Gift giving

For spring break these past two weeks, I’ve been in Australia, which is why I haven’t been posting for some time.  Hopefully next week I will be able to post the recap of my trip...after I put together the photos I’ve taken along the way!

However, over the trip, I’d been thinking a lot about gift giving.  We bought gifts for my family in Australia and it was quite interesting to see each person’s reaction to the gift presented to them.  But really, I was thinking about how meaningful they were…almost a symbol for how well I knew the person.  Before break, when I was neatening up my room, I saw the gift my cousin from China gave me a few summers ago: a set of pencils that when lined up in the correct order like a puzzle, showed a picture of a red flower.  Thinking back, I remember how happy I was receiving that gift and how well I thought my cousin knew my taste.

I notice myself beginning to care more about gift giving as well.  I remember in the past, when I had to purchase gifts for friends for birthdays, I was a little more reckless.  I often saved the duty of shopping until there was barely enough time to purchase anything special.  In Australia these past two weeks, I did some shopping for gifts for my friends.  I put more thought into the shopping and I found myself genuinely caring more.  As I was walking out the store with the gift for my friend, I found myself repeatedly saying, I think she’ll really like it.  And that alone made me happy, to be able to give someone something I believe they’ll love.  

Gifts can be used as a symbol of appreciation, of recognition, of celebration, of tradition, of a holiday.  And what’s so beautiful about gifts is how differently they manifest themselves.  Parents give their children the gift of life, while friends may give each other the gift of a friendship.  There are concrete gifts and there are abstract gifts.  Either way, I’m beginning to see the power of gift giving and the resonance in each individual gift.

This is to have succeeded!

These past few months of eighth grade have been busy.  I've been looking out at different high school options.  Today is March 10.  Today is also the day when we get the results.  

This morning, I awoke with mixed emotions to the results of one school I applied to.  Apparently, the result was quite evident at school, as my friends and teachers were concerned about my countenance.  
At my free block, I decided I needed some inspiration to push me onwards.  As many people know, pacing is one way I calm myself down [I'm a kinesthetic learner and thinker], when I found this poster in the arts building by the front door.  I share it today, remembering that this is really success.  In case the picture isn't clear, it says, 

"To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better…to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded!" ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Our small, yet unfathomably large world

Our world is unfathomably large.  When I awake in the morning, reading the latest news on my iPad, I hear about pollution in Beijing to the extent where people can barely be outside safely without a mask, I read about the terrors of the war in the middle east, I read about the Trump administration and the laws they create, hoping to influence Congress one way or another, thinking how inconsiderate and discriminatory some laws are, yet judging them not

fully beholding its effect on my own community.  I have noticed myself judging, perceiving and soaking in everything that happens in the world with a sense of detachment, as if this would never happen to me.  Yet I always know, in the back of my head, that I am as susceptible to becoming threatened in a war as anyone else.  Climate change, war, new laws etc. just haven’t managed to reach me at a personal level yet.  And this is how I’m observing the vastness of this world, and noticing how often I just hear something with that sense of detachment, thinking about how distant that world news is. But the reality is it’s not that far.  

Simultaneously, this world sometimes feels small.  There are at least three kids who attend my school [private, so not everyone is from the same town], who live on the same street [they’re in different grades].  Two of them are neighbors.  What again makes this world feel so large, is that they don’t even know they are.  

Two weeks ago, I was walking home, when I saw a kid from Belmont Day School that I hadn’t seen for about 4 years.  Somehow, we still recognized each other.  That afternoon, I was walking home from school, and he, after getting off at his stop on the public bus, passed me on the street.  And then there are other incidents where my friends both traveled to another country over break and seen each other at that foreign location.  

I believe coincidence, chance, luck, and fate, partially control whom we see.  Sometimes we go to school with our neighbors and don’t even know it.  Other times, we see people we haven’t seen in years in a foreign country.  It all quite amazes me.  

 

Girl's Math Collaborative 2017

This past Wednesday, I attended the sixth annual Girls Math Collaborative at the BB&N Middle School.  Sure, after two and a half hours of solving gruesomely challenging, yet equally brilliant problems, this amazing group of 22 girls this past Wednesday afternoon was able to open the treasure chest.  Chocolate was our little treasure.

Mr. Ken Fan, who I believed initiated this Collaboration at BB&N, handed the group of 22 a giant packet at the beginning of the session.  Inside, there were around seven sheets of papers.  The first sheet explained the context of this giant problem, which illustrated that a girl–whom we shall call Hunter since I can’t remember her exact name–who had traveled through to many different cities around the world in order to find the treasure chest that Mr. Fan brought with us that contained the chocolate.  There was a lock on the treasure chest, and in order to open it into the treasure chest, you had to move the lock in particular directions, which symbolized the locations of the city Hunter traveled to.  The remaining six pages in the packet were the problems [each page had 5 different questions], and the numerical answer to each problem gave a coordinate point, representing each city Hunter visited.  In the end, all the points we had solved would be plotted on one coordinate plane, the group had to work together to find a pattern to move the lock [the one that had a slider] so that no city locations were “visited” twice, and ensure that Hunter never traveled horizontally across the coordinate plane, only right to left, up and down.

Now, this doesn’t all seem so difficult.  There were 30 questions, 2.5 hours, and 22 girls solving them.  Yet it proved difficult, since, as Mr. Fan pointed out, these were high school level math problems, some even college levels.  I believe few middle schoolers, if any, could complete this challenge by themselves.  And this leads me back to strongly implanting belief in the power of synergy.  

I’ve talked about this before, with the Olympics, which I first became aware of through Sean Covey’s 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens.  Yet this past Wednesday vigorously exercised synergy, thrusting it into full force.  The group succeeded only because everyone contributed.  Some problems one group struggled to solve, were solved by another.  I witnessed and experienced this powerful network of girls collaborating with each other, with no one holding back.  The group soon realized, after maybe half and hour of experimenting how vital it was to the team’s success that any and every piece of information was shared.  Even if the information or point brought up appeared useless, we still welcomed it.  It no longer became a competition between our group members to see who could solve the most problems, which is a game we frequently play in math class, but it became a team competition.  It was fun, it was challenging, and it made many laugh, there were screams of excitement, and groans of impatience.  And this heterogeneous mixture of emotion was very powerful for me.  

It was also called a Girl’s Math Collaboration for a reason…boys couldn’t attend.  This was also a powerful statement.  No more ascendancy grasped solely by the male members of the community.  It was empowering to experience and be a part of, especially after I’d just written about gender roles a little over a week ago.  

Three days later, today, I’m reflecting on this experience again.  It’s a wonder how powerful synergy is and the great places it can take you.  This most certainly was an experience I will truly treasure.

The Commencement of Spring

I can’t help but observe how spring is slowly holding grip of itself, seconds away from thoroughly exploding behind the shadow winter left upon Boston.  These past 3 days have been remarkably warmer than the previous weeks.  It must be a sign that spring is approaching.  

Friday must have been the first sign of warmth through this winter.  I must admit, this particular winter has been considerably generous to us in terms of lowest temps and amount of snow.  I remember that one year  [I believe 3 years ago], when it snowed three feet of snow one night.  Friday was 72 degrees.  It was so much warmer than the previous days that my body hadn’t adjusted to the temperature yet.  I changed into shorts at school.  

After school, I went out for a six mile run around town.  I was planning on doing a 4 miler, but I couldn’t resist the sunshine or the freedom running in shorts felt like.  And there were people.  Lots of people.  Running.  Walking.  Biking.  Pushing baby strollers around.  It was quite different than what I had observed running outside merely a week ago.  I run outside through the winter [unless the temps drop below 32 degrees, then I’m on the treadmill], and for the first time in what felt like months, I saw many people outdoors, enjoying the sunshine, enjoying the ability to walk outside without shivering in a parka.  It seems to me that this springback from winter lures more people out of their doors than the peaks of summer, or even the approach of winter.  

By January, many people just can’t stand the cold any longer.  By February, they’re peeking out their windows to see whether spring is coming or not.  And by March, when the warmth finally hits, people can’t wait to dash outdoors.  

I feel my mood lightening.  I’ve talked about how the weather impacts our moods, but this weather, the commencement of spring, is a symbol of the resilience nature possesses.  The days weather, is often my minds weather.  And for this reason, I see this time of year as inexorably magical.  

What I like most about myself: my ability to speak out

One of my goals as an eighth grader is to be less self-denigrating.  Thus far, 6 months into the school year, I feel that I have made significant progress.  I’m able to let go of things I don’t do well, instead, grasping the lessons I learn and I focus more on things that went well that day.  But another aspect to this journey is figuring out what I’m really good at and what I love most about myself.  Here’s my answer, to a question that I’ve been pondering for some time: my ability and courage to speak my mind, and my ability to communicate with others.

After dinner tonight, my mom and I were talking about how many Chinese people from China behave in the work force, [though this observation does not stand true for all Chinese].  My mom had previously observed how during large company meetings, Americans and Europeans who were part of the group talked the most, while she noticed that Chinese people didn’t talk as much...in fact, the majority stayed quiet.  I believe there is nothing inherently wrong with this, but I view it as a cultural construction, or what people from various are taught earlier in childhood.  My mom then talked about how as a student in grade school, conversations in class were strictly monitored.  No open discussions were held, either, as many schools in the US practice.  When my mom came to the US for college, she said how she was very surprised at how students spoke in open discussions, something she’d rarely experienced in grade school.  She was also surprised at how people could say whatever they wanted, whenever, in the conversation.  The quietness, and seemingly lack of participation from the Chinese could be the result of a habit they’d been taught.  

Then I asked my Mom, if she could speak up, would she.  Her answer was: it depends.  She said that since biting back her tongue had been a habit she’d nurtured since childhood, it’s very difficult to make adjustments now, though it is possible.  I then asked her, if you knew the right solution to a problem, would you speak up?  She replied: maybe.  She said she felt her English discouraged her to speak up.  

I feel very fortunate to be raised in a society where I can exercise freedom of speech.  What I say is not monitored by the teachers, and I can speak when I want to or feel a need to [in China, my dad said that the news is monitored by the government, thus creating bias].  I believe this is what I like most about myself, my extroverted persona.  My love for talking, yet equal earn to sit back and listen.  My ability to speak up when I feel a point is missing and not have to worry about being quieted and restrained.  My ability to communicate with others effectively, a habit which I have been encouraged to do since Kindergarten, in class discussions.  I truly believe I would not be the same person without my voice.  This I am grateful for.

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah

As a middle schooler, I find it difficult to save time for reading outside of the books required for school.  Yet on Saturday, I finished The Nightingale, which I must say, was worth the precious time I spent indulging in its plot.

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah is a story filled with sophistication and emotion, primarily focusing on the themes of love and loss.  Starring two sisters, Vianne and Isabelle, both of whom lead very different lives, the story is set in France during World War 2 and tells the experiences of these two women who have loved and simultaneously lost what mattered most during the war.  

***

Isabelle and Vianne’s mother passed away long ago, after their father, Julien returned from the war.  Since the war, he has not returned the same man.  He abandoned his children after Mother’s death, and Isabelle barely remembers her.  Julien sends Isabelle away to various school [all of which she was expelled for her notoriously mutinous behavior], and Vianne marries.  Despite the war, Isabelle cannot help but wonder whether she will ever be loved.  Her father’s abandonment of her furthers her belief that she travels this world alone, which drives her to aide the French against the Nazis.  Meanwhile, Vianne couldn’t have imagined living a better life before the war, until her husband is drafted.

Vianne must care for the German soldiers billeting at her home while her husband is off at war.  She witnesses the her most dearest friends be deported.  Vianne learns to rebel, by saving Jewish children and sending them to an orphanage.  Isabelle, on the other hand, infamous since childhood for being rebellious, goes off to Paris to aid the French rebels against the Nazis by leading fallen airmen across the Pyrennes mountain range to the Spain, where they can be sent back to their home countries to continue fighting.  Both put their lives on the line to do what they believe is right, unsure whether their traitorous acts, punishable by death, have been discovered.

These two plots, manifest to the reader as separate, finds a way to intertwine, bringing the sisters closer together than ever.

***

I would absolutely recommend this book, for its sophistication will keep the most agitated readers on their toes, its harmonious blend of love and loss will keep a broad span of readers interested, its endless surprises never fail to surprise the reader [they made me very frustrated sometimes!] and Kristin Hannah’s vivid and at times, vulgar descriptions of the effect of the war on France will situate in readers to each scene as if he/she were there. An absolute must-read.

This Saddens Me

Each morning, when I awake before the sun [always the first one up!], I indulge in the pleasure of reading the news.

A few weeks ago, I read an article from sciencemag.org, which published a study showing how on average, as girls age, their belief in their intelligence decreases significantly. The study, published by Science, showed how before the age of 6, girls believed in their brilliance equally to that of boys. However, by the age of 6, that same group of girls, who’d believed in their intelligence as much as boys only one year ago, now assumed that their male counterparts were smarter.

Researchers conducted this study through asking children this question at the age of 5, and again at the age of 6 or 7: “A person in my office is really, really smart—they solve problems faster and better than anyone else.” They found that at the age of 5, boys believed that really smart person was a man, while at the age of 5, girls believed it was a woman. When researchers described this same scenario to a group of kids at the age of 6-7, they discovered that girls were 20-30% less likely to believe that really smart person was a female. This saddens me.

Researchers further studied older girls attitudes towards certain activities versus older boys attitudes. They discovered that boys tended to choose to play games that were described to the them as being designed for “really, really, smart children.” The girls backed out, instead, choosing games that were described as being designed for “children who try really, really hard.” I suppose this study is suggesting that girls tend to be categorized as the children who try hard, and boys are categorized as smart.

Meanwhile, while all these studies suggest that girls believe they aren’t as intelligent as men starting at an early age, Science did mention something I find both fascinating and contradicting, “Boys and girls both acknowledged that girls get better grades, indicating that children don’t necessarily associate success in school with brilliance.”

Yet the facets of all of these studies that startles me the most is how many girls are strongly influenced by these gender roles, evidenced by them choosing to avoid certain jobs that may require being highly intellectual, such as engineering. And this saddens me the most…girls curtailing themselves from certain decisions based off gender roles established when they were young.

To be quite honest, I’m not sure where to start to improve the mindset in the women in our society. The world is so marvelously vast, that at times, it makes it difficult to fathom where to start change. However, I have seen little improvements here and there that make me really happy to see. Last year, when I was talking to my math teacher about the advanced placement, he told me how each year, there is approximately 2-3 times as many boys in the honors class as girls. I believe that not only is that a low ratio, [1:2 or 1:3 ratio of girls to boys] but it further discourages other girls in the grade to put an effort into math. In a way, I believe it is almost a quiet implication that girls can’t be as good at math as boys. Last year, my math teacher also told me how for this years classes, they were striving to even out the numbers in advanced classes. Although the ratios are more even now, there still consistently continues to be significantly more boys than girls in the honors classes.

I strongly believe that women are needed everywhere, in fact, in order for a company, a business, a military, a hospital, a science lab, a research zone, the government and everything else, to be successful and reach its maximum potential, women need to be involved. Yet still, having so deeply ingrained this belief in my head, I’m disappointed to say that I still do not know where to start improving. But I do know this: it will not happen overnight, and not only is a societal shift is needed, but a cultural shift needs to take place.

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Link to Science study

Hope is the thing with feathers

This weekend for English homework, we were assigned to read 3 poems, one of which is called “Hope is the thing with feathers” by Emily Dickinson.  The extended metaphor about hope really touched me, in addition to how cleverly Dickinson related the bird metaphor to hope.  

For me, this poem describes my emotions thus far in 2017 quite perfectly.  I suppose I’m hoping for many things, high school applications, varsity tennis tryouts, passing a climate change initiative at school [in which I’m writing to the school Board], doing well in the Massachusetts Middle School Drama Festival competition [which my drama class at school is working on], performing one of Chopin’s Nocturnes at an annual piano judged festival, just to name a few things I’m hopeful about.  I hope this poem speaks to you as well.

Hope is the thing with feathers

By Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

Letting Go

 Bryant McGill once said, “Abundance is the process of letting go; that which is empty can receive.”

Letting go has constantly been a struggle for me, and sometimes, holding on to my errors and mistakes is what beats my energy and my mentality. So there’s letting go and there’s holding on. I believe a harmony of these two vital skills is necessary, as tenacity is often described as the key to success, and letting go is just as important when we know something isn’t going to change.

McGill shares an interesting idea, in which letting go opens up space for nouveau ideas to sprout. I have found this particularly difficult, as I’ve noticed a deep desire to delve into everything presented to me, whether it be taking a science test or making a card of appreciation for someone or anything in between.

I think I’ve come to understand that I can’t do everything in life, especially to my pinpointed degree of perfection. On Wednesday, a mother who was in charge of the Valentine’s Day Teacher Appreciation Lunch, shot Leadership Council an email, wondering whether we could hand out heart shaped cards to members of our homeroom so people could write letters of  appreciation. There was a catch…firstly, no teachers were to be notified or involved in the process, so it would be essentially all student led and was supposed to be secretive, and secondly, the Leadership Council would have to get the cards around to everyone as soon as possible since the mother needed them on Tuesday morning.

Leadership Council meetings are held every Thursday, and having a snow day yesterday, we were left without time to formally discuss protocol. On Thursday night, I felt the idea would not be executed as the group seemed to be on different pages about the project in general. I decided that organization needed to be done, so I called together the Council after Middle School Assembly, and I instructed council members to take initiative and hand out the cards to their homeroom during study hall. People from homerooms spent a few minutes writing letter of appreciation on the cards their Leadership Council representatives gave them during study hall and turned them into the designated box at the front office.

Yet one mistake occurred: since it was study hall and students are scattered throughout the entire school along with teachers, I would predict that almost all the teachers saw kids cluttered in groups writing on their bright pink and red heart shaped cards. I would assume that most of them guessed what was “surprise” was happening and to be honest, it’s pretty hard to keep anything a secret in middle school.

It was a mistake that I hadn’t thought of as I was planning out the strategy for getting the cards into student’s hands. But it was a mistake I had to let go of, since there was nothing I could do to change what was already seen. I had to let go of that degree of perfection I was aiming for in completing the task, and it wasn’t easy since I am one who likes to execute tasks to the best of my ability. I suppose my “empty” has received a lesson in organizing community tasks.