
February 2021 Archive
Editor's Note
After months of inactivity with The Gen Z Times, reading over the February edition made me realize how the Journal could compile so many different ideas in just one place. Despite any and all impasses I had with The Gen Z Times, it is still a hub of information and different experiences of different people from various different parts of the world, bringing endless benefits to everyone that reads it. Therefore, the theme for the February edition is, definitely, variety. This was probably already a theme because diversity is the overarching theme of the Journal, but it is still very representative of this edition. From addressing burnout to political polarization, different writers used different approaches to inform, express, and empower. I will be forever proud of this edition. Happy reading!
- Catarina
Editorial
Gifted Kid Burnout: Why The “Talented Youth” Is So Unmotivated
Catarina Vita
Editor-in-Chief
Being it through an unhealthy Harry Potter addiction or making countless TikToks about academic traumas, the so-called "gifted kids" have taken over social media as they procrastinate on their online schoolwork. These teens — myself included — are the same ones you saw submerging into a 500-page book or speaking passionately to your 5th-grade teacher about the times table thirty minutes before class started. Be it before or during the COVID-19 pandemic, all of these kids have one thing in common: we are exhausted. Many of us do not know that yet, though. This stage we find ourselves in is called a burnout; in this context, a period in which someone who worked very hard academically in the past is stagnant, stuck in the quicksand that is relying on academic validation. Burnouts, however, do not only happen to students that have worked hard for years; it is also in the third grader obsessed with Percy Jackson that internalized the idea that being smart was something they already were and, therefore, they do not need to work for academic and professional success. In both of these examples, burnt-out gifted kids experience a wide variety of side effects, ranging from losing interest in their old hobbies to severe depression and anxiety. The "gifted kid burnout" is not addressed enough by the internet community, let alone by schools themselves; this leads "gifted kids" to think they are alone in their burnout phase, or that they are not capable of being as academically strong as before. To adequately address the "gifted kid burnout", it is pivotal to analyze how they are caused, its consequences, and how to support a "gifted kid" with burnouts.
Although all gifted kids are in different circumstances and have distinct trajectories, their road to burnouts are strangely similar. There are many roads to take to be officially labeled a "gifted kid." For many proud parents, for their child to be reading and writing at three years old is a sign of lifelong success. However, the student that started standing out at their freshman year and getting nothing but compliments from everyone for a significant period can also fit into this label. In any way, after young students are constantly told they are smart and that their potential is infinite, their reputation is constructed. An immeasurable amount of pressure comes with this; people around these gifted students assume that they will not make academic mistakes, so they treat them differently if they do something wrong. Most importantly, this phenomenon makes the gifted kids set impossible expectations for themselves. Consequently, even if their family and friends constantly tell them that they are supporting them, the gifted youth will never support themselves. Being smart becomes gifted kids' only personality trait, and they feel useless unless they are acting smart. With infinite extracurricular and enrichment opportunities open to them, gifted kids will often overload with work, eventually leading them to burnout. Even with the most supportive peers, sometimes what these gifted kids need is not reassurance and more motivation, but much needed rest.
What schools often describe as "healthy competition" is a black hole of constant self-comparison and alienation, alongside being one of the most significant contributors to burnouts. Competition in school can be objective — from class rankings to awards — or subjective — chatter in the corridors and up-and-down looks from teachers. In any way, competitiveness in school severely affects students' mental health; especially the ones at the top of the pyramid. For gifted kids, the pressure of always getting an award at the end-of-year ceremonies or not making a silly mistake when a teacher calls them out is insurmountable. Each gifted kid has a different way of coping with the pressure, but none of us is open to sharing them because we are not allowed to be vulnerable. In reality, some of us — myself included — do not cope with the pressure. Instead, we invest our entire lives in the school system and forget there is life beyond school. This leads exactly to what was said beforehand: gifted kids make too many academic commitments, eventually leading to an overwhelming amount of stress and fatigue: burnouts.
Ranging from physical and psychological consequences, the effects of burnout can damage someone permanently. Besides an absurd amount of fatigue and lack of motivation, a prominent consequence of gifted kid burnouts is impostor syndrome. Very little known in schools, impostor syndrome is thinking you are not as smart or competent as others tell you. Besides being a consequence of burnout, it is also a consequence of the competitiveness in school. As the school system encourages and is based on students being compared to each other, gifted kids mirror this attitude and become impostors of their own selves. During their burnout, gifted kids have no motivation to do work; instead of taking a break or talking to someone, their impostor syndrome intensifies. Since their reputation often only revolves around being academically engaged, they think they are invalid: their only "useful" trait is gone.
Although the term "burnouts" has been popularized recently, Generation Z is certainly not the first generation to have experienced it. What leads burnouts to keep happening is how people treat it. When gifted kids look for support, they often receive encouraging remarks of "you are smart!" or "you can do it!" This only feeds into their impostor syndrome, because people are saying exactly what they do not believe. To adequately support a burnt-out gifted kid, it is important to tell them that being smart is not their only trait. It is important to tell them that, besides being smart, they are amazing people that deserve rest. Instead of giving them constant motivation and encouraging them to engage in their projects, ask them to rest. Tell them that their mental health is their priority. Gifted kids are often very reluctant to be vulnerable, so one can never know what they are going through. Therefore, if your school environment is intensely competitive — a large part of school environments are — stop encouraging competition at all costs. Anything can be a trigger for gifted kids with impostor syndrome: from comparing grades to asking people why they didn't get awards, anything related to academic competitiveness can affect us. The first step to stopping burnouts is to spread awareness, and everything starts with us.
Is Autonomy the Solution
Arianna Harris
Joe Biden, (President elect) has over 70 drafts of bills that he desires to pass starting in late January, after he is inaugurated. While a large portion of Generation Z sees this a good news, it is important to see both the pros and the cons of a mainly democratic board of leadership, and what this will do to our country.
Gen Z being the most diverse yet interconnected generation could pose not enough opposition for politics in the future. While we may think of this as a good thing, too much of anything isn't good for the majority.
Think of it as creamer in coffee- while some may like their coffee black, others prefer to add creamer. In theory, if the majority of people like creamer in their coffee, these individuals will be connected to others because of this similarity, leaving a small group of people excluded from this “coffee creamer group.”
If in the future the house of representatives, the supreme court, and the executive branch is all democratic, there will leave no room for opposition, creating unanimous decisions. These decisions will likely create more polarity between the two groups, like we see today with the right and left political spectrum.
While it seems ideal to have a country full of united citizens who have relatively the same political stance, opposition is what promotes change. As Generation Z, we have been exposed to drastic change. Events like the murder of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and so many others have sparked civil unrest that has led to change.
An autonomous nation will never be a great nation. It is our similarities that initially bring us together, but our differences that teach us to adapt and grow as an individual, as a generation, and as a country.
The politicization of coronavirus vaccines in Brazil
Luiza Almeida
Ms. Calazans, a 54-year-old nurse working at the Emílio Ribas hospital in São Paulo, soon became the face of hope for Brazilians: she was the first citizen to take a vaccine against the Coronavirus. To add to the sense of hope that ensued, the vaccine taken was the CoronaVac, produced in the country by the Butantan Institute in partnership with Sinovac. However, the reasons behind the massive broadcasting of this event may have less to do with the end of the Coronavirus pandemic and more to do with political aspirations.
The - presently - most famous picture in Brazil shows Ms. Calazans taking the vaccine while the governor of São Paulo, João Doria, stands beside her. He is, visibly, filling the gap Brazil's president, Jair Bolsonaro, left in handling this crisis.
Bolsonaro has, countless times, disregarded this virus, either by saying it's just a tiny flu, or by stating that he "is not a gravedigger" when asked about the thousands of dead people in Brazil or even by being openly anti vaccine, affirming that if one of its side effects is becoming a crocodile, he cannot be blamed. Indeed, one could not blame him for any side effects of the vaccine. On the other hand, he can (and has) be blamed for crimes against humanity, completely mishandling the crisis at hand and acting as an anti-leader.
João Doria, the governor of São Paulo - who already poses as one of Bolsonaro's fiercest rivals in the 2022 election -, ran a big risk by funding a vaccine that had the possibility of not working. His move was a bold one - and the right one. Nonetheless, the funding of the vaccine and the planning of the immunization of the population was not on his job curriculum, he could have done nothing and not be judged as incompetent. This was a job for the federal government - which, due to its lack of productivity regarding the pandemic, has been deemed as inept. For this reason, it can be seen as if he is filling Bolsonaro's shoes: aiding the population even when the country's own president disregards it.
However, Doria's past shall not be forgotten. At the beginning of Bolsonaro's campaign, he created a hashtag named BolsoDoria in order to pledge his support to the current president of the country, but he was savvy enough to detect when Bolsonaro started losing people's support and quickly dissociate himself from the federal government.
Hamilton Mourão, Brazil's vice-president, and Eduardo Pazuello, the Minister of Health, (who, interestingly enough, did not celebrate the beginning of vaccination in the country) have criticized Doria for turning this event into marketing. It should be noted, however, that Doria positively acted on Bolsonaro's incompetence. This action did have other intentions, to gain footing in the 2022 presidential election. Nonetheless, it was only made possible because of the inefficiency of the government and it is the action the country was in great need of. (It shall be remembered that the Health Ministry planned on buying 46 million doses of the CoronaVac, an idea that was shut down as soon as Bolsonaro found out. Such reckless act was taken due to xenophobia against the Chinese - the vaccine, after all, was produced by the Butantan Institute and by SinoVac, a Chinese company - and due to his rivalry with Doria.)
This situation led João Doria to gain a lot of the population's support and decreased Bolsonaro's approval rate, leaving him concerned. In fact, due to this, the vaccine, which, according to his own words, was "Doria's and China's vaccine", soon became "Brazil's vaccine, unassociated with any political party or prominent figure". The president who once celebrated the delay of the vaccine tests by stating that he had "beaten" Doria, now calls it "Brazil's vaccine". Very convenient.
In this way, it is clear that the Coronavirus crisis in Brazil became a political race rather than an urgent humanitarian crisis. Unfortunately, this is noticeable in statistics, with the country occupying third place in number of cases and second in number of deaths. Sure, politicians all over the globe politicized this pandemic, but none as masterfully as those in Brazil.
In his denialism, Bolsonaro built his own noose - Ms. Calazans only made it tighter.
Sources Cited
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wnWH0-UqWQ
https://www.arcgis.com/apps/opsdashboard/index.html#/bda7594740fd40299423467b48e9ecf6
https://www.bbc.com/portuguese/brasil-53327880
https://www.redebrasilatual.com.br/politica/2020/10/bolsonaro-proibe-compra-vacina/
Prose and Poetry
IKIGAI
Her Eyes Never Lie
Aaryana Sharma
Maura Azzahara
I remember
What Mama had told me
About the Japanese culture
And the concept of Ikigai
The idea
That even broken
Looked beautiful
The more shattered
Cracked
Damaged
Discarded
Worn out
Something appeared
Or felt
The more beautiful it is
I wonder
If people are like that
If a person
Was falling apart
And having trouble
With so much
That I couldn't even imagine
That made them priceless
Extraordinary
And wondrous
Ikigai
Is the reason
For one's being
Their purpose
And to me
That was magical
her dark hazel eyes, dull and weary
her dark hazel eyes, that once were bright and dreamy
eyes that have seen too much tragic and sorrows;
now fully consumed by darkness
her dark hazel eyes, nowadays look sadder and emptier than ever
“are you okay?” they repeatedly asked; worried for her
her lips trembled but succesfully answered, “yes.”
lies after lies
many “yes” have been told,
but they knew.
they always know;
because the eyes never lie,
her dark hazel eyes never lie
her dark hazel eyes always tell the truth
and just like every other day, they shrug it off and ignore;
her honest eyes
her dark hazel eyes that only need a safe place to release the tears to.
No Two Alike
Sarah Syed
Walking in a path of crunchy golden sand
Lit by the luminescent moon making a pearl like path
The reflection casted upon the sea incomparable to any painted canvas The soft tidal waves slowly pressing against my cold bare feet
The reflections of my tears crystallizing in my own freezing bitter world.
Then,
It all stops
A deeper sound echoes through me
The waves becomes like fierce monsters crashing onto the shoreline The moon turns a dark painted colour
And before I know I am falling through a dark tunnel trying to catch my breath Landing a bed of cold hard rocks
My body still aching until today
But, one new difference yet to stay.
A void
Know what it feels like?
But what if you were forced to live in
For if you tried to escape, you would be lost in a deeper maze
However, if you find your way out, you would have to go back
But why?
Once caged in the shadows of gloom
But, one day to be found caged deeper than a world of doom
Because you are lost in a forest
Running in circles day and night
Left alone to cry the night
Like a lonely wolf trying to break one’s dead silence.
I was once trying to climb a hill of killer thoughts to find myself free at last Notwithstanding, I crumbled back down, retracing every step
Some thoughts I fear for they may cost more than my life but losing my one true self The sting goes deeper than the surface
I am a tree with many layers, each holding more pain.
Pain
A word so short but goes deeper than the surface
It means to me sticking out like a sore thumb
The more I tried to be like them, the more I realized I was only making a joke of myself For I was nothing like them at all
So, I sat in the shadows waiting for it to fade
Hoping that some happiness will emerge
But was I blind to see the light in front of me?!
When I was planning on surviving each day, they were planning on swaying me the wrong way My complicated smile only gave me away.
Now the fog has lifted and I can finally see clearly
Sinking into the pillow of endless dreams
The blurry vision has been cleared and now I see the space in the sky I only can fill.
I realized I sculpted my own world to darken upon me
I chose to walk into the dark destructive doom tunnel alone with no light to guide me The clouds crying tears were only for the plants
And just like that,
No tears left to cry
For there is no good reason
No point
No good cause in drifting my tears
The bittersweet feeling knowing you have found your true self
For who knew that your personality had a guard so hard to convince!
Yet, you persuaded and finally unlocked the treasure incomparable to the world’s gold Because even if they shoot darts so hard,
You have an inner shield harder than a skull.
The world should see the true me I have been trying to hide
No torrent of wind can break me
No depth of the ocean can stop me
For I build my own empire of positivity feeling more pride.
Now, I have the perfect melody to ring when adding my zing
My melody will stay a secret
But my zing is my uniqueness
And just like any two,
None will ever be alike.
On Tears Never Spilled
Anvitha Mattapalli
The bookshelf next to my nightstand is empty, cleaner than my innocence ever was and ever could be, begging for untold stories from forgotten worlds to relax and settle within its chambers. My stories cry from crippled spines and dusty pages, smeared with pain, blood, and accusations inexplicable to the newborn eyes, and yet I hug them close to my heart, unwilling to cache them away, never to be seen again.
They mirror me, these dying stories of mine. The scars that dance like flames across my once-honeyed skin run deeper than imaginable, slicing through the veins in my heart and etching memories soaked with raw agony into my soul. When dusk drizzles and moonlight showers upon sleepy faces, I’m met with the monsters of my past, lurking around the dark corners of my room and unveiling their hideous faces as I rest my eyes for the night.
The bruises behind my eyelids bleed translucent beads down the tenderness of my skin, imprinting prayers with the quiet notion they won’t be answered. I feel free during these moments, when the beads subside the burning in the back of my throat, when I can spill the contents of my soul freely without a panging in my lungs, shamelessly, as if nobody’s watching.
But they are watching, and as their eyes linger lowly a beat too long on the beads pouring down my face, they believe I don’t notice; I do. I can see the words, the labels, spinning and swirling and spiraling in their minds, plastering onto the very tenderness of my skin, crumbling the already-broken scraps of my heart to dust. Only one phrase manages to escape between their lips, and before they say it, I know what it is; Mama used to always tell me the same thing.
You’re a man. You're supposed to be brave and courageous and manly.
These words, they cut sharper than shards of glass, snip to pieces the stitches the translucent beads had woven within my heart, my soul. The ‘M’s in my certificates seem to bind me to expectations that I, that the dying stories locked in the depths of me, will never be able to fulfill, and they leave me with question marks of my identity that I just want to erase.
It’s pain when my sister’s afraid to walk outside at night, and it’s pain when my sibling has to pull down their crop-top and skirt, but no, no, no, it’s not pain when my heart beats aflutter in the middle of class, when my breath shivers faster and colder than winter’s harmonies, when reminders of sly hands and slapped belts across my skin make me clutch my shuddering frame like it’s my lifeline, when they think the pages of my dying stories merely leave me with papercuts. It’s not pain.
Because I am brave, I am courageous, I am strong, I am bold, I am determined, I am independent, I am manly, but have they all forgotten that I am human?