The first time Avery asked about her mother, she was five. She didn't remember much. Just bits and pieces. But she did recall her and her dad were outside, sitting on their favorite bench – An old, worn-out piece of furniture they liked to lounge on to pass time. All starry-eyed, she asked her dad and got the standard, out-of-the-textbook answer. “She's in a better place hon,” he said, carrying her into his lap. She remembered looking into his eyes. “A better place?” She was confused. “What could be better than being with us?” He laughed and looked into the distance. “You're just going to ask her if you ever meet her.” Six years later, Avery finally understood what being in a better place meant. And to be honest, it didn't bother her as much as she expected. It had always been her dad who had been there for her. Plus, she had never met her mom before and didn't mind cutting her out of the picture. Personally, it was okay with just her and papa anyways. So, it could be imagined the shock fourteen-year-old Avery got, walking in on a phone call her dad was having. “You can't just –!” He was pacing up and down, a habit of his when he was nervous. “Thirteen years Kate! You didn't even call!” Avery moved her feet and began to climb the stairs. She knew when somebody needed their privacy. “But she's our daughter. Your child.” Avery stopped in her tracks. “Couldn't –” He paused. “Couldn't you come to see her at least once?” Silence. Then a muffled voice. And a sigh. Avery couldn't recall what happened exactly. All she remembered was the crushing feeling she had when she realized that her mum was actually alive and probably didn't want her. The shock went just as fast as it came. She made no indication that she knew, and her dad didn't deem it fit to tell her. So, life went on, until it didn't. At least for her dad. Avery was proud to say she didn't cry. Not when she found her dad on the floor. Not when he was rushed to the hospital by the neighbors. Not when she came to visit him and saw him all pale and haggard. Not when she heard the news. Not even after the funeral. She told herself over and over again that she would not cry, and she didn't. People she had never met. People she knew. Everyone told her it was going to be okay, that they understood. But Avery knew that they didn't. After the funeral, Avery had to stay with her dad's sister, Aunt Veronica. In order for that to work out, she had to move. New house, new school, new friends. It was all very strange for her. Everything seemed to be happening too fast for her to catch up. Nobody thought to ask her how she felt about it all, until she met Mrs. Ada. Mrs. Ada, the temporary stand-in for Mr. Jacobs, the English teacher, was petite, brunette-haired lady who was said to be too nice for her own good. After class one day, Mrs. Ada called her back. “Avery?” Mrs. Ada called. “Could I see you for a moment?” Avery took a seat, wondering what this was about. Sure, she wasn't a star student. But she definitely wasn't failing. And even if she was, Avery didn't think Mrs. Ada had it in her to chew her out. Mrs. Ada pushed her glasses up her nose, a comforting smile on her face. “I've noticed you've got a lot on your mind lately, and I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it.” She paused, scanning Avery's face. “I know being a new student and all that can be a little too much –“ She continued, “ – but I just wanted to say that I'm here if you ever got anything troubling you, okay?” Avery muttered something along the lines of a thanks and began to stand up. “Hold on.” Mrs. Ada interrupted. She bent to bring out something from her bag. It was a black notebook with some words on the front. “I heard about your dad.” She placed the black book in her hands. The front cover read: 'There's no greater agony than keeping an untold story inside of you' – Maya Angelou. Mrs. Ada winked at her, “It's my favorite quote. For times you don't feel like talking, it might surprise you how well writing helps.” Avery rushed out of the classroom, a stuffy feeling in her chest. When she got home, she brought out the book and stared. After a minute of silence, she opened to the first page and began to write. About her dad, the mom she never met, how she felt, her new school. About everything. And for the first time, Avery let the tears fall.

I was a normal not-so-happy 19 year old girl with so much hope for a better future and I was quite excited because exams were drawing near (crazy right?)but I wasn't excited about the exams per say, it was more about the fact that after exams, I was supposed to be going for my six months industrial training and that was a good thing because I was going to make some money plus I love being in a work environment and I was looking forward to those six month of meeting new people, being away from home and school, being independent and the thought that after these glorious productive months, I was going to be entering my final year in school after all the delays I had faced due to interruptions caused by school riots and strikes and honestly, I was beginning to get anxious about everything. On the 18th day of March 2020, my world came crashing down right before my eyes. I am not exaggerating! Ok, first, in my school, we hardly ever have electricity or television time but that particular day, we had electricity and I went to my neighbour's house to watch television and catch up with what going on in the world and just then I tuned to CNN and I was met with the most horrible news I ever heard in my lifetime and that was the fast spreading mysterious disease from China, COVID-19. The news particularly said that countries were shutting down schools and worship centres and I knew at that point that this year was going to be the worst after all. On the 20th day of March, my country Nigeria, declared all schools and worship centres closed till further notice and my mum sent for me to come home immediately. This was how it all started. Now, I knew I was going to be at home for a while due to the pandemic so I had to come with a strategy to make my stay at home less traumatic. This was going to be me staying at home 24/7 with my mum. So my approach was to read a lot and just do my chores without being reminded, basically to avoid getting in trouble with my mum. It was going on well, me going about my chores and burying myself in books and my phone just basically avoiding her. Things were looking different in a good way for me; the house was over stocked with food so there was no need to go out. I broke up with my ex whom I dated for 5 years, thing is, I never really loved him and I've never even kissed him because he schools in a different state but he was so good to me and he was crazy about me for some reason I can't still understand so I felt I should date him. After breakup, I started talking to this new guy and he was so cool we were always texting and he recently graduated from my school so he asked me out and in the spur of the moment, I accepted two days after I broke up with my ex. Almost immediately after accepting, I started to feel unsure about my decision because I knew that I didn't love him and he was a good guy, I couldn't afford to hurt him but at the same time, this was the same situation with my ex. Just then, my other ex, (my first sex partner ever, the only guy I literally ever loved but fucked things up because I get scared every time I get too happy because I feel it'll end so soon and I'll be back to being sad and the I'd feel like a fool.) he somehow popped on my phone and we started talking and I realised that I might still have strong feelings for him plus my immediate ex was still begging me to take him back and my boss was also proposing a relationship. At this point, I had to be the most confused person alive considering the fact that I'm not a person that is used to display of emotions and all, so I was kind of just flowing with everyone. Then there was an incident where my neighbour was beating up his wife and everyone was just quiet ignoring but my mum went over to their house and started a fight with the man, he threatened her and they exchanged words. Well of course, through all this, my mum never had a reason to hit us or shout or any of that up until my sister told her that she was lagging behind on her online test and that set my mum off. She started cursing her and shouting at her and hitting her also and my sis, being under attack obviously went for defense but this aggravated the situation all the more and she became physical. Cutting off my sister's natural beautiful hair and my sis wanted to leave at that point, I had to intercede and beg both parties to act reasonably and the whole situation was pacified that day. But from then, it was clash after clash between both of them and I was the middle man which meant me taking most of the punches and once more, we're back to misery. My pandemic experience so far has been horrible and I really can't wait for all this to be over or for the world to end already.

Christmas was always my mom's favorite holiday. Personally, mine was Halloween and it still is. My mom would make all our favorite Christmas dishes. From roast pig to coquito (spanish egg nog) to meat pies. Making the meat pies was the most fun. Having such a big family we would create an assembly line. Each of us in charge of a specific part of putting the meat pie together. The youngest in the family got the last position since it was the easiest. All they had to do was count all of them and keep track of how many were made. It was usually between 200-300 meat pies. As far as gifts were concerned, most of the living room furniture was taken out because of the abundance of presents. Now, there wasn't much money for decorating. That is until my mother discovered the 99 cents store. She had lights and garland and elves and new ornaments. In fact, our tree had more ornaments than the tree at Rockefeller Center. They dated back to the fifties all the way through the current Christmas. Ornaments of all shapes and sizes and themes. Of course the main attraction was a porcelain baby Jesus that had been in our family since my parents got married back in 1948. Unfortunately, it was stolen during that Christmas. It stayed covered under the tree until Christmas Eve and would be uncovered only after my parents danced to the family Christmas song, “El Burrito de Belen”. That's when the festivities would start. None of us knew that the Christmas of 1997 would be the last one my mom would be celebrating with us. Or that it would be 5 years before we celebrated Christmas again. Our mom fell ill the following year and wound up in ICU on a respirator in August of 1998. We were close friends with our local Assembly Woman and she arranged for one of us to be with our mom 24/7. My mom was never alone. We knew she wouldn't be leaving the hospital. She passed 10 days before her birthday and 3 months before their 50th anniversary. With her gone my family was not in the mood to celebrate Christmas. We didn't feel right doing it without our mom. Although we exchanged presents there were no lights and decorations. All of us had agreed that we'll know when it was time to celebrate again. For 5 years this went on. Until I came across something that let me know that it was time. In the store window was a porcelain baby Jesus almost identical to the one that was stolen. I bought it and snuck it under the tree. I put a note on it for my older sister to find. It simply read “It's time we celebrate again”. Nobody objected. This time around we felt it was right to put up all the lights and the decorations. Before my mom passed she told my other sister “Don't worry. All of you will be ok.” All i can say is, like always, she was right. We were all going to be ok.

As a Literature specialized student in Le Hong Phong High school for the Gifted, I used to believe, as everyone else in my society, that I am not gifted at those science subjects like math, physics, chemistry, etc,... Doing scientific research is totally out of the question. However, in summer 2017, one of my friends dared me to apply to a science camp in Quy Nhon province and guessed who would be accepted. I accepted that challenge and, surprisingly, I won. That was the turning point that brought me to the path of scientific researching. Coming back from the trip, I decided to apply what I learned by participating the Intel Science and Engineering Fair (ISEF) of my school. The first step is the hardest. I did not know what topic I should study about. But once again, luck was by my side. I surfed the Internet and came across a video which presented a process of producing plastic food; what surprised me, however, was that numerous people shared that clip these kinds of following captions: “Some bad people with vile purpose are selling that food to kill us”. Incredulous, I looked for information on Google, only to have found that no bad people want to kill us; rather, it was just some kind of Japan's processing technology. That was not the first time I have felt uncomfortable with several individuals sharing news without double-checking the facts. That is an indication of lacking critical thinking (CT). This sparked an idea in me, and I went with CT right away. Then, I had a nice partner, two wonderful mentors, and numerous kind people (even strangers) who was next to me in that difficult reaching the summit trip. Those extraordinary supports are valuable motivation which fuels me to run farther on the scientific researching path, until now. There are no chances and no changes if I did not change my mindset and give myself a chance. Be willing to be exposed, you can fly so far. . Biopage Mini-Essay Writing Contest is my new chance. Absolutely, the upcoming changes are bigger, better and brighter than that of the past.