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Name_________________________________________________ Date_____________ Class_________

Identity UnitEssential Guiding Questions

How do individuals create an identity? How is a person’s identity influenced by specific factors?

Title of the Article Author Page Number1. “Generation Z Teens Stereotyped As 'Lazy And Unaware'”

Julianne Micoleta

2. “Hey, Toys 'R' Us, Stop Thrusting Gender Roles on My Kids!”

Rob Watson

3. “Fish Cheeks” Amy Tang4. “The Namesake” Jhumpa Lahiri

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1. Generation Z Teens Stereotyped (Labeled) As 'Lazy And

Unaware' | By Julianne Micoleta

Posted: 03/06/2012 10:19 am EST Updated: 03/06/2012 10:19 am EST

[1] You may recognize them as your constantly-connected, constantly-moving peers (other teens), but to the rest of the

world, they’re Generation Z: the lazy, apathetic (not caring) age group born between 1994 and 2004.[2] Though they’re characterized (described) as multi-tasking (doing multiple things at once) whizzes, they’re simultaneously (at the same time) garnering (earning) the reputation among older generations as being lazy, unaware and apathetic (not caring).

[3] Gen Z is often portrayed (described) as less engaged (not involved) in politics; they have short attention spans and don’t care about the weighty (difficult) issues that confront (challenge) their generation and the nation; and they’re more interested in technology and celebrities than staying active in their communities and schools.

[4] So what gives with Generation Lay-Z? “Unfortunately, I do think that our generation is somewhat guilty of that title,” Elk Grove junior Michelle Zerafin said. “I’m guilty of not being knowledgeable about the world and I can name 10 other people right now that aren’t either.” The characterizations come from the parents of Generation Z and prior (older) generations alike.

[5] “Compared to when I was growing up, I think that in some ways my daughter’s generation is more unaware of what’s going on the world,” Hellen Minev said, a parent of a Prospect student. “I don’t think they’re apathetic, though, I think they just have different priorities like their cellphones and Facebook.” Like

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Minev, many adults say much of the blame lies with Gen Z’s reliance (depending) on gadgets (technology).

[6] “You guys have all these devices like smartphones, touchscreens, iPhones, iPads, ‘iEverything,’“ Elk Grove history teacher Dan Davisson said. “It’d be hard for you guys to spend your energy on things like volunteering if you have all these distractions.”

[7] Furthermore, sitting around watching videos, texting or playing video games can lead to negative health effects for teens who would rather stay indoors and use their electronics than be active outdoors. They’re leading a sedentary (inactive) lifestyle that, when paired with a poor diet, can result in obesity, diabetes and other health problems.

[8] A 2009 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report found that approximately 17 percent of children and adolescents ages two-19 are obese. Since 1980, obesity rates have nearly tripled, the report shows.

[9] “No one calls each other up anymore and says, ‘Hey, want to go for a bike ride?’” Zerafin said. “And if they do, it’s rare (uncommon). Now it’s more like, ‘Hey, want to come over and play some ‘Call of Duty’?’

[10] While some worry that Gen Z is lazy and unprepared for the real world, Elk Grove junior Kate DeMeulenaere believes that it’s just a matter of survival of the fittest.

[11] “I don’t think anyone is ever really prepared,” she said. “But I think some just adapt (adjust) better than others and make more logical choices.”

[12] Elk Grove counselor Maria Mroz adds that making the right choices and having the right attitude from an early age is the way to beat the stigma (reputation) of being apathetic.

[13] “If more teenagers realize the value of their education they can beat those murmurs (rumors) of being apathetic right here at school,” Mroz said.

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[14] Huntley junior Christian Nunez tries to beat the label by keeping informed on current affairs (issues) and staying on top of his education.

[15] “Although sometimes I tend to let my grades slip, I try to compensate (balance) by trying harder. ... I also try to keep up with things that happen in other places,” he said.

[16] On the other hand, there are those like youth group pastor Jin Kim who believe that the lazy label isn’t really accurate (true).[17] “I don’t think this generation is apathetic at all,” Kim said. “If they are, then every other generation, including my own is apathetic as well. I have kids right in front me right now that spend their time and effort volunteering and being active in their community.

[18] “When I look at them I don’t see lazy or inattentive (daydreaming) kids. I see kids that are caring and hard-working, not apathetic.”

2. Hey, Toys 'R' Us, Stop Thrusting Gender Roles on My Kids!by Rob Watson

[1] I have to confess (admit) that I was oblivious (unaware) to how gender (male, female, other) essentialism (boys=blue & girls= pink) plays out for kids until I heard about the work of a grassroots (ordinary people) organization in the UK called Let Toys Be Toys. They have persuaded Toys 'R' Us in the UK to stop marketing (advertising) toys specifically to boys or girls. Moving forward, toys will be presented as gender-neutral (referring to both or neither genders) so that they may attract whatever child finds them interesting and compelling. What a concept!

[2] My first reaction was passive (total) agreement. It made sense to me, but was the in-store marketing really such a problem? I decided to look at it further, with a fresh set of eyes.

[3] I went online. I found the Toys 'R' Us website curiously disturbing. They definitely segregated (separated) boys' toys from

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girls' toys, and each had its unique, predetermined (fixed) subcategories. Boys had action-oriented categories, and girls had homemaking- and beauty-oriented categories. Even more intriguing were the subcategories that were the same for boys and girls, like art and electronics. Each of those subcategories contained the same items, plus a few extra items for the girls. But even the items that were the same for boys and girls were color-coded for gender. Boys had multi-colored (many colors) items, like normal, adult-oriented items. Girls had them in pink. It became obvious (clear) to me that even in areas that are essentially the same for boys and girls, the gender message is clear: separate but theoretically (supposedly) equal. Sort of like having the same job but different pay scales (salary) and career paths.

[4] When I went into our local Toys 'R' Us store, the differences were not subtle (not obvious). As I looked, the lyrics of Cher's recent hit song -- "Tell the truth: This is a woman's world" -- played in my mind. My thought was, "Cher has not been in a toy store recently."

[5] Mega conglomerates (companies) like Toys 'R' Us are making sure that it won't be a woman's world for a long, long time. This should be a woman's world. Women make up almost 51 percent of the United States population, but toy marketing clearly tells little girls where their place in the world is. It is a pink land that

exists somewhere between the easy-bake kitchen and the frivolous (unserious), glitzy (showy) fashion world, and nowhere else. It is far from a woman's (or a future woman's) world unless we define that world as one of choice and pursuit (search) of individual skills, aptitudes (abilities) and talents, regardless (unrelated to) of

gender.

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[6] In the world of toy marketing, decisions have been made and guidance put in place for kids of both genders, but with a heavy emphasis (importance) on segregation (separation) of girls. A walk down the toy aisle programs eager (enthusiastic), impressionable (gullible), wide-eyed young consumers (customers) to think in gendered ways and gives them answers to things that they have yet to question for themselves. And this is insidious (deceptive) not only for transgender (people whose gender differs from their assigned sex) youngsters but even for those who find that their gender expression (external personal characteristics) is completely consistent with their birth-assigned sex. For the former, it creates an intense pressure to identify in ways that are contrary (different) to how these children feel innately (naturally). For the latter, it removes all choice beyond a set of predetermined (fixed) roles.

[7] There were six aisles designated for toys for girls. There was only one with a sign that said "boys," but its blue color coding extended to several aisles. The subcategories in the blue: sports, action figures, construction. The girls' aisles were pink. Pink signs, pink toys, pink packages. Pink, pink, pink. All the other aisles in the store blended with the boys' aisles and provided a full spectrum (range) of colors and variety.

[8] The girls' section was a pink bubble. The themes: fashion, cooking and cleaning. The promotional words on the packages were fun and frivolous. In contrast, the toys that were meant for boys communicated, literally and figuratively, concepts such as leadership, command, speed, agility, skill, might

and success.

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[9] I got the message then and there. If you are a girl, your aspirations (goals) should be to play at elegance (sophistication), nurture (care for) a baby doll, and practice cooking and cleaning. If you are a boy, you are to aspire to a persona (identity) of power. You are to build physically, train and excel (do well).

[10] I really could not believe what I was seeing in front of me in this store that I had visited dozens of times before. For a decade I had walked through this mecca (center) of child consumerism (buying) oblivious (not aware) and complacent (satisfied). How could I have missed it? I felt guilty for having participated in this cultural child programming. But to be honest, when I was there with my sons, I was in defense mode against a constant barrage (attack) of the "gimmes," and it took all my willpower and focus to keep them in control, to the point that I was blind to the propaganda all around me.

[11] But even though I was not necessarily conscious (aware) of the gender-specific marketing of toys, I already understood that it was having an effect. A few nights before that visit to the local Toys 'R' Us store, my sons and I were at a restaurant that gives "kid gifts" with their meals.

[12] "Darn! They gave me a girl toy," declared my youngest son Jesse as he held up a little Care Bear figure.

[13] "What do you mean?" I asked. "It's a Care Bear. You used to have Care Bears. You used to love Care Bears."

[14] "It's a girl toy, Dad," he curtly (quickly) informed me.

[15] "How do you know?" I pressed.

[16] "We checked with our friends," he explained. "None of the boys play with them or watch them. They are for girls. They have pink on them." He shot me a reprimanding (criticizing) glare. Apparently our family had not gotten the memo, and in his mind this conversation was long overdue (late).

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[17] I let the conversation go for the time being, but I felt a sense of failure. My sons were never raised with the idea that any toy was off-limits to them because of their gender. Obviously, peer pressure had intervened (get involved) outside my watch. But was that all it was? Where and when did their peers "get the memo"? Now I know.

[18] I want my sons to welcome the pink. I want them to be nurturing, cook well and appreciate beautiful elegance. God knows I would love for them to clean more. And I want their female peers to be encouraged to explore all their talents as well. Why would we box tomorrow's brilliant scientist, military hero, sports goddess or architect into a pre-fabricated (easily built) role without choices?

[19] The song that is now playing in my head is no longer the one by a defiant (disobedient) Cher but another by a softly optimistic (positive) John Lennon, with my own minor modifications (changes):

"Imagine no kid gender classificationI wonder if you canNo need for pink or blue aislesA sisterhood of manImagine all the peopleSharing all the worldYou may say I'm a dreamerBut I'm not the only oneI hope someday you'll join usAnd the world will live as one."

[20] The challenges of this world are escalating (growing), and we need the talents of every individual to overcome them. Why on Earth would we intentionally (purposely) limit the potential to accomplish a given feat (achievement) to only half the population?

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3. Fish Cheeks

By Amy Tan

[1] I fell in love with the minister's son the winter I turned fourteen. He was not Chinese, but as white as Mary in the manger (innocent, from the Nativity scene). For Christmas I prayed for this blond-haired boy, Robert, and a slim (thin) new American nose.

[2] When I found out that my parents had invited the minister's family over for Christmas Eve dinner, I cried. What would Robert think of our shabby (messy, untidy) Chinese Christmas? What would he think of our noisy Chinese relatives who lacked (did not have) proper American manners? What terrible disappointment would he feel upon seeing not a roasted turkey and sweet potatoes but Chinese food?

[3]On Christmas Eve I saw that my mother had outdone (overly successful) herself in creating a strange menu. She was pulling black veins out of the backs of fleshy prawns (like a shrimp). The kitchen was littered (covered) with appalling (disgusting) mounds (piles) of raw food: A slimy rock cod (fish) with bulging (popping out) eyes that pleaded (begged) not to be thrown into a pan of hot oil. Tofu, which looked like stacked wedges of rubbery white sponges. A bowl soaking dried fungus back to life. A plate of squid, their backs crisscrossed with knife markings so they resembled bicycle tires.

[4]And then they arrived – the minister's family and all my relatives in a clamor (loud noises) of doorbells and rumpled (crumpled) Christmas packages. Robert grunted hello, and I pretended he was not worthy of existence.

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[5] Dinner threw me deeper into despair. My relatives licked the ends of their chopsticks and reached across the table, dipping them into the dozen or so plates of food. Robert and his family waited patiently for platters to be passed to them. My relatives murmured (mumbled) with pleasure when my mother brought out the whole steamed fish. Robert

grimaced (frowned). Then my father poked his chopsticks just below the fish eye and plucked (pulled out) out the soft meat. "Amy, your favorite," he said, offering me the tender fish cheek. I wanted to disappear.

[6]At the end of the meal my father leaned back and belched (burped) loudly, thanking my mother for her fine cooking. "It's a polite Chinese custom to show you are satisfied," explained my father to our astonished (shocked) guests. Robert was looking down at his plate with a reddened face. The minister managed to muster up a quiet burp. I was stunned into silence for the rest of the night.

[7]After everyone had gone, my mother said to me, "You want to be the same as American girls on the outside." She handed me an early gift. It was a miniskirt in beige (peach) tweed (woolen fabric). "But inside you must always be Chinese. You must be proud you are different. Your only shame is to have shame."

[8]And even though I didn't agree with her then, I knew that she understood how much I had suffered during the evening's dinner. It wasn't until many years later – long after I had gotten over my crush on Robert – that I was able to fully appreciate her lesson and the true purpose behind our particular menu. For Christmas Eve that year, she had chosen all my favorite foods.

4. from The NamesakeBy Jhumpa Lahiri

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(1) There is a reason Gogol doesn’t want to go to kindergarten. His parents have told him that at school, instead of being called Gogol, he will be called by a new name, a good name, which his parents have finally decided on, just in time for him to begin his formal education. The name, Nikhil, is artfully connected to the old. Not only is it a perfectly respectable Bengali good name, meaning “he who is entire, encompassing all,” but it also bears (allows) a satisfying resemblance (similarity) to Nikolai, the first name of the Russian Gogol’s. Ashoke thought of it recently, staring mindlessly (daydreaming) at the Gogol spines (books) in the library, and he rushed back to the house to ask Ashima her opinion. He pointed out that it was relatively easy to pronounce, though there was the danger that Americans, obsessed with abbreviation (shortening words), would truncate (shorten) it to Nick. She told him she liked it well enough, though later, alone, she’d wept (cried), thinking of her grandmother, who had died earlier in the year, and of the letter, forever hovering (flying) somewhere between India and America.

(2) But Gogol can’t understand why he has to answer to anything else. “Why do I have to have a new name?” he asks his parents, tears springing (coming quickly) to his eyes. It would be one thing if his parents were to call him Nikhil, too. But they tell him that the new name will be used only by the teachers and children at school. He is afraid to be Nikhil, someone he doesn’t know. Who doesn’t know him. His parents tell him that they each have two names, too, as do all their Bengali friends in America, and all their relatives in Calcutta. It’s a part of growing up, they tell him, part of being a Bengali. They write it for him on a sheet of paper, ask him to copy it over ten times. “Don’t worry,” his father says. “To me and your mother, you will never be anyone but Gogol.”

(3) At school, Ashoke and Gogol are greeted by the secretary, who asks Ashoke to fill out a registration form. He provides a copy of Gogol’s birth certificate and immunization (medical shots) records, which are put in a folder along with the registration. “This way,” the secretary says, leading them to the principal’s office. Candace Lapidus, the name on the door says. Mrs. Lapidus assures Ashoke that missing the first

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week of kindergarten is not a problem, that things have yet to settle down. Mrs. Lapidus is a tall, slender (thin) woman with short white-blond hair. She wears frosted blue eye shadow and a lemon-yellow suit. She shakes Ashoke’s hand and tells him that there are two other Indian children at the school, Jayadev Modi, in the third grade, and Rekha Saxena, in fifth. Perhaps the Gangulis know them? Ashoke tells Mrs. Lapidus that they do not. She looks at the registration form and smiles kindly at the boy, who is clutching (squeezing) his father’s hand. Gogol is dressed in powder-blue pants, red-and-white canvas sneakers, a striped turtleneck top.

(4) “Welcome to elementary school, Nikhil. I am your principal, Mrs. Lapidus.”

(5) Gogol looks down at his sneakers. The way the principal pronounces his new name is different from the way his parents say it, the second part of it longer, sounding like “heel.”

(6) She bends down so that her face is level with his, and extends (reaches) a hand to his shoulder. “Can you tell me how old you are, Nikhil?”

(7) When the question is repeated and there is still no response, Mrs. Lapidus asks, “Mr. Ganguli, does Nikhil follow English?”

(8) “Of course he follows,” Ashoke says. “My son is perfectly bilingual.”In order to prove that Gogol knows English, Ashoke does something he has never done before, and addresses his son in careful, accented English. “Go on, Gogol,” he says, patting him on the head. “Tell Mrs. Lapidus how old you are.”

(9) “What was that?” Mrs. Lapidus says.(10) “I beg your pardon, Madam?”(11) “That name you called him. Something with a ‘G.’ ”(12) “Oh that, that is what we call him at home only. But his

good name should be—is”—he nods his head firmly— “Nikhil.”(13) Mrs. Lapidus frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.

‘Good name’?”(14) “Yes.”(15) Mrs. Lapidus studies the registration form. She has not

had to go through this confusion with the two other Indian children.

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(16) “I’m not sure I follow you, Mr. Ganguli. Do you mean that Nikhil is a middle name? Or a nickname? Many of the children go by nicknames here. On this form there is a space—”

(17) “No, no, it’s not a middle name,” Ashoke says. He is beginning to lose patience. “He has no middle name. No nickname. The boy’s good name, his school name, is Nikhil.”

(18) Mrs. Lapidus presses her lips together and smiles. “But clearly he doesn’t respond.”

(19) “Please, Mrs. Lapidus,” Ashoke says. “It is very common for a child to be confused at first. Please give it some time. I assure you he will grow accustomed (used to it).”

(20) He bends down, and this time in Bengali, calmly and quietly, asks Gogol to please answer when Mrs. Lapidus asks a question. “Don’t be scared, Gogol,” he says, raising his son’s chin with his finger. “You’re a big boy now. No tears.”

(21) Though Mrs. Lapidus does not understand a word, she listens carefully, hears that name again. Gogol. Lightly, in pencil, she writes it down on the registration form.

(22) Ashoke hands over the lunchbox, a windbreaker (jacket) in case it gets cold. He thanks Mrs. Lapidus. “Be good, Nikhil,” he says in English. And then, after a moment’s hesitation (waiting), Gogol’s father is gone.

(23) At the end of his first day he is sent home with a letter to his parents from Mrs. Lapidus, folded and stapled to a string around his neck, explaining that owing to their son’s preference he will be known as Gogol at school. What about the parents’ preference? Ashima and Ashoke wonder, shaking their heads. But since neither of them feels comfortable pressing (asking about) the issue, they have no choice but to give in…

5. Dominican Immigrants Face Challenges in New York City Public Schools

Jeffrey Zahka April 30, 2006

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While school zoning laws (where students can attend school) are designed to promote integration (combining) among student ethnicities throughout the New York City school system, most Dominicans find themselves in schools of high Latino concentration, particularly in upper-Manhattan and throughout the Bronx. (Photo: Wikipedia.org)[1] Bureaucracy (state officials making decisions), language barriers, social stigmatization (disapproval of a person based on characteristics): newly arrived high school students from the Dominican Republic face unprecedented (first time) challenges in their journey through the labyrinthine (maze) New York City Department of Education. Along the way, they are confronted (challenged) by contrasts (differing) in expectations that, in the end, force them to reconsider (think about) their roles as teenagers in their newly adopted countries.[2] "I think the role of kids in society is very different," says Patricia Nuñez, 36, a Dominican-American teacher of Spanish at the Bronx High School of Science in New York City. Having spent her summers in the Dominican Republic since childhood, Nuñez understands the underlying (essential) differences between Dominican students and their American counterparts (peers). "American kids consider themselves as vital a member of society as any adult. This is something … [Dominican students] consider new and attractive," Nuñez says. Unlike American students, young people in the Dominican Republic are expected to defer (listen) to their elders, offering little in the way of insight (ideas) on their own opinions and conditions (ways of life). Attending school in New York City for the first time, many of these newly arrived students find the social freedoms offered to their American counterparts both refreshing and liberating (freeing). "When they experience it for the first time, it's like 'Wow! People care about what I think!" Nuñez says. Such newfound (recent) freedom, however, has consequences in the home. Dominican parents often complain about a loss of control over their children, many of whom quickly become immersed (occupied) in the culture of the teenage "Dominican Yorker": one who, having shed (let go of) many of the cultural restrictions (limitations) imposed

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(put) on Dominican children by a society in which young people are expected to defer (listen) to their elders at all times, has become more outspoken (opinionated) in his or her dealings (conversations) with teachers and parents, while fusing (combining) the broader aspects (parts) of Dominican and American culture. [3] While school zoning laws are designed to promote integration (combining) among student ethnicities (racial and cultural backgrounds) throughout the New York City school system, most Dominicans find themselves in schools of high Latino concentration, particularly in upper-Manhattan and throughout the Bronx. The ghetto-like atmosphere that pervades (goes into_ some of these schools is but one of the many obstacles to full assimilation (integration) faced by newly arrived Dominican students. [4] "If you don't speak the language, you don't feel like you belong," says Bianca Rodriguez, 20, a student at Hostos Community College in the Bronx, who arrived from Santo Domingo two years ago. "No one wants to give you a hand and most don't want to help." Stress is no stranger to the lives of newly arrived Dominican students. Not surprisingly, language barriers (obstacles) are the most formidable (difficult) obstacle (challenge) to the success of these students. Such cultural isolation (being alone) extends (continues) into the high school classroom, where Spanish speaking Dominican students are regularly dumped (put) into bilingual classes, and are often treated as a burden (heavy weight) on the school, rather than as equals with their English-speaking counterparts. The schools they attend are generally in low-income (not a lot of money), high crime areas, and often contain (have) poorly qualified teachers with high staff turnovers (many teachers quit). Combined with the challenges posed (presented) by their new urban environments, such students often take on a "victim mentality" (whatever happens, happens) of one who is at the mercy (power) of the powers-that-be (people in control). Students often cope (handle) with such stress by separating themselves into close-knit ethnic groupings and are especially susceptible (vulnerable) to recruitment by street gangs.

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[5] At home, the stress takes a different form. "I think the environment created in the home doesn't create a structured household," says one Dominican-American, who asked that her name not be used. "Many immigrant households don't create the necessary environment for learning, in comparison with wealthier households [in the Dominican Republic] where there is a greater emphasis (importance) on education." Indeed, while the vast majority of immigrant families are of the poorer Dominican classes, there is less exposure (experience) in the Dominican Republic to long-term schooling for children of these same families. One of the reasons for this lack of exposure, according to Robert Mercedes, Principal of Middle School 390 in the Bronx, and President of the Association of Dominican-American Supervisors and Administrators, is the disconnection which often occurs between Dominican parents — who many times emigrate to the United States ahead of their children — and their sons and daughters, who are often left behind in the care of grandparents or other relatives. "Kids are arriving in the United States without a basic foundation in their own language," Mercedes says. "This makes it more difficult to transition (switch) to English." The lack (shortage) of native-language facility, according to Mercedes, is at times the result of a lax (not caring) attitude among those children who stay behind in the Dominican Republic and their guardians toward a disciplined (strict) education, resulting in the loss of a valuable growth period within the child's educational development. The lack of developmental skills reinforces (strengthens) the isolation felt among many of these same students upon their arrival in the United States. Such students are often at once strangers not only to their new country, but also to their own parents and families — some of whom they may not have seen for years. [6] Other problems pertain (relate) to the more traditional economic concerns faced by low-income families within the Dominican Republic, and their exposure to an American-style system of compulsory (mandatory) education. "Most parents in the D.R. want their children to go to school," Nuñez says. However, in a country where there are no set child labor laws, educating a child — even at a state-run school for which there is no charge — is viewed as a costly (expensive) endeavor for those

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families who are struggling to make ends meet. According to the World Bank, 13 percent of children ages 7 to 14 do not attend class because they work outside the home while, according to Unicef, 16 percent of children in the Dominican Republic, ages 10 to 17 are illiterate (cannot read and write). Among poor immigrant families, in which one or both parents may have had little or no schooling, the opportunities for the children to attend public school in New York City — despite the obvious (clear) benefits — often leads to envy (jealously) and resentment (hatred) among the parents. "It's a lot more challenging for the parents to learn English," Nuñez says. "They're not at a good job, and the child is beginning to find his way in society. The child has freedom, and the parents realize this. Meanwhile, the parents see their [own] opportunities dwindling (lessening). The parents thus feel a loss of control over their child." [7] For those students who have successfully negotiated (talked) their way through the New York City public school system, a return back to the Dominican Republic usually invites commentary (talk) from family and former friends, in tones both admiring and antagonizing (irritating). "Many [in the Dominican Republic] don't like returned Dominicans because of the attitudes they bring with them," says Bianca Rodriguez. Such attitudes at times include a defiance (disobedience) of authority, flamboyance (showing off), and a general sense of arrogance (better than you attitude) towards those who they have left in the Dominican Republic. Like many immigrant groups, Dominicans have long viewed the United States as a land of limitless (endless) wealth, in which a stay for only a few years can make one fabulously rich. Such myths (lies) were reinforced (supported) during the 1980's, in which areas of heavy Dominican immigration like Washington Heights became the hub (center) of the New York City crack epidemic. From the Heights flowed thousands of dollars in cash to families back home, offering some old-country neighborhoods opportunities for improvement and reconstruction. While those heady days have since subsided, for many poor Dominican families, sending at least one family member to the United States is still viewed as a way out of the drudgery of developing world poverty. For many of those who have emigrated, a return visit home offers a chance to boast of their newfound success — real

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or not. Gold chains, baggy jeans and Yankee caps are often the hallmark of the returned Dominican teenager whose independence and self-empowerment often reflect the supreme confidence of the quintessential Dominican-Yorker. But not all Dominicans appreciate such styles. "When you go home, everyone sees you as an American," Nuñez says, "while in New York, you are a Dominican."

6. Choices of TomorrowBy Fiona

1 As the sun sets, another day’s departed (left)2 Distant memories light my way back home3 Mysteries aren’t for the faint hearted (lacking courage, timid),4 Can’t escape the past as it’s set in stone5 An ending leads to a new beginning, 6 But beginnings come to ends in the road7 Great times vanish (disappear), the Cheshire cat’si grinning8 These are words that I’ve bestowed (to give something as a gift or honor) 9 Decisions in life may be good or dire (terrible)10 You have to walk through the right doors in life 11 Your judgment may land you knee deep in mire (mud), 12 Or otherwise lead you to joy or strife (difficulties) 13 Who knows what my life’s journey has in store? 14 I shall wait to walk through tomorrow’s door___________________________________________________________________ The Cheshire cat is a character in Lewis Carroll's novel Alice in Wonderland. It is

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a cat that disappears, leaving only its smile behind. This means that although the good times have passed, the happy memories remain.

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7. Is Money Affecting Your Social Status?Is your family income affecting your friendships? Teen Vogue reports on class envy.By Reniqua Allen

Samantha*, 21, from Tacoma, always appeared to be one of the richest girls at her high school. She had stylish clothes, took violin lessons, and had lots of pals with fat wallets. But she was hiding a secret only a few of her close friends and teachers knew about—her mom was struggling to make ends meet after a nasty divorce. "People didn't know my financial situation," she says. "My sister shopped a lot, so I borrowed her clothes. It seemed like we had excess, but in the end it was my mom taking on a lot of burdens." Samantha says blending in with her wealthy neighbors helped to increase her social status. "I think the pressure for students to fit in is a common thing. I had to act the part to keep people from thinking there was something about me that was different and so I was able to sit with the popular girls."

At a time when the Bureau of Labor Statistics estimates that more than 9 percent of Americans are unemployed, class divisions are widening, creating tough social situations for many teens. Though it's not commonly talked about, how much cash your parents have can often have a huge effect on your allowance, popularity, and, more importantly, who your BFFs are.

Eighteen-year-old Tiara, from Chicago, who considers herself middle-class, agrees with Samantha. "In my high school, clothes made you more

popular. If you didn't have the right clothes or the latest brands, people would tear you down."

Sometimes in our society we equate success and popularity with high-priced items," says Variny Yim Paladino, coauthor of The Teen Girl's Gotta-Have-It Guide to Money(Watson-Guptill). Gossiping about who's broke and who has bank can be a favorite topic of conversation among girls, many of whom say that items like smartphones, purses, and shoes are important status symbols.But it's not just the have-nots who worry about money. Stephanie, a 20-year-old college student from San Antonio who lives in New York City, says her family is solidly upper-class—they pay for her college, trips abroad, and living expenses—but even she feels the stress. Friends who have more disposable incomes are regularly on her to go to pricey restaurants and clubs that leave her in the red. "When you have a friend who's constantly wanting to go out for dinner every day, it puts more pressure on you," she says. "Sometimes I'll look at my credit card bill, and all those Frappuccinos and taxicab rides add up—and I'm like, I can't do this again."

Being in a different income bracket from your friends can be tough. Lisa*, nineteen, from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, grew up lower-class. She remembers feeling envious when her best friend got $600 from her uncle to spend just for fun. "I was like, Whoa, can you break me off? I wasn't as fortunate as some of my friends. I've never spent more than $20 on a pair of jeans. I wore Payless until I was fourteen. And my first bike came from a garage sale."

Though Samantha still worries about her cash flow now that she's at an Ivy League university, she's less concerned about whether or not people think she's rich or poor. "Now I'm surrounded by a new level of wealth: kids with trust funds and allowances every week. It was— and still is—very tough for me." But, she says, she's less wrapped up in pretending to

be something she isn't. "I've shared my true financial situation with a core set of friends. They're extraordinary people that I value, not just monetarily but for the trust and investment we have in our friendship." *Name has been changed.