I remember looking at a copy of the magazine a couple of weeks after it had been printed and thinking to myself, "Damn, Sami, you did good." That's when it hit me. I had made this project mine. The students who attended the meeting at the beginning of the year liked the magazine, and some of their work was even included in it. But it was not theirs. I had taken a potentially empowering project and turned it into a showcase of what Mr. Miranda could do.
The next year I found myself sitting in a circle with a different group of students. "Last year, I put together a magazine," I said. "This year, I'm handing it over to you. What goes in is your decision. What it looks like is your decision. Even what it's called is your decision. Just remember that you guys are setting a standard for any magazine that comes out after this one; you're leaving your mark on the school."
"Yo, Miranda, so if we decide to put something in, you can't take it out right? asked Arturo, with a let's-see-how-he-answers-this-one grin on his face.
"Even if it has curses, or talks about weed?" Anousorn asked, his hooded eyes opening just a little wider.