Fleur de Aleta

You know those Facebook ads that pop up and drown out your friends’ posts? One caught my eye the other day. It said, “People aren’t using AI to its fullest ability. They’re using it like Google. It can do so much more—like create websites.” That made me pause. I had already used AI to help me plan a jam-packed trip to Maryland and DC. It guided me through what was in the area, the costs, the best routes, the dates, times, and even which tickets I needed. It was incredibly helpful! But a website? That felt like a whole new world. I had to ask—and AI answered back: “Yes, absolutely.” From there, the adventure began. With my creative ideas and AI’s technical knowledge, we built a plan. I wanted a free online gallery for my artwork. I’d tried WIX, but with too many pictures, it was going to cost me. Together, we decided on a better path. AI generated the code, and I wrestled with uploading it. That alone felt like a mountain climb—but I made it. Then came the real work: page by page, line ...

A Blessing for My Son May your steps be steady, though the corridors twist and turn. Every hallway you enter is a threshold, a place where courage meets becoming. May your voice rise like sunlight, clear and unafraid, joining choirs of laughter and song, reminding you that even the smallest note has the power to echo. May your hands keep finding music, your mind keep chasing wonder, and your heart remain wide open— for these are gifts no grade can measure. When shadows lean close, may you remember: strength is not the absence of fear but the quiet choice to go on, to walk forward with grace. Above all, may you know you are cherished beyond measure, capable beyond doubt, and already becoming the kind of light the world is in need of.

Dear Son, Last year was a milestone—your leap from elementary into a school that houses both middle and high school. It felt enormous at first. Before 6th grade began, you volunteered to help teachers set up their classrooms, a gift of service that also helped you learn the campus. I still remember “picnic day,” the day we walked your schedule together, searching for classes in a maze of oddly numbered rooms. We were both nervous, trying to imagine how it would all unfold. This year, at the 7th grade picnic day, I saw the change. You walked the halls with ease, guiding me instead of the other way around. You greeted classmates with a smile, carried yourself with confidence, and showed me where everything was—even though your classes were new. That shift, from nerves to quiet pride, is something I will never forget. 6th grade was no small adjustment. At Haynes Advanced Academy, there’s no easing in—homework is heavy, expectations are high, and playtime is gone. But you had already learn...