I've always been attracted to the air, the mere feeling inside airports. The freedom. I don't just mean the fact you are equally as valid buying a coffee at 8 pm as you are buying a beer at 6 am. For one, the diversity inside an airport is unmatched by any one place in the world. People are coming and going from their countries and cities, passing through, never staying, yet we are all there for the same reason. As different as I am from every person on my flight, I am the same in one way: location. These were the kinds of thoughts that overtook my brain the day I flew from Portland, Oregon to Barcelona, Spain. 18 then, alone, excited, scared, and apparently in a philosophical headspace. While everyone on that flight headed towards the same location, only one eighteen-year-old girl moved across the world alone for her education. I didn't feel any sort of regret, perpetual fear, yeah. Distinctly, I understood my entire life would change completely when my flight landed. I'd had transitional life periods before, moving cities with my family for example, or the summer between middle school and high school. Nothing from my past could even attempt to compare to that flight. It was as if I'd walked out of the front door of my house only to look back and see an abyss. There was no return, only advancement. Creating a life in a new country as an eighteen-year-old with no family, friends, or support system might seem like an impossible task, an entirely undesirable one, but to me, it just screamed freedom--opportunity. No set path meant choices. For the first time in my life, I could be and do exactly what I wanted. Now, to be clear, this wasn't an overnight impulsive decision. I did put a lot of thought into my overseas move. Two months prior I'd been admitted into Geneva Business School in Barcelona. I had a Residency Visa for Spain. I'd already put a downpayment down on a room in a shared apartment in Barrio Gotic. I felt prepared, more or less. Moving Abroad proved to have its difficulties. For one, my Spanish lacked fluency. My free time was spent entirely alone, and I no longer looked at the same sky as my family and friends back home. Yet, Barcelona, as I describe it now, is just like an airport. While alone, I never felt lonely. Barcelona´s residents, being 27% foreigners, welcomed me with open arms. Walking the corridors of the city's oldest district (with buildings older than my entire country) felt like a dream. Five days after my arrival, I began my first day at the University. My school, being the private business school it is, attracts a lot of foreigners. The seats in my classes filled up with people from Sweden, Egypt, India, Brazil, and basically every country you can think of. In a class of twenty students, eighteen nationalities were present. My school held one more highly desirable trait: Every single one of us wanted companionship. We were all new to Barcelona. Before the end of the first week, I was getting coffee with classmates and planning weekend outings with a group of girls. Now, as I learn the local language, study Entrepreneurship, and live in the only place I've ever felt truly happy, I can say without a single doubt I made the right choice. Things settled, as they always do, in the exact way they were supposed to. Could I have just gone to OSU in Oregon? Yes, of course. Did I have to choose one of the most intense and difficult paths in my life? No, but I wanted to. I live with a constant feeling of FOMO. My life doesn't feel nearly long enough. I am constantly in a desire for the best, most unique experiences to fill out my life. To me, the string of memories that my life will be in the end is all that matters.

June of 2022. So far, I got an IELTS to get privielege from English subject and focused on studying the newly added subject of law for the entrance exams to the Tashkent State University of Law. I clearly remember the times that I read a law book for eight hours from morning till night without even going to school. This went on until January, and by January I had almost finished the books like 20 times. At that times I got very deep know to win against the law students of our whole region. I've won all the money from block tests, all the prizes, and some education centres even rejected me, just because I've been taking all the money. It was a wonderful times. And then June came. It was very difficult to study in the heat, it was very difficult to not sleep in the afternoon, but I did not stop, because there was very little time left until August. The exam was supposed to be on August 15th. On the night of July 28th, I remember very precisely, I was walking into the next room after my native language class and I heard a girl saying: "Exam dates have been announced, August 1st!!!!" And I was shocked when I heard that. I came home quickly. When I got home, I started planning for the next four days. I'll give you an idea of how hard I studied in those four days -- four days of reviewing the 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th grade law textbooks, the Constitution, the 6th, 7th, 8th, 10th grade history of Uzbekistan, and 10 block tests. So imagine that I did a 15-day plan in just four days. And finally, the long-awaited day that I never thought would be so tragic for me finally arrived. I was so excited about the test building that I felt 100% confident that I had the maximum knowledge to pass the test. As I walked into the building, I felt more confident and took a big step. The tests were distributed, and I had two hours. I opened the textbook, and I did my first law exam. And I was so happy to open it, because it was so easy to do the law test, and I could do it in just eight minutes. And the joy of doing compulsory subjects has stayed with me. But as soon as I opened the math compulsory block, all of a sudden the excitement was gone. I struggled to answer those three questions, and I was about to give up, but then I remembered the difficulties I had faced during my matriculation, and I felt that those three questions were nothing. Again, with the fire in my eyes, I was thinking logically, drawing, and working on the questions that I couldn't get out of math. I was so excited, I thought it was going to be at least 187.9, score, so I started copying the answers from textbook to the actual title.There was very little time left to copy, I had to copy two questions per minute. I got it right on time. I was so excited about the fact that I could now compare my transcript to my transcript and shout it out loud when I got out, that I took my transcript and compared it to my transcript. And I looked question 41, which was a B in my test book and an A in the title. I couldn't believe my eyes and I checked it three times. It was as if ice water had been poured on the fire in my eyes.I quickly handed the title to the controller, and a minute ago, the boy who was thinking about shouting loudly could not even make a little sound. I've gotten to the point where I don't want to step out of the binomial that I've stepped into. I felt like a celebrity when I walked out, because there were so many people who knew me and wanted to know if I had scored 189 score or not. Unfortunately, I had misplaced the question, which was worth 3.1 points, in the exact title, and I couldn't fix it, and no one would listen to me. Imagine, from January to August, I never scored less than 186 to 189 on any of the block tests, but I may have mistaken the easy test two or three times over the block test. I don't regret making mistakes because of my lack of knowledge, but I'm hurt that I made mistakes when I had access to the grant with my knowledge. So I was recommended to TDYU as a contract student. My family felt sorry for my work, but they encouraged me, believing that there was some wisdom in it ... .

Hello, everyone! I'm Khabibullokh, a 19-year-old from Uzbekistan, and I want to share a memorable experience from my life that happened last year in 2023. It's a story about my journey to the United States for the Work and Travel program as a J1 student. Getting the visa was a dream come true, but the reality hit hard when I had to fly 16 hours from Tashkent to New York all by myself. The 9-hour time difference was challenging, and I had no one to guide me. No friends or family waiting at the airport, but I embraced the challenge. I found a taxi, booked a hotel, and took a few days to rest. Soon after, I headed to Massachusetts for my primary job at Dunkin' Donuts as a cashier. I loved working there, giving it my all, helping my colleagues, and having a great time. But as weeks passed, I realized living in the US is expensive. I almost depleted my savings on rent, food, and transportation. It was time to find a second job. I applied everywhere, from stores to pizza places to restaurants, but no one was interested without a social security card. Panic set in as my funds dwindled, and I felt trapped. One day, on my way back from Dunkin', I stumbled upon a store in Falmouth on Main Street called Dogz and Hogz. There, I met Michael Bullard, an older gentleman, and his wife Linda Bullard. Michael was busy making delicious hot dogs. I explained my situation, having no money, and he generously gave me some hot dogs for free. We chatted, became close friends, and I found the lifeline I desperately needed. I mentioned my job struggles and the lack of a social security card, and to my surprise, Michael said, "I don't care about your social. Don't worry." I was over the moon! We started working together, making those delicious hot dogs, and Linda even helped me with my social security number. The Bullards became the only people who helped me in this tough time. Working with them was incredible. We not only had a blast making hot dogs but also enjoyed other activities. They bought me jeans, food, and took me to gingerbread houses and even a yacht. They paid me generously and treated me like family. These kind-hearted people are truly brilliant, and I am forever grateful to them. So, to Michael and Linda Bullard, thank you for being my saviors in a foreign land. Your kindness and generosity turned a challenging time into an unforgettable experience. Welcome to Uzbekistan anytime!

Although the initial fear about a new contagious coronavirus spread around the world in February 2020, it could not worry me at that time. I was preparing to start a new semester as an exchange graduate student in South Korea. I was over the moon, because I had dreamed of studying and traveling abroad all my life, and with just one step, the biggest dream would come true. As soon as the plane landed, we realised that we were in a different world. Everyone complied with the quarantine regulations, we arrived on campus and settled into the dormitory. However, the quarantine was strict, small trips around campus and the city were allowed for exchange students. Everything was great until I had a terrible accident with my bike on campus in the middle of April. It was an evening when I was bringing dinner for me and my roommates from a restaurant near our campus. I was not a professional bike rider, I was just riding at low speed because I lacked confidence. I was in a hurry because we had to go to Korean language class at 7 p.m., so I increased my speed. There was only one hill left and I was supposed to reach the dorm, but suddenly someone appeared on my way down the hill and I lost my balance and crashed to him. When I regained consciousness, I did not realize what had happened or how much time had passed. I was lying under my bike and about 2 meters away from me an old man was screaming in pain. Several students who were passing by immediately came to help and called the ambulance and the police. The old man sat there holding his leg and moaning in pain. Soon the ambulance and police arrived, they took the old man out of the car to give him first aid, and I found that one of the doctors spoke English, and I begged him to explain that I was sorry. I do not know if it was because of anger or pain, but he did not answer. The police began to question me. At that moment, one of the doctors told me that my hand was injured and that I needed first aid. Only then I felt a severe pain in the wrist of my right hand and I could not move my palm. The policemen looked at me with unusual suspicion and said they would go to our dormitory to check my documents. After that, they said they would contact me, then another ambulance arrived and took me to the hospital. As I sat in the ambulance, I still could not understand what had happened, I felt like a criminal. When the doctor who examined the X-ray results at the hospital said that my wrist bone was broken, that it needed to be operated on quickly, and that the surgery would cost $4,500-5,000, it all seemed was over. I could barely control myself , it was a huge amount in Uzbekistan currency, and it was obvious that my parents could not send me that much money. My friends got me out of the hospital and we came back to dorm and I asked them not to tell my family. I was facing a very difficult problem: my parents have always believed in me, but now if they find out about this incident, they may be horrified. Besides, they would have to borrow a large sum to send money for the operation. That night I could not sleep, it was the longest and hardest night of my life. The unbearable pain in my hand, as well as the thought that the achievements I had made so far were ruined because of this mistake and that no one would trust me anymore, gave me no peace. I fantasized about all the ways to make money, because my decision was made up, no matter what, I will not tell my family members! We consulted all day with my friends to find a solution, but we did not come up with a definite idea. Desperate, tired, and racked with pain, I returned to the dorm. My phone connected to the wifi, I checked the messages from Telegram, and there was a reply message from the insurance company. I immediately replied to the message and described the whole process. When I heard from him that my request could be accepted, all my pain was washed away with tears. Next day, I was told that I had to go to Chosun National University Hospital, where they would operate on my hand and all the costs would be covered by the company. After 2 days from surgery I left the hospital, successfully finished the semester with excellent grades and returned to Uzbekistan in July. By the way, the old man I had injured was a good person and did not sue me in any way, as I was told by the policeman who came at the end of the semester to close the case. At that moment I realized that I was a really lucky girl: otherwise I or an old man would have been seriously injured, he would have sued for damages, the insurance company would not have covered the expenses, and I would have lost the trust of my family and would have experienced a series of similar disappointments. But fortunately, everything turned out well, leaving only a scar on my right hand after the surgery.

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My life is easier than most during this time. It's hardly changed at all. Three times a week, we try to untwist my spine. Leaving the house is no issue at all. Wake up late to load my laptop, yet I log onto school on time. The only issue is homework refusing to load, but that hasn't changed anything at all. My routine has stayed the same, yet an overhanging cloud slowly starts to fill the air. My family's concerns over something unseen seeps into my own worry. No one there seems to care for the safety of others. Nothing has changed there at all. A slight anxiety gnaws at me. It bites and it tastes yet its teeth don't sink in. So nothing has changed there at all. With more corruption coming to light, more hatred and anger, the cloud starts to grow, and the fangs grow longer. But I'll stay silent about it, so nothing has changed there. They talk about it more - my parents, I mean. Politics and illness and people who don't make sense - every day, every hour, and the news is always on. That's new. I keep picking at my skin, slight anxiety seeping in. I bleed without feeling it, the pain far away. My fingers are chapped, my lips torn apart. But it will heal, so it's fine. Nothing new there, anyway. Things are happening around me. Friends of family dying, family being reckless, family not understanding the danger they're in. Family wanting to be blind to it all. I eat more skin off my fingers, more off my lips. The scent of lavender is calming, soothing, and I give in. Keep trying to unwind my spine, but excuses prevent my family from helping me get help. It's happening more than usual, but it's not really anything new. I can't watch anything without my family referencing politics, or anything really, that I'm trying to escape from. Don't they know it's to escape? To get away from this world, even just for an hour? So that's new. Everything else is the same for me. I don't feel trapped in my house. I just don't want to go outside. I leave three times a week. My homework is lagging, but it stays the same. I keep scratching and picking til I bleed, but bandages and lavender are there for me. Nothing is normal, but it's all the same.

As 2020 began, I had high hopes that it would follow in 2019's footsteps and be a great year. I was wrong. I was supposed to go to college this year, but I don't see the favors coming over my side, because the government has cancelled most of our competitive exams. This new disease, COVID-19, has flipped our worlds upside down from these last few weeks. At first, when I heard about this virus, I didn't pay any attention to it at all. I told myself that it was only a small disease and that it would stop soon. But in the end, it was the other way around. Months went by and the infection got worse. I started to realize the impact it has on human life and the importance of taking care of myself, to protect not only me but also others. As the media and government told us, it is important to stay at home because we can spread the virus without knowing it. Typically on a Monday, I would've been up at 7 am, going to study in my coaching classes from 9 am to 5 pm. Then after I used to spend some chill time with my friends or just take a walk in the local park. I always have something to do during the day. Many people think I'm pretty crazy for always having such a jam packed schedule but that's just how I function. Now on this Monday morning in quarantine, I woke up at 10 am, looked through social media for 45 minutes before I got out of the bed. And it would be great to say that, I've been studying for my classes and finally started that intense workout plan I've always wanted to do. It would probably be great to do all the tedious tasks that I've put off doing because I simply “never had time”. But now that this quarantine has granted me so much time, I haven't. I haven't done much of anything. Since the lockdown, I've had trouble finding motivation in doing anything other than getting out of bed and begrudgingly logging onto my Zoom classes. My thoughts on online classes? I was never a fan of online classes, never thought I would, but look at me now. In the midst of writing this, my teacher updated my math grades! How lovely, my grade is currently at a B… guys. Besides my math class, how am I supposed to take my other classes? Physics? Chemistry? At the same time. This quick transition from having in-person classes to now online classes is such an overwhelming feeling and I haven't even started. I'm pretty sure when I wished that i had some break for relaxation from the hectic schedule, this is definitely not what I had in mind. There's only so much Netflix and YouTube I could watch before I go crazy. Typically, I don't really watch that much Netflix because I always have something to do, so this transition isn't so easy. After the first couple days of being home and not being allowed out, I got sick of watching TV or browsing my Instagram, Twitter, and Whats-app and repeating it over and over again. I really want to be active. But I'm annoyed by scrolling through social media. Everything on YouTube is boring to me right now. It's so weird that whenever I pick up my phone, I involuntarily go to Instagram or Twitter to mindlessly scroll. I then get back to my room and take a nap. Afterwards, I grab something to eat. This is currently my daily routine. I think I should gain weight before ever catching COVID-19. I decided, instead of looking at people doing their own home/work routine, I would actually do my own routine. I recently joined an organisation which focuses on building Service leaders and Entrepreneurship skills. I'm also learning animation and doodle art, made few videos on YouTube out of them, got a pretty good response. And to be honest, I'm really liking this change. Simple actions such as going out to see your friends or hanging out with them, are now out of the question. Heck, even buying a pizza seems taboo nowadays. Over the past week or two, I've lost count of the days at this point. I've asked myself how to cure this seemingly never-ending loneliness. And like my most recent math test, I'm left with a lot of blank answers. I'm not even sure how long this quarantine will last, or how long I will last quarantined in my place, but all I know is that I'm trying to keep calm. I feel that in this time it's essential for all of us to adopt an optimistic point of view. The situation at hand is stressful, but life is still going on, and it's just as beautiful as it was before all of this. I'm taking the time to enjoy the little things, as well as try to improve on my poorer habits. What we need to remember is that this quarantine isn't going to last forever. We will be able to enjoy the things and the people we love in due time. Right now it's important to stay inside and do our part for the benefit of the world. So sit back, relax, read a book, or call a friend. We will get through this together, standing 6 feet apart, but together nonetheless.

At this point, most of our focus is COVID-19 versus Federal Government and Lockdown issues in Nigeria. I would like to suggest to all our students and teachers in Nigeria to Pray Without Ceasing to God right now to reopen schools because with God all things are possible. This will make us help the Federal Government to take the right decision at the point. Instead of putting too many blames on our leaders and thereby shifting our focus from the reality of COVID-19 pandemic confirmed cases 33, 616 is increasing even more and which is real. The solutions to our problems in Nigeria His in the Hand of God and we should ask God for intervention in our Schools as a whole. Let us think deeply about how coronavirus is spreading very fast and with the effort put in places by the government yet, we are still going through a lot of challenges that have this result to negatively impact on our academics. And also, NCDC in line with the national strategy has continued to scale up diagnostic capacity in Nigeria. Although the Federal Ministry of Education as we all know that they've published Guidelines for Schools and Learning Facilities for reopening Schools. I suggest that prayer will help this case. What is your suggestion? Everyone is free to comment on this suggestion or if any? The article was written by Olusola David, Ayibiowu on Opera News Visit:https://creativeartssolutionfoundation.blogspot.com/2020/07/let-all-students-and-teachers-pray-to.html For more information Source: opera.com Reference: www.operanewsapp.com

Growing up, I never knew I wanted to be a doctor. My talent and passion had always been in writing. On my first day of twelfth grade English class, our first assignment was to write a college essay, list our top colleges, and pick our major. After years of personal struggles and a tumultuous home life, I was at a loss. I never thought college would be on the horizon for me. During this time, I had a discussion with my English teacher about a creative piece I had written for her fiction class. She had told me directly, “I have some good news and some bad news. Writing, English, and a love of fiction is something you will have for the rest of your life. You will never escape it.” It seemed then that the answer was clear: writing would be my career. I began college at City College of New York in the Fall as an English major. From there, I expected it to be a linear path, but as many people say, life doesn't always work out the way you expect it to. Within two months at CCNY, I knew I wasn't being challenged enough, and had fallen into writing solely because I knew it was the one thing I could do well. I wasn't fulfilled in my choice of university or in my studies, so with no plan beyond the knowledge I needed change, I began my transfer applications soon after. The moment I knew I wanted a career in medicine was spent in the pre-surgical unit of Mather Memorial Hospital. While being prepped for a minor procedure, I was placed in a bed next to a woman waiting for an operation on her leg. With nothing but a thin curtain between us, I listened while she had a pre-surgical conversation with the attending anesthesiologist. He went through the normal questions with her, asking about any past medical history, if she had followed pre-surgical instructions, and finally, if she had any questions of her own. It was the next thing she said that changed my life forever: “No, I just want my life back. I want to do the things I used to be able to do. Can you give me my life back?” The anesthesiologist assured her that, yes, they would give her her life back, and it was at that moment I finally knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to be the person who could say that. I wanted to be the person who could give others their lives back. Just as life doesn't always work out linearly, the road to what you want isn't so simple. I transferred to a more academically challenging university and still dealt with the same struggles from before college. My younger siblings still needed help at home, I still needed to deal with my personal battles, and halfway through my academic career, I began helping my partner raise his only daughter, whose mother was not a part of her life. I struggled academically, with the feelings of doubt about my intelligence, and with balancing out all of my familial duties. Just when I felt that maybe I should give up, that maybe this path couldn't be for me, my mother committed suicide. When I received the news, I wish I could say I knew exactly how to feel, whether devastated, confused, or even a sense of relief that her struggle had ended, but I was at a total loss on how to handle the emotions that seemed to change with every passing second. It was usually at this point that I turned to creativity and writing for help, but instead, I turned to medicine. To cope, I suggested to my siblings that we set up a fundraiser for a clinic I had volunteered at in Peru in my mother's honor. Within a week, we had raised enough money for the clinic to receive new lab equipment, and for her sister clinic to renovate a new laboratory. Suddenly, I had my purpose again. In the darkest moment of my life, I found peace in helping others, in the beauty of what science and medicine could do, and in the knowledge that throughout life's challenges, I would have a love of medicine for the rest of my life. I would never escape it. Medicine is numbers, it is facts from a textbook, it is logic, but it also creativity, passion, endurance, and something that I am, and will always be deeply in love with.

Who knew life would be like this one day. We are truly living the fantasy of textbook history. Being a high school student, much of my life has turned upside down. Not knowing when (or how) I will go to college, how I will complete the various passion projects I yearn to do, and how I will discover my true passions for the rest of my life. The amount of uncertainty has brought anxiety and nervousness in all aspects of my life. Being a teenager, the only thing I want is a normal life; a life where I can go to school, see my friends, and learn to grow into a responsible adult. Of course, I am not the only teenager whose feet have been swept off the ground because of this pandemic and the chaos that surrounds our world today. As long as everyone stands together during these rough times, we will be able to get through this pandemic not only quickly, but also as stronger, better people. What I do now is try to help my community. I try to help the community by participating in various events such as can drives and cleaning events. I try to participate in as many volunteering school events as I can while wearing a mask and maintaining social distancing. I see my friends but have to maintain the 6 feet distance, the small distance that seems to have separated families, relationships, and friends. Along with this, I try to maintain a discipline of advancing my studies, so I can go on to become a more intelligent and knowledgeable person when coming out of this pandemic. Every resource I can get my hands on, I try to use. I go rummage through the old books in the musty basement, scavenging for all of the knowledge I can gain. I continue to use the various online platforms I have available to me to try and express myself and learn more about the various career options available to me. This is one the aspects of this pandemic I am most thankful for - the ability to continue to learn and grow through various online platforms. I am thankful to all of the healthworkers and frontline workers putting their life at risk to save the world from this awful, deadly virus. If it were not for them, students like me would probably not have the hope of returning to school this coming fall. They are the reason the number of recovered patients keeps on rising everyday! Hearing about the various tragedies outside of the COVID pandemic continue to strike me. I try to raise my voice in these situations. It hurts to see families affected by the toll of this virus, but slowly (and surely) we will all get through this together!

What is the future going to be like? Is there going to be flying cars, maybe advanced technology? Thinking of 2020 in the past seemed like such a far away place, almost unattainable. We were so sure that by now as a society, there would be a noticeable advancement and peace. What we got instead was sensationalism and fear. In the start of the year all was well, and an overall sense of change was amongst us all. Twenty-Twenty, sounded like such a big year, an imposing yet exciting new change to daily life. Unbeknownst to the public, our troubles were already here. They were lying in wait, dormant almost. Sitting in the previous year we were so eager to leave behind. As it turns out, there were already signs of the virus back in September and October. But these results were deemed an unnecessary worry. How do I know this information? I am currently a Respiratory Therapy student. I was doing clinical hours fervently in several different hospitals each term. I witnessed the progression from a calm, and even joking demeanor. To a worried and stressed disposition from my soon to be peers. My own family took to the craze and even the most sensible soon lost their nerve. My aunt, who is currently a Respiratory Therapist, took the brunt of the news. She received daily updates that she relayed to me. Including the news regarding the fact that Covid-19, was already on the radar back in 2019. Regardless of that, not even my preceptors (Clinical teachers) saw this coming. I quickly went from attending campus and my hospital site, to being at home 24/7. I received a call late one night from my aunt saying " you're not going to school anymore". Confused and alarmed, my only thought was she was kicking me out of school. The school was still sending students to hospitals despite quarantine. The school took the initial thought that every healthcare worker had "its not a big deal". To healthcare workers, we see outbreaks all the time, and live in a different world than the public. My aunt had contacted the school and told them I wouldn't be going to the hospital. Due to the fact that we had my 70 year old grandma at home, who was susceptible to the virus. I felt she was overreacting, but was glad to have a break. Respiratory Therapist's are currently at the forefront of this virus. However the minimum work hours consist of 12 hour shifts 3 times a week. The hours are long and require the entirety of our focus to provide optimal care. Because of this, sometimes our work sabotages our relationships. This is where work becomes our home and co-workers become our family. The last 2 days at my hospital site were spent sitting in the department. Even our preceptors were worried to send us out with them and let us study in silence. This silence had me reflecting on the current events. I worried about one of my preceptors, who had before the flights stopped, left for Italy. I also thought of my aunt, my reason for joining, still being at the epicenter. Almost everyone in my household is at risk for the virus except for my brother. My grandmother and uncle in age, my mother with VA appointments, and my aunt in exposure. In addition to missing out on valuable hands on experience, I also lost my part time job. I worked as a parking supervisor for events, but with no events there was no need for staff. Since all this has taken place, I had to unfortunately apply for unemployment. While the everlasting effect of this virus is very serious, I can't help but feel this pandemic turned into a media frenzy. Everyone is either afraid, indifferent, or trying to capitalize. The virus surprisingly had competition for the spotlight every month. Between giant hornets, aliens, the tiger king, earthquakes and fires, there was a lot going on. Recently, I was surrounded by two fires. One down the street from me, and another that snuck up on me in Downtown LA. The daily face mask I wore was not enough to keep out smoke inhalation. I sympathize for the 12 firefighters who were injured in the explosion. I fear that all these catastrophic events will lead to a sense of normality where there shouldn't be. In light of all these events sudden or subtle, I hope it brings a sense of unity that we all dreamed the future would have. That Advanced nature we all dreamed of, the sense of action that should've taken place. While we saw evidence that covid was coming, future pandemics are hard to predict. No one saw this coming, the public nor the healthcare workers alike. Life in quarantine may not be the best situation for everyone. But like my time in the department it is a time of reflection. Life in 2020 is not what we wanted. But it begs the question, are you where you wanted to be in life? Is this the life you saw for yourself before quarantine? It gives us the chance to have hobbies, work on ourselves and be with our families. Make the 2020 that you wanted to see possible.

THE TEACHER There was once a small school, located right within the heart of a small yet endlessly flowery prairie. It was not something flamboyant, only a timid marriage of rocks and bricks, happily constructed and designed to serve as a cover for our heads, when it was raining or when the sun was attacking us with his love rays. That school only had one teacher, and its sole students was me and another girl. We were not always the best example of students, usually coming without having done our daily homework, or with albeit adequate preparation for our courses; though we always wanted to attend, because the teacher always had something new to present to us. He had his special way to make us feel right at home, his speech was magical, his manners were impeccable, his presence being monumental to our very souls. I can still remember the day he told us that we humans, are equal to the other beings of nature, and that we are the only ones who have the need to go to school, because we have to train ourselves to be polite and generous, whilst the other animals are being grateful from birth. At first, I was scratching my head when I tried to decode his message, but now that I am old enough, I know he was right. Another day, we were trying to do an exercise in mathematics. The girl right next to me, was excelling at it, and proudly answered with haste his questions, smiling cheerfully to his beaming visage. I was not doing so good, stuffed with stress and anxiety that I would probably fail. In the end, I also answered, but what surprised me was him announcing us that we both passed with flying colors. “But, we made very different choices and picked diametrically opposite answers mr. Alex” I told him. “How can this be possible?” The teacher left us speechless. “Every answer is a matter of perspective, my boy” said the teacher. “For example, your colleague wrote that 1+1 =2, which is correct, I ‘ll wager. I have to admit, though, that you, son, advocate that I+I = II, which is also right. Either you write that as 2, or as 11, I am only interested that you support your thoughts with zeal and reason. That is the meaning of life”, he pointed at us. Some other day in the calendar, he took us up to the hills that were overlooking the great blue lake of our village. His eye color was identical with that of the lake. The vista was mesmerizing, both in his eyes and in the scenery, and his teaching was so soothing in our hearts. He told us that we must love our family, and honor our mother, for she was the towering of our future, and would always be there for us. We took heed and as we walked back to our class, he stopped us and kneeled in front of us. “Take a flower from me, and put it each in your pockets, and when you go back to your mother, give it to her as a present, as I can't do that. Please remember that she is the garden with the roses, and you are the raindrops of water that this garden so desperately needs to flourish”. That afternoon, we returned home filled with joy, and sadness as well. Joy because we realized that the teacher was right, and we hugged our mother like octopuses that stick to a submerged anchor. She also seemed delighted to see us act like that. But, as our hands reached our pockets, we realized the roses were not actually there, at least in physical form. That is, because our teacher, was ethereal, invisible. What that means? In fact, he was not a teacher, but a captain. That was his real-life profession. But having sailed over all the corners of the earth, he always had great deeds to tell us. And, because our school needed a teacher, he gladly offered to be our teacher. Well, our school, that harmonious amalgamation of stones, bricks and a handful of concrete, in reality was our home. The girl next to me in class, my colleague, was my sister. And what about that captain, then? Who was he? That moustache wielding champion, was our father, who passed away years ago. However, his ethics and lessons were still following us, and his presence was right next to us, watching us over. His reign as a king to our hearts will still live on, and we will never forget him, as he captained our lives with wisdom and honor. A teacher, is a beacon of light and hope. We all need a teacher. We all need a father. Our father. And he was the best teacher of them all.

The Paris skyline shined brighter that night. Maybe it was the 2nd glass of the cheapest rose we could find, maybe it was the perfectly timed sparkle of the Eiffel tower reflecting on the buildings in sight from my balcony. I laid back in my chair, put my feet on the railing, loosely gripping the thin stem of my wine glass and listened to the sounds of the Paris nightlife. My roommate Anis, sat on the floor next to me and leaned her head into the night. The stars were covered by clouds but still, I could feel them shining light upon the dimly lit streets below us. A woman lit a cigarette and it seemed to awaken something within Anis as her own hand seemed to drift to her sweatshirt pocket by its own accord, pulling out a thin, messily rolled cigarette and brought it to her mouth. She put her hand back into her pocket, but it came out empty, so I reached into my own and pulled out a light pink lighter and lit it myself as she breathed in. She offered me one, but I don't smoke so I shook my head and she went back to synchronizing her breaths to that of the woman on the street beneath us. Soon enough this woman was gone and our focus was on a man standing by the bus stop. I looked to my phone for the time, frowned, and hoped the man wasn't hoping for a ride. The buses were long parked and the metro now full of the homeless in chrysalis, trying to escape the harsh reality of night. Anis gave me the look, the one you give when you've had a bit too much wine and you've decided that you're going to be a dumb college student for a moment, when you want to let everything go and ignore the fact that it's 3 am on a Wednesday night, ignore the 9 am calculus class you have in the morning, ignore the four missed facetime calls from your parents that you only ignored because your phone is already on low battery and you did have some wine so you weren't sure if any of your sentences that came out were even coherent anymore and because you decided you would text them in the morning that you were tired and wanted a good night's rest before your calc test the next morning. Anis's eyes lit up as she opened her mouth as wide as she could. “Yoohoo!” she laughed, as we do on nights like this, shouting into the great expanse hoping that someone may answer us back. I followed suit, we let our laughter die, and we waited. We waited for something, for anything to shout back and remind us we are not alone. We waited for the stars to come out form the curtain of clouds and put on for us a show. We waited for random historical figures of the 1920s to come out of the shadows like they did in that Owen Wilson movie. We waited… and waited… and waited… and waited for what could have been months days, minutes, mere seconds until the sound of the balcony door opening took us out of our trance. “Hey could one of you guys give me light, I think I left my lighter at school,” my other roommate Rebecca asked, leaning her forearms on the railings. My eyes losing their fog looked up to her blankly, handed her my lighter, and went back to look at the guy by the bus stop. But, just as quickly as our voices faded into the atmosphere, he was gone.

“Shy kids never shine” Naturally, as a 17 year old girl living as Gen Z, this quote struck my eye as I was about to swipe through the never-ending Snapchat stories. I replayed this particular story about five times, just to make sure that I had read it right. There it was, written on the whiteboard at the top in blue marker surrounded by a bubble. My initial reaction was to make a pun, also natural but in a more personal way. Ahaha yeah, shy kids never shine, they shy-ne I snickered in my head, too embarrassing to say out loud. An hour later though, it floated right back into my head, because of a stupid comment by a stupid teacher. I'm aware of how much I sound like a 21st century teenage cliche, and that's okay. Once you learn how to accept yourself, it's much easier to go through life without having to meet people's expectations. Before the quote really hit me, I had gone to the careers office in my school, as my friend had requested my presence while she went to pick up a form from the careers teacher. As I stood idly, waiting for the teacher to fish out the paper from one of the desk drawers, she turned to me and said “Have I seen you before?” Hmm. I had a feeling where this was going, but I replied nonetheless. “Not personally. I mean, I've come to this office a few times when my friends had career committee meetings, but not like, personally to get advice from you.” A pause. “I have never seen you. Or is it because you're wearing your hair open today?” I shook my head no. “And the fact that you're a prefect too? That's sad.” She scrutinized my red tie and the badge that read “prefect” in bold, gold letters that the school insist all of us authoritative figures wear. I felt myself get defensive immediately, intimidated by her tone and the words that accompanied it. “Um, I mean you have seen me though, I've gone up in assembly for being a prefect and my clubs and…” She cut me off and said “Yeah but that was in a group. You've never been up to speak individually have you? Mmm. So you kind of just…fade into the background. No one ever remembers the shy students.” And just like that, my good mood had turned sour, and it was as if someone had poked a hole in my body as it slowly deflated. What irked me the most was the fact that I had been doing so much in the past year as it was my last year before university, and that was clear as I indulged in activities such as community service and made a name for myself such as holding a prefect position. And not even because I needed them to look good on my c.v, but because I had finally started to come out of my shell and genuinely enjoyed them. So why did I care so much that this teacher, who wasn't even involved in other aspects of the school apart from careers, didn't recognize me, and so essentially, recognize me as a student of this school? It was because I knew the type of person that I used to be, and how far I'd come, and her blunt words bought me right back to the past. Introvert. Shy. Awkward. Behind the scenes. Under the radar. Closed-off. Quiet. Mostly synonyms of each other, and none of them new to me. In my previous school, I had been the dictionary version of a wallflower, never really participating in any events, though I knew it would benefit me later on. Always sticking in my comfort zone, with the same group of equally as shy friends. Always cowering away from the limelight. Neutral. Unknown. Faded. Even though I knew that I had become a completely different person in a good way, improving myself and getting to this point where I participated in a bunch of clubs and socializing with people, it made me angry that a teacher could be so blunt and crush someone so easily. Even if I was still that shy girl that I used to be, it didn't make me any less worthy than people who had the confidence to speak in assembly all the time and make themselves known. Some of the most famous people were the most shy kids, and most of the processes that work today are due to people behind the scenes, sometimes never getting credit for the effort they put in. The world isn't fair like that, but for a teacher to put someone down without even knowing them, it's a different story. I know I'm just 17, but I truly have made so many experiences in the last two years of my A levels that have provoked me to reflect on myself everyday, and want to share them with people who can relate. Like I said in the beginning, it may be cliche, and sometimes I may act like it too, but as long as you know your abilities, it really doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of you. For any teachers, or even parents out there; please encourage your kids in the right way. Let them know that they're never too quiet or too loud, and that they can achieve regardless. For those of you who're still trying to figure this whole life thing out like me; you'll never be too shy to shine, and a quote I used to relate with that still makes me smile, “never let them dull your sparkle.”