Published February 2015

Copyright © 2015 Santa Cruz Writes in partnership withSanta Cruz County Office of EducationAll rights reserved by Santa Cruz Writesand the authors.

Teacher: Aron Conger

School: San Lorenzo Valley High School

Writing Project Assistants: Marcia Adams, Eric Forrester, Lynn Mooney, Ruthe Smith

Young Writers Program Director: Julia Chiapella

Editor: Sara Wilbourne

Cover Design: Justin Carder

Page Layout: Stuart Rodriguez

To Our Parents

Table of Contents

Foreword ... i

Introduction ... v

Christie Perez ... 1Danielle Boro ... 5Dylan Fries ... 9

Jade Chandler ... 11Theresa Bridges ... 15

Nick Salibi ... 19Dylan Bounds ... 23

Jessenia R. Ramirez ... 25Nolan Jameson ... 27Ian MacDonell ... 29Justin Schultz ... 33

Kurt Lambaren ... 37Lauren Walker ... 41

Madelynne Cope ... 45Michael Cremonini ... 49

Dante Corona ... 53Kasia Gniewosz ... 57Rosalinda Levy ... 61Mike La Capria ... 65

Ethan Chambers ... 69Dono Francis ... 73Logan Heinen ... 75

Sophia Dingman ... 79

Benyamin Lund ... 83Chase Hart ... 85Sam Keadle ... 89

Sam Schubert ... 93Andrew Erwin ... 95

Thomas Andres Chestnut ... 99Sotero Torralba ... 103Rachel Olmsted ... 107

Acknowledgements ... 111

i

Foreword

Threading between youth and adulthood, my junior year of high school was fraught with tension. It was a year

of transformation: my teenage awkwardness melted toward womanhood as I purchased contacts to replace my cat’s eye glasses, startling people with blue lenses over my blue eyes.

And I grappled with that big question, What do I want to do with my life? Even though I graduated valedictorian of my class, I grew up in a time and place where no one mentioned college. I knew nothing about SAT’s or admission requirements. A couple of my friends had signed up to enter a foreign exchange program after their junior year and, motivated by envy and desire, I decided I wanted that experience. Since it was something my family couldn’t afford, I worked full-time my senior year to transform the fantasy into reality.

The student writers of these essays walk the same precarious line I did, shedding childhood, wondering what the future holds, taking steps and missteps that inevitably propel them toward maturity.

Several students write about the responsibility learned from babysitting, as in the piece Stinky Kid. But one author, Dylan, discusses the irresponsible sitter to whom he was subjected, flicking me with guilt. I was that kind of sitter. An auntie at six, by age ten I was put in charge of nieces and nephews. I allowed my little niece to play unsupervised in an irrigation ditch. When I was twelve, I danced around with a friend singing, “Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees” while

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my nephew toddled down the block and across a busy intersection. Fortunately my nieces and nephews, like Dylan, felt no “need to play with fire.” But in Christie’s story she asks, “How can a high school student have the responsibility to care for a child’s life, but must be home before ten o’clock?” I had the responsibility, but no maturity or guidance—not a great combo platter, although the experience did cement the idea for me that I didn’t necessarily want marriage with kids.

As a retired English teacher, I inevitably drew a link between the essays and literature. The fine line walked by students conjured the tightrope of Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s untitled poem:

Constantly risking absurdity and death whenever he performs above the heads of his audience the poet like an acrobat climbs on rime to a high wire of his own makingand balancing on eyebeams above a sea of faces paces his way to the other side of day performing entrechats and sleight-of-foot tricksand other high theatrics and all without mistaking any thing for what it may not be

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For he’s the super realist who must perforce perceive taut truth before the taking of each stance or stepin his supposed advance toward that still higher perchwhere Beauty stands and waits with gravity to start her death-defying leap

And he a little charleychaplin man who may or may not catch her fair eternal form spreadeagled in the empty air of existence

The delicate acts in these pages teeter between complete honesty and awareness of audience. The students tilt this way and that as they pace the line of “taut truth.” Halfway through their junior year, they are endowed with the freedom of drivers’ licenses and yet restrained by rules. Sophia’s mother utters the code word “penguin” if a bra strap peeps from Sophia’s blouse. Sophia patiently understands that her parents “want to help me and protect me from the world for as long as they can.” But as Dylan bemoans, “If your parents don’t trust you, then you end up living in a box . . . .”

The students perch “on eyebeams,” between now and “the other side of day.” They chafe—as Christie says in her biography—“to begin life.” Yet, Madelynne despairs that she’s been so busy preparing for college and the beyond that she’s

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had no time for “self reflection; to discover who I am or what I truly want out of life.”

Behind and through every essay, one glimpses adult players in these stories performing their own “sleight-of-foot tricks.” Some arrive “at the head of the table” with little grace, like the “macho” guy in Embarrassed, But at Least I’m Not Bald who chooses to humiliate Mike, a bus boy, for a cheap laugh. Others perform brilliant “entrechats.” In From Father to Son, Chase captures the love of driving bestowed to him by both his father and stepfather. Both his dads “took risks,” allowing him to shift and drive as a child. We may shake our heads, but how can we argue with their choices when Chase writes, “I can’t drive a painting I create. A painting can’t scare me or send a chill up my spine.”

In Becoming an Adult we find another tribute to a successful father, a fiber-splicing technician who takes his son Andrew along on the job. “Some days I had to work for up to 12 hours in the heat of his bucket truck without many breaks or ways of cooling down,” Andrew writes. “I learned that having a job can be miserable.” Despite all this, Andrew plans to follow those meticulously spliced wires into the future.

The threading takes other forms as we age and from the vantage point of sixty years, I offer simply this: Felinghetti’s poet/acrobat imparts the secret of living. At sixteen or sixty we face the same task. Positioned precariously on the thin wire of now, we endeavor not to tumble back into the past, or to pitch forward in our “supposed advance/toward that still higher perch.” Beauty awaits. With each step, with each word, it’s our responsibility to catch her.

—Vinnie HansenSanta Cruz, California

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Introduction

We started this project while reading The Crucible. While we were working on our stories we moved on to

reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. In both stories we saw young people facing very adult situations. Using them as inspiration, we explored a situation where we had a taste of the responsibilities of adulthood and how we handled it.

At first, it was a bit challenging to understand the writing task, but after more explanation from our mentors and peers we were able to start writing. To come up with ideas for our stories, we drew upon personal experiences. We had to think about real events in our lives and challenges we had faced that related to the topic. At times it was difficult to come up with milestones from our past, but we found we could be inspired by group discussions and the ideas and experiences of our peers. In the end, we found that the experience of writing from the heart was a lot better than writing about something we didn’t care about.

The experience of writing these stories helped us learn to accept criticism from others. Group discussions provided us with ideas and allowed our peers to give us input. Writing was stressful at times, and we were pushed, but we liked thinking and writing about the responsibilities we have. We found it interesting to explore the responsibilities and freedoms of adulthood. In the end, we feel that writing these stories will be beneficial to our writing in other areas as well.

Our teacher, Mr. Conger, helped us throughout the process. He guided us through the different aspects of the writing process each week, such as imagery and how to

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write sentences that flowed together really well. He also set deadlines to keep us on track. He gave us advice about how to develop our ideas, and gave us written feedback correcting errors and explaining what to do. He helped us bring it all together at the end.

Our volunteer mentors brought in new ideas and perspectives to help us focus while writing. They allowed us to express our own opinions while guiding us in the right direction. They provided strong moral support and helped us through our struggles. They provided great feedback and really helped us explore our ideas. We may have been challenging at times, but they told us things that could drastically improve our writing. Perhaps the strongest lesson we learned was in storytelling; how to construct a narrative essay, rather than an expository one.

—11th grade American Literature studentsSan Lorenzo Valley High School

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Old is the New Young Christie Perez

The world today is complicated: adults act like children, and children act like adults. It is unfair that as a young

adult you can fight in a war, but in some states you cannot legally sit at a bar. There are many other confusing laws and traditions, but we are going to discuss something much less dense. Why can a high school student have the responsibility to care for a child’s life, but must be home before ten o’clock? Yes, you are working, and doing something useful instead of messing around and causing trouble…could it be society trying to control and limit a young adult? Society does not believe a high school student is as responsible as an adult.

People expect teenagers to work for their money. Working for my money was something I didn’t feel ready for, so I decided to start slowly and babysit. I soon realized that babysitting was a challenge. Every child is different; some do not go to sleep on time or do not stay fully distracted by the television…then you have to entertain them. It is a hard job with many ups and downs.

There are some great lessons when you babysit. One for instance: you always pull out the weird ridge things around

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the leg part on a diaper…or else you are in for a wild poop mess. To be honest, I really loved the job but one day I worked with a little boy who was allergic to everything. I was so scared that I would feed him the wrong thing and his face would swell up.

I realized that during the long hours I spend with these children, their lives are my responsibility. Parents trust a teenager to care, provide, and love their children for hours at a time. Maybe society is pushing teenagers too hard, but if they can trust us with a responsibility like that, why can I not be home later than ten o’clock? It’s a confusing question, but a reasonable one.

Some of the best times of my life are the times I spend hanging out with my friends on summer weekends. We go to the Boardwalk until midnight, sometimes running from the security since we know they will send us home. We are not doing anything wrong, and security knows that, but we look young, therefore they are required to ask for our identification. I understand this rule is meant to keep us out of trouble, but why can’t kids who look like they are doing something wrong be the ones who get sent home? This is a really big problem that society does not have time for. Kids are now growing up in an age where sneaking around and being shady is becoming common.

I work during the day or evening, which leaves later evening as my social time. On occasion, my friends and I go out even though we always have to leave early because of curfew. My parents do not listen to me when I try to explain that my responsibilities have helped me grow as a person, and that I do know right from wrong. Since they know us better then most, I think our own parents should make our curfew. I work at least once a week watching children, which

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means once a week I am developing new skills. There is an old saying, “Practice makes perfect.” How can I develop trustworthiness if I cannot practice what I have learned? Parents and society should start letting teenagers stay out later than ten o’clock because we will not be fully prepared for adulthood if we cannot practice greater responsibilities. If I can be responsible enough to care for a child’s life, then I should be responsible enough to stay out later.

Society controls humans with rules and laws. Keeping us grounded is not a bad thing, but there is a big difference between murder and curfew. Keeping a teenager enclosed and sheltered can be a bad thing: they won’t be fully preparing for the future. Letting a teenager out after curfew takes trust, and most teenagers are trusted with much bigger responsibilities, such as taking care of a child. Parents trust that we can feed their kids, bath them, and sometimes even change them. This is huge act of trust, but yet people do not believe we can care for ourselves and stay out a bit later. Society needs to suck it up, and look at how we can care for a child’s life, and thus we can fend for our own.

Christie Perez is 16 years old. She enjoys animals, working, and playing with animals. She is looking forward to college and to beginning life.

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5

Our Little AngelDanielle Boro

As young adults, we are expected to mature and start acting as adults. Although we are expected to act as

adults, we are not always treated like one. I experienced this when I was 16 years old: my twin sister and I were given the task of watching our house while our mom was gone on vacation.

While our mom was gone, she left us with a list of little chores to do every day. Being teenagers, our first thought was to get all the chores done first, so we would have the rest of the time to goof off. A day or two went by and my sister and I finished the chores and the tasks our mom had set for us. Every day after that, my sister and I had friends over; we made all the food we wanted, and we didn’t really have anyone to tell us what to do and what not to do. We were living the life of teenagers without parents for a week.

It was finally the last day before our mom got home. My sister and I were just finishing the last little bit of cleaning. I was on the bottom floor of our house, cleaning the bathroom, when my sister came running downstairs screaming. She yelled to me, “Danielle, I cannot find Smokey!

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You need to help me find him!” (Smokey was one of the youngest of our four cats.)

My mom was due to arrive home in about 45 minutes and Smokey was nowhere to be found. My sister and I looked in all the rooms of our house. We looked in the woods outside our house. We even walked down the street, shaking a bag of treats and holding his favorite toy. Eventually our mom pulled up while we were still outside searching for Smokey. She asked my sister what we were looking for, and we had to tell her that Smokey had gotten out and we could not find him. Our mom was pretty calm at first and was willing to help us continue to search for our cat. After two hours of looking, we still had no luck. Our mom was very disappointed and just walked down to her room and shut the door.

My sister and I felt really bad and tried to do anything we could to help find the cat. We put a dish of food and water outside our front door with his favorite toy. We waited a few days but nothing happened. Then one night shortly after that, I was in my room finishing up the last of my homework when I heard a loud shriek coming from the front yard. It was my mom, and she had Smokey in her arms; she was crying so hard she could barely talk. She had found Smokey in the turnout right outside the house. It appeared that Smokey had been returning home, but a car had hit him. Our little kitten turned into our little angel. After my mom had dealt with that, she had a long talk with my sister and me. She told us that if we were not responsible enough to watch over the cats, then we most definitely were not responsible enough to watch over the house. My sister and I took that very personally because after all, it was an accident. Everyone has accidents, even adults.

The next day, my mom walked into my room where she

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found us lying on my bed watching TV. She apologized for what she had said the night before. She told us she was just upset at the time, and she understood that everyone makes mistakes. Although ours led to the death of our cat, she assured us that everything would be okay.

Danielle Boro is a 17-year-old girl who enjoys playing basketball and going to the beach. In the future, Danielle is looking forward to pursuing her goal of becoming an elementary school teacher.

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BabysittersDylan Fries

It is unfortunate there are children out there that are thrown into adulthood at a young age. Hopefully they all end

up being normal people with a well-formed social life, but sometimes that’s not the case. Although adulthood comes with a few pros, it also comes with some serious cons.

Being thrown into the pool of adulthood early creates a ripple, which dramatically affects a child’s future. For instance, when I was a small child I was at home alone most of the time because my father was a busy man. The person who was supposed to be watching me was an irresponsible person and didn’t know how to take care of a child. It was not my dad’s fault for having this person watch over me, it was the person’s fault for lying to him and saying he was totally trustworthy.

I look at this experience as a positive thing because I gained a lot of responsibilities early on. Now I know how to take care of myself. I can cook, clean, and do anything that needs to be done around the house. This is good because when I get older I will be able to take very good care of myself when left alone to watch the house.

When I look back on this and realize the risks of leaving

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a small child alone, it makes me feel grateful I was lucky enough not to have felt the need to play with fire or climb up something from which I couldn’t get back down. Both of these scenarios and many other potential dangers would most likely end in serious injury or maybe even death. For instance, when one of my friends was over, we came up with the genius idea of having a sword fight with incandescent light bulbs. At the time I was so young (six) that my brain did not contain the knowledge that those bulbs contained a lethal amount of mercury. I’m glad I was lucky enough not to have inhaled the toxic substance. This is a prime example of why sometimes babysitters aren’t exactly the best—or safest—option.

All in all, I’m very happy with the way life is coming along, regardless of the fact that I could have died many times as a small child. Just let me say that none of these things are my father’s fault. If he had been watching me instead of that babysitter, things would have ended completely differently. Now, because of those long workdays and extra work days with long hours, my father got a promotion and no longer needs to work as much. In the end everyone is happy.

Dylan Erik Fries is 16 years of age. He likes to dirt bike, snowboard, and play video games. He also enjoys playing with circuit boards and building computers. Dylan is looking forward to becoming a member of the American Airborne Infantry as well as going to community college.

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Stinky KidJade Chandler

My sister Winnie is a stinky kid. She is seven years old and very stubborn. I have been babysitting her for

about four years now, on and off. She has been a crazy kid since day one. As a young child she used to hate showers; she would go a good week without showering. My sister is definitely a unique kid; she would rather roll in the mud than swim in a pool, and she prefers catching bugs over playing with Barbies.

One day about two years ago, my dad and step-mom Shea decided to leave Winnie with my sister Skye and me for 10 hours because they had to go to work. They also left us a list of things they wanted us to do while they were gone. As I read down the list, I found many simple tasks like washing dishes, sweeping the floor, cleaning our rooms, mopping, vacuuming, etc. All the things at the top of the list seemed pretty easy, but as I kept reading down, I found that the very last thing was to give Winnie a shower. At that point Skye and I both knew we were in trouble.

After knowing we had to give her a shower, we started with the easy things on the list. Skye washed the dishes and

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vacuumed the living room. I had trouble trying to get Winnie to get started cleaning her room and brushing her hair. I knew it was going to take her awhile and that it would be rough to wash her rat’s nest that she calls hair. I then started with sweeping and mopping. After I finished with the easier chores on the list, I went into the bathroom and laid towels down on the floor because I knew what I was getting myself into. Winnie was still cleaning her room. I called Skye into the bathroom to help me figure out how I was going to attempt to give her a shower.

When the shower runs in our house the sound of water hitting the shower floor echoes through every room in the house. After starting the shower, I went into Winnie’s room to find her, but found myself looking into an empty room. I knew she was hiding from me, so my first thought was to look under her bed and, sure enough, there she was. I persuaded her with some candy to come out, then I sat her on her bed and explained to her what was going to happen; she agreed to make it as easy as possible. We walked into the bathroom. At first she hesitated at the sound of rushing water, but I told her if she got in, I would make her cookies. With this promise she jumped into the shower, not fully in the water, but still in. Maybe this was going to be easier then I thought. Next I asked her to get her hair wet and she did, although she didn’t do a very good job of it so I thought I would help her out. This is where I went wrong. As I was trying to help her, she instantly thought there was water in her eye and jumped out screaming; Skye and I tried to grab her and she did not like that, so she bit Skye and ran out of my arms. We chased her down the hallway, slipping and sliding from all the runoff water leaving her hair, into the living room where she hid behind the couch. She refused to get

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back in the shower so Skye and I gave up.Later that night when my dad and Shea got home we

explained to them what had happened. Shea didn’t seem to care because we got all the other chores done. My dad on the other hand was pissed that Winnie didn’t get a shower. I tried to explain to him everything that happened and he just got mad at me. For what reason?

I find it really hard to take care of Winnie because my dad expects me to do it without disciplining her. This approach does not work because she does not listen to anyone but my dad, thus he would not understand what it is like to deal with a trouble child. He only sees her as an angel.

Jade Chandler is 17 and a junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. She enjoys going for hikes in the forest with her dog Ruby and walking on the beach. She also enjoys drawing and photography. Jade wants to go somewhere out of state to college to study photography.

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My Personal Achievement Theresa Bridges

I think that growing up is hard. It’s a big change not only for you but for everyone else around you as well. When you have been viewed as the “little sister” for as

long as you can remember—or just the “youngest” all of your life—it is hard to get that new freedom of being a young adult. Is there a switch that goes off making you an adult? Do you automatically get the respect of an adult? One of the hardest parts of giving a young adult his/her rights (and especially for parents) is the process of letting go. It’s a scary thing to do, to let your child make grown-up decisions. The fear of letting go tends to make parents tighten their grip.

In my case, I have three older siblings with whom I am very close; we tell each other everything even though we have an 11, 10, and seven-year gap between us. They have already gone through experiences with getting their first cars, first jobs, first boyfriend/ girlfriends, etc. They had each other as they went through these experiences, but now they have moved out and have their own families. I still can go to them with questions but I don’t always have a person my age to call. They made these experiences look so easy—like the freedom

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of being a young adult just came to them—but now that I’m that age, I realize it’s not that easy.

An experience I had trying to prove I was growing up was telling my family about getting my first job. I remember talking to them at a family dinner. I was super- nervous. I was thinking, “What will they think? Do they think I’m mature enough?” I wanted to sound confident and mature but it came out unsure and unsteady. I said, “I think I want to get a job.” They all looked at me and gave me a look like, “Aww, that’s cute.” I knew right then and there that I wanted to prove them wrong, get a job, and keep it.

On the outside, I wanted to look like I knew what I was doing but on the inside, I felt like I was suddenly expected to know exactly how to do all of these grown up things. I really didn’t know what a job interview would be like. I wanted to ask my mom a million questions about what to expect, but she already seemed unsure about me getting a job. I wanted to prove to my family I could do this, so I took the initiative and did the best I could.

Going into my first job interview was intimidating. I had no idea what to expect. I remember going into a little office in the back of the store and sitting there, waiting. I remember the silence of the room made the ticking of the clock pound with every tick. I couldn’t sit still; I kept repeating in my head, “You go to SLVHS; you are 16 years old; you’re smart, trustworthy and kind,” and then the manager walked in. She shook my hand and sat down. I expected her to be really strict, but she wasn’t at all. She greeted me with a smile and a friendly tone. I felt like a big weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. A week later she called and told me I got the job. I was so happy.

It was such a rewarding feeling… I had accomplished

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something I had really worked for and wanted.

Theresa is 17 years old and a junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. She likes to play soccer and hang out with friends. After high school she wants to go to college and travel.

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Decisions Nick Salibi

Time is narrowing down for me to make a decision that will have a huge affect on the rest of my life. Therefore,

it is stressful because I do not know what I want. I am getting a lot of pressure from my family to get into a good college, specifically Cal Poly. I would love to go there; it is my goal. Unfortunately, right now my GPA is not high enough for a college like that. I have never been faced with a decision like this. This is my first real adult decision and it will have a huge impact on the rest of my life.

I have two older brothers who were both very successful in high school and are equally successful in college. My oldest brother attended Cal Poly, graduated, and now has a well-paying job. My other brother is currently going to Cal Poly and is doing well. He is most likely going to end up graduating and getting a good job, like my oldest brother. Now the pressure is on me to do well in high school and get into Cal Poly. The bar is set very high. It is something I am not quite sure I will be able to achieve. I am worried that if I cannot go there, I will disappoint my family.

I get pressure all the time from my family to get good

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grades. I do not want to disappoint them by not being accepted into a good college. I do my homework, I rarely miss class, and I go to teachers when I need help. I currently have a C in a class. The rest of my grades are A’s and B’s. But that one C is holding me back and my family is upset. I am not happy either, even though the rest of my grades are A’s and B’s. That one C is holding me back to the point where my GPA would not be high enough to get into Cal Poly. I am trying my best. I even have a tutor but I am still struggling. It is holding me back from making a decision. If it was an A or a B, I could focus on where I want to go and what I want for my career. Since it is a C, I have to worry about getting that grade up before making that decision. It is a lot of stress.

I recently had a family dinner with several of my relatives. They are very impressed with the success my brothers have had. They talk to me a lot about them, and how proud they are of them. Their questions are, “Where do you want to go?” or “Do you want to go to Cal Poly like your brothers?” Technically, it has become an expectation for me. My uncle even said to me with a strange smile on his face, “Congratulations on getting into Cal Poly, Nick!” I was not quite sure what he meant, but I could tell by the sarcastic smile on his face that what he really meant was, “You’d better get into Cal Poly.” I have come to the realization that after that comment, if I do not get in, I am going to dissatisfy many.

I do not have much time left to make a decision. My family does not realize that if I cannot get into Cal Poly, it is not the end of the world. There are still several other options.

Although they may not be happy with those options, it is not my concern. My biggest concern is my happiness, not theirs. It’s my decision. It’s my life. Where I go to college will

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ultimately affect me more than anybody else.

Nick is a 16-year-old junior at SLVHS. He plays football, basketball, and volleyball. After high school he would like to attend a four-year college. He does not yet know what his major will be.

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@$%# HappensDylan Bounds

“Do as I say, not as I do.” It’s a backwards way of thinking to most people and I agree. Whenever I hear people say this, it’s a parent saying it

to their kid. It’s not like it is a really bad thing, but it still happens and doesn’t stop kids from doing the wrong thing. If anything, it makes us more curious. I always hear adults say. “Don’t drink” or “Don’t smoke,” but right when the kid turns his or her back the adult takes a shot and smokes. When we call them out for being hypocritical, they say, “Oh, I’m older than you and more experienced.” But parents don’t understand that their kids have seen and experienced many things in their lives already. Age is just a number set to define a person by how long he or she has been on this planet.

An experience I’ve had where I have to act like an adult is this: one time my parents left me and my brother home alone because they thought we were going to be responsible and not mess the house up, and we didn’t. We had some friends over, but we stayed on the back deck and made sure no one went inside and messed up the house. We weren’t sure if they were testing us for future reference, so we figured it

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was better to be safe then sorry. If something in the house had been messed up, my dad would’ve been pissed and disappointed since trust is everything to him. He always says trust is easy to lose but incredibly hard to get back, and that’s very true.

My parents trust me and know I’m responsible enough to make the right choices and be smart about it. If your parents don’t trust you then you end up living in a box and doing nothing besides sitting at home in your room. You have got to be responsible and trustworthy to get what you want. It would suck to have your parents not trust you to make responsible decisions.

In conclusion, have your parents trust you so you can have more freedom and do more fun things in life. Don’t live in a box. Get out and do stuff.

Dylan Bounds is a 16-year boy who likes to kick it with friends and skate. In the future he plans to move to Alaska and work on a fishing boat then move to Bali for a few years and have good experiences.

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The Truth About Growing UpJessenia R. Ramirez

As I was growing up, my parents had expectations that I as a child had to meet. With a strong belief,

my parents wanted me to become a young adult, mature and responsible…but my parents do not give me any of the freedom that comes along with being a young adult. My parents expect me to get a job and take on all the responsibilities that come with it. The one problem is that my parents will not let me use the money that I earn to buy the things I want.

Last summer my parents forced me to get a job so I could help pay for my travel with the softball team. I applied to Whitings Food Service, a family-owned business on the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk that owns 22 concession stands. I got the job as a lead at Dip-n-Dots. There I was at Dip-n-Dots the whole summer with no money, no free time…. It was kind of a bummer to have my whole summer consist of softball, work, and AP summer assignments. It did not give me the time to do the things I wanted to do, such as going to the Boardwalk and riding all the rides, going to the beach, hanging out with my friends, and just enjoying time to myself.

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Nonetheless, it was well worth it to earn my own money. Little did I know that my parents were keeping my checks in their saving accounts, and I had no control over my money. As the summer went on and my parents were still taking my checks, I came to the conclusion that I needed to have a stern talk with my parents about this dilemma. As I was trying to explain to them why I deserved the money I had earned, my parents were just not understanding me.

I am finally learning to take on responsibilities and my parents still are not listening to me. Parents often forget how hard it is to be a “young adult.” In an ideal world, I would be happy if my parents were more open to new ideas and would listen to what I have to say.

Jess Ramirez is 16 years old and attends San Lorenzo Valley High School. She is part of the volleyball, basketball, and softball teams. She is looking forward to attending Tennessee University in the fall of 2016.

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ImpossibilitiesNolan Jameson

Have you ever been held to standards you couldn’t meet? I know I have, as athletes are constantly being held to

nearly impossible expectations. Ichiro Suzuki, a short all-star player from the New York Yankees is expected to perform the same as the hard hitting, 6’5”, 250 pound first baseman David Ortiz from the Boston Red Sox. I was held to similar high expectations as a kid. Coaches, parents, and sometimes their peers often hold young athletes to expectations that are almost impossible to meet.

Back when I was in Little League, my dad had high expectations of my pitching abilities. He held my breaking ball to a college level standard. I practiced almost every day; we built a pitchers’ mound at home so I could throw more bullpens with him. When we weren’t working on my pitching, we were working on batting or fielding. I remember how tired I was after every practice. The sweat would drip down my forehead until I wiped it off my brow with my sleeve. At times I was pushed so hard that injuries began to occur.

Young athletes who are pushed too hard often suffer serious injuries. Many pitchers often endure elbow injuries

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from throwing too much or throwing too many breaking balls. I suffered arm pain and pulled muscles many times, but I never let it stop me from practicing. Anytime my arm was hurting too badly to throw a bullpen, I would instead take batting practice.

Children are often pushed too hard in the classroom as well. With the pressure in school and the pressure for sports, students can easily become overworked and stressed. I have felt this stress throughout my entire life. Trying to balance good grades and sports is hard enough without factoring in social life, sleep, and trying to find some free time to relax.

Expectations and standards motivate us to work hard but may also cause injury or stress. Back when I was an 11-year-old all-star, my coach pitched me three games in a row; I pulled a ligament in my right elbow from overthrowing. The doctor said I couldn’t play any sports for months. As a result, I missed half of my all-star season. When I was finally cleared to play again, it wasn’t the same as before, but luckily, after a couple of months, everything felt back to normal.

Although it is important to be challenged and motivated, young athletes are often over-coached and over-stressed. This can cause injury or a lack in performance. Young athletes are often held to impossible expectations that only an adult would be able to accomplish.

Nolan Jameson is a 16-year-old junior who loves music and skateboarding. After graduating he wants to attend San Diego State.

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The StoryIan MacDonell

I can’t forget my parents until I know who they are. Being a child who is always rejected and not understood is

frustrating and makes me angry. I don’t expect most to know how hard life really is and was for me, but this is my story.

When I was about three I remember my mom and dad being really tall like a cartoon from Charlie Brown, but I don’t remember ever really seeing their faces. My dad had this thing of giving me “Extra” gum, and the gum with the animal wrappers. Inside our dark living room where it smelled of old cigarettes, my dad and I made a fort out of a white bed sheet, chairs and a grey couch. I would go under the bed sheets and try to make it as big as I could from the inside of the fort.

When the sheets fell and the fort was ruined, so was my life. The only thing I remember shortly after that, was a big black thirty-story building that was all shiny and reflective. It seemed to bring sadness to the city like a dark rainy day: this was where the forgotten go. I didn’t know what the building was for long time; it was the building for adoption. I still remember the smell of fresh ink and paint in the building, and there were cubicles and fake grey walls. On the 15th

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floor was a dark room and a dark corner where all of the sad and broken toys (like plastic multicolored trains with missing wheels) were. All were broken except one, like me, or so I thought. My brother and I played with the Hulk Hummer; together we would smash the front to dent it, and I’d only have to push a button to reset it.

I was immediately transferred to a foster home that consisted of all African Americans who didn’t understand how to treat me as one of their own. I constantly got in fights with the oldest son and always paid the price for it, even though I was the youngest and the smallest. No matter what day it was, I always got in a fight. I remember the times my brother and I would watch TV and we had to sit on the concrete. It was the coldest thing ever. The rugged steps were considered to be the best seat in the house so we had to take turns; however, the luck was never in my favor. The house was surrounded by dirt with one small grape tree in the backyard, and there was a big fence that blocked off the construction there.

Eventually I was old enough to go to preschool. There was a school very close to the foster house. Compared to the house, the school seemed very wealthy. I didn’t know what to expect but the school had green grass, which I had never seen before. Everything was white and smelled of fresh paper…there were even shiny floors. I couldn’t see over the front desk—everything was so big—I’d never been in a room so big with walls so tall.

There was a church across from our foster family’s grandma’s mansion, which was really big and expensive looking. Behind the church was a park, in which my brother was allowed, but I was not because I was too young. One day I dared to follow the older kids, and—long story short—I

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got caught and got hell for it. I had to sit on the floor facing the opposite way while everyone else watched a movie in the theater downstairs.

My mom had adopted me but I assumed I was being transferred to another foster home since the next change was so abrupt and quick. At the new house there were bunk beds that were super-warm and soft, waiting for us, and the house was warm and welcoming. But events later on occurred that were unfortunate: my brother accidentally stabbed me in the back of the leg with a pocket knife. My leg was bleeding fast and my shoes were soaked and squeaking; the knife was wedged in my bone and narrowly missed my arteries. I went to the hospital and needed stitches, which was a quick and painless procedure compared to what I had endured earlier.

After that my brother and I kept testing our “mother” by hitchhiking with random people into town. My mom married and we stopped testing her because our dad wouldn’t take it lightly. To my surprise they never left me for another like a broken toy.

Ian MacDonell is 16. He likes to play video games and goes to San Lorenzo Valley High. After high school he plans to go into the military.

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HousesittingJustin Schultz

When I turned fifteen and a half, my parents began to endlessly harp on me about things like getting my

driver’s license and getting a job, things that would help me prepare for life as an adult on my own. I started the long and tedious process of getting my driver’s license about one month before my sixteenth birthday. After two excruciatingly boring tests, I finally finished the first step, which was getting my learner’s permit.

After this, my parents decided that getting my driver’s license wouldn’t be enough, and that I needed to go out and find myself a job. They were less persistent about me getting a job, but it was enough to make me sick of it.

In the midst of all of this, even with sports and AP classes, my parents don’t seem to think that I am “grown up” enough to spend a week home alone while they are off gallivanting on vacation. I began the school year with two AP classes: Biology and US History. These classes are very demanding due to the vast amount of work required.

My parents had planned a one week vacation to Hawaii where they would leave on a Friday and come back on the

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following Wednesday. Their plan was for me to stay at home with a house sitter. The house sitter was meant to be more of a babysitter than anything. I tried multiple times to talk to my parents about why the house sitter was going to have to be there, but every single time they would change the subject, ignore me, or tell me, “Not now.” Even though I was stuck at home for the week, I made the best of it I could.

The week went well for me; I spent time with friends at or around my house, all while taking care of my dogs and keeping the house from burning to the ground. Even though the guy that my parents were paying to house sit was supposed to be the one taking care of my dogs and making sure everything was all right, he wasn’t. His follies led to the death or disappearance of three of my four chickens. This did not go over very well with my parents once they got back, and I explained how I did almost all of the work that he was supposed to be doing. The job that he was being paid to do was not even done by him.

Speaking of jobs, my parents started to urge me to get a job even more now that they were back from vacation. What they don’t know is that finding a job is only half of the problem. The other half is finding a job I would enjoy doing. There are only a handful of places that have any positions open, let alone for someone with almost zero job experience. I can count the number of places hiring and the places I would want to work on one hand. On the other hand, my parents do not really care where I get a job or if I like it or not; they just want me to be ready for life outside of high school and living away from home.

Having AP classes is tough with all of the classwork, homework, and studying that is required to achieve a decent grade on tests and in the overall class. Having one AP class is

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tough, but having two is even tougher. On the days that both of the classes assign homework, I have almost zero free time or time to do anything besides the homework. My parents are unable to help me in most cases with the work for either class. If I need help with any of the work given in either class, I have to take time out of doing other schoolwork and look up the answer or figure out some other way to get the knowledge to finish the work. So far this year, I have not needed too much help with the work. Most of the concepts have been easy enough to understand, but some of them are a bit tough. These classes are helping me prepare for college classes and even for jobs with the amount of work given and dedication they require.

All of this work coupled with working towards getting my license and finding a job puts a lot of strain on a person, especially a kid like myself. It’s interesting that throughout the course of my parents vacation I acted as more of an adult than the adult who was there to look after me.

Justin Erich Schultz is a young man at the age of 16. Justin is interested in indoor activities such as culinary arts and coding on computers. Other than these, Justin likes to play games on his computer with his good friends and also go camping. In the future, Justin hopes to go to a four-year college, even though he has not decided which one he would like to attend.

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Trapped in a Man’s BodyKurt Lambaren

Suddenly, I woke up. I was in a hospital bed with no one around. After a few minutes of realizing I had just come

out of surgery, my family walked into the room; they were anxious to see how I was. I looked down and saw that my right knee was tightly wrapped. This was the first of many serious injuries for me.

Four months later, there I was again recovering from surgery; this time the tear in my knee was worse than the first one. I hoped this was the last time I would ever be in a hospital bed. Little did I know, the journey I was on was not finished. Three months later, I found myself once again sitting in a hospital waiting room. It was two in the morning. I wondered what was wrong with me now. After many tests, I learned that I was going to stay there for a few days. I was expecting to be in recovery in the hospital for two to three days, but then realized that this would be a much longer, grueling stay.

After many waiting rooms and several doctors, it was determined I needed to go to Dominican Hospital. After being admitted, I found myself walking with a nurse I had

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never met before, down a dark hallway that seemingly had no end. It smelled like stale food that had not been fresh for weeks. It made me feel nauseous and I wanted to throw up. The smell of old potato wedges and rubbing alcohol filled the hallways.

Eventually, I found myself at the very end of a hallway in a small, dark room. I got into bed and expected to see an old, grumpy nurse. Luckily, I met the most loving nurse. A knock echoed through the hallways and a woman walked into my room with a smile that would not fade. After talking to her for a very long time, it seemed like she wasn’t my nurse but more like a guardian angel leading me through a never-ending maze. I soon recognized she was special, one of a kind. Suddenly, I felt a cold shiver running down my spine, but inside I felt like I was burning up, as if I was a puddle of water sitting in the hot rays of the sun. Later that night everything changed; I found myself gasping for air and out of my mind.

The next morning, I opened my eyes and noticed several machines and cameras all around. I was in a new room; it was nothing like the one I was in before. There were doctors all around me. I found that I had been moved to the Intensive Care unit. I looked over and saw my mom talking to the doctor. Soon after that a doctor walked over and talked to me. He said I was going to be moved to UC San Francisco where they could better handle the situation that was soon to come.

Within a few hours, I had arrived in San Francisco. For the next 14 days, I lived on the 6th floor of the UC San Francisco Pediatric Hospital. I learned that a staph infection had settled in my spine; my diagnosis was osteomyelitis. Basically, it was a staph infection in the bone. Fortunately, it was caught early and treated quickly before it traveled to any

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other part of my body. During the two weeks I was there, I saw more doctors

and specialists than I could count. All this time, the doctors came in and out of the room talking to my parents about my condition. They did talk to me, but I was always the second one in line to know what was happening. I wish that they had come to me directly, instead of going to my parents. I am a sixteen-year-old boy who shouldn’t be judged by my age, but by my maturity and level of responsibility.

People should not be treated by their age, because age alone doesn’t determine whether or not they are capable of understanding things and being responsible.

Kurt Lambaren is 16 years old and is a junior in high school. He loves to play football and hang out with friends and family. He plans to go to college after high school, but he doesn’t know where yet.

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OpportunitiesLauren Walker

My life has changed so much since I entered high school. The pressure to grow up and become a young adult

is immense. As negative as some of the aspects of growing up can be, I have really enjoyed it and have made some great memories along the way. We are all affected in different ways by this change, but in the end, everyone is expected to grow up. I have found my own positive ways to get through this transition and enjoy the process of growing up.

Being in a new school is a challenge: it includes adding new faces and many new opportunities and is also a time to meet new friends and become involved. I personally went into high school scared to death of upper classmen, but I quickly became involved in the school and that all changed. I began volleyball during the summer before my freshman year.

At first, the thought of going to a practice with seniors was intimidating. Looking back, it was probably one of the best times of my life. Hanging out and getting to know the older girls before school started made the first day much easier. Making new friends with the upperclassmen made the thought of a new school and growing up exciting. This

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experience has given me life-long mentors and older friends to look up to for guidance or advice.

Once my first day came along, I knew that this was the first step to my pathway to adulthood: I was getting older. The responsibilities slowly began to pile up, and with each grade level they became more and more important. In spite of the growing pile, these responsibilities never brought me down. I still continued to have time for sports and the positive impact they have had on me growing up and getting through the transition into high school.

Another thing that had a big impact on me is being a part of ASB, or Associated Student Body. I have a new outlook on the environment of our school and all the people in it. As a part of the student body, I have learned to work with others in large groups. Doing projects with other students is a huge part of ASB. It gives me a good understanding of the real world and how I’ll need to learn to work with my co-workers.

As a young adult, learning things that will help you in the future is a critical skill to have. We often get caught up in learning just what is given to us in a book and forget about real life examples or situations. Not only have I learned how to work with others but I’ve also taken on some larger responsibilities—for example, being secretary of my class. Whether I am taking notes at a meeting, communicating with other coordinators, or forming a contract and making sure every last detail is perfect, it is my responsibility. Taking on this position has given me tools to feel confident after high school and into a career.

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Lauren is a 16-year-old junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. She enjoys playing both volleyball and basketball. After high school Lauren plans to attend college and pursue a career in the nursing field. She loves children and hopes to someday make a difference in their lives.

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Alone DecisionsMadelynne Cope

I feel as though I’ve boarded a train in a foreign country. My ticket has no end point; my destination is unknown. I travel

always in the same direction but don’t know when to get off. In the late morning of the Tuesday I was called into the

counseling office, I boarded that same train. I knew exactly what I was about to do and already knew I had no answers. I sat in the small cubicle with another student directly across from me while our counselor quickly jotted notes on both our packets during the thirty minutes both of us shared with her. I began to be angry…feeling like my future had very little importance. Understandably, the counselor had a couple of hundred other students to talk with as well, but I felt that such an important conversation should be treated with more care and concern.

I still haven’t figured out exactly what I want. I was tired of tedious Power Point presentations that only seemed to create more stress and confusion towards college decisions. Every year we’ve taken quizzes for college, yet my understanding of why they’re taken is unclear. I didn’t want to be asked questions that rattled my brain. I still didn’t

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know what college I wanted to attend after high school or the career I wanted to study for.

I’ve spent my time involved in hours of school: getting involved in school functions and meeting new people, staying busy with sports—all that we’ve been pushed to do. Trying to be a part of it all gave me no time for self-reflection; I was unable to discover who I am or what I truly want out of life. We have talked about different careers and how much we can earn annually, but I want something with more depth. While I sat there in the counselor’s office, waiting to answer as much as I could, all the “uh’s” and “um’s” slowly diminished every last bit of confidence I had towards my future.

We are asked what we’re passionate about. The majority of us answer, “I don’t know.” But how are we to know when we’re too busy preparing for tests, midterms, AP exams, the ACT and SAT, along with all the homework we’re assigned? We’re focused on our grades and passing with an acceptable GPA to attend college; our time isn’t spent finding ourselves.

When I finally left the counselor, I realized I had more power than I gave myself credit. While our counselors attempt to persuade us into classes that seem not to fit, we do have a voice in the direction of our future. I realized that our time to become adults came sooner than expected. No matter the lack of attention, it is our job to make ourselves happy. We must decide based on what we want, what we love, what is going to make ourselves proud. As I’m getting older, I realize that the decisions we make without help do train us for future jobs and opportunities.

Understanding I have a say in things allowed me to realize this is my first step into adult responsibility.

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Madelynne Cope is a 16-year-old student at San Lorenzo Valley High School. She enjoys playing sports and spending her summers on the lake. After high school, she plans to attend a four-year college and study to become a psychologist.

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ResponsibilityMichael Cremonini

Through the years I have had a taste of adulthood. Some examples are having a job, playing school sports, and

balancing it all out with homework. As I get older, I have gradually gotten more responsibility and more freedom. Getting more responsibility from our parents is our training to becoming an adult. If we are not yet mature enough for our responsibilities, our privileges are taken away. To be mature is a strength that allows you to have more freedom and with freedom comes responsibility.

I have to be responsible when I am working at my job. Twice a week I am working at Veruttis Liquors. I am learning to be responsible by gaining trust from the people I work with. The fact that the guys I work with trust me means that I am responsible and in fact, am dealing with adult responsibilities. My job is really an adult job and helps me get ready for another adult job later on in my life.

Homework has been a huge chunk of what my adult tasks will consist of. Trying to schedule time for my homework is a huge responsibility. I’m responsible for getting my homework in on time and getting good grades in school.

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I have to incorporate my homework into my busy schedule, which consists of my job, after school sports, and my social life.

Through my career in working, I have learned many skills to deal with my adult tasks. One big skill I have learned is how to deal with people. Since I help take care of the store, I have had a lot of practice with talking and dealing with people. My job has taught me to be more confident by talking to adults. It’s also a big reason why I have so many girlfriends.

Through getting more confident, I am able to tend to customers’ needs. Most of the customers are a lot older than me and tend to give me a hard time because I am young. I often just play along and don’t let them bring me down. I get more mature every time I work there. I sometimes feel I am more mature than the customers.

I have brought skills to my house that I have learned through work. A lot of the things I do at work involve cleaning. At my house, many of my chores involve cleaning. Since I practice cleaning at my job, I take the skills I have learned and bring them to my house. My cleaning jobs at my job are much harder than my cleaning jobs at my house. Soon I will be living in my own house, so I’ll need to know some adult skills to keep it clean and neat.

My responsibilities come in many forms. I am learning adult tasks that prepare me for adult responsibilities. I learn mostly through my job at the liquor store, but also in school and in sports. I am excited every day by my training, and can’t wait for what my future holds.

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Michael Cremonini is 17 years old and enjoys fashion, basketball, film, and photography. Michael is a junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. He isn’t sure where he will go to school after college but is thinking about San Francisco or returning back home to Italy and getting a degree in business. Michael likes to travel and is looking for a fun and adventurous career in the future.

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In the Boots of AdulthoodDante Corona

Back in the spring of 2013 my dad told me, “You’re going to work with me this weekend!” My dad is a firefighter in the

city of San Jose, and when I reached the age of 16 he was able to take me to an entire work day.

At the time he worked at a fire station on the east side of the city, which is the not-so-nice part of town. In a serious and non-joking tone, he said that I had no say in this (whether I wanted to go or not) and that I had to do what he said. I was a little bit mad, but I was excited at the same time. I had plans that weekend to hang out with friends that had to be postponed until the next week. However, I was excited to go on calls with him and also to get to know the people he worked with.

My dad woke me up around five in the morning on Saturday. I was extremely tired and did not want to wake up, but I did anyway. On the way to San Jose, we stopped at Coffee Cat to get some hot chocolate and breakfast burritos; both were disgusting–the hot chocolate was bitter and the burrito was mainly filled with cheese and nothing else. When we got to the station, I set my stuff in his office. Since my dad is a captain at his fire station he did a lot of paper work, so for most of the day I worked with

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one of the rookies, who was one of the medical firefighters with a suitcase filled with needles and medicines.

During the day, there was a lot of down time to do chores or to hang out. I wiped down the dinner table while the firefighters sat on the sofa to watch TV (since technically I was not allowed to.) I also washed the fire trucks with the firefighters. My dad had me do little things like change the batteries in the flashlights while the firefighters rested. This showed that since I was “the new guy” I got crap for it and that I had to fulfill my adult responsibilities of being a rookie.

I went on many calls that day. Most of them were people suffering from heart attacks and seizures, one of them was a car on fire in a parking lot. The biggest event while I was there happened at around one in the morning: a little kid was stabbed in the head by a teenager. They announced over the loudspeaker that this event had happened and I immediately woke up. We went to the scene, which was in the parking lot of an apartment building. The victim only had a little scar because he was wearing a bucket over his head pretending to be a monster with his friends. The stabber had come out of nowhere; fortunately, the knife barely pierced the skin and the victim was only bleeding a little bit. The stabber was in handcuffs as he was escorted to a police car. I watched the entire time that I was there and was not allowed to help. I felt kind of bad that I was not allowed to help, but since I had no experience in dealing with the sick and injured, it was best to leave it to the professionals. Afterwards, we went to a taco truck and ate tacos.

My dad was kind enough to let me sleep in during two more calls later that night, but when the morning came, I got crap from the rest of the firefighters about not going on those last few calls. Though I was considered an apprentice

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to my dad, I was not allowed to help, only to watch. I had to follow the structured rules of the fire station, and I was assigned to do many of the little things that help keep the fire station and the fire trucks going. Firefighting is thought of as a fun and dangerous job and it can be, but there is a lot of planning and preparation to keep everything in line.

Dante Corona is 17 years old. He goes to San Lorenzo Valley High School and will be graduating next year. He plays football and soccer for the school—two things that interest him a lot. After high school he wants to be a businessman or an engineer. He’s not sure what college he wants to go to and guesses he’ll have to wait and see.

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Women Kasia Gniewosz

I would never think that embracing who I am and working hard for my achievements would become a negative

outcome for me. I would never believe that being a smart, ambitious, hardworking female in my family would lead me to live a double standard. Sexism and ageism is a very real thing in society today. Studies have shown that women get paid 77 cents for every dollar a man makes (Huffington Post). Along with never believing that being a young woman would have negative side effects, I would never have believed that acting as an adult would lead to me being treated as a young child.

These days, colleges want their students to have overly high GPA’s, volunteer work, life experiences, extracurricular activities, and anything else that you can put into your essay to weasel your way into these high-end, elite schools. My parents are not expecting to spend a single dime on my college tuition and are relying on me to get into a good school solely on my own. I am preparing myself for all of these tasks that are the answers to my immediate future. When I am not giving 100% of my focus to my schoolwork due to family life, social life, sports, and working, I am punished for not performing my

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best. It is unfair for my parents to put so much pressure on me

and so much emphasis on my hard work in school when my brothers got by in their classes with D’s and F’s. This issue was barely grazed upon by my mother and father when my brothers were in high school. My brothers did not care at all about an education, and after high school they continued to survive at home off of daddy’s gas money and poppy seed bagels for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I am striving to be better than this and to go far in my life, and I wish that my parents would realize that I am trying my best to achieve all my goals, instead of punishing me. They exude the ultimate punishment when they are upset with my grades–their disappointment. One time I was told that if I were not putting my best grades on the table, I would be a disgrace to the family.

Being the only female in my immediate family, aside from my mother, has led me to expect different things and emotions from the others in my family. My companions always tell me about how they are so open with their other family members and ready to tell them anything about their lives; this is excruciating for me to hear because I never feel like I am able to express my opinions and my frustration. “Being an angst-filled teenage girl” is the reason created for my “outrageous behavior.” I have heard my mother blaring and complaining to my father from up the stairs one too many times. Just like how women in the 19th century needed to fight for their rights, I feel the need to fight for my rights at home not to be thought of differently than the rest of my siblings.

The way I am viewed at home versus the way that my brothers are viewed is a very difficult thing for me to go

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through every day. I know many other girls experience sexism and ageism in their homes, such as having additional and more complex chores than the boys in their family are required to do. This is an occurrence that has been happening for centuries all over the world.

I hope that my parents soon find a way to treat me like my male family members. I also hope that by the time this book is published I will be one step closer to a good college without the pressure from my parents. I dearly hope my brother will move out of our household and will learn how to cook a much more extravagant and tasty meal than top ramen or Mac n Cheese.

Kasia Gniewosz is a 17-year-old junior at SLVHS. She plays volleyball and softball for her school. After high school she plans on attending a four-year college and then becoming a neurologist or pediatrician for children with special needs.

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How Do You Make a Resume?Rosalinda Levy

I have a big family: a mother, two brothers, two sisters, a father, a stepfather, and basically a stepsister, as my father

has a daughter with my best friend’s mom, yet they remain unmarried. We are far from ‘happily functional’. My older sister is five years older than I am, and my older brother is four years older than I am. This age gap really isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but since they are basically the same age in relation to each other, I got left out quite a lot while growing up.

My older siblings got into some pretty crazy teenage shenanigans together, such as partying, social dramas, R-rated movies, and standard rebellious teen law-breaking, all while I was still just a kid. Subsequently, they got themselves in trouble time and time again on account of their actions and my mother’s short temper. This left me to deal with my parents, or at least just my mom’s expectations that I should, “…be better, learn from your siblings’ mistakes and don’t repeat them,” as if I can automatically learn the right choices by only ever seeing the wrong ones. This put a bit (by a bit I mean a lot) of pressure on me as I was growing up,

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accompanied with the assurance and insistence of, “You’re my smartest kid,” from my mother, who was putting pressure on me to make the right choices.

My sister generally was a cause for more familial turmoil than my brother; she and mom didn’t generally get along too well. She was the center of attention far too often and with too much severity on many occasions. The period of years that made up her teenage experience were a weird and muddy thing for me—dark and stressful. She learned how to lie to us and how to take care of herself. I learned not to ask for help for fear of being a burden. When she finally moved out, I expected the pressure to increase…and the involvement and focus of my mother to turn on me like a ray of sun through a magnifying glass. In fact, I anxiously expected it; I was stressed and depressed and dreading diving into public school the upcoming school year, even though the decision to switch had been mine. Surely mom would need to turn her focus on someone else now that my sister had moved out? It would seem not. For some reason, as I began high school, her focus decreased while her expectations rose.

A lot is expected of me right now: “Don’t mess up like your sister did.” “Be successful.” “Don’t end up a deadbeat like your father.” These expectations were accompanied with doubt and

scorn. I want to move out when I’m eighteen? I’d better get a job. I want to get a job? I’d better figure out how to do it myself—my mother is far too busy working to help me out. I want to learn to drive? Too bad, I’d better wait until I’m eighteen because my mother won’t pay for a car, or insurance, or driving lessons. And she, once again, doesn’t have time to teach me herself.

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“Any 16-year-old kid’s parent who pays for their kid’s insurance is a complete idiot,” is a toned-down version of her words. Thus, I am trapped in a place where I cannot receive any help from anyone; my father doesn’t have the capacity to help and my mother is busy. In fact, there were a few instances in which I got in trouble for asking for help in the wrong way.

In my opinion, parents should help their children learn to live properly in this world. Yet in my case, my father lacks the capacity, and my mother is too busy to help me, yet she gets angry when I don’t magically figure everything out myself. I am tasked with the expectations of an adult, yet not granted the help or privileges an adult would normally receive. I am expected to do many things for myself without being given the knowledge or help needed to accomplish these tasks. Subsequently, grievances abound when I can’t figure something out.

I love my family and I know they do as much for me as they feel they can. My mother has had to raise us three older kids nearly single-handedly for 21 years and that’s not fun. I know she’s done her best and I love her for all she’s done, yet I’m at a point where I can either wait for things to get better or take a stand and make things better for myself.

It’s frustrating that I have to do it almost all on my own, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out in my own time. At least I’ll have a roof over my head while I figure it out, thanks to my mom.

Rosalinda Soul Levy is a junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. She is 16 years old. Her interests are drawing, singing, video games, Marvel Comics, and playing ukulele, piano, and guitar. She is looking forward to college in the future.

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Embarrassed, But at Least I’m Not Bald

Mike La Capria

It is easy for an adult to embarrass a kid. Adults know they should be respected, and know that a polite or shy kid may

not stand up for his or herself because of embarrassment. That situation is not uncommon, and was introduced to me in the workplace. It all started with my bike.

I am not an experienced biker. One day, I had to meet a friend in my neighborhood and I did not want to walk. So I started off my day with the extremely bad idea of choosing a bicycle as my vehicle of transportation. That was not smart. As I was riding along, I realized my wallet was slipping out of my pajama pocket. The smart thing to do would have been to pull over slowly and adjust it. I did not do that. I thought that even though I had not biked in years, I was still athletic enough to pull off riding with one hand and reaching into my pocket at the same time. Also, I was on a flat surface with no slope and going very slowly. I know it sounds easy, but let’s not forget, I’m not a good biker. Despite what they say, there are still aspects of biking that are easy to forget. As a result, I

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fell, catapulting off my bike and sliding along the asphalt like a penguin on ice…except, this hurt. I had many scrapes on my body, including a particularly nasty one on my left hand. That created a situation for me at work. I’m a busser at a formal restaurant, where I sometimes serve food to guests. In an attempt to try not to disgust the customers, I had to cover up my hand.

After many experiments, the best solution to my gross problem was to wear a medical glove over my hand. I did not want customers to think I had just performed surgery in the kitchen, but it was either that or serve them food with my wounded yellow and red hand.

Well into the night, I sat a group of adults at a table. The smell of hot, flavorful food was in the air and the background jazz music gave a relaxing ambiance for the adults. I brought them appetizers and drinks, treated them nicely and said nothing but polite things to them. Basically, I gave them the respect they deserved. There was a strong-looking bald man at the head of the table. He wore a small white t-shirt, emphasizing his large arms and broad shoulders. He handled himself in a very macho way. After I brought him refreshments, he looked down at my glove. looked back up at me, and said, “Hey man, do you skin down with that hand?”

I did not quite understand what he meant at first, but judging by the laughter of his peers, I quickly put the pieces together. I felt other people looking at me and became overwhelmed with embarrassment. What really frustrated me was wondering what he expected me to say. I was not going to say, “Good question! Yeah man, all the time!” Or I easily could have said, “Hey baldy, do people use your head as a mirror?” But that probably would not have gone over well with the boss. That left me with nothing to say, as I sank into

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my embarrassment. If an adult was put into my situation, I feel that the bald

man would not have made that joke. I kept an eye on him and saw the way he treated an older waiter. He was kind and thankful. He respected the waiter. It made me wonder why he did not treat me with the same respect. I realized he based his actions on my age. He knew that he had the power to make his peers laugh at the expense of embarrassing me because I was far younger than he was, and so he took the opportunity. He took advantage of me because of our age difference.

I think it is wrong to do so, because when I treat an adult with respect, that respect should be returned, no matter what the age difference. I do not just give it away. Adults should recognize that kids yearn for respect just as much as adults do, maybe just in different ways. We deserve it all the same.

Mike La Capria is a 17-year-old junior in high school. He plays football and basketball. After high school, he plans on attending a four-year college and studying kinesiology or psychology. He is a great guy.

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Waiting for the Benefits Ethan Chambers

Life gives you privileges and takes them away, especially when you are 16 years old. Being young is exciting but

I have to rely on my parents even though I am also gaining a lot of responsibility. Not much power is given to the young but some responsibility is given, such as jobs, school, and time management. Jobs are a fun thing, more or less, depending on what kind of job it is. With jobs you get money, but being younger you cannot freely spend it. There are a lot of things teenagers are responsible for but our age limits us from other things.

Last summer I was looking for a job and my father needed help. His job is to acquire old valuable cars. Interestingly, sales and management is something I would like to pursue as an adult; my dad hired me. This job was a great experience as I had a lot of responsibilities and some privileges such as finding the right cars for my dad to buy and being very vigilant of any changing circumstances.

Things can happen in the process of car sales: people might change their mind and not want to sell or they could be lying about certain aspects of the car. While I did not directly

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deal with these circumstances, my father explained ways to deal with them, both the good and the bad.

My job is fun because I am doing something amazing instead of working at a lame non- entertaining job. Being a minor limits me from a lot, for example, how much I work or how much money I spend. Privileges are plentiful but my parents can limit the amount I spend even though I put in the effort. Work can be very tedious—some days are better than others—but as an adult you get much more freedom to do what you want with your money and more time for yourself. This is the downside to the time spent working for my dad: the work itself was not bad but the effort was sometimes not worth the hours. Everyone has those days.

I was lucky enough to get the job I did at Canepa because not everyone gets this type of opportunity. It is a job that requires a lot of skill and I would not have had it without my father. The kind of cars I deal with are vintage cars from the early part of last century to now…usually very rare and expensive. Some of these cars include Cobra, Ferrari, Lamborghini, BMW, Jaguar, Dino, Mercedes, and many more, but their specialty is Porsche. Some of these cars are new but most of them are older, so they are usually much more valuable. A lot of these cars are sold for millions but most in the high thousands. My job was to admire the cars, learn about them, and look for some cars my dad might be interested in when he could not do it himself.

I had to look all over the Internet or in car magazines to find the right cars. This was very time-consuming, but it was all part of the job. The cars I would look for and the ones my father looks for every day are in the best condition. They are low-mileage cars that have never been crashed and have had good owners. All of these elements play into finding the

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right cars. The business is very competitive, which can give you enemies, but also a lot of good friends. Luckily my father is a very respected and likable guy so he does not have to deal with much of that drama. I enjoy my job; it is teaching me to be very meticulous, and in general, it is a great learning experience that could lead to a great career. This was and is the perfect job for me; it is unreal to think I was so blessed.

Even though I have had responsibility, adults do not see minors as reliable and do not tend to listen to them over another adult. This was a problem for me, but I got over it because I was dealing with a lot of expensive things. My co-workers did not always trust me as much as my dad trusted me. My co-workers were all older than me so they assumed my wisdom was not as sound as the next guy’s.

Working, learning about cars, and having the father I have does have its perks such as knowledge and money, and I have the chance to see thousands of amazing cars. But being a minor, I cannot drive any of the cars because the owners do not trust me and I do not have a license. I have enjoyed the job and responsibilities that come with it, but I have had very limited privileges so I felt stuck. I wanted to thrive with my co-workers and not get held back, but being held back has been part of the training to become what my dad needed.

Being young is wonderful until the day you want to be seen as more capable. Then it is just holding you back. I enjoy working and doing something I can see myself doing, but I cannot have as much fun at this age as my dad does. Sometimes we even limit our own potential because we are scared to move forward. But that is just the life of a high school student.

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Ethan Chambers is a 16-year-old high school student with a normal, happy life. He goes to school at the best school in Santa Cruz County. He has a mom, dad, brother, and sister; he is the middle child with an older sister and a younger brother. He has a lot of awesome friends and he is very blessed. He hopes you enjoyed his stellar story.

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LicensedDono Francis

Exactly six months ago I received my driver’s license. It was the best thing that’s happened to me in my sixteen

years of existence. I finally had the freedom to go wherever I wanted, when I wanted. I never realized how big a responsibility it actually is.

I’m allowed to drive like an adult but I am only allowed to do so much…I cannot drive anyone under the age of 20 for the first year.

One day I was coming back from a day at the beach in Santa Cruz with my friend; he was driving and I was a passenger. It was getting dark so we started to head home. Traffic was terrible on the freeway and we decided it would be better to take an alternate route. Once he got off the freeway, I had a bad feeling about the route he chose.

We were cruising at the speed limit, and he started playing music that I didn’t like, so I put my headphones in. Soon I was seeing red and blue lights flashing in the rear view mirror. As soon as my friend noticed the officer’s lights come on, he flew around corners attempting to get away from the police officer while acting like he did not see the lights. I didn’t

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know exactly what was going on because I was looking at my phone and listening to music.

Suddenly I yanked my ear buds out in fear. I yelled at my friend to pull over or the consequences would only be greater. As soon as he pulled over, I weaseled my way into the backseat. I laid down on my side–hiding behind the tinted windows. It was nerve-wracking hearing, “I thought I saw someone with you,” and “Your brake light is out,” said by the police officer. This terrifying experience was enhanced by the fact that I have never done anything wrong.

My friend shrugged to the officer’s remarks and got off with no ticket. We then carried on driving like nothing had happened. This was a good life lesson for him and for me. Since he pulled over willingly when I told him to, the officer let it slip. I think it is much better to live by the law because it gives me an advantage over the people who break it.

Dono Francis is an 11th grade student with good grades and a good work ethic. He enjoys eating food and playing sports. He has a sister, a mom, and a dad. He has two dogs and two cats.

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Silent WorldLogan Heinen

In the year of 1998, I was born. I was not like any of the other thousands of babies who were born at that moment;

I was born with a hearing loss. My parents had no idea what was wrong with me for a long time; it took them 1,460 days to realize what my disability was. With this discovery, I was treated with tools and teachings to gain as much hearing experience as possible throughout my childhood. This was when I received a device called the Cochlear Implant. It helps people who are deaf to hear. It is very similar to a hearing aid, which most people are familiar with. This helped me have a hearing experience like all the people I grew up with.

The Cochlear Implant has particularly changed my life because it allowed me to have a real vision about the world and all the beautiful sounds it creates. It gave me an enormous leap into my life since I had to use my own knowledge about everything around me to resolve things and get my mind and feelings in the hang of the change.

My situation is a huge responsibility because I am the only one to know if there is anything wrong with the device. I have to let others who are not aware of my deafness

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know when they can assist me. It also includes skills for making the right choices such as being in the correct spots in environments (such as the classroom) so I can hear the teacher better. It also includes problem solving because I am the only one who knows how to maintain my Cochlear Implant. I have to fix whatever is wrong with it and make sure it’s functioning right, because nobody can tell how it is functioning except me. When I wear this device, it helps me work harder on my own so I can be in the right direction. It gives me a better hearing experience.

My disability gave me success in my life and shaped the way I am today. I’ve gone through many feelings and decisions that included getting surgeries for an updated cochlear implant. I also overcame solutions that made me proud because it showed me I am capable of taking the responsibility for the skills my deafness requires. The personality that people see today was formed from my difficult childhood. Compared to who I am now, I believe I would be a total stranger if my disability never existed. I was like a lone baby deer in the forest depending only on itself. Throughout time, it becomes bigger and stronger and eventually evolves into a buck. Or one could say I was like Iron Man because I started from the bottom and built myself into a stable person.

I have always had to find a solution to a problem. My achievements all depended on me. I could choose to do nothing, which would lead me to being bland. I realized I do not want to be that person. I do not want to be a dumbfounded being on Earth. I wanted to achieve and to have success, which I went for. I eventually solved my problems, shaped my personality, and received new devices for a better hearing experience. When I was young I wore a

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cheap technology implant and, as time went on, technology improved. This means I will continually receive better devices and need to keep taking responsibility for the skills needed to maintain them.

I believe my childhood showed me I could do incredible things at a young age. I did not require any role leaders or mentors to guide me. I went with my own decisions and heart to guide myself through situations.

JC Logan Heinen is 16 years old and a junior at San Lorenzo Valley High. He plays soccer and golf. He enjoys being social with friends in his free time. Logan is working a part-time job at Mount Hermon. He resides in Felton, about 10 minutes away from Santa Cruz. This story is dedicated to all deaf people.

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Strict FashionSophia Dingman

I pick up my backpack and with a grunt, lug it onto my shoulder. Oof! Ugh, I think. So heavy. I don’t know how

I carry this around every day. As I am walking to the front door, I hear my dad say, “Uh, sweetie, those are cutting it close.” I sigh and look down at my shorts and think, so close.

“Dad, I wear them all the time. You said these were fine.” Slightly exasperated, I look at him. He always manages to pick the worst time to make a comment on my outfits.

“Okay,” he sighs. “You need to get longer ones soon. That pair is getting a little short.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I say, and hurry out the door and down the creaky porch steps to get to the car before he changes his mind.

At lunch I toss my bag on the ground then cross my arms as I look at my shorts. I swear they are the longest out of all my friends. What girl doesn’t want to at least try to dress like everyone else?

My mom has developed a code word–without my input, mind you–for when my shirt gets too low or (God forbid) she can see my bra strap. She says, “Penguin.” It’s so random, and

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she’ll just say, “Penguin!!” to me loud enough for the whole world to hear or at the most awkward moments.

I get into the front seat of the car, slamming the door behind me. “Hi, girls,” says my mom, and then the sweet smell of my mom’s pumpkin-chocolate-chip-melt-in-your-mouth-muffins fill my senses. It makes me feel warm inside. I am about to ask for one when my mom reaches over and tugs my sleeve over another centimeter on my shoulder so that you cannot see my strap.

“Mom!” I exclaim, the cozy, warm feelings now replaced by slight frustration. “I’m in the car, nobody cares or can see it!”

At other times I am at home doing my chores or lounging in my room, and of course I am in my comfortable ‘I-don’t-care-clothes’ that I only wear at home. My mom will quietly say “Penguin,” and motion to adjust whatever is bothering her while she gives me that look. Sometimes I scrunch up feeling uncomfortable and pretend I did not hear. She will usually clear her throat or say, “Honey…” in a warning tone.

At that point I flop myself down on the couch and throw my hands up in the air with a sigh. “Mom, I’m at home. I’m not trying to be modest or impress anybody. I’m just trying to be comfortable. I’m not trying because I’m with family and no one cares what I wear.” Nor should care, I think, frustrated.

As a Christian, I can understand where they are coming from. I have grown up living in an Orthodox Christian community that is very tightly knit; we are all very close. Sometimes I feel like my parents are on the slightly overprotective side. I know that their actions are not to be mean or restrictive; they have told me this and I believe them. They just want to help me and protect me from the world for

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as long as they can. Maybe I am not altogether honest and don’t make all the right decisions, but everyone has flaws and everyone makes mistakes now and then.

I would like to be able to wear what I think is reasonable and okay without their criticism. And I want them to recognize that I can be trustworthy and give me more of the freedoms I feel I deserve.

Sophia Dingman is 16 years old and a junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. Her favorite things to do are reading and drawing; she can’t be found doing much else in her free time. After high school she is looking forward to taking a year or two off, traveling, and visiting family. When she goes to college she is planning on majoring in art, or something like that.

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Working in My Dad’s BakeryBenyamin Lund

We all have responsibilities, but sometimes our parents don’t trust us enough to give us full responsibility

when we are alone. I work in my dad’s bakery on Tuesdays as a cookie maker.

When I am working, my dad is not my dad at all: he is my boss. I am responsible for whatever mistakes I make. I can’t press those mistakes on my boss or I might not get paid or, even worse, I might get fired.

I also work at the Boulder Creek Farmer’s Market on Saturdays. At first, it was my dad and me, but later on it changed to my oldest brother and me. It’s fun seeing all of the different kinds of people who come to the market. They range from creepy to strange to awkward to really cool. Rochelle, the woman who supervises the Farmer’s Market, is a very cool person; she is really chill and is fun overall.

I feel like things would be different if I were working for someone other than my dad… the rules and expectations would be way higher. When I am working with my dad in the bakery, he plugs in his IPod or he flips on the TV and puts on some reggae or soul music. If it were someone else, there

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would be no music unless I asked him/her. I don’t have to wear a hairnet when working with my dad because I normally have my head shaved. However, if I were under someone else’s management I would have to wear a hairnet and go through other such precautions.

Of course, the food would never be the same if I had a different boss. The cookies wouldn’t feel as warm or taste as sweet or smell as scrumptious or look as mouth-watering. You can’t really hear a cookie, but if you could, you would hear “delicious.” If you ever eat an IRise Bakery snicker doodle or molasses spice cookie you will instantly fall in love. My dad used to bake four to six fresh cookies every week, every month of the year for us to munch on in the mornings. My personal favorite cookie is his famous snicker doodle. It smells amazing; it tastes so sweet; it feels so warm and soft when fresh; it looks so scrumptious that a pack of six can disappear in less than three hours!

Looking back on my essay, I realize that I have only a few responsibilities when working for my dad and also for Rochelle. If I had a different boss, I wouldn’t be free to do most of the things I do with my dad like listen to music, not wear a hairnet, or take those other rules into consideration.

Benyamin Lund is an 11th grade student with decent grades and a chill personality. He enjoys listening to reggae and relaxing at home while playing videogames. If you happen to hang out with him, you might think he is cool, but that would be your choice.

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From Father to SonChase Hart

Throughout my life, driving has been a big part of who I am. Both my dad and my stepfather have greatly

influenced how driving has affected my life. Lance, my stepdad, was always working on his off-road trucks; at a very young age I was interested. At the age of five years old, I got to drive his big vehicles with more than one shifter. My dad taught me how to drive a stick at a very young age. He would have me sit in the passenger seat, so I could match the RPMs and shift for him with my left hand. After years of doing this, my dad let me drive for real on a freeway. When I was around ten years old, I started looking for my own vehicle on Craigslist and other sites. When I was 16, I finally found a truck to call my own.

The way that my dad’s friends looked at his vehicles and how he looked at theirs always fascinated me. From a young age, I would help my stepdad work on all of his vehicles. Most of the time we would be working on lifted, solid-axle, off-road vehicles. They looked at their trucks like they were works of art, and the trucks are art. They tore apart and rebuilt everything on their vehicles.

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At the age of five, I drove my stepdad’s rig for the first time, and from then on, driving it was the motivation for working on it. What interested me about driving was that the vehicles were art that I could enjoy after I made it. I couldn’t drive a painting I created. A painting couldn’t scare me or send a chill up my spine. This was a new concept for me to understand. The challenge intrigued me and made me more a part of the off-road community.

Over on my dad’s side, he started me off young as well. When I was around six years old, he taught me how to shift from the passenger seat. I immediately loved shifting and was hooked. From then on, everywhere my dad and I went together, I was shifting. Before long my thirst for driving increased and by the age of nine or ten, my dad let me drive for real. I probably scared him horribly, but it was an experience I’ll never forget. I remember merging from the off- ramp onto the freeway then upshifting again so that I was soaring over the pavement at a high speed. After a little while of driving we pulled off, and my dad took over.

After a couple of years, I started looking on all kinds of websites searching for a vehicle of my own. Of course, I couldn’t legally drive on the rode yet so off-road vehicles were very appealing. For a while I wanted a Baja Bug. I learned everything there is to know about them, inside and out. Then I started looking at 4-runners and continued to learn. When I reached an age to buy a vehicle to drive everyday, I chose a single cab truck. I bought a little truck because they are great on gas and there are only two seats so people can’t bum rides. Regardless of the reasons, after all this time I finally have a vehicle to drive every day.

In today’s society, driving is a part of everyone’s life. Even if you don’t drive, you take a bus or taxi or some form of

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transportation to get you from A to B. Although driving is extremely fun and exhilarating, driving is like operating any other type of machinery: it can be dangerous. My parents were skeptical at first about me getting my license because many people we know have died in car accidents. All our lives we take risks, and everyone takes a risk every time they get into a car. My dad took a risk letting me drive on the freeway for the first time. My stepdad took a risk when he let me work on his crawlers at a young age. Both my dads did a great job and took risks so that I wouldn’t have to. One day far into the future, I hope I can do the same for my son.

Chase Hart is a 17-year-old junior. He likes to be creative and make money. After high school he plans to go to Cabrillo College for two years and then go to a four-year school.

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ResponsibilitySam Keadle

I have had many moments when responsibility has hit me when I least expected it. When this happens, I usually don’t

like the added pressure, but as I grow, I see how responsibility is a part of life. Being an adult is full of responsibility, whether you want it or not. Since I was a kid I have always wanted to grow up so I can do whatever I want, but I didn’t realize how much responsibility there is in growing up. When I was younger, I didn’t have many responsibilities other than making sure the house stayed clean, but ever since I have gotten a job I have grown to appreciate what having real responsibilities feels like.

I work at Jamba Juice and my responsibilities are cleaning, making sure I always have something to do, and doing my best at whatever it is I do. Again, when I was younger I always thought a job would be a fun activity you do besides going to school, but this job is the opposite. While it is fun, it is still a job and I have to strive to do my best. When working, I have to make sure I am always doing something, whether that is cleaning or helping a customer. This rule made me realize that a responsibility can be as simple as making sure you are

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always doing something. Cleaning is a big part of my job and one of the biggest

responsibilities in and outside of work. Cleaning has always been a responsibility of mine. While I knew how to clean, this job taught me how to stick to a task and finish it to the end, then move on. This is a big learning curve for me since I always didn’t really do all my cleanings to completion when I was younger. But now, I have realized it is a lot better to fully complete something then to do it half-way. I usually feel older while working because I make sure everything is up to standards, and the job is my main focus.

There have been many instances where I have had to bite my tongue and not lash out at a rude customer. This was different for me because I was used to telling someone, if they were rude, to stop. But at most jobs like this one, you have to respect the customer and make sure everything is up to their standards. An example is a man who got his smoothie and said he wanted another because he disliked the previous one. I said, “Sure,” since at Jamba we have a Goodness Guarantee. He got his other smoothie, took one sip and said, “Gross, you don’t have good smoothies, do you?” I said something like, “We have many smoothies; you will find one that you will like.” When I said that, the man said, “Make me another,” but I couldn’t make another because it is one Goodness Guarantee per customer, otherwise we will be losing a lot of product.

Jamba Juice is a great first job: I have learned a good work ethic, how to save money, and how to be nice to rude customers. I will most likely take the skills I have learned with this job and apply them to the rest of my life.

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Sam Keadle is a not very good-looking 16-year-old who works at Jamba Juice. He is a great worker who puts time and thought into what he does. He is a fantastic smoothie maker and an okay customer service person. Sam likes long walks on the beach and hanging out with his step Aunt. He is not very rich but has some money. He also likes hanging with the Boiz (Tommy Chestnut, Sebastian Vroman-Nell, and Michael Cremonini). Sam is one of those kids who actually has no friends but says he does; he is a very strange kid. Samuel says thanks for reading his essay. He is going to eat his lunch in the bathroom now.

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Popcorn Kernels Sam Schubert

In late May 2014, I got my first job in a fast-food restaurant. There are usually five or six people working there at one

time, two supervisors and three or four employees. The supervisors are usually the oldest employees; the other employees vary in age. As an example, I have a co-worker who is my age and another co-worker who is in his late 50’s. All of my co-workers and the supervisors treat everyone with equal respect no matter their age…except for one person.

That one person (let’s just say her name is Jenny) does not treat her younger co-workers the same as those who are older. She acts like a supervisor to me and other employees my age. There was one day that was really busy. Popcorn sales had gone through the roof, which meant that at the end of the day the popcorn machine was covered in layers of thick, greasy popcorn butter. Burnt shells of popped kernels that never left the popper had cooked batch after batch. Someone was going to have to clean the nasty popcorn machine and, thanks to Jenny, it was me.

She had actually been the one assigned to clean it that day by one of the supervisors. However, Jenny went to the

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supervisor and “suggested” that I clean the machine because she felt I needed to be taught how. In fact, I had already been taught how to clean it, and the person who had taught me was Jenny. This wasn’t the first occasion she had done this to me or to other employees my age. She does this with many tasks such as mopping, taking out the trash, washing the dishes, and wiping down the counters. These jobs are not particularly hard jobs; she just does not want to do them. I would bet my entire paycheck that if I were the same age as Jenny, she would not take advantage of the fact that I am younger than she is. She most likely feels that because I am younger, she can get away with shirking her responsibilities and the work she does not want to do. The supervisor who suggested I clean the machine agreed with her and said, “He needs the training,” even though I had already cleaned it many times.

As young employees, we cannot stick up for ourselves. If we do, we are punished for being disrespectful. I can understand Jenny’s reason for making me clean the machine, but she is an employee just like me and does not have authority over me in the work place.

Sam Schubert is 17 years old and is a junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. He runs cross-country, plays soccer, and competes in track and field. He is still working in that fast-food restaurant on weekends but plans on switching jobs. Sam is seeking a scholarship for track and field to attend a four-year college, study kinesiology, and eventually become a physical therapist.

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Becoming an AdultAndrew Erwin

Growing up means taking responsibility for your life. Many teens are not prepared for the abrupt leap from

being a teenager to an adult. Breaking free from your parents seems great at the time, but it always hits you when you have to start fending for yourself. I believe that becoming an adult does not suddenly hit when you’re eighteen; adulthood is when you move on from your parents’ authority and have to care for yourself, by yourself.

There are many advantages and disadvantages to becoming an adult. For instance, if I was an adult and I wanted to have a cookie, I’d have a cookie. In fact, if I wanted to, I could eat a whole box. I could ruin my entire appetite if I chose. I could call my mom and tell her I just ruined my appetite, and she couldn’t do anything about it. As a child, I benefit from my parents ensuring that I maintain a healthy diet. As adults, we have the responsibility of making choices for ourselves even though our choices may be unhealthy.

The responsibilities of an adult are far greater than those of a child. An adult has to worry about keeping a steady job,

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paying bills and taxes, keeping their family safe and protected. Adults are responsible for themselves and their actions while minors are living under the steady arm of their parents. Minors can make mistakes and not have to deal with the consequences that adults must face. Whether you end up rich or poor, incarcerated or free, drunk or sober, it’s all on you.

Some of the responsibilities as a teenager are school, work, sports, and chores. Over the summer, I worked with my dad who is a fiber-splicing technician. Generally, a telecommunications company will have just a few fiber-splicers because it takes years of training and not many people are qualified. A fiber-splicer is the technician who goes to the enclosure locations and splices the new fiber with the already existing fibers to create new network pathways. As part of my job, I went to the locations with him in his bucket truck and helped him open the vaults and get out the enclosure, get it into his truck, and work on the audit sheets and surveys. It was often hard work. Frequently I had to work for up to 12 hours in the heat of his bucket truck without many breaks or ways of cooling down.

I learned that having a job can be miserable, but no matter how tired or worn out you are, you must finish the work before you can go home. A few times I slept on the workbench inside his cable truck between jobs. Work can be exhausting, but I learned that I have to do it anyway because it is my responsibility.

I believe that having a job builds character. It forces you to complete your duty before you can do anything else. This teaches teenagers about the real world. In society, you can’t just show up whenever you want and slack off and expect to get paid. No, you have to go through hard labor before you can reap the reward of a paycheck.

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Although being an adult is hard work, some privileges and opportunities are present; at the same time, adult privileges also come with great responsibility. Being allowed to gamble and play the lottery are only acceptable for adults, because adults are trusted to manage their finances. A night out of drinking with friends, for instance, can be a very dangerous way of having fun. You may have work the next day, in which case you have to factor in how much you can handle and how you are getting home. Voting is a gift for adults to voice their opinion on how our country should be led. Growing up has some great perks if you know how to use them correctly.

Being an adult doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. Sure, you can go to that party everyone is talking about, but you may have work the next morning. If you have too much fun and get arrested, nobody’s going to be there to bail you out; you have to suffer the consequences and go to jail. On the other hand, a minor can get away with just about anything and get sent back to their parents.

It’s important for kids to realize the importance and responsibility that comes with being an adult. It’s not just fun and games, you actually have to grow up and get a grip on your life. If you don’t stay in line, there will be consequences. Make sure you’re ready.

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Andrew Erwin is a Junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. He likes to ride BMX, skate, play drums, play sports such as football and wrestling, and hang out with friends. He would like to go to a community college aftert graduating high school then transfer to a four-year college. Andrew wants to go into the field his dad works in: telecommunications. After learning a lot from his job over the summer, he believes that’s where he’d like to work as an adult. He’s generally lazy, but if he can get his mind on something, he knows he can accomplish anything.

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Drive Like You Stole ItThomas Andres Chestnut

There are many rules young people my age have to follow that I find unclear. Lots of people my age are assumed

to have troubles following rules and be irresponsible. One rule that is really irritating is that when you get your driver’s license, you cannot drive anyone under 21 around for a whole year.

Anyway, one day on a Friday right after school, my two friends jumped into my Jeep and we all headed to my house. It was the start of the weekend, and we all gave a sigh of relief knowing that it would be a stress-free night. When we arrived at my house, we talked and talked about things that were on our minds: food, girls, cars. After awhile, we left my house and went to pick up another one of our buddies. Then we met up with some more friends in Santa Cruz. We went out to eat at Jack in the Box and then headed home. On the way home I got into a race with some girls on Scotts Valley Drive. It was an intense race. We couldn’t lose because, well, we couldn’t lose to girls. At the same time, we were trying to impress them. After we were done racing, I guess I can say I won because the finish line was at the beginning of Sky Park.

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We drove off with a lot of dignity that night, but it wasn’t over.

Once I dropped off one of friends at my school’s parking lot, there were just two of my friends and myself in the car. My friends dared me to drive up the curb of the curved bridge in Felton. I couldn’t back down. We were having such a good night…so I did it. A whole ten seconds were daring and fun until I saw bright, scary, red and blue lights go off behind me. I was surprised, because they came out of nowhere. Actually, they were right behind me when I did it.

The police pulled me over. I was laughing at myself while my friends in the back were freaking out. While pulled over, I saw people coming back from the football game in Soquel look at me with their jaws dropped. It was really embarrassing to be seen with two sheriffs. The officer asked me why I had driven up the curb. I made a stupid excuse and he didn’t fall for it. I lied and told him, “My wheel base is too wide, so it’s hard to go around the curb.” He did not believe me and went back to his car. I looked at my friends; they were shocked and scared. The officer then wrote me a ticket and told me to go home. I realized how lucky I was he didn’t take my license.

My parents were pretty mad. I argued with my dad.“Well…you used to do stuff like that when you were my

age!” “This isn’t the 80s any more!” he yelled back.I’m grounded and have to pay for my ticket. Now that I

think about it, a whole year of not being able to drive another person can show how mature young people can be as we learn about how to become responsible. It’s important to take responsibility for yourself and others and not make a fool out of yourself. Most rules like this one encourage young people to be responsible individuals.

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I have many flaws and have not yet met the requirements to become a responsible person. To learn from flaws will also make me think about the past and avoid making the same mistakes. The key things someone needs to be a responsible person are not having a job or doing homework. They are the time you spend getting things done and the way you present yourself to people.

Thomas “Tommy” Chestnut is 16 years old and goes to San Lorenzo Valley High School. He has lived in the Valley all of his life and is planning to leave as soon as possible because it gets pretty boring up here. Tommy lives with his two parents and his two siblings: his older sister Monica and his younger brother Andrew. He plays water polo, is on the swim team, and likes to wear speedos. He enjoys camping, going off-roading in his Jeep, and hanging out with the Boiz (Sam Keadle, Michael Cremonini, Sebastian Voman-Nell, and Ethan Chambers). He dedicates this story to Sherriff Officer McCall. “My star, my perfect silence.”—Walt Whitman.

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Joy RideSotero Torralba

As a kid, finding a job can be frustrating. This is why I was desperate to keep mine.

When my boss asked me to drive to town one day, I was eager to help. Little did my boss know that although I think I can drive, I cannot drive legally. I knew this was a serious problem, but I pushed passed it…trying to please my boss. Of course, when you’re driving illegally you are at a huge disadvantage in that you don’t actually know how to drive a car.

Everything started out well. I started the car, rolled down the windows, and cranked the music up, hoping it would boost my confidence. As I pulled out of the yard onto the road, it started to sprinkle. Soon the small mountain road changed into huge S-turns and blind corners. I had made it to town safely, but when I headed back up the winding hill the small sprinkle had turned into a thundering storm.

I had built up confidence by the time I made it back to the gates of my work, so when I saw the truck pulling out, I didn’t even bat an eye. Being the over-confident teenager I was (and possibly still am), I pulled the car over to the right.

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The front right side crashed down hard! The truck was able to pass and I jumped out of the car to assess the damage. It didn’t look good. My front right tire had sunk so deep in the mud I could barely see it. This in turn boosted the back left tire about three feet in the air. I jumped back into the car, popped into reverse and pushed down hard on the gas. I could feel the tires desperately sliding in the mud. This then rocketed mud all over the sides of the car and through the open windows until the car blended into the hillside.

I was forced to swallow my pride and call my boss. Joe is not known for his kindness. The short, stout, dark-skinned man never said much to me (which is good because I could barely understand most things through his thick accent), but I remembered when my co-worker Carl had wrapped the company golf cart around a tree last year. Joe was pretty cool about it.

By the time Joe made his way up the hill to meet me, he wasn’t happy, and the van wasn’t getting any less stuck. Joe was forced to call a tow truck and, as he did, I could (barely) hear him saying, “Damn these kids.” I understood why he was angry but really there was no damage done to the van. I, of course, paid for the tow truck, but I was still asked to go home and wasn’t asked to come back for a couple of weeks.

I have had a lot of time to think about this situation and I think Joe was only mad because I was a “kid” and he had to go out of his way to deal with it. If I had been able to get the van out on my own, then possibly there would have been no negative consequences.

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Sotero Torralba is a 16-year-old junior at San Lorenzo Valley High School. He loves to drive and looks forward to getting his license one day. After high school he plans to go to community college and then enter the police academy.

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Legal Drama QueenRachel Olmsted

For as long as I can remember, my dad has played softball with a (now) 28-year-old guy named Beau. Beau’s

trademark has always been having a nice car. He was driving a 2007 Silver Dodge Charger when I first met him. I wanted to drive it the second I laid eyes on it. Just recently, he started to drive a 2008 BMW 328i with black leather interior and a sunroof.

Right round the time he started to drive the BMW, I was due to take my permit test. I made a deal with him that if I passed my first time with less than five mistakes, he would let me drive his car. Days later, I went to take my permit test and sure enough I passed with only two mistakes. I texted Beau to tell him I passed and that I was driving his car the next time I saw him.

Beau had started dating a woman named Sarah a couple of weeks before he got rid of his Charger. I could tell Beau really liked this woman; I was happy for him. You would never see Beau without Sarah. Whether it was at the grocery store or the softball field, they were inseparable. She was 29, with long black hair and a very athletic body. She also had two

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kids. After about a year, I stopped seeing Sarah come around.

I wondered what had happened or where she had gone. I finally built up the nerve to ask Beau, and sure enough they had broken up... Sarah had always been the jealous type.

I saw Beau a couple of days later at his softball game with my dad. The game felt like it would never end. I couldn’t wait to drive this car. The whole softball team knew how excited I was to drive his car. They offered to take pictures as I drove by.

We got to the other field and I looked through the pictures they took. Like any other teenager would do, I posted it on Facebook and Instagram with the caption: “New Car.” Little did I remember that Sarah and I were still friends on Facebook…

I woke up next morning to a text from Sarah that read, “Are you and Beau together?”“Are you asking if I’m with him?” I replied. “No, as in dating, silly.”

The conversation carried on for about an hour with an abundance of different emotions. She used an immense amount of profanity and vulgar remarks. She proceeded to act like an immature teenage girl who doesn’t know how to act her own age.

Beau is 28 years old, not to mention my unofficial older brother. The fact that Sarah even thought it would be a possibility that I was dating somebody twelve years older is dumbfounding. She got it all wrong… she thought I was in love with him, but really I was in love with his car….

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Rachel Olmsted is a 16-year-old high school student who goes to San Lorenzo Valley High School. She has played basketball and softball since second grade and plans to finish high school continuing to play these sports. She is also looking forward to attending Portland State University in the fall of 2016.

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Acknowledgements

This project owes much to teacher Aron Conger who stepped bravely to the plate to bat one out of the park

for his students and the Young Writers Program. Willing to learn, agreeably flexible, and responsive to students, Mr. Conger took on the topic of personal narrative with his students and learned a lot in the process. We owe much of the contents in this book to his steadiness and unflappability.

Young Writers Program Volunteer Coordinator Paige Petersen brought her courage and tenacity to the project, stepping in for a Writing Project Assistant and providing a mini-lesson to students on the difference between expository and personal narrative. Brava, Paige.

Writing Project Assistants Marcia Adams, Erik Forrester, Lynn Mooney, and Ruthe Smith gamely listened to these teenagers’ stories and provided support and guidance. Their respect for and enjoyment of these young people’s dreams and challenges helped lift the quality of the stories to another level.

Sara Wilbourne provided her usual sharp eye to editing and Stuart Rodriguez formatted the content into an easy-on-the-eye layout that’s a hallmark of the Young Writers Program. As always, Justin Carder provided a unique and dynamic cover design that complements the rest of the books on our shelf.

And while they may be mentioned last here, the student writers in Mr. Conger’s class are the real cause for celebration. They struggled through some initial confusion and worked to

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define topics, clarify their thinking, and revise their writing. Their stories are the product of this hard work and we are so pleased to feature them in one of our publications.

Write on!

Julia ChiapellaDirector, Young Writers Program