I quickly jump out of bed and run down the stairs. My grandma is laughing, reaching into the stove and pulling out the magnificent matza brie.

My cousins and brother are already sitting at the table, eager to eat. Grandmarsh, my grandma, gives each of us a big kiss on our foreheads and begins to serve us. My grandfather, Grandjack, walks into the room as well. He kisses us too, and sits down to eat the matza brie.

Grandmarsh continues to serve us, lovingly passing around the sugar and salt. I shovel down the matzo brie, and she reminds me to chew and swallow. I smile at her and continue to wolf it down while my taste buds tingle with excitement.

As we finish the scrumptious meal, Grandmarsh takes out the playing cards from the cabinet and begins to shuffle them. I look on with amusement, and she catches my glance and grins.

She takes my hands and positions them around the cards. “Try to do the bridge, Zachary,” she encourages me.

I attempt to bridge the cards, but instead they all fall out of my hands onto the table.

When my cousins laugh, she explains that I did the best type of shuffle, the 52-card pickup. My heart quickly warms and I chuckle, and she picks the cards back up.

We then play gin rummy together while my cousins play with toy cars with my grandfather.

As always, she never lets me win, even at my young age.

She advises me on the best moves, but her candor is obvious when I make the wrong play. She ruffles my hair after she beats me, and we go into the kitchen.

I help her put the dishes into the dishwasher, and I go play toy cars with my cousins.

When my parents come to pick me up after the long weekend, my grandma gives me a squeeze. She tells me to be a good boy and have fun. Going over her house and sleeping over is always a blast.

Now, when I visit my grandma, we go to Lynbrook Restorative Care. She lies feebly in her hospital bed, and does not even look up when we walk in.

“Hi, Mom,” my mom exclaims. “Your grandchildren are here to see you!”

Still, she barely acknowledges our presence; her once radiant smile exudes little light.

My grandma has been diagnosed with a form of Parkinson’s disease called multi-system atrophy, where all her systems fail, and there is no therapy to repair her.

Daily, my grandfather drives to the home and stays with my grandma.

Today is their 57th wedding anniversary, and we have a small party.

I help wheel my grandma outside to the patio at the nursing home, where my family and a few of my cousins are waiting. My grandma’s smile is now a little wider, when she sees old friends from England that came to see her. When she realizes we are having a party for her, she seems even happier to see us all. My sister and I help my grandfather feed my grandma, and we keep her company. With her condition, she tires easily, and she becomes content to watch the conversations and soak in the party. When it is time to leave, I give her a kiss on the forehead, and I tell her to be good to Grandjack and I will try to come back soon.

I always find it tough to see my grandma in this condition.

A year ago, she was able to walk around and play cards and make matza brie. Now, we realize she will probably never see her house ever again.

I do not relish my new role as a caretaker.

After so many years of Grandmarsh taking care of me, tucking me in at sleepovers, telling me great stories, or playing gin rummy, I know it’s now my turn to take care of her.

It’s horrible to see her in such a tough position, and I am disheartened to know our roles have been so quickly reversed.

Zac Brower, 17, attends Livingston High School and is a member of Nu’s teen board.

What is it about this savage sport that is so transfixing? The Super Bowl had 111 million viewers this year, a new record.

Is it the fact that in football, flab is confused as muscle and an obese body is an athletic physique?

Is it the fact that the risk of paralysis and death perpetually hang over those playing the game, like a deadly pendulum?

Is it the violence, the thrill?

Let’s face it: football is pointless.

The risks, death by a tackle, or a coronary attack outweigh the single benefit — the entertainment of millions of fans.

Sometimes I watch football with my father. You know how the camera often shows close-up footage of the players during their breaks? The stomachs that jiggle like Jell-O, the tight pants accentuating the thigh flab. Forget high-definition televisions, it makes me want to vomit when it’s pixilated!

I ask my father if he notices how overweight some of these players are. Sure, once in a while you get that lean quarterback and wide receiver, but the linebackers — they’re mammoth.

My father replies that it’s all muscle; they need the mass. Seriously? I know the difference between flab and muscle. These players are carrying waterbeds where stomachs, or abs, should be.

Football can cause more injuries than other sports. Football is linked to dislocations, fractures, and concussions in a routine game, and paralysis in an intense game.

Then there are the medical studies linking football and its related conditions to Alzheimer’s, dementia, ALS, and early death. Think back to the headlines:

An NFL player suing the league for a career-ending helmet-to-helmet hit.

A high school player in upstate New York, dead from a head injury.

The Daily Beast columnist, Buzz Bissinger, says that serious injuries, either caused by obesity or injuries during the game, are “occupational hazards.”

According to neuropathologist Brian E. Moore, “Fans are willing to spend a lot of money to see men slam into each others’ heads on the field.”

Football venerates violence. Young boys watch these players glorify it and then conjure up aspirations of one day growing up to earn glory and money giving a man a broken bone or two. Bissinger says, “This is the way fans want football players to play.”

Why?

Every year, thousands of boys walk onto the field, their teeth primed to be loosened, their bodies prepared to be beaten to pulps.

Football excuses what any animal could do, and allows, even encourages, young children to pay more attention to the field than to the classroom and the health of the body.

We encourage heaviness, fatalities, and ferocity, so as to achieve that…rush, that sick sense of pleasure in watching men collide as if they were trains.

But we can’t encourage it any longer. The crippling injuries and deaths are piling up. The number of parents having to watch their sons lose the ability to walk is ascending.

Enough is enough.

The cost is too high. Be that vote or the bodies of our children, the minds of our children, and the lives of our children will continue to slip away as we, supposedly complex and refined human beings, continue to support a barbarian sport.

Game over.

Amanda Glatt, 14, attends Livingston High School and is a member of Nu’s teen board.

It is nearly impossible to perform such an infamous story (with such a horrific ending) without seeming melodramatic, tragic, and altogether depressing. As a team, we decided that our audience could not sit in a state of misery for an hour and a half.

The play’s director, Mr. Jacoby, told the cast on the first day of rehearsal: this is a sad show; we do not need to accentuate that even further. So on our first read-through the actors struggled, denying their theatrical tendencies, and worked to seem realistic and hopeful.

The truth is, though death and destruction are an underlying theme, the show is about people and characters. The audience watches these families merge as they live in a cramped annex for years, never feeling the sunlight or taking a step outside. This sense of discomfort led to our set.

In order to emphasize the isolation and discomfort of the annex, our production is in the round. For those of you who aren’t privy to theater lingo, this means that the stage is in the center with the audience surrounding it entirely.

Adding this dimension to the script brings the audience closer to understanding the annex and, in turn, the characters themselves. By keeping the cast isolated and stuck on the enclosed stage, their confinement is highlighted.

Our goal was to create a sense of community among the audience members, by seating them on long benches instead of standard theater chairs. Additionally, we hoped to perform the play without intermission, for Anne never had a respite from her imprisonment in the annex.

By working on this show so exhaustively, I’ve started to question some of my own beliefs.

A specific dialogue always stands out to me. Peter, Anne’s love interest, says that once he’s freed he will be sure that no one knows that he is Jewish. Anne, shocked, claims that she would never turn her back on her religion. This short vignette spawns two questions: Would I, like Peter, abandon my religious beliefs in the face of adversity? Does religion form my identity?

I’m unsure how to answer these questions. As a teenager, I cannot begin to define my identity. I do not know yet who I am or who I will be.

I am sure of some things, and completely uncertain of others.

I cannot yet discern religion’s importance in my life. I am sure, though, that if religion were as essential to me as it was to Anne, I would not desert it.

If my fundamental qualities were not of the utmost importance to me, then what would be the point? I am willing to fight for what I believe in and to fight for my right to an identity.

The Diary of Anne Frank is a play of hope. Not in the lives of these lost souls, for we all know how the tragedy concludes, but hope in the eyes of the characters.

The play’s final few scenes occur just after the Allied invasion of Europe, when salvation is so close that the characters and the audience can taste it.

By analyzing and working on this poignant script, I’ve learned to look at such a heartbreaking story and to find the good in it.

Though her life was cut short by a heinous, villainous, unforgivable chain of crimes, Anne Frank led a joyous life in her annex and wrote about it expressively in a diary that the world shares.

Her words live on as a constant reminder of the Holocaust and of her iridescent spirit. I am overjoyed to be working on this show and to help bring audience members into Anne’s world.

Rachel DeChiara, 17, attends Newark Academy and is a member of Nu’s teen board.

Here come the changes.

First: Rosh Hashana meal. My family always serves a delicious meal with apples and honey (of course), homemade applesauce, chicken, brisket, turkey, and my favorite, matza ball soup.

It was odd sitting at my dining room table eating my most beloved food without my sister enjoying it next to me.

It was strange not laughing and joking with her during dinner and it was certainly different realizing for the first time for Rosh Hashana dinner, I was the only child there.

Ready for more changes?

Imagine me, in my specially picked out Rosh Hashana dress for shul, standing there, with my father and mother by my side, but lacking a sister or brother to accompany me. Actually, imagine that for both days of Rosh Hashana services.

It was a little sad not being able to stand next to my sister and enjoy the holiday with her.

Now let’s look a week further to Yom Kippur.

Every Yom Kippur my family and friends consume a plentiful meal (there are a lot of large meals) before the start of the fast. During this meal, once again, my sister wasn’t there with me to stuff down food before it was too late!

Not until the fast began did I realize that I am the only child fasting at home this holiday!

Who will keep me distracted during the day, who will keep me entertained, and who will be by my side being as hungry as ever, just like me?

I did have a good fast and pleasant holidays, but I did notice the absence of my sister, especially during these special events. Though I will now have many experiences without my siblings, I think I should take advantage of the opportunities and view things in a light I have never considered or learn something I have not necessarily taken a great interest in.

My new situations will lead to new discoveries, new knowledge, and new perspectives. A great way to start out the Jewish New Year!

Gabrielle Beacken, 16, attends Randolph High School and is a member of Nu’s teen board.

I’ve always wanted to go to a big division I college with thousands of sports-frenzied people, but now I wonder if maybe going to a smaller school may be a better option.

I had always pictured myself attending a school where the climate was always warm and the sun was always shining. But now I’ve grown to think that maybe colder weather would better suit me.

I used to envision myself attending a school close to my family so I would always have the opportunity to visit them, but now I’m starting to look at colleges that are further away from my hometown so I can start my own life and become my own person.

Living away from my family will give me the chance to experience a new lifestyle with new people. Going through the college application process has taught me that what I had thought I wanted in a college may not actually be what is right for me. In order to find the college that fits best one must first visit an array of schools and at each of these college visits, get a real feel for what the school is actually like. In doing so, one can really get the full experience of what that school is like and then determine which one best fits one’s needs.

Making a final decision does not always come easy and can very often be a challenging process that requires deliberation. However, I would definitely advise all students who are going through this process to really have an open mind and not rush to make their decision.

Where one attends college can affect one’s entire future, so it is really important that students take the time to really look at all their options.

As I am currently going through the college process I still find myself struggling to figure out which school is the perfect fit for me. All I know is that I will continue my search and consider all possible options before making my final decision.

Stephanie Ingber, 17, attends Watchung Regional High School and is a member of Nu’s teen board.

Frequently I open my used assignment notebook to find the myriad assignments that are due that week. Highlighted reminders and capital letters remind me of important deadlines but it all just seems to mush together and the fear of tackling it becomes the dominant thought and stress in my mind.

I often distract myself with the computer or television until late at night when I finally decide to make a dent in my work. It is so easy for me to just become overwhelmed and not do anything at all.

However, all the work begins to pile on, getting bigger and bigger.

“Never push off to tomorrow what you can do today” is one of my father’s famous mantras.

This lesson has constantly reverberated in my head throughout my high school career. Many extracurricular activities, advanced placement courses, and honors classes have made this year extremely rigorous.

It feels impossible but I constantly remind myself to take one step at a time and I always manage to come out with my work complete.

When I am overwhelmed I simply look at my first assignment and dive right in. I place my phone and all my technology in another room so I am left alone with my books; I am isolated and forced to face the assignment at hand.

Nat, a senior at Kushner Yeshiva High School, makes lists of his work so he can “prioritize what assignments are more important and must be done first.” Afterward, he does the assignments which are not as immediate.

There are so many strategies that a senior can take on to lighten the heavy workload and become a successful student who never hands work in late or incomplete.

Although senior year is extremely stressful and leaves us gasping for air, there is so much to look forward to.

All we need is that extra push to get through the stressful applications and classes. The work we put in now will all be worth it later on.

Even though it often feels like there is no possible way to complete the many assignments you have, remember to take one test, deadline, and day at a time, and success will surely follow!

Good luck!

Yael Shapiro, 17, attends Rae Kushner Yeshiva High School and is a member of Nu’s teen board.

Eliana Glatt, 17, attends Livingston High School and is a member of Nu’s teen board.

Mack Brower, 14, attends Heritage Middle School.