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Arts and Culture, Home

Mark Watney’s Journey Through Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

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by Lucas David

The book, The Martian, by Andy Weir, is packed with many kinds of science, but psychology is one of the less explored sciences of the book. However, though the author does not emphasize psychological processing as a theme, it is clear that he did put time into thinking of the psychological aspects of the book. One example of this is how the protagonist, Mark Watney, behaves as he traverses Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. 

For those unfamiliar with Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, it is an idea proposed by Maslow of the five levels of human needs that humans usually pursue in order. Near the bottom of the hierarchy, so the first in the order, are physiological needs, such as food, water, shelter, and sleep, followed by safety needs, like employment, health, and property. Next are emotional needs, such as friendship, family, intimacy, and a sense of belonging. The last two levels are esteem, meaning respect, freedom, and accomplishment; and self actualization, which is the desire to reach one’s full potential in life.

Before the storm comes and Watney is struck by the satellite dish, he is attempting to achieve historical and scientific accomplishment. The moment that he wakes up after he was struck by the satellite dish, the first things he thinks about are his physiological and security needs. Once he is back inside the shelter with access to oxygen and has treated his wound, he then begins thinking about food and water. 

Watney spends a great deal of his time focused on attaining food and water. Once he has figured that out, we see him psychologically begin to move back up the pyramid of needs in his desire to reach out to humanity. While technically he needs people to maintain his physiological needs, we also see that he has moved up a rung on the hierarchy of needs in that he is motivated to be in contact with other humans and to be reunited with his family. 

Near the end of the book, I believe that Mark Watney begins demonstrating signs of desiring accomplishment and fulfillment, even though his focus is on returning to his family and staying alive. We are seeing hints of him wanting to accomplish something significant and memorable, even though he hasn’t yet completely returned to safety. Despite the possibility of him not surviving the journey home, he is still wanting to connect with and reassure his loved ones. We see this with the note that he leaves for his family via a colleague. 

Immediately after his space launch home, he ends up floating through space, trying to stay alive again. It seems that just as he was finally returning to his peak psychological status, he has dropped all the way back to the bottom of the hierarchy again, as he desperately fights to stay alive. 

Overall, Mark Watney experiences a psychological roller coaster ride throughout his extended stay on Mars that reflects Maslow’s established Hierarchy of Needs.

Arts and Culture, News, Student Life

An Interview With Author Millie Florence

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by Meru S.

Millie Florence is the author of three middle-grade novels including Honey Butter, which she wrote and self-published at the age of thirteen.

Honey Butter is a simple yet vividly descriptive tale of joy and sorrow, lightheartedness and contemplation, anger and love. The storyline follows Jamie Johnson, a young girl with a passion for collecting paint cards, and her friend Laren Lark, who, at nearly thirteen, is several years older than Jamie. 

As I read this book, I did not notice a completely perceivable plot. Instead, I felt as though I had entered the lives of the characters and was observing the typical events of their days. Nevertheless, I was gently gripped by the book without the need for dramatic occurrences or twisted mysteries. 

Other novels by Millie Florence are Beyond Mulberry Glen, which will be released in early 2025 from Waxwings Books, and The Banter of Ashton Harper, published in 2023. 

Having read Honey Butter, I decided to interview the author of this book. I had heard that she was homeschooled, as am I, a fact that inspired me to email her with a few questions. 

What was your inspiration to write Honey Butter?

I got the idea for my first book, Honey Butter, while waiting for my parents in a paint store. Somewhat bored, I began reading the names of the paint cards.

Vivid jungle, cherry soda, bubble bath.

I was amazed how, with only two or three words, the titles painted a picture in my mind. I began to take the cards home with me until I had a small collection sitting on the edge of my bookshelf. Then I asked the first question:

“What if I wrote about a person who was obsessed with collecting paint cards?”

From this question, the character of Jamie Johnson began to take shape, and the story of Honey Butter slowly formed around her.

That’s how my ideas usually come about–a small spark of interest followed by a lot of questions. I find those sparks in paintings, overheard conversations, nature, history, the dictionary, antique shops, or a door-knocker on a house in Oxford that was shaped like a dragonfly.

I notice the world. I look carefully and pay attention to the things that interest me. Then I ask questions about them. A story is born from curiosity and good questions.

In Honey Butter, the protagonist, Jamie, has a hobby of collecting paint cards. Was that something you enjoyed doing when you were working on the book?

Yes! My collection got large enough that I kept it all in a shoebox, just like Jamie! The brand of the shoebox was “Piper”, and one day, while trying to think of a name for Erica’s friend, I looked over at the shoebox, which had “Piper” written across the top in big, pink letters, and I thought “That’s perfect!” 

Since the book has been published, people will often give me paint cards as gifts at author events. At one school visit a class gave me a box full of paint cards that they had all written on–thanking me for coming and telling me their favorite parts of the book. To this day it’s one of my favorite reader gifts.

After an idea for a storyline comes to you, what is the first step you take to begin writing a draft?

My writing process has changed slightly with every book. It’s always growing and evolving. I used to jump in headfirst as soon as I got an idea and write my first drafts without an outline. I felt as though outlines held me back and made my writing feel more unnatural. However, more recently I’ve discovered an outlining method that works well for me, developed by K. M. Weiland. It involves stream-of-consciousness journaling about your story idea, which I love, because it allows me the messy creative freedom I need, without requiring the massive structural rewrites to fix it later. I outlined the entire story of my current work in progress before I wrote a word of it, and it went very well!

So these days, the first step I take is to scribble down everything I know about the story so far, whether that’s a few disjointed scene ideas, a bit of funny dialogue, what I want the theme to be, or a long list of paint card names!

Do you have any techniques for overcoming writer’s block?

First of all, I don’t think writer’s block is as common as we writers would like to pretend. Much of the time, I think we can cry writer’s block when in reality we feel unmotivated or uninspired.

The trouble is, if I only ever wrote when I happened to feel inspired, I would write maybe five days a year.

Sometimes you need to take a break, especially when you’re tired or you’re genuinely not sure how to proceed with the story.

But a lot of the time, you won’t feel inspired until you actually start writing. There have been many, many days when I sat down to write, completely uninspired. But once I started writing, after about half an hour, suddenly I was excited about the project again. I started getting new ideas and really enjoying myself.

So what do I do when I feel uninspired? I write anyway. The act of writing in and of itself can be an inspiration.

That said, I did have major writer’s block for a year after my second novel came out. It sold more books in a month than Honey Butter had sold in a year. That was exciting but also terrifying. Suddenly, I was worried. None of my new ideas seemed nearly as good. What if I could never write something better than that? The thought was a bit irrational, looking back, but it’s hard not to get caught up in the emotions of the moment.

I harshly judged everything I came up with, writing drafts, and then discarding them. It was a very difficult time for me creatively. The way I finally found my way out was to stop putting so much pressure on myself and write because I loved it, not because of what other people might think–after all, that was why I started writing to begin with. That experience led me to write The Balter of Ashton Harper, which is all about finding joy in the act of creating.

The word Balter means “To dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment.” But it applies to more than just dancing.

To fend off writer’s block, try to write artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment.

When you publish a book, how do you celebrate?

Privately, the tradition has been to have a tea party with my family and friends! It’s no secret that I love tea, and baking, so I love to combine the two while spending time with the people I care about. Usually my family also buys me flowers.

I also celebrate with my readers all throughout the release with author events, live streams, giveaways… In many ways all the marketing I do for a release is just celebration!

I’ll be celebrating the release of my newest book, Beyond Mulberry Glen, on January 7th 2025. It’s already available for preorder, which means you can reserve a copy, along with some awesome pre-order goodies, inducing a signed bookplate. You can find out more on my website: millieflorence.com

Science

Learn About Your Body – The Circulatory System

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by Aleena Haimor

Have you ever wondered how your body works? How your heart beats? How your brain controls your body? Well, you’re in luck! I’m starting a new series on how the body works! Every publishing, I’ll dive into a different body system. Let’s begin!

First up is the circulatory system! It is one of the most well-known body systems. The circulatory system’s job is to transport blood and oxygen throughout the human body. It also helps get rid of waste, including carbon dioxide and other unneeded substances.

The circulatory system functions using blood vessels such as arteries, veins, and capillaries. There are seven steps:

  1. The right ventricle is one of the heart’s four chambers. Located on the lower right of the circulatory system, it sends to the lungs blood that is low or out of oxygen. Blood travels through the pulmonary trunk (which is the main pulmonary artery).
  2. The blood cells pick up oxygen from your lungs.
  3. Pulmonary veins carry the oxygen-rich blood from the lungs to the upper left chamber of the heart, also known as the left atrium.
  4. The left atrium sends the blood into the left ventricle, which is just below it. From there, it gets pumped to the rest of the body.
  5. The blood collects and drops off nutrients, waste, and hormones throughout the body. 
  6. Veins carry oxygen-less blood to the heart once again, and it gets pumped to the lungs. 
  7. The body gets rid of the leftover carbon dioxide waste when you exhale.

Wow! That’s a lot of information!

Stories

The Midgard Serpent – Percy Jackson Fanfiction ~ Ch. 8 & 9

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by Emery Pugh

SPOILER ALERT: The following content may reveal parts of the plot of the Percy Jackson book series. There may also be spoilers about the Heroes of Olympus book series, which is a five-book sequel to the Percy Jackson series. The Trials of Apollo series, the sequel to Heroes of Olympus, will be mentioned. It is highly recommended that you read at least the Percy Jackson series AND the first book of the Heroes of Olympus series. If you don’t mind the spoilers, then read on. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Chapter 8

Percy

Going through the sewer the first time was bad enough. The second time was much worse. I was super jittery and I constantly looked backwards, expecting a giant serpent to come slithering towards us any moment.

Finally, Annabeth and I emerged from the sewer. Mysteriously, the muck that we gained from tramping around in there had vanished as we rose to the surface in Camp Jupiter.

The campers had killed the drakon while we were gone. The carcass was spread across a blood-covered field with several javelins stuck in its mouth and one in each eye socket.

Frank and Hazel, the praetors of the camp and long time friends of mine, were assessing the damage done by the drakon.

“Frank, Hazel,” Annabeth rushed up to them. “Bad news.”

Frank’s face darkened. “Is it about the tunnel?”

“Yes.”

Annabeth related our encounter with the serpent in detail. Count on her to include the details.

“That can’t be good,” Hazel muttered.

“If the serpent shows up some day, we’re cooked,” I said. “It’s as thick as a dozen subway trains.”

Annabeth frowned. “More than that. Maybe fifteen of them?”

I sighed. “Isn’t a dozen subway trains depressing enough already?”

“But we need the exact details, Seaweed Brain.”

“Okay, Wise Girl,” I retorted. I wished I had a better retort than ‘Wise Girl.’

“Anyways,” Annabeth continued. “I don’t know what the serpent is doing, but it’s probably coming this way.”

“Does the serpent have any weaknesses?” Frank asked thoughtfully. “Does it fight poorly on land compared to at sea?”

I snorted. “No.”

Hazel pursed her lips. “Based on your description, this monster is more powerful than anything else we’ve faced, perhaps even the Titans or Giants. At least, it’s a lot larger.”

A haunting memory returned to me. I was back in the pit of Tartarus. The Titans Hyperion and Krios had just been sucked into the vortex of the god Tartarus. I doubted the Midgard Serpent was more powerful than Tartarus, who could permanently kill mortals and immortals alike.

Okay, let me clarify something. The pit Tartarus and the god Tartarus are two same yet also different things. The pit is the physical thing, and the god is the embodiment of the pit. Kinda like the difference between Zeus and the sky. Zeus is not the sky itself, and the same with the god Tartarus – the god Tartarus is not the pit itself. I hope that clears things up rather than making you more confused.

Almost forgot to mention: Tartarus has one little (actually very big and very creepy) difference in that analogy. Perhaps I’ll explain that another time.

“Hopefully not,” I replied after my momentary flashback. “But of course, things hardly go our way as demigods.”

“I’m going to call a Senate meeting tomorrow morning.” Frank decided. “Percy and Annabeth, you’ll have to attend as guests to explain the serpent stuff. Go get some sleep, everyone.”

At least I had a good night’s sleep before the meeting, right? It would be fair to let me have one night free of nightmares and visions predicting horrible fates of myself and the world.

Nope.

In my dream, I was falling. Total darkness surrounded me. The only thing I could perceive was the air rushing through my ears and my hand holding something. With a start, I realized this was a replay of a moment in my life: my fall to Tartarus. I was holding Annabeth’s hand.

The dream shifted. I was in Tartarus again – on solid ground this time. I could see the goddess of misery, Akhlys, running away into the distance. I realized again that this was a part of my past. This was the time when Akhlys shrouded Annabeth and me in Death Mist to hide us from the army of monsters at the Doors of Death (it might sound like she was trying to be helpful, but she betrayed us and attempted to kill us).

Annabeth and I were standing at the edge of a cliff, exactly as in my past. From the abyss below, a dark shadow arose – the goddess of Night, Nyx. I expected her to say what she said last time, but instead, she whispered, You and your demigod friends have won in the past, but you will not this time. Our forces are too strong, and even the gods are completely oblivious to our plans. The serpent is only a stepping stone to the destruction of Olympus.

The scene shifted again.

I was back at the beach with Annabeth where the serpent had emerged. The Midgard Serpent slowly rose from the sea. Suddenly, Annabeth vanished. Storm clouds covered the blue sky within seconds. The tropical forest behind me became barren. Acid rain began to fall.

Come to me. Your precious little camp cannot keep you safe, The serpent whispered.

Sunlight seeped through the hills. I looked outside the window, half expecting to see a monstrous serpent. A chill went up my spine.

The whisper unnerved me. Not just what he said – the power in the serpent’s voice. It was not unlike the effect Kronos’ voice had when he spoke – like the blade of a knife scraping up your spine.

A knock on my door snapped me to the present.

“Percy,” Annabeth called. “It’s time for the meeting.”

I sighed and threw off the covers, proceeding to change clothes as slowly as possible.

There was one thing I didn’t have to worry about, now that Annabeth and I didn’t live outside the city limits of New Rome (if you didn’t know, New Rome is a miniature replica of the actual Ancient Rome in Italy). I didn’t have to go through Terminus, the OCD border god, who guarded the Pomerian Line, which was the boundary between the city and the rest of the camp. I (and many others) call him OCD because… well actually, I don’t even have to explain. Just keep reading.

Oh, and another note about Terminus: his statue doesn’t have arms. Only imaginary ones – or perhaps he does mental pat downs. Never ask him about that, or he’ll probably make you measure every blade of grass in the entire valley.

I opened the door and confronted a frowning Annabeth, brows knitted together and a line of Romans was waiting to be evaluated by Terminus to my left.

“Frank, praetor, good,” Terminus was saying. “Hazel, praetor, pass. Wait. Can one of you move that brick? It’s an eighth of an inch out of line. Yes, that one. Thank you. Next. Come here. I’ll need to pat you down.”

“Uh, but you don’t have any… um…” the next person in line faltered.

“Never mind about that,” Terminus snapped.

Annabeth still seemed to be absorbed in thought. I touched her shoulder gently. “Hey. You’re thinking about a plan, right?”

“How did you know?” she asked.

“You ask me this question a lot. I know you.”

Annabeth sighed and took my hand. “Didn’t we come to New Rome to get away from all the demigod chaos? Well, now it looks like we might have to save the world again.”

I shook my head. “Our time is past. It’s time for some other demigods. We’re going to stay at camp. Together.” I squeezed her hand.

“Hey!” Terminus’s yell startled me. “Aren’t you supposed to be at that meeting?” He took on an expression of horror. “Percy, your underwear! They’re not centered!”

“What?” I looked down. “Wait. How can you see my underwear?”

“Just go on.” Terminus said miserably.

Annabeth and I smiled at each other. I took her hand. Together, we walked through New Rome into the Senate House.

We were the last ones to the meeting. Two guest seats were reserved for us.

Frank coughed. “Okay. Let’s begin. Centurions, anything to report? You know, other than the monster attacks and stuff.”

The centurion of the first cohort stood up immediately. “All of the first cohort’s barracks are covered in bubble gum wrappers.”

A ripple of laughter passed over the crowd. I noticed the fifth cohort members whispering to each other, which probably meant they were the ones who did it.

Frank paused and looked at Hazel expectantly.

“Okay. I know that recently, it’s been bad news after bad news, but we have some more bad news,” Hazel said. “Percy and Annabeth, you’re probably the ones who should explain.”

I really didn’t want to repeat my experience with the serpent, but I got out of my seat anyway and walked to the front of the audience with Annabeth.

Annabeth did most of the retelling. The only things I said were trying to defend myself from looking stupid.

After Annabeth finished, the Senate House was silent as a grave. Nobody jumped out of their seats and shouted, Great! We get to fight a massive serpent!

Frank cleared his throat. “So… we’re pretty sure that this serpent is causing the monster attacks. They’re getting more frequent and more deadly, which is what always happens with monster attacks. We’re dealing with enough already, so I didn’t tell you that one of our scouts spotted an army of monsters about twenty miles from the camp yesterday. They’re estimated to arrive tomorrow.”

The campers groaned. In the last few years, Camp Jupiter had endured dozens of attacks. Camp Jupiter was clinging on because of pure determination. I didn’t know how many more we could take.

A camper suddenly rushed in, out of breath. “Uh, sorry to interrupt your meeting, but… there’s a bunch of monsters outside.”

Campers stood up. Some of the Lares disappeared. Others screamed and still others jumped out of their chairs and ran around like mad.

A cannon shot echoed through the valley – perhaps from a siege tower. The building shook. Rubble rained on us. I bolted for the door.

Time seemed to have slowed down. The debris from the ceiling fell in slow motion. I was pretty sure that my muscles were running at full speed, but suddenly I felt like I was moving through syrup. A deep whisper echoed throughout camp: Come to me. Your precious little camp cannot keep you safe.

I hated that line. As I looked out the door, I saw the Midgard Serpent towering over Camp Jupiter.

Chapter 9

Godric

Time unfroze after the whisper. Wolves and campers clashed like nothing happened. I stood there, still frozen in shock.

A wolf snarled at me, jolting me back to the present. I slashed the wolf into many tiny pieces.

I hacked through several large groups of enemies, slashing left and right, smacking heads with the flat of my sword, making wolves go cross-eyed, and creating massive heaps of fur. The wolves were apparently slow learners, since they kept attacking me, hence growing the mounds of fur around me. All that fur could probably make a dozen coats.

Finally, the remaining dozen or so wolves apparently either got some sense in their head, or they got scared of the five-foot tall wall of fur surrounding me. They shuffled off down the tunnel, growling back at us.

Luckily, no camper was heavily injured. The worst anyone had were several scratches on their arms. But in a capture the flag game, there is no time no waste tending to wounds. The opposing team’s flag was within sight.

“Come on, everyone!” I yelled, pointing to the flag beyond the staircase. “The flag is right there!”

I bounded up the stairs two at a time and emerged next to Zeus’s fist.

“There they are!” an Ares camper shrieked. “Get ‘em!”

I lunged for the flag, using the wind to aid me. With the trap disabled, I didn’t have to worry about shards of metal being impaled in my back.

“Go!” I yelled to my team. I jumped to the ground and tore through the forest full speed. All I had to do was cross the boundary line, which was the creek.

Fifty feet away from the creek, I saw Clarisse about the same distance away from the boundary with our team’s flag.

“Get him!” Clarisse screamed. “Don’t let him get across!”

Clarisse obviously had no energy left. She tried to run the rest of the distance but tripped on a rock. I held back the urge to laugh.

I used the last of my strength to propel me over the creek. Clarisse had just gotten up, but it was too late. We had finally won. (I was too exhausted to put an exclamation point at the end of that sentence.)

I collapsed onto the ground. My teammates picked me up and carried me back to camp, chanting my name.

“Hold up!” I protested. “Hey, let me down!” Unfortunately, my voice was drowned out.

“Congrats, Godric.” Chiron smiled at me. “Your losing streak has come to an end.”

When the others finally let me down, I immediately found Sanderson and told him about the wolves and the serpent’s whisper in the Labyrinth.

“That,” Sanderson said. “Is not good.

I sighed. “When is it ever good?”

The conch horn sounded. It was time for dinner.

I thought I was the hungriest person at camp today until I looked at the Demeter table. However fast I ate, they ate faster.

Everyone lined up at the bronze brazier to offer a sacrifice to the gods, as we do every meal – the juiciest slice of beef, the ripest of the fruits. Unfortunately for me, the juiciest slice of beef and the ripest fruit are my first targets when eating. A few times, I accidentally ate the best parts of my meal. Maybe that’s why I’ve had such rotten luck.

After eating, Chiron pounded his hoof on the marble floor. The dining pavilion quieted down.

“Announcements!” Chiron called. “First, I congratulate the winning team in the capture the flag game.” I received several glares and perhaps silent vows of revenge from the Ares cabin. “Secondly, we will have to increase our border patrol at night. Monster attacks are getting more and more frequent and more and more deadly. Finally, we have found out that the Roman camp shares a similar problem about the monsters. They have figured out that a powerful serpent is controlling these monsters. However, we do not know –”

A party of around a dozen satyrs dashed out of the woods. A few satyrs were on stretchers, and a bloody, beat-up demigod (at least, I assumed he was a demigod) was in the middle of the group. Just a regular entrance for a new camper.

Everyone was staring at the new demigod. Most of them were probably wondering who his godly parent was.

Several Apollo campers immediately jumped up and took the satyrs on the stretchers to the infirmary. Chiron was talking to a satyr with a baseball bat on his shoulder, who was looking around as if he wanted to hit someone with his Louisville Slugger. I knew him as Gleeson Hedge AKA Coach Hedge AKA Coach.

“…then a pack of wolves attacked us,” Gleeson was saying to Chiron. “Well, you know what happened? I clobbered them all on the head and finished them off with a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick! The rest were so scared they fled!” He roundhouse kicked the air and swung his baseball bat, nearly hitting Chiron, as if reenacting the battle. Based on what I knew about him, he was definitely making up at least 99% of that story.

“Yeah, anyways, we got a new camper here.” Gleeson pointed at the new demigod. “His name is Hector. For now, his parentage is unknown.”

Chiron nodded and smiled grimly to Hector. “Hello, Hector. Come into the Big House. You’ll need to watch the, ah, orientation video.”

I spent the rest of the day in my cabin after dinner with the statue of hippie Zeus staring at me. The one time I didn’t have guard duty at night, I couldn’t go to sleep. Not that I minded much. Dreams for demigods were just horrible nightmares and visions predicting the fall of the world or a horrible death. (I say that a lot.)

The sun was about to dip below the hills when I heard a knock on my door. Sanderson’s head poked in.

“Hey, Godric,” Sanderson said. “Camp counselor meeting.”

I was glad for the excuse to avoid sleeping. I quickly changed clothes and slipped out the door.

“What’s up?” I asked. “Anything urgent?”

Sanderson shrugged. “Not necessarily urgent, but definitely important.” He looked at me. “We’ve been expecting this for a while.”

My heart sank. I already knew what was coming.

“Can you tell everyone that I need a moment alone?” I asked.

Sanderson nodded. He understood. I lagged behind.

I looked longingly at the hills where the sun was setting. I wondered whether this would be my last normal moment in my short life that was very likely about to end.

Everyone else was already around the Ping-Pong table. The Cheez Whiz crackers that were present at every meeting were set out.

Yeah, that’s right. We did our serious, depressing camp counselor meetings in the rec room.

Chiron looked utterly crestfallen when I came in. He looked at me sadly, but he tried to hide it. That only confirmed my suspicions.

“Ahem.” Chiron cleared his throat. “Camp Jupiter has discovered something about these monster attacks. A serpent is controlling the monsters. The attacks will only get worse. Scouts have seen a large assembly of monsters a few dozen miles from here.”

Connor Stoll, the head counselor for the Hermes cabin, leaned forward. “Okay. So what serpent, exactly? The Hydra?”

Chiron looked like the picture of sadness. “No. Something far worse.” The morale of the room was instantly decimated.

Nobody asked what “something far worse” meant. The topic was depressing enough. With more campers, new and old, coming to camp for the summer, we didn’t want to start with bad news. Camp Half-Blood was meant to be a safe haven for demigods, not a worry haven.

After a moment of silence, Chiron continued. “We’ll need a quest. Camp Jupiter reported that a prophecy asked for 7 campers in total, like the previous quest to defeat the giants. I hope that is a good omen. They will send 3 campers here.”

I already predicted the next line Chiron was going to say. I felt like I was being handed my death sentence.

“The prophecy mentioned something else,” Chiron said. He looked at me. “A son of Zeus must lead the quest.”

Home, Sports

All About Surfing

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by guest author Johnathan David

Surfing is a great way to have fun and relax. And, it is not bad for your body! Let’s start at the bottom using these basic questions: How do you surf, where to begin, and what surfboard is best for first-timers? 

How do you surf? First, paddle out to where the waves are crashing down. It’s always best to go with a buddy. If you have gone far enough out and see a good wave coming, lie flat on your board and paddle away from the wave as it comes within ten feet of the back of your surfboard. Once you catch the wave, the wave is going to try to throw you off the board. Keep your balance right after the catch and it will calm down quickly. 

Where to begin? There are two great places that I like to go surfing. I suggest Monterey, and San Diego! The waves are good for beginners in both of these destinations. Carmel Beach has baby waves and some bigger waves, which makes it an almost perfect beginning spot. Carmel is also extremely safe for younger people because it is not very deep and you can actually stand while you wait for a wave, and it is protected from most riptides because of seaweed that creates a wall of protection. Pacific Beach in San Diego, CA is a pretty good beach once you have the hang of surfing. Some waves are a bit big for beginners but most of them are pretty good for starting out. Private or group lessons are helpful. 

What board should you select for surfing? When you have never surfed before, foam is the best choice. Often, try renting a board. Later, when you are more advanced, you could invest in a fiberglass board, which breaks more easily but is made for tricks. 

I now have to go, but I hope I have satisfied all readers. Surfing is truly fabulous if you try it. 

Stories

Escape: Part Two

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by Layal Hilal

Maria

We’ve been here awhile. Like, a while. 

It’s been almost a month of living on this island, right smack dab in the middle of…somewhere. Nowhere. The ocean. Speaking of, we—me, Sally, and Sarah—sort-of-kind-of-maybe-I-don’t-know got rid of Michael’s pathetic fear of water. I mean, he can touch water now… which is good, because otherwise we wouldn’t be able to test out Sally’s flying-power thing, since we need to have Sally hold everyone as she flies and see how long she can hold it for, and we can’t do that if Michael can’t look at water without having a panic attack. 

On a slightly different note, we also got rid of my bracelet tracker. Well, we think we did. Turns out the thing is pretty much indestructible. Nothing breaks it. Not rocks, not sand, not sticks, not Sally’s dagger…and that’s pretty much all we have on this island. At least, that’s what we thought, until Sarah had the bright idea to use the sea water. So we dunked the bracelet underwater for almost half an hour. After time was up, my whole arm was numb, but it was worth it, because the blinking light that had been flashing nonstop before had turned off, and tiny little hairline cracks had appeared all over the tracker. So, we took that as a sign that it was broken. 

Of course, we’re not sure, but when you’ve been living on an island in the middle of the ocean after being captured by an evil person, kept in jail, forced to kill your friends, then killed the man who tried to make you kill your friends, then flew on Sally the Taxi halfway across the ocean and helped your best friend-boy overcome his fear of water, built crude teepees all over the island, survived off dates, coconuts, and purified salt water, and did that for a month, (so far), ‘pretty sure’ pretty much means: 10000% yes, absolutely, definitely, it worked, etc. So…it worked.

Plus, we’re not dead yet.

Isn’t that great?

Michael

Sometimes I think my friends want to torture me. What is it with them and the obsession with water? Well, Maria and Sally have sort of decent reasons, like I need to get used to water so we can be ready if Alinos attacks us, even though we got rid of the tracker, or that I’m going to be around water for at least 80% of the rest of my life, not including the fact that I’m partly made of water. But I think Sarah gives me ‘swim lessons’ just so she can see me writhe like a baby when she sticks my head underwater. I’ve already made so much progress in a month! I can look at water now, and I can touch it with my hand, and stick my toes in the ocean!

Victory, am I right?

I don’t know why they keep pressuring me to do more. Well, I guess they don’t know why I’m scared of water. They’ve definitely asked…but I can’t tell them. I won’t. It’s not the type of thing you share with lifelong best friends that you’ve been captured with, lived on an island with, or fought in an arena. Let alone telling Sally. At least I’ve known Maria and Sarah for most of my life. Sally, I’ve barely known her for a year, ever since the China adventure. 

Anyway, I was five years old…probably almost six. I had a babysitter, and she was nice. She always brought chocolates when she came to sit for me, and she never forgot to give me two dollars and a hug before she left. (Two dollars was a lot of money to me back then.) Then, one July, she took me to the pool. She stuck my head underwater and held it there. She tried to drown me. Well, not really. She did drown me. Except I didn’t die. She left me floating in the pool, my heart quiet and my brain numb. Then the next day, at 8:00 am sharp, I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and stared wonderingly at the poster of Spider-Man on my wall. With great power comes great responsibility.

At the time, I was sure that I had a superpower. Maybe two! I had breathed underwater and then teleported back to my room. I was a superhero! So the next time when the babysitter came to sit for me, instead of telling on her, I ignored the shocked look on her face and pretended like nothing happened. I don’t know if I was actually consciously aware that no one would believe me, or maybe I just wanted to see what would happen. Well, she tried to drown me again that day, probably thinking that I had short-term memory loss or something, left me in the pool…and the next day, I was back in my room. After that, I was sure that I had superpowers. And at first, it was fun to keep dying, then keep on coming back to life. But by the time I was ten, I would have nightmares every night about death, water, and even sixteen year old girls. And twice a week, like clockwork, I would die. And live. I don’t know why the sitter wanted me dead, or why I could breathe underwater and teleport and die-not-die, or why she didn’t stop sitting for me, or why she wasn’t scared that I could tell on her. 

All I know is that I didn’t tell anyone. No one would believe me. So, for seven whole years, I died 112 times. Or…something like that. Until I was twelve years old, when I was old enough to be at home alone. And I never touched water again.

“Michael!” Sarah screams, drawing me out of my depressing past and halting the tiny tears pooling in my eyes.

“Sarah?” I say. What now?

Sarah

Cliff. Cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff cliff—Falling falling falling falling falling falling falling falling—Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria Maria—Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow…my back. My arms. My legs. My back. My butt. Ow.

“Michael!” I scream. “Sally!” Primal scream time. I take a deep breath. “MARIA!!!!!!”

Here is my current predicament: 

I am hanging off a tree growing out of a cliff side, my arms and legs and parachute tangled in its branches, and a cracking sound is emitting from the branch keeping my body from plunging to its death.

Here is my previous predicament:

Maria took me to the top of a ‘mountain’ on this lovely island to ‘gather feathers’. I stood on a cliff, picking up giant eagle feathers, when Maria shoved something onto my back, said, “pull the cord”, and shoved me off the cliff. I fell. I didn’t scream, because my brain wasn’t working, but as I saw a whole lot of sand getting closer and closer to my face, the gears started churning and I pulled a tiny little string dangling over my shoulder. Correction: tried to. It was jammed. So as my stomach stuck itself to my throat, and the cold air slapped my face as punishment for doing nothing, and the choppy blue water and pale beige sand grew more and more detailed, and I flailed in midair, doing somersaults and tuck-and-rolls, I pulled on the tiny string with all my might, twisted myself into a yoga-master pose, muttered, “come on, you stupid thing”, slapped my back (the parachute bag was on my back) against the rocky cliff, and…my stomach fell out of my throat and settled in comfortably next to my feet as I became conveniently tangled in a weird tree. And then I tried not to throw up.

So…yeah.

I patiently wait for my friends to come save me as I close my eyes and pray to God that I don’t die today. Not like this. Right on time, Michael’s head appears at the top of the cliff.

“Sarah?!” He exclaims.

“Hi,” I respond. “Help.”

A few minutes later, Michael ‘rappels’ down the cliff and helps me climb back up as I scream at him to not say anything to me. When I’m safe and alive and injured but not dead, I say, “thanks”, and then walk off to go kill Maria.

Sally 

Naps are nice.

You have all these fun dreams that will never come to fruition, and you have all these nightmares that will. Better than real life, though. At present, I’ve just woken up from a weirdly nice dream about being eaten by a shark. I’ve been having weird dreams like that ever since we arrived here. 

Just last night, I dreamt that elves came from Mars and sentenced us to a sad life inside a black hole, then gave us all mind reading powers and trapped us in the underworld with Persephone as our jailer, and then Percy Jackson came to save us but turned out to secretly be Luke…Skywalker and used his lightsaber to turn us into steak with a side of mashed potatoes, which was a mushed Persephone, and then he force-fed us M&M cookies until we exploded and showered earth in chocolate and peanut butter and peanuts and food coloring.

If only I had my books, I could probably decode that dream into something sort of reasonable, like the end of the world is in 53 minutes and 21 seconds. 

“Hello.”

I close my eyes tighter. Stupid dreams, making me think stupid things about stupid people. 

“Sally. Hello?”

Annoying dreams. Stop it. I squeeze my eyes tighter.

“Sally!” 

A sharp pressure is applied to my neck, and I gasp and open my eyes. 

“There we go.”

Alinos

Kids. Sweet kids. Sweet kids who are scared of family and water and heights and dreams…and me. Sweet, sweet kids.

I apply a tiny bit more pressure to the girl’s neck, causing her veins to pulse and her forehead to throb and her breath to come out in short, quick bursts. A little more…and…

“S-Stop! P-p-please…” she begs. “M-my dreams t-told me—agh!” My fingers begin to turn purple, just like her skin.

Dreams, huh? So this is Sally. The dream one.

“I think not, Sally,” I cackle. I can feel the strength of Sally’s muscles. Stronger than anyone knows, I would think. Luckily, I’m stronger.

Crack!

One down, three to go.

Maria (Five (Or so) minutes earlier)

This has been an eventful day. Sarah got thrown off a cliff by me, Michael saved her, Sally had a dream about being eaten by a shark…that’s more action than we usually—

Maria! Come down to the beach, now! Sally mentally sends.

What’s wrong? I shoot back.

Alinos—

Before Sally’s even finishes her transmission, I’m running towards the beach. By the time she’s finished, I’m there. Alinos is choking her, his fingers locked around her neck. Her eyes stare at me through the bush I’m hiding behind. 

Maria, I’m a Seer. That’s her last transmission. Then Alinos tightens his grip and she’s gone.

I press a hand to my mouth, staring. Sally…she’s dead. She’s gone. She’s cold and unmoving and silent and…a Seer. Sally’s a Seer! I gasp inaudibly.

So, Michael’s a Teleporter and an Illusionist. He can teleport places and create illusions of things that aren’t actually there.

Sarah’s a Memoir. She holds other people’s memories. Certain people, only those who she’s close with.

Sally is—was—a Seer and a Levitator. She can tell the future based on her dreams and she can make herself and other things fly.

And me…I’m a Telepath. I can hear other people’s thoughts when I choose to, and other people can ‘transmit’ thoughts to me if they want. I can communicate back.

So…it’s us. Sally was right. We’re the ones the prophecy was talking about. With a few extra powers, yes, but it’s us. Thirty-one days. An ocean of tears. A death unexpected…it’s us.

Thirty-one days, an ocean of tears, a cage which held those who you hold dear. An accursed devil, a death not expected, throughout the fabric of time, you have been connected. The chosen four must unite together, different powers each will possess. One who sees the future in dreams, her destiny is not a guess, and she hovers over the world, protecting slaves wishing to be sold. One who moves from place to place at the speed of light (and changes reality). One who reads thoughts, they’re always right. And one who holds other’s lives near her heart, other people’s pasts, from her, they won’t be apart. On the thirty-first day of isolation, the four must rise and from desperation, they must allow their hearts to soar above the sea, they must find the mainland, and then they will be free.

I stare at Sally’s limp body on the shore, Alinos smiling cruelly at her form. My mind connects with Sarah and Michael’s, and they’re together, walking along the beach. Thank god. Sarah scans the shore.

No sign of Maria, she thinks.

Hang on…where’s Sally? Michael wonders.

Sally’s gone, Michael. It’s up to us now. We have to fulfill the prophecy. It’s not a choice. Me, Michael, Sarah, Alinos. We’re all a part of the prophecy, we’re all on the same island, we’re all alive. We have to stop Alinos. At the very least, we have to trap him here. It’s the only choice. Come on, Universe. Help us out here.

I shudder. A sob slips through my lips. And I mourn. For Sally…and for us.

Okay! So, that’s that. No, the story’s not over. Because…you’re going to finish it. Edit it, change it, fix it, improve it, whatever you want. To be honest, I couldn’t think of a satisfactory ending for this story. I hope you can, though!

3…2…1, write!

News, Student Life

TVE Promotion & Graduation Ceremony 2024

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by Olive Pea & Lydia I. Martinov

This year’s Graduation and Promotion ceremony was fantastic. We had many promotions, and 5 seniors! It took place at the San Ramon Community Center in the elegant fountain room. A green patch of Central Park, and the Community Center fountains, were visible through the windows. The crescent shape of the room provided great acoustics. There were numerous rows of seats with an aisle for the walk that ran straight through the center of the floor. The stage was large with a screen for the projector, and the back wall of the stage was illuminated by bright, colorful lights. In the back of the room was a snack table with various cookies, delectable muffins, and palatable drinks.

Some people arrived early to set up at 1:45. An hour later, our awesome graduates arrived to rehearse their walk. At 3:30 the doors opened, and families and friends entered the room and took their seats. Lovely classical music played in the background. Once everybody was seated, the music changed, and the graduates walked down the aisle, and sat down in their assigned seats. The sound of conversations echoed through the room.

Once everybody was seated, the promotees and graduates walked gracefully down the aisle to lovely graduation-worthy music. Then, each of the kindergarteners received their certificates. The 2nd and 3rd 5th graders were next. Before the middle school graduates received their certificates, 2 wonderful musical performances took place. First was Meru S., who played Fantaisie Pastorale Hongroise, Op. 26, Mvt .I. on the flute. After her was Olivia P., who played Consolation No. 3 in D Flat., S. 172 by Franz Liszt on the piano. Both performances set a tranquil tone to the atmosphere of the room. Once the 8th graders’ performances were finished, the middle schoolers received their certificates and were promoted to high school. Seniors Amelie and Isabella sang “For Good” from their favorite musical: Wicked. The audience adored their delightful performance. Finally, the high schoolers’ graduation began. Each graduate’s slide show took the audience through their school journey with a montage of childhood photos. Their parents each said a heartfelt speech to their grown-up children, and many sentimental tears were shed. At 4:50, the turn of the tassel began. The graduates turned the tassels on their hats from the right to the left with smiles on their faces. They threw the hats in the air, and officially ended the first chapter of their stories.

Here are the amazing graduates and promotions:

Kindergarten:

Spencer C.

Kaylee R.

2nd:

Summer A.

Mila M.

3rd:

Skye C.

5th:

Amber A.

August G.

Jacob P.

Evan S.

8th:

Olivia P.

Meru S.

Yeshua P.

Camden S.

And finally, our wonderful seniors:

Amelia D.

Isabella D.

Pierce E.

Miles P.

Elizabeth S.

The Lighthouse gives a special thank you to our TVE leaders and volunteers for making this event happen, as well as the promotees and seniors in attendance! A special congratulations for the special seniors, we hope that the closing of this chapter in your lives is followed by many exciting and wonderful adventures.

Arts and Culture, Stories

Za’atar Bread – An award-winning short story

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by Aleena Haimor

I miss peace. And I’ll never stop saying that, no matter what anyone says.

I miss laying in the sun on the weekends when we went to Beirut to cool off in the
Mediterranean sea. I miss eating chicken shawarma at the restaurant next to the beach, eating and laughing. I miss my old life. But I don’t think that it will ever be the same. Not in my lifetime.
Immi, my mother, comes in and sits on my bed. Ever since the war broke out in my small
village in Lubnan, or Lebanon, we’ve been scared to death. The fact that we’ve lost Bayi, my
father, and Basma, my older and only sister, doesn’t help. It’s been two years of pain and
hardship for me and Immi. We’ve suffered alone.
“Are you ok, Danya, habibti?” Immi asks, jerking me out of my thoughts. I nod slowly
and swallow the lump rising in my throat.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say softly. It’s been just the two of us for so long; we’ve gotten to
know each other better than ever. My mother looks at me, unconvinced. I knew she would see
through the lie.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Immi shakes her head and kisses mine. I wrap my arms around her. We sit there for a
while, embracing, both of us wishing in our heads that we could live in a place where bombs
don’t fall. A place where no one ever fought. A place where we could be free. But we also don’t want to leave our home. If we die, we will be martyrs. Immi knows that. I know that. My father
and sister knew that. Lubnan is our country and no one can make us leave.
Immi sighs. “I was thinking that we could plant an olive tree to show that we are proud to
be the daughters of Lubnan. That we aren’t afraid.”
I shake my head. Immi knows that all we ever do is cower in fear and dread, although we
both try to contradict ourselves by saying that we’re not afraid. It never works. We always end
up even more scared when we hear another bomb falling on neighboring villages.
“Come on, let’s make something. Maybe it will help us feel better.”
I know Immi won’t give up on trying to help me, so I nod. We both get up and walk
across the hall to our kitchen. It’s a classic Lubnani style, with stone walls and wooden counters.
I see a container of za’atar spice on the counter, and I know what we should make.
“Can we make za’atar bread?”
“Sure,” Immi smiles. She grabs our saj, a dome-shaped pan used for pita and za’atar
bread, and places it dome-side-up on one of the stoves, turning the heat on as well as drizzling
olive oil across it so that the bread won’t stick. I grab flour, salt, sugar, yeast, corn oil and of
course, more olive oil for the dough. I place them all on the counter, then go grab the za’atar. I
also put a pot of water on the free stove and warm it.
Immi has started mixing all of the ingredients together in a big metal bowl, plus the warm
water I brought. She leaves the za’atar on the counter and doesn’t add it yet. She uses her hands
to knead and combine all of the ingredients in the classic Arab fashion. I add two cups of za’atar
into the dough.
“Can I try kneading?”
“Yes.”

Immi takes her sticky hands out of the bowl and goes to wash them. I put mine in and
squish the goop between my fingers. The soft dough makes me squirm for a second, but also
feels kind of nice on my hands. I incorporate the za’atar in, making sure it’s evenly combined.
Slowly, the dough becomes more and more tacky and I know it’s done.
“Immi! I’m finished!”
Immi comes back and I take a ball of dough in my hands. I roll the ball in between my
hands and throw it up in the air, just like I saw Immi and Basma do the million times they have
made za’atar bread. My throw is misplaced and I barely catch the dough before it falls on
the cold granite floor.
“Maybe I should throw it?”
“Good idea.”
Immi laughs and takes the dough out of my hands. She tosses and tosses it and tosses it
some more until it’s a big, flat circle. She drapes it onto the saj. A wonderful aroma fills the room
as Immi flips the bread. The sizzles coming from the saj make my mouth water.
Immi flips it again, this time onto a plate. I go to the fridge, realizing we still have extra
labneh, or yogurt, from last night. We always make anything that needs to be kept cold in small
batches since the power could go out at any time, spoiling the food in the fridge. I’m surprised
we have any labneh left, but we do. I grab the labneh and set it on the dining room table.
Immi has cut the za’atar into triangles and sets it on the table. We each take a piece,
scoop up some labneh with it, and take a bite.
The sour/savory bread instantly transports me to the time Basma and I were making it
together. Bayi and Immi were watching the news, back when we had a TV, and Basma wanted to
do something. I still remember laughing as she kneaded and fried the bread. I would run back and forth for ingredients. The bread was lumpy and ugly when we finished, but turned out to be
the best-tasting batch that we’ve ever made.
The memory makes me smile. I miss Basma and Bayi, but I’ve got to be strong. It turns
out that food can go a long way in helping you forget your worries. Back then, I had Basma to
make it with me most of the time. Now, Mama does. Back then, I had Bayi to plant with my
plants (I enjoy gardening just like he did). Now, I know that Mama and I will plant that olive
tree.

We will defy.

And it’s all because of the memory that came with the bread and the labneh. I smile at my
mom. I feel so much better now. Not completely, but close enough.

Who knew that za’atar could be so…healing?

News, Student Life

Kids Against Hunger – Let’s eradicate childhood hunger

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by Ava Amara Salado

A non-profit humanitarian group called Kids Against Hunger works to feed underprivileged children and families locally and globally by providing them with wholesome meals. The group wants the meals to give recipient families a reliable nutritional foundation so they may transition from hunger or food insecurity to self-sufficiency.

Photo by the KAH website


The organization’s strategy for attaining its objective of ending world hunger entails having volunteers package highly nutrient-dense, vitamin-fortified meals at various locations in the United States and Canada. These meals are then distributed to starving children and their families in 70 countries by means of partnerships with international humanitarian organizations.

In order to fulfill the never-ending demand for food, Kids Against Hunger’s objective demands a large food packing capacity. This approach builds connections with organizations, schools, communities, and several faith-based groups of vast denominations while empowering individuals to understand they can contribute to the global effort to end famine. Additionally, by using this expansion model, the group is able to increase volunteerism and food packing capacity over time. Millions of meals have been given to children and their families in many, many countries since the founding of Kids Against Hunger. Hundreds and thousands of volunteers’ labor have been harnessed for good.

Photo by the KAH website

Recently, a group of TVE kids and families got the opportunity to go to the Pleasanton location and pack meals. It was a great learning experience for everybody. We started by sanitizing our hands and then entered the large warehouse where we got into groups of 10. We only worked for about an hour and a half and surprisingly packed 6,264 individual meals. It was so successful because of the organization accomplished by the assembly line. It was extremely impressive and motivating, we were all so very proud of the work we had done. This is a testament to the work of the foundation. Kids from five years old to grandparents can come together and work as a community to do something for the greater good, it felt so great to make a difference and share this experience with friends in our homeschool group. This could be you! At the bottom of the page there is more information on how you can set up an event for your own friend group or family.

Photo by the KAH website


According to predictions from the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization, in 2021, one in nine people on the planet—roughly 821 million people—would be hungry, and one in three will be suffering from malnutrition.

A child dies from starvation and associated causes every ten seconds, or around 16,000 each day.

In the US, 16.2 million children under the age of 18 reside in homes where they do not regularly have access to the sufficient amounts of nutrient-rich food needed for a healthy existence.

Richard Proudfit traveled to Honduras in 1974 as a volunteer after the nation was devastated by a hurricane. He was deeply impacted by the famine he witnessed among the children in that nation and consciously chose to dedicate his life and financial resources to addressing the massive issue of world hunger.

Making use of his experience in production and distribution, Mr. Proudfit asked his business partners for assistance. Leading food experts were consulted in order to create a very nutritious meal that is rich in protein and enhanced with vitamins and minerals. When this meal is cooked with water, it can adequately feed hungry children in need. His unceasing efforts to cultivate relationships have yielded a global network of organizations capable of effectively distributing food even under the most challenging circumstances.

With the Kids Against Hunger network, Richard Proudfit’s legacy of eradicating world hunger continues to this day.

The volunteers that package the food for a large number of children, in addition to the physical food packing process, makes them happy and deeply involved with a sense of pride and responsibility. This is a perfect group activity for schools or children’s groups of any kind, to teach the younger generation in the United States about the global food crisis is very important not only for the now, but for the future as well.

Because they are a volunteer-driven organization, there are many ways to help. One way is to simply make a monetary contribution, and the other is to volunteer your time or resources. Some of their needs are great, some are much smaller or easier to fulfill, but every single one of them is needed for them to continue their fight against world hunger.

To meet the demands of current conditions (1 billion in our world are severely malnourished) they are looking to build a team of committed volunteers who can go out and harness as many resources as possible. If you are interested in any one of these positions, would like to volunteer at an event, or would like to host an event, please contact the Event Manager, Sherri Leal of the local Pleasanton location at (925) 400-7201 or email her at sherri@KAHBayArea.org.

There are also many other locations, click here to enquire and find which best suits you!

It is up to us to end the crisis. What will you do for the future?

Photo of TVE families volunteering. Taken by Sherri Leal