Pencils and Erasers

  Up until now, and probably for the rest of high school, sleepovers with friends are a no go. This is more of a non-negotiable and still feels highly unnecessary. All my friends have sleepovers, and absolutely nothing happens. But usually rules like these don’t come out of thin air, they come from somewhere deeper than simple logic and explanation. Throughout the past week in chapters 8-10 of The Best We Could Do we undoubtedly see how Thi Bui’s parents carry the hold onto the weight of war, escape, and instability, and it floods right into their parenting. The rules they have, like about answering the door, aren’t explained but simply followed. Things like these might feel severe but when you understand what they’ve lived through (escaping Vietnam, rebuilding from dust, generational trauma) these rules start to make perfect sense. They aren’t about controlling but protecting the ones they love. When you see just how quickly safety fades away, you don’t take chances with any pe...

  Stories normally start from scratch, looking head on for what’s to come. But some stories are about rebuilding the past from the damage it has inflicted. In The Best We Could Do, the author, Thi Bui demonstrates how powerful forces such as wars, governments, and the unfortunate patterns of history can push ordinary people onto extraordinary journeys. As we continue to read in depth of the story of this Vietnamese family, I’ve come to recognize that this situation doesn’t just stay within the borders of this graphic novel, but it echoes right into my own home. My dad was only about 15 years old when he left Iraq during the peak of the tension and violence of war in search for a sustainable life. Just like Bui’s story, my dad’s mirrors the same fear and ambiguity more than I’ve ever realized. Similarly to how Bui’s fled borders from the people who controlled power, my dad left Iraq illegally with nothing but luck and timing. He was led by a professional biker who was also fleeing...