I Am the Center of My Universe

By Anna Caliandro

Monday

The usual banter about the weekend, and sports, and such things that fascinate the teenagers of the North Branch School came to an end as Tal stomped into the room, and we began morning meeting.

“Does anyone have anything?” Asked Tal, as he usually did, to begin our morning meeting. Nathan told us about how he and a few other boys had gone to sleep over at Yared’s house, and instead of staying inside to enjoy the seemingly endless joys of video games, they went outside to sit around a bonfire and talk until eleven until Nathan got scared and they went inside.

Simon told us about how his Grandmother is very sick, and how when he was advised to make a card, instead, he thought about the book “My Name is Asher Lev”, which his lit class is currently reading, and instead wanted to paint a picture for her, similar to a painting by Picasso. Not to imitate Picasso’s art, but to have the same effect, so that when you look it, you have to look beyond shapes, designs and colors, which are beautiful by themselves, but look beyond that to understand the meaning, and that is what Simon tried to do with his Painting.

Reed read Sonnet XII by William Shakespeare.

When I do count the clock that tells the time,

And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;

When I behold the violet past prime,

And sable curls all silvered o’er with white;

When lofty trees I see barren of Leaves

Which erst from heat which canopy the herd,

And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves

Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,

Then of thy beauty do I question make

That thou among the wastes of time must go,

Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake

And die as fast as they see others grow;

And nothing ‘gainst Time’s scythe can make defence

Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

In Science class, we are working on completing our projects from over the course of the year, some of which we are completing from years before this. A few of us are working on completing the slate roof of the Bread Oven, making the slates overlap perfectly. Some of us are working to create a garden on a slope, but terracing it with stone walls. There are some people who are testing the soil, and planning out how to grow Vegetables efficiently in the Garden. Some of us are running around, flipping through books and running through the woods, to complete our Fitness Trail, which we will run dutifully so as to be true Spartans.

In the Afternoon, we watched two slideshows, one with pictures from the Ninth Grade hike, and one with pictures the Luke took on his trip in Barcelona. Seeing pictures of something that you are not a part, such as the ninth grade hike, of or have not experienced, such as Barcelona, provides a glimpse into that, to understand even just a fraction of what we haven’t experienced yet. It isn’t gossip, it’s not like playing truth or dare when you constantly want to know more gossip, but are afraid to ask a question. Looking at the pictures just lets us see a tiny fragment of what other people experience, and who they are.

Tal read Yared’s Story, which he titled “Ethiopia’s Dream”. It was about Yared, being adopted from Ethiopia, and then living in Vermont for several years, and being with American Aunts and Uncles, and not feeling true love for all of them, always wearing a fake, cheesy smile. The he went back to Ethiopia, and at first he wasn’t sure what it would be like, he was scared about what it would be, but then he found that he felt enormous love towards Ethiopia, and his family there. He saw the places from his childhood, where he would play soccer, and where he would steal bananas because he was hungry. He saw all of these places, and saw his family, and he loved it all, and felt a lot of love, when he would watch his little sister, or hug his mother, when he was with his family, all superficial feelings left him, and the only feeling that remained was Love.

He went back to Vermont, and one night as he was typing his story, he sat at his desk, and saw photographs of his family in Ethiopia. He began to think about his two families, his family in America, and his family in Ethiopia. He felt equal love for all of them, and knew that they loved him in return. He ended his story by saying something that was very smart: “The thing that counts is the love, and as long as I have that love I can be who I am where ever I am.”

Tuesday

On Tuesday Morning, Jesse turned in an outstanding, beautiful, meaningful story about Desire, Truth, and Love into Tal- printed on paper with a light blue border and snowflakes, and a large Frosty the Snowman on the bottom right corner. We joked before meeting about the outrage and scandal of turning in a profound, meaningful piece of writing in on Frosty the Snowman paper. It isn’t actually that scandalous. It would just be a little like the Constitution being written on a floral Garnet Hill bed sheet.

Meeting began with Tal showing us an article in Sports Illustrated on the World Cup Soccer. He showed us pictures, and talked to us about the importance of soccer, how it made people stop hating each other in some places so that they could watch Soccer. He showed us pictures of people playing soccer all around the world- The streets of Haiti, even after the earthquake, French Polynesia, and many others. He told us about how Brazil was where soccer first became beautiful, the moves becoming beautiful, the sport not just a sport, but a beautiful sport. But then the country became an economic powerhouse, and the soccer style became very conservative, and lost all it’s creativity and beauty. This is a little like what happens to people as they get older. When we are younger, we don’t have analytical minds, we don’t constantly worry, and we are just free in ourselves. We still have creative minds, which can produce beautiful things. But then as we grow older, we become more aware, out minds become analytical, and we start to worry about things that we didn’t worry about when we were very little, and we lose the creativity that made us beautiful, and become like Brazil, an Economic Powerhouse, with Analytical Minds, and constant worrying. This is like the quote by Picasso. “All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” We have to remember who we are, who we were before we cared so much and became obsessive, before we lose our creativity and freedom. What we are constantly searching for, we, I mean the students at the North Branch School, is how to become free in ourselves, and still stay who we are.

Luke told us about how he had been researching World War II and the Holocaust, and he read a timeline. He noticed how slowly but surely, things continued to get worse, and insane in terms of cruelty and injustice. He became very angry about this. He thought at first that his anger was a bad thing, because he thought that that made him like Hitler, but then he realized that his anger was a good thing, because he realized that if he hadn’t gotten angry, he wouldn’t have cared as much, and his anger showed that he cared.

Luke read a poem that he picked out, with the Ninth Graders leaving in mind. It is called “Goodbyes,” by David Harris.

Edgar gave a great project on Sustainable Food. The Definition of Sustainable is: “Capable of being continued while minimizing effects on environment.”

We discussed how Sustainable food is Utopian. On a very obvious level, Utopia wouldn’t be very good or Utopian if there was no good food. You just wouldn’t be healthy. You also have to have food that woks with nature to be Utopian. If we compare Utopia to the world, there are seasons, and that effects food. We grow food when it isn’t the proper season for it, which is not Utopian at all, it’s strange and not natural.

Edgar told us about food, and what it can do to you. So many people eat food that is terrible for them, and they don’t even realize it. Corn is in so many things. It is way over produced. It is being grown so much that it destroys the soil, and we shouldn’t even be growing it so much, because it’s just a cheap resource. When it’s put into food, it’s not good for you. Corn Consumption, in some form, Like Corn Starch or Corn Syrup is one of the leading causes of Obesity, it’s terrible for you, but it’s in almost everything. Corn relates to how Animals are treated unfairly as well. Cows, the source of Beef and Milk. Cows are fed corn, but cows cannot digest corn properly, so they are fed hormones which really just make the cows unhealthy. He told us about how the Government supports big meat producing companies, the ones who don’t treat their animals right, give them hormones and keep them in tiny stalls and coops, and the Government gives the big meat companies that sell the meat which isn’t very good for you, for lower prices, so that families without a lot of money can afford it, which is not smart at all, because it is not helping the families at all. And then the good Meat Companies, that treat their animals correctly and don’t give them hormones, let them graze in fields and feed them the right food are not paid very much at all, so they, the ones who are doing everything right, treating the animals right, so that they produce healthy meat for people to eat, these companies have to raise the prices of their meat, and so then not as many people can afford to buy the meat that is good for you, good for the earth, and that is the company where the Animals have been treated correctly.

Edgar showed us a video, from diet.com. It was an interview with a Woman who bought a meal from McDonalds, complete with a Burger and Fries, which she carried it around in her purse for four years. She also carried around food without preservatives, a raw slice of a potato. She compared the potato, without any preservatives or grease or anything on it, to a McDonalds French Fry. The Potato with no preservatives had mold growing on it, which, for once, was a relief to see. The French Fry from McDonalds had become grey, and shriveled, but didn’t have the slightest trace of mold on it. The McDonald’s Hamburger was the same. The bun was crumbling, but still had no mold. The burger itself had shriveled, as it had lost all it’s moisture, but like the other McDonald’s foods, it had no trace of mold anywhere.

At the end of Edgar’s project, he had an activity for us to do. He had brought in a loaf of Wonderbread, and a loaf of nice, bakery made, local bread with good ingredients. He brought in Cheese made in Grafton Vermont, with a red wax encasing it, and Easy Cheese, in a metal spray can with an artificial looking seal. Both cheeses cost the same amount. They both weighed the same. But one of them came from Grafton, Vermont, and one of them came from Illinois. Then, he insisted that we TASTE them both. We were horrified. Or at least most of us were. Ollie jumped up to be the first one to get his sample of Wonderbread and Easy Cheese. He tasted it, and announced to the room that it tasted exactly like Butter. I do not think that most people shared Ollie’s happy opinion about Wonderbread and Easy Cheese. Most of us thought that it was completely revolting tasting.

In Lit Class, the Eighth and Ninth readers are reading “The Catcher in the Rye”. We talked about Holden Caulfield, and about how he only ever touches a feeling. He said in the first sentence of the book that he did not want to talk about his childhood, completely skipping over the events that shaped him. He was never prepared to go all the way into something, he always stayed where he was safe. When Jane Gallagher was nearby, a girl who he had spent an entire summer with, a dancer and a very nice girl, who he had a crush on, Holden stayed upstairs. Why? The fear of Rejection. Not giving himself, not making himself visible because it might be rejected. So he made himself visible to other things, the things that he didn’t really care about- other girls who he didn’t really love or care about. He made something visible to the people who he didn’t care about, but he wouldn’t show who he truly was to the person who he wanted to see, who he did truly care about, Jane Gallagher. He would say that he was unhappy, but he never says in a clear form why. Instead he stayed where he was safe, where he could pretend, take the name of someone else, and hide behind that, so as not to be seen. I thought about myself, as Holden Caulfield. I thought about us all, as Holden Caulfield, about how we avoid the truth because it may be rejected, we hide the truest part of ourselves, again, because of rejection. We grow older, and fear rejection. We lose the artist that was once inside of us, when we were younger, the free artist, who was free of the burden of caring too much. Holden starts to fear what he feels, maybe love, but his older mind is working, worrying, taking away his artist and who he truly is, taking away the truest part of himself, so that all is left is a boy who looks through a window, into a different life, so that he never has to face any people, rejection, but most of all, himself.

Wednesday

We had meeting downstairs in the clay room. Aylee raised her hand and told us about how she had been at the café in Barnes and Nobles, and she saw a tall, muscular Man being taught how to read by an old man. She saw him sounding out the words, still smiling, and thought about how being smart means being smart in the same way like everyone else, but to her what smart meant was the desire to learn.

We found out that the real reason that we had been summoned to the Clay Room for Morning Meeting was so that we could discuss the making of tiles, which would be painted nicely and neatly, and then hung on the walls in the Big Room. Edgar and Nathan read off some of the names of the Tile Paint. Jack O’ Lantern. Leaping Lizard. And many more. But our favorite name by far was Black. We all laughed at black’s clever title.

The NBS Teenagers then converted rapidly from being both hyperactive, thoughtful, and obviously sleep deprived teenagers into a melodious choir, and we sang Aylee a melodious Happy Birthday. We apologized in advance for our poor talent in terms of singing Happy Birthday, but we didn’t sound as bad as we usually did.

Evan read a poem that he himself had written called “Blind”. We gaped in astonishment when we learned that he had written it, not because we had not expected such a great thing from him, but only because it was incredible.

At dusk the tree stands straight again

And yesterday is forgotten

A feast of motion ends

With the closing of a blossom

But the still never cease to move

And we all know what is forgotten

Anger does not show the guilty what they’re sorry for

The truth is shown through mirrors

For only then can one see

I myself am not selfless

I myself see only me

We found out how to live

And yet I can not follow

Life is not a game with rules

We must only breathe and swallow

Yet I have learned much

And many have learned I

The Earth has no Pinnacles

But it is still an I

Life has no pupil

No center

There is no spot

But even without the ladder it has seen things I have not

Our triumphs are our downfalls

Our edges are our cores

We see life through empty sockets

We need not see to feel.

I can sit in myself all day,

Without moving,

Without opening my eyes,

And still I know,

I know the flower blossom's closing,

The branch’s stopping their dances,

And the light beginning to fade,

I know that it is dusk

I know this because I know I

I know myself

And I know everything,

I am the center of my universe.

In the Afternoon, we talked about a girl in our class. She couldn’t see the good in herself. She always thought that she was worse than she actually was. She obsessed over the things that she did not do exactly perfectly, and so then she failed to see all of the good in herself, even when she wanted to. She wanted to feel close to everyone, but sometimes had a harder time feeling like that. She had written a story about a good friend of hers, but who she used to be a lot closer to, and she was worried that when the friend heard the story, he would not care, and would sit there, stone-like. We talked about this for a long time, as she cried and told us everything that she was feeling. This wasn’t like gossip, either. It isn’t gossip for us to find out about what other people are feeling, it’s like looking at the pictures in a slideshow, we are simply trying to find, and beginning to understand, a side of a person that we do not usually see. We can skip all of the false exteriors presented and we can see people for who they truly are, and when we get a glimpse of who someone truly is, we hold on to this glimpse as if it were the only thing in the entire world, just for the moment.

Thursday:

On Thursday Morning, Anneke told us about how she and her sister had gone outside and stood in the storm for a long time. She was with her, and was realizing the changes in her sister. She thought that he sister was acting too much older, and should be acting younger and not so grown-up. She saw how her sister always seemed really frustrated at everything, and she was sad that it was like this,

Luke Presented his project on Fascism. Fascism is a Government where a few people are in control of everything, including industry and business and banks, but mainly run by a dictator. Everyone is equal, so it is like Communism, except for the Dictator who decides everything. The belief behind Fascism was mainly that if you killed or dominated what you did not like, you would have Utopia. He told us about Nationalism, which is believing that the State itself comes before everything else. Communism is based off of a belief that no one owns anything. Authoritarianism is where there is a Dictatorship. And a Democracy is a government run by the people.

The first Fascist was Benito Mussolini. Mussolini was born in 1883, and for much of his childhood, he worked with his Father in his Father’s blacksmith shop. Working there, from a young age he was exposed to his Father’s Socialist beliefs. Mussolini had a very big ego, and he was very violent. He stabbed a boy in boarding school during a fight. He began to give speeches about his beliefs, and was very well liked. He was a member of the Socialist Party, but then he was expelled when they found out that he had started a Fascist Newspaper. He founded an official Fascist Party in Italy, and then in 1922 he became the prime minister of Italy. When he was running for Prime Minister, he stated that he was running as a Socialist, and then when he was elected, he declared himself Fascist. When he was in power, there were elections for other Prime Ministers, but they were fixed, so that no one else got elected but him, and so that he would be Prime Minister until he died. He could control everything- He could control what kids in schools did and learned- He could ensure that they were all told about how great Mussolini was, so that they would think that he was great. He died in 1945, when he and his wife were both killed because people did not like him anymore, because everything that he did was cruel and disasterous, and it had gone on for too long.

Then Luke told us about Hitler. Hitler was born in Austria, in 1889. Hitler was a carefree child, but after seeing a book about Franco, he became obsessed with war. His Father beat him regularly, but he was close to his mother. In Elementary School be would always fight with his Teacher and his Father, but he had respect and a good relationship with his Mother. Hitler wanted to go to a Classical High School to study art, but his father didn’t let him, and this made Hitler even angrier with his father. When Hitler was 21, his mother died. In 1907, he was rejected from the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna. It is very likely that the Headmaster of the Academy was Jewish, and that could have played in a role in Hitler’s insane hatred of Jews later on in life. He tried to be a street artist, and in 1909, he ran out of money and was forced to go to a Homeless Shelter.

Then he went to the German Workers Party, and was elected the leader of National Socialist German Workers Party. We then read a poem by Wislawa Szymborska about Hitler, that imagined Hitler as a cute little boy, and what he could have grown up to be

Hitler's First Photograph

And who’s this little fellow in his itty-bitty robe?

That’s tiny baby Adolf, the Hitler’s little boy!
Will be grow up to be an LL.D?

Or a tenor in Vienna’s Opera House?

Whose teensy hand is this, whose little ear and eye and nose?

Whose tummy full of milk, we just don’t know:

Printer’s, doctor’s, merchant’s, priest’s,

Where will those tootsy-wootsies finally wander?

To garden, to school, to an office, to a bride,

Maybe to the Burgermeister’s daughter?

Precious little angel, mommy’s sunshine, honeybun,

While he was being born a year ago,

There was no death of signs on the earth and in the sky:

Spring sun, geraniums in windows,

The organ-grinder’s music in the yard,

A lucky fortune wrapped in rosy paper,

Then just before the labor his mother’s fateful dream:

A dove seen in dream means joyful news,

If it is caught, a long-awaited guest will come.

Knock knock, who’s there, it’s Adolf’s heartchen knocking.

A little pacifier, diaper, rattle, bib,

Our bouncing boy, thank God and knock on wood, is well,

Looks just like his folks, like a kitten in a basket,

Like the tots in every other family album.

Shush, let’s not start crying, sugar,

That camera will click from under that black hood.

The Klinger Atelier, Grabenstrasse, Braunau,

And Braunau is small but worthy town,

Honest businesses, obliging neighbors,

Smell of yeast dough, of gray soap.

No one hears howling dogs or fate’s footsteps.

A history teacher loosens his collar

And yawns over homework.

We watched a Clip of a propaganda movie, “Triumph of the Will,” that showed Hitler as a strong speaker, someone who you couldn’t help but as to see as someone to look up to and follow.

We then talked about the Holocaust and WW II. The war began September 1st, 1939. The holocaust was a systematic prosecution of Jews, Gypsies, Homosexuals, handicapped, Catholics, and political dissidents. Anyone who resisted the Nazis were murdered, so there was no way of getting out of this. In the Holocaust, there were 13,000,000 people killed. Then we talked about Franco. He was born in Spain in 1892 into a Military family. Became a soldier of the Spanish Army, and was the youngest general in Europe. He seized control over Spain. There was no freedom of speech, and the only religion allowed was Catholicism. Everything was controlled by Franco. We read several quotes by Franco, such as “Communists should be crushed like worms” and agreed that he was really not a very smart man.

Friday:

On Friday morning, Calder told us about how he had been playing Soccer with Ollie, and it was good to do something with him that was just fun and not competitive. Jesse told us about how she had been trying to list what she thought she was good at, and wondered why she had been so convinced that she was bad all of the time. But as she made the list she then found goodness in herself. Tal talked about Jesse’s story, which she was making the list for, and a Painting that Jesse liked. Talking about the Painting led Tal into talking about Curious George, and how The Man in the Yellow Hat was kind of a dumb monkey owner. According to Tal he should have learned after Curious George getting away so many times to just keep Curious George on a leash.

Claire told us about how she had been swimming, and she saw a family in disarray. The parents were smoking, and being mean to their children, and holding them under water, and then the children would come up laughing. She thinking about how that family was just one of so many, there were so many families like that, and how she should be so grateful to have the family that she does. Then Claire read us a poem Called “Black Maps”, by Mark Strand.

Black Maps

Not the attendance of stones,

nor the applauding wind,

shall let you know

you have arrived,

nor the sea that celebrates

only departures,

nor the mountains,

nor the dying cities.

Nothing will tell you

where you are.

Each moment is a place

you’ve never been.

You can walk

believing you cast

a light around you.

But how will you know?

The present is always dark.

Its maps are black,

rising from nothing,

describing,

in their slow ascent

into themselves,

their own voyage,

its emptiness,

the bleak temperate

necessity of its completion.

As they rise into being

they are like breath.

And if they are studied at all

it is only to find,

too late, what you thought

were concerns of yours

do not exist.

Your house is not marked

on any of them,

nor are your friends,

waiting for you to appear,

nor are your enemies,

listing your faults.

Only you are there,

saying hello

to what you will be,

and the black grass

is holding up the black stars.

Then we went and planned the Indian meal that we would be cooking the following Friday. We got with our groups, each that would be working on cooking a different part of the meal. The groups were Grill, Legumes, Desert, Bread, Curry, and Exclamation Point (Which is the group that decided on something additional).

Then we went outside to work on our end of year Projects. The ninth graders worked on making their Sun Dial at the foot of where our garden with Stone Walls is being built. Some worked on making the Garden and the walls. Some worked on the bread oven. Some people worked on their Projects for the Fitness trail. Everything that we have done in terms of big projects in science is beginning to come to a finish, neatly and smoothly as the school year ends, and it feels good, it feels like we’ve accomplished, and done something truly amazing.

Edgar finished presenting his project, which was amazing and we learned a lot. Then in the afternoon, Tal read Sophie’s story. Sophie’s story was amazing.

Her story was about her friend Evan. When Sophie and Evan were younger, and still went to school at Bridge School, they had a crush on each other. They were friends also, everything was nice and they were friends. Something happened between Sophie and Evan while they were at Bridge School, that made Evan think that Sophie didn’t still like him. They had ended the year at Bridge School not very close. Then they went to North Branch, and it was worse. Sophie and Evan started to move away from each other, Sophie’s romantic feelings for Evan faded, and started for someone else. So they drifted apart from each other, and then they rarely talked, and were cold to each other, sarcastic, and mean. In the end, Sophie found that she still loved Evan, not romantically. She still loved him, like a brother, and wanted to be friends with him, and saw all of the good in him.

Evan commented on Sophie’s story after it was read. He said that while he had been listening to Sophie’s story, he had started listing things that he loved. One of the things was, “I love Sophie”. He saw again that he loved Sophie, a lot, and that he always would. He started crying because he loved her. They both could see all of the good in each other, and could love each other without the love ever being false.

What we’ve done and built up over the course of the entire year is coming to a finish. We’re completing everything. We’re trying to look through words that appear small, shallow, insignificant, and find meaning in those. We’re trying to see ourselves and to understand that. While doing so, we are thinking about the end, and whatever it is that is coming. We have no idea what that is, and in my mind I see it as a blurry idea that I will never understand until I am there, but I’m searching, wishing to understand. On the first day of school we were told to open our eyes wide, and to keep them open until the end of the year, until now, in June. So that is all that we can do. Keep our eyes open as we begin to understand what we are searching for.