Saint Joseph Preparatory High School

Chapel Speeches 2013-2014

In the 2013-14 school year, the Saint Joseph Prep community instituted a Chapel Speaking Program with the goal of having each student at SJP give a Chapel Speech, each year, to his/her classmates during his/her weekly grade-level Chapel Service.  An opportunity for students to showcase their individual personalities, the objective was to have the students give an effectively organized, two to three minute speech that reflects the unique experience, character, and perspective of the speaker.  The students work with Chapel Speech advisors for each grade level in order to prepare a meaningful speech and to practice important public speaking skills that will benefit them well beyond high school. As the Chapel Speech program kicked off in the fall, many brave students have volunteered to share their thoughts and insights with their classmates.   The book you are about to read highlights the top two speeches from each grade level given during the first semester of the 2013-14 school year.   Freshmen speakers, Rebekah Forrest `17 and Sean Bennett `17, have set an excellent tone for the youngest class in the school, providing speeches that expressed maturity well beyond their years.  Sean spoke of overcoming cancer and appreciating the little things in life we often take for granted, while Rebekah gave her classmates a look into her family history, discussing the importance of tolerance for all religions and the values she has learned from her grandmother’s experience during the Holocaust.  Sophomores, Alexandra Hung `16 and Lauren McCarthy `16, presented to their classmates two great speeches with Alex discussing the lessons she learned while doing service in Peru and Lauren sharing about her feelings of being labeled and how she has been able to break away from those labels at SJP.  Juniors, Nina Forcellati `15 and Tim Kim `15, were both inspiring and humorous in their chapel speeches as Nina discussed the impact of social media on our lives, and Tim described his experience traveling to the United States and seizing opportunities to be successful here.  Finally, seniors, Brenna Hurley `14 and Mercedes Cunningham-Edwards `14, have modeled what an excellent Chapel Speech should be by providing their classmates with outstanding speeches that highlighted their distinct personalities.  Brenna spoke of the lessons she has learned working with children at a summer camp, while Mercedes described the struggles she has faced in her life after a premature birth and many health problems that seemed to hold her back.

The speeches you will read here are a small sampling of the excellent work the students of Saint Joseph Prep have accomplished this year.  With a commitment to scholarship at its highest level, we are confident that the Chapel Speaking Program will continue to provide the students of SJP an opportunity to share their personalities and viewpoints with their classmates while learning valuable speech writing and public speaking skills.

Ashley Gabriel Campus Minister

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Alexandra Hung `16, Brenna Hurley `14, Sean Bennett `17, Mercedes Cunningham-Edwards `14, Sung Jun (Tim) Kim `15, Nina Forcellati `15, Rebekah Forrest `17, Lauren McCarthy `16.

Alexandra Hung `16 3 November 2013

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The months are flying by, and the Christmas season is soon approaching. This is personally my favorite time of year, and I’m sure it is for many. Although we claim that we know now that Santa does not exist, it does not stop us from writing our wish list. However, this holiday has come to mean much more to me than I have ever imagined, and it happened quite recently.

A couple of years ago, my family decided to spend Christmas in Peru. I did not know how I felt about that, but before I could figure it out, I was on a plane heading away from the snow and towards the sweltering heat. Shortly after arriving, my parents told my sisters and me that we were going to go spread some Christmas spirit to those who were not as fortunate as we were. I was still frustrated that I was not in Boston, and would have rather stayed inside skyping with my friends. What I did not realize at that moment, was that I would have missed out on something that would affect me significantly. We arrived exactly where my parents told us we were going, but nothing would have ever prepared me for what I saw that day. I was scared and confused as to why my parents would expose us to such an environment a day before Christmas. As I looked around, I saw for myself what people meant when they said, “There are others who are not as lucky as you are” or “eat your food because there are many out there who do not have a meal on their table today.” There is a big difference when listening to what people say about poverty, and seeing it for yourself. It was truly heartbreaking to acknowledge that that reality does exist and for many it starts from the moment they are born. I could feel that burning sensation in my throat, with tears about to trail down my face. It was simply due to the fact that these children were in such an unfortunate state, yet I saw them running around, happily playing with one another. It was beyond me how they managed to be in such a joyful mood despite everything they have to live with. What I felt most upset about was, how selfish I had been moments before.

I considered these children to be way better than I was in any way I could possibly imagine. I also questioned why God would permit such a thing to happen to innocent children. How they did not even own a pair of shoes, yet there are others who rot in money? I asked God, what prevented this from being my destiny? Before any other thought could trace through my head, a little girl tugged at my hand. I realized that I was holding a wrapped gift, and she wanted to know if it was for her. When I handed it to her, her big brown eyes lit up, and a warm smile came forth. She kept saying thank you to me, over and over and then I saw a tear drip down her face. Before I could say anything to her, she gave me hug, and then ran away with such excitement. And in that moment, I came to realize why we came to this place. My parents brought my sisters and me there to notice all the things we take for granted. They wanted us to remember that we are blessed in so many ways that sometimes we forget the meaning behind it all. I realized that I will not be able to help all those who live in poverty. However, I was fortunate to bring forth some joy to a little girl during this time of the year. In return, what I received was much more valuable. She gave me a sense of appreciation. I was able to take into consideration that I am blessed with a wonderful household, friends, and family that put up with my bad moods, loud laugh, and crazy appetite. She gave me hope despite everything I saw that day. Lastly, she gave me a smile, the most sweet and sincere one that I will remember during every Christmas season.

Sean Bennett `17 19 November 2013

I went to Children's Hospital on December 3, 2010 because I had passed out while I was helping set up for an event at school the next day. I begged my dad not to go, but he said we had to because I hadn't been feeling well for at least a month. I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia that night. My dad didn't tell me that right away. He called my cousin my godfather and mother and probably a lot of other people just to tell them. My mother and grandmother had to come home early from their yearly vacation to St. Maarten. I was really scared because I didn't understand why I was there. I started treatment two days later. The treatment was medicine that killed all of my blood cells good and bad. The treatment made me extremely sick, but all things get worse before they get better. They were constantly taking my blood and it was causing a lot of pain. I got a temporary fix to that problem when I got my first pick line. A pick line is a tube that went from my arm straight to my heart. I had three of those before I got my port. The port was pretty much an upgraded pick line. The port was underneath the skin in my chest and could be painlessly accessed to take blood.   The day that I started treatment, I found out that I had cancer, and to me cancer meant that I would probably die. I was immediately reassured that it could be cured and that I would be fine. I didn't believe it right away because he was my dad and he wasn't a doctor, but when the nurses and doctors told me that I would be fine, I felt much better. Those nurses and doctors were the best ones anybody could ask for. They were a second family to me. The other patients on the cancer floor were like brothers and sisters to me. It was terrible for everybody there, but we did find ways to have fun. When everybody was awake and in good moods

we would have water fights at night with unused syringes. We would fill them with water and run around the floor shooting each other. I would go down the hall to my friend who was on precautions. Being on precautions meant that you weren't allowed to leave your room. She loved those water fights so much because they took her mind off of everything medical for a while. The fact that the nurses even let us do that surprised me. Even though we were loud and messy the nurses let us do it because everybody needed a break from our own personal challenges.   On December 28, I was finally discharged! That didn't last long because on New Year's Eve at 11:30 PM, I went back to the hospital via ambulance. I went to back to the hospital because I was vomiting uncontrollably. Almost exactly at the stroke of midnight I had a stroke in the emergency room. The stroke deprived me of all use of my left side. No lifting my arm or walking or anything that I would normally take for granted. The following morning, I had two consecutive seizures. I had the stroke because I was dehydrated from the vomiting and complications from the chemo. I was in the ICU for 3 weeks after the stroke and was moved back to the cancer floor for a week. After that I had to two shots daily to keep my blood from clotting again. I took those shots for about 40 weeks. I was annoyed with being in the hospital and just wanted to go home. I wanted to play sports again. I wanted life to be normal again.   I've surprised myself with what I've learned since those thoughts crossed my mind. That was such an important part of my life and what I believe now due to this experience that I've had has totally changed. It taught me that we really do take everything for granted. I know you hear people say it and you go, "yeah, alright, whatever," but after my experience I learned what I used to have and am just lucky to have it all back again.

As many of you probably know, I am a cancer survivor. I have been in remission for almost three years. However I've only been finished with treatment for ten months. The last three years have been extremely difficult for me and my family. I'm just glad that we had all of the doctors and nurses to help us along the way.

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Mercedes Cunningham-Edwards `14 22 November 2013

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As I was brainstorming ideas for this chapel speech, Mrs. Muth gave me the advice, "the more personal, the better." I immediately thought about the letter I received from my mom about my life story as an infant. In the beginning of the letter, my mother told me my birth was a miracle. According to the doctors, I was never supposed to be alive. They said if I did live, I would have to be hooked up to machines for the rest of my life. As an alternative, I did have to wear a ventilation mask and carry around a tank when I was younger. The doctors also said that I wouldn't be able to speak. But I think all of you know that speaking is not an issue for me.

I was born three months premature with undeveloped lungs. Therefore, I had to have a trach (which is, in my case, a small, plastic three-way tube with holes like a tunnel. It looks like a tiny three-away intersection.) I had to have that surgically placed in my throat in order for me to breathe. My mom constantly had to clean and clear out my trachea in order for air to pass through my lungs. I was born a pound and 4.8 ounces. I then dropped to a .9 oz. I was so small that I could literally fit in the palm of my father’s hand. My father traveled back and forth to see me in the hospital, even though the doctors were preparing him and my mom for the worst. My father would come to visit me almost every day. He said that every time he stepped into the Intensive Care Unit of the Hunstville Alabama Hospital the monitors would start going off because I knew he was there. He would then come over to me and start rubbing my little forehead in his humongous hand saying in a soothing voice, "calm down, boo. Relax. Daddy's here." I think that's why I'm daddy's girl still today. But once the doctors told him that I was more than likely not going to survive, he then started to see me less and less everyday. He went from seeing me almost every day staying from night until dawn, to only fifteen minutes because he had to prepare himself for the day when I would no longer exist in this world. Three days had passed and I was still living when my dad came to visit me and that's when he knew that I was here to stay. Luckily, my family had faith in God and prayed, which was the only reason I can stand up here and tell you my story. If it wasn't for my ultimate father (meaning God), I would be dead. Remember how I said I had a trachea? Well, sometimes it would become blocked by either snot or some other substance. This happened every now and then; it wasn't rare. But there was one major incident when my trachea became blocked. My mom was taking me somewhere. It was very windy outside, and it just happened that it was not my mom’s day at all. It was to the point where she was unable to use the saline to clean it out. She knew that it would take too long to drive to the hospital or to go through the process of calling 911. Because my airway was blocked for so long I stopped breathing, longer than the initial time allowed for a person to revive me without damage to my brain. In other words, I had suffocated and died right there in my mom’s arms.

Once she saw that I was no longer, she held me tighter in her arms and just prayed. She prayed because she knew, her being only human, she was unable to save me. She prayed because she trusted God and knew that he was watching over us. She prayed hoping God would honor her faith in him, being Jehovah Rapha who is our healer, and bring me back to life. She prayed until she felt the breath of life re-enter my body. She then looked down at me, who was sound asleep breathing calmly, and saw a lot of phlegm and mucus on my bib. This substance had dried up and hardened inside my trach which blocked my airway. It could not have come out on its own because of how far back it was in my trach. Miraculously, after my mom prayed it was now on my bib. She immediately began to thank God for performing another miracle on me. He let me live, and I am truly grateful for that. A few months later, there was another substance that would constantly grow which developed a blockage on my trachea and had to be surgically removed. Once the blockage was removed another would grow in another area. My mom couldn't understand why this substance continued to grow after all the countless surgeries that I had to endure to get them removed. Because of the blockage that kept reappearing and growing, I had to undergo an emergency tracheotomy. As my family rushed me to the hospital, they prayed over me. When the surgery was finally over, the surgeon came out holding my tracheotomy tube, which is a plastic instrument that was used to enable me to breath, in hand, saying that the scar tissue must have disappeared because neither he nor any of the other doctors could see what was affecting my airway; it was clear. This was another miracle that God performed in my favor. Unfortunately, when the doctors removed my trachea, they scratched my vocal chords, paralyzing my left vocal chord. My left vocal chord moves but only to an extent, but slanted. Therefore my chords don't connect, so they don't produce a regular, normal sound. This is why I get annoyed when people often take advantage of me or joke about my voice saying "what" or “I can't hear you” after I comment on something. Know that this is the reason why people "can't" hear me. But I don't take it too much to heart because I know that they are ignorant to my story, me, and what it is to be me. Through all my struggles of life, I can honestly say that I am glad to be who I am today. My past has shaped me to be strong, loving, happy and allow me to simply not care about what others think of me. Because I know: who I am; who matters in my life and that I have an ample amount of people who sincerely love me for who I am; my faith in God is strong; as clear as he has had a presence and blessing in my life already, I know that he will continue to be with me every step of the way.

(OK) I’m not going to lie; trying to pick a topic to talk about was pretty hard.  Should I do something thought-provoking, like bringing back something from Rachel’s Challenge?  Or should I talk about leaders and their profound influence on the world?   Perhaps I should talk about the ridiculousness of homework?  Enough said.  

I loved this tweet I saw that said, "Squirrels don’t know the square root of x and they seem to be doing fine.”  I am aware that academics are very important, even if some things leave me wondering when I would apply it.  Nothing really inspired me, even though I could easily rant about anything.  I was sitting on my iPad getting distracted by Twitter notifications and Pandora commercials, zoning out and procrastinating, when it hit me.   I remembered when I was at my grandmother’s house looking through scrap books and found a letter that she wrote to her aunts in Scotland.  While reading the letter, I started to laugh.  She said, “Be right back, going to make breakfast.”  The funny thing was, her aunts would not receive the letter for three weeks.   Imagine, having to wait three weeks before you got the latest updates on your family.  How lucky are we…we have instantaneous communication.  When our parents went out at night, they had to make sure they had a dime for a phone call; we just have to make sure we have a full battery.  We have so many different ways of communicating.  Whether it's texting, skyping, or using Kik, we have a constant connection.  These connections have led to the incredible growth of social media… and a new obsession for teens. Imagine having to wait until you got home to talk on the phone with someone.  Consider a world where we did not have cell phones or iPads.  Can you even think about a time without the Internet and Google?  There was no such thing as SIRI, Vine, or YouTube.  Our parents don’t appreciate social media the same way that we do.

 My mom equates Twitter to sitting on a park bench screaming out your thoughts.  She had me go through my tl, or time line for the non-teens in the room, and yell out what people tweeted.  When I yelled out, “Ugh, I love this Chipotle burrito!” I understood why she thought it was ridiculous... but I’m still going to do it anyway.  I guess she doesn’t understand the importance of telling total strangers that we just had an amazing burrito.  It’s not just my mom either.  My old-fashioned, low tech, Italian father yells at me because I am not focusing on my homework.  He says things like, “Get off that Internet,” or “Get off tweeter and quit twitting.”  It takes all of me not to bust out laughing. When I take a billion selfies, it stresses my parents out.   You would think that they would appreciate the fact that you need to get a picture just right.  Maybe they are just jealous about the fact that we can change the picture instantly if we need to.  They had to wait three weeks to find out if they had a good picture or if my crazy Uncle Pat photobombed the shot.  She might not understand me taking a selfie when I should be reading Macbeth, but I did manage to convince my camera shy photographer mother to make some ridiculous faces for SnapChat.   Our parents don’t understand that it is possible to have 613 friends and that we don’t need to know our 1,205 followers on Instagram.  I mean we’re not judging them for loving hammer pants and big hair from the 80s. While I want to give them props for handling the iPod so well, I have to consider what it's going to be like with our kids.  What new things will our kids expose us to?  Are we going to be just like our parents?  Will our kids tease us for using an iPad and for having multi-colored straightened hair?   Oh wait, that’s just me.   I guess we’re just going to have to wait and see. Hmmm, now I have something new to tweet about.

Nina Forcellati `15 5 December 2013

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Sung Jun (Tim) Kim `15 12 December 2013

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However, I want to talk about this experience because this is the most special experience I have had. Before I came to America, I was just a fat kid who didn't do anything. I didn't study because I had no single interest in any subject I learned. I didn't play any sports because I didn't like to move. Everything was aimless until I had a chance to come to the U.S. When I entered fourth grade in elementary school, my parents decided to send me and my sister to Hawaii. I didn't know what they were talking about, but I understood that I had to be apart from my parents and take care of my sister. As a ten-year-old boy, I sure was afraid of my situation. Think if you were the one who could not see your family because there was no facetiming or snapchatting like today, and you received the huge responsibility of taking care of your sibling when you were in fourth grade. However, my parents already made up their minds. I went to Hawaii and began my first American life. It was, is, and will be the toughest time in my life. The language was different, the culture was different, and everything was different from what I had been seeing my entire life. For example, I didn't understand why people were telling me "bless you" when I sneezed because in Korea, we say nothing to those who sneeze. I had a slow start of my American Life compared to other students who came with me. At home, I was forced to memorize new words by my guardians because they would not let us go outside to play if we failed our so called "daily test." Even though I was able to pass it sometimes, I

forgot the new words right after, so it didn't help. At school, I didn't do anything because I couldn't continue conversations. One year passed and I was not able to keep up with my classmates, so the school offered me to stay in fourth grade for one more year. This made me look back at what I had done since I left my family, and I found out that I didn't do anything. I decided to live better. First, I took advantage of what I had. I memorized 100 new words that my guardian gave everyday. This helped me to  talk more in school because I just knew more than before. I also began to work out to turn that fat into muscle. I tried my best to change myself. Then, I improved little by little. I was able to get higher grades than usual. I lost weight and was able to get stronger. Not only did I transform physically, I also transformed in here (pointing to my head). I began to think that I could do a better job. I challenged myself to learn more. It was not forced by anyone, but I motivated myself to learn more, which builds up to the present day Tim Kim. I would like to ask you guys to remember just one thing. You don't have to remember my stories about how I was a bad student and learned 100 words a day and all the other stuff, but remember to use your opportunities as advantages and keep challenging yourself. You might fail sometimes, but it is natural for a person to fail. What I think is failure now would bring bigger success in the future as there is a proverb  saying, "failure is the mother of success." So remember, if you use your chance and challenge yourself, everything else will follow as you plan.

Everyone close your eyes. Then, imagine if you were in the airport, and the first thing you see, now open your eyes, is this (show the letter: 환영합니다). This is exactly how I felt when I saw this (show its translation: welcome), when I first came to America. I want to talk about my experience when I first came to America. Yes, I know every other international student would start with the phrase, "when I first came to America..." when writing a reflection.

Brenna Hurley `14 13 December 2013

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There are two sides to every story. Someone snaps at you because she got in a fight with her parents or your boss ridicules you in front of all your co-workers, because he woke up late that morning and his car wouldn't start. There are two sides to me, two sides to you and two sides to Jacqueline. I have gone to a summer camp in Connecticut, since I was eight years old and this summer I was a junior counselor. I breezed through five out of seven of my weeks as a JC in the cabins of fourteen- and thirteen-year-olds. Although I did have to help these girls get through bullying and camp crushes, it still didn't feel like much

responsibility, given that they were old enough to know right from wrong and take care of themselves, for the most part. But I knew my responsibility level would rise when I was assigned Cabin 1, the youngest campers at camp. It was in this cabin that I met Jacqueline. I spent the last check-in day of my summer as a JC, meeting and greeting all my new campers. When I met Jacqueline she seemed like a perfectly quirky eight-year-old like most are. Although she arrived at camp with only about three shirts, three pairs of shorts, a tooth brush and a bathing suit for a two week stay in the woods, it was not until later in her stay that I realized Jacqueline was not an average camper. Every night when the campers began to fall asleep, Jacqueline would knock on her bunk and scratch her mattress. This of course upset the other girls and would end in a blame game on Jacqueline. In the morning, when other campers got up to get dressed and ready for the day, Jacqueline would cry about all her clothes being dirty and I had to give away almost half my clothes to her, which was fine with me as long as it made her stop crying for maybe just fifteen minutes. When Jacqueline wasn't crying, she was singing the "cup song," which was a refreshing change from her usual antics at first and then just got plain annoying for all involved. Jacqueline also refused to eat anything but cherry tomatoes and if at lunch they didn't have cherry tomatoes available, of course there was a fit. I told her to breathe in and out and count down from ten, but nothing ever worked; she just cried and cried and cried. I tried all my tricks on Jacqueline to get her to behave, but nothing ever worked. At that point, I despised Jacqueline. I found myself getting impatient even with my other campers and counted down the days to my next day off. Throughout the week, Jacqueline would violently hiss at other campers and counselors. I told her numerous times that this was not tolerated at camp and that she must stop, but she continued to hiss at people as a threat. I explained to her that if she did this again she would get her swimming privileges taken away. On the night of what the campers know as evening free swim, Jacqueline was playing frisbee with some campers and staff while loudly singing the cup song. When a staff member asked her to stop this, she

jumped onto his back and hissed at him. When I heard of this event, I told Jacqueline she could not participate in that night's activity. It was very sad to see her cry because she couldn't participate, but at this point I was fed up. I sat her down in the staff office and together we wrote eight apology letters to the people she had hissed at. Never did I think I would have to say "dear _______ I'm sorry for hissing at you" eight times. Luckily, Jacqueline did learn her lesson about hissing, but not about controlling her emotions. The next day, campers were offered a chance to do karaoke in front of everyone at dinner as long as they signed up with a song in advance. Jacqueline jumped at the chance to do this and signed up for the song "Fire Burning" by Sean Kingston. When we got to dinner that night Jacqueline came running toward me screaming, "I want to sing the cup song! I don't want to sing that other song! I want to sing the cup song!" I explained to her that she already signed up for the other song and that she could not sing the cup song. She sobbed. She broke down and cried over the cup song. I said to myself, "This kid must be spoiled. Why is she crying over a song?" I found out three days later that Jacqueline was anything but spoiled. A day I thought would be one of the happiest of my life turned out to be one of the saddest. This was my last day with Jacqueline, and while we were walking to breakfast together she told me some upsetting news. We were fooling around and talking to each other and she told me "I love saying 'kk' cause I can't at home or my mom hits me." I was very disturbed by this news whether it was true or not. I began asking her questions about why her mom hits her and how it makes her feel and she continued to tell me that when she doesn't do little things like finish her sandwich her parents take turns beating her and making her sit in a corner for a day. Unfortunately, I was not informed of this until the day Jacqueline's parents came to pick her up. And when they did I got a horrible feeling in my stomach that it was my fault she would be going home with them, that I should have asked her more about her home life sooner. I then went through the process of filling out forms to report the abuse and made several phone calls. I never got to know whether or not Jacqueline was taken out of her home. I still feel bad for hating Jacqueline so much. It was so easy to hate her because I didn't know her background. Jacqueline taught me never to judge a person without fully understanding who he or she is. Hitting anyone especially a child is something I will never be able to comprehend. I keep Jacqueline in my heart everyday and hope she is in a better home.

but when it docked in Havana two weeks later, all passengers were not allowed off the boat into Cuba. The ship turned around after 9 days in Havana Harbor and sailed to Belgium. The Löb family lived in Belgium for ten months, while they were waiting for another ship to take them to the United States. They could not afford to send everybody, because money was tight. The plan was to send Ruth, Armin and their mother on this ship, and once they got to America they would send money back to Germany and pay for everyone to come over. In April 1940, Ruth, her mother, and her brother sailed for the United States. They landed and settled in New York. But, for the rest of the family it was too late. Everybody was sent to Auschwitz, where they all were gassed. This has severely impacted my grandmother. All her aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins and friends died. If she had not been on that boat, she would have died too. My grandmother inspires me with her courage. It is not easy for her to share her story. She was only six when her dad was taken away and eight when she came to America. Many people who have been through all she has may have been depressed, but not her. She always finds the joy in everything. She realizes that she is lucky to be alive, and lives everyday to the fullest. Another reason I admire my grandmother is because she is accepting of all peoples. When my father wanted to marry my mother, who is Catholic, my grandmother did not have a problem with it, like many Jewish mothers do. She has always been supportive of the fact that my siblings and I are Catholic. She has come to all the Baptisms and First Communions. This just proves how accepting my grandmother is. She has spoken to me once about our different religions. She said, "We both believe in being kind and loving, but most importantly, we worship the same God, and that's all that matters." I am very lucky that my grandmother is this accepting, or else I may have been shunned from the family. My grandmother inspires me to learn more about the Jewish tradition. She also inspires me to learn more about the Holocaust. I feel a sense of responsibility, as someone who had family members die in it. I also feel responsibility to tell my grandmother's story. I do not want my family's story to be forgotten, and I know it won't. That is why I shared it with you today.

Rebekah Forrest `17 17 December 2013

Many people come into our lives that impact us in countless way. Whether it is a friend, family member, teacher, or boss, people are constantly affecting our lives in positive ways. A person who has done this for me is my paternal grandmother. I admire her tremendously because of all the horrific acts she has witnessed and all the courage she has because of them. I also admire how accepting she is.

My Grandmother, Ruth Löb, was born in 1932 and lived in a small town in Germany called Malsch with her mother Bella, father Leopold, and older brother Armin. Her family was very well-respected, as her father was the president of the local synagogue. On November 9 and 10, 1938, a wave of pogroms, which are series of violent acts, took place in many parts of Nazi Germany. Many Nazis smashed the windows of synagogues, Jewish-owned stores and buildings. Jewish hospitals, homes, and schools were ransacked and over 1,000 temples were burned. This night has since been named Kristallnacht, which translates to "Night of Broken Glass" because afterwards glass from windows lined all the streets. Because my great-grandfather, Leopold, was the president of the synagogue, he was in high demand. The Germans did not want him to continue leading worship at the synagogue. During Kristallnacht, he and the other men in his family were arrested and sent to Dachau concentration camp, the first one set up. They were released six weeks later. Leopold knew that things were only going to get worse, and by staying in Germany he was putting his family in even more danger, so immediately after being released, he fled to the United States. Leopold purchased tickets for the S.S. St. Louis that was to take his family to Cuba, and then they would move on to the United States. In May of 1939, Ruth, at the age of seven, her brother, her mother, aunt, cousin and grandparents all boarded the S.S. St. Louis,

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Lauren McCarthy `16 18 December 2013

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Even before high school, everyone is branded with a label. The jock, the geek, the prep, and so forth. We sometimes let these labels define who we are for the rest of our school years, but what if that label does not define the real you? What if you are just called the jock, the geek, or the prep because that is how other people see you, not how you see yourself? That has happened to me before. When I was younger, I was called emo and goth by kids at my old school and even by some of my friends.

Sometimes, it would be to my face, and sometimes, it would be behind my back. I didn't wear dark clothes as a child or anything like that. I was just very shy and not as talkative as the other kids. I couldn't really help it. As much as I would try to talk to other kids, I would chicken out and just keep to myself. I had friends, it was just that I was the quiet one of the group. Even when I was younger, I was shy and having an older sister who didn't talk didn't really help. The ironic thing is I was the one who was supposed to get my sister to talk, instead I played follow the leader and kept my mouth shut. I hated being so shy because I knew that I was different when it came to my family. I would laugh a lot more, smile a lot more, and even do a lot of crazy and fun things with my cousins. For example, when we were six, my cousin, Ryan, and I decided to jump off the top of the swing set in our grandparents' backyard. It seemed like a good idea at the time. However, I didn't account for the possibility of breaking my arm, which I did, in the process. So, if I could be myself with my family, why couldn't I be myself with my friends I often wondered? Eventually, I got sick of wondering and decided I need to change if I am going to have fun at school. By seventh grade, I slowly changed my attitude, talked to people more, and even cracked a few jokes from time to time. Before I knew it, up until eighth grade graduation, I was having the time of my life and the best part was I was being who I am and not what others say I am.

Don't get me wrong, I can still be a little shy, and I do not know who I really am yet, but I'm okay with that because I am still trying to figure it out. Stephen Chbosky said in his book, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, "I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we came from, we can still choose where we go from here.” The labels people place on you do not define you. We have the ability to choose what kind of people we want to be. Thank you.

Copyright 2014 by Saint Joseph Preparatory High School

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