Class of 2020: Battle-scarred and resilient amid new crises

On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, a young woman in Texas — as yet unaware of the horrors unfolding half a country away — learns that she is pregnant. She emerges from her doctor’s office to a shocking new reality. “What kind of world will this be for my child?” she wonders.

Two days later, another woman whose husband perished when terror hit New York City’s Twin Towers finds that she, too, is carrying a new life. Her son is born the following May; he screams for months. Did the death of his father affect him, she fears, even inside her belly?

Those two babies are now 18-year-old men, graduating from high school. Like so many other seniors, their young lives have been extraordinarily eventful. Born in the aftershock of one crisis, their generation is entering adulthood amid more calamity.

They’ve been pegged by some as spoiled or coddled. But having made it through a Great Recession, gun violence and devastating natural disasters that have forever reshaped them — and now a pandemic and nationwide protests over police killings — those interviewed and photographed for this story beg to differ.

Yes, they say, they have felt the impact of all that — and missing prom or graduating in a virtual or socially distanced ceremony, while disappointing, is the least of it. But they also define themselves and their peers as resilient and ready for the challenges ahead.

“Our generation,” says Gavin Walters, son of that Texas mom, “will be the ones to surprise the world.”

Here is the Class of 2020, through the lens of events that have molded them.

•••

April 24, 2005

When his family heard the news about his father — about the explosive device that detonated near his Humvee — Gavin Walters had just turned 3.

Army Corporal Gary Walters Jr. was 31 at the time and serving in Iraq, one of the many Americans who joined the military after the 9/11 terror attacks.

Gavin doesn’t remember his father. He does remember crying in kindergarten when asked to make a Father’s Day gift for his dad — the first time he really understood what had happened.

But even then, he says, he knew he wanted to join the military.

“Some people just feel that call. I feel like I can give back to my dad a little bit, and to my country,” says Gavin, who recently graduated in a small outdoor ceremony with 24 other seniors in Medina, Texas.

He joined the Navy out of respect for his mom, thinking it might be a little less dangerous than the Army. Next week, he will leave his home state for the first time in his life and fly to Chicago for boot camp.

He will take with him photos of the father who still inspires him, though they never met. “This year has definitely been one of the harder ones,” he wrote recently, in a letter to his dad. “There’s days where I wish I had more than just pictures of you.”

But he adds, “I’ve always been told through hardship comes strength. I have to believe that’s true.”

•••

Sept. 29, 2008

Though Abia Khan was just 6 at the time, she was old enough to sense her father’s distress as he watched the stock market crash during the Great Recession of 2008. He lost personal

investments, she says, and would lose his job making computer microchips.

“He didn’t have a degree. It was hard for him to find a job,” says Abia, now 18.

Education was always important to her parents, immigrants from Bangladesh. But after her father searched for a job for 18 months, “they emphasized it even more,” Abia says. Her dad now works at an Amazon warehouse, and her mom for the state, with her brothers in school.

Abia pushed herself academically. She is valedictorian at Phoenix’s North High School. She’s also accepted a full scholarship to Harvard, though her cautious parents worry about her living so far away.

Abia will major in math, but she may add a second major in government or political science. She watches the fallout from these latest national emergencies — and hopes to help. She also hopes, people can set aside their polarized opinions and learn “to be more compassionate and more loving.”

She may want to run for office one day. But for now, her dream for herself is pretty simple: “Stability,” she says — a job she can count on, one that also allows time for family.

•••

August 2016

Sagia Mitchell was 14 when

90 people were shot to death in her hometown of Chicago — one of the deadliest months in the city’s history. But that month doesn’t stand out in her memory.

In her North Lawndale neighborhood, she says, “You’re never safe, and bullets don’t have a name.”

Sagia plans to leave this violent place, and study criminology at Lake Forest College, north of the city. But like many, she’s waiting to see if her classes will be online — a trickier prospect for her because, since September, she’s been living in transitional housing for students at her school. Her parents are not in the picture; an older sister asks that the difficult details of their family history be kept private.

Sagia has kept fighting, despite the setbacks.

She was a Peace Warrior at her high school, North Lawndale College Prep, where students use the teachings of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. to counter violence. In 2018, they formed an alliance with students from Parkland, Florida, after 17 people were killed by a gunman at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.

Sagia also joined a youth program at the Chicago Police Department. She plans, eventually, to become a police officer and return to North Lawndale, to combat crime but also to help build better relations with the community — something she sees as more important than ever as cities burn in the wake of the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis.

“It could change, but it’s not going to change overnight,” Sagia says. “And it’s not going to change if people don’t come together.”

•••

Aug. 25, 2017

Maria Mendoza watched the rain falling, falling, falling as Hurricane Harvey made landfall in Port Arthur, Texas, her coastal city north of Houston.

“We would just pray and try to say whatever happens, happens,” says Maria, a devout Christian.

When Harvey arrived, her biggest concern was her grandfather, paralyzed and partially blind. How would they get him to safety? The storm loomed for hours, dumping a record 60 inches of rain.

A friend came with a big yellow school bus and helped the family flee as homes around them flooded. They landed a few hours north in Tyler, Texas, with a family friend, and used the bus to help deliver diaper, canned food and bottled water to people taking refuge in churches.

“It felt good to help out someone else in need,” says Maria.

Now, she plans to become a nurse, and the pandemic has only made her more certain.

She worries about her parents, both Mexican immigrants whose jobs are considered essential. Mom works at an oil refinery, and dad helps repair propellers for boats and ships.

Eventually, she hopes to buy a home large enough to house them and her younger brothers and their families. For her, togetherness is “everything,” especially now.

“I appreciate things more than I used to,” she says.

•••

Nov. 8, 2018

The one thing Del Smith hoped his dad could save was his guitar — that, and Kermit, their orange tabby cat. But the ferocious wildfire approached their home in rural Paradise,

California, too quickly.

There was no time to grab the guitar. And the cat jumped from the car and ran back toward the house.

This was the Camp Fire, a blaze that would kill 85 people and burn more than 150,000 acres.

They found Kermit with blackened paws, but alive — somehow. But the family home was destroyed, and the Smiths were forced to move on, to nearby Chico.

Eventually, Del returned to Paradise High School. Last fall, his football team, the Bobcats, made it to their divisional title game.

Though they lost 20-7, “it felt good to be the glue that pulls people together,” says Del, a wide receiver.

Then, in March, the coronavirus shut down California, and with it his school.

Sometimes he stares at his bedroom ceiling at night and wonders what’s to come. He expects his generation’s “going to have a hard life. … But we’re ready for it, I guess.”

Del plans to attend nearby Butte College and then transfer to a bigger school. Maybe he’ll be a sound engineer. He’s thought about law school.

He and his brother envision living again on the property where their childhood home once stood. It’s green now, again; he often sits on a large steel tube by his old treehouse, under which a creek runs, and lets his feet hang over the edge. And he strums his new guitar.

•••

Spring 2020

A season of celebration has become a time of unease.

In Seattle, Fran Shannon, a track captain at Nathan Hale High School, was hoping to compete in the triple jump at the Washington state championship. Instead, she was helping care for her quarantined mother, who likely had coronavirus. Her dad, a doctor, slept in their basement to try to keep them safe.

In Tijuana, Liz Prado, also the daughter of doctors, worries for her parents and aches to see the dear friends with whom she attended private high school in San Diego. Unrest in San Diego and elsewhere has made the prospect of seeing them even less likely, for now.

And then there’s Dan Afflitto, the baby who cried for so long in his infancy, after his dad died in the Twin Towers. Dan and his class in Rumson, N.J., are scheduled to join in a virtual graduation on June 19, and possibly an outdoor ceremony in July.

Each Friday, the staff at Rumson-Fair Haven Regional High School has been turning on the football field lights for 20 minutes to honor the seniors. They like to meet there to reminisce from a distance about their time at school together.

Dan played basketball and was a running back on the football team. His dad played soccer in college. He often thought about his dad during the national anthem.

He plans to study sports management at the University of Wisconsin, his stepdad’s alma mater. But for now, he sits and looks at his empty high school field.

“I kind of just try to live in the moment and prepare as best I can for the future,” he says.

“But plans change.”

The Associated Press SEATTLE: Nathan Hale High School senior Fran Shannon stands at her school track, where she was co-captain of the team in Seattle on April 25. Fran had hoped compete in the triple jump at the Washington state track championships, but that and other dreams were cut short by the coronavirus outbreak. “Even with all of the things I’m missing out on, I still feel very blessed to have a roof over my head, and food to eat, and access to materials for online classes,” says Fran, whose father is a doctor who’s helped treat coronavirus patients. She also helped care for her mom, who likely had the virus and was in quarantine for many days. “There are people who have it a lot worse than I do and I think that’s important to keep in mind.”

The Associated Press PORT ARTHUR, TEXAS: Maria Mendoza, center, wears her graduation cap and gown as she stands with her family, from left, father Tomas Ahuja, brothers Joel and Emmanuel, and mother Karina, outside their home in Port Arthur, Texas, on May 11. Maria and her family fled Hurricane Harvey in 2017 and ended up helping other families. She says the coronavirus pandemic has only strengthened her resolve to become a nurse and made her even more grateful for what she has — especially family. For her, being with them is “everything,” she says.

The Associated Press MEDINA, TEXAS: Medina High School graduate Gavin Walters sits near his home in Medina, Texas, on May 26. Gavin’s father, Gary Walters Jr., a corporal in the Army, died in Iraq in 2005 when Gavin was just three years old. He is heading to basic training for the Navy — a moment he wishes he could share with his father. But he says he’s been glad to celebrate with his mom and other family. Despite the crises his generation has faced — starting with their births in the aftermath of the 9/11 terror attacks — he remains optimistic about the future: “I think our generation will be the ones to surprise the world.”

The Associated Press RUMSON, N.J: Dan Afflitto, a senior at Rumson-Fair Haven Regional High School, sits by the football field at his school in Rumson, N.J., on May 22. Dan, who graduates June 19, lost his father, for whom he is named, in the terror attacks of Sept. 11, 2001 — months before the younger Dan was born. He said he often thought of his dad during the national anthem before his football and basketball games. “It just made me want to play the best that I could,” he says.

The Associated Press CHICAGO: Sagia Mitchell sits amid crosses outside her high school, North Lawndale College Preparatory High School, in Chicago on May 30. At the school, she was a Peace Warrior, helping calm conflicts. Her fellow Peace Warriors placed the crosses at her school in 2018, after they carried them in a school walkout to protest gun violence and honor the dead, not just in their own neighborhood, but nationwide. Sagia will be attending college in the fall and hopes to return to her neighborhood as a police officer.

The Associated Press PARADISE, CALIF.: Del Smith plays his guitar in fire-burned trees near where his family’s home was destroyed by the 2018 Camp Fire in Paradise, Calif., on April 15. Del, a graduating senior and football player at Paradise High School, often returns to the site of his childhood home and says playing his guitar is an outlet for the emotions tied to his memories of the fire and current crises in the world. He says hardship has taught him to take challenges in stride. “This coming generation’s going to have a hard life. Something’s going to happen,” he says. “But we’re ready for it, I guess.”

The Associated Press LAVEEN, ARIZ.: Harvard bound Abia Khan, the valedictorian of her Class of 2020 at North High School, stands in her cap and gown in Laveen, Ariz., on May 5. Abia addressed her class in a virtual graduation speech. “One thing I’ve realized is the importance of connection — not only in times of isolation but also in times we are together,” she said in the speech for which she also wore her cap and gown while recording in front of her computer. “… I hope that as we move forward in our lives, we keep striving to make those connections.” Abia is the daughter of immigrants from Bangladesh. She says her parents taught her the importance of a college education, especially when her father was laid off in the Great Recession. When asked for her dream for herself, it was pretty simple: “Stability.”