1 of 4
2 of 4
3 of 4
4 of 4
Lucy Smith
Lucy Smith just might be the only high-school student in St. Louis who could make Oprah look like a slacker. She may not have opened a girl’s school in Africa, but if you gave her a month, alight bulb and a roll of duct tape, we’re sure she’d sort it out.
The Metro High School sophomore is often teased by her friends for being “a middle-aged woman at heart.” She does have a vocabulary and poise that rival those of most adults—and her thinking ranges far beyond that of the stereotypically self-involved teenager. After all, how many teens do you know who lobby for women’s rights, reproductive health and access to sexual education? “There’s this idea that if teens don’t know about sex, they won’t have sex,” Lucy scoffs. “Well,50 percent of high-schoolers are sexually active. Twenty-five percent of freshman girls are sexually active. It’s there.”
A genuine do-gooder is a beautiful thing. A do-gooder with intelligence, talent and ambition is a jackpot for everyone around her—and Lucy has these qualities in spades. The daughter of two historians, she loves history, archaeology and Latin, and she excels in all three, though the same can’t be said for physics (“Numbers and I don’t really mix”). As a member of the drama club, she’s a regular participant in the school’s musicals (because, of course, she can also sing). Spring sees her playing on the school soccer team—even though her sport of choice is softball. She’s already hoping she’ll be able to parlay her talents on the diamond into a tempting carrot for universities.
Oh, and in her “free time” (we use the term loosely, because we are skeptical of its existence) she logs hours at Craft Alliance, experimenting with textiles and glass blowing.
As her final coup, Lucy’s just a genuinely nice kid—possibly superhuman ... but wonderful nonetheless.
—Katie Pelech
Simon Ficklen
As the son of a librarian and a nonprofit worker, Simon Ficklen comes from a family tradition of quietly eschewing accolades. So it was a bit of a surprise to him when his ceramics teacher, Jess Dewes, recommended him as one of the city’s most extraordinary students.
Indeed, the University City High School junior seems a bit flummoxed when asked to explain why he was singled out: “Um, was it my dashing good looks?” He laughs (which, we suspect, he does a lot) before reluctantly wheeling out his cart full of talents.
In ceramics class, he’s gained a reputation for going above and beyond the parameters of his assignments. Recently his class was asked to make a house. Simon made an entire trailer park, complete with rusted corrugated-tin roofs and wee crushed cans scattered on the lawn. It wasn’t quite what Ms. Dewes expected, but it tickled Simon. “I’ve purposely taken hits on assignments because I want to do what I want to do,” he explains, adding that he sees no benefit in stifling one’s creativity for the sake of a plus sign.
That’s not to say he’s an academic slouch—far from it. He stays, unswerving, on the honors track, and he’s mulling over college and career plans.
“I think I’ll do something art-related,” Simon muses. “I’ve always been interested in architecture. I like to make stuff, see an end result. That’s what keeps me going.”
For now Simon’s looking forward to the summer, when he’ll be attending the Missouri Fine Arts Academy to indulge his other creative outlet—acting. He’s been in every fall play since his freshman year, last starring as Mortimer Brewster in Arsenic and Old Lace. For a kid who has the guts to follow in Cary Grant’s footsteps, this whole college thing promises to be an affair to remember.
—K.P.
Morgan DeBaun
Morgan DeBaun would’ve loved to do an interview in person, we’re sure, but it was spring break. And anyone who’s seen Laguna Beach knows what that means: Cabo and a duffel bag full of bikinis, right?
Wrong. With her father, a pediatrician at Washington University, Morgan opted to spend spring break in Ghana, where she made a point of visiting Elmina Castle and observing the remnants of the slave trade. Not exactly luxurious, but a lot more rewarding than a Jell-O shot could ever be. It wasn’t the first time Morgan has opted to pursue lasting wisdom over immediate gratification.
Her high school years have been characterized by similarly thoughtful decisions, the first of which brought her to Rosati-Kain. As a junior, she’s now spent three full years making the daily jaunt from Chesterfield, but has never regretted her decision. “I knew at Rosati-Kain, being a smart black female would not be an issue. If anything, it would be nurtured and encouraged.”
Morgan has obviously been very well encouraged thus far. She is the president of her school’s Health and Wellness Club. The club is incredibly active in the school community, organizing triweekly exercise outings to the YMCA, posting health bulletins throughout the school and introducing healthier options into the cafeteria.
However, she hasn’t confined her efforts to her home territory. As a member of the Ferring Scholars program, she has spent almost three years collaborating with Washington University School of Medicine faculty in order to design and execute a research project concerning high school alcohol consumption. She’s hoping that, when presented with information about binge drinking and its long-term effects, her peers might lay off a bit.
—K.P.
Brian Chao
Diplomacy is typically a learned skill born of trial and much error. However, for Brian Chao, a junior at Whitfield School, it comes naturally, this ability to make peace with all and achieve results through mediation and negotiation.
Brian was reelected class president this year. One conversation with him, and it’s clear that his classmates made the right choice. He speaks calmly, with a measured cadence and confidence. His appreciation for his school and his classmates is genuine. “There are all different kinds of people at Whitfield,” he explains, “but the basic rule is to be nice and do the right thing. I think all the kids follow that.”
Of course, one of the requisite talents of a president is diplomacy. Another is the ability to effectively multitask, and Brian does not lag here either, as evidenced by his slew of activities both in and out of school. He is, of course, a straight-A student, with a particular affinity for mathematics and physics. He is also one of the yearbook editors and manages the varsity basketball team. And though muscular dystrophy has placed some significant roadblocks in his path, he’s managed to navigate deftly around them—literally, at times. With help from a joystick-equipped Chrysler, Brian learned to drive last summer, gaining the independence all teens crave. And with the help of a personal trainer, he’s developed and adhered to a challenging workout routine for more than a year. “Throughout my life I’ve strived to be a normal kid,” he explains, “and to not make my disability an obstacle in my life. It’s ended up being one of the things that’s helped me to be so successful.”
He spends his summers honing his leadership skills and exploring his interests. Last year, for example, he participated in the Hugh O’Brian Youth Leadership Seminar, and this summer he will serve as one of its counselors. He also participated in an entrepreneurship program run through Saint Louis University, and he’s signed up for the Missouri Youth Leadership Forum this summer.
We’re betting that next year’s class presidency is in the bag.
—K.P.
