America’s Field Trip 2025

Art by Arjun K.

Art by Arjun K.

5th Grade, Montville, New Jersey

Art by Mirabelle G.

Art by Mirabelle G.

4th Grade, Pasadena, California

Art by Aileen K.

Art by Aileen K.

5th Grade, Saipan, Northern Mariana Islands

I started reading biographies when I was eight,
Stories about people who made America great.
Paul Revere’s bravery and his midnight flight
Taught me to help others and stand up for what’s right.
Trudy Ederle, who survived the English Channel sea,
Showed me how strong of a girl I can be.
The lesson I learned from Rosa Parks:
Small, simple acts can make a big mark.
Teddy Roosevelt showed me that I share the duty
Of preserving our nation’s parks and beauty.
The inspiring heroes in our history
Make being an American so special to me.

By Abigail C., 3rd Grade, Ponte Vedra, Florida

America is more than a place. It’s a promise.

My dad grew up in Spain, where traditions run deep, but he dreamed of new opportunities. He came to America, and now, I live in a country where cultures blend like a giant mosaic.

At home, we eat tortilla de patatas and celebrate Reyes. We also watch fireworks on the Fourth of July.

We share America with exchange students and we help a refugee family from Afghanistan feel at home.

To me, America is not just about where you’re from. It's about how we come together to create something even greater!

By Zadie B., 4th Grade, Charlotte, North Carolina

Art by Eric B.

Art by Eric B.

7th Grade, Rifton, New York

Art by Kanghyeon B.

Art by Kanghyeon B.

8th Grade, Meridian, Idaho

THE SACRIFICE

I take for granted what our Forefathers gave,
How Lincoln boldly led to free the slaves,
And the blood our troops shed on that Fateful D-Day,
While parents and children on their knees fought and prayed.

In Massachusetts the first shot was heard,
Then battles at Lexington and Gettysburg
Left fatherless families as smoke occurred.

Thomas Jefferson who never grew tired
Penning words of Independence which were God-inspired.
Lives taken by guns and cannons that were fired
Bought freedom for slaves for which Lee aspired.

After fire, destruction, and blood on the wall
Leaders invested to rebuild it all.
I stand on their shoulders to answer the call!

The character of astronauts who lost their lives,
Perseverance of Einstein that kept him in line,
Kindness of Clara who nursed soldiers alive;
Rescuers fight through rubble for lives to find.

Thanks to Franklin who gave us power
He worked endlessly over the hours
Pledging his life, fortune and sacred honor.

Firepower advanced from cannon to tank.
At Pearl Harbor where the Arizona sank,
Courage and valor had those joining the rank.
Indebted to all military, I humbly thank.

To these men and women, my head I nod,
For Washington’s faith through uneven odds
Remained steadfast in our Creator God.

From the underground railroad allowing a freedom decree
To the aircraft and ships valiantly fighting at sea...
All of that so I can be free!
This is what America means to me!

By Austin F., 8th Grade, Weldon Spring, Missouri

Dear Mr. Benjamin Franklin,

In your time, the United States hardly existed. As I am writing this letter, it is almost the semi quincentennial, and BOY does the US exist now!

I am writing on a thing called a “computer.” It is almost impossible to explain computers to someone who will never see one. Computers are just one thing that has changed since your time.

For one, there are fifty states now! The flag is much harder to draw because there’s one star for each state.

There are also many new amendments to the constitution (27 and counting).

You might be surprised, but you’re pretty famous even though you lived nearly 250 years ago, and there are hundreds of books written about your life.

I read that you wanted the turkey to be the national bird. It still isn’t, but turkeys have changed a lot, probably almost as much as America has. Both Turkeys and the US have become incredibly diverse (every state is almost like its own country)!

I hope that the United States will continue to improve for a long time. I think that hope for improvement in the future is a very important thing about the US.

Even with all the changes I’ve mentioned and all the changes that will come in the future, America has always been and will always be the same thing: exactly what we make it.

— Corrina

P.S.
Thank you for inventing lightning rods.

By Corrina T., 7th Grade, Winterville, Georgia

The first time I felt America, it wasn’t in a history book or under a flag
it was in the silence of a library,
when I realized I could sit at a table,
open any book I wanted,
and no one could stop me.

Not because I was anyone special.
But because I didn’t have to be.

That’s what stayed with me: the quiet.
The freedom inside it.
The kind of silence that wasn’t empty,
but full of choices.
Full of possibility.

I didn’t understand the Constitution at ten years old.
I hadn’t read the Declaration of Independence.
I didn’t know about revolution or civil rights
or the blood that was spilled to get someone like me into that chair.
But I knew what it meant to be free.
Even in a small, quiet way.

That was America to me.

Not the loud speeches or fireworks,
not the parades or the songs.
But the space.
The space to choose.
To think.
To become.

Now, when I think of America turning 250,
I don’t think about how long we’ve been here
I think about how far we still get to go.

Because America isn’t just something we celebrate.
It’s something we shape.
With our words.
With our questions.
With our courage.

We don’t need to be loud to belong.
We don’t need to be famous to matter.

We just need to care.

And I do.

That is America to me.

By Singita C., 8th Grade, Palm Beach Gardens, Florida

Art by Simone H.

Art by Simone H.

11th Grade, Haymarket, Virginia

Art by Yufan L.

Art by Yufan L.

11th Grade, Colorado Springs, Colorado

America is more than a place—it is a promise. A promise of opportunity, resilience, and faith. It is the only nation where a boy like me, with Cuban and Italian roots, raised with a deep Catholic faith, can dream boundlessly. It is a land where my aspirations—becoming a pediatrician, an entrepreneur, and a servant leader—are not dictated by where I begin but by how hard I work.

To me, America is the embodiment of meritocracy. It is where my brothers and I can pursue distinct paths—one as a pharmacist, one as a lawyer, and myself in medicine—each driven by dedication, not predetermined by privilege or class. My faith teaches me that service is the highest calling, and America is a nation that honors those who serve, whether in medicine, business, or the National Guard.

America also means freedom. Freedom to worship, to think critically, to speak boldly. It is a country that does not demand uniformity but rather thrives on diversity—of thought, of culture, of dreams. Religious liberty is woven into the nation’s fabric, ensuring that my Catholic beliefs are not just tolerated but protected. That freedom allows me to live my faith, serve my community, and defend the dignity of every person I meet.

But America is also responsibility. It is a country that rewards effort but expects stewardship. As I prepare for my future, I do so with the understanding that success is not just personal—it must be shared. America is strongest when its citizens use their gifts to lift others, to innovate, to educate, and to heal. That is my vision of the American Dream: not just achieving success but ensuring the next generation can do the same.

To me, America is grit. It is the long hours my immigrant ancestors worked so their children could go to school. It is my football team, pushing through adversity to compete. It is my parents, who sacrificed so my brothers and I could build a future. It is my classmates, who dream of serving, building, and leading.

America is not perfect, but perfection is not its promise. Opportunity is. And as long as we remain faithful to that ideal, the American Dream will endure.

By Jack J., 12th Grade, Elgin, Illinois

What America Means to Me: The Truth Beyond the Appalachian Stereotype

The sound of a mountain dulcimer echoing through the hills, the rich aroma of ramps sizzling in homemade butter, and the sight of a close-knit community coming together—this is my home, almost heaven, West Virginia. It is a place of deep-rooted traditions, hard working people, and an unwavering sense of belonging. Yet, growing up here, I often feel the pull to leave, not because I do not love my home, but because the world beyond these mountains seems to believe opportunity is reserved for those born elsewhere.

America is built on the promise of opportunity—a place where anyone, regardless of background, can achieve success through hard work and determination. At least, that is the ideal. In reality, opportunity often feels reserved for those from certain places, in environments that align with the country’s vision of success. Those from rural areas, like mine, are frequently overlooked, reduced to stereotypes that suggest we are uneducated, incapable, and destined for failure. The media reinforces these misconceptions, painting Appalachians as nothing more than impoverished, unambitious individuals who lack the sophistication to contribute meaningfully to society.

Time and again, I have watched movies and television shows that claim to depict my home, only to see an exaggerated distortion—people with missing teeth, clad in overalls, speaking in a thick, almost foreign drawl. These portrayals are far from the truth. They do not reflect my family, my friends, or the resilience, intelligence, and depth of my community. The people of Appalachia are resourceful and hardworking. They innovate, build, and preserve traditions that define the true American spirit. Yet, despite embodying perseverance and self-reliance—values America claims to celebrate—we are often cast aside.

The reality is that opportunity in America is not as universal as we are led to believe. It is easier to access for those born in major cities, near economic hubs, and within social circles already connected to success. Education, networking, and financial resources are far more available in these areas, allowing those who grow up there to take advantage of the so-called American Dream. Meanwhile, those from rural communities must work twice as hard to be taken seriously, to break free from the limitations imposed by outsiders who assume they are undeserving of upward mobility.

This does not mean success is impossible for those from places like mine, but the road is steeper, the journey longer, and the need to prove oneself greater. America prides itself on being the land of opportunity, but that opportunity is not evenly distributed. The doors to success are not always open for those from the forgotten corners of the country. And yet, we persist. We carve out spaces for ourselves, challenge misconceptions, and redefine what it means to come from places the world deems unworthy.

My home, my people, and my story are more than what the world chooses to see. And perhaps, in proving that, we embody the true spirit of America after all.

By Juliann H., 10th Grade, Elkins, West Virginia

“The American Dream.” Isn’t that what everybody strives for in the land of the free? The hard part of it all is that nobody tells you how hard it is to achieve that, let alone be successful. My parents came to this country from El Salvador when they were nothing but young adults in their late teens. From then on, they’ve had to work so hard to make sure my brother and I can live a good life in this country.

Being a first-generation kid to immigrants has had its moments. When my brother first moved into college, my parents were so happy to see their son go to college. It’s a quiet reminder that keeps me moving forward. At fifteen, I decided to move to boarding school for the benefit of my education. Late-night weekends at home turned to late-night studying with my friends. Just like my parents, I have sacrificed my late teens for a better life.

I’ve been a witness to the struggles that not only my parents faced, but the Latino community in general. For decades, the United States has had a backlog for those seeking asylum and entry into the United States. My mom and dad waited twenty years to get their green card, and, in those years, they hoped every day for that one phone call that would change their future.

For my family, I am their last hope of breaking the cycle of poverty and missed opportunities. Every time I do my work in school, I know that I have to do my best. If not for myself, then for all those who came before me. Everything I’ve endured will mean something greater when I’m walking along that stage at graduation with my degree in hand.

I know the road ahead will be filled with countless hours of studying until my brain hurts, sleepless nights, as well as moments when I’ll feel like I want to give up, but I won’t. I will be the first lawyer in my family, make a name for myself, and be successful, knowing that my hard work and effort got me here.

I’m eternally grateful for the life my parents have been able to provide for me, and I can’t wait for the day my parents get to see their daughter achieve her dreams. America has shown me that while struggles are inevitable, my ambition to be great will never wither away. I want nothing more than to achieve my dreams and be the first lawyer in my family. America gave me the seed of hope, and I’ll continue to nurture it. I am the hope that grew in a small rural town called Nashville, Arkansas, and I’m breaking the cycle.

By Katherine Q., 12th Grade, Nashville, Arkansas