Executive Summary:

My name is Mikella Vermaire. I’m a junior at University Laboratory High School in Urbana. In my time in high school, I have participated in cross country, track, madrigals, and 3 different clubs: Spring Initiative, Pediatric Cancer Awareness Club, and United for Uganda. Outside of school, I’m very active at my church, working in the early childhood department and the elementary school department. I have a passion for working with children and helping them grow. I love being able to see that I’m helping the next generation to rise up and become influential and powerful teachers, students, and citizens. I believe that in order to make the world a better place, we need to instill courage, love, and a sense of morality into the rising generation, so that they can show that courage, love, and morality to the people around them as they become adults. I think it’s important to balance fun and learning for all children. If I’m accepted into this program, I plan to do all of this for children that I wouldn’t normally get the chance to do this for and with.

Needs Assessment:

            I am currently receiving no financial aid for my study abroad. I am a working high school student. I come from a family that is not wealthy. Both of my parents have jobs, but they are not extremely well-paying jobs. I will be paying for the entirety of this trip with scholarships and my own monetary funds. In order to study abroad, I would need to pay to fly to South Africa, pay for my tuition, room and board, and all expenses while I’m there. Before the trip, I am planning to be a working college student, so while I will have money, I won’t have enough money to pay for my college loans and a study abroad trip. 

Why Do We Still Eat Meat?

Anyone could tell you that physical health is an extremely important aspect of a person’s life. We hear a lot about weight, weight-loss, eating healthy, 60 minutes of exercise, etc. but many people are completely misinformed about what exactly is healthy. A common misconception—specifically in America—is that you need an excessive amount of protein. While it’s true that protein is an important nutrient, we do not need nearly as much as people think. Americans eat nearly 6% more protein than we actually need. Because of our misconceptions about protein, many people think that vegetarianism, and even veganism, are both harmful to the body. However, there are many ways to get the proper amount of protein from a vegetarian diet. Meat is not essential. We can get the proper amount of protein from nuts, soya, dry lentils, and more. Plus, not eating meat could help cut down on the overdose of protein that most of us are taking in. Protein isn’t the only nutrient that people think you can’t get from being vegetarian/vegan, but that just doesn’t make sense. Many of the nutrients people get in their diets come from fruits and vegetable or we can get those nutrients from fruits and vegetables—or raw food based products.

Not only are vegetarianism and veganism just as healthy—if not more so—in terms of nutrients, they are healthier in terms of fats and sodium. Meat and dairy have a significant amount of fat. Think about this: milk was MADE by the cow to turn a 60 lb. calf into a 1,600 lb cow. And people are wondering why they’re gaining weight as they drink milk… As well, red meat is known to cause a significant number of health problems, but we continue to eat it.

Speaking of eating meat, things like hot dogs and sausage should be illegal. They are all the discarded parts of an animal that aren’t used for the normal meats. 

At Least One Million Times Per Day

How Much Do You Cuss?

I’ve never really understood the whole “you cuss like a sailor” metaphor. Do sailors cuss a lot? I can’t really believe that being a sailor is the most cuss-worthy profession. I feel like doctors should cuss more than sailors. When a doctor loses a patient or when they have a huge wave of patients all at once, I feel like that’s more dramatic than most of the things that happen on ships.

                I also feel that way about being a student. So many things happen in a day that are definitely cuss-worthy: you drop something heavy on your foot, you get a 23% on a sophomore history test, you realize that you have a math project due today that you haven’t started, you find out that you have to make up 10 hours of tardy service… I feel as though all of those are “fuck!” worthy. Sometimes when I cuss it’s because of one of those things. Most of the time, I cuss because I’m annoyed or feel very strongly on a particular issue. I remember that once a teacher heard me cussing—it’s actually happened way more than once, but I don’t have time or space to write them all down—while in the kitchen. Our Spanish class had been making churros the entire period, and I was the one who had to finish putting them into the grease. There were people all around my wanting a churro—I hadn’t even gotten one myself, yet—and it was making me extremely annoyed. Add in to the mix Martin who kept making jokes about my cooking skills which, although they made me laugh, were also very teasing. I think I ended up dropping at least three f-bombs, used the curse-word equivalent of “female dog” at least twice, and said a series of four letters meaning excrement at least twelve times.

                I also think that my surroundings lend themselves to curse words. Uni is a very liberal school, and my friends are very liberal people. My friends say cuss words almost as much or more than I do—I’m talking about you Martin—and it kind of grows from there. When one person cusses a lot in a conversation, it draws cuss words out of other people for the entirety of the conversation. But don’t be fooled, it’s not just the students. One of my teachers says a word that resembles a cuss word, or even the actual cuss word at least once per class period, and many other teachers hear cuss-words and don’t really care.

                I also think that my age helps. I’m seventeen, and am going to be a legal adult later this year, and as such feel like if I want to say “shit” or “damn” or anything even vaguely relating, I should be able to do so. Those words don’t hurt the people I’m saying them to, so I feel as though they should be acceptable. I’m not using them in a mean or inherently offensive way, and most of the time, if someone doesn’t want to hear them, they can either leave the room or carry on with a different conversation. 

Let Me Live: do you have helicopter parents?

There are a few different types of parents. The helicopter parents, the living-vicariously-through-my-kids parents, the over-protective parents, the terrible parents, and the mixed parents. My parents fall into the mixed parents: helicopter, over-protective, and living vicariously.

When I was younger, before I got my license, my parents had to know everything I was doing and they had to know about it in advance. I remember one day I really wanted to go to my best friend’s house. It was spring and I wanted to walk the block and a half to her house and hang out with her for a few hours. I went to ask my parents and they pointed out two major things to me: planning and details. I needed to plan ahead and decide at least three days in advance when I wanted to do something. The “needed information” or details as I like to call it, was and still is the most annoying part of asking my parents for anything: how are you getting there, when is it, where is it, when do you need to leave, how are you getting home, when are you getting home, do you need to bring anything, who will be there, what will you be doing, etc. I had the answer to only one of those questions, so the answer was decidedly no. As I implied, this is still one of the most annoying and still one of the largest issues I have with my parents. However, the planning part of this isn’t quite as big of a deal to them. Now if I want to go to the mall one day or go out to eat or take a friend to an event that I’m already going to, it’s much more likely that I’ll be able to do it.

Legal curfew for a seventeen year old is 11:00pm. My parents rarely let me out past 10:30. I’m not allowed to go to gas stations after 8:30. I can’t take a shower later than 9:30 because my hair should be mostly dry by my set bedtime at 10:30. Yes, I said bedtime. I’m seventeen years old and I have a bedtime. I can’t go out to lunch on campus during school unless it’s a special occasion. I’m not allowed to drive further than Decatur. My parents have more rules than these, some more ridiculous while others are more standard.

The story that sticks in my mind when thinking about my parents is a recent one. I asked them if I could ask someone to a dance. I had the entire ask planned out. I was going to go buy Dos Reales for him (that was the first place we went to eat together) and write out a sign that said “It’s always a fiesta with you, vv?” I was so excited. I was bursting at the seams to tell them about my plan, and when I did, they said “no.” At first, I was confused. “what do you mean no?” what in the world were they saying no to? “You’re not going to make a big deal out of asking this boy. You guys aren’t even dating. It’s unnecessary.” Things like that happen to me a lot.

It really upsets me that my parents have decided that they have to control a variety of aspects of my life. I’m seventeen years old, I think I can decide when I come home and what time I shower and what time I go to bed and most other things. It’s not as if I’m out doing dangerous things, usually I just want to go to a movie or out for b-dubs with church people. Sadly my parents don’t see it that way. They don’t see me as a person who needs to figure out how to be independent, they see me as a child who can’t make her own decisions. 

How much self-control do you have?

            If there is one thing I can say about myself, it’s that I’m loud. Everything about me is loud; not just my voice, but my personality, my opinions, my clothing, everything. Everything I’m thinking comes out of my mouth. If I want something, you will hear about it. If I did something I’m proud or embarrassed of, you will hear about it. If I’m angry or happy, there is absolutely no way in this world or any other that you won’t know within three minutes.

            I distinctly remember subbie year when I heard that One Direction was coming to Illinois, I screamed. Not a “haha cool” scream, it was an “OH MY FREAKING GOODNESS I’M SO EXCITED” scream. Everyone in the school heard it and teased me about it for the rest of that school year. They would laugh and bring up the fact that One Direction were coming/had come, or mimic my scream. It was a fun little joke.

            Last semester in Ms. Majerus’ Nineteenth Century Novel class, we were reading Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion by Jane Austen. I absolutely hated those books. They were hard to read, boring, and there was no real objective in the books. When Ms. Majerus asked how we liked each of the books, I said all of those things, and probably more. The entire class knew for a fact that, if I were given the option, I would toss those books in a vault and no child would ever be forced to read them again. Ms. Majerus thought it was hilarious and very nice because I didn’t lie to get on her good side.

            Both of these stories are example of a very fundamental part of my demeanor. I don’t hold back. I’m blunt and honest twelve times out of ten. Usually people like it because it’s funny and refreshing. In a world of liars and people who skirt around the truth, people think it’s nice to talk to me because I’m the opposite.  At least, most of the time they like it.

            There’s a girl in my math class this year that I don’t particularly like. I think she’s stuck up, rude, and condescending. I don’t like being anywhere near her. I don’t like to actually do math, and she forces everyone at her table to keep up with her. I had to sit at her table for a week in a row, and one day I couldn’t do it anymore. She said “let’s stop complaining and do the work” in her most condescending voice, and I gave up. I gave her a look that could have killed someone and said “oh hell no” then I turned around to another table and refused to talk to her for a week while I continued to look at her as if she were spoiled milk.

            These types of situations are typical of me. I’ll get mad and say or do stupid things and then regret what I said or did within ten minutes. That’s egged on by how stubborn I am. Together they lead to mass of problems including, but not limited to saying stupid things, that I know are stupid, and refusing to apologize for them. I run into a lot of problems because I can’t keep anything to myself and my self-control is lacking on a lot of levels. Most of the time people find it funny, but sometimes it’s just seen as rude. 

What have you and your family accomplished together?

Mikella Vermaire

            I have three families. Most people only have two: their mom’s side and their dad’s side, or maybe they split it into immediate family and extended family. I have three: my extended family, my immediate Illinois family, and my Oklahoma family. My extended family is normal. I have cousins, great-grandparents, and aunts and uncles. My Oklahoma family is also mostly typical: a mom, brothers, a grandma, the god-parents, and all the aunts, uncles, and cousins. I also have “aunts” and “uncles” and “cousins” that I’m not actually related to. Due to my mother’s irrationality and irresponsibility, I don’t have a “dad’s side”. Also due to my mother’s irrationality and irresponsibility, I have an immediate Illinois family, which consists of me, my grandma, and my grandpa.

            The story of my immediate Illinois family is long and dramatic, but I’ll make it short. My mom and father-figure went to prison because they liked to sell drugs, so I had to be placed with a family member or DCFS. My biological father wasn’t an option because my mother won’t tell anyone who he is, but I do have family in Illinois, so that’s where they sent me. When the transition was beginning, no one was expecting it to go on this long. We were expecting a year or two. It’s been eleven. The first two years were some of the hardest. I had art therapy and was forced to “talk about my feelings” and I cried at least twice a week. My grandparents purposefully tried to not get too attached, because they didn’t want to be hurt when I left. In the beginning, I wasn’t attached to them because I wanted my mother. Eventually I became exhausted and just wanted the situation to be fixed. I wanted my mom to call, like she promised she would, but she only called a few times a year. It put a strain on my relationship with my grandparents. My relationship with them was carefree on the surface, while very dysfunctional at the core.

            As I got older, that dysfunction was displayed more prominently. Both I and my grandparents were tired of pretending that my mother was going to pull her life together and bring me back. We were tired of pretending we were a perfectly happy family, so things started to change. I was getting older and held on to a lot of anger at the whole situation. It frustrated me that my mother continued making bad decisions and that I was forced to explain to  people why I didn’t live with my mom and why I had a different last name than the people that I lived with. For about three years, these problems tore my grandparents and I apart. They didn’t want me to hate my mother, but I wanted to cut her off and put them into the role of “mom” and “dad”. It was painful. I started to think they didn’t want me anymore, and that affected how I treated them. I distanced myself from them so that I wouldn’t be as hurt when they gave me back to my mother because they couldn’t handle things anymore. They started to think that I didn’t like them and didn’t think of them as parents, causing the whole situation to tumble in on itself. The effects were devastating. I cried all the time, didn’t enjoy things I used to love, and started doing things I never thought I would have done.

            Flash forward two years to current day. We still fight, we still hurt each other’s feelings, and we still have issues. My grandparents still sometimes think that I don’t care about them or am embarrassed if them, and I still sometimes think they want to send me back to Oklahoma. It’s rough, and sometimes our conversations leave very deep scars, but there’s an understanding we’ve reached. My grandparent’s know things about me now that they didn’t know two years ago, and I know things about myself that sometimes make situations easier to comprehend. We both know that there’s love on both ends. Sometimes we take three steps forward and two steps back, but we are still progressing forward. It hurts, but we’re moving, and I think that’s amazing. Especially considering the fact that two years ago I would have been crying on a weekly basis, I’m content for now with that one step forward. 

What objects tell the story of your life?

Mikella Vermaire

            I’ve been alive for seventeen years, one month, and 8 days. That’s quite a bit of time. I think I’ve understood the idea of memories for about nine years, which is a lot of time for me to accumulate and save some of the stuff that I think I’ll want to look back on when I’m old and forgetful. Some of the most significant objects include cards from various family members, a collection of family and school photographs, a stuffed Dora that was continuously in my hands until I turned eight, and tickets to various museums, amusement parks, and movies. I think those are the objects that I immediately think of when I think of objects that are important to me.

Those are the objects that I think will help me remember a lot of fun memories, but I think there are a few specific ones that tell the story of my life. One of the objects that will, tells the story of one of my favorite experiences: going to Indiana Beach with my grandparents when I was nine, where we took a photo at the top of the Ferris Wheel. That picture is still one of my absolute favorites despite the fact that I look kind of gross because I had an allergic reaction to something (we still aren’t sure what) and got a rash that covered my chin.

Pictures like that aren’t the only thing that will be part of the aforementioned collection. I was in Central Illinois Children’s Chorus my second grade year through my freshman year of high school. I remember how nervous I was to try out, and how relieved I was when all I had to do was sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and sing notes after the piano played them for me. After I got in, I remember spending a majority of my Monday evenings there. The songs were fun and pretty, and I made one of the best and most entertaining friends while I was there (we’re still friends to this day). When we did our later, more formal concerts, we had to wear long, pretty black dresses, but my favorite item from CICC was the ugly, red, collared shirt. It had the logo on it, and looks absolutely horrendous on me, but it represents the early years. CICC was a huge part of life for a significant amount of time.

Not all of the significant objects are from before high school. I also have a ticket floating around in my room from the first football game I went to. I remember looking around and seeing people I was friends with in elementary and middle school, and the excitement of seeing all those people. I remember how scared I was to talk to the people I didn’t know and how awestruck I was at how easily everyone was talking to everyone else. I felt happy in a way that I didn’t usually feel at school events. I remember the amazing feeling I had when leaving the game, and how sad I was the next day that I wasn’t able to go to school the next Monday and talk about how fun the game was. I’m still nostalgic when I see that ticket.

I think feelings, like nostalgia, have been really significant in my life. Especially because I think of my life as seasons of high and seasons of low, I think it’s important that I include things that, when looking back on them allow me to feel happy as well as things that possibly make me more somber. The picture of my family is a happy memory, and most of the situation surrounding it was happy as well, other than the allergic reaction part. The t-shirt has a multitude of emotions attached to it: nostalgia, happiness, pride, and gratefulness. As well, the ticket has so many emotions attached to it: nostalgia, happiness, sadness, and exhilaration. I’m made up of the feelings that I associate with each of these objects, and they are associated with stories that are significant in my life, and I think that together they tell the general story of my life’s progression.