Lately, I’ve been sharing the first, second, and third parts of my allegorical story. It’s a piece of fiction I wrote alongside my fifth graders. Here’s the final installment. Enjoy!
The next day, as Greta arrived with the rest of the day shift workers, Mrs. Angorio ushered her to a podium in front of everyone. “We’re all set,” she told Greta. “Now go out there and give your coworkers some inspiration!”
Greta stepped up to the microphone and began. “Fellow Juventan children, as you know, I had a very productive day at the factory yesterday. You might be asking yourself, ‘What was her secret?’ ”
Silence.
“My secret…” Greta said, “my secret is…” C’mon, Greta, you can do this. She squared her shoulders and gave Milo a knowing glance. He returned with a thumbs-up. “My secret is to remember what’s really important. To remember the generations that came before us: what they’ve done. To remember what we do for the elders of Juventa, and why. To remember that right now, it’s all in our hands.”
She looked around at the group assembled before her. “Everyone, it’s time for us all to act for the future of Juventa. Are you all ready to do our part?”
“Let’s go!” shouted Milo from the back. “Let’s do it!” And from there, loud applause broke out. Mrs. Angorio stood by, beaming.
The children filed in and set themselves up at their ThinkStations, but instead of taking their imagination on a journey, the kids let themselves feel the full weight of their exhaustion and boredom. Some stared at the walls, others played absently with their fingers or counted tiles in the ceiling.
Before long, Mrs. Angorio rushed in, cutting power to the monitors. “What on earth is happening?” she boomed. “Why isn’t anyone thinking?”
Greta removed her helmet and said, “Mrs. Angorio, we are thinking. We’re just done thinking…for you.” By now, the rest of the workers left their cubicles and stood behind Greta, applauding and cheering.
“So here’s what’s going to happen: we’re all going to walk out now. We’re going to come out of this factory, and we’re going to stare at the sky. We’re going to take our shoes off and walk through the grass. And we’re not coming back until you and the elders figure out how to share the responsibility.”
And with that, the children filed out of the factory, where it stood idle for the first time in generations.
That evening, the elders held an emergency meeting by candlelight. All the village residents, including the night shift kids, were in attendance.
Mrs. Angorio called Greta to face the elders and asked, “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? The town is in darkness, and you’re the one to blame.”
Greta, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, argued, “No, we’re not. I blame the people who used all the gas and coal in the first place! I blame the elders who thought they could lay all their problems on their kids. I blame all the grown-ups who’ve forgotten what it’s like to work in that factory.”
“That’s ridiculous,” replied Mrs. Angorio indignantly. “I mean, it’s a burden, but that’s part of life in Juventa. We had problems in our village, but we’ve come to rely on the unstoppable energy of young people. So, just as we did for our elders, your generation is expected to carry that burden for us.”
“But why does it have to be? I don’t like this life, and I don’t want my children to have this life. If we want solutions to our problems, all of us have to work for them.”
“Well, I-” Mrs. Angorio stammered.
“Come on, Mrs. Angorio. You were a kid once.” Greta turned to the whole council of elders. “Didn’t it bother you to work in a factory instead of running and playing and having fun? Didn’t it bother you that the only place you could play, the only place you could explore or dream was on a video monitor? Didn’t it?”
The room sat silent.
Greta continued. “You don’t have all the answers. And guess what? Neither do we. No one in this room created our problems, but it’s up to all of us to make things better. So we’ll still help out at the power plant, but only if you do, too. What do you say?”
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EPILOGUE
Greta closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her skin. All around her were her favorite sounds: the wind, the call of birds, the lapping of waves on the shore, and the cries of children – her and Milo’s children – at play.
She looked off in the distance, beyond the Cogora Mountains that surrounded her home. Greta knew her family’s yearly vacation at the ocean was coming to a close, and that she’d have to return soon. But that was okay.
There was work to do.
Soapbox: The Way I see Things 
Love your ending. Yes, there are problems. Yes, not all problems are of our making. But, problems can be solved if everyone works together and not look to someone else to solve them for us.