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Teen Ink Magazine,
March 2001 :
Nonfiction Articles
An Ode to Youth
Youth is ... Falling in love with pizza for the first time. It's sneakinginto the girls' bathroom Then getting high-fives from all yourbuddies. Youth is the taste of the soap That your mom just shoved down yourthroat for saying a cuss word.
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Don Juan, Goldfish
This selection can be found in
Teen Ink Love and Relationships,
the fourth in the Teen Ink book series, all available in bookstores nationwide and online.
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My Dad
When I was a little girl, my dad used to say howmuch he loved me, and until the day I die, I will never forget those sweet words.Last March I lost something a child is not supposed to lose - a parent.
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Potlatch
I am a half-blooded Athabascan Indian and havelearned the lifestyle of the Athabascan culture, in addition to Western culture.Living close to my father's village of Mentasta has made me familiar with myheritage.
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Recapture the Past
This selection can be found in Teen Ink Friendsand Family, the third in the Teen Ink book series, all available inbookstores nationwide and online. Continue...
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Stitches of Love
"Every stitch is stitched with love. If youcould count the number of stitches in this quilt, that is how much I loveyou."
This is what my grandmother told me the day she gave me myquilt.
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The Importance of Promises
This selection can be found in Teen Ink Love andRelationships, the fourth in the Teen Ink book series, all available inbookstores nationwide and online.
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The Morning Climb Aloft
The ocean ... the smell of the sea on a breezysummer morning. The sound of the seals and birds saying hello. The wind blowingin my face and the tired look on everyone else's at 7 a.m.
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The Soccer Game
I watch them fly across the field, the black andwhite checkered ball skipping and dancing on their toes. They sound like a herdof elephants, but their blue and green uniforms glitter in the sun likebutterflies.
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Visiting Tanana
"Welcome home, kids," my aunt greeted meand my little brother as we stepped off the riverboat. I was 14 and it had beennine years since I had set foot on the sand beach of Tanana, Alaska. It was adreary July day in this Athabascan village.
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