6. Grey Seals 2026

Nature vs. Nurture is one of the most famous topics that people debate. Which matters most: your genetics, or the nature of the people and environment around you? I am a supporter of the latter, and the biggest reason is because of the life I live. All of my writing skills come from the English language class I took from 1st grade all the way up to the end of middle school. Mrs. Margie, the name of my wonderful teacher, taught me everything I know about English, from verbs and adjectives to how to analyze a text. If it weren’t for her, I doubt I would be here typing this blog in an AP English class. Ms. Becker, my 6th grade teacher, taught me perseverance in writing, and how to never give up in writing no matter the circumstances. Mr. Howard, my 10th grade English teacher, taught me to look at literature with the perspective of the whole world rather than just my English classroom.  But English isn’t just about what or how I write, it’s also about how I communicate with people in d...

About a year ago, “6-7” took over the Internet. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on its over-usage; all of us have heard the dreaded three syllables repeated over and over again throughout the day ( especially on school days…) My brother’s a Gen Alpha kid, so, naturally, this nonsensical term made it to our dinner table.  I’ll admit it—I’m a little childish—so I made the jokes with him, leaving our parents confused and, understandably, a little annoyed. Somewhere along the line, though, my mom got in on the joke, slipping a bit of Gen Alpha slang into our conversations, and, eventually, even into her work meetings (she did have to explain the joke several times over).  When my mom, and then later, some of my teachers, started saying "six seven," though, it didn’t seem as funny anymore. When I thought about it, I realized—this inane term had only gained prominence and meaning because of the community that gave it meaning. That shared group identity is what allowed this phra...

This year, I had the opportunity to visit my maternal family’s ancestral home in a rural part of Udupi in India. The environment was unlike anything I had ever encountered before. The weather was hot and muggy, and a simple dirt path connected just three or four houses standing in front of a vast sea of grassland that was completely untouched by human hands. What struck me the most, however, was the way the place felt so unfamiliar to me despite its connection to my family. The fact that I could not even understand the language spoken there, which is called Tulu, made this feeling even more apparent. I grew hearing Hindi, which is a very musical language, whereas Tulu sounded much rougher to my ears. Although I can understand Hindi to a certain level, Tulu has always been a complete mystery to me because I was never really exposed to it when I was younger. This meant I could only recognize how the sounds of the language were a part of my heritage without being able to participate in it...