By Chelsey Valentin
cvalentin2@student.uniondaleschools.org

I was five years old when my whole world crumbled and changed forever. The memories are blurry, but I recall that the sun's warmth had begun to sting my skin. I found relief under a large tree.   I started picking flowers in my backyard and dreamed of what my mom would make for lunch. I was five. I was happy and had no worries to contend with during my day. That changed when I saw my mom running towards me, her face painted with fear. The ground began to shake violently. My mom scooped me into her arms and ran towards our home. Everything shook–the ground, the house, the trees outside, and me. Glass shattered. Trees could be heard snapping. My mother's arms tried to protect me from the crumbling world. Time seemed frozen, but eventually, the shaking stopped, and my house seemed to be holding its breath. My mom exhaled, and I knew that we were safe. 

I am a survivor of the cataclysmic earthquake that struck my home country of Haiti in 2010. Over 220,000 lives were taken, and three million lives were changed forever, including mine. The effects of what happened that day would last for years to come. My mother moved us out of Haiti, hoping to turn to an untroubled chapter of our lives. We were moving to America. 

I remember my first moment here in America, the land of the free, the land of opportunity. On the plane, they were serving American-style burgers.  I was suspicious of the ethnic cuisine I had never tried,  so I ate nothing on the flight. When we finally arrived at Kennedy Airport, I was excited and enthusiastic. Everything was different: the air, the people, the language. Everything. My little body flooded with anticipation for my future here in this new world.

My excitement was short-lived as I quickly learned that assimilating would be challenging. The start of first grade is when I realized the countless obstacles I would face as a "new" American. The cultural differences hit me hard. It made me miss my homeland even more. The school was much bigger than the one back home, and there were so many students that were not like me. I felt lost and alone. My English was broken, and I only knew the basics like "hello" and "my name is." This made making friends extremely challenging. I dreaded being called on by my teacher because my tongue would twist, and the words would come out broken and crooked. The embarrassment would consume me. 

I thought about giving up but knew my mom would never allow me to drop out in the first grade. She encouraged me to study harder. That is what I did. My mom took me to the library, where I could pick from an ocean of books. The books became my safety net. I read. I studied. I even watched some American television. I was determined to do whatever I needed to to be proficient in English and, in the end, be more like my American classmates. 

Time and determination helped me to achieve my goal. As the years passed, I became more comfortable in my skin. My accent was still noticeable, but my English had greatly improved. I made friends and began to get involved in school activities. My new confidence brought a new understanding of who I am. I learned that even when the world crumbles around me, I can survive and emerge stronger and smarter. I also learned to embrace my beautiful culture. I love being American but I know that Haiti will always be in my heart. 

I sat down on my bed and turned on the LED light that framed my mirror. I was going to attempt a simple "concealer only" makeup look. It was not perfect, but it came out better than usual. I created a list of links to Tik Tok videos that were makeup related. I included pictures of inspirational looks, products I wished to purchase, and the steps I needed to follow to achieve a flawless complexion. I am still determining what led to this recent fascination with makeup. Maybe it was boredom; perhaps it was a desire for a new skill, but all I knew was that I wanted to learn. I never thought it would be a skill that would give me self-confidence and, more importantly, a connection with my mom. 

I do not know much about my mom. Most of what I learned was through small observations and my repeated questioning from the passenger seat of her car. We seemed to be complete opposites, and most of the time, I felt as if my mom often considered me weak and timid. I had grown to believe that she did not like me very much. Her aloofness towards me is rooted in the fact that she has always worked in intense male-dominated fields. She started her career as a Marine, and upon her return to the civilian world, she became a corrections officer in Rikers Island, one of New York City's largest prisons. It has made her hard, and she can be hard on me. I do not blame her, but I wish I had known more about her. It is hard for me to imagine her as a brace-faced teenager who only wanted to hang out with her friends. I long to know that side of her, but connecting with or understanding her is difficult since she is so guarded with her emotions. The one connection we have is our love for everything found in the aisles of Sephora and Ulta. 

As a young girl, I dreamed of the stay-at-home mom who would hug and kiss me and send little love notes in my lunchbox. I wanted the mom who would show up at the Mother's Day Tea or the one who would be waiting for me outside the school with open arms. The absence of these things led me to believe that my mom did not love me. Chasing my mother's love was an exhausting race. It took me many years to realize that some love doesn't come wrapped up in a beautiful little package. Some love is shown in different ways. My mom showed her love by working a job that tested her to her core. She did this to afford me the things I needed and wanted. As a single mom, she sacrificed her dreams and desires to give me a better life. A life that she would have liked to have lived. 

My mom gave me my voice. She insisted at a young age that I needed to speak up and that my studies were more important than anything else. She instilled in me a solid work ethic and that I should always give my all to everything I do, even if it is a job I do not like. 

I am a fighter because I have spent my life watching my single mom fight to keep the roof over our heads or the lights on in our house. She never gave up. I will never give up. I am who I am, and I have her to thank. 

I spent my entire childhood chasing the idea of what a good mother should look and act like. I focused on our differences instead of finding the similarities. It was my sudden love of cosmetics that taught me that sometimes a beautiful and profound connection could be found in the simplest things. 

By Nicholas Garcia

Hunger is an enduring issue that affects million of people. The holiday season is always a reminder of the stark reality that here in America, people go hungry.

It is hard to imaging a Thanksgiving with no turkey or a Christmas dinner without a ham. But for many Americans, hunger is not seasonal--it is year round. 

A way to help with the recurring problem is by going to your local food drive and helping give back to the people in the community. 

Donations can go a long way. Whether it's food, money, beverages, and sometimes other necessities. Every little thing counts and can make a significant difference. 

 Something that caught my attention was that a worker pointed out, "Money can go a long way when it comes to food drives because they can easily make a 10-dollar donation of 60 dollars worth of food." 

What makes this amazing is that these people need all they can get, so things like that help out a ton. Not only is helping out like this good for the community, but it feels great to help the people in need. It makes me grateful for the things I  have because it may not seem like a lot, but it definitely will to others. 

After my experience donating this past holiday season, I recommend that you go help out at a local food drive near you to know what it's like to give back to your community. 

After I was done for the day, a lady came up to me and expressed gratitude to the other people willing to give their time to help her. She was surprised to see someone of my age lending a hand to give back but seeing it made her unbelievably grateful. She went into detail about how hard her life was and how life-changing these food drives can be because they help her out so much since she struggles with getting food. 

It may not seem like a lot, but these things are important to others, to those in need, and both you and I can make a difference.