Here is the first stanza of a piece of slam poetry my buddy and I also wrote and performed at our school’s rendition of TED Talks.

Over lunch 1 day, we discovered we shared a passion—an that is common on equality in all forms, feminism in particular. We discussed the difficulty of combating social issues, but agreed that spreading awareness was one effective method. This casual exchange evolved into a project involving weeks of collaboration.

We realized that together we’re able to make a better impact so we composed a ten-minute poem aimed at inspiring people to consider important issues than we ever could have individually. We began by drafting stanzas, simultaneously editing one another’s writing, and soon after progressed to memorization, practicing together until our alternating lines flowed and phrases spoken together were completely synchronized. The performance was both memorable and successful, but more to the point, this collaboration motivated us to maneuver forward to ascertain the Equality Club at our school.

Sophomore year, our club volunteered with organizations promoting gender equality, the highlight of the season helping at a marathon for recovering abuse victims. Junior year, we met with this head of school to share our goals, outline plans and gain support for the year that is coming in which we held fundraisers for refugees while educating students. In 2010 we are collaborating using the Judicial Committee to reduce the use that is escalating of slurs in school stemming from a lack of awareness within the student body.

Using this experience, I learned that you can reach so much more people when working together instead of apart.

Moreover it taught me that the most crucial facet of collaborating is believing within the cause that is same the main points will come provided that there is a shared passion.

“It’s a hot and humid day in Swat Valley, Pakistan

A young student boards the college bus since walking is not any longer safe

She sits, chatting with her friends after a day that is long of

A person jumps on the bus and pulls out a gun

The very last thing the girl remembers is the sound of three gunshots

Her name is Malala and she was fourteen years of age

Shot for no good reason other than her desire to learn

We shall FIGHT until girls don’t live with concern with attending school

We will FIGHT until education is a freedom, the right, an expectation for everybody”

This is actually the first stanza of a piece of slam poetry my buddy and I wrote and performed at our school’s rendition of TED Talks. Over lunch one day, we discovered we shared a common passion—an insistence on equality in all forms, feminism in particular. We discussed the issue of combating social issues, but agreed that spreading awareness was one effective method. This casual exchange evolved into a project involving weeks of collaboration.

We realized that together we’re able to make a lot better impact so we composed a ten-minute poem aimed at inspiring people to consider important issues than we ever could have individually. We began by drafting stanzas, simultaneously editing one another’s writing, and soon after progressed to memorization, practicing together until our alternating lines flowed and phrases spoken together were completely synchronized. The performance was both memorable and successful, but more to the point, this collaboration motivated us to go forward to determine the Equality Club at our school.

Sophomore year, our club volunteered with organizations gender that is promoting, the highlight of the season helping at a marathon for recovering abuse victims.

Junior year, we met with this head of school to share our goals, outline plans and gain support for the approaching year, in which we held fundraisers for refugees while educating students. This year we have been collaborating using the Judicial Committee to cut back the use that is escalating of slurs at school stemming from too little awareness in the student body.

Out of this experience, I discovered that you’re able to reach so much more people when working together as opposed to apart. In addition taught me that the key facet of collaborating is believing in the cause that is same the details should come as long as there is certainly a shared passion.

Legends, lore, and comic books all feature mystical, beautiful beings and superheroes—outspoken powerful Greek goddesses, outspoken Chinese maidens, and outspoken blade-wielding women. As a kid, I soared the skies with my angel wings, battled demons with katanas, and helped stop everyday crime (not to mention had a hot boyfriend). Simply speaking, i desired to save the whole world.

But growing up, my definition of superhero shifted. My peers praised people who loudly fought inequality, who rallied and shouted against hatred. As a journalist on a social-justice themed magazine, I spent more hours at protests, understanding and interviewing but not quite feeling inspired by their work.

In the beginning, I despaired. I quickly realized: I’m not a superhero.

I’m just a 17-year-old girl with a Nikon and a notepad—and I like it that way.

And yet—i wish to save the whole world.

This understanding didn’t arrive as a bright, thundering revelation; it settled in softly on a warm spring night before my 17th birthday, around the fourth hour of crafting my journalism portfolio. I was determing the best photos I’d taken around town through the 2016 presidential election when I unearthed two shots.

The first was from a peace march—my classmates, rainbows painted to their cheeks and bodies covered with American flags. One raised a bullhorn to her mouth, her lips forming a loud O. Months later, i really could still hear her voice.

The 2nd was different. The cloudy morning following election night appeared to shroud the college in gloom. Into the mist, however—a golden face, with dark hair and two moon-shaped eyes, faces the camera. Her freckles, sprinkled like distant stars across the what is edubirdies.org expanse of her round cheeks, only accentuated her childlike features and put into the soft feel of this photo. Her eyes bore into something beyond the lens, beyond the photographer, beyond the viewer—everything is rigid, from the jut of her jaw, to her brows that are stitched her upright spine and arms locked across her chest, to her shut mouth.

I picked the second picture within a heartbeat.

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