Please Raise Your Hand On my first day of eleventh grade, I took out my carefully highlighted copy of Pale Blue Dot by Carl Sagan, a freshly sharpened number two pencil, and a marbled composition book. As discussion ensued in AP English Language, my fingertips rhythmically tapped along my thigh. Voices blared and jabbered, echoing off the walls of the claustrophobic space. I sat in shameful silence, frozen and uncomfortable. I thumbed through the dog-eared pages of my book and...

Just after my sixth birthday, my dad took the family camping in Desolation Wilderness where we hiked Mount Tallac, pausing on a ridgetop to make kool-aid and snow ‘slurpees’. At the top, I signed the ledger - Danielle, age six. Realizing I was the youngest signee in the book, a sense of accomplishment overcame me. Despite my shortness of breath due to the high altitude, a raspberry-colored elbow, and sore shoulders from my pack, I felt dignified. When I was...

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