THE PriDE - Site Index

Transcription

n Meet the 24 amazing students who created this newspaper and read all about them inside…
THE PRIDE
WORD OF THE AMBASSADORS
OREGON STATE UNIVERSITY and THE OREGONIAN: JUNE 2009
blog.oregonlive.com/teen
Corvallis backyard
farmers find fertile
ground in ‘a grand
experiment’ | Page 14
ABOVE | Bruce the Moose
(top) and a doe watch
volunteer Leonard Weber
unpack a specimen
for photographing.
PHOTO BY Jennifer Shim
Online
To get your own
inside glimpse of the
taxidermy exhibit visit
and watch a photo slideshow.
While there, watch videos
produced by the students,
listen to podcasts, read
their blog entries and
comment on their stories.
Stuffed menagerie:
herd not seen
Visit a place where
passion and art
meet: The Craft
Center | Page 16
A large collection of taxidermy animals whiles away
time in storage at Benton County Historical Museum
By NING NING YANG and JENNIFER SHIM
Bruce the Moose, once an iconic mascot of Oregon State University, stands just
inside a cool storage room at the Philomath warehouse of the Benton County Historical
Society & Museum. No longer a star attraction, the 8-foot-tall stuffed moose remains
poised in his thick, shaggy brown coat, awaiting his return to the spotlight.
Despite his 70-year history with the university, Bruce will not be seen anytime soon.
Nowadays, his glassy eyes survey the scene before him as 81-year-old Leonard
Weber of Corvallis, a retired electrical-engineering professor at OSU who has
volunteered at the museum since February, kneels before a low folding table covered in
white cloth. The bright white light of a large lamp illuminates the scene as Weber
Please see Page 6
This is going to hurt.
Get on the field
with the players
of the Pride – if
you dare | Page 8
Meet this year’s Workshop journalists
Page 2 | The PRIDE | High School Journalism Workshop | June 2009
Alex Chan | Page 28
16, Sunset High School
Random fact: She likes to rap on the side.
Danelly Muniz | Page 38
15, Parkrose High School
Most embarrassing camp moment:
“I drank so much water I had to go to
the bathroom every 30 minutes.”
Ariel Barrientos | Page 34
16, South Albany High School
Strangest food ever eaten:
Live octopus on a stick
Deepthika Ennamuri | Page 29
Nearly 17, Sunset HIgh School
Favorite Harry Potter character:
Severus Snape
Carlie Deltoro | Page 33
16, Westview High School
Favorite ice cream: Peanut butter chocolate
Dora Marchand | Page 31
Top song on playlist:
“Uhn Tis” by Bloodhound Gang
Cynthia Chand | Page 30
16, Glencoe High School
Random fact:
“I like to match my socks to my outfits.”
Eta Santoro | Page 28
15, West Linn High School
Favorite animal: Cuttle fish
Jennifer Shim | Page 38
17, Sunset High School
Random fact: “I’m double-jointed…
some people thinks it’s really creepy.”
Luisa Anderson | Page 35
17, Arts & Communication Magnet Academy
Fun fact: She has played clarinet for 6 years.
Maya Allen | Page 33
16, Grant High School
Most recent book read:
“The Coldest Winter Ever” by Sister Souljah
Morgan Chan | Page 36
17, Tigard High School
Favorite book: “Running With Scissors”
by Augusten Burroughs
Nora Sanchez | Page 32
18, South Albany High School
Favorite book of late:
“The Lovely Bones” by Alice Sebold
Olivia Jones-Hall | Page 35
14, Franklin High School
Initial thought when my editor told me
to do push-ups for missing deadline: “Thank
God it’s not 60 because she said it would be 60.”
Olyvia Chac | Page 32
16, Marshall High School
Superhero power she wants:
Healing or self-regeneration
Arainnia Brown | Page 37
Weakness: Cookies
Rosa Inocencio Smith | Page 31
Bad habit: Eavesdropping – “I enjoy it very much.”
Ivanna Tucker | Page 39
Favorite TV show: “So You Think You
Can Dance” ...and, yes, she does.
James Chavez | Page 30
16, Madison High School
Favorite movie: “A Walk to Remember”
Maricruz Gonzalez Vazquez | Page 29
15, Arts & Communication Magnet Academy
When she gets mad: Sometimes after a year
of friendship, knowing someone’s flaws,
how they think and their incompatibility.
Mariela Miller | Page 39
16, Cleveland High School
Favorite present given: For Mother’s Day 2009,
a coupon book including a five-minute massage,
homemade breakfast and dishwashing session
Ning Ning Yang | Page 37
16, Westview High School
What she loves more than anything:
Her green, plaid Burberry boots
Omega Mathews | Page 34
What I’ve learned at camp: “I’m not too
afraid to go make friends anymore.”
Shannon Cox | Page 36
17, Rex Putnam High School
Random fact: Really loves steamed broccoli.
“Diversity makes life interesting. It adds different people’s perspective on the issue and different understandings.” – Rosa Inocencio Smith
Welcome to the Newspaper Institute
for Minority High School Students
The Oregonian and Oregon State
University welcomed 24 minority high
school journalists from around the state
to this year’s camp. Over the course
of nine days, the students worked with
professionals from The Oregonian and
other journalism experts to get hands-on
training in reporting, writing, shooting
photos, producing video, blogging and
other multimedia elements.
This impressive 40-page newspaper
and other multimedia elements are the
result of countless hours of intrepid
interviews, seemingly endless drafts,
vibrant photographs and detailed video
footage.
We sometimes get the question:
Why a journalism camp for minority
students?
The camp is set up to address the
longtime lack of newsroom diversity
across America.
Plenty of journalism
camps already exist for
students of all ethnic
backgrounds, but few are
tailored to specifically
address the crisis in
newsroom diversity. The
core goal of this program
is to try to change that
lack of diversity by
helping talented minority
high school journalists
find a path to professional
journalism.
Newsroom diversity
has consistently lagged
behind population trends for decades.
Of the 931 newspapers that responded
to the latest American Society of News
Editors’ annual diversity survey, 458
reported they had no minorities on
their full-time staff. Even the largest
An inpsiring week of growth,
energy – and some fun
Thanks to the interest and passion of
former Director of Student Media Frank
Ragulsky, the Newspaper Institute for
Minority High School Students was
started at Oregon State University a
year ago.
Due to a generous grant from the
Ethics and Excellence in Journalism
Foundation in Oklahoma City, the
Institute was funded for two years.
Following Ragulsky’s retirement in
May, OSU Student Media continued
to work with The Oregonian to fulfill
the second year of the grant. Yuxing
Zheng and Inara Verzemnieks of The
Oregonian put together a staff of
energetic professionals who helped the
student participants create this amazing
work.
We do this work at OSU because
diversity, integrity, respect and social
responsibility are tenants upon which
our mission is founded. The Student
Media staff have been blessed to
be a part of the magic the Institute
produces. The energy, enthusiasm and
commitment of the 24 students at this
year’s camp to write and rewrite their
profiles and news stories, discuss what
diversity means to them and then play
hard when the work is done has been
inspiring. We feel privileged for the
opportunity to share this week with
them.
– Kami Hammerschmith
assistant director of Student Media
for Advertising & Marketing,
Oregon State University
– Ann Robinson
assistant director of Student Media,
Oregon State University
newspapers
in the country often
have few minorities in
high-ranking editorial
positions.
The current
turmoil in struggling
newsrooms has also
disproportionately
affected minorities.
Many newspapers
implementing the
“last hired, first fired”
method of downsizing
tend to lay off younger
reporters, who are
generally of more diverse backgrounds
than veteran staffers.
So why should anybody care?
Journalists have an obligation to
truthfully represent and report on
our communities. When most every
journalist gathered around the table
brings the same background and
perspective, we are doing ourselves
and our readers a disservice.
Ultimately, society only hurts itself
when we neglect and ignore one
another.
This camp can and will change that.
The students this week never
hesitated to start difficult conversations
about diversity and its role in
journalism. Even for the ones who
ultimately pursue other careers, the
camp has forever changed the way
these students think.
They see things in themselves, in
society that they overlooked only a
week ago.
They have found their voices.
– Yuxing Zheng and Inara Verzemnieks
The Oregonian, institute co-directors
Generous support opens
opportunities to campers
The Newspaper Institute for Minority
High School Students would not occur
without the generous support of:
• Ethics and Excellence in Journalism
Foundation
• The Oregonian, Publisher Fred
Stickel, Editor Sandy Rowe and
Executive Editor Peter Bhatia
• Oregon State University,
President Ed Ray, Vice Provost
for Student Affairs Larry Roper
We would also like to thank
the following people, who
served as editors, designers and guides
at the institute:
Maya Blackmun, Randy Cox, Nerissa
Ediza, Bruce Ely, Aaron Fentress,
Nikole Hannah-Jones, Nancy Hartley,
Kathy Hinson, John Killen, Quentin
Lueninghoener, Kim Melton, Kate
Moore, Melissa Navas, Wade Nkrumah,
Randy L. Rasmussen, Valory Thatcher,
Steve Woodward, Gosia Wozniacka,
Melody Wymer and Stephanie Yao.
Tyree Harris and Erin Murphy proved
invaluable as resident assistants.
And, finally, we’d like to
thank Pro Photo Supply in
Porland for their generous loan
of cameras for our workshop
participants to use.
LEFT | Eta Santoro (center) and Omega
Mathews (far right) interview Meadow
Goldman and Tony Noble about their
backyard farm.
RIGHT | Students Deepthika Ennamuri and
Olivia Jones-Hall go over changes to the
news story they’ve written with editor
Nicole Hannah-Jones.
photos by ra n dy L . rasmusse n
This year’s commentary and opinion pages
A dad’s legacy
lingers
Working through
the love and hate
By ARIEL BARRIENTOS
By IVANNA TUCKER
My dad would have been proud of the determination I’ve put into my
writing this week. Two years ago, a week after Thanksgiving Day, my
father passed away from a rare stomach cancer. It wasn’t until then that I
realized I needed to take life more seriously and not give up when things
get hard.
My pops was my best friend, the one who would guide me through
anything and everything in life. He was the perfect father, while I struggled to be even an OK or good son. He always wanted the best for me
and sacrificed himself to do anything just to give me what I wanted — no
matter what the cost.
But I never managed to return the favor. Not even close.
He always told me to be a simple, “cool” person. Never to be
cocky. Always be chill with everyone. Never make anyone feel like they
shouldn’t be around me. He told me we are put in this world to make
everyone’s day. Be different
from everyone else, be an
example. Be someone everyone enjoys talking with for
my personality and character,
not because of who I hang out
with or how I dress.
Now I live with the regret
of being greedy, selfish and
spoiled while he was around.
My dad forced himself to
be better than everyone. He
always wanted to be one step
ahead of the game. He didn’t
care how long or how hard it’d
be to meet his goals. If he set
them, it was because he knew
he had the potential. Even
though it sometimes seemed
like he was setting his goals
too high, he’d always manage
to accomplish them.
He loved us so much, and
the way he showed it left no
doubt. He never wanted any
Ariel Barrientos | South Albany High School of my siblings or me to suffer
or go through anything he
experienced as a child.
My dad lived in a rough neighborhood in Mexico City that was full of
poverty. When my pops’ older sister left home at 15, he became the oldest
of four brothers at home. He had started working at 9, and spent most of
his childhood looking after his brothers. My grandfather was an alcoholic
and left my grandmother when my pops was young. She was forced to
work multiple jobs, missing out on the opportunity to take care of her
children.
Later, my dad migrated to the United States at 20 in pursuit of a better opportunity. At first he struggled. Even though he had a job, he lived
under a bridge. My dad kept working and one day managed to build his
dream house.
My dad told me that he never had anyone to push him or lead him to a
better life. He told me that he would always be there for me.
My father taught me how to respect others and act properly, even
though I didn’t half of the time.
It kills me when I think of him, whether it’s about all the good times
or the bad times. I wish I could have one last second with him. But now I
have to wait because he’s one step ahead of us in heaven.
It’s up to us, the ones who loved him and hope to see him again, to do
what he wished we’d all do. He wanted us to find ourselves with God, and
someday join him to laugh and smile again.
Even though my dad wasn’t given the chance to watch me grow into
the man I am now, I will keep following the path he carved for me. Life
will get tougher, but if he did it, I can do it.
A friend once told me, “Rare is the man whose absence is felt so
deeply by so many.” My dad was that type of man.
In the dictionary, love and hate have opposing definitions. Love is
a strong, positive emotion of regard and affection. Hate is a negative
emotion of dislike or hostility. Everyone will have a chance to experience
each, and sometimes both at the same time. Over the time at camp, I got
my chance to experience this.
Sitting in a chair, leaning back with his arms crossed, wearing big,
black nerdy glasses and a look of frustration is Wade Nkrumah, my editor.
A former writer for The Oregonian, his job is to help me become a better
journalist. He does a great job, but I do not understand his way of doing
things. I’m not used to the editing he does. My reaction toward it is very
straightforward, and I tend not to hold anything back.
When he is discussing my essays and what he wants fixed, my notebook oftentimes becomes my doodling tool, as I blank out what he says
and distract myself. I speak greatly on how much I dislike the editing.
Then, there are times when I
don’t say anything at all so I
won’t say the wrong thing.
It drives him insane. He
will ask if I’m paying attention while I’m doodling. I’ll
say I am. He then asks me
how I can pay attention when
I am drawing pictures. I’ll try
to confuse him and tell him I
am — but I’m really not.
When I tell him about
his editing techniques, he just
keeps explaining to me why,
but I interrupt him so I don’t
have to listen to it. Then he
will try to keep on explaining, yet I will keep interrupting him. I felt he was wrong.
At one point, Wade got so
frustrated with me, he yelled
at me.
I was taking pictures for
our story and I wasn’t taking
it seriously. He asked me to
Ivanna Tucker | Parkrose High School
make sure I was taking the
names of everyone I was taking a picture of. I told him sarcastically that I was going to take pictures
of only the people that I knew. He heatedly told me that I needed to take
the situation more seriously. He didn’t understand that I was joking. I
shouldn’t have been joking, for he was teaching me something I needed to
know.
Sometimes he just keeps blabbering on about his reasons of doing
things. He always discusses why newspapers write things a certain way.
It may be good information, but he might as well be talking to a wall
because I cannot pay attention for that long. I will zone out.
But after having a talk with two people about what I should do about
the situation, they helped me realize that I have to just take in what he
says and input it into my work and take it into consideration because he
knows what he is doing. I don’t have enough knowledge of journalism to
challenge what he says. Respecting what he thinks is an important factor
to prevent our relationship from chaos.
Even though we have different ideas and thoughts, we still have to
work as a team. Despite all the things we dislike about each other’s thinking, pulling through it and making it work is what counts.
Professional, friendly and romantic relationships are different but
need to have a balance of both love and hate. Without love, you cannot
save a relationship from a challenge. Without hate, you cannot build a
relationship to become stronger.
In the process of a relationship, there are things you have to realize:
No one is perfect, and everyone has something great and something horrible about them. Everyone has a time of struggle in their relationships,
but with some kind of effort, it will all get better in time.
“If you don’t have diversity in a newsroom, you shouldn’t have a newspaper.” – Olyvia Chac
Coming home to a
city I’d never seen
Pledge of Allegiance
contradicts freedoms
By MAYA ALLEN
By CYNTHIA CHAND
The first time I stepped foot in Atlanta, I felt 10 feet tall.
I felt as if my mind and my perspective on life had expanded. For the
first time in my life, I looked around and all the faces surrounding me looked
like mine.
When I was in Atlanta last summer, everyone who passed by was the
same color as me. The mailman. The flight attendant. The waitress. The high
school student. The list can go on and on.
I walked down the streets and “Mrs. Officer,” by Lil’ Wayne, blasted out
of speakers on the walls of stores. The sidewalks were filled with vendors,
soul food, music and lots of people who looked like me. I saw black men and
women driving Corvettes and Lamborghinis out of valet parking lots.
I was experiencing culture shock. I had never known of a place like Atlanta. A feeling of acceptance hit me, and suddenly I felt at home. Finally.
It’s not that I don’t know diversity. Grant High School, where I will be
a junior in the fall, is one of the
most ethnically diverse schools
in Oregon. But in Atlanta, even
though it is a majority black city,
I saw diversity there, too. It was
a new kind of diversity for me. It
was diversity beyond race.
I saw something in Atlanta
that I’d never seen in Portland.
Black presidents of universities.
Black men and women in community and corporate leadership
positions. A black mayor.
The impression was profound for me, even though I have
role models in Portland. My father is the principal of Jefferson
High School’s Boy’s Academy.
My mother is a home health
nurse at Kaiser Permanente. My
sister, a valedictorian and Rose
Festival princess at Grant High
School, is now the sophomore
class president at Spelman College in Atlanta.
Maya Allen | Grant High School
There are others, too. At Self
Enhancement Inc., there’s Tony
Hopson Sr. At Grant, there’s Kesha Mitchell, my SEI coordinator.
But for the first time, in Atlanta, I could look beyond my circle of family
and friends and see many more successful role models who looked like me.
Before going to Atlanta, it seemed I lived the fairy tale childhood. I had
the toys, the bikes, the Barbie dolls and cars, the collection of Disney Movies. I had the friends, the grades and the great family.
Everything you could name, I did. I was a Girl Scout, an ice skater, a
ballet dancer, a basketball player, a flutist and much more. I loved everything
I did, never feeling that I was different.
Except one thing was missing. Not until recently did I realize I grew up
being “the token black girl.” None of the other girls, in all of the activities
I did, were African-American. None of my childhood friends were AfricanAmerican. I guess it was good that I enjoyed my childhood, but looking back,
I wish there was more diversity.
My parents always instilled African-American culture in my life. But
growing up in Portland doesn’t really give you the feeling of diversity or culture at all. In a changing world, Portland still remains overwhelmingly white.
In fact, it is whitest major city in the country.
I personally feel that it is a great place to raise a family, but to live here
forever is a definite no for me. I want an exciting life, full of change, intelligence and happiness. And more people who look like me.
Last summer, visiting Atlanta was one of the best times in my life. It
felt wonderful to be around intelligent and inspiring African-American men,
women and children. That’s why I am really looking forward to my junior
year for the Self Enhancement College Tour of historically black colleges and
universities.
This tour will give me a chance to feel 10 feet tall again.
As the Glencoe High School gym quiets down, 1,500 students rise
to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I proudly stand among them. But as
the pledge continues, we approach my least favorite line — “one nation,
under God.”
I have not said that part of the pledge in a long time. I often hope
that someone will notice and ask me to explain my moment of silence.
Many of my personal feelings come from the fact that my father is
Hindu. I give up meat on Tuesdays, his day of prayer, and have grown
up celebrating Hindu holidays, including Diwali, Raksha Bandhan and
Ram Naumi. An American flag flies outside my house on holidays. I
wore an American flag necklace for two years after the 9/11 attacks.
I know I am lucky to live in America. I am proud to be a citizen of
a diverse country that values personal rights and freedoms. In fact, my
American pride is precisely the reason I choose not to say “under God.”
Our nation is composed
of people who believe in
God, don’t believe in God,
worship a different god
or pray to multiple gods.
I don’t think it is fair to
single out one religion
and include it in a national
pledge.
A 1973 ruling by the
Supreme Court decided
that no one was required
to participate in the
pledge. Everyone has the
right to sit as the pledge is
recited, or they can even
leave the room quietly.
However, the issue
of including “under God”
remains unresolved. It was
brought to the Supreme
Court five years ago, but
no decision was made
and the topic has not been
widely debated since.
Cynthia Chand | Glencoe High School
The “under God”
phrase is not even part of
the original pledge; it was added under the Eisenhower administration
during the 1950s. It was in the middle of the Cold War, and adding a religious phrase to our national pledge created a clear separation between
America and the atheist communists we were fighting, according to
Barbara Bernstein, an expert on Pledge of Allegiance issues who served
32 years as executive director at the Nassau Chapter of New York Civil
Liberties Union.
The ’50s are long over. It is not fair to classify all non-Christian and
nonreligious people as outsiders who are out to change the way our nation operates. This assumption is offensive to both religious and nonreligious Americans.
Shannon Cox, who attends Rex Putnam High School in Milwaukie,
has not said the Pledge of Allegiance for almost nine years. Cox, who is
a Lutheran and believes in God, thinks having “under God” in the pledge
is unconstitutional.
“If you advertise that your country has freedom of religion, you
should practice it,” Cox said.
The uncomfortable feelings that “under God” provokes forces some
people to make a decision between their country and their religion. I
continue to say the rest of the Pledge of Allegiance because I believe we
are indivisible and that we should have liberty and justice for all, regardless of religious views.
So, why is it that we are stuck saying a phrase added half a century
ago out of fear? We should move past the closed-minded decisions that
were made at a time when we were scared of communism and prove the
strength of our founding principles.
This year’s news and feature story reporting begins here…
Lots of animals, little space
continued from Page One
arranges a small bird specimen on the table,
searching for just the right angle from which
to take its photo.
The bird, whose card identifies it as a Macgillivray’s warbler, and Bruce, along with approximately 250 to 300 other specimens, came
to the museum last year as part of a 60,000piece collection of anthropological, geological,
zoological and historical artifacts. The collection dates back to 1925, when John Horner, an
OSU agriculture professor, created a public
museum from several private collections.
Bruce, a 1939 gift to the Horner Museum
from the Corvallis chapter of the order of
Moose, is the most identifiable of the taxidermy portion of the collection.
Funding cuts in 1995 made it impossible for
OSU to retain the collection. OSU staff members who were members of the Oregon Historical Society began negotiations for the collection to be transferred from the university to the
Benton County Historical Society, which built
a $2.4 million warehouse to house it securely,
in compliance with the transfer agreement. The
items in the collection range from the expected
— antique chairs and clothing line the shelves
in the museum’s warehouse — to the unex-
pected, such as this taxidermy collection.
Taxidermy, the art of mounting or reproducing dead animals for display, is far removed
from the Benton County Historical Museum’s
stated mission of collecting artifacts directly
related to Benton County history. However,
since these animals were in the Horner collection when the museum acquired it in spring
2008, the museum has been entrusted with
their care and storage.
Little room for exhibits
The museum’s warehouse, a plain white
barn-like building behind the museum, is a
temperature-controlled series of high-ceilinged, industrial rooms with concrete floors
and white walls. Its main room is dominated by
the clutter of white cardboard boxes filled with
artifacts of human history, piled three, four and
even five high. Oversized shelves hold antique
chairs, chests and other large pieces.
Crammed into a tiny room off the main one,
the taxidermy collection contains so many
specimens that visitors have little maneuvering
room. The largest animals — including Bruce,
a barn owl with its wings spread in flight, multiple golden eagles, a droopy-eyed Saint Ber-
nard, a wolf with its ears pricked in perpetual
alertness and a stiff-figured Emperor penguin
— sit on shelves. Their glass eyes give artificial life to animals that date from as early as
the late 19th century.
Smaller specimens, such as the warbler Weber is carefully photographing, sit in anonymous white cardboard boxes, identified by box
numbers from 1 to 245. Some boxes contain
a single animal; others may contain as many
as a dozen birds packed securely in acid-free
foam.
Mark Tolonen, the museum’s curator of exhibitions, says, “We really don’t have the room
to display all the taxidermy,” nor the inclination to do so. Tolonen says that he doesn’t “see
a full taxidermy exhibit in the future, (only)
pieces of the taxidermy collection integrated
into larger exhibits.”
Since the collection’s move from OSU, only
10 pieces from the collection have made it into
the museum for public viewing. An antelope
head, three birds, three owls, a beaver and a
deer are displayed alongside other artifacts:
a currency display, an OSU history box and
sundry tidbits of Benton County history. Bruce
made a brief appearance in the museum during
the Christmas season.
Perhaps under a different curator with
more experience in taxidermy, the collection
might be more heavily emphasized in the
future, Tolonen said. For now, however,
the public will have only limited access
Benton County Historical
Society & Museum
• 1101 Main St., Philomath
• Phone: (541) 929-6230
• Hours: 10 am to 4:30 pm Tuesday
through Saturday
• Admission: Free
www.bentoncountymuseum.org
through an online display.
Public perceptions vary
Even though space limitations hinder the
museum from publicly showcasing the extensive collection, ethics and political unease also
come into the discussion. For Ross Sutherland,
the museum’s collections storage specialist,
others’ opposition to taxidermy is a cause for
concern.
“Of course, people still kill deer and stuff,
but now we have PETA and vegetarians, where
the whole idea of killing animals and stuffing
them is really horrible,” Sutherland said.
With recent events involving PETA’s protest against President Barack Obama after he
swatted a fly on national television, Sutherland
believes the museum must carefully choose
which pieces to display to avoid disturbing the
public.
“In the museum you also try and not court
controversy,” Sutherland said. “It sounds like
you’re self-censoring, and that’s really not it.
When you look at things, some people find
taxidermy really wonderful, but others find it
really repulsive.”
Tolonen, however, does not expect the community to resist a display of the existing collection.
“Many different groups could be concerned
(about acquiring new animals), but the museum is not out looking for more specimens,”
Tolonen said. “We are only looking to preserve
what we have.”
Weber, the volunteer, expressed similar
beliefs, explaining how the taxidermy collection should be available to the public because
it has already been completed. But he said the
practice of taxidermy should not necessarily be
continued.
“These specimens are already done, so we
might as well see them,” Weber said, “However, whether or not (taxidermy) should be done
in the future is a different question.”
At the same time, taxidermy has educational
potential.
For Weber, hunting and killing animals for
trophies is unacceptable. But taxidermy to provide education in the long run can be a different story.
“Things become extinct, and this is a way of
preserving them for a long time,” Weber said.
Taxidermy’s changing landscape
Even though Tolonen says the museum has
no plans to expand its taxidermy collection,
taxidermy itself is unlikely to die out. Multiple phone-book listings for taxidermists in
the Corvallis area, as well as the existence of
Research Mannikins in Lebanon, one of the
world’s largest taxidermy supply companies,
point to a robust industry for both scientific
and private uses.
“There will probably never be a future without taxidermy, because there are some things
you don’t see in photographs,” Weber said.
“This means photographs are not enough for
some scientific research.”
Bruce’s future, unlike that of the process
that has preserved him for more than 70 years,
is less certain. While it is clear that he will remain at the Benton County Historical Society
& Museum, his return to the public eye is much
more tenuous. For now, members of the public
yearning to see this particular icon will have to
content themselves with the smaller plush versions. They are available in the museum store
for less than $10.
LEFT | Museum volunteer Leonard Weber
photographs two birds from the Horner
taxidermy collection. Eventually they will
become available to the public on the
museum’s Web site.
P hotos by Je n n i f e r S h i m
“It’s important to get everyone’s point of view. (Diversity) helps people be open-minded.” – Carlie Deltoro
Love of art,
interest in animals
intersect in new career
By JENNIFER SHIM and NING NING YANG
ABOVE | A Franklin’s gull rests in acid-free foam,
ready to be returned to storage.
photos by J e n n i f e r S him
BELOW | Volunteer Leonard Weber returns
a box to its original position after
photographing its contents.
The largest
animals –
including Bruce,
a barn owl with
its wings spread
in flight, multiple
golden eagles,
a droopy-eyed
Saint Bernard,
a wolf with its
ears pricked
in perpetual
alertness and
a stiff-figured
BELOW | This photo from Oregon
State University’s archives shows
the original Horner collection.
C our tesy o f O r ego n State Unive r sity
Emperor penguin
– sit on shelves.
Dressed in jeans with a button-up short-sleeved shirt and
driving a Toyota pickup, Matt Vanselow looks like an average
Corvallis resident. By day, he drives for FedEx Ground. But by
night, he enters a well-lit workspace lined with metal tools, antlers
on the concrete floor and a strangely lifelike deer head resting on a
simple table.
Born and raised in Corvallis, the 30-year-old has always had
a passion for art and animals. Combining these two passions led
Vanselow to become a professional taxidermist a few years ago.
“It just kind of crept up on me. I’ve never really thought about it
before,” Vanselow said. “It took me a few years before deciding.”
Vanselow first became interested in taxidermy when he saw
an ad for the Pennsylvania Institute of Taxidermy on a hunting
channel in 2003. He decided to attend a few years later and
graduated from the 7.5-month-long program.
Now, with his taxidermy license in his wallet along with various
hunting licenses, he is
trying to become a top
name in the taxidermy
business nationwide.
His business
has adapted to the
evolving taxidermy
practice. Over the past
10 years, materials
and technology have
improved, giving
Vanselow and other
taxidermists the
ability to create more
convincingly lifelike
pieces.
“I love the artistry
of taxidermy. I’m
pretty high-end. I
don’t do what they
call production work,”
Vanselow said. “Like
competition work, my
work looks alive.”
To bring his pieces to
life, Vanselow aims for
anatomical correctness.
Whether customers
showcase Vanselow’s
work as trophies or
as rustic decorations
in their cabin homes,
all his pieces display
animals as realistically
as possible.
For Vanselow, not
only is taxidermy aesthetically pleasing, but also educational.
“Taxidermy is a good way to showcase what we have here,”
Vanselow said. “It gives people respect for the animals and
environment. We have animals that are only found on the Pacific
coast.”
But the practice, along with hunting, has become increasingly
controversial as more people support animal rights, Even though
anti-hunting sentiments are rising along with vegetarianism and
organizations like People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals
(PETA), Vanselow firmly supports hunting and taxidermy.
“For me, opposition doesn’t matter. I don’t think hunting and
killing is unethical. The wild animals are going to die and get
eaten eventually,” Vanselow said. “The animals are food. What I
don’t believe in is torturing the animals.”
Vanselow values and takes advantage of what nature has to
offer. For example, he recommends using the meat of animals,
whether it is eaten by the hunter or donated to shelters as healthy
meals.
When he’s not busy working, Vanselow takes the time to
appreciate the animals and the land.
“I’m the guy who goes to the Finley wildlife refuge just to
watch the birds,” said Vanselow, referring to the national refuge in
the Willamette Valley. “I’m a hunter, so I want there to be animals.
I don’t want to kill them so I can get rid of all of them.”
ABOVE | Matt
Vanselow, a
Corvallis-area
taxidermist,
explains the
process of
taxidermy.
To maintain
his precision,
Vanselow
custom-fits each
pair of antlers to
its form.
photo by
Ning Ning Yang
“Diversity means being able to embrace different cultures, especially your own. ” – Jennifer Shim
This ain’t no powder puff football
“Diversity means stepping out of our box. It’s important in the newsroom because it’s better to hear what others have to say.” – Arainnia Brown
With a Barbies-and-dress-up
childhood, Leah Hinkle surprised herself —
and others
— by plunging into tackle
football as an adult
By ARAINNIA BROWN
Before she tackles her opponent, she thinks
to herself, “Is this going to hurt?”
Leah Hinkle appears to be a girly girl, with
her flowing yellow top, sassy black heels and
vibrant smile. But this 5-foot-5 woman has
been a player in the Independent Women’s
Football League (IWFL) for six years and
is one of four captains of the Corvallis Pride
women’s tackle football team.
“It’s very empowering,” she says with a
confident tone. “I really like being aggressive,
not having to be polite.”
However, it didn’t start out like that. Hinkle
confesses she was scared when she showed up
for her first practice. “I was worried I wasn’t
going to play well,” she says. “I thought the
other ladies wouldn’t have respect for me.”
Thankfully they were “very sweet and kind
and welcoming,” she says. Even though her
nerves had the best of her when she first started
to play, she was determined to learn the game.
Hinkle never pictured herself tackling people
with delight. Sports were not a big part of her
household growing up. She was a tutu-wearing
ballerina and dancer for 10 years. She played
with Barbie dolls and liked to play dress-up.
Her older brother, Dustin, took karate lessons and her younger brother, James, was involved in Boy Scouts. Neither played football.
The Superbowl was the only football game the
family really watched.
Hinkle has always looked up to her mother
and she is still inspired by her today.
“My mom is very strong and assertive. She
always told me, ‘If you are going to do something, do it 100 percent, all the way through
and finish it.’ She’s tough and has a high pain
tolerance. She never played football, but if she
did she would have been scary,” Hinkle says
as she bursts into a laugh. “Her advice has
helped me with my football career.”
About six years ago, Hinkle was on a quest
to find something new to do. She wanted to be
involved with people. At the Benton County
Fair she saw a video of football players with
ponytails under their helmets, and to her surprise, it was women playing tackle football.
She made up her mind she wanted to try it.
It wasn’t easy at first; she sat on the bench
a lot during her first season. “I observed and
learned how the game was played,” she says.
Her family and friends were cautious about
her decision to play football. “My best friend
thought it was weird and dangerous, but she
still supported me,” Hinkle says.
As she started playing in more games, Hinkle’s family started to feel more comfortable
about her being a football player.
However, during her second season, when
Hinkle was tackled by a fellow teammate
by accident and broke her leg, her mother’s
views changed. Hinkle says her mom wanted her to quit football out of fear that she
might get injured again. Although she understood her mom’s concern, Hinkle decided
to follow her heart and get back in the game
where, she says, “I belong.”
Hinkle works hard to stay in shape. She lifts
weights three times a week. She also does a
spinning class while wearing her football helmet or goes running twice a week. Football
helmets weigh about 4½ pounds and are the
most uncomfortable part of the uniform. She
exercises with it on so she can get accustomed
to wearing it.
During football season, the team practices
twice a week, so she gets a workout six or
seven times a week. Hinkle’s diet is balanced
when football season comes around. “I eat a lot
healthier than I used to. I eat protein and fiber
before a game, and antioxidants.”
A football uniform is complicated to put
on. First Hinkle puts her knee pads and thigh
pads into the mesh pockets of her pants. After
that she puts her jersey over her shoulder pads.
Then she slides on her white athletic socks, and
over them she puts on her black knee-high uniform socks. She then puts on her pants, which
hold up the socks. Then shoulder pads are
strapped on, the jersey is tucked in.
Hinkle ordered her shoulder pads from a
Web site specializing in women’s gear. Most
of the team wears gear made for boys or men.
“My cat likes to chew on my football uniform,” she says, which is why her mouth guard
Finding a game
for the lion-hearted
By MORGAN CHAN
“WHAT TIME IS IT? GAME TIME! WHAT
TIME IS IT? GAME TIME! O LINE GAME
TIME, SPECIAL TEAMS GAME TIME.
STRIKE FIRST, STRIKE LAST. STRIKE
FIRST, STRIKE LAST,” the team shouts,
“BREAK IT DOWN – BOOM! BREAK
IT DOWN – BOOM! BREAK IT DOWN
– BOOM!”
Crouched low to the ground, the Pride enthusiastically implode before the start of a game.
The Corvallis Pride is more than just a
women’s tackle football team; it is a family. It
is a tight-knit group of women coming from
all walks of life, ages and sizes, bonded by the
game and close friendships.
The team was named the Pride by Beth Bugoilone, head coach and owner of the team,
because of how female lions take care of their
families.
These women have overcome many obstacles to come together this past season. Lacking enough players, the Pride combined with
another team struggling for numbers, the Redding Rage. Early worries about the merger
soon disappeared once the 360-mile journey to
Redding was made.
LEFT | Hinkle always stares straight ahead
and avoids eye contact with her opponents. “They don’t deserve it,” she says.
PHOTO BY MORGAN CHAN
ABOVE | Leah Hinkle talks about the novel
she hopes to finish writing this summer.
PHOTO BY ARAINNIA BROWN
“A block is a block, and a tackle is a tackle.
It’s just how coaches say they want it to be
done that’s different,” Bugoilone explains.
The two teams adjusted to the situation
quickly. In their first game against Seattle,
few penalties were incurred. “The game was
played clean, we had good communication,”
says Bugoilone.
During strategy meetings, called “chalk
talks,” the team hooks up the computer and
makes a call down to Redding using Skype.
Bugoilone says it is as if they are in the room.
Skype lets the two teams easily see and communicate with each other during these strategic
meetings.
Bugoilone plans a success-filled season this
upcoming year, hoping to increase team numbers and get the team back into the playoffs.
In the past, the Pride tried advertising at
festivals and fairs, but not much interest was
shown. Bugoilone is trying out new tactics to
raise interest in the team and the sport of women’s tackle football. Her goal is “getting more
people into the family.”
During the fall, Bugoilone and Leah Hinkle,
a veteran player, will be teaching a physical activities course, or PAC, at OSU in the hope of
sparking an interest in women’s tackle football.
The class, specifically for women, will cover
flag football and will also include chalk talks
and instruction on how the game is played.
The Pride will also be featured in a documentary on women’s tackle football, shot by
Karlyn Gibson. Gibson has been following
the Pride since May and plans to follow them
through the next season.
“On the surface level, this documentary is
important to me because it explores a facet of
society I know very little about. I’m always
interested in subjects I am unfamiliar with,”
Gibson said.
Gibson added, “I feel women’s tackle football embodies the essence of women in what
are typically male roles. I ultimately want to
show society that women’s tackle football
has a strong existence, the women come in all
shapes, sizes, ages, sexual orientations and experience levels, and those who play it have a
blast.”
In order to cover uniforms and other team
costs, players pay a fee. Due to low numbers
this year, player fees were doubled to $1,000,
but there are multiple fundraising opportunities to offset the cost to participate.
Marrei Medina, a player for the Pride, also
runs a certified home bakery. Medina has been
making “cake balls” for almost eight years. For
the past two years she has been playing for the
is no longer attached to the face guard of her
helmet.
Hinkle’s jersey number is 30, although the
whole team wears the number 33 on their helmets in tribute to Pam Sandlin, a player who
died in a horseback accident.
She talks about her teammates with pride.
“Most of my close friends are football players.
Not only do we practice together and play together, we hang out together on the weekends.
We go out dancing and have barbecues,” Hinkle says. “We are all so different, but we have
mutual respect.”
Hinkle taught English-language learners at
South Albany High School and will have a different position within the Greater Albany Public School District next year. As an ELL school
support specialist, she will work with K-12
teachers in the district.
She tells her students she’s a football player
and some students follow her games. Every
Monday they want to know if she won. Some
of Hinkle’s female students think she is crazy
for playing football. “When they see my bruises they cringe.”
Hinkle will start her seventh season with the
Pride in December. She became a team captain
two years ago. She is a linebacker on defense,
and on offense she plays center or running
back. “It may sound mean,” she says, but she
says her purpose is to stop her opponent’s forward progress any way she can.
“Leah is the heart of our team, everyone
gravitates towards her,” says fellow teammate
Marrei Medina.
Hinkle says she is still learning the rules of
the game, and when she doesn’t know what
the referee is calling, as a captain she just goes
with the flow.
The Pride’s season ended on June 13, but
they will get together to start pre-season conditioning in July. Practices start in December and
padded practices begin in January. The team
usually plays an eight-game season in April,
May and June.
“When I talk to women who didn’t have the
opportunity to play sports, I feel grateful that I
get to have the opportunity to play,” she says.
Pride, the team has had access to this fundraising opportunity. She charges only the cost of
supplies, and players sell the cake balls, with
all profits going towards the team. Players also
take tickets in the VIP area during OSU games
held at Reser Stadium.
The women who make up the Pride are
unique. The oldest player was Sheree Bittner,
who has since retired; she played into her early
50s. There have also been several players as
young as 18. Players’ occupations range anywhere from student, firefighter, teacher, truck
driver, physical trainer, correctional officer to
mom.
Despite their differences, they are all
brought together by football. Players arrive at
least three hours beforehand; getting ready for
a game is a time-consuming process. Armed
with snacks and attitude, the women prepare
for a full day. The Pride gets pumped in the
locker room before a game by dancing to a pregame CD made by one of the players and doing
the Cupid Shuffle.
The Pride is one of 51 teams in the Independent Women’s Football League. The IWFL, a
nonprofit started in 2000, says more than 1,600
women play professional football across the
nation.
The IWFL separates teams into two categories. Tier I is for larger, more competitive
teams. Tier II teams generally have a smaller
roster and travel and compete closer to home.
The Pride is in Tier II and plays teams such
as the Seattle Majestics, Portland Shockwave
and Sacramento Sirens.
Winning a championship is nice, but Bugoilone is passionate about women’s tackle
football because she witnesses women transforming into confident and strong individuals.
“Too many women feel pretty down about
themselves; they need that teamwork. It affects
every part of their lives,” Bugoilone says.
“It’s important to get everybody’s different backgrounds. Without that you only get one viewpoint.” – Ivanna Tucker
“When I play,
I play for the
audience. I love
the camaraderie
amongst the
musicians. We
have a variety of
occupations that
all come together for a common
love of making
music.”
– Larry Pribyl
Love of music threads
through band and audience
Tuesday nights in summer
find Corvallis Community
Band playing for friends
and neighbors
By IVANNA TUCKER and MAYA ALLEN
On a sunny summer evening, strings of lights
frame the Central Park gazebo rooftop, glistening
over about 80 members of the Corvallis Community Band.
Musical scales echo throughout the park as
musicians begin rehearsing pieces they received
an hour before show time.
Little by little, the crowd multiplies into nearly
100 people. The park fills with the elderly and the
young. People embrace like they haven’t seen one
another in years. The feeling of happiness shows.
The sounds of Corvallis Community Band
bring to life the spirit of Bob Hannah. A large
black and white portrait of Hannah sits in a chair
next to one occupied by his widow, Anita Hannah. The chairs have a front-row view of the band.
Family and friends join Anita in remembrance of
Bob, who died April 20.
Anita Hannah, 72, has been going to the concerts for 10 years, attending with her husband the
last four. She said hearing the band helps keep his
memory alive.
“Because of the music in the park,” she said,
“it is a great way for family and friends to get
together and gossip.”
That community spirit can be seen in the people of the 200-member volunteer band. There are
no auditions or fees, and no age or gender restrictions. The experience level includes high school,
college and professional.
Band members, such as Charlie Steinmetz,
have a passion for music and want to help the
community keep the importance of it alive.
Steinmetz, 54, was an audience member when,
at the end of a concert years ago, the band director invited the audience to join the band. He plays
alto saxophone and has participated for 15 years.
“That’s the beauty of it,” Steinmetz said, “it’s a
cross section of the community.”
As a concert band, there is a mix of instruments
but, unlike an orchestra, there are no strings. There
is a full complement of instruments: flute and piccolo; clarinet and bass clarinet; bassoon and oboe;
alto, tenor and baritone saxophone; cornet, horn,
trumpet; tuba; trombone; percussion.
Steve Matthes, 58, decided to become director
when his friend Sue Burton, a band member, told
him the band was looking for a director.
Matthes has been in the band for more than 30
years. “I am a firm believer of the love of music
as a lifelong activity,” he said.
He wants to give the band new experiences in
the future. For example, he said, the band is planning a February performance in Florence on the
Oregon coast.
During summer, the band performs Tuesday
evenings through August. Concerts are at Central
Park and free, with sometimes 300 to 500 people
in the audience.
For 44 years, the trumpet has been Larry
Pribyl’s instrument of choice, and for 27 years,
Corvallis Community Band has been his band of
choice.
In 1982, he moved from Lincoln, Neb., to
Corvallis and his interest in the band was sparked.
Back then, Pribyl said, the group was much
smaller.
“When I play, I play for the audience,” Pribyl
said. “I love the camaraderie amongst the musicians. We have a variety of occupations that all
come together for a common love of making music.”
While school is in session, the band rehearses
at Linus Pauling Middle School in northwest
Corvallis. In the summer, the band practices at
Central Park. Some band members, like Alexandra Vincent, hope that one day they will have a
permanent place to practice.
Since the mid-1990s, Vincent has been a member of the band. After reading about it in a newspaper, then attending concerts every Tuesday, she
realized this might be something she would love
to do.
She started playing the B-flat clarinet in 1971,
and continued playing through high school and
college.
“I think it’s the joy of playing music, the sound
of the full group, and the talent of learning new
music and performing,” Vincent said. “I hope I
can continue to play as long as my health permits.”
With the community by her side.
“Diversity gives you the opportunity to learn from other people from totally different walks of life.” – Maya Allen
ABOVE | Bill Callender, 43, takes
his turn directing the group on
a piece before the performance.
Calllender has been playing the
trombone in the band since 1995.
Photos by Ivanna Tuc ker
LEFT | Anita Hannah, 72,
attends concerts to support
the band and in memory
of her husband, Bob.
For years, the Hannahs went
to concerts together.
BELOW | Community members
come to relax and listen to the
music of the Corvallis Community
Band every Tuesday evening
throughout the summer.
ABOVE | Members of the Corvallis Community
Band flute section include Julie Sutherland, 65
(front left), Kim Mullen, 25 (right front), and
Bobbie Gates, 64, (center back). The band has
a variety of ages.
P hoto by Ivan n a T uc ke r
LEFT | Jonathan Zaworkski, 19, focusing
intently on his music, is one of the youngest
tuba players in the band. Members range in
age from 11 into their 80s.
P hoto by M AYA A L L E N
“If there’s no diversity, then there won’t be perspectives on various things because one might look at things in a different way.” – Ariel BarrienPage 12 | The PRIDE | High School Journalism Workshop | June 2009
Center finds the
‘multi’ in culture
of Corvallis
By DEEPTHIKA ENNAMURI
and OLIVIA JONES-HALL
ABOVE | The center
displays its diversity in
many ways, including
a pile of shoes from
different countries.
P H O T Os B Y
ol i v i a jo n es- hall
BELOW | Seeta
Khurram (right)
laughs during an
English lesson at the
Corvallis Multicultural
Literacy Center when
Director Dee Curwen
asks her if the toilet
belongs in the kitchen.
Curwen founded the
center in 2005 to help
immigrants, refugees
and people of color
find community and
get help in a city
where diversity is
often invisible.
“We understand that
it is really awkward
for people to strictly
speak English when
they don’t know
how. So in a cooking
class they can interact
and practice their
English without
having to necessarily
use complete
sentences. It is a
much more relaxed
environment.”
– Dee Curwen
A dark-haired woman sits at a table in a room
with books and toys scattered in the corner. In her
left arm she holds her baby. With her right hand
she flips through a simple story about a taxi driver. As children play in a toy truck in the back, the
woman joins others from Mexico and Afghanistan who have come to the old yellow house near
Oregon State University’s campus with a single
focus: to learn English.
In a city where 83 percent of residents are
white, the Corvallis Multicultural Literacy Center draws people from many different ethnic
backgrounds through its doors. People come to
the house — filled with dolls and clothes from
around the world — to connect with people in
their community, practice English and learn about
other cultures.
Dee Curwen, a retired teacher who taught English to speakers of other languages, helped found
the center because she realized that her students
often felt alone.
“I have met a lot of people who felt quite isolated in a foreign community,” she says. “Their
spouse goes to OSU and they have to stay at
home all day.”
She tells the story of a Korean student who
told her “sometimes I don’t talk to anyone and no
one talks to me.” So, says Curwen, he would go
into his apartment and talk aloud to himself.
Curwen wanted to create a place where those
from different cultures could meet, share, and improve their English. In October 2005 the center
opened as a nonprofit at 128 S.W. Ninth St. It has
no paid staff. Curwen, the director, volunteers her
time as well. All services are free, and the center
raises money through donations and fundraisers
such as garage sales. Curwen leases the house
— which sat empty for four years before volunteers painted and renovated it — for $1 a month
from OSU.
Most of the people who come to the center are
immigrants and refugees. But the center also offers classes on race and identity for multiracial
families and holds programs where schoolchildren come to learn about other cultures. Other
programs include quilting classes and Spanish
play groups.
The center’s cooking and culture classes are
very popular. For example, a Bulgarian woman
recently taught a class on how to prepare food
from her country. As she demonstrated she also
got to practice her English.
“We understand that it is really awkward for
people to strictly speak English when they don’t
know how,” Curwen says. “So in a cooking class
they can interact and practice their English without having to necessarily use complete sentences.
It is a much more relaxed environment.”
Alawia Aloof and Neama Lariel have never
gone to the cooking classes, but they go to the
center every week.
During a recent visit, they sit on a couch in the
middle of the center’s living room. On the mantel
in front of them is an array of objects from different cultures, two Mexican hats and textiles and a
wooden flute.
The women read in unison from an English
primer.
Aloof and Lariel are examples of the individuals who the center draws through its doors.
Lariel is an agriculturist from Libya who came
to Corvallis to get her doctorate in the same discipline. She can’t pursue her degree until she learns
English, so she is taking classes at OSU and also
practices her English at the center.
Lariel has been in America for just a year, so
there is still a lot of the language that she cannot
understand. Sometimes, she admits, she still gets
lost.
“When I listen to other people speaking English I close my ears because I don’t know what
they’re saying,” says the 35-year-old with a
friendly smile and hair covered by a silver hijab.
Aloof, a Sudanese refugee who lived in Egypt
for the five years before coming to America four
months ago, feels that the center has really helped
to build the relationships that she hadn’t been able
to find here.
Aloof speaks Arabic with Lariel, and also is
getting help from the center to transfer her nursing credentials.
Down the hall, Martina Huesca is practicing
her English reading comprehension and grammar. Huesca, a Mexican immigrant who speaks
English, has taken classes at the local community
college. But she appreciates learning English at
the center because the classes are free and she can
bring her children.
“It is flexible with kids and they have Latino
help,” said Huesca, a 29-year-old mother of
three.
Curwen says a large Spanish-speaking population lives north and south of the center. But
she says that people of color are often invisible
in Corvallis. In the past there wasn’t a place for
them to go. Now they have the center.
“People ask why do we need a multicultural
center in Corvallis, it’s not very diverse,” says
Curwen. “That is exactly why we need it.”
“You learn about other cultures when you’re writing. I did the garden story and I learned about my own culture.” – Danelly Muniz
ABOVE | Merced holds her baby, Angelica, as she studies English at the Corvallis Multicultural Literacy Center.
Merced speaks English but comes to the center several times a week to practice reading and comprehension.
P H O T O BY D E E P T H IK A E NN A M U RI
“You have more variety with people who have different perspectives.” – Omega Mathews
A grand
experiment
Backyard farming brings
neighbors together
By OMEGA MATHEWS
and ETA SANTORO
ABOVE | Meadow Goldman
raises chickens in addition to
growing vegetables in raised
beds. She shares the property
with her roommates.
P H O T Os B Y
Omega M athews
BELOW | Jay Thatcher and wife
Linda Johansen with their dogs
Pita (left) and Echo (right) in
front of their bean arch.
Online
To see a video about community
gardens in Corvallis, go to
and look for the headline
“A grand experiment.”
Buckets of wriggling worms. Horse troughs
on the patio. A kiddy pool inhabited by ducks.
Grapes on the roof. Strawberries 5 feet in the
air. A giant pile of compost. Llama dropping
“tea.”
These are all elements of a love affair taking
place in backyards across Corvallis.
Backyard farming isn’t just backyard farming to most people. It’s a hobby, a job and a
passion. Many gardeners also see it as working to make a difference in their communities
and the larger world by stepping up and helping people. The fact that it’s loved makes it a
“grand experiment,” in the words of several
Corvallis gardeners.
Two border collies break the tranquillity of
Linda Johansen and Jay Thatcher’s lush backyard. Under the shade of oak trees, the dogs
herd each other and a squirrel. Vegetables inhabit a long row of raised beds: lettuce, beans
and onions thrive in the summer afternoon.
The garden takes up more than a third of the
large plot.
Both Johansen and Thatcher gardened as
children and enjoy the privacy of their backyard farm. Recently they doubled the size of
their garden. “We have the space, we like eating fresh food,” Johansen said. The couple also
participates in the South Town Harvest and Resource Exchange (SHARE), where they meet
with other gardeners once a week to exchange
produce.
“It’s so much fun when you’re cooking dinner to just walk into the backyard and get an
onion or chard from the garden,” Johansen
said.
Across town, another kind of community
centers on their gardens.
Oakvilla Mobile Home Park, about five
miles from downtown Corvallis, is surrounded
by grass fields. At Oakvilla, some of the residents have private gardens, but a large community garden lies just beyond the community
building. James Paul Rodell is the manager of
the park’s community garden and also tends
his own garden surrounding his home.
In the past, interest would flag. By the end of
summer, most plots were choked with weeds.
When Rodell took on the garden about a year
ago, he increased interest, mostly through his
own enthusiasm.
Nine families have gardens, with each plot
reflecting the personality of its gardener. Some
decide to plant vegetables in neat rows. Others
experiment with planting squash in reclaimed
tires to keep the roots warm and increase yield.
Rodell shook his head at one abandoned garden devoured by weeds.
The easygoing park has only one garden
rule: Clean up your section at the end of the
season so bugs and pests don’t make a home in
the rotting material.
Residents at Oakvilla exchange produce and
give to food banks. “At first we talked about an
accounting system for trading produce,” Rodell recalled. But that quickly was abandoned
and now residents just leave extra produce near
the mailboxes for anyone who wants it.
Residents also participate in the Plant a Row
for the Hungry program. Rodell contributes
much of his produce and this season is growing
plants that will eventually produce more than
a ton of fresh squash for the program. “I’m
spending $100 a month on plants,” Rodell said,
joking that spending so much on his garden
“keeps me out of the bars and casinos.”
Rodell strolls through the park, visiting with
other gardeners. Roy Swayngim is in his mid80s. He and his wife, Barbara, were swept to
Oregon from their home in Louisiana by Hurricane Katrina. The elderly couple has an amazing but unusual garden display.
Lining the side of their house are plants in
brightly colored tubs, some stacked on top
of each other. A small greenhouse has leaves
poking out of it. Green grapes dangle from the
roof of the home, while strawberries are suspended below them. The Swayngims decided
that they wanted their garden to be convenient
for them. The high pots prevent them from
having to bend over or pluck relentless weeds.
Their commitment to gardening, born of Ray
Swayngim’s childhood on an apple orchard
and a lifetime of feeding their seven children,
still reigns.
Across the park a garden worthy a magazine cover frames the home of Bob and Judy
Talbott. The Talbotts take a creative approach
to containing and maintaining their garden.
Raised beds in plastic horse troughs line their
deck, and the excess water drains into the main
garden through a system Bob designed. He has
also rigged a drip system for watering so they
can travel during growing season.
“I look at it as a grand experiment,” said
Judy, who has more than 30 varieties of vegetables in her 10- by 25-foot plot, as well as
herbs and flowers. “I garden just for the joy,”
she said, adding, “I come out every morning
first thing and talk to my plants.”
Park residents are proud of their gardens,
and of their community, and were excited to
be featured in a news story. “You know, people
like us, who live in mobile home parks — trailer parks — we don’t get featured on the cover
of Vogue magazine,” said Rodell drily.
Sharing food is one thing. But Christine
Robins, a retired research scientist living in
southwest Corvallis, and her wife, Patricia
Parcells, take sharing a step further. They want
to share the land as well. Robins and Parcells
recently moved to Corvallis from Massachusetts specifically because it was a good climate
for backyard farming.
“We really wanted to be part of the community and have access to all the great things that
Corvallis has to offer,” Robins said. She and
Parcells are determined to turn their 1.25-acre
plot of land into a community resource.
They partner garden, sharing their land with
other families who don’t have land for gardening, and have interesting ways of managing it. Ducks eat slugs that kill plants, piles of
compost fertilize the land, and Robins uses a
custom-made scythe to chop down tall grass.
They plan to build a paved gathering place on
the corner so neighbors can relax together in
the shade. The couple has already planted several fruit and nut trees and plans to install even
more permaculture — trees and plants that provide food for more than one growing season.
“You don’t always have to own your own
land to garden ... you can make arrangements
with others,” Robins said, who expressed her
impatience with the long process needed to
create a community garden. Currently five
other families have garden plots on Robins and
Parcells’ land. “Don’t wait for some organization to give you approval to start gardening. It’s
probably going to take a long time. Just do it.”
Permaculture is the topic of a class held in
the garden of Tony Noble and his roommate,
Meadow Goldman, also of southwest Corvallis.
During the late morning, a group gathered in
the gravel lot behind their home. The yard is
mostly bare except for a group of raised beds
and white barrels in the center. Noble’s neighbor Andrew Millison leads the group on a tour
while three chickens peer curiously from their
coop in the corner. Noble and his roommates
try to grow most of the food they eat, much of
it in containers because they rent their house
and want to be able to transport their garden.
“I can grow better stuff than I can find in the
store,” Noble said, explaining his motivation,
“and I can find more varieties.” In addition to
the backyard farm, strawberries, rhubarb and
herbs grow in front, along with mushrooms in
a cardboard box on the porch.
“I think that even professional journalists aren’t willing to step out of their comfort zones.” – Olivia Jones-Hall
Sometimes the backyard farming community comes full circle. Robins is on the food
action team of the Corvallis Sustainability
Coalition with Rachel LovellFord, an environmental scientist who lives near the OSU campus. LovellFord partner gardens on Robins and
Parcells’ property, but that doesn’t keep her
from gardening in her own backyard.
“I really like ... working hard at something,”
said LovellFord, after explaining that it took
three weeks to clear the weeds from the yard
of the house she rents with her husband, a student at the university. “It’s kind of cool that I
can make a whole meal from what’s in my own
backyard.”
LovellFord calls herself a “hands-off” gardener. “We’re busy,” she explains, picking
weeds while chatting and flinging them over
the fence to three chickens they keep for eggs.
“The best thing about our yard is the chickens,
for sure, but also the raspberries.”
LovellFord and Robins recently completed
a neighborhood survey to link gardeners who
need plots with people who have extra land.
The group will begin meeting this month.
Gardening is a team effort. Neighbors build
bonds with each other and connect in their
communities. This new cycle links humans
and animals once again. There is also an attachment between the gardener and the plants.
“Gardening is like taking care of a kid,” said
Robins. “It takes a lot of time and effort.”
“More important than growing our food is
learning how to grow it. Even more important
is building community,” she continued.
Even if it means inviting your neighbor over
to share llama dropping “tea.”
ABOVE | This is “ELC” (Elsi), meaning “egg laying chicken,”
who lives in Rachel LovellFord’s yard. She’s one of three chickens
that tend to the weeds in the garden.
PHOTOs BY O mega Mathews
BELOW | These raspberries in Rachel LovellFord’s yard are a
delicacy, whether they are eaten raw or made into jam.
A struggling
economy and rising
costs have increased
people’s interest in
backyard farming.
According to the
National Gardening
Association:
• 31 percent of U.S.
households (36
million) garden
• Average annual
spending on garden
supplies: $70
• Reasons for
gardening: saving
money, better-tasting
food, food safety,
recession
• 33 million households
garden at home,
2 million partner
garden, and 1 million
garden in community
gardens
• Gardening households
increased by 21
percent from 2008
to 2009
• The most popular
plant is tomato
“Getting all aspects of something is what journalism is all about.” — Deepthika Ennamuri
Artist finds the
place she belongs
After years of giving in to the
expectations set by her teachers
and parents, one jewelry teacher
discovers the perfect way to express
her passion and share her wisdom
By Cynthia Chand
and Maricruz Gonzalez Vazquez
Angela Ajootian holds a handmade diamond-shaped pendant
decorated with stones, her hazel-green eyes never straying from
the piece of art she is buffing. Half of Ajootian’s long dreadlocks
are pinned up to avoid getting caught in the spinning wheel. Her
hair is ornamented with handcrafted jewelry that reflects the sunlight coming through the studio’s dusty window.
Art has been a part of Ajootian’s life since she began playing
with Lincoln Logs as a child. Currently, Ajootian, 33, shares her
passion as a teacher of jewelry-making at Oregon State University’s Craft Center. Along the way, Ajootian nearly lost sight of her
calling because of the standards society wanted her to follow. Her
experiences made her long for a life of nonconformity in which
she could have the freedom to express herself through art.
“I’ve always been an artist, I just didn’t always know it,” Ajootian said. “I think you’re born who you are.”
As an only child, Ajootian had to find ways to entertain herself. While playing with grass and making huts out of it, Ajootian
found a love for sculpting, building and crafting. She jokes that
she would pay to work at the Craft Center.
“I’m not here for the rock star paycheck,” said Ajootian, who
earns $10 an hour. “You could spend your life studying phlebotomy and then it changes and all your work goes down the tube.
I was really uncomfortable with doing something that could just
evaporate.”
For Ajootian, crafting jewelry and metal sculptures talks to her
in an ancestral way.
“I’ve found a richness, a satisfaction in this,” she said. “It’s
eternal. People have been playing with this for thousands and
thousands of years. And thousands and thousands of years from
now, we will still be playing with this.”
goal was to prepare students for “respectable careers” in medicine
or law, she said. Ajootian took Advanced Placement courses and
eventually enrolled as a pre-med undergraduate at Brown University in Providence, R.I.
Ajootian’s year at Brown was not a happy one, to say the least.
“I would walk by RISD [Rhode Island School of Design] and
smell the paint and gesso, and I would start crying,” Ajootian said.
“I would be like, ‘I should be here.’”
Ajootian took a leave of absence after her first year at Brown.
Two years later, she enrolled at the University of Oregon and became consumed by the metalsmithing and jewelry department.
“Art school is for all the people who can’t or won’t conform,”
Ajootian said. “My professor would try and explain things to me
and I understood. What she was saying made sense.”
Finding the Craft Center
Five years later, Ajootian found herself raising two daughters
and living in Corvallis.
Seeking a creative outlet, she found OSU’s Craft Center. Ajoo-
Balancing family and art
Ajootian has taught a Beginning Jewelry class once a week
for the past four years, juggling art with being a mother of now
three children,
“Through it all, Angela keeps her priorities straight,” Bourque
said. “I think that’s why she’s successful. Angela always puts
her family first.”
The responsibilities of having children have delayed Ajootian’s
plans to eventually teach art as a full-time profession. However,
she emphasizes that there is still time to start her master’s degree
in fine arts.
“I think people don’t realize that,” Ajootian said. “I think people are 24 and in their cubicle with their 401(k) and I think that
sucks.”
Ajootian says that people should learn about themselves before embarking on a career. She has done this herself by dabbling
in different mediums of art, including textiles and weaving.
“Give her strings and a loom, and tell her to create something,
and she can do it,” Bourque said. “Any medium tossed at Angela,
she can do.”
Ajootian welcomes a good challenge. She was once assigned
to build a cylinder in a metalworking class, but she wanted to
build a more practical object — a lamp.
“My teacher said, ‘No, you can’t do it, it’s too advanced,’ and I
hate it when people say that to me,” Ajootian said. “So I did it.”
Many times, Ajootian’s art also has practical purposes; she recently built a split-level ranch house out of Lincoln Logs for her
two daughters.
Her worlds of art and family often intertwine. In the studio,
after 20 minutes of using fire to fuse a piece of copper, Ajootian
puts down the torch to comfort her crying 4-month-old boy. She
takes him in her arms and rocks him on her eroded work table.
He smiles.
This is the generation Ajootian hopes to influence with her
art.
Online
To see a video about Oregon State University’s Craft Center, go to
blog.oregonlive.com/teen and look for the headline “Artist
finds the place she belongs.”
Pressure to conform
There was a time when Ajootian caved in to pressure from
adults who thought they knew what was best for her. Ajootian’s
stepdad came from a line of Harvard University graduates. Her
Native American mother wanted more for her than what was
available for people on the Ojibwe of White Earth reservation in
Minnesota. After some time in Rhode Island the family moved
to the Ashland area, where Ajootian attended a private Catholic
school from sixth grade to the end of high school. The school’s
tian taught a class of middle school students about moving sculptures. That class eventually progressed into the jewelry and metal
program.
Ajootian was crucial in developing the jewelry program from
its bare bones, said Susan Bourque, the center’s manager.
“Angela is someone who can see 10 possible solutions to one
problem,” Bourque said.
Ajootian’s former student Corinne Duncan said Ajootian’s
class was enjoyable because of her “patience and persistence”
philosophy.
“At first I thought Angela was a bit disorganized, but if you
watch closely, there is method in her madness from which there
is a lot to learn,” said Duncan, 27, the center’s enameling teacher.
“I gained a new sense of self-confidence that has made it easier
for me to explore new activities.”
Craft Center hours
Monday - Friday 1 to 10 p.m.
Saturday and Sunday 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Contact Information
The Craft Center offers many community classes, including
a ceramics class for young campers.
photo by Cyn th i a Cha n d
10 Memorial Union East
Corvallis, OR 97331
Telephone: (541) 737-2937 | E-mail: [email protected]
Web site: http://mu.oregonstate.edu/craft
Craft Center offers a cycle of learning and teaching
By Cynthia Chand
The sound of pottery wheels spinning is barely audible over
the voices of the 22 excited children milling around Oregon State
University’s Craft Center. Kids wearing clay-splattered aprons
eagerly watch as their instructor crafts a pot on his throwing
wheel. On the other side of the room, two boys are seated at a
metal work bench as they mold a model graveyard.
The center, founded 38 years ago, is hosting campers through
OSU’s Kid Spirit program. In a few hours, open studio will begin
and the center’s adult members will be free to work in the ceramics studio, as well as on looms, in the darkroom and in a variety
of other workspaces.
The center, which began in the basement of OSU’s Memorial
Union Ballroom, has evolved into 7,000 square feet of studio and
classroom space in Memorial Union East. As a self-sufficient organization, the center relies on student association fees, membership fees and fundraisers to pay for equipment and materials.
“The teachers are all here because they love to teach and
share,” said Susan Bourque, the center’s manager and only fulltime employee.
Angela Ajootian, who has taught Beginning Jewelry at the
center for four years, embodies the approachability of her colleagues.
“Whenever someone says, ‘I have a question,’ I always say, ‘I
have an answer,’” Ajootian said. “It might not be a good answer,
but I will engage in that conversation with you.”
Corinne Duncan, one of Ajootian’s former students, joined the
center when she was a student at OSU.
“It was nice to have something different than academics,”
Duncan said. “I like the welcoming atmosphere. It’s a nice place
for students to meet nonstudents and relieve stress.”
Duncan is one of several students who have returned to the
center as teachers. Chip Hand, one of the center’s ceramics teachers, was a member for two years before he began teaching. “The
center is perfect for me,” Hand said. “It’s a nice place to go and
be creative and constructive instead of just hanging around on a
rainy day and watching TV.”
Like Hand, who was a biology major, many students and community members use the space as an affordable social and creative outlet. Anyone 16 or older can pay $30 per term to become
a member. Membership includes access seven days a week to
equipment and materials, and allows enrollment in classes for an
additional fee.
On a sunny summer day, the south classroom waits. Light
streams through the large windows of the former cafeteria, dancing across multiple looms and work tables. Shelves stocked with
yarn, glass, paint and fabric line the walls. In the center of the
room, a few couches are set around an orange table strewn with
books such as “The American Quilt Story” and “Popular Photography.” The scene is interrupted by the sounds of children laughing from across the hall as they file out of the ceramics studio.
Their instructor gathers their work and prepares it for the kiln so
it will be ready when the kids return tomorrow.
“Without diversity in newsrooms, it would separate us both from trying to grow and trying to make it a better place.” — Nora Sanchez
Angela Ajootian often brings her 4-month-old son, Galen, to the metalsmithing and jewelry workshop at the OSU Craft Center.
photo by C y n th i a C hand
“Diversity is the cornerstone of a successful society.” — Melody Wymer
ABOVE | Youths stretch
before their physical
education activities.
Detention center staff
typically give them words
of encouragement or
cheer them on during
basketball games or
running exercises.
LEFT | Youths walk in
the center’s yard before
warming up for physical
education. It is one of
two sessions where the
youths get to be outside.
They sometimes play
basketball, run or walk
laps, or toss footballs.
P hotos by
D o r a M a r cha n d
“Diversity is not just about outward appearances — it is about life experiences we each bring.” — Ann Robinson
Detention center:
a little less boot camp, a little more compassion
Linn-Benton juvenile
detention staff encourage
youths to improve decisionmaking, change life goals
“I think there are kids
in here that might
not admit it, but end
up here because they
feel safe.”
By Ariel Barrientos and
Dora Marchand
On the court, 10 youths play a basketball
shooting game. Staff members in red shirts
and black slacks clap and cheer them on.
“Great shot!” they shout.
The youths grin with each compliment.
Soon, the game ends and the youths,
dressed in orange T-shirts and light gray
sweats, line up. They stare forward, hands to
their sides, waiting for the next command.
“Face this way! Step in!”
“Yes, sir,” the youths say.
Then, it’s back to their isolated cells, where
the laughs stop and the silence begins.
The youths are locked up in the Linn-Benton Juvenile Detention Center, a sterile, prison-like building on the outskirts of Albany
built in 1997.
People here have committed felonies including, rape, burglary and assault, and some
misdemeanors. Some await court hearings.
About 375 youths are held in the detention
center each year, with 60 percent returning
for multiple visits.
“We are really holding the most serious 20
kids” in the two counties, said Troy Fuller,
the detention center manager.
Ten years ago, the connection between
staff and students was much different. They
didn’t play fun basketball games with staff.
Instead, they’d run in circles in the center’s
caged play yard.
When students misbehaved, staff would
have forced the youths to stand with their
noses to the wall for periods of time or would
order them to do high numbers of push-ups.
The approach changed about a decade ago,
when staff decided to stray from a strict boot
camp approach to one that uses therapy and
encourages youths to make better life decisions.
They switched to cognitive restructuring,
which helps change negative thinking into a
positive outlook.
The majority of Oregon’s 15 detention
centers offer a similar approach with their
youths.
“Boot camp is not effective,” said Kathy
Brennan, the custody services manager at
Multnomah County Juvenile Services Division. She said current research about the juvenile justice system says that kids who are
taught encouraging thoughts change their
lives around.
A new approach
Several years after the detention center
opened, a new manager arrived. Martin Bochenek wanted staff to try a new technique.
Instead of boot camp and barking orders, he
wanted staff to connect with youths to help
turn their lives around.
Bochenek died of cancer in August 2004,
but his replacement, Fuller, decided to continue Bochenek’s approach because he said it
was successful.
Youths are not looked at as criminals or bad
people during their stay in the 20-bed facility.
Staff says they want to change youths’ risky
thoughts that lead to making bad decisions.
“We don’t want these kids to come back,”
said Torri Lynn, the Linn County Juvenile
Steve Willis
Jaime Doty, a staff member at the Linn-Benton Juvenile Detention Center in Albany, reminds
a youth about making good decisions. Doty pulled the boy aside after he broke a center rule.
Danté Lewis (right) a probation and parole
officer with the Oregon Youth Authority,
escorts an 18-year-old (center) out of the
detention center. The 18-year-old was being transferred to a correctional facility for
up to four to six months for violating his
probation.
Youths sit in two rows and take off their tennis shoes after a physical education session at
the center. Their everyday uniforms include gray sweatpants and orange T-shirts.
Department director who oversees the center.
“We want them to fix their mistakes and go
on with life.”
The youths, who typically range from 12 to
18, receive worksheets to help identify their
problems and why they make poor choices.
One sheet, a cost-benefit analysis, requires
them to pick a problem and identify positive
and negative effects in the short and long
term.
Staff make sure a youth’s detention is not
a fun experience. All privileges and personal
items are taken away. No Facebook, MySpace
or television. No cigarettes, cell phones or iPods.
One 15-year-old girl said she misses her
freedom. (Names of youths are being withheld because of privacy restrictions at the
center.) She’s been in the detention center
six or seven times before — she’s lost count.
This time, she violated her probation.
“I miss watching ‘South Park’ and ‘Family Guy,’” the girl said as she ate her lunch
of a grilled cheese sandwich, salad, soup and
animal crackers. The girl said she also misses
her friends and family and cigarettes.
Youths are only allowed to write two letters
per week and see friends or family through
glass windows during visiting hours.
All youths spend about six hours a day in
the detention center’s school, which is a oneroom classroom filled with several computers
and piled with books on writing, math and
history.
Steve Willis, the full-time teacher, said that
most students have fallen behind academically when they arrive. He said they sometimes learn more in detention than at their
own schools.
“I think there are kids in here that might
not admit it, but end up here because they feel
safe,” Willis said.
Students have limited free time when they
can read books and magazines, sometimes in
their cells — a coat closet-sized room with a
green mattress the thickness of a phone book.
A metal toilet sits in the corner of the cell.
There is no privacy for the youths; staff can
peek through slender windows on cell doors
at any time.
Life changes
On a mid-June afternoon, one 18-year-
old boy sits at a school desk in front of the
cells. He wears a black T-shirt with “Misfits”
scrolled across the back, jeans and black Adidas shoes. He’s been in and out of the juvenile system since he was 14, when he began
stealing items from garages and cars.
His probation officer will escort him to a
correctional facility, where he will spend another four to six months.
He said he liked the freedom he will get
in the correctional facility, but preferred the
Linn-Benton staff.
“I like the staff a lot more here,” he said.
“They actually try to help you become a better person.”
He’s spent some time in the Marion County
Jail, where he realized adults are treated differently than youths. He never got a pillow
during his stay and said he spent 23 hours
a day in his cell. The soft-spoken boy, who
doesn’t make eye contact, said he realized
he had to change his life because he doesn’t
want to be in the justice system forever.
“I really think I’ll make it right this time,”
he said. “If I don’t, I don’t know what I’ll
do.”
“It is important for a student newsroom to have diversity, so it can represent everyone who attends the school.” — Kami Hammerschmith
“I try to be an ambassador for what I believe in.” — Stephanie Yao Long
Past and present blur in the heart of Corvallis
A skateboarder takes advantage of the friendly feel of Second Street.
Longtime Corvallis resident Larry Plum stops by the furniture store while on a walk with his dog.
ph o t o b y S h a n n o n Cox
P h o t o by Ro s a I n o c e n ci o S m i t h
From pioneer days, through fires and downturns,
to a new boom of businesses, Second Street runs
through the middle of a city’s history
By Shannon Cox
and Rosa inocencio smith
It
began as a wagon road. Deep ruts from
wheels and oxen running the length of
the street, wooden plank sidewalks rising
above the muck.
Out of the dirt rose a schoolhouse, a tavern, grocery stores and livery stables. The
early settlers of Corvallis, who walked its
length in the 1840s and 1850s, considered it their Main
Street. Officially, it was called Second Street.
Over the next 160 years, the street would grow to become the center of their community, only to be forgotten
for a time, and then rediscovered.
***
Recently, Corvallis was accepted to participate in the
Oregon Main Street Program, part of a national effort
to revitalize traditional small downtown communities.
By focusing on local business practices and historic
preservation, the program hopes to reawaken the community connections that once took place at the heart of
many small towns. Often right on Main Street — or, in
the case of Corvallis, Second Street.
“Downtowns are all unique,” says Gary Van Huffel,
Oregon Main Street Program coordinator. “I think they
invite you to explore.”
***
A walk down Second Street has many twists and
turns. On your way to the gift store, you double back
to visit a theater. Stopping by a deli, you wander into
a brewery. Often, you find yourself headed toward a
destination different from the one you expected.
Such is the case for Dave Marliave, “brew maestro”
at the Oregon Trail Brewery, located on Second Street in
back of the Old World Deli. Marliave was a political science major at Southern Oregon University when he had
an epiphany over — and about — beer. Friends at OSU
told him about the fermentation sciences department. A
few weeks later, he transferred to OSU and enrolled in
the program.
Then he joined Oregon Trail Brewery. Now, Marliave, along with “pigmeister” and fellow employee
Todd Henderson, moves gracefully through the cramped
and low-ceilinged room that holds the tools of their livelihood. “Pigs” — small party kegs — line the far wall,
and the narrow space between the half-full bucket of wet
hops, the coiled rubber hoses and the metal barrels of
beer is permeated with the bitter aroma of fermentation.
Outsiders stumble, bump their heads on the staircase
and wrinkle their noses at the smell. But Marliave and
Henderson love their jobs. As Marliave says, he is “passionate” about beer.
Beer is much more than just a beverage to these two.
“Beer,” Marliave says, “is alive,” and you never know
exactly what it will do. The vats where fermentation
take place are named for girlfriends and pets of past and
present maestros as well as employees of the nearby
deli: Bella, Tanya, Mabel, Fay and Betty, to name a few.
“Betty talks,” Marliave says, referring to the vat that
is known for her “moans and groans” and her tendency
toward implosion.
About two and a half years ago, a welder named
Wendell brought her back from “the size of three basketballs” using a hammer and a blowtorch. However, Bella
is Marliave’s favorite — among the vats, she is the most
cooperative.
They sell most of their beer in town at restaurants
like the Old World Deli and American Dream Pizza. For
deliveries, they sometimes push the beer down the street
in a handcart. “You meet all kinds of interesting people,”
Henderson says.
Please see next page
S h annon Cox
Katie, a collie and springer mix, sits and enjoys the shade as she waits for her owner,
Larry Plum, to exit a store.
R os a Inoc e nci o S m i t h
Friends gather at The Beanery for coffee. Adam Beam (second from right,
with back to camera) finds the changes in his hometown, such as the new
high-rise across the street, “kind of disappointing.”
“Creating newsrooms filled with diversity isn’t just the right thing to do. It’s good journalism.” — Steve Woodward
F.A. Alexander
and a man
identified only
as a friend pose
on the sidewalk
of Second Street
in a photograph
taken in 1897.
F. A. Alexander
had a store on
Second.
Amy Peters
(left) and Mark
Irons meet with
their weekly
knitting group
at the Old
World Deli.
L o ra
A lex an de r /
C ou r tesy
Be n ton C ou n ty
H i stor ical
photo by
S oci ety &
S ha n n o n Co x
M useum
Downtown
Continued from previous page
In July of 1869, a fire thought to be started
by an arsonist destroyed two blocks of Second
Street between the through-streets of Madison
and Monroe.
While multiple buildings, including
two blacksmith shops and a saddlery were
destroyed, most of the buildings to fall were
saloons. It is estimated that five saloons were
destroyed.
Just a year later, another fire burned down
the Corvallis brewery.
Then, in 1883, a fire on the same block as
in 1869 destroyed an empty blacksmith shop,
a laundry and still more saloons.
***
It’s like someone’s dressing table exploded
into a store called Inside Out Garden Visions,
a few blocks north of the brewery, part of a
booming cluster of businesses.
There are polka-dotted pillows and flowerpatterned tea sets, birdbaths, coffee tables and
racks of greeting cards. Wind chimes of metal
and colored glass jangle just higher than eye
level.
Owner Susan MacNeil hadn’t planned on
opening a business. She used to work in construction accounting but wasn’t satisfied with
her life. Over a glass of wine with her business
partner, she made a life-altering decision. She
quit her job and opened a store.
She sanded the floors down to 100-year-old
Douglas fir planks. She stocked her shelves
with the kinds of gifts she likes to buy for her
friends, created a place that “sounds good,
smells good, feels good.”
After five and a half years on Second Street,
she says it’s “still fun to come in every day.”
To her, Second Street provides for the needs
of the community, not as a “corporate park” but
as the people’s “gathering place.”
“People actually live here, work here, eat
here and know everybody,” she says.
Before she and her fellow entrepreneurs arrived, “it wasn’t a Main Street,” MacNeil says
with a laugh. “We made it a Main Street.”
***
Even after the fires, Second Street was
always able to rebuild.
Soon it boasted the first brick buildings in
Corvallis, the first concrete sidewalk, the first
telephone company and the first auto sales lot.
But as cars became more common, the livery
stables disappeared, as did the saddleries
and blacksmith shops. Garages and service
stations opened in their place. New businesses
opened on Third and Fourth streets, and the
customers followed.
Second Street fell into disrepair.
***
Ask anyone in town about Corvallis history
and they will refer you to the owner of Old
World Deli, Ted Cox.
An avid history buff, he can quote historic
documents from memory and talk at length
about Sanborn maps, early transportation
routes and the treatment of Asian immigrants.
Cox is a modest man, casually referencing
the source of his extensive knowledge: ”I know
that ‘cause I wrote this book about it.”
Similar to some of his fellow Second Street
business owners, Cox’s winding and unpredictable path has never taken him exactly where he
expected to go.
After college in Southern California, Cox
joined the Peace Corps and went to Sierra
Leone, where he worked in a teachers’ training
college. On his second tour, he went to Belize
and coached track and field, working with a
runner for “the Olympics thing” in Munich.
In 1973, he was given a scholarship to OSU
to go to graduate school and eventually earned
his master’s degree in physical education.
Cox nurtured a short-lived dream of returning to Belize. However, when he opened the
Old World Deli in 1977, he realized that his
place was in Corvallis, on Second Street in a
building that was one of the city’s earliest auto
garages.
Now, instead of teaching in Belize, he gives
informal history lessons every day to amused
and grateful customers. Instead of building
community overseas, he hosts community in
his restaurant.
For about five years, a knitting group has
been meeting every Tuesday at Old World Deli.
Sitting around a table on the raised dais in the
corner of the restaurant, Amy Peters, Mark
Irons, Laura White and Sandy Drewes drink
coffee, eat brownies and talk about life.
Drewes: “The discussions range from silly
jokes from joke books all the way to serious
political discussions.”
Peters: “We’re kind of like our own little
community.”
All of the members chose to join the group
because of an already-established connection.
Irons used to work with the founders of the
group at a computer software company they
left because of downsizing. They were the ones
who taught him how to knit.
Drewes started knitting after she met White,
who says she was dragged into it by Peters,
whose teacher was always talking about this
knitting club.
A certain undeniable symmetry is present
among the knitters. Drewes’ periwinkle top is
complimented by the weaving colors of her
light blue and magenta yarn; White’s simple
forest green T-shirt brought the eye to an exact
match in her tiny, delicate knitting. Irons’ yarn,
which he keeps saying he hates, blends into his
flowing brown beard; Peters is wearing fiery
orange and knitting fiery red. Each one has
wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of
his or her nose.
They’ve always met at the Old World Deli,
and they’re not quite sure why they keep coming. It could be the atmosphere — the quiet
— the way the owner comes out to chat with
his customers.
When all is said and done, though, the
answer is simple: “Great brownies.”
***
For a time, Second Street was “pretty dark
and scary and vacant,” says Joan Wessell,
executive director of the Downtown Corvallis
Association and coordinator of the town’s
participation in the Oregon Main Street Program. With boarded up windows and no one on
the street, Wessell remembers that women in
particular were wary of walking that stretch of
road at night.
Wessell, whose eyes well with tears as she
speaks about her community (“I just have a real
spot in my heart for preserving and protecting
our downtown”), focused her efforts on the old
core of the town. MacNeil, of Inside Out, calls
her “the cheerleader for Corvallis.”
Wessell has a simple formula: Downtown is
the core, the core is the heart and “if your heart
isn’t healthy, then you aren’t healthy.”
Attention refocused on Second Street, and
the heart started beating again.
***
Outside the Majestic Theatre, an old woman
stands on the star-studded sidewalk. She leans
heavily on the cane clutched in her right hand
as she gazes at the star in the ground that bears
her name: Estora Ricks Moe.
At 98 years old, she represents a time in
the theater’s past that not many remember. A
time when the Majestic was the main theater
in town, when the dressing rooms were in the
basement that is now considered a fire hazard.
She remembers how, as a college student, she
cut out a formal dress while waiting in the
wings.
Now that the theater is owned by the city,
Moe has donated money to this historical place
where she used to perform, as signified by her
star embedded in the sidewalk.
A little farther down, at the south end of Second Street, the road becomes the line between
two sharply contrasting buildings. On the east,
a brand-new high-rise looms over the sidewalk,
all dark metal and smooth concrete and shiny,
empty windows. On the west, a coffee shop
— The Beanery — spills people from its purple
stucco doorways.
The six-story high-rise once housed a highend spa and restaurant, 7Stones and Strega, but
both of these businesses have closed in the past
year.
It’s a strikingly modern vision of what Second Street could be, compared to the homey
and colorful storefronts that have managed to
endure.
From his chair in front of the Beanery, Adam
Beam, 21, says, “The less concrete we can
have in a town like this, the better — it takes
away from the community.”
Up and down Second Street, life goes on:
A man on a cell phone reaches down to pet
his dog, two old friends sip iced drinks in the
window of a bakery, three girls walk down the
sidewalk holding hands. And an old woman
looks down and thinks about what was here
before.
“Many points of view make all of us richer, and make us better thinkers as we evaluate our own experience and our larger world.” — Kate Moore
“Right now, the world is changing,
but the schools are not changing.
Children need to understand the
world around them.”
– Meika Vengelen
Cultivating sustainability
in the next generation
At The Avery House, kids
have fun while absorbing
information that will let
them live lighter
By Mariela Miller
and Carlie Deltoro
In
the back of the lush, green,
flower-filled garden of The
Avery House, a group of
10 children circle up and
play a game.
“What kinds of things
do humans do to take away
resources?” asked Meika Vingelen, nature
program director.
“We build tall buildings! We hunt animals! We cut down trees!” the children
screamed.
In the heart of Avery Park, a small blue
house stands. The Avery House focuses on
kids ages 2 to 14 with nature-based activities and lessons on sustaining the environment for the future. The mission is to make
younger children aware of the environment
before their minds and ways are set in
wasteful habits.
“Right now, the world is changing, but
the schools are not changing,” Vingelen said. “Children need to understand the
world around them.”
Vingelen thinks children, instead of facing the environment, should understand
how to “live with the environment,” by
practicing things like recycling, responsible
energy use and composting.
The kids learn about the animals in their
environment by playing games, doing art
projects and having group discussions on
such topics as identifying animals based on
their skulls.
Predator vs. Prey is a game where children chase each other and role-play two
groups of animals to show how predators
take over prey.
In a resource game, the children stand in
a circle, with pieces of paper labeled with
resources in the middle; they then race to
grab as many as they can. From this activity they learn about animals with limited
amounts of food, shelter and water and how
some animals die if they don’t get the re-
sources they need.
“I like learning about animals,” said Nehalia Irvine, 7, who attends the program
and says she likes smelling the markers she
uses to draw animal masks.
The Avery House has just celebrated its
15th anniversary and has nearly doubled
enrollment every year since 2004. Last year
it served 922 children.
The program has added two new classes,
such as the “Go Green Challenge” later this
summer, which will teach children how to
decrease their impact on the environment.
Kids will learn about alternative energy,
fuel sources, recycling and the effect humans have on the Earth.
Kamolluck Tratend brings her son and
daughter, 6 and 4, to the center to help them
become closer to nature and learn about the
environment.
“The kids come home and talk to me
about animals that I didn’t even know
about,” she said.
When walking in the white door of The
Avery House, kids are ready to learn about
the nature that surrounds them daily. The
animals housed there are used as learning
tools. When the children learn about metamorphosis and animal habits, the garter
snake and the mouse are there to help them
understand. A tortoise, a bullfrog, newts
and walking sticks are used to teach the
children about different types of animals.
“I like frogs,” said Spencer Vingelen, 6,
as he held a cow skull the kids were learning about. His mother is the director.
A state grant, community donations and
class fees fund The Avery House. A week
of five full days at The Avery House costs
about $150, while a week of half-days is
$90. Financial aid is available.
There are three employees and two volunteers at The Avery House. If she had more
volunteers, Vingelen would like to expand
the program into elementary schools because she thinks sustainability is not taught
young enough or widely enough. She would
like to start an after-school “green program”
with elementary school children to teach
the ideas of The Avery House.
Parents and grandparents appreciate The
Avery House mission.
“I feel nature is so important,” said Steve
Barrnet, grandfather of Lev, a new student
at the center. “It will heighten their interest
and knowledge to live better as adults.”
Vingelen reaches for a cherry in the garden behind The Avery
House. After playing a game about animals, the children took a
break to have a snack.
Aden Vingelen, 8, holds a worm from a compost pile. All of the children excitedly gathered
for a look.
photos by C arli e D eltoro
Want to volunteer?
Go to The Avery House Web site for more info. www.corvallisenvironmentalcenter.org/AHNC/index.html
Or call Meika Vingelen at (541) 758-6198
“A newspaper without diversity is a newspaper that refuses — to its own peril — to be a part of the world.” — Nikole Hannah-Jones
Five high school students share their opinions on new requirements for high school diplomas, such as earning additional credits, taking
more rigorous courses and reaching state benchmarks. The new requirements start July 1.
“It’s a good
idea, but it could
build up lots of
pressure for the
students.”
“It’s unfair to
make students
take more
classes they
don’t need.”
— Madison Brant, 14,
freshman at Crescent Valley High
School in Corvallis
— Nate Barrett, 16, junior at
Crescent Valley High School
“I’m smart but,
no.”
— Amelia Winter, 14, freshman
at Crescent Valley High School
“It’s not really
“I can see where
good for
they’re going
students, but
with math,
it encourages
because people
students to work will use math in
harder toward
real life.”
— Kevin McDaniel, 19,
graduation.”
Crescent Valley High School graduate
— Jacinto Sepulveda, 16, junior
at Harrisburg High School
Students brace themselves
for higher graduation bar
By Alex Chan and Olyvia Chac
Zack Zaremba, 16, believes Oregon’s new diploma requirements will inspire students unsure
about college to do better in school.
“The kids who want to go to college won’t
get affected,” said the junior from Crescent Valley High School, but for those who aren’t sure
if they’re smart enough “it’s good to encourage
them to graduate.”
Zaremba worries more students may drop out.
He also believes most students at his school want
to learn and that more credits should be mandatory in all subjects.
Theresa Levy, education specialist for the
Oregon Department of Education, explained the
growing credit requirements. Starting with the
class of 2010, students must complete:
• Four English credits
• Three math credits
Starting with the class of 2012, students will also
be required to complete:
• Three inquiry-based science credits, applying
scientific reasoning and critical thinking to investigations and using the scientific method to
explain their thinking. At least two of the credits must be based in nature or a laboratory using
hands-on experiments.
John Niedermann (left), the Machine Tool Technology chairman at Linn-Benton Community
College, and Tyrell Rankin (right), 15, a home-schooler, make a computer design that will be
engraved on a box and lid. Niedermann coordinates the college’s technical career exploration program for high school students, who now face higher diploma requirements.
“Students today need to be competitive with
the rest of the world,” Levy said.
The Corvallis School District is not changing
the number of credits needed to graduate, said
Mike Strowbridge, the district’s instructional
services coordinator. The 24-credit requirement
remains the same, he said, but the district is escalating the number of credits in certain subjects
to meet the new state law.
Strowbridge says it’s important for students
to be ready for the diploma requirements before they enter high school. If they don’t get a
jump start with their primary education, he said,
• Three credits of a second language, the arts,
and/or career and technical education.
photo by Alex C ha n
students will never get to the required harder
courses and meet benchmarks on the Oregon
Assessment of Knowledge and Skills.
“It causes a ripple effect,” Strowbridge said.
“If students are not learning the material in elementary school, it widens the gap and makes it
harder for students to pass the OAKS.”
Students who don’t pass the OAKS assessment in their sophomore year get multiple
chances to try again until the end of senior year,
Strowbridge said. If a student does not pass the
OAKS in time, he or she is given the option to
take a district-based assessment. These assessments include math problems and in-depth reading responses that demonstrate what students
have learned.
Strowbridge expects the district’s dropout rate
to remain the same because the total credits will
not be changed. However, he does expect the
percentage of delayed graduations — of students
needing to make up credits in summer school before they get their diplomas — to increase.
Advisers and counselors must make sure to
reach out to students who aren’t on track, Strowbridge said. They are there to help the students
academically and emotionally.
“This would help ensure that students will not
be surprised,” Strowbridge said.
Incoming freshman Kat Zaremba will have an
advantage.
She will soon join brother Zack at Crescent
Valley High School, where he will graduate two
years ahead of her. Her class of 2013 will have
to meet the even-higher requirements that start
in 2012.
She’s already heard from her brother how the
principal comes into class and talks about the
changes to diploma requirements.
The 13-year-old already has ideas on how students should be assessed before graduation.
“I think it’s OK if students can take the test
multiple times, but there should be a different
way to assess students because some people
don’t like writing things down on a test,” she
said. “Some people like hands-on assessments,
like labs or making designs on a computer.”
“The student paper is supposed to be the voice of the student body, so it needs to include all the different voices of that community.” – Nerissa Ediza
Online
To see a video about minor league baseball in
Keizer, go to blog.oregonlive.com/teen and
look for the headline “Support off the field leads
to production on the field.”
Host mom Linda Pantalone (left) and family friend Karl Miller (right) cheer for the
Volcanoes as they enter the field for the
first inning of opening day at Volcanoes
Stadium on Tuesday, June 23. As a host
mom, Pantalone provides a place for first
baseman C.J. Zeigler to live while playing
for the Volcanoes.
P hotos by J ames Chavez
Support off the field leads to
production on the field
Minor league players
receive help from host
families and team faculty
to make their lives easier
while they try to reach the
major leagues
By James Chavez
and Luisa anderson
KEIZER – Salem–Keizer outfielder Ryan
Mantle sits on a metal bench beneath the
stands outside the team’s clubhouse at Volcanoes Stadium. With a towel draped over
his neck and sweat still on his face following a pre–game workout, Mantle takes the
opportunity to call his girlfriend, Stephanie,
back home in St. Louis, Mo., nearly 2,100
miles away.
“I rarely get a chance to call her,” Mantle,
22, said. “It’s too late to talk to her after the
game because of the time difference, so I
usually come out to talk to her.”
Mantle is not alone. Many other minor
league players like him are away from home
this summer pursuing their dream of reaching
the major leagues. But for many, that pursuit
is worth the sacrifice and the team does what
they can to make their lives easier.
Setting up in a new city can be difficult.
The players are miles away from home trying their best to reach the major leagues.
Some say they often get homesick.
“You always miss your family, but you
try to get them to come out here once in the
summer and it usually helps,” Mantle said.
The players are not on their own adjusting to their new setting. The Volcanoes provide them with a support system in the form
of host families, who put a roof over their
heads and supply them with food.
In order to find a good match, players and
Volcanoes outfielder Ryan Mantle (right) jogs in from the outfield with teammate Dan Cook
(left) following pre-game warm-ups Tuesday, June 23. Mantle spends extra time practicing
to improve his skills in hopes of reaching the major leagues.
host families fill out questionnaires and the
organization uses that information to find
some common interests, according to Jerry
Howard, Volcanoes senior marketing account executive.
“If someone likes to fish, we try to put
them with people who like to fish,” he said.
“We also try to have homes where there is a
Spanish speaker for the players who speak
Spanish.”
Mantle’s teammate, first baseman C.J.
Zeigler, 23, lives with Linda Pantalone and
her husband, Mike. From doing his laundry
to driving him to the doctor, the Pantalones
take care of Zeigler’s basic needs.
“I’ve picked up girlfriends from airports,”
Pantalone said. “I haven’t done that for him
yet, but in the past that’s a huge thing because they’re usually at the field.”
During his downtime, Zeigler and the
Pantalones play videogames, watch movies
and eat dinner together. Pantalone said she
conducted an extensive interview with Zei-
gler to discover his likes and dislikes. All of
the food she buys is based on the food Zeigler likes to eat. The Pantalones also watch
all of Zeigler’s games.
The Pantalones, whose grown children
left the house a long time ago, have household rules Zeigler must abide by.
“Don’t get drunk and throw up on the
floor,” Pantalone said. “Don’t drink and
drive.”
Zeigler must let the family know when he
invites friends over for dinner.
“It’s a respect thing,” Pantalone explained.
“Treat my house like you would your parents’.”
She said that most of the players she has
encountered are focused on their dreams.
In the six years she has hosted athletes, few
have violated her rules.
“It doesn’t promote those goals that they
have,” she said.
Mantle and two teammates live with another host family, who he said provide great
meals. So great, that it “seems like after every game we get there and clean the fridge
out, and they have to provide a whole other
meal for us,” he said.
The players also receive help from the
organization staff. Howard says he tries to
make the players as comfortable as possible.
He said he helps the players with directions.
The team also has a barber that gives free
haircuts.
Dave Nelson is the team’s clubhouse attendant, whom the players refer to as a “clubby.” He maintains the clubhouse, cleans the
uniforms and chooses the food the players
eat at the stadium.
The San Francisco Giants, the parent club
of the Volcanoes, send Salem-Keizer’s clubby a list of food for the players to eat that
restricts junk food. From that list, Nelson
chooses what to prepare.
The players are on the field by 2:30 p.m.
for pre-game warm-ups and batting practice.
During this time, Nelson sets up the pregame food, which usually consists of egg
salad, tuna fish, peanut butter and jelly, turkey and ham sandwiches. The players return
to the clubhouse about 5 to eat. Nelson also
provides a post-game meal, with foods such
as enchiladas, spaghetti and lasagna.
“At this level, they’re happy with what
they get,” Nelson said. “When they work
their way up, things will get a little nicer for
them.”
More gourmet meals are not the only perk
of making it to the major leagues, which
each player knows is going to be a struggle.
Being in one of the lowest levels of professional baseball, reaching the major league is
merely a pipe dream for most. Players must
stay focused, and put in extra work. Mantle
said he spends hours at the batting cages to
work on his swing and lifts weights to work
on his strength and to add power. For Mantle, failing is not an option.
He approaches the game with no doubt
that he is going to make it.
“You have to be confident and do your
best,” he said.
Some players are prepared for the worst.
Zeigler said if his baseball career fails, he
will return to complete his education at the
University of Arizona where he played before the Giants drafted him in 2008.
“You always got to make sure you have a
fallback because nothing’s set in stone out
here,” Zeigler said. “Anything can happen
on any given day.”
“Without diversity in newsrooms, Americans will lose out on accuracy and more. It’s a matter of information, insight and illumination.” — Maya Blackmun
Community garden helps fight
obesity epidemic among Latinos
Hirlanda Nuñez (left) and Magdaleno Nuñez plant pea seeds on their garden plot at the Westside Community Church garden in Corvallis. The couple, who originally came from Oaxaca,
Mexico, are able to grow healthy vegetables and save money. They are one of 19 Latino families planting at the garden.
P hotos by n o r a sanchez
Immigrant families, who struggle with expensive groceries,
depression and access to health care, return to natural foods
By Nora Sanchez
and Danelly Muniz
Magdaleno Nuñez takes a long stick and
drags it through the soil, making a long, narrow groove. He bends over and places two
pea seeds every three inches. His wife, Hirlanda Nuñez, waters tomatoes on the other
side of their small garden plot at Westside
Community Church in Corvallis.
“We are thankful that the church allows
us to use their property to grow our vegetables and fruits,” said Magdaleno Nuñez.
“The community offered us (a way) to grow
healthy food. We can save money during the
winter.”
Obesity and diabetes among Latinos in
Benton and Linn counties are increasing rapidly, and organizations are responding to help
with what some call an “obesity epidemic
among Latinos.” The garden is one part of
the solution. It brings Latinos together to
grow organic produce, so their families can
eat healthy foods, watch their diets and not
become overweight.
Obesity is a problem that affects all communities across the United States. But Latinos, including Latino children, have the
highest rates. Nearly 70 percent of Latinos
in Benton County are overweight or obese,
compared to 54 percent of all residents, according to a recent study by the Oregon Department of Human Services.
Because more Latinos are obese, they are
also more likely to develop diabetes, a condition in which the body is unable to control the
level of sugar in the blood, according to Rocio
Muñoz, a chronic disease outreach specialist
at the Benton County Health Department.
“Latinos are healthier when they first arrive
from their native countries,” said Muñoz.
Lack of affordable food and
resources lead to “epidemic”
There are many reasons for the obesity
problem among U.S. Latinos, said Marcela
Arredondo, a coordinator of the Congregational Wellness Project in Corvallis. Latinos
have jobs that are low paying, so they cannot
Latino families will soon be harvesting the crops they planted at the Westside Community
Church Garden; all the vegetables and fruits are organic.
“I told James Chavez to keep chasing his dream. We need more sportswriters of color, and management needs to embrace his dream. Now.’’ — Wade Nkrumah
afford to buy healthy food, she said. “Healthy
is expensive.”
Many of the Latinos are undocumented,
Muñoz said, and they isolate themselves because they are afraid of being deported. They
also feel like they don’t belong in this country, because they are discriminated against.
They are overprotective with their children
for the same reason and they don’t allow
them to go outside to play and interact with
other kids.
“People are living with fear, and it’s not
healthy,” Muñoz said. “They become emotionally unstable, because they are unable to
feel free.”
When they become depressed, she said,
they lose interest in their surroundings, isolate themselves and eat more.
Another problem is a lack of grocery
stores near Latinos’ homes. In the south
part of Corvallis, Arredondo said, there are
few places where Latinos can purchase vegetables at affordable prices. Sometimes their
only option is to go to the nearest 7-Eleven
and buy junk food, which makes them more
at risk of becoming obese, she said.
Many Latinos are low-income and don’t
have health insurance, meaning they don’t
have regular access to health care, Muñoz
said. They also may not know organizations and other resources that are available
to them.
“Men in the Latino community think that
everything is OK with them, because they
don’t look sick,” she said. “They don’t get
medical care until they start feeling sick, instead of coming for regular checkups.”
And because some Latinos work multiple
jobs, Muñoz said, they don’t have the time
to cook healthy meals, sit down and eat with
their families, or see a doctor regularly.
Magdaleno and Hirlanda Nuñez discuss tomato plants with Oldga Lidia Perea, while Manuel Perea waters his garden plot. The families are
part of a community garden that allows Latinos to grow healthy food.
Garden promotes health
Faith community leaders began seeing
the epidemic of obesity in the Latino community within the past 10 years, as the Latino population increased in Benton and
Linn counties. They are creating projects
that prevent obesity and promote physical
activities and nutrition.
The community garden is one of those
projects. It is run by the Westside Community Church, which had land that wasn’t being used. The church got money to set up
the garden from Ecumenical Ministries of
Oregon. Nineteen Latino families and two
churches grow tomatoes, lettuce, radishes,
beans, tomatillos and peppers.
All the families are low-income Latinos.
The church asks for a small donation of $5
to $35 to cover water and seeds, but if the
families cannot pay, they do not have to.
The garden helps Latino families come
together in a place where they can feel safe,
grow their own vegetables so that they don’t
have to buy them, and learn with and teach
one another, said Sue Domingues, the garden coordinator and a member of Westside
Community Church.
Domingues worked at the Bruce Starker
Arts Park community garden last year and
she noticed that only two Latino families participated. So she decided that her
church’s garden would focus on Latinos and
recruited Magdaleno Nuñez to help.
Nuñez, who came to Corvallis from Oaxaca, Mexico, with his wife in the early ‘90s,
learned to garden in Mexico from his father,
who grew sugar cane. Now he is a garden
mentor to the other gardening families, and
brings his four children to work in the garden.
“It is very beautiful, because they get to
grow their food and we teach them,” Magdaleno Nuñez said. He added that if one day
the family is in need, or has to go back to
Mexico, the children will be able to survive.
Magdaleno and Hirlanda Nuñez say the
garden allows them to save money, because
they don’t need to buy expensive vegetables
at a grocery store. Hirlanda Nuñez freezes
and stores organic tomatoes, tomatillos and
peas to use during the winter.
“We use the vegetables to make healthy
foods like salads and salsas,” Hirlanda
Nuñez said. “We prefer to grow them ourselves, because we know what’s in them.”
The couple plans to give any leftover produce to other needy families.
The garden also builds community. Westside Community Church hosted a community gathering this year and invited the
Latino gardeners and Anglo church members. The Latina women made salsa and the
two groups interacted with each other, said
Domingues.
Finally, the garden encourages Latino
families to re-introduce the tradition of
eating dinner together as a family, which
many immigrants lose when they come to
the United States, Arredondo said. The garden program helps inform the families that
if you prevent bad eating habits now, in the
long run you will save money on doctor visits, she said.
In addition to the community garden,
Ecumenical Ministries of Oregon administers three other pilot projects to help Latinos
become a healthier community. Cooking
classes at a church kitchen allow Latinos to
learn how to cook healthy, the Farmers Market links families with local farmers, and the
Buying Club allows low-income Latinos to
use food stamps to purchase vegetables.
Overall, the projects are about “food justice,” said Liv Gifford, a project manager
with Ecumenical Ministries of Oregon. Like
many Americans, Latinos may not be aware
of how, when and where their food is being produced, she said. Their food could be
traveling 1,500 miles from the farm to their
home.
“Food became industrial, and we’re trying to make it natural again,” Gifford said.
To make the food healthier, Latinos need to
“put a face on their food,” she said, just like
the Latino gardeners are doing.
“It shouldn’t be just people with a lot of
money who have access to fresh foods,”
Gifford said.
As population grows,
a community unites
By Nora Sanchez
and Danelly Muniz
The Latino population in Benton and
Linn counties has increased steadily in
the past two decades. U.S. Census figures
show that during the 1990s, Benton
County had only 1,735 Latinos and Linn
County had 2,177. But over the next 17
years, in both counties, the number of
Latinos has nearly tripled. According to
the 2007 American Community Survey,
Benton County has a Latino population
of 4,800, and Linn County of 6,700 -- in
both counties, Latinos make up 6 percent
of the total population.
Latinos come to Corvallis, Albany and
other towns in the area to find work in
nurseries or in the fields, in janitorial and
housekeeping services, and in restaurants,
said Erlinda Gonzalez-Berry, the founder
and director of Casa Latinos Unidos of
Benton County.
Gonzalez-Berry started Casa Latinos
Unidos because she wanted to create “a
place that’s run by Latinos for Latinos,”
so that the bridges between whites and
Latinos can be connected, she said. The
organization, which opened in February
at the Corvallis Multicultural Literacy
Center, offers interpreters, an immigration
lawyer and English classes. GonzalezBerry also advocates for Latinos and
helps them learn about their rights.
“I just see it as a great resource for our
community,” she said.
While some Latinos in the area are
native born, some are not, she said. Many
are undocumented, but some of their
children are U.S. citizens. One in every
six students in Oregon schools is Latino.
In the future, Gonzalez-Berry said, that
Magdaleno Nuñez makes a hole before
planting the seeds on his plot at the
Westside Community Church Garden.
Nunez is the mentor at the garden.
number will increase to one in four. The
number of Latinos in Linn and Benton
county continues to grow.
While many Latinos work in lowincome jobs now, that will change with
time, Gonzales-Berry said.
“There is a greater awareness among
Latinos,” she said, “that having an education will lead to more job opportunities
and a successful future.”
Meet this year’s Workshop journalists
Swimming
with
Debussy
Alex Chan
OLYVIA CHAC on ALEX CHAN
Sixteen-year-old Alex Chan finds simplicity in a first generation 30GB iPod Video
and loves the band All Time Low, especially
their song “Break Out! Break Out!” which is
on her playlist to start her day.
Music is everything to Alex, a senior at
Sunset High School in Beaverton. She talks
about singing with a passion, performs in
a choir and musicals and plays guitar and
piano.
“Without music in my life,” Alex says,
“I would not have an outlet to express
myself.”
Although she does not see herself having
a career in music, she plans on majoring in
journalism with a minor in music. Music
has been a part of her for her whole life and
will remain a part of her future, Alex says.
Alex’s love for piano began at the age of
7. Her passion developed as an inspiration
from her best friend. As years progressed,
Alex let go of the concept of doing everything her friend would do and played
for her own sake. At the age of 13, Alex
became frustrated by the tedious technicalities of the piano and nearly quit. However,
from inspirational talks with her mother,
Alex regained her will to play and has stuck
to it ever since.
For years, lessons filled her Tuesday
Under her
surface, roots
run deep
OMEGA MATHEWS
on ETA SANTORO
How far will people go to put down roots
and stay connected?
Many people stay in one state their whole
lives, and sometimes visit relatives in other
states. It’s different for Eta Santoro. In her
15 years, she has lived in five states for short
amounts of time.
Each time she moved, Eta had to leave
friends behind. When she was in elementary
school she was still moving from state to
state, so she wanted to find a way to stay
connected to her friends. As a 10-year-old, she
made a newsletter each month and sent it to
about 15 of her friends.
Watching Eta connect through writing
made her parents encourage her to take writing classes.
Now a sophomore at West Linn High
School, Eta was on the staff of the school paper. She also loves Web design and has two of
her own Web sites: Neo-Mystery and Tugboat
Graphics. Tugboat is a Web site she made this
past May to replace an old Web site. With Tugboat, you can view pre-made layouts, request
layouts and be taught how to make layouts.
Neo-Mystery offers different graphics.
Because her friendships are very important
to her, Eta is cautious about who she makes
friends with.
“I learned to wait and read people before
going to meet them,” she said.
When she first arrived in Oregon, Eta had
trouble making good friends here. “I’m not
afraid to cut off friendships I don’t need,” she
said.
But she also takes care of friends once she
does have them, staying in contact, joking
around and spending time with them. “I’m a
loyal person.”
She’s also had some trouble connecting with her teammates on West Linn High
School’s junior varsity tennis team. She
prefers to hang out with older kids who have
the same interests she has. At school, she has
a wild attitude, and likes to be loud and have
fun with her friends.
Eta likes to read science fiction and realistic
fiction novels. The alien type sci-fi is uninteresting to her. She likes the “CSI: Crime Scene
Investigation” type.
Eta would like to work with computers or
in medicine when she gets older, maybe following in the footsteps of her dad, James, who
is a doctor. Other family members are her 16year-old brother, Peter; her 7-year-old sister,
Kate, who loves to dance and play softball;
her mother, Juliet, a stay-at-home mom who
Eta said is never too busy when Eta or her
siblings need help; and Ilsa, a wiener dog she
brought from Maui when her family moved to
Portland two years ago.
Most girls don’t like video games. Eta does.
She only plays with her brother and cousin because they’re her only competition. She likes
the fighting games, but her all-time favorites
are Mario and Luigi and other Nintendo
games.
Eta is not a “girly girl.” She likes to do
some things that most girls wouldn’t do, and
that’s not a bad thing. She also has deep roots
and she goes a long way to keep them there.
Eta Santoro
evenings.
Alex’s fingers glided from key to key,
playing Nocturne in G Minor, Op. 37 No. 1
by Chopin on the piano, and glided across
the guitar strings for the scores of “Remembering Sunday” by All Time Low. Alex
has a decade of piano in her pocket as well
as a few years of acoustic guitar lessons.
She quit guitar because junior year had
been hectic, making Alex decide between
the two. Piano, her first instrument, won.
Alex’s favorite composer is Claude
Debussy; her favorite composition is “Clair
de Lune.” She was introduced to Debussy
when she attended Camp Collins last summer.
“We were in the mess hall when [my
friend, Connor Maginnis] started playing
the piano,” Alex says. “He was playing
“Clair de Lune” and I thought it was the
most beautiful thing I had ever heard.”
Alex was hooked on playing ‘Clair De
Lune.’ Even though her piano level is not
at Debussy’s level, Alex practiced and
practiced to play the piece fluently.
Even though Alex did not make the allstar choir for her school, she still continues
to sing without feeling rejected. She sings
as a hobby and for her school’s musicals.
She receives recognition for working her
vocal cords to the max for Sunset’s annual
school musical. She has most enjoyed her
performance in the musical “Urinetown,”
which is also her favorite.
When the day is done, Alex sets her iPod
to her bedtime playlist of All Time Low,
listens to “Lullaby.” “It has a really slow
beat, it’s relaxing, it makes me go to sleep,”
she says. Then she keeps the iPod plugged
in her ears throughout the night.
“It’s how I begin my day and it’s how I
end my day,” says Alex. “It’s a way for life
“If newsrooms are more diverse, it would give all different angles and perspectives on what the country is about.” — Mariella Miller
Photography casts world in a new light
CYNTHIA CHAND on
MARICRUZ GONZALEZ VAZQUEZ
Watching a school dance performance
earlier this year, Maricruz Gonzalez Vazquez
remembers wishing she had her camera to
capture the shadows created on the stage.
The opportunity for a perfect photo seems
to always entice Mari, who has developed her
talent for photography since the sixth grade.
The 15-year-old enjoys photography because
it helps take her mind off other problems,
forces her instead to see the beauty in the
world.
“I like photography more than other
types of art because, while painting is an
interpretation of what you see, photography
shows exactly what’s in front of you,” Mari
said. “I hate staging pictures. I like going
out and taking pictures of what I see in the
world.”
Mari prefers taking pictures of places and
things because people intimidate her. She
especially likes photographing nature.
Maricruz Gonzalez Vazquez
Mari’s dark eyes light up behind her
glasses when she notices the way the sun
hits the grass, or how perfectly a tree’s trunk
blends into the soil. These observations
bring a wide smile of appreciation to Mari’s
small face, which is framed by black, bobbed
hair.
It was almost by chance that Mari
discovered her passion for photography. She
was developing photos for a class at Arts &
Communication Magnet Academy (ACMA),
her school in Beaverton, but did not have the
right amount of chemicals. Somehow her
pictures turned out fine.
“I thought it was beginner’s luck or
intuition, and I knew photography was for
me,” Mari said.
Mari believes that once people realize their
purpose, things will fall in place.
That positive attitude kept Mari going when
she first entered ACMA. Mari hated the first
semester because she didn’t know any of her
classmates. She missed having her friends to
talk to about her family problems.
Mari has watched her mother go through
two divorces and felt the rejection of her
biological father. Yet, Mari comes across as a
genuinely happy person.
“I’m not going to cry for weeks and weeks.
I know there are some things I’m not going to
be able to fix,” Mari said.
Through it all, art and photography have
been there to help distract Mari since her
youth. Mari’s mother, Marilu Vazquez
Martinez, remembers how Mari was
fascinated with art at a young age. She recalls
how Mari was always drawing, designing and
inventing.
“When Mari starts making art, she just
needs a tiny idea and she can keep building
off of it,” Martinez said in Spanish as Mari
translated.
Mari came to the United States with her
mother and older sister from Puebla, a small
city in Mexico, when she was 8 years old.
“The language was hard to learn,” Mari
explained with a slight accent. “I still struggle
with it a little, but reading helps a lot.”
Mari and her best friend have started a
book club that meets every three weeks. Mari
loves to read and participates in Battle of the
Books, a “Jeopardy”-style competition at
school, and summer reading programs outside
of her book club.
But while historical fiction, magical realism
and adventure novels dominate her reading
list, Mari has a very realistic outlook on life.
She hopes to continue incorporating art into
her life, but is unsure of exactly how to do
that.
“I know I can’t survive as an artist,” she
said.
Although she is still figuring out how
to turn her passion into a career, Mari will
always be a photographer at heart.
“I wish I had a small camera with me
all the time,” Mari said. “I love the magic
photography gives to a person or place.”
Unique dance
inspires pursuit
of excellence
OLIVIA JONES-HALL on
DEEPTHIKA ENNAMURI
When Deepthika Ennamuri was 7 years
old, she moved from Andhra Pradesh, India,
to America with her mother, father and older
sister. Moving to a new continent is difficult
for most, but Deepthika’s outgoing nature and
her young age made it an easy transition.
She understood more English than she
could speak, so her parents put her into
swimming, tennis, soccer and dance classes
so that she would have fun and make friends.
None of the classes satisfied her as much as
dance.
After she had juggled several dance genres,
Deepthika’s parents finally introduced her to
Kuchipudi.
“The dance is just so unique,” said
Deepthika, 16, a petite young woman with
dark, wavy hair that reaches down her back.
“Nothing else compares.”
Both her parents had watched Kuchipudi
and other classical Indian dances since they
were young. Though they never participated
themselves, they showed a great love for the
art and when they realized their daughter’s
potential they thought she may like to try it.
Deepthika, who goes by Deepthi, said
that her parents like to keep a balance of the
cultures, American and Indian, in their home,
but this is not the reason they enrolled her in
Kuchipudi. Still, Deepthi doesn’t think that
she would have been introduced to Kuchipudi
were she not Indian.
Deepthika Ennamuri
She started dancing once a week and it has
become more than a pastime for the incoming
senior, who already excels in many things.
She is in the International Baccalaureate
program at Sunset High School in Beaverton.
And after four years in tae kwon do, she can
finally tie a black belt around her waist. Yet
her passion still lies with Kuchipudi.
“I knew I wanted to be a part of it,” she
said. “I knew I wanted to excel in this art.”
For Deepthi, dance is a way to express
herself. She said she loves dancing for the
sake of it — not practicing for class or
even remembering the steps. She enjoys
helping other dancers put together pieces for
performances.
The dance is mesmerizing, Deepthi said,
the colors of the clothing, the jewelry and the
choreography are unlike anything that exists
in other cultures.
“The rhythmic steps, the movements,
everything is just so different,” she said.
“It just feels so perfect when I finally put
everything together.”
Classical Indian dance is more than just
arms and legs, she said. The dancers must
constantly pay attention to their hands, their
fingers and their face. It is an emotional
dance, but much of the emotion is shown on
the faces of the dancers. Deepthi said that it
matters where you are looking, how you are
smiling, where your elbows are and what your
fingers are doing. “Everything is important,”
she said.
Deepthi said that when she performs at
Indian events, she feels everything come
together and all her hard work pay off. Even
if it is not perfect, she said, it feels good to
know that she has accomplished something.
Deepthi doesn’t know where dance will take
her, or where she will take it in the future, but
for now she is content.
“Dancing just feels right to me,” Deepthi
said. “It feels like that is what I should be
doing.”
“It’s good to give the reader different insight on different subjects from different people.”
—Maricruz Gonzalez Vazquez
Sports and
writing guide
his life
Luisa Anderson
on james chavez
James Chavez, then in the fifth grade, sat
anxiously in his chair. He clenched a pen
in one hand while capturing the words that
fell from his grandfather’s lips regarding the
details of his life.
The school assignment was a paper on a
relative. The experience set the direction of
his future career.
“That was the first time I got to interview
someone,” he said. “I was nervous, but it was
fun. It’s cool learning about people.”
His love for writing led him to articulate
his passion for sports and directed him toward
sports writing. James, a junior this fall at
Madison High School, will be a sportswriter
for his school newspaper, The Constitution.
James, 16, plans to study writing in college
with an ultimate goal of becoming a sports
anchor for ESPN. He believes that he can
achieve this dream by applying the same dedication and hard work he devotes to athletics.
As much as James loves sports — he has
participated in hockey, football, basketball,
baseball and track and field — he realizes that
he will not become a professional athlete.
“If I were 6’5” and 250 pounds, I would
definitely pursue an athletic career, but I’m
not,” said James, who stands 5 feet, 6 inches
and weighs 150 pounds.
James says that keeping himself busy with
sports has helped him avoid what he calls “the
wrong crowd.” He grew up playing sports
with his cousin, who pushed him to become
a stronger athlete. His father was also athletic
and encouraged him to follow in his footsteps.
“He has had some sort of ball in his hand
since he was 1,” his father, Dave Chavez, said.
“He’s always been extremely fast and athletic.
I don’t know if it is because he is small and
he’s running for his life, or what it is.”
Having experienced both victory and
defeat, James writes about sports from a
personal perspective.
He recalls the first team he played on when
he was 6, a hockey team called the Clackamas
Storm.
“I scored my first goal and I still have the
puck,” James said.
One of his greatest sports moments took
place his freshman year when his hockey team
won a club league championship. The score
was 3-3, and neither team scored in overtime.
James watched the shootout from the sidelines
as a teammate made a slap shot into the net.
“We won and it was one of the best feelings
I will ever have,” he said.
James has also felt the devastation of losing. No experience was more frustrating than
when he played quarterback for Madison’s
freshman football team in 2007. The Senators
trailed rival Cleveland High School 14-7 with
a minute remaining on the clock. James threw
a fourth-down pass deep to his receiver, who
dropped the ball. Madison lost the game.
“I cried, can’t lie,” James said.
However, winning and losing is not the
object of sports for James. He enjoys the
adrenaline rush from the fast pace of competition. Perhaps more importantly, James enjoys
teamwork.
“With track, it’s only you,” he said. “I don’t
like individual sports. I like that I can carry
a guy on my back, and he could do the same
for me.”
For the past two years, he has been playing
quarterback for Madison. However, since
watching a Detroit Red Wings game at the
age of 5, James has devoted the last 11 years
playing his favorite sport: hockey.
Writing has become the path of his future,
but James will never lose sight of his first love
— playing sports.
“When I am playing I don’t have to think
about anything else,” he says. “I’m not worried about school or friends… (sports) has
helped me through a lot of adversity.”
James Chavez
Embracing
change
MARICRUZ GONZALEZ VAZQUEZ
on CYNTHIA CHAND
Cynthia Chand recalled the day her
11-year-old self stood on the driveway of
Evergreen Middle School in Hillsboro. She
adjusted her glasses, shifted her tiny feet
and looked around. Her eyes scanned the
yellowing trees, the gray sky, the unfamiliar
structure and the excited people. Kids circled
her, greeting each other and talking about
how great seventh grade was going to be
after the long summer.
Cynthia stood there feeling fearful of
not belonging and hoping that one day she
would.
When her family moved to Oregon from
California, she says, she was the one who
took the change the best. Cynthia was used
to difference and change in her life.
The move to Oregon removed her from
her extended family and exposed her to a
new way of life. In Oregon there were no
Indian parties. She couldn’t hang out with
her cousins and she didn’t know anyone.
Now, Cynthia said, “I feel kind of left out
because I don’t have that time with them
anymore...it’s kind of sad.”
She was already balancing her culture
and the culture she had been born into. Both
her parents were from the Fiji Islands. Her
father, Yatish Chand, is Hindu, like his family in California. That means Cynthia grew
Cynthia Chand
up without eating beef or pork and eating
completely vegetarian meals on Tuesdays.
On the other hand, Nunjale Chand, her
mom, is Christian. Along with Hindu beliefs,
Cynthia also grew up with Christmas and
Easter. All her life she had heard both religions and was comfortable with the blend
of traditions, just another part of her life.
But balancing American and Indian culture
leaves Cynthia feeling in-between.
“I never feel like I fully fit in,” Cynthia
said. With her Indian cousins telling stories
about Fiji and speaking Hindi, she feels
more Americanized. And her American
friends don’t understand aspects of her Indian culture, such as the level of respect she
has for her parents.
Change also came early to Cynthia
through school. In California her parents
wanted a better education for her than the
one her district was offering. Her new school
was for kids with military parents. They
move, a lot. Cynthia was always left behind
to make new friends. It taught her to be more
flexible with the shifts that life threw at her.
Now, Cynthia says, “I get bored without
change.”
Born in 1992 in warm California, Cynthia
grew up surrounded by both sets of grandparents and many cousins. Cynthia’s family
often got together to share their Indian
culture. They were her world.
In Oregon, school became her new
world. Cynthia joined a drama group. She
also became involved with a group of kids
representing their school in Hillsboro. “I like
feeling important,” she said. “Knowing that
people are depending on me feels good.”
Now that she is 16 years old and soon to
be a senior, she has branched out to different
activities. In the fall she runs cross country.
In the winter she writes for the school newspaper. In the spring she competes in track.
Next school year Cynthia will become
vice president of Glencoe High. She and her
team will be in charge of pep assemblies,
which she wants to change to include the artists at Glencoe, artists like her. Cynthia has
been playing the piano for about 10 years
and says she will always play because it’s a
huge part of her life.
More change is coming. Next year, she
will graduate from high school and hopes
to go off to Lewis and Clark College, but
she has no idea what she will major in. She
has considered many jobs, like teaching or
journalism, but “nothing sticks that long.”
In journalism, she enjoys the people, the
stories they give her and the atmosphere of
Glencoe’s newspaper room. Cynthia will
make a choice by trying out the journalism
summer camp.
Cynthia remembers the bell ringing
that first day of seventh grade. It was time
for lunch. People moved in a stream to
Evergreen’s cafeteria to eat. She stood in
the middle of lunch tables wondering where
she was going to sit. The place looked to her
like a vast and intimidating sea of people.
In the corner of her eye she saw an empty
seat. Then she caught sight of a hand waving
at her. She went over to a smiling girl and introduced herself, knowing that she had found
an island she could hang onto for a while.
“If you have a staff with a diverse background, the paper will be interesting on each and every page.” — Dora Marchand
‘I have these
happy moments
in math class...’
year of Advanced Calculus.
She didn’t really start to connect to math until seventh-grade geometry. “I really liked how
everything seemed to fit together,” she says.
“It’s like a little puzzle.”
She talks about her “happy moments in
math class”: “When everything just suddenly
makes sense and I won’t be able to stop smiling.”
As for reading, she discovered it when she
was 4 and hasn’t stopped since. An avid reader
of fiction and a former fan of historical fiction,
Shannon Cox
on Rosa inocencio Smith
She sits timidly in her chair, hesitantly, almost as if she believes that allowing her whole
weight onto the chair might somehow damage
it. Impossible, the thought that her small frame
could cause damage to anything.
Rosa Inocencio Smith, 16, is all contrasts:
shy eyes coupled with a soft, strong voice;
modest but brilliantly fascinating.
When she talks about herself, it’s obvious
that she doesn’t take herself seriously. “I don’t
really have a life,” she says.
However, if you take the time to really look
at what she’s told you, you’ll find that she is a
very interesting person.
Rosa claims that she is not talkative, but
spend time with her and she becomes a girl
who giggles with you on the sidewalk, who
will encourage you to climb a tree covered in
snail trails, who will talk with you for hours.
She’s the girl who’ll laugh at a joke you were
worried no one would understand.
She laughs when she describes her life, but
she is one of the few people who can convince
an enemy of math that there is beauty in the
symmetry of equations.
The eldest child and only daughter of two
artists, Mark Smith and Maria Inocencio, Rosa
is different from her parents in that she finds
her creative release through reading and math
instead of art.
“Math makes a lot of sense to me,” Rosa
explains. “Everything is so concrete and
everything has a reason, and I think that’s
wonderful.”
Rosa’s course of study for math has been
a rigorous one. She took Algebra 1 in sixth
grade, and next year, as a junior at Grant High
School in Portland, she will take her second
Rosa Inocencio Smith
she also often reads classics.
Rosa considers “To Kill a Mockingbird”
by Harper Lee to be her favorite book at the
moment. She knows a quote by the main character, Scout Finch, by heart.
“Until I feared I would lose it, I did not
love to read,” Scout says. “One does not love
breathing.”
Her affinity for math and her love of reading
are some of the reasons Rosa considers herself
a nerd.
Rosa’s middle school was a scholastic
program called Access, which is housed in
Sabin Elementary School. Access is a semiaccelerated secondary-education program
designed for TAG, or talented and gifted,
students.
“If you are so nerdy that you can’t be in
regular society, there you are at Access,” she
says with a small smile.
It is hard for her to make friends, she says.
She calls herself shy and says she over-thinks
things.
Whenever she is speaking to someone she
has never met, she likes to pretend a secret
personality takes over: a leader, unafraid,
outgoing, who doesn’t care what people think
— someone, she says, who is unlike herself.
From the self-deprecation that tints her
words, you sense she yearns for something
different. Her intelligence has given her the insight to envision a promising future for herself.
She plans to go to school in her birthplace:
New York City. She has been back only twice
since moving away at age 2.
“It seems like a cool place,” she says. “A lot
of things going on, a lot of interesting people.”
Rosa sees herself at New York University
pursuing degrees in both English and literature. After she finishes school, she wants to use
those degrees to lead her into a career as either
a writer or a teacher.
“I would need to learn to talk in front of
a group,” she says with a laugh that’s both
nervous and curious.
This makes you wonder two things: How
shy could she actually be? What kind of quiet
strength must course through her for her to
want to make a permanent move to an unfamiliar city on the other side of the country?
Compassion to
care for others
Ariel Barrientos on Dora Marchand
Experiencing severe root canal pain, Dora Marchand lay in bed
after a long dentist appointment. Shortly after, her friend Enrique
called with an emergency.
He was a contestant in Portland’s Mr. Junior Gay Pride Pageant and begged her to join him. He was out meeting people the
week before the pageant and had no support.
In an instant, she jumped out of bed, dressed and headed to
public transportation. She was so weak, a friend needed to walk
with her. As she waited in the snaking line to get in, the pain
grew.
The Parkrose High School senior’s insides thumped and she
felt drowsy from the Vicodin pills. Half of her wanted to go
home, the other half knew she couldn’t let Enrique down.
“Thanks for being such a good friend, Dora,” she remembers
him saying. “It means a lot.”
Dora is always thinking of ways to calm others or cheer them
up. She plays the role of therapist when friends are in need and
provides homeless friends with a place to stay.
She doesn’t do it for gifts, popularity or money. She does it to
see the smile on people’s faces.
“Everyone is given a talent to make this world a better place,”
Dora said. “I feel that my talent is helping people physically or
emotionally.”
The 17-year-old is known for talking through problems with
friends. She sits and listens when they confess relationship angst,
low self-esteem and family issues.
She listens but doesn’t like to give advice as a parent would.
Instead, she breaks down their problems into pieces, showing
them how to put them back together.
“Do you really think it’s a smart idea to go to her house at 2
in the morning?” she asked a friend who was having relationship
problems. “How do you think this will play out if it goes this
way?”
Dora Marchand
Even though Dora hasn’t gone through difficult experiences,
she listens and cares about what friends have to say.
Sometimes she’s a shoulder to lean on. Other times she offers
much more, including a place to stay and a night off of the streets.
Dora brings home homeless friends because she can imagine
what it feels like to sleep in the cold or go hungry for a day.
She has a strong personality, evident in the clothes she wears:
the bright-colored shoes, the cartoon T-shirts and the different
colors in her hair. Riding the bus or the MAX train in Portland is
no problem. Walking the busy streets of Portland is no problem.
Being away from home all day is no problem. She has an independent streak, just like the bleached blond highlights in her hair.
Dora throws herself out into society every day. Knowing the
city so well, she guides her friends to restaurants based on how
much is in their wallet or what they crave.
Or she even has the advantage of going to her mother’s
restaurants to give her friends free food. Her mother, Darin, owns
a chain of Thai restaurants in Portland. Since she was 10, Dora
has worked long summer hours and after school as a waitress and
cook.
It may not be her dream job, but just as she helps her friends,
Dora can’t forget her mother.
“It makes her happy. I haven’t thought about not working for
her,” Dora said.
In life, Dora is constantly collecting smiles. It’s what she lives
for.
“Diversity exposes people to different cultures and ways of thinking.” — Morgan Chan
Flying away to independence
DANELLY MUNIZ
on NORA SANCHEZ
Nora Sanchez has two tattoos, which represent who she is and have a special meaning
to her. One is on her hipbone, an arch of five
colorful stars. They represent the people in
her family. The two biggest stars represent her
parents, and the three smallest ones represent
her two sisters and brother. The dove on her
wrist represents “flying away,” as Nora likes
to say. It’s the way she can escape from her
problems and show her independence.
Since her family came to the United States
from Mexico, Nora struggled to fit in at home
and at school. She rebelled against her strict
parents. And at school, she felt she needed
to be someone she was not in order to be
successful. With time, Nora would learn to be
who she really was.
Nora was born in Cocula, a small town in
Jalisco, Mexico. Her dad, who was only 17,
went to the U.S. to provide money for Nora
and her mom, who stayed behind in Mexico.
Nora’s mom was 16 at the time and couldn’t
provide her baby with all the things she needed, Nora said. When Nora turned 1, her dad
helped her and her mom come to the United
States, because he wanted them by his side to
be able to give them a better life, she said.
The family settled in East Los Angeles.
While Nora was growing up, she saw two
shootings and saw a man get hit by a car. Her
parents decided to move to Oregon when she
was 5 years old, because they didn’t want her
to live surrounded by violence and her dad
had an opportunity to get a better job.
In school, she recalls being scared because
she didn’t know the language and had a hard
time making friends.
“When people talked to me, I would get
angry because I couldn’t understand,” Nora
said.
As she got older, she learned how to speak
English, but still didn’t fit in. When middle
school came, she tried “acting white.” She
was focused on fitting in and let her grades
slip. She did it to seem like she was from a
“higher level,” meaning economically better
off, she said. “I wanted a better chance in
life.”
To be more successful, she decided to dress
“white.” She started shopping at Abercrombie,
Aeropostale, Hollister and American Eagle.
But she soon realized she didn’t want to be
mistaken for someone else and wanted to be a
good role model for her sisters. She looked for
her inner self and decided to stick with it. She
also started hanging out with people from different races. When she got into South Albany
High School, her grades improved.
At the same time, she was trying to gain
her independence from her parents, who were
very strict about the goals they set for her. In
her house, Nora recalls living a sort of secret
life. “I lived the way my parents wanted me
to live, but behind their back I would live the
way I wanted to live,” Nora said. She would
date boys even though she knew she wasn’t
allowed to do so.
But Nora realized that her relationship with
her parents was more important. Her parents
made her work for her things. She helped her
dad at his mechanics shop so that her parents
would let her go out with friends. She helped
with the pricing or just helped her dad with
the cars he was fixing.
In May, a month before graduating, 18year-old Nora went to a parlor to get the tattoo
of the dove. The bird shows how independent
she has become, that she is an adult who has
her own plans. She wants to attend Linn-Benton Community College for welding and auto
mechanics. In two years, she plans to transfer
to Western Oregon University to study psychology.
The dove “flying away” also reminds her
that even though she may go through a rough
time in the future, she can just get away from
that and make time for herself.
Nora Sanchez
Olyvia Chac
Buddhist returns to group
in search of connection
ALEX CHAN on OLYVIA CHAC
For years, Olyvia Chac’s Sundays centered
on going to Ngoc Son Temple. The 16-yearold incoming senior from Marshall High
School in Southeast Portland attended the
temple’s Buddhist youth group; with them she
finally discovered teenagers to admire and the
kind of person she wants to be.
However, as older members have moved on
to college, the group has become smaller, the
connection breaking down. She hopes to bring
back the companionship among the current
group.
By committing herself to her Buddhist
youth group, Olyvia faced experiences and
met people who helped her survive in the outside world. Through Buddhism, she was able
to learn valuable lessons that could be applied
anywhere in her life.
“I learn about the world through Buddhism,” says Olyvia. “It helps guide me
through life.”
Olyvia’s grandmother pushed her into
attending youth group at the age of 8.
She wanted to have a sense of control by
saying “No,” but since she spent all of her
time with her grandmother she eventually
realized she had no choice. As a teenager,
Olyvia grew to enjoy the company of the
other Buddhist youth group members. She
comfortably calls them her brothers and
sisters. Much like real siblings, Olyvia
thinks her youth group members can be
annoying at times but still loves being with
them.
Although Olyvia lives with her 14-yearold sister, she sought comfort from certain
group members and looked up to some of
them as role models.
“My ‘big brother’ Donny is the person
in my life I looked up to the most as a male
figure,” says Olyvia. “Around his teen years,
his father left his family, but Donny still
continued to take care of his mother and his
grandfather.”
She continues to see many of her friends in
youth group outside of her temple, including
Donny.
“I can pretty much go by his office anytime.
He’s still like a superhero to me because he
can do anything he sets his mind to,” says
Olyvia.
Even with tightly scheduled youth group
sessions of news discussions, writing classes
and games, Olyvia usually stayed afterward
at the Southeast Portland temple to talk with
her friends.
What Olyvia learned from the extra talk
time aided her in making choices on many
issues in her life.
“I wanted to punch this one kid who said
rude things to me, but then I remembered
something my friends and I talked about at
temple,” says Olyvia. “I remembered that
throughout life people will pick on you, but
you don’t have to react, so I walked away
from him.”
Since members of Olyvia’s group have
grown up into different people, she started
noticing some cracks in the once-solid group.
“It doesn’t feel like a group anymore
because everyone is changing and they aren’t
the same people as they were when they were
little,” says Olyvia. “There are fewer incoming members, who either feel left out because
they don’t know the original members very
well or they just don’t show up every time.”
Olyvia has missed 10 youth group meetings in the past couple months, but she plans
to come back in the winter. Because group
bonding still takes place with events like trips
to Blue Lake Park in Fairview and barbecues,
Olyvia still wants to help plan those activities.
“We had 70 members in the beginning and
in the course of eight years we’re now down
to 15,” says Olyvia, “but I’m still going to
return.”
“Newspapers reach a diverse audience, so to cover everything in a community, reporters need to come from diverse backgrounds.” — Cynthia Chand
Extra push to excellence
springs from family support
IVANNA TUCKER on MAYA ALLEN
Sitting in a chair with her legs crossed,
Maya Allen is wearing a pink sweatshirt,
jeans and tan UGG boots.
She speaks in an innocent and sweet
voice. She talks about hanging out with
friends and shopping. She shares her love of
ballet.
Like most teenagers, this 16-year-old
Grant High School junior has hopes and
dreams. But at her core are the elements of
a good cheerleader, the solid foundation and
support of her family, and a strong commitment to her education.
Maya has the ambition and support to help
push her to achieve her goals.
A varsity cheerleader, Maya was aiming
Maya Allen
to be the best when she started high school.
As an incoming ninth grader, she made the
varsity cheer squad at Grant with no cheer
experience. Cheerleading is very time-consuming. The team performs at pep assemblies, football games and basketball games.
“I guess you can say I have the cheerleader attitude,” Maya says while recounting
why she joined cheer. She said cheerleading
has made her more sociable and more organized. It has also taught her the dedication it
takes to go further.
Even though Maya is a varsity cheerleader, school is her top priority. She is an
Honors/Advanced Placement student with a
4.0 grade-point average. Her favorite subject
is English because she believes that writing is what she is best at.
“You can call me a perfectionist,” says
Maya, with confidence. She believes that
with the best grades, she will get into the
best colleges there are.
“She always takes an extra effort to
have excellence,” states Natasha Haynes,
17, a varsity cheerleader at Grant.
Maya’s role model is her only sibling,
her sister, Taylor Allen, 19. Taylor was
the valedictorian at Grant in 2008. She
will be a sophomore at Spelman College
in Atlanta, and is an English major.
“She’s my total inspiration,’’ Maya
says of her sister. “She inspires me and
has been the tool to my dreams and most
of my success. She’s my best friend.”
Maya and her sister have always been
close. That connection has helped push
Maya to her fullest potential.
“She should do the best that she can do,
but if she wants to be a valedictorian I know
she can do it,” Taylor said. “At the same
time I’m not pressuring her to do what I
have done. She should do her best.”
Maya was born and raised in Northeast
Portland. Her father, Ricky Allen, is the
principal at Jefferson High School’s Boys
Academy. Her mother, Deborah Allen, is a
home health nurse at Kaiser Permanente.
They don’t put stress on her to do well,
Maya said, but they do provide a support
system. She said they never put her down or
make her feel bad about who she is. This has
pushed Maya harder to be the best. Without her family’s support, she believes she
wouldn’t be pursuing the goals she’s trying
to achieve.
“I’m very proud of her and how she has
developed her own niche,’’ her father said.
“I love the fact that she is a hard worker and
that she’s very competitive and wants to be
the best.”
Maya’s parents started reading books to
her and her sister when Maya was a toddler.
Their parents read to them every single
night, Maya said. The reading made Maya
familiar with literature and sparked her interest in it. “I enjoyed reading, so I would enjoy
reading my own writing,” Maya says.
Next year she plans to join National
Honor Society. After high school she would
like to attend Spelman or Howard University
in Washington, D.C., and major in journalism.
“Success is key,” Maya states, “and it
truly makes me happy.”
Carlie Deltoro
Pledging to be
a vegetarian
MARIELA MILLER
on CARLIE DELTORO
When Carlie Deltoro started high school,
she started a new way of life.
At 14, she pledged to be a vegetarian.
“Animals should live their life to the fullest, like humans,” said Carlie, now 16 and a
junior at Westview High School.
Vegetarianism is important to Carlie
because she’s an animal lover who thinks
animals have the right to live and not be eaten
as meat. Carlie, since her middle school years,
has loved to pet-sit and volunteer her time at
the Oregon Humane Society. She would spend
four hours each weekend playing with the
dogs and cats.
Having an aunt and grandmother who are
vegetarians opened Carlie’s eyes at a young
age. At 10, she decided that meat was actually
an innocent animal.
“You have to speak for them because they
can’t speak for themselves,” Carlie said.
Becoming a vegetarian during her freshman
year was not hard in the beginning, but one
of the biggest challenges was getting enough
protein.
In her first year, she felt weak and had a
cold that lasted two months due to the lack
of protein. To restore her body, her mother
insisted that she temporarily eat meat.
“I totally cried when I ate it,” she said. “It
was this nasty chicken. It wasn’t a good experience. It makes you feel like you’re letting
the animals down.”
Her vegetarianism has spilled over into the
pages of her school newspaper, where Carlie
wrote an editorial teaching people not to judge
vegetarians.
“I felt like writing it got people to grasp the
concept of why people don’t eat meat,” she
said.
She looks forward to the challenge and fun
of serving as entertainment editor next year.
She hopes to add diversity to the page by
having people write about different types of
music.
“I want to see anybody open a newspaper
and find something that they’re interested in,”
said Carlie, who loves rock music. Everywhere she goes she carries her silver iPod
mini with its stickers supporting People for
the Ethical Treatment of Animals.
Carlie would like to start a club this fall that
focuses on vegetarianism and teaches people
about animal cruelty. Members would discuss
animal rights and healthy ways to eat as a
vegetarian. The club would volunteer at local
animal shelters and organize fundraisers to
help animal organizations.
At school Carlie runs cross-country and
track. Each week in the fall, Carlie devotes
up to 20 hours at cross-country practices.
She spends just as much time each week in
the spring practicing for the 300-meter short
hurdles, and the 800-meter and 1,500-meter
races.
Carlie also likes to spend time at her aunt’s
house nearby. They share many common
interests, such as their love of purple, puppies
and pop culture.
Carlie hopes to continue writing articles
about animal rights while studying journalism
at the University of Oregon.
“I hope to pursue making a living out what
I love,” Carlie said.
“Diversity is important, so that people are not closed-minded and accept everyone for the person they are and not what they look like.” — James Chavez
Like father, like son
Dora Marchand on Ariel Barrientos
Arturo Barrientos sat down with his son to talk about becoming a man.
It was New Year’s Day 2007 and he began instructing Ariel
Barrientos, the oldest of three children:
“You’ve got to step up in the house.”
“You’ve got to step in and be there for the family.”
“Shoot for the best, nothing less.”
“You need to remember and go through with these things
I’ve told you, because you never know when I might be gone,
then what?”
Later that year, on Sept. 7, Arturo Barrientos was diagnosed
with stomach cancer. The cancer spread rapidly and, within a
month, he was hospitalized. In one week in November, his life
expectancy shrank from six months to mere days.
Arturo kept asking for his son. “Ariel, Ariel?” he called out
until the family finally brought Ariel, then 15, to his bedside.
They held each other’s hands.
Nov. 29, 3:36 p.m. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeep.
Arturo’s hand went limp. And in that moment, Ariel’s life
changed forever.
Ariel would have to grow up, become the man of the house
and do it without his best friend.
***
Taking his first steps at 8 months, Ariel showed potential to
be an athlete early, just like his father. His “pops” put him in a
soccer league at age 4 when most of his teammates were older
and bigger than he was.
As Ariel continued to play, Arturo became his biggest fan
and critic.
“At every game my dad saw, he would tell me what I needed
to work on,” Ariel said. “He never told me he was proud of me,
but I knew he was.”
As a child, Arturo encouraged his son to experiment with
different sports in grade school, such as basketball, baseball
and football.
Before his freshman year at South Albany High School,
Ariel quit the football team because he didn’t get along with
the coach.
“He was really mad when I quit,” Ariel said. “He wanted
me to finish out the season because if I quit, then it would be a
trend.”
Arturo told his son that he never quit in his life. Later, Ariel
came to understand why his father wanted to instill the trait in
him.
In many ways, he is becoming just like Dad.
***
Two seconds.
Sometimes Ariel, 16, wishes for just two more seconds with
his father.
If so, he’d give him a hug. With more time, he’d talk until he
ran out of things to say.
But there’s still one more place the high school junior can
connect with him -- on a grassy soccer field.
Before a match, he takes a quiet moment to pray. It’s his way
of honoring the man who taught him about soccer and life.
“It’s for you,” he says.
Ariel Barrientos
Hardly ‘the end’
of her story
Eta Santoro on Omega Mathews
Calm, composed, concentrated.
Omega Mathews on the outside is collected and relaxed.
Unlike the usual teenager who’s bouncing off the walls with
hormones, Omega is peaceful and appears ready for anything.
Without hesitating, she introduces herself in a friendly way
and is thoughtful about questions directed at her. Her eyes float
around the room as she takes in her surroundings. She’s patient,
and mature for her age.
Something subtle lingers about her personality that’s hard
to notice at first. It’s power, and it radiates from her pleasant
countenance.
“Omega” means “the end,” and her name has a story behind it.
Her brother’s name is the counterpart, “Alpha,” or “the beginning.” Her parents named them from references in the Bible.
In her family, her father and aunt are also named “Alpha” and
“Omega.”
Her tall, sturdy frame is proof of hard work that has earned
her a spot on the girls’ varsity basketball team at Parkrose High
School, an accomplishment for Omega, 15, who will be a sophomore in the fall.
Enthusiasm for the sport shows in her everyday life: She loves
to dribble the ball on a court, practicing shots in her free time. She
is a post in basketball, known as the most aggressive position, and
started playing when she was in sixth grade.
At her previous school, the only activity for girls was basketball. Fliers announcing tryouts caught her attention, and she
needed something to do.
It didn’t take long for her teachers to notice her speed and push
her to try out for varsity track.
“I ran the 100-meter dash consistently, so my coach introduced
me to the 200-meter dash,” said Omega, who also throws shotput
and discus.
Besides being a well-rounded, outstanding athlete, Omega
likes to read suspense and black history novels and enjoys honors
English class.
Born in Colorado, Omega moved to Oregon at 6. She has one
Omega Mathews
brother and three sisters. When she was 5, Omega’s 3-year-old
sister died from an incurable disease.
At the time, Omega didn’t understand the concept of death and
barely remembers when it happened. Her mom tells her stories.
“If she was here today, she would’ve been like any other sister,
but with more attention, of course,” Omega said.
Omega shows a variety of personalities in her life: She is quiet
and focused in the classes she cares most about but is loud and
upbeat with her friends. She’s not afraid to be bold. Chances are
she’ll say something to you straight.
“If you beat around the bush, you’re not going to get your point
across,” Omega said.
Her dislikes include annoying chewing noises and the people
who don’t text her back right away.
In the future, Omega hopes for a career as a pro basketball
player or an orthodontist.
Attention is usually captured by the noisy, well-known kids.
But Omega, a queen of running, keeps her accomplishments to
herself.
She is one of those students who wander the halls and keep
quiet about themselves, but live in elaborate worlds others don’t
see.
“We need people of different backgrounds to tell stories, because they will come at them from different angles.” — Shannon Cox
Trying to sharpen awareness
one step at a time
James Chavez
on Luisa Anderson
The feel of the rough, dusty paper of
an old book being turned. The sound of
17-year-old fingers gliding over each line
soothes the mind of Luisa Anderson.
Luisa has a great joy for reading that began as a child and flourished as a teenager.
That obsession has influenced her to want
to create the very thing she loves. Luisa,
a senior at Arts & Communication Magnet Academy in Beaverton, plans to write
a troubling story about the struggles her
grandmother and other relatives face living
in the Philippines.
Luisa visited her grandmother for one
month in 2006. She was horrified by the
sight of children running through the streets
with no shoes and later returning to shacks
they called home. Luisa believes these conditions exist because of a lack of leadership
in the government.
“I want to show what’s going on because
I can relate with my family living there,”
she said.
Luisa wants to make a difference with her
writing. She hopes to effect change in the
world by writing about complex issues.
Viewing these conditions through the
eyes of a journalist, Luisa hopes to expose
them and sharpen the awareness of others.
“I would first research the past, then go
on to interview my grandmother and my
other relatives,” she said. “Then I would
probably live there for a year or so to get
in-depth as much as possible.”
Luisa’s future exposing oppression and
corruption has more innocent origins.
In the third grade, Luisa was really taken
with the adventure book “Hatchet” by Gary
Paulsen.
“When you are in the third grade, who
doesn’t like adventure?” she said.
Luisa wrote adventure stories and became
hooked on the writing process.
“It naturally came to me,” she said, “I
was reading books all the time and I wanted
to write so I could read my own books.”
In the fourth grade, she and a classmate
wrote two short stories on the potato famine
in Ireland.
“It started as a workshop,” Luisa said.
“We had a conference with the teacher and
getting good feedback on it helped me start
writing seriously.”
With the many books she has read, there
are a few that have had an influence on her.
“Walden” by Henry David Thoreau and
“Siddhartha” by Herman Hesse rank among
Luisa’s favorites.
“Somehow I could always relate to
them,” she said, “however I am feeling.”
The topics of these books and how they
were expressed influenced Luisa and helped
develop ideas for her writing. She found
that she could write articulately in a poetic
manner similar to the books she reads.
Luisa will be editor in chief this fall for
her school newspaper. She plans on learning
the job and is up to the task.
“Learning as I go along means learning
about how to interact and work with student
journalists to create a great newspaper,” she
said. “Learning how to keep students interested and motivated throughout the year
may be challenging.”
After completing high school, Luisa
plans to attend college and study English,
economics and international relations. Then
she would like to study law specializing in
human rights and international arbitration.
Whether she becomes an attorney or a
writer, Luisa knows one thing for sure: “I
have found that I am happiest when I feel I
am making a difference in my community,
on both a small and large scale. Whether it
be writing an investigative article, volunteering every weekend for an organization,
or simply smiling at the person I pass by
on the street, that is my hope: that I can do
good things in my life.”
Passion
emerges from
zest for music
me love music that much more, that I can be
independent while learning and growing.”
Playing the piano takes up much of
Olivia’s free time. Sometimes, she comes
home from school and spends hours playing
and composing music.
For Olivia, composing provides a different
kind of enjoyment from playing. Although
composing can be challenging, she said, the
feeling of creating something and having
it sound the way she wants it to sound is a
prize in itself.
“I like playing music that I make up on
the spot,” said Olivia. “It doesn’t always turn
out well but I think that’s the point. Enjoying
it doesn’t necessarily mean that it has to be
good.”
Olivia’s love for music transcends the
boundaries of genres. Although she enjoys
the sound of classical music, her true passion
lies in the melancholy feel of blues music.
But her tastes are eclectic. By glancing at her
iPod it is easy to see her love for rock, indierock and hip-hop.
Olivia is heavily influenced by Tori Amos,
a classically trained musician who, like
Olivia, uses piano as the main part of her
songs. But the Portland teen said that on
school nights she often blasts Ray Charles
and Stevie Wonder as she frantically finishes
homework.
She also expresses her love of music
through dance, twirling her 5-foot-7-inch
frame in hip-hop and ballet.
“I love dancing to hip-hop music,” said
Olivia with a content look on her face. “I
think that it is because I listen [to the] music
so much that dancing to it feels natural.”
Seven years after first touching piano keys
Olivia finds music no less appealing; instead,
her dedication to music has intensified over
time.
Olivia does not yet know where her
musical talent and interest will lead her. She
hopes to follow her dreams to The Juilliard
School for music or dance, but for now she
is content with hearing the beautiful notes
surround her as she loses herself in another
world.
Luisa Anderson
Olivia Jones-Hall
Deepthika Ennamuri
on Olivia Jones-Hall
Olivia Jones-Hall taps her Converse-covered foot on the piano pedal, engrossed in
the music as her silver-ringed fingers glide
over the ivory keys.
The 14-year-old with thick brown curls
spends hours playing her piano, listening to
the melodies and harmonies she creates. Her
love of music stretches back to when she
was a young girl.
Although her parents divorced when
Olivia was 1, they strongly influenced the
Franklin High School sophomore’s zest for
music. Both played in bands, and her father
still does. Her mother no longer plays in a
band, but she continues to play the guitar
and sing.
Olivia’s passion for music developed
when she was 8, when she and her mother
house-sat for friends. The house had a piano
and Jones-Hall taught herself how to play
“The Entertainer” by learning the keys as
shown by the highlighted notes on the screen
of an electronic keyboard.
Olivia’s mother later bought Olivia a keyboard and she learned to play by listening to
songs over and over and then trying to repeat
the music.
Despite her love for music, the teen with
light brown eyes found taking formal piano
lessons wasn’t as beneficial as she might
have thought. Learning piano on her own,
she said, proved more rewarding and increased her appreciation of the instrument.
“It was just way more meaningful and
fun learning to play the piano and improving on my own,” said Jones-Hall. “It makes
“Diversity gets all sides of the opinion spectrum in a newspaper.” — Eta Santoro
Dance, romance and happy endings
ROSA INOCENCIO SMITH
on SHANNON COX
Shannon Cox
Whenever she is worried or in trouble,
when her parents fight or when she fights
with them, whenever real life strays from the
ideal story line, Shannon Cox finds refuge in
a book.
“It’s like stepping into someone else’s life,”
she says. “You know that they are going to
have a happy ending, and so you pretend that
their happy ending is yours.”
At 17, the soft-spoken, self-described romantic knows that happy endings can be hard
to come by. Even as she seeks out romance
everywhere around her, she has seen that love
can sometimes be a struggle. But Shannon is
certain that happiness is possible for everyone, or, at least, that it should be.
“I’m one of those people who believes that
everyone deserves to have someone who loves
them,” she says, a note of firmness creeping
into her usually gentle voice.
She insists on romance in every book that
she reads, and she’ll find it even if it isn’t
there: a hint of attraction somewhere in the
dialogue, or two characters who could fall in
love in a potential sequel. She prefers happy
endings, because sad endings make her cry.
She says that seeing people unhappy is “the
worst thing” for her, and among the captains
on the state champion dance team at Rex
Putnam High, she is “the quiet one who gets
along with everybody.” Though she seems shy
on first acquaintance, it only takes one conversation to reveal that she is talkative, friendly,
and energetic, with a strong sense of humor
and passionate beliefs. She also admits to a
volatile temper, which used to lead to frequent
fights with her older brother, Cameron.
During one argument, Shannon remembers
throwing a hairbrush at him so hard that it
broke in two when it hit the wall. Luckily,
Cameron ducked.
As a young child growing up in Milwaukie,
Shannon was eager to learn to read. “My dad
… told me he would be really proud of me
if I learned to read before any of my friends,
so I would spend hours working on reading
with my mom so that I could read to him
when he got home.” But she didn’t really get
excited about books until she was in fourth or
fifth grade, when, she remembers, a book she
was reading for a school project — a chapter
book about a teenage competitive swimmer
— made her realize, “Hey, I really like this.”
Soon, Shannon was reading all the time.
Between fourth, fifth and sixth grades, it took
her a little more than a year to exhaust the
selection of books in her library’s young-adult
section. Now that she’s moved on to adult
books, she sometimes catches disapproving
looks from people who see her with romances
intended for older readers.
“Maybe I am getting ahead of myself,”
she admits. “But … I like people happy, and
there’s usually nothing that makes people happier than being in love.”
Shannon should know. Right now, hanging
out with her boyfriend, Daniel, is one of her
favorite things to do.
“I’m just really happy with Daniel,” she
says softly. “He makes me happy.”
She realizes that some elements of the
romance novels she reads — the flowery
language, for example — are unrealistic. She
would never expect Daniel to speak or act like
one of the heroes of romantic fiction — nor
would she necessarily want him to. After all,
no matter how perfect the lives of her favorite
fictional characters, they have their basis in
reality, and reality can offer even more beautiful endings.
Just take the elderly couple whom
Shannon’s dad pointed out to her one day at
the grocery store.
“They were tiny and wrinkly and hobbling
along — and they were holding each other’s
hands.… Not just, you know, holding hands
— like, their fingers were entwined.… They
were supporting each other — not necessarily
physically, but psychologically, just by being
there.… And I turned around with this huge
smile on my face, and my dad was like, ‘I
knew you would like that.’”
‘Not everybody is cherries,
bonbons and unicorns’
ARAINNIA BROWN
on MORGAN CHAN
Morgan Chan, 17, sits calmly in the huge
yellow chair. An answer clicks quickly in
her mind. Twisting her prematurely graystreaked locks, her wide smile brightens the
room as she talks away. Her mellow laid-back
personality soon starts to loosen up as she
sits comfortably back and tells the story of
her life.
Morgan, a soon-to-be senior at Tigard High
School, is indeed looking forward to her last
year in high school. “I’m sick of it,” she says,
“I’m ready to get away from stupid people.”
She hopes for a refreshing drama-free
life next year. She has been involved with a
wide variety of school activities since sixth
grade. Morgan uses her creativity to produce
layouts for her school’s newspaper cover and
for her school’s yearbook. She also contributes her musical skills to the school’s winter
drumline. Morgan has been playing the flute
for six years, while also learning the flow of
drumline beat for three years.
Even though Morgan seems like the average teenager who’s trying to survive a brutal
high school load — taking International
Baccalaureate (IB) Chemistry 2 and IB Physics 1 classes — she has encountered some
heartbreaking issues, which have helped
her become a stronger person.
“Freshman year was great because of
friends,” Morgan says as a smile lights
up her entire face. However her life took
a drastic change before sophomore year.
Some of her best friends turned on her.
Her boyfriend broke up with her because he had different priorities that she
didn’t agree with. Unfortunately, some
of Morgan’s close friends decided to use
drugs. Morgan says the thought of putting
illegal drugs in their bodies doesn’t faze her
friends one bit; they feel it’s not a big deal.
“People I thought were good started to
change, my friends started using drugs, so
I had to back away,” Morgan says. “They
inspire me not to be like them.”
Not only has Morgan faced some hard
friendship issues, she also has encountered
some family ones. “In 10th grade my dad was
diagnosed with liver cancer,” she says. He got
a liver transplant.
Even with her family worrying about her
father, the relationship with her mother and
little sister remained the same. “My family
is not as open-minded as me, they are too
conservative, too Republican for me. My
little sister is like a little miss perfect, and
my father, well, we seem to have different
Morgan Chan
opinions about everything, such as politics
and my future goals,” she says.
But no matter how Morgan feels about her
family, she still loves them and knows how to
cope with their differences, even if they don’t
always see eye to eye.
In spite of all the difficulties Morgan has
encountered in her life so far, somehow she
finds the strength within to remain calm.
Throughout her life people have come and
gone and it hurt for some time. But Morgan
has learned to let them go and live her own
life. She has managed to learn from her
mistakes and grow. Now she knows how to
choose her friends more wisely.
“I have learned not everybody is cherries, bonbons and unicorns; not everybody
is nice,” she says with a giggle. “Guard
yourself; a person shouldn’t live a life where
you don’t trust people.”
Morgan is planning to have a calm and
under-control final year at Tigard High. She
will be returning to her school’s newspaper
as an editor. She also hopes to be an editor on
yearbook staff.
Also she will be getting into shape for
drumline. She says it is painful and hard work
doing a short sprint while holding a 40-pound
drum. But it’s definitely all worth it. Overall
she loves the adrenaline rush of performing.
She intends on living her last year in high
school to the fullest. She’s ready for a fresh
start. Morgan is not allowing the people in
her past to make her feel down any more.
Regardless of everything she will continue to
be herself and maintain her happiness.
“Diversity means a stronger community.” — Ning Ning Yang
Perfection among paint spills
JENNIFER SHIM
on NING NING YANG
Chemical smells of turpentine and musty
scents of oil paints permeate a garage covered
in drop cloths that protect the floor from
messy paint splatters. A lonely easel rests in
the center of the brightly lit room, while Beaverton artist Ning Ning Yang paints a detailed
portrait of a wrinkly and aged Buddhist monk
from a cutout National Geographic photo.
For Ning Ning, painting has been an eyeopening experience consisting of painting
landscapes and, more often now, people.
“I prefer to draw old faces with wrinkles,”
Ning Ning says. “They can be more complex
and take a lot more time. But there is more to
see and they say more than younger faces do,
which are not as matured.”
She has been painting for more than 10
Ning Ning Yang
years and started taking classes when she was
just 6 years old. This joy for art has pushed
her into taking art courses at school even to
this day, including Advanced Placement Art
for fall.
But even though painting may have started
as a mere hobby, it has become a refuge amid
her hectic schedule.
“I paint to express things about life. It helps
to express emotions in ways other than using
words,” says Ning Ning.
Saturated colors flood her taut canvas
stretched over a wooden frame that sits on the
upright easel. Lights and darks outline images
from the fabric screen, creating a dramatic
effect on the monk’s face. To add depth to
her paintings, Ning Ning uses high-contrast
colors.
“While light, pastel colors can be uplifting,
extremely saturated colors can have the same
effect,” Ning Ning says. “They are just more
modern.”
Just like the colors on her paint palette,
Ning Ning’s personality is full of intensity.
She speaks with speed and draws in listeners
with her competitive-debate-level words per
minute.
The 16-year-old incoming junior at Westview High School doesn’t just put far-reaching concern into her art, but also into her
everyday life. She proves self-motivated, and
doesn’t depend on her parents to plan her life.
Instead, Ning Ning’s parents are more of a
calming influence like her art — encouraging
her to take it easy, rather than pushing her
harder.
This self-motivation has allowed her to
discover her own artistic style. Among Ning
Ning’s art supplies, she has arranged an array
of colorful acrylics and oil paints paired with
a series of four or five brushes. But inside the
wide stash of art equipment, watercolors are
uncommon.
“I work in all mediums, but I prefer to work
with acrylic and oil since watercolor can be
messy,” says Ning Ning.
This clean detail fits Ning Ning well,
though, because her personality seems to accommodate organization in everyday life. She
breaks everything down into lists of things
to do. Tackling things one by one, Ning Ning
works efficiently and in an organized manner.
Whether she’s wearing her old and messy
clothes to avoid getting dirty from painting
or her oversized knit sweater paired with
casual dark jeans and stylish glasses accenting
her metallic braces when she goes out, Ning
Ning seems to be at peace even away from
her paints and brushes. She could be painting
from an old photo in her secluded garage or a
landscape in a nearby park, but Ning Ning’s
art will always remain important to her.
“I used to paint landscape often at the park,
but people probably thought I was creepy
since I was always there,” Ning Ning says,
laughing. “So now I work at home, and it
is actually more accessible since the light
doesn’t change like natural light outside
Striving for happiness
in an imperfect world
MORGAN CHAN
on ARAINNIA BROWN
6:45 a.m., the lights flash, the bells ring,
music is in her head and a new day begins.
A quick touch of a button mellows out the
ruckus, and by “letting a new day be a new
beginning,” Arainnia Brown, 16, a junior at
Grant High School, starts things off.
Finally ready at 6:48 a.m., after brushing
teeth, washing her face and styling her hair,
“Rainny’s” attitude is all sunshine.
Not all of Arainnia’s life has been pictureperfect, but making the best of things is what
she is striving for. Trying to “live life with no
regrets, and living it to the fullest,” Arainnia is
on her way to success.
With a family history of drugs and broken
relationships, Arainnia strives to make a
better life for herself. Her father, Ron Brown,
walked out on her at age 2, and then came
back at age 7. Her mother, Monika Johnson,
has always been there for her. She has been
surrounded by what she calls super-women.
Keeping their cool in tough situations, her
mother, grandmother, aunts and older cousins
are strong female influences on Arainnia’s
life.
Arainnia is finding ways to forgive, rebuilding a strong relationship with her father. “Now
he is the best!” she says. He’s back in her life
and they couldn’t be happier. His disappearing act wasn’t expected, but he put forth a
serious effort to mend what had been broken,
she says. Supported all along, Arainnia has a
strong family base behind her, regardless of
what has happened.
In third grade, there were three girls who
bullied Arainnia. When they wouldn’t allow
her to sit on a certain spot of carpet during
a movie, she started crying. In elementary
school she was a pushover, but quickly found
out how to hold her own. By seventh grade,
Arainnia was sick of being pushed around.
“What’s the point of being nice to
someone who isn’t going to be nice to
you?” she said. Now she is confident in
herself and isn’t afraid to speak her mind.
Arainnia became her own person. Being
loud with friends, and discovering that
maturing doesn’t necessarily mean being
an adult, she is finding comfort in her own
skin.
Learning from her own and others’ mistakes, Arainnia has knowledge beyond her
years. Past family incidents and memories
of her own relationships keep her from
repeating an undesirable history. “You
should never trust a guy fully; if they hurt
you it’s not their life that’s affected, it’s
yours. Really know a person before you
trust them,” she says.
Arainnia has a close guard on her heart,
picking wisely before revealing everything. Sophomore year, Arainnia got hung
up on a senior boy. Losing herself in a sea
of emotions, she allowed her happiness
to be controlled by his disappearance.
Four months of talking and summertime
chats and then, out of the blue, the fun
ended. Realizing that her own joy was in
jeopardy, she began to turn things around.
Vowing never to let a boy control her emotions again, Arainnia is responsible for her
own feelings.
As she pursues the hurdles and 4x1
relay in track, sports are filling her life
with adrenaline-pumped bliss. Sophomore
year was jam-packed with soccer and her
first year of track; timing was an obstacle
but it was overcome. “It motivated me to try
something new, it made me stronger,” she
said. Playing sports keeps her grounded and
that’s where she’s staying.
It’s impossible to ignore Arainnia’s polite
manners and positive personality. She’s quick
Arainnia Brown
to apologize as she quickly finishes a text,
then completely focuses her attention on you.
“She’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever
meet, she has a really bubbly personality. She
never says anything mean about anyone,” her
good friend Stephanee Wilson, 16, exclaims.
Arainnia is excited to finally be an upperclassman, and have the authority to rule the
school. “I’m looking forward to the last two
years of high school and having fun with my
friends,” she says.
Summing up a good day — a dinner with
mom and a chat about their days — Arainnia
gets ready to turn in. She shoots off the last
few texts of the day, tucking in to end one day,
waiting for a new beginning the next morning.
“Diversity is important because people should hear more than one voice.” — Alex Chan
Learning from her past, finding her potential
Nora Sanchez on Danelly Muniz
Seeing your dad through a wired glass window at a Utah jailhouse is not a typical visit to your dad’s.
But 12-year-old Danelly Muniz was standing in a narrow booth
with her mother, listening to her father’s voice on the other side
of the telephone line, even though she was only a foot away from
him.
“It was hard for me, because I wanted to hug him and just
wanted to be with him,” said Danelly, who also goes by Nelly.
Growing up in a unstable family, Nelly had to endure her par-
ents’ separation and did not have a permanent home. She also had
to learn English and switch schools.
As a result, she lost confidence in her schoolwork and in herself.
She would have to learn from teachers about the many opportunities available to her. And that it was up to Nelly to change and
build herself a stable life.
Her parents’ problems began even before she was born. While
her mother was pregnant with Nelly, she moved from California
to Mexico, so that Nelly would not be involved with her father
because of his problems with drugs. Nelly was born in Tepic, in
the Mexican state of Nayarit. The relationship between Nelly and
Danelly Muniz
Listening for
inspiration
Ning Ning Yang
on Jennifer Shim
Jennifer Shim, 17 and a lifelong resident
of Portland, sits in an unadorned chair in her
basement, her metronome beating out a staccato
rhythm. The white glare of the fluorescent lights
falls on her as she puts her sheet music into a
folder. She takes a sip of water, taking a break
from practicing her cello as she contemplates
her membership in the Portland Youth Philharmonic.
Despite expecting a tough senior year at
Sunset High, she is hesitant about giving up
orchestra next year. Leaving would mean giving
up the bright lights of the stage, a community
of like-minded peers and a group she has been
a part of since eighth grade. In fact, it would be
fair to say that music dominates Jennifer’s life.
Jennifer started with piano, then picked up
violin, which she quit because it was too highpitched and overly competitive. Then she picked
up cello while still playing piano. But she soon
found out that first, she disliked piano competitions, and second, playing two instruments at
the same time was too difficult. So she chose the
cello and has focused on it ever since.
At the mere mention of cello, or indeed music
in general, Jennifer straightens her back from her
habitually relaxed posture, leans forward slightly
and allows her usually measured voice to gather
speed as she lauds the cello. To her, the greatest
things about the cello are “the opportunities it
has given me and the opportunity to meet other
people who appreciate classical music,” which
has fallen by the wayside with many teens.
This is not true for Jennifer.
Jennifer Shim
her father consisted of the few months each year when he visited
her and her older sister in Mexico. He was very strict, would get
upset for the smallest reasons, and disciplined the sisters by spanking, Nelly remembers.
The family of three moved to the U.S. so that they could start
a better life. Eventually, Nelly learned that her father was in jail
because police found drugs at his home.
As a single parent, it was very hard for her mother to support
two young girls. For some time, they were homeless and would
have to stay with relatives.
Nelly entered kindergarten not knowing any English, but she
learned to speak it with the help of the television and by hanging
out with other Latino children who spoke English. By learning the
language, she began to understand her surroundings and started
applying herself more to her school work.
In middle school, she was a 4.0 student. Nelly made good
friends and she met teachers who taught her new things. Nelly
started to think about what career she wanted and what life she
wanted to create for herself. She became interested in forensics,
because of a “Scooby-Doo” show she liked to watch, in which the
character Daphne Blake is a detective.
When she switched from Reynolds Middle School to Parkrose
Middle School, Nelly realized that the two schools were very different. At Parkrose, the teachers were not very helpful, Nelly said.
The new friends she met drove her away from school work. Her
attitude changed from being a very respectful person to arguing
with her mother most of the time. She skipped school and her
grades dropped.
She wasn’t thinking about her future anymore.
But Nelly’s teachers didn’t give up on her. They noticed that she
was really bright and that she wanted to learn. They introduced her
to AVID — which stands for Advancement Via Individual Determination — a program at Parkrose High School where students
learn how to prepare for college. The teachers gathered with her
mother to let her know about the program. Nelly decided to be part
of it, because she realized she wanted to accomplish her goal of
being a forensic investigator.
Nelly, now 15, became the girl with the good grades, avoided
trouble and became a positive influence on other students. She
pictured herself with a full scholarship to Princeton University, one
of the best in the country.
Nerissa Ediza, a journalism teacher who teaches an AVID class
at Parkrose, noticed how bright Nelly is. She wanted to show
her the opportunities available to her and to help her prepare for
college.
“I think Danelly has so much potential and she is starting to see
it in herself,” said Ediza, who is also an instructor at the Newspaper Institute. “She is like a bright star that is just learning to shine.”
When asked about her favorite piece, her answer is quick and well-thought-out. She declares
Mahler’s Fifth Symphony, which she played
in the Portland Youth Philharmonic last year, a
“really impressive piece” that she likes because
“it covers a wide range of emotions,” from the
“heart-pumping” first and last movements to the
“love letter” in the middle.
On love, Jennifer has much to say about the
familial variety — her mother, father and older
sister have always supported her in life and with
the cello. She calls her older sister, Jessica, her
hero.
Of her family, Jennifer says, “they’ve really
shown me how my morals should be (and taught
me) cultural traditions such as respecting the
elders.” They encourage Jennifer to do music
because “they knew that I wasn’t into sports, so
they encouraged me to do music instead.”
By no means, however, is Jennifer’s family
a traditional one; her father has been working
in South Korea for a little more than a year, and
her main modes of communication with him
are video chats and phone calls. Paradoxically,
despite this distance, Jennifer says she and her
father have gotten “a little closer because we talk
a lot when we do talk. He asks what’s going on
with my life, including school, which he never
did before, because he used to be able to see me
and know that I was OK.”
Jennifer describes herself as an “uncompetitive” person whose sole aspiration is a desire to
impact society sometime in the future. But she
leaves one with an impression not of laziness,
but rather of passionate dedication to an instrument she both loves and admires. While she
may not believe she can change the world with
music, it is obvious that the world of music has
changed and shaped the trajectory of her life in
many ways.
It is, Jennifer says, “a really good place to get
rid of stress… as a calming experience that I
can’t really get anywhere else.”
“Diversity allows for the media to provide more than one perspective.” — Luisa Anderson
A free spirit, flying high
Maya Allen on Ivanna Tucker
Ivanna Tucker is a burst of happiness.
It’s in her smile, attitude and pep in her step.
It’s expressed through her brightly colored wardrobe, multicolored nails and piano-patterned sweatshirt.
It shows in her bold, outgoing personality, which she expresses
in her musical talents and unquestioned love for theater.
And although Ivanna appears to be a typical teenage girl, her
history suggests different. She will be a junior this fall at Parkrose
High School, but grew up in environments very unlike Portland,
making change a constant in Tucker’s world.
Unlike many Portland natives, Ivanna has lived in parts of
the country that are very different from Oregon. Her friends, ad-
dresses, schools and acquaintances have never been the same for
a long period of time. In 16 years, she has called three different
states her home.
She was born in Rochester, N.Y., moved to Brookhaven, Miss.,
at age 5, and to Portland at 11.
“Where I lived was full of Jamaicans,” Ivanna said of Rochester.
“My neighbors were Jamaicans, my godfather was Jamaican,
everybody was Jamaican. I just remember it being a good, wholesome environment. Everybody knew everybody.”
Ivanna, with her six siblings — five sisters, one brother — began a new life in Brookhaven with her mother, Sharon Tucker. Her
father, Ivann Tucker, was separated from her mother at the time,
but moved with the family to Portland.
It was strange for her as a young girl, switching her environment, lifestyle and home so fast.
“It has shown me that even though everything changes around
you, you’ve still got to remain yourself and be strong.”
Ivanna Tucker
Ivanna, the second youngest in her family, has had different
experiences growing up than the average teen. Motivation and
pressure from her older siblings have pushed her to achieve more
and do better.
Ivanna’s brother Mark Brumfield, 25, has been by her side all
her life. He has been there through most trials and tribulations that
have shaped her into who she is today.
“She’s everything you want a little sister to be,” Brumfield said.
“She’s smart, independent, nice — and sometimes mean,” he
replied, with a light laugh. “I want her to lead a path where she
can be happy. Ultimately, I want her to go further from what I did,
and set a good example for our little sister.”
Although accepting change no longer is an issue for Ivanna,
there were still roadblocks in her journey. In Mississippi, Ivanna
can only remember one or two white students in her class. When
she came to Portland in fourth grade, she said, she was mostly
around white people. The majority in her life prior to Portland had
become the minority.
Before moving to Portland, Ivanna does not remember ever
having seen an Asian or Hispanic person except on television.
Yet, Portland quickly intrigued her, and now is her favorite place
she has lived by far.
“I just feel more settled here,” Ivanna said with a reassuring
smile. “In Portland it does not matter your age, height, race,
sexual orientation, anything! They welcome them all. I have more
bright-colored friends here.”
It wasn’t easy for her at first, but by fifth grade she found the
confidence to explore theater. Ivanna said theater is a way to
express herself without being judged. She can be herself.
Still, for Ivanna, lead roles are not all that important. Being a
positive role model and thinking of the group makes Tucker a
leader. “You gotta to be a team player.”
Looking ahead, performing arts are a big part of Ivanna’s life,
and her future is filled with many more hopes and dreams. She
plans to attend college at University of Oregon or Columbia
University in New York City — “right down the street from
Broadway,” she said, smiling. She hopes to major in marketing
and dance.
Ivanna can see a career as a dance teacher. She wants to stay
involved in dance since it has been such a great experience in her
life so far.
But if an acting gig comes her way in the future, she will definitely take the opportunity. Her dreams are unlimited, unending
and soon to be fulfilled.
“If it’s a way to express myself, I’ll do it,” Ivanna said.
“That’s just what keeps me pushing,” she said with a smile that
never left her face.
Leading the way
through volunteering
Carlie Deltoro on Mariela Miller
On a brisk spring morning, Mariela Miller found herself surrounded by tall Douglas Firs, lost on a hike with six students.
Instead of panicking and telling them they were lost, she
made a lesson out of it. She pulled out the map and had a
student lead the way back to the base camp of Outdoor School,
right outside of Sandy, Ore.
From this, she learned that no matter what challenges she
faces, there’s always a way. Being a leader at Outdoor School
taught Mariela to be an independent person and to take charge
of a situation.
“It’s heartwarming seeing people receive help,” said Mariela,
16, a senior at Cleveland High School in Portland. “The smile
on their faces is rewarding.”
For one week each spring, Mariela mentors and leads eight
girls in a cabin. She wakes them up at 7 every morning, takes
them to breakfast and shepherds them to activities such as
communal campfires and field study classes on water, soil and
nature.
Mariela loves watching the kids grow and learn to love
Outdoor School, just as she did when she first attended as a
sixth-grader.
During her junior year as a student leader, Mariela’s partner
threw out her hip on the first day of camp. As a result, Mariela
was left alone with the eight girls, who she thought hated her.
“Before, I was just a follower,” said Mariela, as she shared
what she called her “single parent” experience. “Being a leader
of eight girls made me a leader.”
Mariela hopes to continue with Outdoor School in college by
working one-on-one with children who have special needs.
She also looks forward to mentoring younger students on her
high school newspaper staff.
Mariela already “lives in the newspaper room,” she said, and
holes up for 10 hours each deadline week finishing reporting
and designing layouts. In the end, she thinks it is time well
Mariela Miller
spent.
“Seeing my story published every month makes me ecstatic,“ she said, “I love informing people of issues and what’s
going on at school.“
Mariela filled an open space in her junior year schedule with
journalism, not knowing if she would like it. As time went
on, she realized she loved working on deadline, interviewing
people and the journalism community.
When not in the newspaper classroom, Mariela loves spending time with her mother, who adopted her from Tarija, Bolivia,
when Mariela was just 5 months old. They go to movies together, go grocery shopping and talk about everything.
“We call each other the Gilmore Girls,“ said Mariela,
referencing a TV show that portrays the relationship of a single
mom and her daughter’s relationship.
Mariela’s adoptive father passed away when she was 9, and
they didn’t develop as close of a relationship as she hoped. Her
father, who was in the Peace Corps, inspired her interest in
international studies.
Mariela hopes to attend Portland State University after high
school and to continue volunteering. She wants to double major
in journalism and international studies, and one day hopes to
travel across the globe and report on foreign news.
“It would be a dream come true,“ Mariela said.
THE
PRIDE
1. Ivanna Tucker
Parkrose
7. Maya allen
Grant
2. Eta Santoro
West Linn
8. Carlie Deltoro
Westview
3. Jennifer Shim
Sunset
9. Olyvia Chac
Marshall
4. Omega Mathews
Parkrose
10. Nora sanchez
South Albany
5. Shannon Cox
Rex Putman
11. Ariel barrientos
South Albany
6. Rosa inocencio Smith
Grant
12. Luisa Anderson
Arts & Communication
13. Maricruz
Gonzalez Vazquez
Arts & Communication
14. arainnia Brown
Grant
15. Olivia jones-hall
Franklin
16. Morgan chan
Tigard
17. Danelly Muniz
Parkrose
18. Mariela Miller
Cleveland
PHO TO BY STEPHA NI E YA O
19. Deepthika Ennamuri
Sunset
20. Cynthia Chand
Glencoe
21. Dora marchand
Parkrose
22. Ning Ning yang
Westview
23. Alex Chan
Sunset
24. JAmes Chavez
Madison
1
6
5
9
2
17
4
3
16
14
15
18
7
11
8
10
13
12
19
20
24
22
21
23

THE PriDE - Site Index

Transcription

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