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By: Anna Li On March 13th, there is a very important yet overlooked holiday… It’s… Good Samaritan Day!  In honour of this event, here’s a list of 10 nice things that you can do to be a better person:   (because it’s really not that hard to be a good person)  Has anyone ever said anything to you that has stuck with you even after years? Well, if you say just one nice thing to a person, you could be that voice. Remember, a couple words can go a long way.  Life is already tiring enough, so be kind to someone behind you.  What’s the point of money if you don’t spend it on what really matters?  Smiles are contagious.  It takes a village to raise a child. So, it is a given that somewhere this year, there has been someone who has helped you take a big leap. Take some time to show your appreciation for them, to make sure they know how inspiring they are to others. Congratulations! Long time no see! Want to meet up soon?  We’ve all been there, done that, and made plenty of mistakes. All of us are human, so take the time to say sorry, and own up to your actions.  She deserves it.  Whether you’re passionate about wildfires, climate change, fighting discrimination, or saving puppies, there’s bound to be an organization dedicated to your cause. Choose wisely. 

By: Sophie Chen Sophie Chen had always believed that code was the closest thing to magic in the modern world. Lines of logic, woven together, could create entire realities. But nothing she had encountered in her years as a programmer prepared her for what she found in the dusty archives of her university’s research library.   It started with a curiosity—an old notebook wedged between outdated textbooks on statistical theory. The cover bore the initials “E.H.” in faded ink. Inside, pages filled with intricate equations, notations, and an unfamiliar algorithm caught Sophie’s attention. Intrigued, she took it home, entering the cryptic symbols line by line into her computer, expecting little more than an obscure academic puzzle.   What emerged was something far greater. The algorithm, when fed with historical data, began to output patterns—eerily precise predictions of economic crashes, political uprisings, and even natural disasters. Events that had already occurred were outlined with astonishing accuracy. When Sophie inputted current data, the predictions became unsettlingly detailed. An economic recession in six months, a global conflict within a year. She double-checked her work, but the results remained consistent.   As she dug deeper, she discovered the identity of “E.H.”—Eleanor Hughes, a forgotten mathematician from the 1950s. Hughes had been a prodigy, recruited by government agencies during the Cold War to develop predictive models for geopolitical strategy. Yet, after a few years, she vanished from public records entirely, and her work was buried under classified files. Sophie could only guess why—perhaps Hughes had realized the power of her creation and sought to erase it from history.   The weight of that realization pressed heavily on Sophie’s chest. She knew what this algorithm meant. Governments could manipulate economies, corporations could exploit markets, and entire populations could be controlled with chilling precision. It wasn’t just a predictive model; it was a tool that could reshape the world—if placed in the wrong hands.   The first email arrived three days later. “We’re interested in your recent work,” it read, signed by a tech conglomerate Sophie had never contacted. The next day, a government agency knocked on her door with veiled questions about her research interests. Someone had noticed. Someone who knew exactly what she had found.   Sophie faced a choice. She could release the algorithm to the world, believing in transparency, but risk chaos and exploitation. Or she could bury it once more, protect humanity from itself, but forever wonder if she had denied the world a chance to prevent disaster.   Late into the night, she sat before her screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. A single keystroke could encrypt the algorithm beyond retrieval, or it could upload it to the open web. Her pulse quickened. Hughes had hidden it, and Sophie now understood why. Some knowledge was too dangerous to exist unchecked.   Taking a deep breath, Sophie hit delete, watching the code vanish into nothingness. Then she burned the notebook. Some secrets, she decided, were never meant to be rediscovered.   But deep down, she knew. Someone, somewhere, would find it again.

By: Renne Zhao For this month’s topic of “Transitions,” I decided to focus my article on the transition from fleeting youth to (what seems like) perpetual maturity and adulthood.   I find myself grasping onto my own youth and childhood more than ever before as I enter my senior year—a year of many lasts: my last day of school, my last opening ceremony, and my last year with classmates who have become family to me. These feelings are difficult for me to reconcile with, as I feel the end of this golden chapter in my life closing in on me like a bomb ticking down, counting the days until I graduate.   To alleviate these complicated feelings, I decided to interview one of my teachers. Here is a paraphrased version of that interview, and I hope that this article helps others who are sharing this similar experience with me to adopt a new perspective on the transition between childhood and adulthood.  As someone who has witnessed many students making this transition, what do you think are the most overlooked challenges of moving from adolescence to adulthood, and how can students best prepare themselves emotionally and mentally for those challenges?  The most overlooked challenge, I would say, is managing expectations. Many seniors anticipate university and adulthood to feel like an entirely new world, which is true… but only in some ways. However, in many aspects, life—composed of challenges and routines—remains more familiar than expected. For example, soon after you step into the doors of university, you will find yourself trying to achieve a comfortable work-life balance—much like what you do in high school; the only difference is that the professors are more like distant mentors than babysitters. Think back to when you transitioned from elementary school to high school; I am sure you expected high school to be an entirely new environment like in the movies, but in reality, it was not as scary or unapproachable as you thought. Students nowadays are so capable of adapting to new technologies and environments that, with time, you will make the transition from adolescence to adulthood naturally. The best way to prepare yourself is to stay grounded, trust in your abilities, and anchor yourself in what truly matters to you. Although senior year is a year of many “lasts,” it is also a year of many “firsts.” So many fresh and valuable experiences that are unique to senior year will come into your sight: the first time writing college and university applications, the first real reflection on life beyond high school, and the first memories of core milestones like graduations, proms, and senior-exclusive events. There are so many exciting experiences awaiting senior year, and if you were able to survive the past 4 years of high school, then this last one should not be daunting either. I find that senior classes become incredibly close-knit with each other in this final year. Therefore, my advice is to make all the memories you can before saying goodbye, because these are people, some of them you might not want to admit, who have seen you grow, struggle, and come out on top. They have been by your side through challenges, shared in your successes, and created a sense of community that is hard to find elsewhere. Cherish these moments, because while you may go in different directions, the bond you have built will always be a part of your story.  To all the seniors in the Class of 2025, I wish you all the best and an amazing final year!

By: Jisara As a senior high school student aiming to pursue engineering at a top Canadian university, I have pushed myself to take challenging courses to become a strong candidate. However, as I have looked around my classroom, I have found that I am surrounded by individuals who have not only won several national-level competitions but also achieved near-perfect grades. Nowadays, an A may not be enough to guarantee admission into dream schools; applicants are also judged based on other additional factors As a result, those who wish to pursue a career in STEM are forced into a cutthroat environment, resulting in increased levels of stress and depression among students. Since the pandemic, there has been a notable rise in mental health concerns among students, especially in STEM fields. A survey conducted at the University of Toronto, one of Canada’s leading universities, has revealed that among participants, 46.2% reported a chronic struggle with their mental health as compared to 9.8% of the general population. In addition, over 50% of students in STEM fields indicated feeling major symptoms of anxiety or depression in any given two-week period. Due to the stressful environment students have to face at UofT, in 2023, ten students committed suicide on campus, despite the university’s reports of decreasing rates over the previous years. As a fellow student in STEM, it is truly heartbreaking to hear such young adults commit such tragedies. Many of them have overworked themselves and have become burned out. Even so, these reports have yet to include those who may have done the unthinkable outside school grounds or those whose incidents have not been reported. As such, it is evident that universities, not just UofT, are not paying enough attention to students’ mental health, and stressed-out students have been forced to compete against each other to land a job at graduation. In order to effectively tackle these mental health challenges, both students and universities need to adopt proactive strategies. Students should be encouraged to practice self-care and develop healthy coping mechanisms for their stress. Meanwhile, students should also aim for a balanced schedule, ensuring that they are allocated time to take a break while they study. Additionally, universities should also provide mental health services and programs to help promote and increase access for students on campus, as well as establish peer support systems where students are free to share their experiences with each other. Furthermore, classes could regularly conduct surveys to understand students’ mental health challenges to resolve each student’s concerns and improve their well-being.  As a senior entering the STEM field, there have been challenges and times when I have wanted to quit, but I have persevered by reminding myself of my strengths and the reasons for why I have chosen this path. Overworking students is not the formula to their success, instead, it is critical for them to build the mental fortitude to keep them going. At the end of the day, pursuing a career in STEM requires not only a strong set of skills but also change and reformation from our academic institutions. 

Homelessness in Vancouver is a huge issue that has yet been solved. Ever since 2024, over 2000 people have been recognized as homeless. Homelessness was not an issue for Vancouver until the 1980s. Prior to 1980, the increase in property value due to an economic shift affected many citizens negatively. The decline of industries also increased the unemployment among the working class. After the 1980s, homelessness has been more visible in Vancouver than ever since. Due to the shift from resource-based to service-oriented industries, many were left unemployed, increasing the risk of homelessness. During this time, housing prices sky-rocketed due to an increase in population and demand, leading to higher rates of homelessness. Leading up to the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, there was increased public discourse about homelessness. It has cleaned up the Downtown Eastside, and efforts of cleanup of other areas beside it were made, huge initiatives that aim to add, beside the most vulnerable population’s available housing and resources, even if not the most effective or sustainable debate. By: Morgan Xiao

There is, in one word, a kind of magical with snow days. The world seemed to slow with an overpowering hush of the colour white—a kind of serenity from life moving too fast. Snow days for many people are reminiscent of childhood—unplanned freedom and playful activities in the snow, complemented by the warmth of hot cocoa shared with loved ones. It’s a brief reprieve to innocent times and simple joys—an interruption of routine that draws whole communities into shared awe and glee. Yet, the charm of snow days extends beyond nostalgia. And, as they represent some of the more rare experiences within a collective way of living our increasingly individualised lives, they speak to the forcefulness of nature against human schedules and priorities. “Snow days push us back in a world that efficiency and productivity take over, and force one to reflect, balancing human connections in light of deadlines. But not everyone looks at snow days with the same warm feeling. For some, snow days bring all kinds of disruptions and challenges, especially with trying to keep work routines going and juggle care of children. The divisions of opinion around snow days are reflected in much larger societal debates on work-life balance, community support, and our relationship with the natural environment.” By: Morgan Xiao

-by Isita Ghanta “Chinese people are all moving here. We need to stop letting every helpless tramp in.” The woman whispered to her husband, glaring at Sakura. Sakura Yamamoto wanted to close her laptop and use it to bang the woman’s head but instead quickly vacated her seat in the café and walked home. She lived in a hostel that held parachute students like herself, students who were sent to live abroad in high school so they could skip the college entrance exams. Sakura had moved a year prior expecting school to be similar to the high school movies she had seen but had been quickly disappointed. Her first day had gone as following. She had walked into class and encountered a teacher who refused to believe she could speak English. During history, everyone stared at her as another student droned about her presentation about WW2. In the end, her fellow Japanese hostel mates and a few nice locals had welcomed her with open arms, making the gloom of school more bearable. “Sakura, your mom sent a package for you. Airi took it up.” Sakura thanked the front desk man and ran up. Her room mate, Airi, sat in a mess of papers, all but crying over them. She pointed at the box at box beside her bed and went back to being deplorable over her schoolwork. Before moving to Canada, Sakura’s days were painted with the strokes of tradition, her path seemingly predetermined by the expectations of her family and society. But beneath the facade of conformity, a yearning for self-discovery pulsed within her. Upon hearing of the opportunity to leave the dull life she was living behind, Sakura begged her parents to allow her to attend the international student program. She waved goodbye to her friends, fencing lessons, tayoki trips and family. “Chemistry or literature?” Sakura asked stabbing the tape of the package with scissors. “Literature. Why should I care about deciphering what Ophelia feels in this bit? I mean, it is a made-up story, to force me into this horridity-” Sakura continues opening her package, letting Airi ramble on. “This is weird. My mom sent a bunch of papers in the mail.” Sakura shows it to Airi. She sits on the edge of her bed slowly opening the paper. Her stomach falls after reading the content. She stares at the paper. Airi moves to sit beside her, silently reading over her shoulder. “I have taken it upon myself to clean scum like you who bring the virus to us. Mark your last days, Sakura Yamamoto.” Airi frantically checked the other papers, only to discover they all say the same thing. Sakura sat frozen, rereading the content over and over again. “We need to report this.” Things happened as a blur for the next week for Sakura. Other Parachute students had heard of what happened. The story spread from them to the school. It spread from the school to the community. Her once dreadful school day became reassurances from kids she never met and people including her into the western world. Two months later, Sakura received the same package. It read the same thing. But this time, she didn’t mentally breakdown. She complained to the hostel and remined herself that she wasn’t as alone in this country as she thought. Perhaps when this anonymous killer did come, nobody would rescue her. They might cry for a few days and forget her. But to her the transition from utter silence to “it’s going to be ok” meant something. She wondered if she was going mad. “Sakura! Someone wants to talk to you.” Airi took her to the hallways where a Puerto Rican lady sat with her legs crossed. “We will be right down the hallway. Shout out if you need help or anything, ok?” Airi gave her a meaningful look before going away. The woman and Sakura sat in silence for a while. Then the woman spoke. “My daughter told me about your situation. I am extremely sorry you have to go through this.” Sakura stared as the woman continued. “While I may not have ever received hate mail, I have seen enough things in our community to know its not as inclusive as one would hope. I am a journalist. And I would like to hear about your story.” And that was the first time I ever heard Sakura speak. She has grown since then, helping fellow international students, and is preparing to go to the university of Toronto as a Psychology major in the fall. The man who threatened her was caught in the a few months back for attempting murder of another international student. Stories like this are overlooked. Students like Sakura are told to suck it up and deal with it as long as they don’t get hurt. “How do you feel?” I asked her approximately a year after the first package. Sakura looked different now. The slouch in her back that she used to hide her height in was gone. Her hair shone in a loud red. Her face remained its usual smiley self. “I am good. I wanted to show you these.” She flipped the camera to show me blooming cherry blossom trees. “It’s the season of the bloom for the Sakura. Thought you would want to see it.” I smiled at Sakura, for she, just like the trees she was named after, faced all hardships and bloomed to show her true beauty.

By Iris Dionysiou 778 different drivers have raced in Formula 1 since the start of the sport in 1950, out of those 778, only one is black. His name is Lewis Hamilton, and he is the greatest F1 driver the sport has ever seen. With 7 world driver championships, 105 wins, 202 podiums, and a knighthood granted by the Prince of Wales for his contribution to motorsports, Sir Lewis Hamilton is the most successful F1 driver of all time, but his legacy extends far beyond the sport. Hamilton’s tireless battles for equality set him apart in a sport dominated by predominantly white men from privileged backgrounds. Formula 1 is historically a sport for the elites, and for Hamilton to even have a chance in the sport, on top of his generational talent and firm determination, he also needed the sacrifice of his father, who had to work 3 jobs to support his junior career. Financial difficulties, however, were nothing compared to the systemic racism and societal challenges he endured throughout. As one of many examples of the discrimination he faced, Nelson Piquet, a former F1 champion himself, has on multiple occasions used racist and homophobic language to refer to Hamilton, with the current F1 champion downplaying and dismissing these remarks, further showing the sport’s general disregard for the systemic issues Lewis Hamilton has been fighting against all these years. Racism in Formula 1 isn’t always so blatant; Hamilton’s on-track achievements are often undermined by the media in ways that less successful white drivers never have to face. One might argue that dominant athletes always face hate simply for being too good, however, Hamilton’s case is much more nuanced and to hide that behind such a pretense is an unfair and dismissive way to mask bigoted mindsets as fair criticisms or personal opinions. This type of subtle racism is what perpetuates such issues and should not be overlooked. Since joining F1 in 2007, his advocacy for diversity and inclusion in the sport has been nothing short of groundbreaking. In 2020 he launched the Hamilton Commission, a research initiative aimed at increasing diversity in motorsport. From taking the knee before races and wearing a “Black Lives Matter” shirt on the podium to decorating his racing helmet with pro-LGBT+ sentiments, Hamilton’s actions, often breaking the controversial “no-politics” guideline set by the governing body of the sport, have sparked crucial conversations in the world of motorsports. His struggle for equality goes far beyond F1, his first-hand experience of an education system that worked against him has led to the creation of Mission 44, a charity focused on inclusive education, employment opportunities, and youth empowerment, through which he has funded scholarships for underrepresented students and collaborated with organizations to create programs that address systemic inequality. The path Lewis Hamilton has led in the world of motorsports will be evident long after he retires. His relentless efforts for change have pushed governing bodies of the sport to implement inclusion policies, ensuring that future generations of drivers and engineers have an equal chance to succeed in a sport that has been sidelining them since its beginning. There is still a long way to go and thanks to Lewis Hamilton the path has now been paved. His story shows that greatness isn’t just about breaking records but breaking barriers. The legacy he leaves behind isn’t just one of unrelenting talent, but also of rewriting the narrative of what is possible in F1. As we celebrate Black History Month, Lewis Hamilton’s unwavering resilience, on and off track, stands as a reminder that true champions don’t just charge to win races–they charge to change the world.

By: Anonymous Young Verron paced around the room, his footsteps quickening as he brushed his brow, still damp with sweat despite a mild and fair morning sun. He wore finer clothing than he had anticipated, since Davila always had her ways of bending his will. At first, he refused to meet with her entirely. Then he made a compromise, insisting that it take place far from the City of Faria. Now, he found himself in a parlour by one of the city’s most coveted boulangeries, and the scent of freshly baked bread flooded the street. If he was not blessed with fortune, he would be subject to answering the questions of his milieu, who may find him. The parlour itself was wrapped in red tones, with brocade tapestries and dark wood panels. The dim crimson glow of a hearth, its sluggish licks of fire warming him. His silhouette stood still against the flames, exuding impatience and an eagerness to get over this endeavour.  Verron had an ambition that gnawed. It was the kind that ripened in the shade of neglect. Unlike others whose accomplishments enchanted and impressed, he remained unnoticed, as his ability needed careful attention to realize its full potential. He was intelligent, poised, and determined. But alas, who cared for one whose name was so far down the line of inheritance? Whose claim was challenged by children? He was only nineteen, a fifth son, a little more than a formality in his family hierarchy. While his brothers and nephews flourished with silks and cashmere, he made do with cotton and wool. Arrogance, born of his obscurity, tore away at him, and his veneer of confidence began to be done away with, replaced by a plaque of sheer vanity.  A half-hour passed, and the nutty pastries across the street stirred his hunger. He had not eaten since the night before, and time felt slower as each minute sharpened his craving. His focus drifted until he was jolted awake by the sound of the door opening.

By: Khaliya Rajan Inspired by Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown Anxiety Anxiety creeps through the body making its way up to the brain, ready to take control. Thoughts begin to roll as heavy as bowling balls, knocking over pins in its path that always return. Weights fall upon us as we ponder every option for the future, weighing us down, we wonder if we’re on the right path. Anxiety never leaves. Anguish Anguish floods the brain, telling us to shut our eyes and hearts and by obeying we hope it will numb our agony. It seeps through our veins making our hearts beat  faster than a cheetah’s run, louder than a gong, swifter than a punch to the stomach. Anguish leaves us breathless and powerless.  Contempt Contempt is what we feel when arrogance blinds us, making us  forget we are equal. Contempt boils and bubbles within the body slowly growing for those who have hurt us. It lingers within us, before gradually slipping through our fingers. Like a bell it dismisses us, deeming us as unworthy as  shattered glass. The goodbye is quick-if it even happens at all. Contempt engulfs and swallows us whole. Jealousy Jealousy comes swiftly, ready to destroy a relationship before disappearing, leaving us to  fix the mistake alone. Jealousy is the green-eyed monster staring us down until we conform to its innate, savage desires. Jealousy feeds on our emptiness. Regret Regret makes us squirm, and wish we could leave our own bodies. We hope it will fade as quickly as a drop of water spilling onto the floor. Instead regret burns and itches at the skin, relentless to how long and hard we scratch it. The actions we took seem wrong and the actions we forewent seem right. Regret forces us to overthink. Guilt Guilt causes us to blame someone else, someone innocent, someone near, projecting our sorrow and regret onto them so we can grieve lightly and leave the weight of responsibility within the depths of our hearts. Begin again; lose someone; begin again. The guilt shall die with us never to be spoken, never to be known, never to be understood. They are silver not gold, showered in shame, carrying an unexplainable weight, stuck beneath clouds because we couldn’t cope and expiate. Guilt, because we know we have done erred. Loneliness Loneliness is often suffered by those who shine the brightest, ignored by those whose light shines dim craving yours. You fade away within the background, observing but unable to participate. You miss life. You miss people. The connections you once had, worth more than a ton of gold, have begun to fade and wither. Loneliness, you long for someone-anyone to-understand you. Confusion Confusion fills the empty space within us meant for understanding. It swirls within our heads, bringing us the need for clarification. Confusion- the universal experience.  Nostalgia Nostalgia-an old photograph, a childhood song, the worn teddy bear stuffed into the back of the closet. The memory of a happier time, when smiles were engraved upon our faces and we shined as bright as the sun. Nostalgia, the feeling of remembering. Sympathy Sympathy is the feeling of our stomachs dropping for someone else. Though you may have never been in their position, your insides crumble to mush anyway. It’s a feeling intertwined with pity and gratefulness to have not been in their situation. Sympathy makes us human. Trust Trust leaves our hearts vulnerable to pain. It is the key to a successful relationship, but can be splintered in a second, broken in an hour, gone in a day. Like the reparations after a war, rebuilding trust takes longer than a clock’s full cycle. Built from small acts of vulnerability where we are shown love.Our hearts are open and wanting, but when closed lock everyone out. Trust is a risk. Joy Joy is the genuine smile that spreads across your face-not the posed and practiced smile worn for others. Hidden within the depths of our hearts, seemingly disappearing as we suffer through dark moments, but shining when we need it most. Joy is what makes us who we are. Humility Humility, needs to be nurtured and tended to in order to thrive within us. Its the knowing that we are one fish within a vast ocean, a star in the sky, a second in a decade. Humility brings us the desire to learn and understand our abilities. Humility is our anchor to the ground.