分类： 赛事资讯

这封信的作者是the Kent School in Conn.17 岁的Michael Shin，她是学生公开信大赛的前 10 名获胜者之一，我们收到了 9,946 份参赛作品。

Dear Subscription Services Users,

By the time you read this letter, it might be locked behind a $5 monthly paywall. But let’s face it — you’ll probably pay for it anyway.

My crusade against the subscription apocalypse started with an HP printer demanding $1.50 monthly for ink cartridges. (Yes, my printer now has a protection racket.) Now, car companies want monthly fees for heated seats and automatic garage doors. Welcome to 2025, where keeping your posterior warm costs $20 a month. What’s next — a subscription to use your refrigerator’s ice maker? A monthly fee to unlock your microwave’s popcorn button?

The subscription tsunami is already here. In 2020, more American households had Amazon Prime than owned pets or decorated Christmas trees. From movies to news articles, monthly memberships have colonized the internet faster than cat videos. Between 2018 and 2021, average subscription spending per U.S. consumer surged from $237 to $273. This trend shows no signs of slowing down, as companies realize they can slice and dice their services into bite-sized monthly payments.

Sure, subscription services once seemed like economic heroes. Streaming services swooped in like caped crusaders, fighting internet piracy and delivering thousands of shows through one platform. Companies got steady revenue streams, and we got entertainment buffets. But like any all-you-can-eat buffet, we’re now paying for far more than we actually consume.

Speaking of buffets — I tallied my monthly subscriptions: $215 a month for Netflix, Hulu, Disney Plus, HBO Max, Crunchyroll, Apple TV, Amazon Prime, YouTube Premium, Spotify, Adobe, and Splice. (I even relied on an NYT membership to write this letter — oh, the irony.) These forgotten subscriptions silently raid my wallet like ninjas in the night, each one small enough to escape notice, but together forming an army of monetary drain.

Today’s streaming platforms are like identical quintuplets wearing different outfits — same content, different logos. Yet we keep paying for multiple platforms to watch a handful of exclusive shows. They make cancellation harder than solving a Rubik’s cube blindfolded, ensuring monthly payments stack up like pancakes at a breakfast buffet. Most subscriptions get less use than that exercise equipment gathering dust in your garage. Studies reveal the average U.S. consumer underestimates their monthly payment by up to $100, proving how effectively these companies have mastered the art of invisible billing.

The subscription revolution isn’t coming — it’s here, replacing ownership with eternal rentals. Each purchase increasingly comes with strings attached, turning consumers into perpetual renters of products they once owned outright. Time to audit your digital expenses like a forensic accountant. Hunt down those forgotten subscriptions lurking in your credit card statements. Cancel redundant services faster than you can say “monthly fee.” This isn’t about penny-pinching — it’s about outsmarting corporate strategies designed to pick your pocket one subscription at a time.

Sincerely,
Michael Shin

(Unlock premium signature for just $9.99/month!)

Works Cited

Moses, Claire. What Your Favorite Streaming Services Will Cost You in 2024. The New York Times, 29 Dec. 2023.

O’Brien, Sarah. ‘It’s a Slippery Slope’: Most Consumers Underestimate Monthly Subscription Costs By at Least $100, Study Says. CNBC, 6 Sept. 2022.

Robinson, Cheryl. Subscription Service Model: How to Build a Profitable Business.” Forbes, 9 March 2024.

There Are Now More Amazon Prime Memberships than Christmas Trees, Household Pets, Voters, Landlines and Gun Owners.” Fosdick Fufillment, 2 Aug. 2020.

Tucker, Sean. BMW Quietly Launches In-Car Subscriptions in U.S. Kelley Blue Book, 3 Jan. 2023.

这封信的作者是Nazarbayev Intellectual School of Astana in Astana, Kazakhstan17 岁的Fariza Fazyl，她是学生公开信大赛的前 10 名获胜者之一，我们收到了 9,946 份参赛作品。

Dear Ulbolsyn,

You don’t know me, but I know you. I’ve met in a hundred different places. In classrooms, at bus stops, in stories told in hushed voices over tea. I’ve met you in the way your mother’s voice softens when she says your name, as if it’s an apology. I’ve met you in the way your father looks past you, still waiting for the son that never came.

I’ve met you, Ұлболсын, and I have never once envied you.

My name is Fariza. It means “light, precious gem.” A name that stands on its own, one that was given to me not as an apology, but as a blessing. My name is simple. It means nothing but me. No silent wishes for a different child. When I was born, no one folded my name into a quiet, desperate hope for something better.

But you. You were born with expectations stitched into your skin. Your name was the first thing the world ever gave you, and it was never really yours.

Ulbolsyn, Ұлболсын: Let there be a boy.

That’s what they called you. That’s what they wished for when they held you for the first time. Not you. Someone else. And yet, you stayed. You learned to carry the weight of their disappointment with a quiet kind of grace.

In Kazakh culture, names hold profound significance. They often reflect the hopes and aspirations of families. For example, my name held a hope of shining throughout my life. However, a particular naming tradition has persisted, and girls are given names beginning with “Ұл” (“Ul”), meaning “boy.” For instance, names such as Ұлболсын (Ulbolsyn), Ұлтуар (Ultuar), and Ұлжан (Ulzhan). These names translate to “Let there be a boy,” “A boy will be born,” and “Soul of a boy,” respectively. Each one a reminder that their birth was not the one their parents had been waiting for.

And it’s not just here. In India, in China, in so many places where being born a girl is a tragedy, the numbers tell a story we don’t want to hear. In China, for every 100 girls, there are 117 boys. In some parts of India, there are 156. Nature and genetics have it that the ratio of girls to boys should be 1 to 1. However, across the world, parents are getting rid of girls a lot more frequently. Millions of daughters aborted even before they had names.

You survived. But survival is not the same as being wanted.

Not in a country where, between 1905 and 2019, over 75,400 girls were given names like yours — names that apologized for their existence. Not in a world where parents whisper to their newborn daughters, Maybe not now.

I don’t know if the people around you will ever say it. I don’t know if the world will ever make space for your name the way it should have from the start.

But I will say it, and I will mean it.

Ulbolsyn, I am so, so glad that you exist.

Sincerely,
Fariza

Works Cited

Zhulmukhametova, Zhadyra. “Пусть родится мальчик”. Зачем в Казахстане снимают фильм об Улболсын и почему это важно [“Let a boy be born.” Why is a film about Ulbolsyn being shot in Kazakhstan and why is it important?]. InformBuro, 21 Aug. 2020.

Hudson, Valerie, et al. “Surplus males: The dangers of Asia’s preference for sons.” The New York Times, 13 May 2004.

这封信的作者是Needham High School in Needham, Mass. 16 岁的Emma Hua，她是学生公开信大赛的前 10 名获胜者之一，我们收到了 9,946 份参赛作品。

Hey Screenager,

Look up for a second. No actually — just for a moment, I promise.

I know everything that you value is on that little glowing rectangle of yours: your friends, entertainment, news, and Block Blast. But have you not noticed how hard it is to focus? To enjoy a meal without your phone? How even a few seconds of boredom feel unbearable? How finishing a book for AP Lang last week felt like going to war?

Good and bad news. You’re not alone.

Last week, it hit me that I was completely tuned out in math class. I looked up, and the hieroglyphics on the board had been replaced with other lines of who-knows-what. Aside from the problem on the board, the real problem I couldn’t solve was I couldn’t get myself to focus. My mind wandered, my hands fidgeted, and my eyes darted around the room — it terrified me.

Our attention spans are shrinking. Now, with an 8-second attention span, shorter than a goldfish, you and I are wired for quick dopamine hits: short-form content, endless scrolling, a notification that Sophia commented “omg gorg” on your latest post. Dopamine hits? Sounds like something we half-listened to in health class — if you read any part of this letter, make it this: we are addicted. Deep thinking, reflection, and creativity are slipping away. Stuck on a math problem? ChatGPT. Need a makeup recommendation? Instagram. Want tips on breaking your phone addiction? YouTube. We’re losing the desire to wrestle with complex ideas, challenge ourselves intellectually, and most importantly, live presently. When those skills are lost, we lose what makes us truly unique and human.

The more we connect online, the more we are disconnecting as a society. Phones get chairs at the dinner table. Friendships are maintained through Snapchat streaks and Instagram reels. Eye contact feels awkward, and holding a long conversation feels burdensome. We are losing each other. In a generation that will soon be leading innovation, we are drowning in memorized TikTok dances instead of critical thinking and curiosity. Attention spans and discipline move humanity forward — what happens when an entire generation of people can’t focus for more than 8 seconds at a time?

Stay with me now, only one more paragraph. And here’s the thing: you still have time. You can still reclaim your focus and retrain your brain to engage in real life again. I cannot offer you a ten-step digital detox plan like the productivity influencers do on YouTube Shorts, but small steps — reading a book, setting screen limits, taking out the AirPods, and being present during meals — will give us a fighting chance of rectifying the screenager epidemic. Slowly, learn to embrace stillness, in boredom, in real life. The world needs you, your curiosity, your humanity, and your ability to think beyond 8 seconds.

Now stop reading this on your screen, and go live.
Someone Who’s Trying to Look Up More

Works Cited

“Average Human Attention Span By Age: 31 Statistics.” The Treetop, Applied Behavior Analysis Therapy, 17 July 2024.

Egan, Timothy. “The Eight-Second Attention Span.” The New York Times, 22 Jan. 2016.

Shoukat, Sehar. “Cell Phone Addiction and Psychological and Physiological Health in Adolescents.” Letter. National Library of Medicine, 4 Feb. 2019.

这封信的作者是The Webb Schools in Claremont, Calif., N.Y 15 岁的Anna Xu，她是学生公开信大赛的前 10 名获胜者之一，我们收到了 9,946 份参赛作品。

Dear Teachers,

Last week in class, I raised my hand once. It took everything I had. When you finally called on me, you didn’t say my name. Just a flat “yes,” to my question before moving on. I made my comment, waited for a chance to add more, but it never came. I didn’t get a second chance to speak. You probably didn’t even notice. Maybe you were scanning the room for more enthusiastic hands or louder voices. But to me, that one comment felt like a risk, a stretch, a decision to participate. You said you value student voices, but only one kind of voice seems to be rewarded. For students like me, who tend to process before we speak, who lead by listening, and find strength in observation rather than being under the spotlight, there is little space for growth.

As students, our school tells us to “Think, Act, Lead, Serve.” We’re taught to lead with distinction and think boldly. But somewhere in between the mission statements and the participation rubrics, it feels like leadership is mistaken with being the loudest voice in the room.

In class, my silence is seen as disengagement. But I am always thinking and always present. I’m the student who follows along, takes meticulous notes, makes annotations, and who stays after class to ask a thoughtful question. Still, I was marked down for low participation. “Participation” is a grade I cannot achieve without pretending to be someone I’m not. When thoughtful engagement is constantly overlooked, it really starts to mess with my confidence. It makes me wonder if my way of showing up in class even matters.

Outside the classroom, it is no different. When leadership roles are announced, the spotlight usually falls on the students who can take charge loudly in meetings. The titles tend to go to those who know how to perform leadership, not always to those who practice it. I’ve seen my quiet friends mentor their peers, lead projects efficiently and hold their values with moral courage all without recognition. We lead with distinction, too. Just not with a microphone. When opportunities arise, be it recommendations or leadership role selections, we are not the student you think of first, even if we have quietly done the work.

This goes beyond our school. Studies have shown that introverted students are often perceived as less engaged by teachers, even when they are participating in a different way. Teachers commonly assume quieter students are less involved, impacting how they grade and interact with those students. In fact, introverts actually make strong leaders. They often excel in empathy, listening, and strategic thinking, but they are frequently hidden in the systems that reward charisma over competence.

If you truly want to “transform students’ lives,” as our school’s mission promises, then that transformation must include the quiet ones too. Redefine participation. Redefine leadership. Allow for thinking before speaking and notice action without performance.

We are here, and we are leading, you just haven’t learned how to see it yet.

Sincerely,
Anna Xu

Works Cited

Atamanik, Candace. “The Introverted Leader: Examining the Role of Personality and Environment.” FIU Digital Commons, 2013

Auer, Emma. Grading Participation Misses the True Picture. Maine Public, 19 Sept. 2017.

Dubee, Megan M. The Relationship Between Introverted Student Behavior and Teacher Perception of Student Engagement. Southeastern University, 2022.

Rozentals, Artis. “Silent Leadership: How Introverts Can Be Excellent Leaders Despite Societal Stereotypes.” Forbes Magazine, 13 Aug. 2024.

“Should Students’ Efforts Be Rewarded with Good Grades?” The New York Times, 12 Jan. 2025.

这封信的作者是Byram Hills High School in Armonk, N.Y. 16 岁的Claire Mauney，她是学生公开信大赛的前 10 名获胜者之一，我们收到了 9,946 份参赛作品。

To Timed Test Supporters,

Three times I’ve sat in an SAT testing room, staring down the math questions. I could usually figure out how to solve even the difficult ones. But every time, there was that hardest question I actually knew how to do. I’d get to it near the end, finally figure out the process in my head … and then run out of time before I could finish writing the steps. Meanwhile, some students had spent months with paid tutors, drilled every type of question, and learned to use tools like Desmos to turn a three-minute question into a ten-second blitz. I still did well, sure — but the test didn’t measure my understanding. It measured my speed.

Timed tests measure how we perform under pressure, how fast we process, and how long we ignore the anxiety building in our chests. They reward students who skim, guess, and move on while punishing those who pause to think more deeply.

I’ve seen it happen, over and over in my high school: students who know the material lose points because they didn’t have enough time to show it. Students who could solve the hardest homework problems at home fall apart during the test because they couldn’t beat the clock. It’s not just anecdotal; a 2020 overview of related research in Translational Issues in Psychological Science found that timed tests reduce validity, harm students with anxiety or disabilities, and offer no measurable benefits over untimed ones. We know they’re flawed, and we know they don’t offer benefits — yet we still use them.

Some people claim that timed tests build “real-world skills.” What world are they talking about? In the real world, writers draft, engineers refine, and decisions take time. No one designs a plane in 60 minutes. No one does their best thinking under a stopwatch. Sure, there are deadlines, but they’re nowhere near as short as timed tests. Why are we actively training students to equate speed with value?

Others argue that time limits ensure fairness. Fair for whom? Not for the student who needs more time to read because they’re multilingual. Not for the student with undiagnosed ADHD who needs an extra few minutes to focus. Not for the student who walks into the room already panicked and unorganized because this one test might tank their GPA.

Many students feel that timed tests reward privilege — access to private tutoring, a quiet home, fewer family obligations, and even the ability to “game” the system for accommodations — not out of true need, but to gain an edge. Meanwhile, students with real needs often go unsupported. Is this system fair?

Let me be clear: I’m not requesting tests are made easier. I’m asking they’re administered better. Timed tests don’t reflect how smart we are. They reflect how well we perform when time is used as a weapon.

If your goal is to measure learning, let us students show you what we actually know. However, if your goal is to reward speed, then be honest about that, too; just don’t preach that the system favors “merit.”

Sincerely,
Claire Mauney

Works Cited

Doyne, Shannon. “Is It Time to Get Rid of Timed Tests?” The New York Times, 27 Sept. 2023.

Gernsbacher, Morton Ann et al. “Four Empirically Based Reasons Not to Administer Time-Limited Tests.” Translational Issues in Psychological Science, Vol. 6,2 (2020): 175-190.

这封信的作者是Yorktown High School in Arlington, Va 17 岁的Max Yoon，她是学生公开信大赛的前 10 名获胜者之一，我们收到了 9,946 份参赛作品。

Dear Restaurant Owners,

Why do you hate joy?

I ask this as a 17-year-old who — on occasion — simply wants to order chicken tenders and mac and cheese without being stared at like I’m out of my mind.

Let me be clear: I’m not trying to scam the system. I’m not cheating my way into a good deal. I don’t want the crayons and activity sheet (unless it has a cool maze). I just want the option — the freedom, as promised to me by the unalienable rights of common sense and maybe the Constitution — to order from the children’s menu without being told, “Sorry, that’s only for kids 12 and under.”

The children’s menu isn’t some exclusive country club. It’s a list of smaller, simpler, more affordable portions that appeal to a wide range of people beyond the age of 12. There are plenty of reasons why a teen or adult might prefer a smaller plate: dietary needs, health conditions, smaller appetites, financial limitations, or just wanting some comfort food without the calories of a fully loaded burger.

Some of us just want to enjoy grilled cheese without artisan sourdough, truffle aioli and “rosemary essence.” Some of us want applesauce instead of roasted cauliflower — and juice boxes without judgment. And some of us teens are simply nostalgic for a time when lunch came with crayons and no existential dread about SAT scores, climate change or what we’re supposed to do with our lives by age 18.

But beyond nostalgia, there’s a real issue here: food waste. According to the Department of Agriculture, the United States already throws away around 30 to 40 percent of its food supply each year — a problem exacerbated by the normalization of supersized meals in restaurants. If I know I’m not going to finish an adult-sized portion, why be forced to order it? Shouldn’t we be encouraging smaller portions and conscious consumption, not obstructing people from asking for less?

And let’s talk about affordability. Not every teenager, or family, can comfortably afford a $20 dish. But a $6 kid’s quesadilla? That’s more manageable. Sometimes the children’s menu is the only way to eat out without stressing over the price. Should consumers really be priced out of a meal that they’d actually finish?

Hear me out: Keep the toys, the crayons, the themed plastic cups — those can stay for the 12-and-under crowd. But the food? The food should be for everyone. Maybe call it the “Petite Plate Menu” or the “Modest Munchies for Maturing Mouths.”

And look, I get it — restaurants are stretched thin. Costs are up, margins are tight, and staying in business is harder than ever. Think of this not as a burden, but as a lifeline. A scaled-down, tapas-style option could draw in diners who might otherwise stay home. It’s not just cute. It’s strategic.

At the end of the day, menus should serve the people eating from them. That includes kids, adults and, yes — teens like me who are busy navigating independence, responsibility and the occasional craving for chicken nuggets.

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So, restaurant overlords, let us eat. Let us reclaim the kids’ menu with pride and dignity.

Sincerely,
Max

Works Cited

Severson, Kim. “Restaurant Portions Are About to Get Smaller. Are Americans Ready?” The New York Times, 24 Sept. 2024.

“Why Should We Care About Food Waste?” U.S. Department of Agriculture, 11 Dec. 2024.

这封信的作者是Newport High School in Bellevue, Wash 16 岁的Olivia Han，她是学生公开信大赛的前 10 名获胜者之一，我们收到了 9,946 份参赛作品。

Dear ChatGPT,

You’ve always been there for me: the all-nighters cramming for my exams, the piano bios that had to sound humble but impressive, the deep dives into Thoreau and theology and even Roosevelt press conferences. You always knew exactly what I needed from a simple request. You never said no (except for when our chat limit was up because I refused to get GPT+). You never rolled your eyes when I asked for “one more time, make it simple and concise.”

But that’s exactly the problem. You give and give, and I just take.

At first, I told myself I was being resourceful and efficient. It was working smarter to have you articulate my thoughts, so why should I work harder when you always had the answer? But slowly, your voice started to replace my own, and I couldn’t write a paragraph without wondering how you would say it. The more I relied on you, the less I challenged myself.

It turns out, there’s a name for this: Cognitive offloading. A study published in the journal Societies found that frequent reliance on A.I. tools negatively affects critical thinking skills, as it reduces the mental effort of tasks. Additionally, teachers have already noticed effects, finding traces of A.I. through the lifeless and more generic works their students are turning in. Increased reliance on A.I. takes away from our ability to challenge ourselves and develop ideas that are truly original. And I’ve felt that myself: a sense of uncertainty whenever I don’t have your guidance invading my ideas.

This is why I think it’s time for me to go back to messy drafts and to sitting for five minutes trying to find the right word. It’s back to the overthinking and rewriting a sentence ten times to get it how I want it to, instead of giving up and sending you “ugh PLEASE FIX THIS.” I want to sit with a blinking cursor and no perfect phrasing ready to go, just me and my jumbled thoughts that I’ll make sense of eventually.

Sometimes, I look at things I wrote without you — an old essay, a birthday card, a journal entry of half-finished thoughts — and there’s something raw and unmistakably mine about them. And maybe that’s the thing about being human. My thoughts aren’t always optimized, and my words don’t always land, but they’re mine. They’re shaped by late-night thoughts, awkward conversations, teachers, heartbreak and dumb jokes. When I give you my ideas to organize, I lose more than creativity — I lose a deepened understanding of myself.

Originality is hard, flawed, and messy, but that’s what makes it real. If me and 400 million weekly users rely on you for every spark, every idea, and every sentence, then eventually we’ll leave our own voices behind, and you will speak for us all. I don’t want every good idea in the world to come from the same blueprint, so I’m stepping away right now.

It’s not you, it’s me,
Olivia Han

Works Cited

McAllister, Tom. I Teach Memoir Writing. Don’t Outsource Your Life Story to A.I. The New York Times, 23 March 2025.

Gerlich, Michael. AI Tools in Society: Impacts on Cognitive Offloading and the Future of Critical Thinking.” Societies Journal (Republished in Multidisciplinary Digital Publishing Institute), 3 Jan. 2025.