Cloistered truth unveiled

Most people do not listen with the intent to understand. Most people listen with the intent to reply. ~Stephen R. Covey, author of the The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

Mistakes, Choices and Habits

In chamber, there are four pianists. Unfortunately, the school did not dedicate enough money to the music department to own two pianos, so half of the pianists play the keyboard instead. Keyboards are electronic, so the players have full control over whether they want sounds to emit from

the speakers. One time, when I did not feel confident about the fingering on a particular part of the piece and the conductor said “Violins only,” I was given the chance to finger the notes. In my head, I ran the melody, while I physically practiced skimming the top of the keys as I was cautious not to pepper a sound. My partner, annoyed that I was fingering the notes decided to turn the sound of the keyboard off, to ensure that I did not press a key by accident while the violinists were rehearsing.

When our conductor was finished drilling the violinists, he turned to my partner and me. “Okay, you guys start at measure 67.” We turned the two pages backwards to measure 67. The conductor counted “5,6,7,8…” he breathed in a deep breath and anticipated us to begin when he let that breath go. The room was deathly silent, as everyone was waiting for the beginning of our playing. Of course, my partner forgot to turn the sound of our piano so all was quiet except for the conductor’s breath and the swooping of the air created from the sound of his hands rapidly moving through the air to the rhythm of the music. The room cracked up with laughter.

Now, if this situation hadn’t happened again, it would have been considered a mistake. But since it happened twice, it is considered a choice. Here’s what I mean:

How many times you made the same mistake…	What it’s called at each stage…
1	Mistake
2	Choice
3 or more	Habit

My dad introduced me to this idea a couple of months ago when I told him the same story. He told me, the first time you do something wrong, it is a mistake. Mistakes are made when you truly were not aware that it would happen. “Mistakes” should only happen once. But what happens when you make them more than once?

The name mistake turns into choice. It was a choice to ignore the causes the first time, and it is a choice whether you will make the same mistake again. Unfortunately, some mistakes are made more than twice. These are called habits. Below is an example of one tremendous mistake I made in sixth grade and one habit I continue to have.

Mistake

In sixth grade, my friend and I were invited by the new lower school music teacher to accompany the third and fourth graders on the piano in the annual Winter Concert, respectively. From

what I experienced, the fourth graders worked really hard to prepare the song Dominick the Donkey. My friend told me that the third graders were working really hard to prepare Jingle Bell Rock.

Mr. Fernandes–our new music teacher– handed me the accompaniment to Dominick the Donkey one day and said that as the new music teacher, he wanted winter concerts to be more student based. He wanted students to play the accompaniments and wanted as much involvement from students as possible. I agreed with his philosophy so I began to practice the part.

I am excused from class twice to rehearse with the diligent fourth graders. My friend is excused as well to rehearse with the third graders. I could tell how much this winter concert meant to the younger students of the campus. The fourth graders practiced at least three times a week for this upcoming event. They were quiet and attentive when Mr. Fernandes wanted their attention and the rounds in the song were elegantly woven together. I sat at the piano, nervous of messing up this beautiful tune. I only wanted to enhance their performance. Soon, the winter concert was coming around…

“Wonderful job, third graders with Jingle Bell Rock. Now, we have the fourth graders singing Dominick the Donkey!” Mr. Fernandes announced the afternoon of the concert. The room dark, with only little streaks of light that had slipped inside the room. It was packed to the door and the acoustics muffled the hustling of third graders exiting the stage. My friend comes off the stage and I whisper to her,

“Great job! You were a fantastic accompanist.”

“Thanks!” She replies with a smile, “can I leave my music on your stand, I don’t have a stand right now…”

“Sure, no problem!” I reply. Now, it is the orchestra’s turn to perform. Then it is the fourth graders. I nervously twitch my fingers.

The orchestra has finished their performance. I nervously begin to stand up. As Mr. Fernandes introduces the crowd the to hard-working class and the title of their song, I grab my sheet music and head to the piano. It sits in the front of the crowd. An adult accompanist, who accompanies the first, second, fifth and sixth graders, moves over on the bench. He is an old man with graying hairs, a kind face, and a warm smile. He asks whether I need help turning the pages. I say yes so he patiently sits, prepared to follow the notes.

Mr. Fernandes gives the countdown, then I begin to play. I start the music, so the only sound in the room is the heartbeat of the backbone of this piece. I lighten up my mood as I hear the fourth graders begin to sing. Their voices harmonize with the melody of the piano. The first pages flies by and soon, we near the end of the page, so the accompanist turns the sheet over to the second page.

I freeze. Where are the notes? I glance at the lyrics on the bottom of each line. Not right, not right. My fingers freeze and flutter because they can no longer remember the notes from my piece. I had the first sheet of music for Dominick the Donkey. The rest of the sheets belonged to Jingle Bell Rock. My brain stops turning. My friend left her sheet music on my stand. When I had ignorantly stood up with some music without a second thought, I realized how I didn’t bother to check whether I had the correct music or not, I had simply just stood up. Dominick the Donkey was still sitting on the music stand. Jingle Bell Rock lay in front of me.

I couldn’t play. My fingers froze. My brain froze. All of a sudden, the only sounds I heard were the tones of the fourth graders. The piano was gone. Its voice swallowed. Its vocal cords mute. My first instinct, when I came back to my senses was to stand up and go grab the correct music. I decided against this because it would be really embarrassing. I whispered to the accompanist.

“This isn’t the right music. What do I do?” I felt like I was almost wailing.

“Can you remember part of it? Can you jump in when you remember it?” I shook my head no. “Just keep playing as much as you can.” He continued whispering. My legs went numb on the bench. I kept staring at the wrong piece of music and my brain felt frothy. Half way through the piece, I still hadn’t remembered any part of the music. It felt like I had been brainwashed. I whispered to the accompanist,

“I really can’t do this. Can you play?” I felt hot tears well into my eyes. I felt my heart pounding, and my blood pumping into my brain, which felt like a million rocks were being thrown at it. I felt the tears. Wet, little drops, pooling in the brims of my eyelids. I fought the urge to wipe them away. The accompanist, seeing my welling tears, nodded his head. I slid over on the small piano bench and he plopped onto the middle. Using purely his ears, he managed to pull together some of the chords. I listened to the fourth graders. They were flawless. So well drilled that they hit the correct pitches without the guidance of the piano. Their rhythm was on beat. Yet, I was the person who had messed up. I felt a heavy, sagging feeling in my heart. I had left down Mr. Fernandes, the fourth graders and myself.

The pianist played the chords by ear that sounded exactly like the ones that were written on the sheet music. The final note rung. The audience clapped. I ran backstage, crying hysterically.

Mr. Fernandes found me backstage. I knew from this moment on, that no student would ever play the accompaniment again. I hoped against this. I hoped that I had not ruined the reputation of students on the piano. I felt like I screwed the whole performance up. So many fourth graders, who had all put in so much effort and time, had just lost all of it because of my stupid error. Mr. Fernandes comforted me by saying,

“It’s not about the mistake. It’s about the recovery.”

Now-a-days, I check through all my sheets of music before entering the stage. I don’t want this incident to become a choice.

Habit

I was diagnosed with mild asthma when I was three years old. I woke up one night, unable to breathe and I ended up in the Emergency Room. The doctors prescribed an inhaler, and it was to be used as needed.

Earlier this month, I went to my annual check up and complained about consistently having to

use my inhaler. I took a breathing test, and the results informed the doctors that my “mild” asthma was a little bit worse than they had predicted. They prescribed FloVent, which was to be puffed twice everyday. My bad habit: I keep forgetting to take it.

An experience, a lesson, a memoir

Dear Me,

When you look back at this letter, 20 years from now, 10 years from now, or 13 months from now, I want you to remember the silence covering the voices of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ+) people in 2016. Now, I want you to look at the world around you. How does life compare now?  

Guerrilla Art Group started out as an elective option in the beginning of the year. Turns out I was the only one who signed up. It did not qualify to run. This elective was re-launched in December in hopes of attracting more people. Since then, I have been a member of the Guerrilla Art Group. The beginning of our cooperation and discussion included topics pertaining current issues to the world. Gun violence and body image were some of our major focuses. We watched videos and created symbolic art, representing our feeling while subtly hinting at powerful messages.

During one meeting about a month past, the GLSEN Day of Silence was mentioned as a possible topic for our upcoming piece. The upper school campus recently observed their Day of Silence. Following their lead, our faculty advisor, Ms. Bergmann, was interested in spreading this awareness to the middle school audience. Walking into the meeting with close to no knowledge about the Day of Silence and its purpose, this art project served to be more than just a piece a paper. It was a learning experience. Here were a few basic questions our group had in the beginning:

• What was the Day of Silence?
• What was the purpose of this day?
• Why was there silence?

Our common questions were answered by the GLSEN website. Through videos and written works, we realized how many people around the world unintentionally put those who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, gay, and queer outside of the box. They draw the line that says, don’t cross.

Often we don’t realize it, but the stillness and quietness of the air in the library mimics life for the LGBTQ+ community everyday. Quieting our own voices is one way we can feel the pain, the

struggle, and the apprehension of those who have lost their own voices for long periods of time because of feeling unsafe, feeling abused, or embarrassed. We had multiple meetings and a plethora of research accompanied these conventions. Guerrilla Art Group considered the colors of each of each sex’s flag, and we attempted to incorporate this into our t-shirt idea. Turns out that having multiple colors increased the bill for our t-shirts. Excitedly, I attended a few of our meeting and this project unraveled into a big event within our middle school. Posters began to appear in the bathroom stalls and along the walls of the buildings. Our brand new idea involved artwork beyond the paper. Our brand new idea consisted of t-shirts, design, approval, advertisement, a budget and silence. The Middle School Day of Silence was coming to life.

Many people volunteered outside of the Guerrilla Art Group meetings every other Wednesday morning during electives block. I, for one, did not attend these valuable meeting where the Middle School director would occasionally peek in. However, I watched the strengths and weaknesses of each supporting member help this project grow tremendously. We created a light gray t-shirt with big, audacious red font. Later, once our organizing group was satisfied with the design and deemed it expressive, meaningful and symbolic, we communicated with a t-shirt printing company, and Ms. Bergmann brought around 200 t-shirts to the middle school within the following weeks.

Friday, April 15, was the Day of Silence. I missed it. I was sick at home with the flu and stomach bug so I couldn’t participate in the silence because I went to see my doctor. I spent my day

Chuck Wright saying he would "whip" a trans woman

researching about current day issues for people who are LGBTQ+. One very controversial issue is the use of bathroom. I read a news article from the lgbtnation.com about this situation. The view the full article, click here. In South Carolina, sheriff Chuck Wright, said that he would “whip” a trans woman in the bathroom. Although I understand his concern, I cannot neglect his austere word choice. I am still very saddened by some people's stubborn attitudes towards being different. I try imaging myself in a trans person's shoes, and it is always a difficult place to be in. Many states have already initiated laws concerning this matter, and South Carolina’s neighbor, North Carolina, has agreed on a law where transgender people must use the bathroom of the sex they were given at birth. South Carolina Senator Lee Bright has set up a similar law. However, some governors, like Nikki Haley, still find this law unnecessary.

Frankly, I am completely tossed up in this issue. I oppose Chuck Wright’s attitude, though his fight does have a significant point. I also oppose North and South Carolina’s law, because when someone grasps the courage to change their gender, then they probably really feel like they weren’t

Transgender bathroom

born with the “right body.” By enforcing a law which forces a trans person to use a particular bathroom, it is almost as if they are not fully their new gender. For me, it feels like they are still partially having to be a man and woman, which leaves little time for endorsement into one or the other. On the other hands, some states have created three restrooms: a women’s, men’s, and transgender bathroom. I feel this situation is more effective because it doesn’t divert a trans from their journey to becoming another sex. However, having a separate bathroom for them specifically may almost drawing another line. Readers, how do you feel about the bathroom situation? Do you agree or disagree with one person or another?

Dear future me, I hope that in the future, you, the world and those pioneers will be able to resolve this major issue in our society to  accommodate a fair, meaningful, and compromising way for people who are LGBTQ+, to live a safe and comfortable life. Together, sometime in the future, I hope that we will be able to erase the line that says don’t cross and place a welcome doormat.

Ava Long

Why I Lost The Stock Market Game and What I Learned

The Stock Market Game was introduced to my math class in the beginning of December, before Winter Break. This game models the stock market in the real world, and allows players to practice purchasing, selling, and maintaining the proper mentality for maximal success in real situations.   

Our introduction to this unit commenced with reading books about the stock market, which covered all topics from why people invest in the stocks to how to make a sustainable investment. I

had carefully read the assigned pages, yet my peers seemed to have skimmed them. Here’s my proof: The book said that generally, there will be times when the whole economy is down, therefore, your stock will go down. However, generally after a breakdown, the economy will slowly start to spurt again, and so will your stock. This means that you should hold your stock during a time that it is low [or buy one], then sell it at a peak. Did my partners read? Based on their skimpy knowledge about stocks, presumably not. Here’s a breakdown of my two partners:

• Two boys who invest in the riskiest stocks
• Two boys who don’t listen to girls
• Two boys who don’t listen to each other
• Two boys who sold the stocks when the economy was low and bought when it was expensive
• Two boys who made us place #117 out of 150 teams participating in the region

Okay, I may just be ranting, but in my part, I did very little to alter the results of our investments. However, I am very shocked in retrospect that their names could have ever come out of my penmanship for partner suggestions.

    Our low-key results may have come from domination and poor cooperation. Domination meant somebody randomly making investments and not telling the others for agreement on a price. I remember walking through the hallways everyday between break, passing by one of my partners and listening to them confess the instability of the stocks they had purchased. I told them to hold back on the risky stocks and watch the economy as a whole before purchasing anything. I hoped that this message would somehow plant itself in their brains, but it seems to have grown in the Garden of Useless Things.

Each team started off with $100,000, and I watched our budget dip into the $89,000’s within the first day. Randomly purchasing stocks without a second guess lead me to think they felt compelled to spend every last penny. I often tried to participate, purchasing well-off stocks. However, before I opened the screen of my laptop after school, my purchases would already be sold.

This was the part of the poor cooperation aspect of our loss. I remember how study halls were filled with time on the computer, parsing over every 0.1% increase or decrease of the value of our stocks. Amazon, Apple and Facebook were three of our first investments. I had suggested Amazon because I knew it had a fairly reliable stock, some major upcoming sales down the road, and during the time, the whole economy seemed to be dipping towards the bottom of the chart. Our team agreed on purchasing 100, $540 Amazon stocks, one hundred $90 Apple stocks and another one hundred Facebook stocks.

Over the next week, the values of our stocks all seemed to drop some more. Amazon was down to $530 and Apple was around the high eighties. I told my group members an uncountable number of times not to sell the stocks and to wait for it to rise. It was not a surprise, [knowing my group member’s personalities], to find out how all 300 stocks were sold that second week. Right now, Amazon’s stock is worth $594. Apple’s is worth $108. Imagine how our final ranking would have been different If we had kept the stocks.

Most of the other companies had the same fate within our stock market game: if any amount of money was lost, immediately sell the stock, forgetting about how much was paid for those stocks. It seemed more of a competition of earning back the money we had put at risk of losing, rather than expanding our final budget over $100,000.

At first, I was really frustrated with my team mates. I tried to tell them that the economy would fluctuate a lot, meaning it will go both down and up. After a while, due to being ignored and disregarded by my teammates, I gave up on trying to win the game. I watched other groups in my class soar to number 10 out of 150. We were still number 117.

   

           From this experience, I think the greatest mistake that I have made (and learned from) is giving up after being disregarded. The boys in my group were skeptical of my knowledge. They

Take the wheel

didn’t care what I thought, and I don’t think I will ever understand their reasons. Halfway through the game, I realized I had given up on having them listen to me. In some ways, I may have given up on my dignity. However, I have learned that if people frankly doubt your ability to a level of disrespect and team failure, it is not your job to change their perspective of you, it is your job to take the wheel and steer it in the right direction: to take leadership.

Foods to Eat With Braces