Part 3 · Long text

Starting again in a new country

Lucía, 17, describes moving from Spain to Canada.

When I was fourteen, my mum got a job in Canada and our family moved from Spain to Toronto. I didn't want to go. I had lived in the same town all my life, and I couldn't imagine leaving my friends. I spent most of the flight trying not to cry.

The first month at my new school was difficult. My English was quite good, because I'd had lessons since I was six, but everyone spoke so fast that I often couldn't follow the conversation. I was too shy to ask people to repeat things, so I usually just smiled and nodded. I think some of my classmates thought I was unfriendly.

Things changed when my geography teacher, Mr Brooks, asked me to give a short talk to the class about my home town. I was terrified, but I prepared for days, and I brought photos and some sweets that my grandmother had sent. When I finished, lots of people came up to ask me questions. One girl, Hana, had moved from Japan two years earlier, and she understood exactly how I felt. We've been best friends ever since.

The weather was another shock. Nobody had warned me that the temperature in Toronto can fall to minus twenty in winter. My first pair of boots were completely useless, and my feet were freezing for weeks until my mum bought me proper ones.

Now, three years later, I feel at home here. I still miss my friends in Spain, and I video-call them every Sunday, but I've learnt that you can have more than one place where you belong. Moving was the hardest thing I've ever done, but it's also made me braver. These days, I'm the one who looks after new students when they arrive.

A month without a phone

Student Elena Ruiz describes an unexpected experiment.

When my phone broke last spring, I had two choices: spend money I didn't have on a new one, or wait a month until my birthday, when my parents had promised to buy me one as a present. I chose to wait. I told myself it would be an interesting experiment, though secretly I was terrified.

The first few days were the worst. I kept reaching into my pocket for a phone that wasn't there, and I had no idea what time it was – I hadn't worn a watch for years. I also felt left out. My friends organise everything through group chats, so I missed a trip to the cinema because nobody remembered to tell me about it.

By the second week, though, things started to change. I bought a cheap watch from a market and started to notice how much time I had. Without a screen to look at, the bus journey to college became my reading time, and I finished three novels in a fortnight – more than I'd read in the whole of the previous year.

I also had to get organised in old-fashioned ways. I wrote my timetable on a piece of card and kept it in my bag, and I arranged to meet friends at a fixed time and place. Once, I waited forty minutes outside a café for my friend Jess before realising I'd gone to the wrong one. We laughed about it afterwards, but at the time I was furious with myself.

What surprised me most was how much better I slept. I used to look at my screen in bed until midnight. Without it, I was asleep by eleven and woke up feeling far more awake.

When my birthday came, I was happy to get my new phone, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't use it at all that evening. But I've kept some of my new habits. The phone stays in the kitchen at night, and I still read on the bus. I don't think I could live without a phone completely, but I don't need it as much as I thought.

My summer at an animal rescue centre

Tom Hughes, 17, writes about his summer job.

Last summer, I spent six weeks volunteering at a rescue centre for dogs and cats about twenty minutes from my home. I'd always loved animals, but if I'm honest, the main reason I applied was that my older sister had done it two years before and couldn't stop talking about it. I wanted to see if it was really as good as she said.

On my first morning, I was a bit disappointed. I'd imagined I would spend my days playing with puppies, but instead I was given a bucket and a brush and told to clean out the dogs' sleeping areas. The manager, Sue, explained that every new volunteer starts this way. 'If you can't do the dirty jobs, you won't last,' she said. She was right – two of the other new volunteers left before the end of the first week.

After a while, I was allowed to walk the dogs, which quickly became my favourite part of the day. Some of them had been badly treated before they came to the centre, and they were nervous of people. One, a big grey dog called Bruno, wouldn't even come out of his kennel at first. I sat outside it every afternoon and read a book, without trying to touch him. On the tenth day, he walked over and put his head on my knee. I don't think I've ever felt so proud.

The hardest part was saying goodbye when animals went to new homes. I knew that was the whole point of the centre, but I still felt sad when Bruno left with a family. Sue told me that the day you stop feeling sad is the day you should stop volunteering.

The experience has changed my plans. Before the summer, I was going to study business at university because I thought it would lead to a well-paid job. Now I'm looking at courses in animal care instead. My parents were surprised at first, but they can see how much it means to me.

I'd recommend volunteering to anyone my age. Just don't expect it to be easy – or clean!