When I first expressed interest in joining this publication, my mother was skeptical, and honestly, I don’t blame her for thinking that.
During middle school, I was a shy kid who always tried to find a way to get out of group work, and she rightfully had concerns about whether this class would be a good fit for me. However, I pressed on, requesting to take Digital Journalism 1, and she relented.
Now, I’m writing and editing my last articles as a Features Editor and am forever thankful for the time I got to spend here.
When I was a little girl, I struggled to get up in the morning for school. It was always something with me, whether I pretended to throw up or I miraculously gained a headache within 30 minutes of waking up. I was the queen of excuses... and then COVID hit.
Being stuck in my room was the least of my worries; it only brought the love to stay in my room to be at an all-time high, as the world was fearing for what was to come of this virus. Eighth grade was my first full year back, and I used my mother’s fear of the virus as another way to gain sympathy for why I should stay home. So I did.
Having a best friend who lives across the country is indescribable. People ask me what it’s like to have someone so special to me who is 1,118 miles away. Well...
One minute we were side by side with each other, making memories and most definitely laughing. Next, she’s packing up her life to move across the country.
From hangouts and sleepovers to Face Times and messages on a day to day basis as I hear all about her new friends and new life at her new school. And yet, I can’t stop but to think that they’re just so lucky to have her.
Home is supposed to be a place you leave and return to. For me, it became something more complicated, something I carry, something I miss, and something people here will never fully see.
I was born in Thailand, where I grew up surrounded by my cousins, who feel more like younger brothers, and the rest of my extended family. My grandmother and aunt raised me while my mom worked away from home. Life was simple. In a way, I didn’t realize what was special at the time: riding bikes through the neighborhood, buying snacks with my cousins, and growing up in a place where everyone knew each other. Even strangers felt familiar.
When I decided to write a senior column, I knew exactly what it would be about: My mom. She has always been there for me, even with two other siblings. She was able to manage us as well as multiple jobs.
From what I've seen my mom do for us, parenting is not easy, especially being the main support for our family. My parents divorced when I was only a toddler. Every week it was the same: Dad’s house on the weekends and Mom’s house on weekdays.
My mom was the only one paying for the three of us, working multiple shifts at different places, and working as a school nurse so she could spend summers with us. I never felt like my mother gave more attention to my siblings: she treated us all equally, playing card games after dinner almost every night, and being there to help me with my homework.