On Monday, November 6, my Human Development class began our 70-minute session as usual—venting about recent stress and frustrations. Normally, we would talk about upcoming tests and quizzes and how tired...

*Content warning: Discussion of depression Two years ago, I found myself looking around an empty bedroom. Four walls. No windows. How ironic, I thought, that a house in California would block out all...

Westridge students love to debate and argue, but there’s one thing we can agree on: how much we all enjoy the Commons’ breakfast burrito.  What’s not to love? The creamy scrambled eggs, the crispy...

I am wrestling with NIMBYism in reverse: Erewhon, the astronomically-expensive, specialty grocery store and darling of influencer culture, has opened in Pasadena, and I’m not happy about it. $22 celebrity-endorsed...

This article is a follow-up to the article titled “How Does Westridge’s Culture of Competition and Achievement Impact Eating Disorders?” by Katie S. ’23.   It’s 3:10 p.m., and the...

Hello, my name is Carolina, and I am a junior. Growing up, I have had a very diverse and unique music taste thanks to my parents. They have introduced me to everything under the sun, ranging from Motown...

This summer, I spent approximately 53 hours traveling on planes, buses, and trains, leaving me with plenty of time for reflection. When I wasn’t sleeping, watching the final season of Never Have I Ever,...

My fingers hover over the keys of the piano as I outline the lines of music in my head: extended chord, rest, hold. I take a breath and begin playing. As my fingers move swiftly across the keyboard, my...

My older sister Isa bursts through our connecting door, shrieking, “It’s happening!” She turns her phone to me and reveals a Taylor Nation Instagram livestream. “I know!” I tell her excitedly,...

Last summer I took a leap of faith and did something I never imagined I could do: For two weeks in June I lived in a deep and magical forest in northern California at Bar 717 Camp Trinity. No, there...

Spring Break does not normally entail a visit to the Museum of Tolerance, but it did for mine. This past March, alongside 20 other Jewish teens, I visited the museum for the first time to reflect on the...

I’m done saying sorry. I mean if I break your leg, ruin your painting, or take the last burrito from the commons—sure, I’ll apologize. But what I’m talking about is the repeated and unnecessary...