Durva Kamdar

She walked down the polished street
Her chocolate-colored skin shone in the light.
In a mix of cream-colored weeds,
The dark rose was a queer sight.

With her arms filled with books,
Her head filled with dreams,
Her gown filled with holes,
That she alone could not seam.

They came out now,
Uttering her name.
As while they couldn't hurt her,
Her feelings were certainly something they could maim

Just because she was different,
She listened to it all
How she should know her place
And how soon her kind would fall

How somebody of her skin,
Had no place in their new age,
How she had no right to talk to them,
To write her story on a new page.

Her eyes stinging with tears,
She ran to the skid row she called home,
For she thought what they said was true
As she owned no money or pome.

She sobbed,
Her tears caustic with dismay
But she knew, deep down, that for a dark rose in Little Rock,
This was just another day.

Poetry

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Durva Kamdar reminds us of the courage it took to be the first black student at a desegregated school in Little Rock. 

Dark Rose

Fizza Raza

It’s a common saying many of us have heard one too many times: “You have to step out of your comfort zone, it will really help you explore yourself.” 

As is the way with common sayings, the act of their becoming routine in our daily lives creates a paradox; they are the lessons learned by generations past meant to serve generations to come, and yet it’s almost as if their constant repetition inhibits our ability to truly understand what they mean. 

Thus, we hear these phrases often and while our ears detect the words, our brain doesn't really fully process their meaning, and the cycle is re-enacted — it is our individual experiences in life which allow us to arrive at the same conclusion. Maybe you're forced to go on a trip abroad and find you love Thai cuisine even though you'd sworn off exotic foods due to a previous bad experience. It's only then that you realize that the "comfort zone" is actually a phenomena, and you had been so cozy in yours that you might never have discovered your affinity for Thai food. Words like "comfort zone" would now hold newfound importance in your life. Perhaps this is a new lesson in and of itself: the art of absorbing and understanding centuries-old wisdom, so as to learn from the mistakes of others. It was stumbling ungraciously out of my own comfort zone that allowed me to learn this lesson, and also to learn more about myself.

I made this discovery last year, at an academic summer camp I attended in Oxford. The application to attend the camp was hurriedly completed, the expectations were low, and the acceptance into the program was met with denial, almost right up until the day I arrived on site. I had considered myself an extremely outgoing, adaptable person until then, and yet all the confidence I had in my strong, vibrant personality evaporated within an hour. The people, the environment, the air itself was foreign to me, and with a jolt I realized that my personality was just a product of the environment I was surrounded by at home. My city was a small place: everyone knew everyone, and their interests and hobbies were all the same. In the comfort of this familiar place, I had found myself free and confident, a butterfly whose wings stretched far and wide. You can imagine my disgust when I arrived at camp and found myself succumbing to the anxiety in the pit of my stomach, a feeling that I would discover later as my fear of the unknown.

This fear conflicted with the person I thought I was — someone who was confident, funny, fearless — so profoundly that I became convinced I was, in reality, an apprehensive person who was nervous about talking to new people, scared of being rejected, awkward, and not at all charismatic. A thousand paradoxes that I found within myself left me baffled. 

Unknowingly, however, I was operating under a dangerous assumption: my surroundings were alien to me, that was true, but I was assuming everyone else knew what they were doing. I realized this as a girl of small build and wide, anxious eyes approached me quietly and, with a shaky voice, said, “Hello." All the apprehension enveloping me evaporated. It was just one word, and she said it quietly, but I recognized the same fear that I felt. Perhaps that was when I realized that stepping out of my own comfort zone had reaped an invaluable companionship with everyone present, and the universality of that feeling made me feel rejuvenated. The people around me were of different cultures, casts, creeds, and yet they were all young, scared, and foreign in this new place. 

Only a few minutes earlier I had been disconcerted and confused, pondering who I really was, and now I was left feeling ecstatic and slightly amused at how quickly I had let myself fall prey to the voice inside my head. A smile found its way onto my face and I greeted my new acquaintance confidently. I began talking to other girls, and I found myself with several friends by the time the day came to an end and I resigned myself to sleep. 

Classes began the next day and I found I had a knack for building marshmallow towers with spaghetti sticks, but that punting in the rivers was not my strong point. Clothes I would have labelled superficial now seemed cool and bold, and raw fish could apparently taste oddly delicious. These were the littlest of things, and yet they left me pleasantly surprised each time, for I knew had I not been willing to step out of my small city, I never would have discovered this new quirky, hip side of myself. My initial discomfort and self-loathing only led me to believe in myself more fiercely, for I had overcome the voice in my head and had become a wholler, truer me. 

I had felt as if I knew myself entirely and yet, a simple summer course laid that version of me to a rest, and gave rise to someone who, above all other new qualities, will be fearless in stepping out of her comfort zone. I found a new me, and with self-discovery, I had also made dozens of friends from all corners of the globe. Perhaps the most important thing I learned is that complacency is the subtlest and sweetest of fallacies, because while you can always live comfortably and happily in your bubble, you must make a conscious effort to resist the comfort of familiarity in order to truly understand every fiber of who you are. 

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments piece, teen writer Fizza Raza reflects on a discovery about stepping outside her comfort zone.

A Not-So-Comfortable Comfort Zone

Jack Miles

When I was called up to the center altar of my church by the members of “Drums No Guns,” I froze. 

Who was I kidding? I often fidget by drumming pencils on desks or chopsticks on tables, but drumming in front of a few hundred people during a Palm Sunday service that’s webcast to potentially hundreds of others seemed more like a nightmare than reality. I had beat the drum during the procession, and maybe improvised a little, but in no way was I qualified to join the group. I tried to casually play it off and back away, but when I turned around to be absorbed by the crowd, I faced a wall of white robes, colored stoles, and beaming faces. The priests were not going to let me back out of this one. “Go on up,” Father Mark said as he gave me a little shove. “Rock it!” laughed Mother Beth, pointing towards the drummer. I had no choice and walked red-faced up to the altar to meet my fate. 

This memory resonates with me because of how nervous and out of place I felt when first being called to the drum, and also because it captures the essence of life at Trinity Church Wall Street.

I am an Episcopalian Protestant, and was raised immersed in church culture. From a young age I attended Sunday school and spent hours after every service eating doughnuts at coffee hour and playing tag in church playgrounds. I watched my mom as she worked to go from a spiritual parishioner to a divinity school graduate to an ordained priest. 

When I tell people, specifically New Yorkers, about my mother’s story and my faith, their eyes will routinely widen and their body language will change. “Oh . . . you’re Christian,” they’ll say, before they half-jokingly add, “better not talk about politics with you.” Many non-Christian Americans view Christianity as a stagnant faith, thinking that conservatism and steadfast traditionalism dictate how Christians act. This is an accurate depiction of some Christians’ spirituality, but in my denomination, our interpretation of scripture often leads us to progressive views on moral issues. Starting with Henry VIII’s divorce and continuing with today's regular ordination of LGBT and women priests, pushing the envelope is an Anglican/Episcopalian pastime. This age-old practice has mainly manifested itself in the form of expanding our horizons to spread love and inclusiveness to everyone, meaning a heavy emphasis on ministering to people of all faiths and backgrounds and a focus on social justice work. It sounds simple, but by nature branching out to new places and people is difficult work. 

In my experience, religious tradition has been an outlet for adventure and discovery. Following my church's core values of social justice and compassion, I have travelled to places such as the Standing Rock Reservation in North Dakota to connect with and provide aid to people who, despite being American, have lifestyles that might seem foreign to your average New Yorker. At Standing Rock, everyone was so relaxed and easygoing that we joked that we were on “North Dakota Time,” a time zone where everything took place 3 hours late, and punctuality was seen as rude. Quite different from the expeditious attitude of New York City, where you can see people pulling their hair anytime the subway is delayed. 

However, it was not the long days of travel or the stark contrast between these places and my home that challenged me as a person. Instead, it was the complex relationship I had to these people, and the history regarding my ancestors’ role in the disparities that separated me from them. It was hearing the heartbreaking stories that these people shared so freely and kindly and humbly. At Standing Rock, I learned about the modern efforts to preserve the Lakota Sioux language after hundreds of years of Christian missionaries’ forcing the natives to assimilate and learn English. I also learned about the history of displacement and unequal distribution of fertile farmland between the natives and white settlers. As a white Episcopalian, I felt guilty of these crimes. Discussing modern reservation dynamics and causes of poverty with Sioux Christians, and hearing the damage that White Government continues to inflict on them, added to the weight I felt on my shoulders. I was not responsible for the injustice, but sitting there listening to the pain in their stories, I could not help but frantically search for solutions to the seemingly endless and complex problems.

As I sat in the dirt at the Wacipi trying to process this information, I felt completely overwhelmed. The complexity of the issues was mind-boggling; there were so many causes and influences and barriers to fixing the issues the Sioux faced. I had delved deep into the unknown, an entirely different place than the city streets and the comparatively simple life I lived. Traveling to “the rez” was an eye-opening experience. Growing up with a good education and routinely reading newspapers, I had always thought I had a solid understanding of what life was like in other places. My trip to North Dakota helped me to see that the world is vast and complex, not small and simple, and that to understand it will require venturing into the unfamiliar. 

Unique experiences that pushed my boundaries, such as mission trips, brown bag lunches, Interfaith Thanksgiving Meals (one of which was the first time Christians, Jews, and Muslims had congregated in downtown Manhattan since September 11, 2001), and marching on Washington have changed me in countless ways. These are all examples of activities in which I would not have participated if it were not part of my faith and tradition to help other people, or my responsibility as an Episcopalian Christian to better understand the world around me. I’ve learned to trust many members of the church and their perspectives, even when I cannot see myself in new scenarios. This positive pressure from other church members to expand and try new things has set a precedent in my life. If I am uncomfortable with the prospect of something new, but the people I trust support it, I just try it.

 At the last Palm Sunday, when the priest blockade prompted a U-turn and I was forced up to the altar, the choice was made for me no matter how much I wanted to make a break for the side door. I resigned myself to the task and sat down next to the other drummers. As time passed, I still felt out of place, but my uneasiness faded and I was able to find the beat. I was beckoned to do a drum solo and, miraculously, it went well. When I trusted the priests, things turned out alright.     

My drumming experience is important because it still influences me. If I find myself procrastinating on an essay despite warnings from teachers, or wanting to hang out with friends when my mom recommends I visit with family, I remember the drums, and I push my grievances aside to do what deep down I know I should. When we trust others for guidance, we often end up with positive takeaways we could not have foreseen. In my experience, I have church members to thank for many adventures. Their wisdom has been a catalyst for discovery. 

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Jack Miles shares how his Episcopalian church community has supported trying new things, discovery, and adventure.

Church: A Catalyst for Exploration

Ameena Naqvi

Humanity's interest in the unknown is universal and enduring. 

Humans are driven to explore the unfamiliar, discover new worlds, and push the boundaries of our scientific and technical limits. This great desire has been incited by our need to challenge what is possible for humans and improve the lives of our communities.

Growing up, the greatest explorers of my childhood ranged from Amelia Earhart and Neil Armstrong to Alice Liddell and Harry Potter. Their stories of exploration and limitless curiosity always intrigued me. They all searched for a sense of purpose to appease their restless curiosity about their surroundings. Yet despite these childhood role models, I was personally never inspired to test new boundaries and venture into the unknown. As a cautious person, I wasn’t particularly drawn to the idea of adventure or even interested in learning about human exploration.

However, these views began to change during my fifth-grade history class, when my teacher introduced a lesson on the history of aviation. While most of the class had commenced their usual twenty-minute nap, I listened intently as she began to describe the inventions of the Wright brothers.

“By the turn of the 20th century,” I remember her excitedly explaining, “most of the lands of the earth had been explored and eyes began to turn to the skies. The desire to fly is an idea handed down to us by our ancestors who traveled across trackless lands in prehistoric times.”

I remember imagining them looking up enviously at the birds soaring freely through space, at full speed, above all obstacles, on the infinite highway of the air. At that moment I was suddenly hit with a new sense of curiosity and wonder about exploration. 

My newfound interest began to increase as I listened attentively to my teacher’s description of Orville and Wilbur, two bicycle builders from Ohio who designed the world's first successful airplane. Their discovery began in 1903, when they found the magic formula for successfully undertaking the first controlled flight. The two brothers had surpassed all limitations and proven the remarkable capabilities of humanity. Their particular journey of innovation and how it challenged the impossible made me eager to start discovering on my own.

I sat there thinking that the lesson could not get any better, but it seemed this was just the beginning. My teacher then began to describe the rapid expansion of the aviation industry.

“As aircrafts became larger, more powerful, and more efficient, an age of exploration began and proved there were few limitations to the new technology,” she stated.

The 1920s and 1930s were filled with news of aviation pioneers and explorers, such as Richard Byrd, Amelia Earhart, and Howard Hughes. During the World War II years, aircraft became larger, traveled farther, flew faster, and climbed higher.

At the age of 10, I sat there enthralled, reflecting on the aviators’ relentless bravery and desire for discovery. It seemed to me that most of them had a shared commitment to venture into the perils of the unknown without any regard for the consequences. 

Being an extremely logical person, this didn’t immediately make sense to me. I had always been fixated on being realistic and rational, which prevented me from completely exploring the realms of adventure or creativity. However, when I learned about these visionary aviators, I slowly began to realize that an innate drive for exploration has been embedded in all humans, no matter the time or place. It challenges individuals to make new discoveries, whether for the benefit of their personal lives or society as a whole. 

While I had often thought of adventure as dangerous and unwise,  I slowly began to realize that taking risks is also a great opportunity to push for innovation. This is what inspired me to learn more about the unknown by delving into the field of space exploration.

My new interest was fueled as I began to read books and articles about the missions and discoveries scientists had made. I learned about events like the moon landing, which revolutionized science. I was fascinated as I learned about millions of Americans who had set to work on achieving what was deemed impossible. Their legacy has remained a major part of the International Space Station, and it has inspired astronauts from around the world to break past new boundaries. As explorers, the individuals who contributed to these revolutionary missions were all hoping to improve the knowledge of society as a whole. They were searching for ways to expand the boundaries of what is possible for humans.

My favorite quote about space comes from Russian pioneer Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, who stated, “The Earth is the cradle of humanity, but one cannot live in a cradle forever.”

This quote not only embodies the importance of exploring outer space but also showcases the value of creativity and curiosity as a whole. By embracing this ideology, scientists have revolutionized discovery through extraordinary achievements like the moon landing. Like past aviators, they have made lasting contributions that have changed our perception of the world. 

I once feared the unknown and put too much weight on the probability of failure and catastrophe. Through my experiences, I have begun to realize that risk-taking and iterative questioning expands our imagination, and thus our ability to further question and explore. The desire to learn about our surroundings existed within the Wright Brothers and the Apollo 11 crew, whose stories showcase the discoveries that result from adventure. Explorers delve into the unknown because they are constantly searching for innovation and ways to both improve their communities and expand the capabilities of humanity. This curiosity stimulates our creativity and, at the end of the day, is the way each generation creates its own universe and each individual shapes themselves as a person.

In a KidSpirit Big Question response, teen writer Ameena Naqvi delves into aviation and space exploration - from the Wright brothers and Amelia Earhart to Neil Armstrong and the International Space Station - to illustrate what drives us to seek out adventure, risk, and the unknown. 

A Conquest of the Skies: What Are We Searching for When We Explore the Unknown?

Uday Schultz

Forty years ago, Shenzhen was a cluster of fishing villages. Boasting only 30,000 inhabitants, the town was all but irrelevant, known only as a checkpoint on the road to Hong Kong. 

Today, the city is a destination in its own right, a place of 11 million people, one of a constellation of cities that tile China’s Pearl River Delta — arguably the most urban region in the world.

While this particular transformation is seen by many as exemplifying Asia’s growth, it also speaks to another global trend — urbanization. It has only been in this past decade that a majority of humanity has been found in cities, placing this drive to density among the fastest demographic transformations in world history. 

I am in that majority. In all my 17 years, I have never spent more than a week or so away from a city. Urbanism has thus become a given for me — something I see not only as beneficial but indeed as necessary, for I cannot imagine life without it. Of course, the question such a belief begs is whether or not urbanism is a good thing — to which I answer absolutely in the positive. 

Urbanism is in many ways the logical conclusion of human development. For eons, we exploited the world around us for sustenance, farming, and mining just to ensure the existence of the next generation. Now that industrialism has freed us from the burdens of such labour, our species can turn inwards, developing ourselves instead of our physical world, fulfilling the basic aspiration of life — personal progress. Adventure must no longer be sought externally in the pursuit of physical resources; we are now free to seek more intangible goals. Urbanization is but the demographic manifestation of that newfound freedom, for urban environments are those in which our human potential is maximized, our species’ powers of intellect best realized. 

To understand this paradigm shift, we must first appreciate the astounding inefficiencies present in the pre-industrial world. In the era before the steam engine, the business of over three-quarters of the world population was agriculture. Such levels are unsurprising, as really the only help our species got in providing for our continued existence was the muscular strength of our farm animals — and that is if our theoretical farmer was lucky enough to own them. Beyond that meagre assistance, the fate of our species quite literally rested on our own shoulders. What this translated into was dispersion. It goes without saying that agriculture requires the exploitation of relatively large amounts of land, preventing any density from forming — lest farmers be far from their fields, and we starve.

Industrialism changed this game profoundly. Through the indescribably large efficiency gains made through agricultural mechanization and chemical engineering, humanity was finally empowered to do more than sustain itself. Human capital was unfettered, and allowed to run amok — setting the stage for urbanism. 

This moment in world history — the one where we were freed from the plow — is crucial to understanding urban development. Given strong supply chains, humans could have dispersed into the infertile wilds, building chalets on the permafrost of Siberia with the knowledge that industrialism would provide for them. But, of course, such a bohemian exodus did not take place. Instead of pursuing the frontier, we instead rushed towards each other like filings to a magnet — for it is together that we as a species are at our best, our most effective. This rush to urbanize stems from the simple fact that density facilitates everything — from economic growth to social interactions to learning. 

Economically, urbanism’s effects are first felt through the very fact of density. Concentrating once-dispersed economic agents into a small area reduces all of their fixed costs, as supply chains are shortened, land costs are lessened, and integration between players is facilitated, essentially creating economies of scale on a macroeconomic level. 

In contrast to this power harnessed in overwhelming size, urbanism simultaneously encourages specialization. The sheer size and density of metropolitan markets allows specializers to rely on there being demand for their services. And, of course, as specialization increases, so does productivity, given that in a specialized paradigm, all of a producer’s capital (human or otherwise) is being spent on the improvement of practice in one small field, rather than being spread over many — a honing of our talent.

Urbanism then facilitates (in the broadest of terms) education. Beyond the obvious concentrations of knowledge and expertise that cities provide, the sheer density inherent in cities enables economic agents to nimbly react to others’ fortunes, expanding on their successes and failures. This ability to observe one another speeds up developmental processes — entities are less likely to make the same mistakes, and the process of progress is accelerated.

Density’s ability to capitalize on human ability extends beyond these dry, economic spheres, for almost inherently, cities become cultural foci. In theory, any significant and concentrated mass of people in one place creates a demand for entertainment, making institutions like museums and theatres viable while also supplying a wide talent pool. The existence of these establishments then theoretically induces greater demand for them, as people move to urban areas (partially) to take advantage of their existence — whether that be as an audience member or performer. The inherently varied mosaic of individuals and places that make up an urban environment also provides myriad stimuli for artists, allowing them to pull from a range of experiences and intellectual backgrounds in developing their work.

Similar processes inform cities’ human diversity. Historically, the sheer volume of humanity contained in any urbanized area rendered some level of diversity likely. Thus, as large-scale migration to cities began, novel populations frequently found ‘pioneers’ from whichever group they came in these urban environments, easing their assimilation into those areas. Today, with transportation cheap and fast, and barriers to entry (relatively) low, cities have become microcosms of the world at large, people attracted to them both for their containing like souls, and also for their radical diversity.

All of this is to say that humans are at their best, their most efficient, their most creative when in close proximity to one another. Urbanization is but a reflection of that fact. We are using our freedom from the labors of sustenance to harness human potential to its greatest, fulfilling our biological prerogative to further our collective well-being. In creating our concrete jungles, we are building the ecosystem to which we are best suited — one in which we need not be fettered with material concerns, but one in which we can seek progress and adventure in what makes us truly unique: our ability to think. 

Chiswick, Barry R. and Paul W. Miller. “Where Immigrants Settle in the United States.” Bonn: IZA, 2004. http://ftp.iza.org/dp1231.pdf.

Grigg, D.B. “The World's Agricultural Labour Force 1800-1970.” Geography, Vol. 60, No. 3 (July 1975). https://www.jstor.org/stable/40568423?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents.

Sala, Ilaria Maria. “Shenzhen – from Rural Village to the World's Largest Megalopolis.” The Guardian, May 10, 2016. https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2016/may/10/story-of-cities-39-shenzhen-from-rural-village-to-the-worlds-largest-megalopolis.

Spence, Michael, Patricia Clarke Annez, and Robert M. Buckley. Urbanization and Growth. Washington, DC: The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development / The World Bank on behalf of the Commission on Growth and Development, 2009. https://siteresources.worldbank.org/EXTPREMNET/Resources/489960-1338997241035/Growth_Commission_Vol1_Urbanization_Growth.pdf.

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Uday Schultz explores how urbanism represents humanity's adventurous search for progress, new ideas, creativity, and inner growth.

Turning Inwards

Maya and Sofia Mesh

Dark skin sprinkled with beauty marks
Four-feet-eleven-inches but taller, 
Immensely taller, than her five-foot-six wambras,1
Who walk behind her carrying bags, in her shadow. 

We wonder if she’s aware of her forgiving sweet aura 
Her aura which draws many near
We wonder if she is still scared 
Scared of the great unknown.

When she walks toward the sand-colored wall, her hunch is noticeable 
Curved and overbearing but entirely her own. 
She gets up too fast from the Spanish benches and starts to limp
But shoos away our helping hands, pride consuming her.

We wonder how her stories have evolved over the years 
We wonder about the original versions of the edited ones we still hear 
We wonder about her river of acceptance
The river that has the potential to grow into an ocean. 

The columns dedicated to the lightning god
Lay crumbling behind her loud purple shirt 
The frozen Gargoyles lose their staring contest with her 
For they cannot face her serious stare for too long. 

We wonder if she will stick around to watch us embark on similar journeys 
The ones filled with love and hardship, hope and silencing sorrow
We wonder if we will inherit her immeasurable resilience 
The kind that leaves us dumbfounded. 

When she walks she only looks back to see if we have fallen behind. 
Sometimes it is hard to keep up with her 
For the steps she takes are larger than life,
For the steps she takes are larger than ones we ever could.


In a KidSpirit poem, teen poets Maya and Sofia Mesh reflect on the brave life of their grandmother. 

The Largest Traveler

Megan Kelleher

Put simply, Into the Wild is a gripping cinematic snapshot of the life of a young man trying to navigate a world in which having full pockets is more impressive than having full lives.

When Jon Krakauer’s nonfiction international bestseller was published in 1996, it became an instant hit, seamlessly integrating itself into high school and college curricula, and remains exceedingly popular in the genre of survival literature. The 2007 film adaptation, written, directed, and co-produced by Sean Penn, is a re-telling of Christopher McCandless’s astonishing story.

Set in the 1990s, bright-eyed, charismatic Christopher McCandless, played by Emile Hirsch, graduates at the top of his class from Emory College with the intent to earn a law degree from Harvard. Despite his seemingly idyllic life as an upper-middle-class white male, Christopher struggles immensely with finding “his place” in the world. Having everything (money, college education, a “stable” job lined up) feels like having nothing for Christopher McCandless: he has fallen victim to the vicious cycle of materialism and cannot escape even with his awards and accolades. Frustrated with both society’s expectations and his family’s materialistic nature, Chris makes a rash decision to cut up his credit cards, donate the majority of his life savings to charity, and burn any spare dollar bills. After Chris destroys every remnant of his consumer-driven lifestyle, he resolves to leave his friends, family, and worldly possessions behind in pursuit of a more minimal lifestyle.

Christopher McCandless aspires to lead a life away from materialism. This glorification of McCandless’s transition to the hitchhiker life is particularly striking when one recognizes the privilege that lies behind being able to own decadent belongings, let alone make the choice to live without them. As the film progresses, McCandless encounters people along the way who explain they are not looking to make a social statement about the superficial tendencies accompanying American society, but have no other option than to live the way Christopher dreams to live. Chris has the world in his hands, yet his travel acquaintances see the world as just out of reach. Here is where I believe Krakauer and subsequently Penn so perfectly capture an “adventurous spirit.” Krakauer’s and Penn’s depictions of spontaneity and desire are relative to the spirit’s personal experience. The juxtaposition of McCandless, who can decide his fate, those other travellers, who have their fate decided for them, adds a sense of depth and complexity to a concept like adventure. I have always imagined going on expeditions throughout the world and staying at the world’s most beautiful areas, all of which requires exorbitant amounts of money. Into the Wild contradicts my original belief by showing how, despite the fact Christopher had the money to take all these grand vacations, no amount of money allowed him to satisfy his hunger for happiness and freedom.

Throughout the course of the next two years, Chris attempts to stitch together a makeshift family out of the people he meets, and this patchwork family really made me reflect on my own goals and experiences. As a junior in high school, I have been obsessing over college and how to be successful once I graduate, but I have ignored the fact that I go to school with some of the most fascinating people I will ever encounter. There are so many adventures that I might be missing out on because I am caught up in planning for the future, as opposed to living in the present. We live in a society where an enormous amount of emphasis is placed on money, and success is measured by the number of digits on our paychecks; however, Chris’s story showed me that success means different things to different people. Chris was once miserable because he only went through the motions of what society deemed would and should make someone happy. Once Christopher chooses to do something that he thinks will help him thrive, he feels more “successful.” In other words, society has always told Chris that if he has a ton of money he will prosper, but in the end, it is turning away from money and doing things he loves (i.e. meeting new people and exploring the wilderness) that makes him happiest.

Overall, I gave this film 4 out of 5 stars. Visually, the individual shots have beautiful angles and perfect lighting, but I feel that the choppy cuts from scene to scene force viewers to arrange the timeline of the film in their heads. The lack of fluidity with transitions takes away from the build up to the story’s ending. With cinematography being the only drawback, the movie as a whole is a one-of-a-kind story with a motivating meaning that forces us to consider our definitions of happiness and contentment. Chris is neither villain nor hero, reminding the audience how no human is an angel or a devil. This multi-dimensionality of Chris’s character made me feel a personal connection to his situation: all he is really trying to do is find the appropriate balance between happiness and attachment to monetary success. Emile Hirsch (Christopher McCandless) is incredibly convincing; his commitment to mastering this complex role using subtle body language and conveying visceral reactions truly brought me along on Christopher’s rollercoaster of emotion. 

Hirsch’s astonishing performance, coupled with the dramatic Alaskan setting, humanizes the film, allowing the raw intensity of the story to come to life. Although the profound, vivid content may be intended for mature audiences, I firmly believe that showing young kids that no amount of money can buy happiness has the power to open youth’s eyes to the positivity and passion we want to be cultivating but usually aren’t. Adventure is out there and has the potential to show us who we are and who we want to become; all we have to do is be courageous enough to look for it.

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Megan Kelleher gives her take on adventure in a review of the film Into the Wild.

A Wildly New Take on Adventure

Lasya Panchagnula

They ride on paper planes
Green paper bills
I ride in a metal car
They fly through the sky
Doing somersaults, barrel rolls, and loops
Things I’ve never heard of

I work during day, building a tower
To reach the highest branch in the tallest tree
To build a house
To start a family
My dreams plagued with worry
My work plagued with hope

My mouth filled with the taste of copper
I’m sick, I’m sick of metal
Look up at the sky as high as their planes
The tree ominously stands
Fading from my view as I bend back down

They’ve been flying all their lives
Sickening crashes, they’re used to
Another plane always ready
But I’ll be doomed if my tower falls

My tower high and proud
But it’s nothing to the pilots
I place the last brick
Walk up the stairs
Climb up and up and up
My fellow ant sized friends building their own towers
The paper plane pilots whoosh around me
And I fear I might fall off

Once I’m in this scenery
High from the euphoria
Air blowing deliciously
Filling my crazed appetite
I can’t help but feel jealous
Of the paper plane pilots
Whose life was never about making towers
Their ravenous appetites subjects to the most beautiful of scenes
Instead of metal, like me
I may be stronger
My metal heftier
But paper rules this world
The pilots swift as the bills themselves

And as I reach the top
I see a paper plane pilot
Already nestled in the leaves
That were supposed to be my home

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Lasya Panchagnula shows us the sense of adventure, risk-taking, and bravery, and defiance needed by everyday people to build a life in modern society. 

Paper Plane Pilots

Raavee Tripathi

A very common line in many eulogies is, “They will not be forgotten, and they shall live forever on in our hearts.” 

A few ideas from Mexican culture revolve around this concept. For example, the final (and third) death of a soul is when the last memory of that soul fades from the living world. This is probably the origin of Dia de Muertos (Day of the Dead), a festival that celebrates remembering our deceased loved ones and treasuring our living loved ones, too. 

Set in Santa Cecilia, Mexico, during the Day of the Dead festival, Coco is a 2017 animated film produced by Pixar Studios that redefines relationships, adventure, and color. 

Directed by Lee Unkrich and co-directed by Adrian Molina, the movie begins with a musician leaving behind his daughter and wife to pursue music, only to never return. Enraged and brokenhearted, the musician’s wife bans music in the family. This continues for generations, then along comes Miguel, the great-great-grandson of the aforementioned musician. Miguel is an inquisitive and talented 12-year-old boy who dreams of following in the footsteps of local hero and musician Ernesto de la Cruz. Paying no attention to a ban on music that he thinks is rather trivial, Miguel enters a talent show against his family’s wishes. Due to a queer turn of events, he is accidentally transported to the Land of the Dead, where he meets his ancestors and a skeleton named Hector.  In order for Miguel to get back to the land of the living before dawn, he must get a blessing from one of his ancestors in the Land of the Dead. His great-great-grandmother Imelda offers him a blessing on one condition: that he will forget music forever. He refuses and runs away. Here the adventure begins. 

The “spirit of adventure” is a very commonly used phrase for an exciting or very unusual experience, where the outcome is totally unknown. Miguel goes through several challenges, not all with wanted outcomes. He sails through these obstacles, focusing mainly on his goal: music. Miguel chooses to take risks because of his overpowering love for music. Often we, too, take risks and set out on adventures because our love for something puts us in unexpected circumstances. I believe that idea is what binds this movie and all adventure together. Miguel is driven by his love for  music, while others may be driven simply by the thrill of adventure.

Characteristic to Disney, Coco features a lot of music, but the rich animation and palette really stand out in this one. The bright yellows particularly captured my attention, and somehow, skeletons clad in colors are not scary but possibly even cheerful. The colour yellow dominates the entire movie, appearing as fiery gold petals of the Mexican marigold. This flower is also called la flor de los muertos (flower of the dead) sometimes, because it is thought to attract the souls to offerings and lead them to their family homes. These flowers are traditionally placed on tombs and all the way leading to the ofrendas (altars for the dead).  A glorious swirl of  reddish hues adds a warmth that quite fits with the family theme. 

Leaving interpretation to the audience, Pixar depicts characters’ key traits by using certain colors around them. For example, Miguel is constantly surrounded by bright hues, whereas his great-great-grandmother, who is against his plan, has bits of frosty blue. 

The animation is spectacular and captivating. Pixar faced a problem with animating the skeletons, because skeletons do not move with the same physics as human bodies, and animators had to use software to make changes accordingly. The animation seems so natural that it is certainly hard to remember animation like that of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.

The music perfectly portrays the mood of several scenes, heightening their impact. Even though many of the songs are mostly in Spanish, the rhyming words (“Un Poco Loco”) provide a sense of the mood the song aims to create. Many sadder songs generally do not have an audible beat, but “Remember Me” merges a beat beautifully into the very simple lyrics that clearly convey the intended message. The music is extremely authentic and rich in terms of melody, mood, and beat. Unlike other movies, I didn’t wait for the songs to finish so the story would move on; I really enjoyed each song and could see the story progressing not only by what was shown on screen, but also by the notes and lyrics.

Coco has an all Latina cast, with Anthony Gonzalez voicing Miguel, Gael Garcia Bernal voicing Hector, and Benjamin Bratt voicing Ernesto De la Cruz. The actors all pour so much emotion into their lines that I forgot that all the animated characters didn’t have their own voices until I was supposed to write about it. 

The screenplay is quite well written. The dialogue is short and crisp, and most of the message is left to the music and the animation. There is an element of humor, too, and this makes the movie all the more fun to watch. Even the actions of the characters are often funny, making the movie enjoyable even for younger kids who might not be able to keep up with the dialogue.

I rate this movie four out of five stars because the storyline is magnificent, the animation is brilliant, and each of the characters’ journeys is carefully developed and shown. However, the ending is somewhat predictable and characteristic to Disney. 

I would recommend Coco to people of all ages. During the course of the movie, I laughed, sang (I hope no one heard me), cried, and most importantly, enjoyed. There was so much emotion interlaced with each dialogue and each song. Miguel does not try to hide his emotions at any point of the movie, and chooses to face death over a life without music. These are definitely characteristics that I would like to possess, in order to enjoy the adventures of life. I wonder, what would I do if I were in Miguel’s place? Would I choose to accept my fate, or venture out into the unknown in a bid to change it?

This movie taught me that the spirit of adventure isn’t solely in those who go bungee-jumping or deep sea diving, but also in every person who lets circumstance lead them blindfolded into the unknown. I’ll certainly remember that with the faint but steady thread of the things I love, I shall be able to undertake and emerge from such adventures. Sometimes, staying in the dark about the final outcome makes us enjoy each adventure more, especially the final adventure of life. 

In a KidSpirit Media article, teen writer Raavee Tripathi reviews the Disney Pixar movie Coco.

Adventures in Life and Beyond

Samarth Jajoo

“Somewhere between the bottom of the climb and the summit is the answer to the mystery why we climb,” says Greg Child, a renowned mountaineer, author, and filmmaker from Australia. 

The pace of modern life is such that it often keeps us from self-reflection; we move from one checkpoint to the other, something that gradually becomes a result more of habit than either passion or motivation. This summer, I decided that I wanted to take the plunge and pause. My father and I took time off from our workplace and school, respectively, having made the decision to go on a five-day long trekking expedition. It isn’t an activity I would usually do, which is exactly why I was determined to do it. It is something I would likely "put off for later," as I tend to do with several things in life. But it is this attitude that created an urgency in me: if I’m "putting off" everything, what am I even doing with my life right now, in this very moment?

The trek taught me how my privilege has been protecting me so far; I experienced a great discomfort staying in tents, without the usual luxuries of air-conditioners and electronic gadgets. I think, though, that if we are looking for real connectivity, perhaps we need to isolate ourselves from the humdrum of habit and do novel things rather than check our wifi connection. We need to consciously step out of our comfort zones and push our own boundaries. Like most evolution, this is a step-by-step process. It is a journey that requires not only resilience, but also patience.

Doing something new helps me realize that my identity as a person can't be defined by just a few interests or traits and that I'm able to challenge myself to push my boundaries. Doing things that I haven't done before lets me experience my own evolution, every single day. All of us have our comfort zones — they mostly consist of activities we've done a lot of before. Trying something new allows you to break fixed mindsets and build connections in your brain, so you can see from many different perspectives.

“The path to a growth mindset is a journey, not a proclamation.” This simple insight about mindset was put forth by world-renowned Stanford University psychologist Carol Dweck after decades of research on achievement and success. Dweck explains fixed and growth mindsets in very simple and easy to understand terms:

“In a fixed mindset, people believe their basic qualities, like their intelligence or talent, are simply fixed traits. They spend their time documenting their intelligence or talent instead of developing them. They also believe that talent alone creates success—without effort.” When you have a fixed mindset, you're so worried about failure that you don't put in effort and give up without even trying. Imperfections are shameful to those with a fixed mindset, because a lot of people think that success is about establishing superiority. 

“In a growth mindset, people believe that their most basic abilities can be developed through dedication and hard work—brains and talent are just the starting point. This view creates a love of learning and a resilience that is essential for great accomplishment. Virtually all great people have had these qualities.” Success in a growth mindset is about working your hardest to reach your personal best, despite imperfections. 

Failure can actually build a pathway to a growth mindset. Until a couple of years ago, whenever I faced criticism or when my teacher or parents pointed out my mistakes, I would get defensive and at times even averse to trying again. In grade eight, when I refused to attend a math session with my teacher because he had pinpointed my errors as an example to the class, I unexpectedly experienced a moment of transformation. My math teacher sat down with me to discuss the whole idea of constructive feedback and its benefits, and that’s when I began to see the immense value in applying feedback for self-improvement. It was like opening a door that showed me what could be beyond my perception of personal capacities and competencies. From then on I found myself often picking challenges that seemed out of my comfort zone and even unachievable. The more you embrace failure, the less likely you are to continue failing—every time you don’t succeed, there's one less thing that could go wrong the next time you try. In the words of Thomas A Edison “I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.”  

When I came back from my trek I thought about how I should slow down and take time to be amazed by things right in front of me. Many things which I would easily miss on a regular day, like a crawling snail, an innocent smile, or a waving hand, now came into my vision and landscape. I could see myself in a new light.

I believe it is way cooler to be the jack of all trades rather than the master of one. This way of thinking does not limit me to one path, and means I can merge multiple ideas and possibilities to accomplish something much bigger than one method alone ever could. Being an expert in one thing and one thing alone means we are less capable of drawing from multiple and diverse resources for problem solving.  This could also lead to lower confidence in solving everyday problems and consequently looking for help all the time.

Trying new things compels you to go ahead and try another idea, then another. It opens you up and creates a growth mindset, where you’re looking to expand yourself, and are willing to push your boundaries and do things that you haven’t done before. Benjamin Barber, an eminent sociologist, once said, “I don’t divide the world into the weak and the strong, or the successes and the failures . . . I divide the world into the learners and non-learners.” We as people can evolve and change very rapidly. Our personalities, skills, intelligence, and even mindset are not inherent traits—they're developed. Knowing this keeps me extremely motivated in whatever I do. I know that everything is learned, and thus that I can learn and do anything I put my mind to.

Dweck explains in her book Mindset that teaching a growth mindset creates motivation and productivity in the worlds of business, education, and sports. It enhances relationships. A growth mindset creates eagerness for learning and the ability to learn from failure. To test this theory, researchers asked a group of 4-year-olds to complete an easy jigsaw puzzle. The children were then given the option to repeat the same puzzle, or try their hand at a more difficult one. In this situation the group conformed to one of two mindsets: growth versus fixed. Those who chose to do the harder puzzle were the ones who had developed a growth mindset because the idea of repeatedly doing the same thing without learning anything new seemed absurd to them.  

A growth mindset is about being comfortable with getting out of your comfort zone and actively searching out challenges. Having a growth mindset means you are more likely to accept opportunities that come your way, explore the world, and discover new passions.

Building a growth mindset has allowed me to try lots of new projects and to follow my whims and fancies, chasing after ideas that only seemed like fragmented abstractions. I have been able to build a wider perspective, and even find new passions. I remember how strongly I once felt that there is only one way to approach a certain task or idea. As it turns out, there are so many, and the more deeply you acknowledge that, the more widely they’ll open up to you. In the mountains, my biggest epiphany was that I am just a speck in this universe. In our daily lives, our minds are usually filled to the brim with ourselves, but the ego really does need a check. This is essential not only to enable our practice of gratitude, but also to help us successfully overcome our own fixation with things by embracing new ideas. Trust me, once you decide to, it’s never too late to press the reset button. Nurture your spirit of adventure to fly to unknown shores and bring alive stories unheard of and experiences unfelt. Like Indian author and poet Ruskin Bond says, “I am still on my zigzag way, pursuing the diagonal between reason and heart.”

Dweck, Carol. “Carol Dweck Revisits the 'Growth Mindset.'” Education Week, September 23, 2015. https://www.stem.org.uk/system/files/community-resources/2016/06/DweckEducationWeek.pdf

Dweck, Carol. “What is Mindset.” Mindset. https://mindsetonline.com/whatisit/about/

Dweck, Carol. “Mindset for Achievement.” Mindset. https://mindsetonline.com/howmindsetaffects/mindsetforachievement/index.html

Popova, Maria. “Fixed vs. Growth: The Two Basic Mindsets That Shape Our Lives.” Brain Pickings, January 29, 2014. https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/01/29/carol-dweck-mindset/

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Samarth Jajoo explores the benefits of developing a "growth mindset" as opposed to a "fixed mindset," as revealed by the research of psychologist Carol Dweck.  

Pushing the Reset Button

Lucy Liversidge

And an orange August glow no longer lights neighborhood pavement

I'll stumble to a room beneath the surface

And nails, painted red, will find the switch

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Lucy Liversidge contemplates the deeper meanings of the changing seasons.

Fall Back

Karen Darke

The burning sun and dusty yawns of the landscape are otherworldly, far removed from the early autumn hues and dipping temperatures of my home in northern Scotland. Each year, during the second week of September, a collection of teams comes together in this desert town of Battle Mountain for the World Human Speed Championships. 

As you drive the dusty highway into town, a tall sign announces “Battle Mountain: Are you tough enough?,” as if the town slogan has been designed especially for this event. There is nothing for miles but dust and desert scenery, but this week the town is packed to the brim, every motel room full. The iconic arches of McDonald’s loom like a cathedral tower, an emblem of America. 

I’m with a team of engineering students from the University of Liverpool. They have spent two years designing and building a special bike. It doesn’t look like a bike though; it more resembles an egg on wheels. I am the female pilot. Each day this week, I will climb into the capsule with the sunrise and the sunset. The lid will go down, and I’ll be taped and sealed in. I will take the pedals in my hands, push hard on the giant gear to get the pod rolling, then have a five-mile strip of tar across a stretch of desert to crank the machine up to speed. There is no window in the egg. I’ll have a game console view of the desert highway, a tiny camera on top of the shell feeding to a screen the size of a mobile phone. The mission? To break the land speed record for an arm-powered vehicle. 

For a moment, I feel a mild sense of claustrophobia and wonder why it isn’t worse, given I’m squeezed and sealed into a dark pod, and about to crank up to speeds of 80 kilometers per hour along a desert highway. “How did I come to be doing this?!” I briefly think, before another thought chases it away as quickly: “Because this is your life . . . never a dull moment.”

As a young person, only in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the life I have now. I feel acutely self-conscious when someone casually asks me what I’m up to. “Oh well I’ve just raced a velocipede across the Nevada desert and broken the armpower land speed record, and next week I am off to India to cycle from the source of the River Ganges along to its sacred heart, raising money for the Spinal Injuries Association.” Even in my own head, the answer doesn’t sound real. If I look in on it, it seems more like a crazy dream, like I’m living ten lives in one.

“Blimey, it’s impossible to keep track of you,” my family often says, and I joke that I can’t keep track of myself. But it’s a lie. I have never been more on track with myself. More at peace with myself. More present in each place and moment.

“As long as my ass is moving, I’m happy,” has been my long-term mantra since being in a wheelchair. Many have judged that I am running from myself, from acceptance of being paralyzed in the rock-climbing accident I had at age 21. People seem to think that adventure numbs the pain. But adventuring is not about running away from myself. It does the opposite. At minus 30 in a dark tent in a storm in the middle of the Greenland icecap, dependent on your teammates and your strength of mind for survival, there is no such thing as avoiding oneself. A month into riding across the Himalayas, breathless in thin air and hungry from lack of food, there is no such thing as running. Swinging from a rock face a kilometer above the ground, dizzy with height and salty tears crusting in the wind, it is all about confronting yourself, your choices, and your fears. There is nowhere to run.

I am lucky that my life has been full of adventure and experiences that have acted like a “laboratory” for real life. Intense times, good and bad, help us learn. I discovered, lying in a hospital bed for months on end, staring at polystyrene ceiling tiles, that there are times in life when we can’t change who we are, or our circumstances, but we can always change how we think. We need to focus on what we have, and on what we can do, not on what we lack.

I have spent my life chasing “gold,” first as a geologist, and later as an athlete, finally winning a gold medal in the 2016 Rio Paralympics in handcycling. This was a momentous occasion, but not for the reasons you might think. It wasn’t momentous because of the joy or the glory or winning a gold medal, but because of the process. It broke me almost as much as breaking my spine. It took me a good while to recover my energy and motivation afterward, but it was worth it for the things I learned. I’ll share them here in case they are useful to you… 

- You can control your mind; it doesn’t have to control you. Whatever negative or unhelpful things your mind may be telling you, you can take control of your thoughts and choose to change them. Like changing a horror film for a comedy — just reprogram your mind.

- Tell your mind exactly what you want. Be detailed, descriptive, and positive, and bring your vision to life with words and images, either in your mind or on paper.

- Make self-belief so normal that everyone else believes in you too. If this is difficult (and I know it can be!), then “fake it until you make it.” Tell yourself positive things about your ability, even if you don’t believe it to begin with.

- Try, try, and try again. No one achieves their vision without commitment, determination, and daily effort. Make the effort pleasurable, even if it hurts, and never give up.

The real gold is inside of you, not in medals or rocks or any other form. I have learned that whatever adventure I am on, or whatever my vision or goals in life, I should always take very good care of my thoughts. I feed my mind with positive thoughts because they have the power to create reality and generate moment-improving and life-prospering emotions, feelings and actions.

“Your mind is a garden, your thoughts are the seeds.  You can plant flowers, or you can grow weeds.”

In a KidSpirit PerSpectives article, adventurer and author Karen Darke describes how she has conquered challenges and pushed her limits, from hand-cycling in the Nevada desert to winning a gold medal at the Paralympics.

Inner Gold

Adya Sarin

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Adya Sarin encourages us to think about adventure and bravery in a new light.

Adventure Redefined

Junyor Florentín

My name is Junyor Nicolás Florentín García. I am 17 years old, and I am from Coronel Oviedo, Paraguay. 

Coronel Oviedo has become a big city and a nice place to live, but, similar to other cities in my country, it is still very traditional and religious. Most people are not open-minded at all, which is why almost everyone thinks that the new is bad and that it is better to stick with the usual routine and our comfort zones. 

Why risk exploring or wanting to know the unknown? Why do the things that almost nobody does? Unlike many of those around me, I believe there is nothing better than having the desire for adventure, exploring what we do not know, and getting out of our element. Let me tell you, though, that I did not always have this point of view. I never thought that trying new things or getting out of the routine was a bad thing, but I was afraid to do it. 

That fear disappeared when I realized that I am not alone. First of all, I have someone who has always been there for me, supporting me and encouraging me to move forward. That someone is my mother, who has never stopped believing in me. Everything that I am now, and everything I will be in the future, is and will be thanks to her. I have also met many other people throughout my life who have shown me that being afraid to do something for the first time is normal and that it is an opportunity to overcome your fears and grow as a person. 

There have been many factors that have influenced my way of being and thinking, but I think the most important factor has been the people I know. I have learned countless things from those I have met. I have learned to appreciate everything I have already achieved, to never forget my origins, to not conform, to always look for the best in me and in others, to be more altruistic, to be more empathetic, to be better every day, but above all to never stop dreaming.

One influential community has been the Scouts, where my desire to explore the unknown and get out of my comfort zone has increased at the same time as my fear of doing so has diminished. As a Scout I have learned to be more independent, to form my character, to work with others as a team, to care about others, and to develop my leadership skills.

 Then, in 2017 I became a catechist, and I began to teach children between seven and eight years old at the church of my neighborhood. As a catechist I have learned to increase and strengthen my faith, which also helps me to trust that I will be able to overcome all the problems or difficulties that I may experience. In addition, I have learned to become more understanding and patient, and how to better convey my ideas, skills that are fundamental when you work with children.

Last but not least, I have been influenced by two opportunities to meet people from different places. In 2016 I lived with a group of exchange students for about a year. All left something positive in my life, but those who did so the most were two friends who are like the older brothers that I would have liked to have. With them I shared an endless number of adventures, points of view, and many happy and sad moments as well. More recently, I participated in the Youth Ambassador Program. As a Youth Ambassador, I had the opportunity to travel to the United States, where I had training in leadership, youth entrepreneurship, the development of community projects, and diplomacy. It was a very enriching experience. The most important and significant element was not only the training, it was also the people I met throughout the process. Among them were my host mom, who gave me her love and affection and made me feel loved in the same way that my biological mother does; my host dad, whom I admire and hope to be like when I become a father; and my host brothers, who opened their hearts and made me feel part of their family.

I strongly believe that people have been such a strong influence on my way of thinking because through knowing others, we can also know and discover ourselves. All of my experiences make it clear that this desire for adventure, to explore the unknown and try new things, is the best that we can have. Although I do not deny that it will be difficult sometimes, perhaps everything that is worthwhile in life is.

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Junyor Florentín describes how his friends and family have taught him to step outside his comfort zone, try new things, and embrace adventure.

Trying New Things and Exploring the Unknown

Virtual Explorers

During the KidSpirit Virtual Explorers project, four KidSpirit contributors from different parts of the world – who did not know each other beforehand – met for a series of video chats with the aim to connect authentically and go beyond the surface level identifiers that too often keep us from getting to know each other on a deeper level. 

First, the editors met in pairs and asked each other a series of questions in order to get to know each other’s interests, perspectives, and deeper aspirations. They discussed questions like, “What is your favorite class in school?”; “Do you feel your community supports your values and interests?”; “What spurs you to be brave, to try new things, and to step beyond your comfort zone?”; and many others.

After these one-on-one conversations, all four editors met on a video call and gave an in-depth introduction of their partners. Each contributor then wrote a reflection about the experience. 

The iridescent lights of the Hong Kong skyline stretched behind me as I waited for my call to connect. Suddenly, my phone lit up with the image of a curly haired British face, who immediately greeted me with a “Hey! My name’s Noah.” I took a nervous gulp, and tentatively repeated the greeting back. Why was I having this conversation again?

Oh, right. KidSpirit had contacted me a few weeks prior and asked if I wanted to participate in the Virtual Explorers project, an attempt to get teens from different countries, cultures, and beliefs to connect on a deeper, more meaningful level, by using a set of questions that would facilitate discussion beyond superficial platitudes. Eager to escape — at least temporarily—the homogeneity of my summer in China, I accepted the invitation almost immediately, but as I sat there, mind completely blank, I started to wonder if this was a good idea after all.

Thankfully, Noah, probably sensing my discomfort, took the lead, and in just a few minutes, we established a comfortable rapport. The topics of our conversation stretched far and wide, ranging from details about our families to hot button issues like climate change. Noah told me about his bustling home city of London, while I shared with him my experiences in the vast, metropolitan sprawl of Beijing and the quaint, suburban neighborhoods of North Carolina. We expressed delight over shared coincidences (our dads are both professors) and discussed our mutual love for video games.  We also spoke of the looming stress of college applications, and Noah shared with me his aspirations to go to school in America someday. 

Throughout the conversation, I found myself getting more and more comfortable. By the end, I realized that I wasn’t treating Noah like a stranger I had just met barely an hour ago. Instead, I was talking to him like a friend. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. It must have been a fluke, I thought, some bizarre mental state conjured up by a combination of sleep deprivation and jet lag from just flying to Hong Kong. 

But about a month later, when we met over video chat again, accompanied by the two other members of the project, Ameena and Megan, I didn’t talk to Noah the way I would talk to a stranger. In fact, I treated him exactly the same way as I did during our first conversation — like a friend. Our conversation this time was equally engaging; we were supposed to give a long, substantive introduction of each other, and I was pleasantly surprised when Noah remembered almost all of the relevant details about me. Ameena and Megan also contributed so much about their own cultures and experiences, and we quickly got past small talk to discuss deeper, more meaningful topics, such as the different problems surrounding teenagers and the importance of social advocacy. But as our discussion wound down, my question still remained: how could I have warmed up so quickly to someone I had just met?

As I pondered this question, I realized the actual circumstances of our meeting were incredibly similar to a famous study done by psychologist Arthur Aron. The experiment, dubbed “36 Questions to Love,” found that by asking 2 strangers 36 progressively more revealing questions, feelings of shared intimacy and closeness could be generated. In the same vein, the questions Noah and I asked each other created a common bond. I discovered that behind the layers of superficial differences we had, Noah was just a regular high schooler like me. We both liked movies and video games, were stressed about college applications, and lamented the terrible summer weather. Though I expected this project to highlight our differences, it ended up showing me that our similarities are what truly matter.

As I logged into the video chat account I felt both excited and nervous. I was told that I was to meet a young teenager named Megan from California. I was curious to hear about the “Cali lifestyle” and whether or not it adhered to the Hollywood stereotypes I had seen on screen. 

Within minutes the video chat started to flash, showing my soon-to-be friend Megan! 

I had been expecting forced discussions and awkward introductions, but instead what followed was a relaxed and pleasant conversation. I listened intently as she described her hometown, Pasadena, as well as her jam-packed summer. She told me about attending a writing camp at the New York Times, where she wrote food reviews and got to travel to different fashion districts. Megan then told me about her time in the international Oxbridge program, where she took a plane alone and explored the UK for the first time. She described how exhilarating the experience had been and how she had stepped out of her comfort zone. 

Megan also told me about her life and childhood in Pasadena. She said that California in itself was an incredibly liberal state full of innovation and many cultures. Megan described the countless attractions that existed throughout her hometown, including many ethnic restaurants that carried everything, from Mexican quesadillas to Japanese sushi. Through our conversation, Megan took me past the Hollywood-California stereotypes and instead painted a new picture of California as a unique and diverse metropolitan center. 

She then told me about her family and recounted her life as a middle child with two older sisters and one younger sister. I was fascinated as Megan described her experience in school, as it was so vastly different from my own. Megan also explained the importance of sustainability and its emphasis in California. Even when she was a young child, climate change was an issue that she was extremely passionate about. I was awed by her level of involvement in social issues affecting her community. The conversation stretched on for hours as we discussed a range of topics from high school courses to our favorite animals. 

After this call, we were reunited two weeks later, when our meeting included two boys named Noah and Nathan. As we all shared our backgrounds and past experiences, I was amazed at the level of connection that we shared. We lived in vastly different places that ranged from California to London, more than 8,000 km apart! And yet despite this mind-boggling distance, we all shared a common love for meeting people with completely different backgrounds and sharing our collective experiences. 

Overall, I had expected my virtual adventure to be slightly awkward and uncomfortable, but it was quite the opposite. This experience helped undermine preconceived ideas and stereotypes I had about certain places. Hearing stories about the childhood and life of Noah, Nathan and Megan broadened my perspective about the cultures and lifestyles that exist throughout the world. It taught me the importance of dismantling cultural stereotypes in order to fully understand the true lifestyles and values of different places.

In a collaborative KidSpirit Feature article, teen writers Megan Kelleher, Noah Langford, Ameena Naqvi, and Nathan Zhang embark on a journey to get to break down stereotypes and gain deeper understanding through the Virtual Explorers project.

Keys to Connection

What drives us to explore the unknown? How do new or challenging experiences transform our lives? Where is the border between comfort and adventure, and what happens when we cross it? Join young writers and artists on an expedition to understand the human impulse to break new ground. 

Dark Rose

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