Really? Now how will that help people?”

He seemed a bit miffed. “How could astrophysics not help people? Exploring outer space broadens our perspectives on life! Through scientific innovations we increase human knowledge! We can find answers to essential questions about the origins of life on Earth? Are we alone in the universe or are there other sentient beings out there? Without space exploration, we live in a bubble, ignorant of the infinite expanse beyond us.”

My great-aunt paused to reflect. “As much as these broad questions are interesting, how does all of this pertain to people in everyday life? Or, for that matter, people in need?”

To provide some background, my great-aunt is a humanitarian, a person who seeks to promote human welfare, and supports numerous charities and nonprofit organizations. Her objection to astrophysics was less about astrophysics itself, and more about the money given to NASA that could go to organizations that help people in need. She did not understand why governments invest so much money in science when there are other worthy causes.

“Well,” my brother explained, “learning more about the science of the universe also sparks interest in people who might not have otherwise been interested in science, and on the whole, has helped us greatly in our everyday life. Through NASA, human communication has progressed with cell phones, radios, and GPS, all made available by outer space satellites. In the early Apollo missions, NASA created digital image processing which, although intended to make the moon more clear, ultimately was found to be most helpful in enhancing images of human organs.”

Although I agree that my brother presented a reasonable argument for helping people, I also understand my great-aunt’s point. It should be asked if there are more ethical ways to spend the money we are allocating to government agencies like NASA. In our world at present there are real problems: poverty, disease, homelessness, and war. Most of the world is in dire need of help. Is it right to spend billions of dollars on sending rockets to Mars or advancing first-world technology, when there are people in the world without healthcare or clean water? Funding projects that establish healthcare facilities, sustainable food supplies, and potable water, in areas around the globe, may be more important than exploring space or advancing today’s technology.

Wealthy, developed nations may send money and aid for people in need, but often the aid does not reach the people it is intended to help. Last year at a group I participate in, Model UN, I learned that most of the money sent by the U.S. and other developed countries to poorer regions goes directly to those countries’ governments, or organizations that distribute the aid, not to the refugee camps themselves.

Just as funding NASA can limit what our government can give to others in need, the expansion of fast-food chains also has unintended consequences. Large, multi-billion dollar corporations don’t just cater to consumers, they encourage us to consume more. Cheap, junk foods are often just a five-minute drive away and the overall effects are far more negative than positive. Fast food chains often put smaller, independently-owned restaurants out of business. They often pay less than minimum wage to their workers. They make their food the cheapest price for the largest quantity, but provide little real nutrition. In addition, the production of many fast food products create an immense carbon footprint. Most of the food, from the meat to the vegetables, is not locally grown or raised and must be trucked or flown in from other parts of the country or the world. People eat fast foods — which is one of the leading causes of worldwide obesity, because the products are easily available, inexpensive, and sometimes trendy — but seem indifferent to the consequences.

We want to move forward, but we don’t want to give up any of our 
conveniences. In fact, we are putting ourselves and future generations 
in jeopardy.

Many people refute climate change and the growing impact it has on the world. They don’t realize that global warming is not just a threat in the future. It is immediate, it is here now, and worsening. We want new technology and cheaper energy to make our lives easier, but the environmental impacts are immense. Extreme weather events, such as droughts, hurricanes, and tsunamis, are much more common due to climate change. Sea levels are rising, swallowing small islands and eroding coastlines around the world. Ocean temperatures are warming and ocean life, fish, animals, coral reefs, are in danger. We cease to be aware of how our behavior or lifestyles impact our environment. We want to move forward, but we don’t want to give up any of our conveniences. In fact, we are putting ourselves and future generations in jeopardy.

We’re often not aware that we’re making an impact on the natural world in our quest for discovery and progress. When I went backpacking in Wyoming last summer, on my National Outdoor Leadership school trip, I did not think about the impact I would be making on the environment. From my perspective, I was embarking on an adventure, a journey of self-discovery. In that month, I learned so much about myself and the world around us, and was changed by the experience. From an environmental standpoint, I thought what I was doing was incredible: transportation only on foot, no use of technology, using negligible amounts of fuel to cook. We also abided by the “Leave No Trace” policy. Sounds pretty eco-friendly right? Well, kind of. I’m from Maine, so the trip meant driving two hours to Boston, then taking two flights covering 2,000 miles, and finally, an hour-long bus ride. As soon as I’d done the math, I was shocked by the carbon footprint I had left.

Was it ethical for me to have taken that trip? Even though I burned fossil fuels traveling to Wyoming, my experiences that month were life-changing. The trip enabled me to take a new look at our choices in transforming beautiful, untouched wilderness into concrete-smothered cities and rethink the choices I make in my own life. For instance, I recently got my driver’s license, but I now choose to bike most places in order to cut back on fossil fuels. I take shorter showers. I limit my electricity usage. While these are just small lifestyle changes, I am now far more conscious of my own environmental impact. Despite the plane and car rides, ultimately the trip to Wyoming was a good thing as it altered my awareness of the environment.

All of this leads to the big question: What is the role of ethics in discovery and progress? We make choices in favor of advancing technology, consumerism, and even self-discovery, without thinking of the broader, long-term consequences. How do we create an ethical balance? The first step is being aware that there is always a tradeoff, and progress comes at a price.

In a KidSpirit Big Question response, teen writer Gemma Laurence explores how we often make choices in favor of advancing technology, consumerism, and even self-discovery, without thinking of the broader, long-term consequences for ourselves and the environment. 

What is the Role of Ethics in the Quest for Discovery and Progress?

Zeeshan Hassan-Andoh

“They only shot a body but they cannot shoot my dreams.” — Malala Yousafzai

I have been to several 16th birthday parties for family and friends, but the most memorable was on July 12, 2013, for Malala Yousafzai.

I was invited to this event because my mother, the Global Director of Equality Now, a non-profit organization involved in combating violence against women and girls, was helping the organizers of the Malala Fund.

Malala is a Pakistani girl who has been speaking out against the Taliban’s attacks on girls’ schools in Swat, Pakistan, since the age of 12. Located in northwest Pakistan, the beautiful valley of Swat was at one time known as the “Switzerland of Asia.” My mother recounts her happy memories of a family vacation in Swat when she was a school-girl in Pakistan. However, post-Talibanization, the valley was overtaken by terrorism, violence, and an intolerance that has dictated daily life. The Taliban seeks to eliminate education for women and girls, and confine them to their houses. They wreak havoc on both Afghanistan and Pakistan.

Malala responded to these challenges by calling for schools and education for girls. While adults were afraid to go against the Taliban, Malala courageously spoke out. She realized she had no future if the Taliban was in control. When I heard about this, I was amazed; I hadn’t realized that anyone could be so brave. In her book, I Am Malala, she describes how the Taliban publicly whips people in the town square. I know that if I were in her position, I would have been far too afraid to even step out of my house.

In October of 2012, Malala was shot by the Taliban. It was unclear for several days whether she would survive. The world breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared that she was improving and that a full recovery might be possible. Most of all, Malala had not lost her spirit after this near-death experience; rather, her resolve to stand up against the Taliban was strengthened.

After she regained consciousness, Malala’s first public appearance was at the United Nations on the day of her 16th birthday. My cousins and I were invited to a private birthday party with Malala and her family. I could not wait. Before the party, I watched a video of Malala speaking at the United Nations, and was astounded that a 16-year-old girl was better spoken and more moving than either Ban Ki-moon, the Secretary General of the United Nations, or Gordon Brown, the former Prime Minister of the UK. I realized the whole world would be watching her, and that I would actually get to meet her later that day. It was a bit overwhelming.

I was quite nervous to meet her as I could clearly see she was unlike any other 16-year-old I have ever encountered. Fortunately, my anxiety was misplaced. As we entered the apartment, Malala and her family greeted us very warmly. Her father, Ziauddin Yousafzai, is another activist in the family. He has always supported Malala. He comes from an area of Pakistan where people are devastated at the birth of a girl, rather than a boy, and where the prime characteristics of a “good girl” are obedience and silence. Instead of conforming to such social norms, he took Malala wherever he went and encouraged her to stand up for what she believed in. In his words, “I did not clip her wings.” Malala’s mother was shy and quiet, as she only speaks Pashto, a language native to that region.

Malala was very excited to help decorate the party room with streamers, noisemakers, and party-hats. I found this interesting as most American 16-year-olds would not have been. Her two younger brothers were very interested in games, magic tricks, and making people laugh. They had set up a Beyblades spinning top arena, as well as card games. We all played together, and Malala showed us some card tricks and taught us how to play with Beyblades. Maybe she wasn’t as different from other kids as I had previously thought. Still, it felt slightly weird playing games with someone who I had just seen only a few hours ago making a speech at the United Nations. I remember thinking how a lot of teenagers I know absolutely despise school, while this girl risked her life just so that she could go to school. Her fight for education makes me appreciate my schooling all the more.

Although she is an international celebrity, and can as easily talk about issues ranging from education policy to terrorism, she likes to have fun. She told us that next time she visited she would like to go to Six Flags and ride a roller-coaster as she had never been on one. Later on, the easy conversation moved into more troubling matters as Malala vividly described her ordeal after her shooting. When she woke up in the hospital, she worried about the cost of the hospital treatment and her parents ability to pay. When they visited her, she pretended that her wound didn’t hurt too much so as not to worry them, even though she was in extreme agony. It surprised me that as she spoke about her experience she maintained her composure, something I found very admirable, as her story was extremely painful — both physically and emotionally.

Thinking back on that party, I am fortunate to have been in the presence of one of those rare individuals who are not afraid to risk everything for a cause in which they believe. Such individuals are few and far between; they change the course of history. Among them I would count Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Gloria Steinem. Most people will turn a blind eye to injustices around them as it is easier to do so. Spending time with Malala I was struck by how easy it was to talk to her, and how humble and well-mannered she is; she got up to give her seat to my mother! She has a presence, poise, and strength that I have never seen in any other teenager. It was truly inspiring and has made me all the more grateful for what I have. I knew that I was meeting a leader who will do great things for the world.

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments piece, teen writer Zeeshan Hassan-Andoh describes the most memorable 16th birthday party he's ever been to: Nobel laureate Malala Yousafzai's.  

My Evening with Malala Yousafzai

Swastika Jajoo

Interfaith Connections is a column for teens to dialogue about how their faith or wisdom tradition influences their view of life’s big questions. In each issue, three teens from different backgrounds respond to a question posed by the Editorial Board, based on the theme. This quarter the Ed Board asks:

How does your faith or wisdom tradition view the idea of human progress?

John F. Kennedy famously said, “The best road to progress is freedom’s road.”

The idea of human progress has long been a topic for discussion and introspection. From scientists to philosophers, technicians to housewives, human progress has been an area studied and contemplated. Human progress can be classified into two categories: individual and social. The social notion of progress is a culmination of individual viewpoints, which vary across countries, cultures, and traditions. Both individual and social progress are beautifully intertwined.

I am Indian and belong to a Hindu family. I have lived in a variety of cities from the capital city of Delhi to Chennai, located in the far south. I do not differentiate between gods. I believe there is one united power that manifests itself in our spirits, and that power is called the Almighty. I believe all religions are one; they point toward a common goal or notion of progress. Be it Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, or Parsees, the view of human progress is essentially the same, although some differences prevail as to how progress can be reached. The premise for evolution lies in purifying the soul; integral is the idea of good over evil.

The emphasis of Indian culture and society is not only in our technological and economic progress. Our culture focuses on progress which cannot be elucidated by mere physical evidence. We look for spiritual and intellectual progress; for evolution of the mind and soul in such a way that they become one with the supreme power of the universe, a power many refer reverently to as God.

Individual progress is about figuring out “Who am I?” in the larger scheme of things. It is set in motion when we start questioning the reasons for our existence, and look for authenticity, meaning, and purpose in our lives. Progress is not learning how to operate the next-gen Apple or Windows operating system. Progress is learning how to operate the inner “operating system,” strategically installed in our conscience.

Individual progress is about figuring out “Who am I?” in the larger scheme of things.

This inbuilt system helps us discern between right and wrong and make choices based on intuition and rationality. We like to think we are highly advanced, or how much the gross domestic product of our country has skyrocketed. But I believe in the values of honesty and integrity, altruism and harmony. These values are more in keeping with the theory of Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, specifically self-actualization. Attaining self-actualization requires the continuous practice of mindfulness-based meditation, It requires a willingness to observe everything that passes through our conscious and unconscious, patiently and impassively.

Social progress, on the other hand, deals with asking ourselves, “Who are we?” Given India’s sheer diversity, this progress is gradual, but also enriching. That we work toward a day when all of us can live without a single riot in the streets is commendable. My college has a group called Dhyana, or focused meditation, which adopted this idea. This year, Dhyana will hold talks and group discussions to spread awareness about religious unity. The idea is bringing about change one breath at a time, one moment at a time.

As a society we seek to find threads that link us together. We seek to build an all-inclusive spirit in each citizen. This involves taking simple steps, such as visiting the homes of friends who belong to other religions and become acquainted with their customs and traditions. Our parents and teachers play an important role as mentors. When they speak to us about religious diversity in the country, we hope to become more accepting of the people around us. What was once “We are Hindus,” “We are Muslims,” “We are Christians,” slowly transforms into “We are Indians.”

Individual progress and social progress lead to the development of a country. If we feel empowered, physically, intellectually, spiritually, and emotionally, then a new surge of power can generate within us. We can raise our voices, take a stand, and make a difference. This empowerment encourages us to find our true potential, scripting the most astonishing stories of progress; stories that make the nation proud and the world stand in awe.

Mahatma Gandhi, known as the father of our nation, was extraordinary in all his ordinariness. He had the courage to disconnect himself from the external world and look within for answers. This is how he developed the concept of nonviolence, declaring it the highest manifestation of truth. He would often say, “If someone slaps one side of your face, simply smile and show them the other.” Nonviolence and satyagraha, or insistence on truth, formed the basis for India’s struggle for freedom. Nonviolence eventually succeeded, its ammunition stronger than any tanker, gun, or bomb. Gandhi had the courage to stand up for his ideas, even if it initially meant standing alone. For him progress was simple: “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”

Human progress can sometimes lead to violence and crime. Our religious texts speak of unity and the importance of moral righteousness, yet we often witness crime in our streets. Some years ago, my grandmother, my mother, and I were traveling in a rickshaw to the temple. We were a few meters from the temple when two bikers rode past us very fast, and using a knife, severed my grandma’s gold chain from her neck. They sped away before we could process what had happened. Afterward, I thanked God that my grandmother suffered no cuts or injuries, though her face was ashen with shock. We filed a police complaint but the gold chain was never recovered. The loss she suffered was great, because in India precious jewelry is not limited to material adornment; it holds personal value. I thought from that day on that I must protect my country and my family and fight for justice. But I realized the fight for justice cannot be just a physical one.

Let me be candid about the problems in my country. In New Delhi going out alone after dark can be dangerous for most women. They are afraid their bare legs may attract lecherous glances or they may be approached by drunken men. This is their reality; women are gripped by this fear. There has been an increase in the number of molestations by school teachers on students, and an increase in robberies and other crimes. However, I see a new seriousness in our judiciary. The laws of my country have become stronger and new laws are being instated. I see a new seriousness in my people as well. We have learned what was long overdue: we have learned how to take a stand. I see my country gradually undergoing what I call ‘the revolution of the mind.’

We shall reach the pinnacle of progress riding on belief, and when we reach it, we will establish an even higher pinnacle and embark on an even more arduous journey.

I believe in the sanctity of my culture and our age-old value system. That a handful of our people indulge in immoral acts no way implies that our entire population is sinful or corrupt. We come from the land of Buddha. Though evil sometimes prevails and infects our cultural understandings, we keep reminding ourselves of the immeasurable good that has been the bastion of our country. We will progress with whatever it takes, slowly but steadily, to rise above. It won’t happen immediately but it is a journey we have already embarked upon. We shall reach the pinnacle of progress riding on belief, and when we reach it, we will establish an even higher pinnacle and embark on an even more arduous journey. Progress is not a one-time accomplishment; it is a continuous process of both external and internal exploration. The pinnacle of progress is achieving what I refer to as the revolution of the mind. I want my fellow countrymen to break from stereotypical notions and look at life with a broader perspective. I don’t want social stigma to govern the morality of our actions.

On an individual level, I want to focus my energies towards evolving spiritually and developing a holistic understanding of my emotions. The theory of emotional intelligence is now an emerging field of study and I seek to become more emotionally intelligent. I believe intellect without emotion amounts to nothing. I want to write more. I want to reach out to more people and establish connections with them through my words. I want my words to sing, like a lyrical poetic profusion, and sing not to the minds but to the hearts of people.

I believe progress comes from understanding where you are today and where you want to be tomorrow. It comes from understanding who you are today and who you want to be tomorrow. Progress is not a prototype. Progress is an identity you give to yourself.

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Swastika Jajoo explains that Indian culture emphasizes not just technological and economic progress, but a spiritual and intellectual journey towards enlightenment.

The Soul and the Mind

Tanmaya Murthy

The Village by the Sea, an award-winning novel by the prolific Indian author Anita Desai, is a heartwarming, life-enriching story. Written with a simple sensibility, the novel offers readers a glimpse into the complexities faced by an impoverished family in a small Indian village.

This ingenious, inspiring work of fiction has touched the hearts of millions, including mine.

The story is set in a small fishing village, Thul on the western coast of India, some 14 kilometers away from metropolitan Bombay, now Mumbai. In the beginning of the book, Desai mentions that the story is based entirely on fact, as she visited Thul during weekends with her family. Her characters are based on people living in the village. There are certain words in the native Indian language in the novel, which may be unfamiliar to young English readers, and Desai has provided a glossary.

The main characters of the story are Lila and Hari, two siblings in a family struggling to make ends meet. Lila is 13 and Hari is a year younger. They have to shoulder the responsibilities in order to survive the harsh realities of their family’s bleak financial situation. With their mother chronically ill and their alcoholic father, they have to earn money to run the household and educate their two younger sisters. As a result, both Hari and Lila have given up their studies.

Life is miserable for them. Lila has only a few days of work as a servant and Hari works a small plot of land to grow crops. The crops never yield enough food for them and and his small fishing net never catches enough fish to fill the stomachs of his family. Hari is strong and wants to get a better job but he cannot tolerate the turmoil of his family. He runs away to Bombay, known as “The City of Dreams,” without telling his family, leaving Lila to manage things on her own. The way the siblings make their way through this story and their grinding poverty is remarkable!

Desai brings Thul to life with subtle and vivid imagery. The vibrant descriptions help the reader delve right into the book and reach the place metaphorically. Don’t read this book just for the amazing storyline. Read it for the “scarlet hibiscus blossoms,” the “sweet-smelling spider lilies,” the “bright, butter-yellow allamanda flowers.” Read it for the exotic species of birds — the curlews and sandpipers, herons and kingfishers, swooping to catch glistening fish in the “whispering waves.” Desai describes the hue of the ocean from coffee to peacock blue to emerald green. The reader is awed by the beauty sculpted in nature’s mold.

The only drawback I found was the lack of tension in the first half of the book. The story proceeds quite slowly in its initial phase. But as you reach the second part, the story picks up and you won’t want to close the book until the last page is turned. I became personally involved in the story and could even feel my presence in Thul. I could feel the “salty tang” of the wind and the freshness of the waves. A good book like this takes you straight to the scene of the story and makes you feel like one of the characters. What more can a reader ask for?

The book is not only to be read as a beautiful literary work, or for pleasure, but for inspiration. One has to accept the challenges of life and strive to meet them with dignity. This book is about how Hari and Lila rise above their struggles and emerge victorious in their quest for survival.

The characters are well drawn. Hari represents hard work and determination; his moral fiber streaked with emotion. Lila is poised, patient, and tolerant. The story of their struggles and their indomitable spirit is inspiring to those in similar circumstances and sure to regenerate lost willpower and offer hope. The book is very well written and aroused my emotions, it made me feel sympathy towards all of the characters. I cried about their struggles and pains, laughed and rejoiced for their progress and gains.

An important message the book conveys is the need for change for the better. Our surroundings and environment are constantly changing and we must adapt our outlook accordingly. We have to broaden our vistas in order to progress. As Heraclitus once said, “Change is the only constant.” There is one wonderful line from the novel regarding the same idea, “The wheel turns and turns and turns; it never stops and stands still.”

Desai’s writing style is pure and passionate. Her stories are straight from the heart. They contain the flavor of the soil, and acquaint readers with Indian culture and traditions. I think readers from most age groups will enjoy this novel. It is beautifully written, intricately woven, and replete with creativity. Anita Desai has given us a literary gem. She truly deserved the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize, which she received in 1983. Kudos to her!

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Tanmaya Murthy offers her thoughts on The Village by the Sea, an award-winning novel by the prolific Indian author Anita Desai. 

Flavor of India

The golden bars of sunlight fall
over the green velvet lawns and hit
the windows of the mansion,
turning them into winking jewels.

In the bedroom, the Master awakes.
He pulls back his silk sheets and calls
the valet, who helps him out
of his brocade robe.

He showers and shaves in the bathroom
with its gleaming Italian marble and gilt
mirrors. The servant dresses him in an
immaculate business suit.

Breakfast laid out for him
on a tray, like a sacrificial offering.
The Master dismisses his employee
with a wave of a manicured hand.

He forks his food slowly into his mouth,
appraising each bite of the gourmet meal.
The Master sets the tray down and sweeps
out of the room, moving down wide corridors
lined with canvases, each one costing more
than a house.

The Master pauses at the top of the grand
staircase and looks down, a contented smile
on his face. The foyer below is cavernous.
An immense chandelier dangles above
the waxed parquet floor like a
miniature crystal palace.

The air hangs heavy with expensive scent.
The Master glides down the steps with an
easy arrogant gait. Two uniformed flunkies
hold open the front doors.

He walks down the broad steps and moves
with an egotist’s purpose toward
his limousine. The door is opened for him
by a liveried chauffeur.

He climbs into his cocoon
of soft leather and polished wood.

Far from this idyll of wealth, the
Master’s workers toil in misery and
squalor. Crushed and oppressed,
dreaming of one day being the one
in charge; dreaming of one day
owning a place like their employer’s.

But it will never happen,
not with the Master at the top.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Will Hodgkinson gives us a window into the lives of the wealthy - and the inequality that makes their lifestyle possible. 

 The One Percent Mansion

Dr. Marcelo Gleiser

Here is a question you don’t think about everyday: where did the stuff you’re made of come from?

We know we are made of cells, and cells are made of molecules, and molecules are made of different atoms. But where do the atoms come from? The ground? Food?

Well, food is also made of living stuff, or at least stuff that lived before, so the question is the same there. The answer, if you don’t know it, may surprise you: all the atoms that are part of our bodies — iron, calcium, oxygen, etc. — and, by the way, that are part of everything else we see around us, come from stars. We are literally, and lyrically, animated bundles of stardust. This connects us deeply with the universe, in more ways than we can imagine.

Science is a way of making sense of the world. It is a narrative, a story in a way, that people have been creating for quite some time. The key difference between the story science tells and other stories is that science tells a story that can be verified, that deals with facts. For science to be a credible story, it needs to be verifiable. And no wonder, given that its main topic is “reality.” Now, reality is a pretty loaded word, as it can mean different things for different people. For scientists, reality has to do with what we can see and measure of the world, with and without instruments. Telescopes, microscopes, detectors of all kinds are “reality amplifiers,” opening windows into parts of nature that are too small or too far for us to see. We search for the invisible and see plenty of it.

We search for the invisible and see plenty of it.

Thanks to our amazing instruments the modern picture of the universe is quite shocking. The atoms that we are made of, and that we see in stars and in planets, are only a tiny contribution to what fills the cosmos: five percent. This is a strange picture of reality, where the common kind of matter is the absolute minority.

How can we know about the rest if it doesn’t shine? First, we must explain that “shining” is not the only way to see something. Things radiate, that is, they emit radiation in the form of electromagnetic waves, even if human eyes can’t see most of these waves. When you turn on a lamp, the light you see is coming from vibrations in the atoms that make up the filament. We can say that light is how atoms sweat. They may do so in the visible, and we can see it, or in invisible kinds of “light,” such as infrared, or ultraviolet. So, a modern astronomer sees the objects in the cosmos by collecting all kinds of light, from the visible and the infrared to more exotic ones, like x-rays and gamma rays.

Even after looking for all these kinds of radiation, matter made of atoms comes to five percent of the total. The other 95 percent are divided into two “ingredients”: dark matter and dark energy. The British author Philip Pullman, in his amazing trilogy His Dark Materials, explores the existence of dark matter fictionally (“dust”). At this point fiction is not a bad way to explain dark matter, given that we don’t really know what it is. We know it’s there because its mass pulls on objects we can see, especially galaxies. Galaxies move at huge speeds, and their motions are the results of two main effects: First, they drift away due to the expansion of the universe, as corks carried by a river. Second, they may attract one another and gain local deviations from this “cosmic flow.” To “see” dark matter, astronomers measure the speeds of galaxies and find that they are too big to be caused only by the stuff we see. The amazing thing is that this dark matter (“dark” from not being able to make light of any kind) is five times more abundant than ordinary matter, making up for about 25% of the stuff in the universe. An invisible cloak of dark matter particles surrounds us — our galaxy. Some may be going through you right now and you wouldn’t know.

We still have 70% left over. This is the even bigger surprise. In 1998, two groups of astronomers discovered that stars in faraway galaxies were drifting away from us way too fast; as if the universe were in a hurry to grow even bigger. The speeds at which these galaxies were moving away started accelerating some five billion years ago, about the same time the sun and the planets formed. No one expected this one. What could cause this kind of “repulsive gravity”? Well, we have candidates, possible explanations from pretty exotic physics. But we still don’t know the answer. What we do know is that to explain the observed cosmic acceleration, this “dark energy” needs to contribute the leftover 70% of stuff filling the universe. According to modern cosmology, the part of physics that studies the universe, we live surrounded by dark and mysterious stuffs.

This may sound weird, given that science is always learning more about the world. But if you think about how science actually works, it makes perfect sense. The best way to see this is to imagine what I call the Island of Knowledge. If everything that we know of the world would fit into an island, this island would grow as we learn more. Sometimes it may also shrink — when an idea we think is true is actually false. (This does happen, more often than you imagine.) On average, however, the island grows. Now, as with every good island, an ocean also surrounds this one. It is the ocean of the unknown, what we still don’t know of the world.

You would think that as the island grows, this ocean of the unknown would shrink away. Some people believe that one day the island will take over and we will know everything there is to know about nature. That, I argue, is an impossible dream. As the island of knowledge grows, so do the shores of our ignorance, the boundary between the known and the unknown. In practice this means that the more we know of the world, the more questions we can ask about it. Think, for example, of biology before and after the microscope. Before it was invented in the late seventeenth century, people had a very simplistic view of life: living things were big and moved about. After the microscope, a whole new world of what life is and how small it can get opened up. New questions could be asked that no one could have imagined before.

New instruments often reveal new universes for us to explore. The ocean of the unknown grows with the Island of Knowledge. After all, how could we possibly ever know all the questions we can ask about the world? Happily, we are surrounded by mystery, by the unknown. And that’s what makes science so exciting. It’s about what we don’t know of the world, the unseen stuff, big and small. What’s important is not to know all the answers but to keep on asking. As Tom Stoppard wrote in his play Arcadia, “It’s the wanting to know that makes us matter.”

In a KidSpirit PerSpectives piece, physicist Dr. Marcelo Gleiser offers his take on scientific discovery, cosmic exploration, and the many questions we can ask about our universe.

The Mystery Is Out There

Uday Schultz

Democracy. It is the system that empowers the people, the system for which humans have fought and died, the system that gives people power to vote on issues relating to government.

It gives each individual a voice and the right to exercise their opinion. It has shown itself to to be an effective and fair method of governance. In very recent times, Egypt, Tunisia, Libya, and Syria — to name but a few — have been engaged in struggles to cast off the constraints of sectarian rule and become democracies.

Democracy has its origins in ancient Greece. With some variations, the ideals of the democratic process were established in ancient Athens, around 505 BCE, and are remarkably similar to the workings of democracy today in the United States. The word democracy is formed from the Greek demos (people) and kratos (power). The democratic system is credited to Cleisthenes, a noble Athenian civic leader, who overthrew the tyrant Hippias, and set about reforming government. He established legislative bodies, replaced the ruling family tribes with groups from different regions of the state, and reorganized the court system.

The most basic principle of the Athenian model was a system of direct and indirect representation to rule the people and carry out their wishes. There were three main governing bodies: the assembly, the council, and the courts. Those eligible would, in theory, attend a daily meeting of the assembly where issues were debated. They would vote on major items and elect individuals to offices when needed. Similarly, the courts were made up of eligible members of the public. Along with this general assembly, there was a council (called a boule) comprised of delegates from different groups. They wrote laws, which were then sent to the assembly to be ratified.

More than 2000 years after the end of the Athenian democracy, a new powerful democracy was born in the United States. It rose within the cloak of colonialism, and was replaced with an unprecedented form of democracy. The current tri-part system in the United States, the executive, judicial, and legislative branches, although very different in specifics, harken back to the structure of Athenian democracy. On the surface, the Athenian model seemed to be more direct; citizens attended meetings in-person and voted on issues as opposed to acting through a representative. As the population of the U.S. grew, the government had to rework this aspect of direct in-person participation and instead develop a system of democratically elected representatives sent to Congress to forward the opinion of the majority of people within that representative’s district. While not ideal, the majority of the voters within the election district is then represented by the elected legislator who won the election. The representative is supposed to fairly represent all people within his or her district, although this often may fall along party lines.

In Athens, the only people eligible for citizenship were adult non-slave males whose families had been residents for three generations. This reflected an unfair, misogynist, slave-based culture which was prevalent at the time. Theoretically, both rich and poor could attend meetings; however, the less well-off rarely attended due to their financial constraints. Despite its inequity, within this system lies the core idea that people who are citizens can vote, that each can cast a single vote, and each vote is counted.

The definition of citizen, in terms of who can exercise their vote, has broadened since Athenian times. It is interesting to note that when American democracy was created in 1787, it wasn’t inclusive; women could not vote, nor could people of color; voting was limited to white men only. Many voting exclusions of large parts of the populace were not rectified until the twentieth century. And even today, people interned in prisons or those with prison records continue to be disenfranchised.

In the United States today we live in a seemingly more just society than ancient Athens. Through the media, the Internet, and social networking sites, government processes have become more transparent, allowing more people to be informed about the workings of the government. However, political power is still unfairly balanced towards the rich and the powerful. Gerrymandering, limitless campaign donations, corporations being treated the same as people, leading to untold campaign contributions, unfair laws that close voting stations early, illegal voter identification laws, often disenfranchise the poor, the elderly, the young, and people of color in this country.

Some part of the Athenian democratic system was based on persuasive oration. People had to argue their own court cases in front of a jury, demonstrating that Athenians regarded public speaking as a means of force and truth. Today, within the chambers of the United States Congress, the power of public speaking is also often used as a means of persuasion; especially important in times of polarized branches of government trying to pass legislation. One form of political weapon is the filibuster, used often by one representative or one political party, to stall legislation from coming to a vote.

The Greek system of democracy was seemingly incorruptible. Trust was implicit, truth was held to it’s highest standard for every citizen, lawmakers could be impeached, and these principles guided daily life for every Athenian. The demise of the Athenian system came as a result of warring between city-states. The democratic ideals crumbled and other forms of government were installed, none of them ever restoring democracy to its original premise. However, the ideal of Athenian democracy became a great example for future leaders to follow, allowing all people a voice and a vote in their government.

Although the United States government often seems rife with corruption, it is not as bad as compared to most world governments. Through our country’s history there have been numerous scandals, involving bribery, unlawful arms deals, stealing, corruption in many parts of government and private life. Luckily we often recover, learn from these mistakes, and make attempts to right the wrongs. However, many politicians want to be elected or re-elected and will do whatever is necessary to win, such as Ronald Reagan illegally selling arms to Iran, or candidates accepting money from powerful interests to influence the vote. Often large donations are in exchange for furthering private interests at the expense of the public good. The candidate is elected and then expected to pass or block legislation as a “quid pro quo” on behalf of the powerful monied interest.

Despite its downfalls, democracy has proved itself to be a successful system of government in which ordinary citizens can govern and make their own decisions. At times, darker forces cloud the system: greed, cronyism, prejudice, injustice. But democracy has always shown itself stronger than these weaknesses. From the time of the Greeks to the present day, democracy has evolved and strives for the ideal government: of the people, by the people, for the people.

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Uday Schultz explores how the idea of democracy has evolved over many centuries.

Democracy Then and Now

Vanita Sharma

As I grabbed the 10K resistor and screw from the Styrofoam cup, I glanced at the other kids in my Intro to Robotics class at HEROES Rutgers.

HEROES is an academy that offers a variety of classes to talented students. It was my second class. I took my gadgets back to our hard-bottomed stools and saw my classmates scurry around for their equipment. Most of them were geeky, with professional computers, software, and laptops loaded with every video game.

“Ahem, let’s move on with our robot sensors…”

Before attending HEROES, I had never been exposed to “making.” I never expected that kids my age would be interested in inventing and robotics. But soon after my first class, I discovered the world of “makers.”

Makers are a subculture of people who invent and explore new technologies to create something of their own. There are many different types of people who fall under the category of makers. Makers can include: builders, designers, manufacturers, fabricators, architects, inventors, hackers, and more. A maker can be as high-tech as a 3-D printer designer, or as simple as someone making a DIY birthday card. A hacker, a type of maker, is someone who takes everyday items and hacks (modifies) them to make something new.

As I researched the movement, I found magazines like Make, which now has over 100,000 subscribers and holds annual Maker Faires, with attendees from tinkerers to engineers to artists. The Maker Faire has many kids and adults set up their own projects on a stand, and explain them to their audience. The stands include jewelry, robots, clothing, music, and models. I wondered if the increasing population of makers will affect the future of our society. After all, the Wright Brothers started out as boys who tried making a toy helicopter. I always knew that scientists create their own technologies and programs. Steve Jobs invented and built his own computer with a partner in his garage! Steve Jobs is highly respected in the maker movement now — he was an innovator like many makers hope to be today.

My robotics teacher at HEROES, David Peins, is another example of a talented maker. David is the founder and president of Robodyssey Systems, a company that develops educational robotic programs for children. As a young child he liked working on things and taking them apart. After working in many manufacturing companies in engineering, he started teaching electronics classes at the high school level. He started Robodyssey when he asked students to make something move with the circuits they built.

“They started building things that moved very poorly at first,” David said in class, “but they started asking how they could make things more precisely so that they could gain mobility and function for their robots. My school did not have machine shop but my friend Charlie did, so on personal days and holidays I filled the requests of my students and Robodyssey was born.”

Every one of his students counts as a maker, because each student uses his or her imagination to make, design or create some product.

HEROES, believing in the imagination of kids, encourages young makers by offering classes in programming, breadboarding, and inventing. Breadboarding is the act of constructing an experimental circuit for the purpose of feasibility tests. I took Intro to Robotics and Intermediate Robotics, where our goal was to make a line-following robot. I entered that class with no knowledge of robots, resistors, transistors, LEDS, voltage regulators, or circuits, but my teacher guided us through every step.

Robotics is only one of the many facets of “making.” There are many faces of making, including urban gardening, 3-D printing, or knitting. On Make magazine’s website, there are projects in art, craft, engineering, music, food, green design, science, technology, and health. Simply making a DIY halloween costume counts as making!

During class, I realized that kids can be makers too. As my teacher David Peins told me in class, they can create devices that engineers would have trouble imagining. A maker can be anyone, a kid, an expert, a scientist, an adult. When I realized this, I noticed that kids are a big part of the movement. There are countless DIY YouTube channels run by kids, and a large number of kids who like to create their own stuff, such as bracelets.

At my robotics class, my line-following robot consisted of a red plastic base, an arduino, a bunch of wires, and some wheels. A line-following robot is simply a robot that is programmed to follow a certain line. It was a process that took over two months to finish. When half my robot was finished, I felt proud to have gone from knowing nothing to making a functioning robot.

We had to learn how to use a soldering iron, when I wasn’t even allowed to iron my own clothes. We had a competition to see whose robot would make it to the end of the line without stopping. On the first try, none of the robots could make it more than a few steps. But after trial and error, my robot was acing the test.

A few months after my robot was finished, my family was throwing out an old ceramic bowl and I began to think of ways I could hack the bowl into something useful. I thought about making the bowl into a flower pot, or using it as a sound projector for my iPod. After seeing all the astonishing projects created from simple items, I began to look at objects in different ways. I was inspired after watching others make things, and from the pride I felt after making my own robot. Making has no limits — all it requires is some imagination, determination, and a bit of work.

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Vanita Sharma reflects on how the maker movement has empowered her and other girls to learn more about science, robotics, and themselves.

The Maker Movement and Me

Josh Seides

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”– Aesop

Anxious, nervous, excited. All of these words could describe the way I felt the night before I had to teach my first class on technology. I had been up late that night, turning, tossing, sweating bullets. Would anyone think the class was helpful or leave in the middle of it? Would I freeze up and begin rambling like Donkey from Shrek?

In 2012, I started a nonprofit organization called Technocademy, offering free technology lessons to senior citizens, and set up classes at senior living centers throughout the Atlanta area. Ever since I could remember, I have been helping both sets of my grandparents with their technology needs, whether teaching them how to use a new phone or setting up their computers and printers.

So, it occurred to me, “Why not help other grandparents understand these concepts and how to use them properly as senior citizens seem to have a difficult time keeping up with the new technology.” I also organized a group of tech-savvy volunteers from my high school to help me teach these classes. Initially I thought I would need dozens of seniors to show up for each lesson for it to be successful, not fully realizing the impact from my own work.

On the day of the first class, I went through my perfunctory routine: checking for business emails, reviewing the lesson plan, and briefing the other volunteers. Yet there was something different about that first lesson. By the time I finally walked into the massive, stone-pillared senior living center, my stomach was tied in knots. The other volunteers, a few classmates from the National Technical Honor Society at my school, and I were directed to the media room. It was a lively and scenic room, yet eerily quiet and still with not a single soul in the room. I began to panic and doubt myself. Will anyone show up?

After a few minutes alone in the room, one senior woman walked in. She was dressed in a slick pink jacket and was holding an iPad in one hand, gripping it so tightly her fingers were turning red. She sat down and, as if on cue, said “I have no idea how to use this thing.”

My team and I began explaining the basic buttons and functions. When finished, her eyes lit up as if there were a bulb blinking inside her head and she beamed a wide smile. Her smile became contagious and I found myself excited about sharing my knowledge on a topic I know like the back of my hand. In today’s world, technology is easier for younger generations having grown up around it. I sometimes take it for granted and forget there may be millions, possibly billions, of people who are still digitally illiterate.

A few minutes later, a second woman with nicely coiffured hair entered the room. She, too, had a cell phone in her hand and said, “I need some help adjusting the volume.” The other volunteers and I helped both ladies at the same time, explaining and patiently answering their questions. We were so engrossed that we didn’t realize an hour had passed.

Up until that point, I was a little disappointed. My dreams of a first class filled with dozens of seniors did not work out. I felt as if I had not achieved my goal. It was like like trying to skip a small pebble across a stream and having it sink before the first bounce. But then, the second woman got up and said, “Thank you so much. I wasn’t able to speak with my family but I can now call them and listen to their voicemails.” She threw her hands up in relief, and nodded appreciatively. Her eyes and face glowed, something not present a few minutes before. I was, at the same time, surprised and elated by her reaction. Then it hit me: I had made a difference in the lives of seniors, even though there were only two of them in the first class.

At that moment, right in the middle of a summer Georgia day, I felt a tingle in my heart, not from successfully completing the lesson or realizing none of the seniors left before the class ended. Rather I knew I had made a difference for the better, even if my efforts affected only two people. I learned that not everything in life is about statistics and this motivated me to continue with Technocademy. Even though only two seniors attended the first class, the lesson made just as big an impact as it did later when there were forty people in class. I picture that moment all the time when I am volunteering, knowing that the woman with the nicely coiffured hair is talking to her family again.

Since then, Technocademy has grown considerably. I have worked with over 390 senior citizens since that first class and am now working on a nationwide project. We have expanded across the Atlanta community, fueled by motivated volunteers from my school’s Beta and Key Club.

That day I realized: when I see an opportunity to help, even for just one person, it will benefit me and others if I approach the task with an open heart.

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments article, teen writer Josh Seides reflects on how his life was changed by volunteering to teach senior citizens digital literacy.

At First Impact

Ammara Mohsin

It was with much excitement over the prospect of being able to visit a different country, albeit from afar, that I visited the Indo-Pak Wagah Border in Lahore.

This is the boundary dividing India and Pakistan, with the eastern half of the Wagah village in India and the western half in Pakistan. I am from Pakistan, and as our car came to a screeching halt some miles away from the border gate, so did my anticipation. A whirlwind of emotions hit me. The first was disappointment, for India and Pakistan as as similar as a pair of monozygotic twins. Where was the “other country” I was promised?

Secondly, I felt profound confusion. I couldn’t fathom why the rivalry between these two countries existed when they are so similar. Then disappointment came swirling around again, this time coupled with anger about the loss that both of these nations in particular, and humanity in general, incur by twisting a potential friendship into such pronounced enmity.

The border looked as though a mirror had been placed in the middle of the gates. The scene was painted in green, red, orange, and white; the colors of both nations’ flags. The two flags stood together at the entrance gates, tall and proud. Border guards with stern expressions stood as erect as buildings. A huge crowd had gathered, and they watched in awe as the magnitude of the situation slowly dawned on them.

Patriotic songs of both countries were played and were accompanied by loud chants of Pakistan zindabad (“Long live Pakistan”) and Bharat mata ki jai ho (“Victory for Mother India”). Sitting on a balcony step, watching the synchronized parade of soldiers from each country, I couldn’t help but smile. I smiled because I saw there was nothing here to hate. These are just people like us sitting across an imaginary line. I smiled because there is so much that unites us.

This perceived wall does not only exist between India and Pakistan, it occurs within countries all across the globe. We have, for some reason, decided to attribute more importance to nationality, geography, or religion, instead of focusing on our similarities: our sense of self, values, and ethics.

There are many reasons to care about people across different countries’ borders, be it food, festivals, cultural heritage, even hospitality. We can have the best things that each country has to offer if we only embrace each other with open arms and warm hearts. All we need to do is ask ourselves: are the borders that divide us more important than the thousand reasons that unite us? After all, we are all human beings and are taught the same basic principles.

As I scrutinized the solemn expressions on the faces of the people present, I could see that many of them had undergone this epiphany. I couldn’t help but feel our overwhelming similarities, not just those of race, values, or culture, but our common humanity and shared capacity to love. Once this is understood, the borders blur and become mere dividers of geography, not affecting our sense of self, and certainly not dictating how we behave with our fellow human beings.

In this moment, I realized that there is hope. Not all has to be lost to hatred or the lust for power. We can progress, we can rise above the lines that separate. We can explore the capacity for love, sharing, and tolerance.

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments article, teen writer Ammara Mohsin shares what a visit to the Pakistan-India border taught about unity and peace.

Rising Above Borders

Maya Mesh

Imagine a world with burned forests, little drinkable water, and air so polluted it is unsafe to breathe.

We only have one earth. If we continue the way we are going, this is the “progress” that we have created. This doesn’t seem like progress at all, does it?

Since the Industrial Revolution, humans have progressed a lot. Today we have sophisticated medicines that allow us to live longer. The manufacturing industry has transformed itself into a more effective and productive system. However, these gains have also caused major environmental issues such as deforestation, which will eventually lead to the depletion of vital resources like oxygen, food, and drinking water.

Surviving Progress is a mesmerizing 2012 Canadian documentary directed by Harold Crooks and Mathieu Roy, based on the book, A Short History of Progress. The film takes on the challenging role of posing and answering the question: what is progress? For the sci-fi, science, history, and documentary lovers out there, this is a must see.

Viewers are taken to different parts of the world — to China, Brazil, and other countries — to see how so-called “progress” affects people in negative ways. We hear opinions on what the solution should be; to find this solution, the filmmakers interview a range of people, from authors to psychologists and scientists, even economists.

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Maya Mesh reviews the movie Surviving Progress.

Movie Review: Surviving Progress

What drives us to explore new frontiers? Democracy, borders, leadership, innovation — these are just a few of the aspects of Discovery and Progress that KidSpirit writers and artists investigate in our fall issue.

It Ended at Wounded Knee

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