Student’s Writings

Better Change for the Good by Tallulah Cord

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

MINGO…relates how a young man named Bird has changed her for good.

Better Change for the Good

There are a lot of people that I can write about; within friends, family, and teachers, there are more than a few people that have changed me for the better. 

In my family, my dad, mom, and younger brother have had quite the impact on me. I will dedicate this section to my younger brother. As much as I want this to be a heartful piece I can’t guarantee it. My brother’s name is Bird. That’s a story in itself. You might be asking me; why is your brother named Bird? Although he will never admit it, I’m pretty sure when I got my nickname ‘Mingo’ he looked up to me, and wanted a nickname as well. He was into birds at the time (we all were!), hence the name: Bird. 

Bird and I differ more often than not. We don’t have a lot in common, but the things we do have in common are: reading, talking, watching movies/series (yep! That’s about it). My brother was born in 2013 which means that he is Gen Alpha. The 67 jokes in my household stem mainly from him (and my dad surprisingly). So the question remains: How do you interact with a member of Gen Alpha? Sometimes, I will just be minding my business, doing my homework, cleaning my room and then I hear it. Bird will come into our shared room and start talking about something along the lines of Tralalero Tralala, Bombombini Gusini, and Tung Tung Tung Sahur or some internet reference. It’s a hard life to live. I usually just reply with some equally brainroted word. That works for the time. Okay but all jokes aside, they are a tolerable person, and occasionally fun to be around. When that time comes we talk about books. I take great pride in the fact that I got him into reading. That right, I turned an Ipad, brainroted, Skibidi loving, sigma into an occasional book read. Yeah, I did that. All me. The book series that I urged him to pick up was a mystery and thriller type of genre. After the first chapter of that book, they were hooked. I didn’t even have to ask him to read the next book in the series. He yearned for it. The discussion that followed after reading all three books was no short of amazing. The thing is, he only read in school when there was nothing else to do. Anytime we would take a road trip I would beg him, “Please read your book. Just a couple more chapters.” and he would reply by saying the phone is more important. I would watch as the child’s face was bathed in ghoulish blue light from a small rectangle. 

How has Bird changed me for the good? I would, without joking, say I have more patience and tolerance for people, because having to put up with that all day has strengthened me. Another thing would be trust. I think that out of everyone in the whole world, I trust him the most. I’m quite certain we know everything about each other, I tell him everything.  He is a good person. I like talking about TV series and books with him as well as the occasional 67 joke.

After having written this I feel like I have mostly slandered his name, so take this as a disclaimer. I love my brother. He is a cool, talented, and funny person. I like talking with him about anything and everything, we switch topics in conversation without warning, nobody knows what will be said next. In conclusion, I love my brother.

Mingo Cord

11/07/2025

Playhouse 25 by Ruth Rivas

PLAYHOUSE 25…On their way to see a movie, the students hear a gunshot and see a figure running up the alley behind the theatre. They foolishly follow the action.

RUTH…turns the tide on a gunman intent on robbing her of a paper clip, two rusty pennies and some gum.

Playhouse 25

There I stood, standing face to gun. I was actually going to die. I was going to die as a broke and single college student. That was the worst of it all. I couldn’t see whose face was holding the gun until all the lights flashed on. It was actually a stranger. I thought this would be some dramatic reunion with someone who hated me, but no, it wasn’t. He had long grayish-white hair and a lot of wrinkles. Once I got a stench in my nose, I could assume he was homeless or was definitely going through something. Is this really how I will die? From a stinky person pointing a gun at me.

“Give me your money,” he said.

“No,” I responded.

“I don’t think you heard me correctly. I said, Give me your money,” He repeats.

And I repeat, “no.”

“Do you not see me point a gun at you? Do you even want to live?” he asked. 

Of course, I wanted to live, but I would rather get hurt than get robbed by a homeless man holding a gun. Just imagine how that would look in the news. Young Teenage Girl gets shot by a Homeless Man during a Robbery Gone Wrong. Absolutely not, but I still don’t want to die just yet. I know I would be missed, because literally, who wouldn’t miss me?

“I’m not playing around! Give me your money or else…” He raises his raspy voice. He gets the gun closer to my forehead, and I can’t help but feel bad for the guy. He could’ve chosen anyone else, but he landed on me.

“I can’t.” – Me

“Why not?” – Old Man

I don’t respond, feeling embarrassed about what I’m going to say. Instead, I shut my mouth and shake my head. The man sees this, and he gets more agitated than he already was.

“That’s enough! Give me what you have. NOW!” He yells as he extends his free arm towards me.

“If you say so…” I say as I shrug and reach into my pockets. I pull out what I have and open my fist to reveal my belongings. A paper clip, wrapped up gum that had already been chewed, a ripped dollar, and two rusty pennies. I look up to see the man’s expression, and he looks so sad.

“I warned you that you didn’t want to rob me.” – Me

“This is just pitiful. How can you be poorer than me? I’m homeless, but I still have a five-dollar bill. You, on the other hand, have barely anything.” – Old Man

“Listen, man, I spent my remaining money on a Wendy’s Biggie Bag.” – Me

“Ew, gross, why would you choose to eat at Wendy’s?” – Old Man

“Yo, chill out. The Wendy’s Biggie Bags are actually the best $5 meals. They were the originals, not McDonald’s, AND their burgers are better. No one is better than the original!” – Me

“That’s so sad. Listen, kid, go live your life to the fullest. You’re still young and have a lot of life ahead of you. You know what, here, take this.” The old man says as he lowers his gun and reaches into his pocket. He hands me his own five-dollar bill.

“Treat yourself to something nice.” – Old Man

“Thank you. I appreciate it, even though you were threatening to take my life just now.” – Me

“Yeah, no problem, I see being homeless may be better sometimes. Anyway, go on now. I have other people to start threatening for money.” – Old Man

And so, I left. I was able to walk away with my life. Imagine that. You were getting jumped by a homeless man, but he ends up giving you money because you’re the broke one, ironic. That’s just sad.

Ruth Rivas

October 17, 2025

Playhouse 25 by Mohamed Cisse

PLAYHOUSE 25…On their way to see a movie, the students hear a gunshot and see a figure running up the alley behind the theatre. They foolishly follow the action.

MOHAMED…ducks into the rear door of the theatre and ends up being part of the show.

Playhouse 25

Surprised by the sudden flash of light, George and I froze. We looked around and saw three cars to our left, right, and behind. The engines cut simultaneously. In the sudden, heavy silence, car doors opened, the small interior lights flickering. We were met with the gun that we so wanted to chase. Cornered in this situation, our only options were to find a way to escape or stay to find out our fate. What seemed to be two men and a woman, started approaching us. Looking around, I noticed a red painted stage door- the back exit of Playhouse 25. That was our chance but in fear George ran and left me alone. I could just stay there so I ran toward the stage door. Luckily it was unlocked so I went in.

The door slammed shut, throwing me into near total darkness. The noises outside were suddenly muted, replaced by silence that seemed to soak up all sound. My breath came in split gasps as I leaned against the door, my body shaking with adrenaline. Slowly, as my eyes adjusted, a light from a distant exit sign gave me a slight outline of my surroundings. I was standing on a dusty, narrow floor. A short flight of stairs led down into the main part of the theater, while another set went up. The air was thick with the scent of old wood. A faint light flickered below—the stage lights, maybe? Cautiously, I eased my weight off the door and took a step down. The floorboard creaked loudly, and I froze. Had they heard it? I held my breath, listening intently, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. I crept down the remaining stairs, guided by the red glow. I found myself in a corridor lined with faded posters of long-forgotten productions. I could hear music now, low tunes, and the sound of voices. It wasn’t the police, or my pursuers. It was a play. I was in a live show. 

I peeked through a small, curtained window in the door that led into the auditorium. The theater was dimly lit, the stage was  in a soft, blue light. An actress in a flowing, white dress was delivering a dramatic monologue to an audience of about fifty people, all completely focused on the performance.

A wave of relief washed over me, quickly followed by a new kind of panic. Someone who’d just been in a filthy alley, about to crash a live play. I turned back toward the staircase, my mind racing for another escape route, when a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

“You’re late, Thomas,” a voice whispered in my ear. I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.

It was a small, older man dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, his eyes narrow and his expression unimpressed. The theater manager. He gestured toward a side door labeled “Stage Left.”

“The cue was five minutes ago,” he hissed, pushing me toward the door. “Get on stage, the show must go on.”

I didn’t have time to correct his mistakes. The hand on my shoulder was surprisingly strong, and I was moved forward. The door swung open, and I stumbled onto the stage, the sudden brightness of the spotlights blinding me.

The actress stopped mid-sentence, her eyes wide with shock. The audience gasped. A hundred eyes fixed on me.

I froze, the center of attention in a play I didn’t even know I was in. The music stoped. I looked at the actress, then at the audience, my mind racing. The men outside were still out there, but here, I was safe… at least for now. I had to improvise.

Mohamed Cisse

10/17/25

Playhouse 25 by Mingo Cord

PLAYHOUSE 25…On their way to see a movie, the students hear a gunshot and see a figure running up the alley behind the theatre. They foolishly follow the action.

MINGO…spins a tale of intrigue and danger, only to find herself on an episode of “What Would You Do?”

Playhouse 25

The gunman stands 15 meters in front of the streetlight; his figure is outlined by the luminous glow.  My friend and I stare into the barrel of a gun. I am hesitant to take my eye off the killer, but I need to see my friend’s face. Without turning my head, my right eye gazes at Rylee. I wonder what she is thinking right now. Heck I wonder what I’m thinking. Should we flee? Will he shoot? Do we stay and hope he leaves? A shadow casts over his face, the light that originates from the lamppost illuminates his body and reflects off his shirt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a purer white than his shirt. As my eyes adjust to the situation, I am able to see the blood on his side. Not his blood, the pattern looks to be mist. That indicates that the shooter was in close range with the victim when he was struck. The victim’s blood showered the gunman with very small droplets of red. 

Rylee, just like me, is remaining calm. We have always been diffusers of conflict, undisturbed in the face of dispute. I think back to the times when we solved our friends’ quarrels. And then I think of how stupid it was for us to pursue the man. The circumstances of gunshots and a man running seemed like an adventure, we couldn’t ignore. We should have been in the theater by now, dual wielding sodas and striped popcorn buckets. But now, it looks like this is the end. What will they say on our gravestone? Gone too soon? I didn’t think fourteen was all I’d ever see. I wanted to be more, to do more. I want to see my younger sibling grow up. I don’t want to be fourteen forever. 

My thoughts give me a reason to speak. I begin to plead with the man. I tell him we won’t say a thing. Nobody needs to know. Although I am unable to see his face, the arm that holds his gun slumps ever so slightly. What I said could be getting through to him. 

“We don’t want trouble!” Rylee utters.

“Please let us leave! We are only fourteen, you are more likely to escape if you leave us! Think of the headlines, ‘Manhunt for shooter of two teenage girls’.” (I pray he has morals.)

Slowly cars from both sides of the alley close in. The headlights blind us. This is the end, I think to myself. The gunman has probably summoned for backup. And they will leave no witnesses. I turn my head to Rlyee. Tears hang in her eyes, as do mine. I shut my eyes hard, I don’t want to see death.

Why am I not dead? It should have happened by now. It’s been, what? One minute? Two? I squint my left eye open, and then my right. When I sense the danger is gone, I open them fully.

There are huge cameras in our faces.

“My name is John Quiñones and this is ‘What Would You Do?’

Mingo Cord

10/22/2025

You Fail by Jason Barnett

FAILURE-SUCCESS…The students were challenged to consider the interaction of these two fundamental realities of life.

JASON…makes the case for resilience and determination, with a bit of help from hip-hop’s Kendrick Lamar and history’s Kunta Kinte.

You Fail

What is success without failure? It’s like saying you can’t feel pleasure without pain. Most of your improvement is done through failure. When you fail, you might think you’ll never succeed. But If you give up then, you won’t ever succeed… not because you’re not trying but because you gave up. The worst thing you can do is give up. 

How does success feel? How much failure have you endured to come to success? Hold on to those feelings next time you feel like giving up and use your resources to help you. It doesn’t have to be a person but you should have someone to confide in. Don’t blame your failures on others or put your procrastination on something else. 

Six hundred thousand people commit suicide every year, that is what giving up is. In some ways, committing suicide might seem better than doing nothing and having no purpose in life. That’s not a life at all. That is not a life worth living. There are probably billions of failure * success stories out there, get inspired and try to do something with your life. Turn your meaninglessness to meaningfulness. You might not know what to do and you don’t have to, just do something, move forward, never give up. Do something until you find your meaning.

Find some time, find some time to do something. Shoot for the stars because, even if you don’t succeed, you reach higher. What matters is that you tried, you didn’t give up and you succeeded in doing something.

Whether you want to be an NBA star, a famous musician, or a well known scientist, nothing is out of reach… for what is the meaning of it if you don’t go for it? Standards are so low nowadays, it used to be that your family supported you and thought you would be someone great no matter what you did. Now it’s just pale. Your family doesn’t support you, you don’t support yourself, and you just live a slow bleak life because you don’t think you’ll reach anything you shoot for, but that’s because you gave up. I’ve heard so many stories about people going to the edge, not giving up, and becoming something great. For every one of those stories, there are at least a dozen stories where they do give up and that is so sad.

There is so much ugly in the world. Even so, tell me how many times you’ve seen an artist turn something ugly into something beautiful. You should do the same. Imagine you’re on a straight narrow road, the wind is at an all time high, cars are blowing past you, and you can smell the carbon emission everywhere. You have no choice but to move forward until you can’t. You’ve reached a mountain so high, you can’t even see the top. If you turn around and give up the feeling of reaching the top, give up the feeling of success and happiness, you fall into a stage of only moving backwards. No mountain is too high for you to climb. Just try. You don’t know what you will find.

“Mornin’ mornin’ mornin, I feel the evils of Luci is all around me, so I went running for answers. Take it in the perspective of Kunta Kinte, everyone wanna cut the legs off em, now he’s got the whole world talking. Kunta, a black man taking no losses.” This is one of my favorite stories of perseverance. Now confide in yourself, persevere, don’t give up, think of what you can do.

SHOUT OUT TPAB

Jason Barnett

October 3, 2025

Failure by Karla Rivas

FAILURE-SUCCESS…The students were challenged to consider the interaction of these two fundamental realities of life.

KARLA…grabs our attention with her opening line, before acknowledging mistakes she regrets but refuses to be taken down by.

Failure 

I’m one failure away from ruining my life. I mean, I’m about to start doing crack and live on the lonely, dirty streets of Baltimore. I’ll be honest, I don’t know where to start. I thought about it yesterday for a very, very long time and I still don’t really know how to articulate how I feel. I feel like I’m being held hostage by this invisible force that has deprived me from oxygen and is causing me to roll around as if I’m a roach on its back trying to get back on its feet. 

I’m kind of still trying to figure out how to say something, without saying anything at all. It’s actually the most difficult thing to do. I’ve been trying to not make my past mistakes happen again. I’m trying really hard to be able to live with them, but there is nothing more difficult than forgiving yourself for past mistakes. It’s even harder to do that if you didn’t hurt just one person, but many. 

Now I feel like I’m actively hurting the people around me. It’s a crazy, almost unreal experience to be scared of yourself and your actions. I’m trying really hard to be careful with my words telling you this. I don’t want people to read or hear this story and have pity, I just want people to understand what I’m trying to say. 

I’m trying really hard to not deprive my feelings from the daylight, but everytime I bring them up it feels like someone gets hurt by what I feel. Then it brings me to question myself and whether it’s right for me to feel something. There’s times I ask the question out loud and people give me a mixed response, telling me that I “should” feel that; others tell me it’s unjustified how I feel. But I always feel that what I’m feeling is never right and I should just not feel so much. So what should I do if I feel too much but I don’t want to feel as much? Should I just stop feeling? Do I continue to feel and hurt people? Or should I just kill myself? (Guys, it’s a joke. I’m not going to harm myself.) 

It’s hard being a failure and then trying to live with that, while also trying to succeed in the field you failed in. I’ve become one of those failures that don’t want to continue to try because they have nothing else. 

On a lighter note, I talked about it last night to someone really important to me. I feel so much better after talking to them. I don’t feel like an upside down roach anymore, just a roach on its feet. This person has made me feel not so much as a failure, telling me it’s okay for me to feel everything and anything. 

I also want to clarify that I refuse to be taken down by mistakes I make. My purpose is bigger than me and I am not losing the plot. I want my parents, mentors, and teachers to be proud of everything I do. Unfortunately, in order to be the best me, I have to make mistakes and sometimes they are big. I am not giving up or giving in to the failures, I refuse to. 

I will succeed, not just for me, but for everyone that has been and will be with me on this beautiful journey of failures and success. All in all, I regret all my mistakes and failures, but I will not let them take me down to a deep hole that kills me. I will succeed and do whatever it takes to succeed. 

 Karla Rivas

October 3, 2025