15 Seconds
There are 86,400 seconds in a day, so mathematically 15 seconds shouldn’t be enough to ruin a person's whole day. Although it is, being White, Black, Hispanic, Asian it doesn't matter, well to me at least. To others, I’m not so sure.
I got up like any other day in the summer, waking up around noon, making plans with friends. I checked my phone to see a text, “wtw” from my friend Gary. I texted Gary back “you wanna play soccer at lane around 2?” Gary agreed, so I hopped in the shower and started getting ready to go play soccer.
Once I had gotten to Lane Tech with my brother and Gary, we were having a ton of fun. We were doing soccer drills and training. At the time, all of us were planning to try out for the Chicago City team. As we got tired, we started playing games like back of the net and the loser had to let the others shoot the soccer ball at them from the penalty line. Of course, I ended up losing, but being teenage boys they did not listen to the rules of the game. I heard them hit the ball but not hard. It was as if they were dribbling it, then I heard running. At that moment I knew they were coming closer so that they could hit me, I turned around and I was right. At that moment it was too late, I felt a great pain. With my luck, the ball had hit me right “under the belt.” I remember laying on the floor for what seemed like forever, lying dead. Then they offered to buy me McDonald’s from across the street.
After all was said and done, I ate 2 McChickens and a few cookies, and my brother left. Gary and I decided to go to Hamlin Park. We were listening to music walking down Addison, the air smelled of fast food. I turned my head left to talk to Gary and I saw a cop car. My attention started to focus on the car as I saw it was starting to slow down. The car came to a complete stop right next to us. There was no light, no stop sign, no traffic, no reason to stop. At this point, Gary and I had stopped walking. We were just looking at them, and they were looking right back at us. It felt as if they were watching us, staring us down. I remember staring straight back. This lasted for about 15 seconds before they slowly drove away.
I remember staring straight back and showing no emotion, or that’s what I thought I looked like. After they drove away, we were quiet for about 10 seconds. Then Gary broke the silence. He looked at me, “You good?” This is what makes me unsure of how I looked that day. I want to believe that I gave a glare right back, but Gary asking this made me think I must’ve had fear in my eyes. “Yeah, I’m good,” I responded. After that, we didn’t speak of it, but it hadn’t even phased Gary. After it happened he didn’t give it a second thought, as if this was a normal thing.
Learning the Ways of the Bike
By: Nikhil Engel
It was a bright and sunny day. I was winding up and down the pavement, amazed at my new sense of balance. I could hear the wind flapping against my ears as sweat beaded down my forehead. “Go, you can do it!” they shouted which pushed me further and further. While I was riding I thought about the years behind me and how long it had taken.
I got my bike on a cold winter day known to most as Christmas. About three months later my aunt traveled to Chicago to teach me the ways of the bike. My mother began to pressure me into riding a bike and once I finally agreed, I was taken up to a big hill and let go of. Most times I would fall, others I would tumble; it was a grueling cycle. A month went on and I began to get progressively better and better until I was at a point where I could stay upright as long as I wasn’t going too fast. I screamed, “Ahhhhhhhhh!” I asked myself, “Why am I putting myself through this?”
My aunt had to return home and I waved my goodbyes. I thought of how when she came back I would be able to dominate the hill with ease. As the days passed and my aunt's return came closer, my mother never wanted to take me to the hill because she said she couldn’t do it on her own. Two months later when my aunt returned to Chicago, I was even worse than the first time. My aunt took me back up the hill, let go and I barely could hold on to the bike and ended up falling off. My aunt asked me, “Why haven't you gotten any better.”
Finally my mom agreed to start helping. We concentrated on working on my balance by trying on a flat surface. Although I struggled at first, I began to balance myself bit by bit. We went back to the hill where I had first started and I could ride almost to the bottom until I slowed down and I would fall off. I went back to thinking, “What was the point? I’m never going to get any better.”
I started learning speed again because my main problem with balancing was that I did not have enough of it. My aunt and my mom taught me how to peddle my bike faster while maintaining my balance. I could get to the bottom of the hill now and ride about ten feet but that wasn’t enough for me. So I kept trying and when my aunt came back two weeks later, I rode down the hill full speed and maintained my balance as I could hear them cheering me on behind me. I pushed aside those past thoughts and kept on peddling. Now, I’m 13 wondering where this journey will take me.
The Last Day of Normal
By: Maddy Freda
Two weeks. Two weeks was the time they said we would stay home. I remember thinking how fun this would be, being at home doing whatever I wanted. Not having to wake up for school every morning and walk out the door. Not knowing that those two weeks of freedom would turn into more than a year where everything around me would change. It was Friday and everyone was getting ready for the weekend. We had all heard the news that Covid-19 was affecting the U.S.
There had been gossip going around that we were going to leave school for a while but nothing was certain. Everyone had questions, but there were no answers to be found. None of us knew what was going to happen. In every class we traveled to, I could feel a tension in the air. Something about our situation would come up and questions would erupt. I knew the teachers were avoiding the truth to make us not worry. We were told by some, “Nothing will change and we will go back to school like normal the next Monday”, but others were very uncertain and confused. This was a new thing for all of us. Half of the grade was supposed to go to the Indiana Dunes the next week. The trip had been canceled once before because of the CPS teacher strike and the odds of us going now were very slim. It was another thing that we were all disappointed about and what made this day very memorable.
We did everything as normal, went to lunch, had recess, did work and assignments in every class. I treated this as a normal day, which I now very much regret. It would be the last full day of what I now see as a normal day at school, with no restrictions, no masks, no constant worry. I remember walking home from school with my little sister, she was complaining about how heavy her backpack was. I asked, “why?” She told me that all of her teachers had made her empty her desk and bring everything home. Again I asked, “why?”
“ I don’t know,” she said, “ The teacher didn't tell us”.
“ Wait, really,” I said. “I didn't take anything.”
As we kept walking, we bickered about who was given the right information. Were we going to stay home or would we come back to school like normal? This conversation got me thinking. It made me worry about things that some of the adults around me assured me wouldn't happen.
It was now the weekend. My family and I were debating going to a Saint Patrick’s Day party in the suburbs. We were watching the news carefully and hesitantly decided to go. The school hadn't really given us any details other than the fact that there was a possible chance that we would be staying home from school for the next 2 weeks. When we got to the party, the new idea of Covid and it affecting us was the main topic of conversation. My second cousins lived in a different part of Illinois and they had some answers. We were all saying how long we would be out of school. Some said, “2 weeks”, some said “3”, but when the talk of 4 weeks came up my stomach dropped. It started to sink in. I stood there for a second. I could feel only the thousands of thoughts zooming into my brain. I could hear the loud banter of my mom and aunts trying to decide what shade of white paint would go with a new sectional.
The loud screaming of all the little kids around me faded. For the rest of the time we were there, my mood had shifted. I was now exposed to so many different opinions and possibilities. I felt overwhelmed.
This would be the last time I would be seeing some of these people for a long time, and I spent it distant from everyone, stuck in a bubble of confusing thoughts and fear.
It was time to leave and we all headed to the door,
“See you soon, ” my grammy said as she hugged me.
“Have a fun break,” my grandpa jokingly chimed in as he embraced me too.
I said goodbye to all of my little cousins, two of them babies not able to walk yet.
Not knowing that the next time I would hug them, they would be walking talking humans.
Even though nobody at that party had a clue about what was going to happen, I still can remember it as a day of lies. There would be no seeing each other soon. The break that we would have to have would be anything but fun.
Driving home we got the news. CPS would officially be going on lockdown. An estimated 2 weeks home was ordered. Although I knew this news was coming, I still felt a sense of shock and disbelief. The email sent to all of the families stated that students could either come in to school all day on Monday or come in quickly in the morning and grab all of the supplies necessary for the online school that would take place during the break. The 40-minute car ride back to the city consisted of my parents trying to decide what we would do the following day.
Although it seemed before that they weren't worried about this, now that we were staying home for certain I could hear them more worried about our safety and using those factors to make the right decision. They decided that I and my sister would both go to school tomorrow all day, which scared me. Just the thought of going to school the next day with all of the new information I knew made me queasy, and the gross mystery stench that was constantly coming in and out of the car wasn't helping.
The next day rolled around and my mom had changed her mind. She had been talking with all of the moms and decided that I didn't need to go in for the whole day. She didn't really explain why but I listened anyway. I didn't go to school right at 8:30. I waited till about 10. It felt weird walking in again. I could feel the same tension in the air.
The fumes of Lysol and hand sanitizer were now overwhelmingly present. I first went to my homeroom and gathered all of my things out of my desk. Then I walked over to my ELA and Social Studies classes and was given worksheets and a schedule of what we were going to do. Walking out of school with the many books and papers in hand, I would have never guessed that I wouldn't be back in this place for over a year. Although school wasn’t something that I necessarily looked forward to every day, that sense of normal has been taken away from me. Something that I would not only cherish but hold so close to my heart because taking normal for granted is now regretted the most.
St. Leonard’s Class of 2014
By: Nicholas Garcia
The initial start of my schooling education was in a Catholic school named St.Leonard in Berwyn, IL. The school was close to my mom’s work, but it was an hour away from home. This school holds a special place in my heart.
The day was June 3rd, 2014. I woke up bright and early at about 5:30 a.m. I could not contain my excitement, so I ran to my parent’s room and leaped onto the bed, but I got no reaction. All of a sudden, I felt them pull me into a bear hug between them. They were already awake and excited, like me, to start our day. Like clockwork, we all started to get ready for my big day. Mom started to make my favorites for breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes, sausage, and hash browns. In the meantime, Dad helped me to get ready. Nobody wanted to be late for graduation. After breakfast, we all got ready, and Mom made sure to fix my tie, hair and put on some smell-good stuff, as I referred to my Dad’s cologne. It didn’t take long to get ready, because as usual, Mom prepared the day before to ensure no delays occurred. We were now prepared to hit the road. The ceremony was scheduled for 8:30 a.m.
It was a sunny day in Chicago. Our eighteen-mile drive through the west side of Chicago was a smooth ride. Dad had the radio playing old-school tunes while mom called my aunties and grandparents to ensure they made it on time. Once we arrived at the school, I saw my friends lining up. We were definitely on time and even early for our graduation ceremony. I got out of the car, said goodbye to my parents, and lined up outside the south entrance. Some of my classmates were already dressed up and excited to start our ceremony. Some of us were laughing, talking, and making jokes to pass the time. Someone asked me, “So Nick, what are you going to do for summer vacation?” I replied, “I don’t know what, but my parents said it was going to be fun and memorable!”
The first bell finally rang. Our teacher, Ms. Brady, came to pick us up. The rest of the class had arrived a bit later and lined up. Once the second bell rang, we went inside the school to our classroom. Down in the multipurpose room, I saw that it was decorated, and there were rows of empty seats. When we arrived to the classroom, our names on our lockers were missing. Even though we did not need our lockers because we did not have our bookbags, it was still a mystery why the teacher took them down now.
Once inside, we sat down at our desks. I was ready for the big event but was not expecting to start it in the classroom. After the morning announcements and the Pledge of Allegiance, Ms. Brady gave a short speech about how proud she was and for us to continue being star students. The class was shouting and cheering. Then we started to head out, and I could not believe it. Everyone was there: my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncle, friends, families, teachers, and principal. They had just made this day even better.
Our ceremony began on time and in order as practiced. Father Roger started with the traditional prayer. Everyone sat down in their seats, and Principal Cash welcomed everyone to St. Leonard’s Class of 2014 Kindergarten Graduation Ceremony. Everyone started to cheer and clap very loud. Soon after that, Ms.Cash moved on, telling us of our outstanding accomplishments this year. After that, we started telling funny but proper lessons we learned in kindergarten. Lessons that we would use for the rest of our lives. One by one, we each said our lesson. When it was my turn, I said, “Remember to wash your ears.” The audience laughed and cheered. After that, we got up from our seats and started to sing, ”He’s got the whole world in his hands,” a short song about the Lord Jesus and Mother Earth. Now it was time for the final ceremony when we would receive our diplomas. We were again called one by one, but this time instead of going back to our chairs, we would sit down in front of the stage while we waited for the others to receive their diplomas. I could see my entire family's faces. Some cheering for me, clapping, and some with happy tears in their eyes.
After everyone had received their diplomas, Principal Cash presented a slideshow of everyone’s memories of the entire kindergarten year. It was a fantastic slideshow because it contained beautiful memories. We all were happy with what we had done. The ceremony was finished, but it was not time to go yet. We still had to take pictures to treasure this moment. We took lots of pictures of me with my family, classmates, and their families.
We left school and went to the Botanic Garden in Glencoe to take some more beautiful pictures. It was just a wonderful place. The colors were so vivid, with bright green landscapes and the smell of tropical flowers. Afterward, we headed out to my favorite restaurant, “The Cheesecake Factory,” at Old Orchard. It was fantastic that my entire family was waiting for me with decorations, gifts, and special treats. It was delicious.
Once we got home. We went to the backyard to continue the celebration, but we celebrated with a birthday cake this time. This day was not only special for me, but it was also my grandfather’s birthday. In fact, my family informed me that June 03 happened to be a fantastic day for each of my aunties and mom. It landed on their graduation from Highschool, Elementary school, and University graduation in different years but always on June 03. So my
Grandfather used to share his birthday with family members and their special day. Oddly, my little cousin Danny was born on 06 02, 2020, missing it by one day.
My grandfather means the world to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better day. As I refer to him, My Tata told me, “I am proud of you and want you to be sure to dream BIG and value the essential things in life. La Familia, La Educacion, y Dios- The Family, Education, and God.” Amen!
A week later, after my Graduation Ceremony, my family surprised me by taking us on a beautiful vacation outside of Chicago, but that’s another story for another time.
Miles
By: Avra Raman
My dad once said, “I like big dogs better than small dogs because big dogs have lots of personality and character, while little dogs lack it. Also, little dogs aren't as loving.” Boy, was he wrong! And Miles was the one who proved it.
Miles was an impossible dog from the start. Our family was never supposed to have a dog because we were all allergic. The results of time with dogs were congestion, headaches and rashes occasionally. You could taste bitterness in your mouth from phlegm. But no one was as allergic to dogs as my mom. She was so allergic that even being in a dog’s house would trigger her allergies, even if she didn’t pet the dog. But Miles was hypoallergenic, so my mom and dad decided we would take him home and hope for the best.
In our short time together, Miles and I had some special moments.
I remember the time Miles came back from a walk in the snow, and he had ice frozen to the fur on his stomach and chest, snow in his fur, and an icicle beard. He was so cold that he was shaking and shivering, and icy to the touch. He ran into my arms, and I wrapped him in a cozy blanket. We sat over the heater as I cradled him, his eyes slowly closing as he fell asleep, warm in my arms. The remnants of his frigid experience had been melted by my love, and maybe the blanket too. That was the first time I knew he really needed me.
On school days, Miles would stay with me in the family room. He would lay in my lap, his paws in the air and his belly up as my teacher droned on and on about things I could have cared less about. All I cared about was Miles. I breathed in his puppy smell as much as I could, trying to make the moment last forever. I would give him belly rubs, and he would fall asleep, his heat warming me on the outside and his heart warming me on the inside.
Another time, I took him out into the backyard so he could go to the bathroom. It was late at night. The sky was painted dark pinks and deep purples, swirling together with a smattering of white stars, pinpricks of light. There was a full moon in the sky, emitting a soft glow. The wind softly whooshed past my ears. Miles went and stood on a pile of snow, his nose tilted up towards the moon. A breeze ruffled and tousled his fur, making it shine and gleam. He looked at the moon, then looked softly at me. In that moment, the stars became brighter, the sky more vivid, the breeze cooler. It seemed like a dream. Then at once it was over. Everything returned to normal. The moment had passed. I hadn’t had a moment like this before. It was something special, something only Miles could give me. In return I tried to give him the best love and care I could possibly give him.
Eventually it became clear, we would have to give him away. We selected a house for him carefully, somewhere with another dog and a big family, somewhere close to us. We introduced him to the family by letting him spend some days there. His new life was probably better than the life he had with us. But when all was said and done and it was time to give him away, my heart still hurt and longed for him, despite my morals. I often thought about what memories I could’ve had with him if he had stayed with us, what memories I had missed the chance to create. I thought about what more I could have done for him, the times I could have played with him more, the times I would give everything for now. Even though Miles had a better life with the Wellers, I still wanted him to be with me. This inner struggle was a tough one, because he was my baby. He was the puppy I had raised, the puppy that had given me so much, the puppy I had given so much to. He was my puppy.
I was lucky enough to be there for his firsts. first treat, first walk, first time being trained. He also gave me so many firsts; first small dog, first time giving a dog a bath, first time doing remote school with a dog. Unfortunately, some of those firsts were also lasts. But you know what? I would rather have struggled through the heartbreak a thousand times than to have never had Miles in my life. He was someone truly special, spunky, and loving.
At the end of the very bumpy road, I found this; I may never see his lasts, and that is ok. But the firsts we had together will always live on in my head and my heart.