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Stories produced by students participating in our youth media program. Learn more about the intensive, fun and free introductory radio journalism workshops we offer throughout the year. 

Portrait Collage For Web
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  • caption: An empty hallway at Garfield High School in Seattle. On April 6th, Governor Jay Inslee announced that school buildings will be closed for the rest of the academic year in Washington State. In the Mercer Island School District, classes resumed online for most students on April 13th. But for some, especially students with disabilities, that won't be enough.

    'It's a civil rights issue.' Special education in the midst of a pandemic

    As a Mercer Island High School senior, RadioActive's Meghana Kakubal worried that school closures would make it difficult for her to graduate on time. She wasn't worried about finishing her course work, though, because she knew it would continue online. Unfortunately, many students with disabilities won't be able to transition to online courses so easily. Christine Kenyon, a special education teacher at Mercer Island High School, worries that her students’ education will be completely disrupted by the closure.

  • caption: RadioActive Advanced Producers pose for a group photo in front of the RadioActive Youth Media logo on May 5, 2019.

    That’s a wrap! RadioActive’s 2019 podcast season

    In 2019 RadioActive Youth Media worked with about 750 teens and tweens through our Intro, Advanced, and Community workshop programs. These young people produced 23 full-length feature radio stories, along with dozens of short radio stories and podcasts. Young people's voices and perspectives are not heard enough in the media - that's why RadioActive exists. Missed some of this year's incredible feature stories? Give them all a listen here.

  • caption: A wedding ceremony at Eritrean Kidisti Selassie, an Eritrean Catholic church in Seattle. During a wedding, Eritreans from across the United States come to pray together and wish the couple good blessings.

    How faith defines a family — and in my case, divides it

    When my dad immigrated to Seattle from Eritrea, the Eritrean Catholic church became his new community. He goes to mass every Sunday. There, he sings in Tigrinya, his native tongue, and prays to God. As a first generation Eritrean American, I feel the duty to keep our traditions, language and culture alive. But the church has never completely felt like my own. And my brother no longer attends church. How can I protect my community while staying true to myself? And how can my brother and father bridge this gap between them?

  • caption: Ritika Managuli is a 16-year-old, first-generation Indian American caught between two cultures. Her parents would like for her to have an arranged marriage in the future, but she isn't sure.

    My mom wants me to have an arranged marriage. But I'm not sure

    In India, 90% of people have arranged marriages. That might feel odd to those of us who grew up in the United States, like me. I’m a 16-year-old, first-generation Indian American, and I feel caught between two traditions when it comes to love. Will I choose my own path, or go down the traditional arranged marriage route like my mother?

  • caption: Victor Campos (right) at his high school graduation with Reid Sundblad, his middle school teacher and mentor.

    Middle school can be rough. Los Siete guides middle school boys through it

    In middle school, you’re thrown into a completely new environment with hundreds of people you’ve never met before. Your body and brain are changing. You’re starting to learn how to grow up. This transition can be hard on young teens. They can fail in classes and have issues outside of school. However, at Chinook Middle School in Sea-Tac, a group called Los Siete provides guidance and support for middle school boys.

  • caption: Eriberto Saavedra Felix (right) and his teacher and mentor, Reid Sunblad, attend a Seahawks game — even though Eriberto is a 49ers fan.

    Being vulnerable doesn't make me less of a man. Los Siete taught me that

    When I was twelve years old, I was always trying to get away from my family. Soccer was my escape. But when I didn’t have soccer, I was in my room with my door closed. I never talked to my mom. I didn’t have a close relationship with my sister, and I didn’t talk to my dad because he never seemed interested in talking to me. That’s what I thought it meant to be a man: to be silent and not show any weakness. I felt isolated. Then, in 7th grade, I met my physical education teacher, Reid Sundblad.

  • caption: A collage of photos from the lives of Erlinda Conde, Teresa Engrav and Charlotte Engrav, three generations of a Filipino American family in Seattle.

    Hungry for knowledge of my culture, I head to my lola’s kitchen

    We don't go to church for mass in my family. We go to my grandma's kitchen. Food is my tie to my Filipino culture. But I don't know if my connection to food is enough for me to call myself Filipino. I set out to use cooking as a way to dig deeper into my family's story and my own cultural identity.