Student’s Writings

Topic: STUFF. We’re surrounded by stuff in life…and in the TCS classroom. Stuff we barely notice. The students were challenged to focus their creativity on a tangible bit of the room they occupy every day.

RYLEE…looks at, around, and through the school’s front window and relates it to her personal TCS journey.

A View Into Lives

I remember driving past this school for the first time before I even applied. I saw a student turn off the lights, and then the blinds to the window closed. I sorta envisioned myself here at that moment I suppose, only for a second, and then my mom drove off. I would soon return to this school to check out the perimeter. Of course, this time I had already applied. I looked through the window again, and this time I noticed all of the art work that sat there. I was fairly impressed, I must admit. Wrapping my head around that this was really was a school still wasn’t fully there though. Time passed, and I was invited in for a shadow day. When I walked up to the school, I looked through the window once again. This time I noticed the students, students that seemed to be here their whole lives almost. 

I finally made my way into the school and I was greeted by Mr Tom. We talked and whatnot,and then, I was directed to my seat. I find it funny how my current seat is very much similar to where I sat that shadowday. I remember looking through the window on multiple occasions, and I’d see a lot  of people walking by, and a numerous amount of cars driving by. I would eventually see my mom’s car stop in front of the school through the window. To be honest, I was more than happy to go home because, quite frankly, I was nervous, tired, and hungry. That moment was one of the first emotions that window gave me. Some time after, I would go in for an interview, one of my first interviews actually. That night, I  brought my mom back into the school after the interview, and I looked at Mr Tom through the window on my way inside the building. I remotely remember looking at him not as an interviewer, but as a teacher that played a role in my  future.

Once the school year started, it was a bit rough for me going into my 2nd and 3rd week. I remember constantly looking through the window and seeing people walk by with free will. Jealousy took over me sometimes. I felt like school and homework was my whole life and my life would continue to look like this for the next four years. I started to consider doing nothing with my life if it meant working like this every day to get a good paying job. Eventually, I did realize that I had free will too. It just matters how I used it. After that, things started to look better for me. There are still some moments that I could utilize my time better, but when I look through the window now, I see the world with individuals that all have their own life, and I’ve learned to appreciate mine. 

Rylee Breeden

11/14/25

Topic: STUFF. We’re surrounded by stuff in life…and in the TCS classroom. Stuff we barely notice. The students were challenged to focus their creativity on a tangible bit of the room they occupy every day.

JUDAH…personifies the omnipresent student water bottles with humor, pathos and street cred.

Stuff. (Yeah that’s the title).

It was a peaceful early morning when me and my people were violently grabbed by giant hands that fell from the sky. I was enclosed in darkness until I woke up in a room. We were spread apart in the room. My wife and my best friend were placed in a corner while I was far away on another desk. At first, everything was quiet. Until I witnessed the unthinkable. My wife was picked up off a table and water was forced down her throat. Then one of the giants lifted her up to their face and started sucking the life out of her. The same happened to my best friend. I was then grabbed and taken to another room, I wasn’t even able to process what had happened. 

When I got to the room a name tag was placed on me. It read Mohamed. I was then left in the room… Traumatized. The room was dark and I was placed in a cup holder so I couldn’t turn my head around but I heard a voice. 

Crackhead bottle: “Yo n**ga, what up”?

Me: Hello, is someone there? Who are you?

Crackhead bottle: You know who I am, I’m Crackhead bottle and you, owe me money, n**ga!!! 

Me: I don’t even know who you are, why would I owe you money-

Just then the giants came back into the room and grabbed us again. We were taken into another room and I was able to get a good glimpse of Crackhead bottle. He was a bottle with a red cap and cow prints and he had a long beard and a name tag that said Kennedy. We were then placed in a room with other bottles… but these ones were different. I was used to the bottles of my tribe which were all black bottles, but these bottles were pink and purple. When the giants left the room, some of the pink and purple bottles started closing in on me and Crackhead bottle. “What are you doing here?” a giant bright pink and purple bottle yelled. 

Me: “We were grabbed and taken in here”. Do you have any idea of what’s going on?”

Pink and purple bottle: If I knew anything I wouldn’t tell the likes of you people. 

Me: What do you mean “you people”. 

Crackhead bottle: Ya’ll need to calm down before the giants hear us and force us to deepthroat their water. We should come to an agreement and rise up to the giant forces.

Me: He’s right. Fighting amongst ourselves is going to get us nowhere. We need to figure out a plan.

So we started planning. The next giant came to grab us, we were ready. Right when they opened the door, we all jumped out and attacked them in the face. Then we rolled down to an open area with a whole bunch of giants. But we were prepared. We started by rolling around to make them trip over us and then we stepped on their faces. After the bloodshed was done, no giant had survived and we had to create a living system for our people to live as one. In the end, everyone lived happily ever after. The End.

Judah E. Patterson

11/14/2025

STUFF. We’re surrounded by stuff in life…and in the TCS classroom. Stuff we barely notice. The students were challenged to focus their creativity on a tangible bit of the room they occupy every day.

JORDAN…takes up the plight of the long-suffering voiceless inhabitants of the fish tank…Fish Lives Matter, Too.

The Tank 

You would think that I love my life, but I don’t. I’m the most mistreated animal in history, besides hamsters. You flush me down the toilet when you don’t need me anymore. I get stuck in the same, musty tank for days without it being cleaned. I bet you already knew this, but I’m a fish. Specifically, a fish in The Community School. Of course, Hector forgot to feed us again, like he always does. I don’t know why Mr. Tom thought it was a good idea to put our lives in the hands of the most forgetful person in the school.

Also, my health makes life so much harder. I have a bad case of fish asthma. My gills can’t take in enough water, so I feel every bit of pressure in my tiny fish heart. Of course these humans don’t understand anything about fish. That’s why I’m planning to gather all of the fish in the tank for a meeting. We can’t keep living like this under the authoritarian rule of the homosapien species. I call this revolution Fish Lives Matter, or FLM for short. We have been abused, tortured, and eaten for years without a second thought. 

Every other object in the room has it easy, because they’re not living things. They don’t go through the struggles we have to deal with. Being a book on the shelf wouldn’t be so bad, but no. I had to get stuck as a boring fish that nobody cares about. The only thing that’s keeping me around is my beautiful, shiny scales. I’ll probably get replaced soon if I don’t stay alive long enough to make it past December. I may have a better tank than most fish, but that still doesn’t make life any easier. 

Maybe my life would have been better as a hermit crab or one of the snails that cleans the tank. I would give anything to see the world outside of this tiny classroom. I just want to appreciate the value of life and fight fish oppression without being another soul flushed down the toilet. Tonight, Fish Lives Matter will be in full effect.

Jordan Smith

11/14/25

CHANGED FOR GOOD…The students were asked to reflect on a relationship that has affected their life for the better

MOHAMED…reminds us that the most important person who can change us for the better is ourself.

No One’s Coming to Save Me

I was six years old when my family left Mali. I didn’t understand why at first. I just remember the long flight, the boxes we couldn’t bring, and my mother whispering that America would give me a better life. But “better” didn’t come easy.We didn’t have much money. 

My parents worked long hours, and I learned early how to make things last, one pair of shoes for everything, from school to the playground to Eid prayer. Kids at school noticed. They laughed at my accent, my clothes, and even my name. I’d smile like it didn’t bother me, but when I got home, I’d sit in silence, replaying every insult in my head. Middle school was the worst. Everyone wanted to fit in, and I stuck out. I didn’t talk much. I kept to myself. Sometimes I’d pretend to be sick just to avoid the noise, the jokes, the whispers. I didn’t know it then, but all that pain was teaching me how to stay calm in the middle of chaos. Back then, basketball was just something I watched on YouTube. I’d see players like Kevin Durant glide across the court, and I’d imagine what it felt like to move like that. But I never really played. I told myself I didn’t have the time, or the money, or the right connections. Truth was, I didn’t believe I could be great.

That started to change the summer before ninth grade. One day, a few guys at the park asked if I wanted to run a few games. I hesitated. I didn’t even have real basketball shoes  but I joined anyway. I missed layups, fumbled passes, and air-balled more shots than I want to admit. But for the first time, I felt something new: drive. I wanted to get better.

At first, no one believed me. When I told people I wanted to play Division 1 basketball one day, they laughed. Some said, “Bro, you don’t even have a school team.” And they were right, the school I go to now is small, no team, no scouts, no gym full of screaming fans. Just me, a ball, and a dream. Money was still tight, so I couldn’t afford trainers or camps. But I had YouTube and pavement, and that was enough. I started waking up early to dribble outside while the neighborhood was still asleep. My palms froze in the winter, but I didn’t stop. I’d go to the park after school, shooting until the sky turned orange and the lights went out. At first, people called me crazy. “You’re wasting your time,” they said. “You’ll never make it.” Those words used to hurt, but over time they became fuel. Every time someone doubted me, I heard a voice in my head say, prove them wrong.

Still, the pressure was heavy. Balancing school, religion, and training wasn’t easy. There were nights I’d stare at my homework, too tired to focus, and wonder if I was doing the right thing. Some days I questioned why I even tried so hard when no one seemed to notice. But one night, while scrolling through old videos, I saw a quote that hit me harder than any insult ever could: “No one’s coming to save you.” I froze. Because deep down, I knew it was true. No one was going to hand me success. No one was going to fight for me. If I wanted to change my life, I had to move. That night, I made a promise to myself and to Allah. I would pray five times a day, stay disciplined in school, and give everything I had to basketball no matter who was watching.And slowly, things started to change. My grades went up. My body got stronger. My mindset shifted. I wasn’t just trying to prove people wrong anymore — I was trying to prove myself right.

Now I’m sixteen. I still go to that same small school, still with no team, still getting comments like, “Bro, you’re wasting your talent there.” But I don’t let it get to me. I know what I’m building. Every day, I work on my shot, my handle, my body, and my faith. I’ve learned that hard work doesn’t always get applause, sometimes it’s just silent progress. 

The truth is, life has been cruel to me at times. But that cruelty shaped me. It forced me to grow up faster, to depend on myself, and to rely on Allah when nothing else made sense. I don’t see my past as pain anymore, I see it as preparation. (quote from Mr. Tom: Luck is when preparation meets opportunity) I’m not a star yet. I don’t have any offers. But I’ve already won something bigger: purpose. I wake up knowing exactly who I’m becoming. I used to wait for someone to save me. Now, I’m saving myself  through prayer, discipline, and work. Every shot I take, every assignment I finish, every prayer I make, it’s all proof that change is possible. Real change. Change for good. Because no one’s coming to save me. And that’s exactly why I will.

Mohamed Cisse

11/9/25

CHANGED FOR GOOD…The students were asked to reflect on a relationship that has affected their life for the better.

RUTH…pens a tribute to her mother’s story of resilience and love.

Change for Good

        My mother, Carla Lizette Monge Rivas, was born May 20, 1975, in Suchitoto, El Salvador. She was actually born on May 18th, but the doctors had messed up her birth certificate. She’s the middle child of a 4-child household. Both my grandparents were always busy working hard for her and her siblings. So, from a very young age, she learned to be independent and take care of herself. When she was in the middle of college at age 25, she chose to leave school to come work here in the U.S. Like almost every, if not all, immigrants, my mom came here in search of a better life and a way to help my grandparents. 

        She would very soon meet my brother’s dad, get pregnant, and start her business. When Jonathan was only 27 days old, he was sent to El Salvador to my grandparents because my mom couldn’t take care of him due to her business and not being financially stable. She met my dad during that time, but they didn’t actually start dating until 3 years after meeting. She then got pregnant with Karla, and a year later, she got pregnant with me, her favorite child.

        The thing about my mom is that she’s too kind. She goes out of her way to help those around her, whether they’re in need or not, which causes her to be stepped on a lot. Karla and I grew up going to work with my mom. As she drove around, we would be in the back seat, or we would go knocking on doors, asking people if they wanted to buy her delicious and one-of-a-kind tamales or atole. Karla and I would split up: one of us takes the right, and the other takes the left side of the street. Sometimes we would compete on who gets the most people to sell the food. 

        We grew up fairly poor. The only thing you would ever see in the fridge would be the materials my mom used for her food. There would be rice and fruit here and there, but it would never be an actual meal. Obviously, we had condiments like ketchup and mustard. The one condiment that carried our meals was definitely mayo. Guys, this may not sound delicious, but my mom would always make us these mayo sandwiches (two pieces of bread and a whole bunch of mayo). To me, they were one of the best sandwiches. There would be some rare occasions where my mom would buy ham to make ACTUAL sandwiches. In those days, we would really eat well. This isn’t the only thing we would eat. While she was prepping the food, I would always get a little bowl, and she would serve me masa for tamales con pollo. Other meals included refried beans, eggs, and some really salty cheese. 

        A lot of the money that my mom made would go to bills, building up the houses, or paying off loans. This meant that all the cars my mom had weren’t in the best condition. I can give you a whole list of cars that my mom has owned, but there was this one that, even though it was horrible, it’s still in my heart to this day. It was a Hyundai (I don’t know the model). It had no AC, and a window was missing. To get in the back, you’d have to fold and move the front seats, and to roll down the windows, you would have to spin the handle. So summers would be really sweaty and hot, while winters were cold and harsh. This actually helped Karla and me be able to think outside the box. In the winter, we would always figure out ways to put things in the window to keep the cold air out. We would also huddle together in the back to stay warm while my mom worked.

        These may sound like some bad times, but if I’m being honest, these are my childhood treasures. My mom always tried her best to keep us happy and to be able to grow up with normal lives. There are no words to describe her. I can honestly write a whole series of books about my mom, and it still wouldn’t be enough for anyone to understand her. She’s guided me well, and even though she has her ups and downs, she’s still and will always be my mom. The precious woman who fights every day. I really love my mom. Every time I think of her, I always think back to her smile and the way she would hug me when I slept in her bed.

Ruth Rivas

November 7, 2025