Editors’ Note - Issue III

Tho Nguyen | Arlina Yang | Annika Gangopadhay

Dear readers,

After the past year and a half of distance learning, this year has been a year of new beginnings: of school days, football games, and rallies that herald us back to a world untouched by COVID-19. Through it all, the Lighthouse editorial team invites you to explore Issue III: an unflinching expression of joy, grief, and hope. As a collection of works from Amador Valley and Foothill high schools, we hope the Lighthouse reflects the strength, perseverance, and resilience of students in Pleasanton.

While the peak of the pandemic has passed, these times continue to challenge us: mentally, emotionally, and socially. We must not underestimate the power of our words. In selecting works for this issue, we chose to emphasize the human experience and the affirming power of moving forward.

The literary works in this issue draw on all aspects of life, from mundane moments to lasting memories. Carol Xu’s “Dumpling Lies” rolls childhood memories and cultural isolation into a masterful exploration of family and individual, a reflection both tantalizing and bittersweet. Arya Krishna’s “Dancing Girl” captures the mesmerizing intensity of Indian classical dance, showing how cultural roots birthed a dancer’s journey to the stage. On the other hand, Anonymous’ “Legacy Ends Here” finds power in rejection and the acceptance of letting go.

Similarly, the artists in this issue have bled the same emotions and experiences onto the paper—but with paintbrush in lieu of pen. Catherine Gao’s “The Peering Woman” embodies the other end of the looking glass, while Joanna Chu’s “Existential Crisis” examines the intersection of identity and belonging. These works—whether by paintbrush or pen—incite, invite, but most of all, inspire. We hope these works inspire you to look at the world in a new way, just as they inspired us.


We encourage you to take a second look at the works in this issue, to find comfort in the hazy mist of a lighthouse at night. To venture into the unknown, and see clearly once again.