Earlier this spring, when President Trump threatened to drop out of a major climate accord and berated fellow NATO members on his first trip to Europe, German Chancellor Angela Merkel rallied the continent.

“The times in which we can fully count on others are somewhat over,” she told a crowd in Munich. “We Europeans really must take our fate into our own hands.”

Implicit in that message was the reassurance that it was Ms. Merkel who would shepherd Europe in the reshuffled order.

But what if there is no Merkel?

Month-long negotiations in Berlin to form a coalition government after September’s federal election collapsed Sunday night. Germany found itself in uncharted waters, facing its worst political crisis since World War II. Many have begun to see Merkel as a weakened caretaker chancellor with an uncertain future.

German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier has called on the political parties to resume coalition talks. If they cannot reach agreement, he seems likely to call fresh elections.

The crisis undermines Merkel’s stature after 12 years in office that have made her a crucial pillar of the European Union, and some observers call it an important wake-up call about the new political realities facing Europe. Just as the EU adjusted to a disinterested America under Barack Obama and later a defiant one under President Trump, it may have to get used to life without the continent’s de facto leader, they say.

“People are slowly getting used to the idea that there will be life after Merkel, and Europe has to get used to this idea also,” says Roland Freudenstein, policy director of the Wilfried Martens Center for European Studies, a think tank in Brussels.

A reality check

The crisis in Europe’s economic powerhouse has struck at a delicate moment for Europe. The EU is in the middle of complex and rancorous negotiations with London over Britain’s exit from the Union; extreme right wing, anti-EU political parties remain a force in many countries; the euro-zone needs reform to strengthen its common currency; and though the flow of migrants has slowed, it has not dried up.

On all these fronts, Germany has come to be seen as the indispensable nation, whose decisions shape European debate.

Paul Nolte, a professor of contemporary history at Free University Berlin, says the instability in Germany is certainly not good for Europe. Yet he also sees it as a reality check. “It works against the myth of Germany the strong man, and Merkel the strong woman of Germany,” which he says he has seen oft-repeated during his recent academic year as a visiting professor at Oxford University.

“I’ve often been irritated about how much trust and expectation is being projected onto Germany and Merkel. I think it’s good to see Germany in a way being shrunk to its real size and not blown up to some mythical dimension,” he suggests.

It’s also time, he says, for other member states to step up, notably France.

New French President Emmanuel Macron is keen to take on new responsibilities. After winning office on a strongly pro-EU platform, he has voiced grand visions for Europe including a European finance ministry, continent-wide taxes and a common military force.

But none of those ideas will come to anything without German support. That support – uncertain even with Merkel in office – is now firmly on hold.

“The expectations of French-German-leadership in the EU are frozen,” says Thomas Jäger, professor of international politics at the University of Cologne. “There will not be a new dynamic in the EU without these two states working closely together.”

It is unclear still how or when a new German government might emerge, given the apparently irreconcilable differences among potential coalition partners from left and right that torpedoed the talks.

A new political landscape

An opinion poll on Monday showed 45 percent of voters favoring new elections and 49 percent believing that Merkel should run again, which she has said she would do.

But even if she prevails, the Chancellor knows that her party made its worst electoral showing since 1949 partly because the far-right, anti-foreigner Alternative for Germany did better than ever before, entering parliament for the first time.

For the political analyst Mr. Freudenstein, this is no more than the “normalization” of German politics, undergoing the same changes as other European nations that have have contended with pressure from far-right parties for decades. “We are only becoming more like our neighbors,” he says.

Philipp Wittrock, writing on the German website Spiegel Online, says the nation’s anxiety is compounded by the responsibility Germany feels as the leader of Europe. For that reason the nation must stay calm, he cautions. “The country has to endure uncertainty for a while, without forgetting the seriousness of the situation, but also without panicking," he argues.

Joerg Forbrig, fellow at the German Marshall Fund of the US in Berlin, is optimistic that Germany, and Europe, will ride the current crisis out. “This is a political problem,” he points out. “As novel as this situation may be, this is not instability. Even without a government at the moment, this country is perfectly functional.”

Mary Clare Jalonick/AP

Rep. Will Hurd, R-Texas (l.), and Rep. Beto O'Rourke, D-Texas, pose for a photo at the Capitol in March on Capitol Hill in Washington. Nearly 36 hours after it started, the bipartisan road trip has ended and the two Texas congressmen are back at work in Washington.

Earlier this year, a snowy winter deluge turned gridlock in Washington from figurative to literal. In that pause for breath, bipartisanship went viral in the form of two young Texas congressmen taking a road trip together.

Will Hurd, a Republican and former undercover CIA operative from Helotes, and Beto O’Rourke, a Democrat and former software company founder from El Paso, spent two days in a car with each other – and with Williberto, the trip’s piñata mascot – talking music, food, their first cars, and politics. Hundreds of thousands of people followed on social media. A few other members of Congress even suggested making their own #bipartisanroadtrip in the future. 

“One reason it captured so much attention is because it’s so rare,” says Harold Cook, a Texas Democratic strategist. “I think a lot of people were wondering [at the time], ‘Why is this so rare? There’s something wrong if it’s so rare.’”

The two emerged from the trip friends, becoming two prominent examples of bipartisanship for a country that seems increasingly eager for it.

There is one looming problem, however: Both will be fighting for their political careers next year. And there’s every chance both could lose. Representative O’Rourke has launched a longshot bid to unseat Republican Sen. Ted Cruz, while Representative Hurd will be fighting to retain one of the most hotly-contested seats in Congress.

Their futures raise larger questions. Can a moderate Republican rise through the ranks of an increasingly partisan GOP? And is cooperation, and genuine friendship, with members of the opposing party something that voters will reward? Or punish?

A ‘productive’ friendship

Having served together for three years, Hurd and O’Rourke knew each other well enough as colleagues to schedule three joint meetings with veterans in San Antonio the day the winter storm hit Washington. They didn’t know each other well enough, however, to avoid an uncomfortable first couple hours on the road (after O’Rourke suggested they rent a car and drive back to D.C.).

“The first 90 minutes were tough, I’ll be honest,” Hurd told ABC News in July. “But what was great about this was while Beto and I had worked on things before…having a long dialogue we learned there were many other areas we could probably cooperate on.”

The two have remained friends. Hurd had a hand-drawn map of their route framed for O’Rourke. O’Rourke compiled a Spotify playlist of the music they listened to. Hurd dropped by O’Rourke’s office on his birthday. They check in with each other on the House floor every now and then.

“It’s been a productive relationship, but it’s also a friendship,” says O’Rourke of his work with Hurd, in an interview. “I think I’ve become more effective for our friendship.”

It is also a rare friendship, not only because they are members of opposing parties, but because they are both public about it.

“I think there are many more bipartisan friendships [today], but people are afraid to be public about them because it sets them up for primary challenges,” says Sean Theriault, a professor of government at the University of Texas at Austin.

Bipartisan friendships were commonplace around 40 years ago, particularly among same-state representatives. Members of Congress would tear into each other on the floor then golf together in the afternoon. Even more common, says Professor Theriault, was for members of opposing parties to publicly stay out of each other’s re-election races.

But when asked for another example like O’Rourke and Hurd today, he is quiet.

“Maybe my stunned silence means it’s unique,” he says, finally.

Now, portions of the electorate and some members of Congress are hoping that may be about to change.

“The voters are really pushing,” says Rep. Henry Cuellar (D) of Texas, considered one of the most bipartisan members of his state delegation. “They don’t want extremes up here, they’re getting tired of the extremes, and I think that’s why folks like Beto and Will do well.”

But not all voters are eager to see common ground and compromise.

Take a town hall event O’Rourke held in San Antonio in October. James Kane, Democratic chairman of a county precinct, stood up and asked the congressman to publicly distance himself from Hurd.

When O’Rourke refused – saying he would lose Hurd’s trust, and thus their ability to work together – Mr. Kane told him he didn’t have his precinct’s support.

“I gotcha,” O’Rourke replied. “That may be the price of bipartisanship.”

“No. It’s not bipartisanship,” Kane interrupted. “You’re backstabbing us.”

Congress has been polarized and gridlocked for years, and while voters have complained, they have generally tolerated it. But they may now have reached a breaking point, some experts believe.

“Donald Trump is not the first one to polarize Americans, but he is I think the first one to at least not try to give lip service to bring Americans together,” says Mr. Cook. “It probably seems a lot more destructive and harmful to voters than it ever did before.”

Indeed, 54 percent of Americans say they want political leaders to compromise to get things done, an October Gallup poll found, compared with 18 percent who said they would prefer leaders to stick to their beliefs even if little gets done.

Rep. Elise Stefanik  (R) of New York – a co-chair of the center-right Tuesday Group caucus – believes there is something deeper at work in Congress, where a new generation of young, practical lawmakers are seeking to bridge the yawning partisan divide they were elected into.

“They have come of age in adult life where there has been quite a lot of gridlock,” says Representative Stefanik, who serves with Hurd on the House Intelligence Committee and with O’Rourke on the House Armed Services Committee, where they co-sponsored a bill allowing the Department of Veterans Affairs to hire doctors faster.

“I think younger members … they’re looking for results, they’re looking for good ideas.”

Wooing Texas Republicans

“Going through this Wendy’s line, this may be a hamburger too far,” O’Rourke told Texas Monthly during the road trip. “We just made a bipartisan decision to leave this Wendy’s and go to Chick-fil-A.”

Statistically speaking, O’Rourke was the second-most bipartisan Texas representative in the last House session, per the Lugar Center’s Bipartisan Index, which determines rankings based on the number of bills a politician sponsors or co-sponsors with a member of the opposing party. Nine of the 24 members of the Texas Congressional delegation were considered “bipartisan” in the Index. Hurd was sixth.

O'Rourke is young and charismatic, with floppy hair and a toothy smile reminiscent of Bobby Kennedy. His Senate campaign seems to be generating enthusiasm among Democratic voters. He outraised Senator Cruz in the first quarter after declaring his candidacy. He draws big crowds in person and online. Twelve thousand people tuned in for a Facebook Live video of him getting a haircut.

But if he is to become the first Democrat elected to statewide office in Texas since 1994 – the longest losing streak of any state party in the country – appealing to Republican voters will be critical, experts say.

That seems to be where O’Rourke is focusing his efforts.

His campaign has been defined by long road trips – this time to town hall meetings in remote and conservative towns around Texas. The town halls often involve uncomfortable debates with residents. One woman in the West Texas town of Fort Stockton, for example, told him she wanted to see Obamacare repealed.

“If President Trump, if [Paul Ryan] the Speaker of the House, have a better way to cover people less expensively, they can call it ‘Trumpcare’ and Beto O’Rourke would vote for it in a second,” he told her.

The strategy makes sense when you consider that O’Rourke is running against Cruz, a man who helped incite a government shutdown in 2013 and who wears his GOP colleagues’ frustration with him as a “badge of honor” and proof of his outsider status.

The El Paso congressman favors small, incremental gains over big, zero-sum ideological stands.

Comprehensive and progressive immigration reform, for example, is one of his larger goals, but nothing progressive is likely to pass a GOP-controlled Congress and White House. Instead, he is working to reform parts of immigration law, such as for family members of US citizens permanently barred from re-entering the country because of a technical issue.

He has authored a bill that would let a federal judge decide if those family members can re-enter the country, a bill Hurd signed onto after their road trip. (O’Rourke also signed onto one of Hurd’s bills.)

“I can hold out for [comprehensive immigration reform] and go bust in this session,” he says, “or I can in the meantime work on things that can make the situation better.”

“I try to keep an open mind and work with anyone who I can find some common ground with,” he adds.

The spy-turned-congressman

While their friendship could help O’Rourke, it is likely a greater asset for Hurd. As the representative for the 23rd District of Texas, showing bipartisanship is more than an asset for him. It’s a requirement.

“Being in the only competitive district in Texas,” he said in the “ABC News” interview, “my job is to get things done, and people back home appreciate that.”

The 23rd covers eight driving hours and 800 miles of arid West Texas brush and desert between San Antonio and El Paso. It is 70 percent Hispanic, includes big city suburbs, small country towns, and Big Bend National Park. Its southern boundary is one-third of the US-Mexico border, and it is larger than 29 states.

In the decade it has been drawn this way, no person has ever held the district for more than a single term – until voters re-elected Hurd by just over 3,000 votes (a 1.3 percent margin of victory) last year. Four people have entered the Democratic primary to challenge him next year, including a female Air Force veteran. It is “one of the five most competitive Congressional seats in the country,” says Matt Mackowiak, an Austin-based GOP strategist.

“Showing bipartisanship, showing effectiveness, demonstrating legislative success – those are all critical in that district, no matter who the representative is,” he adds.

Hurd, who didn’t respond to numerous requests for comment, seems to accomplish this by sticking to his expertise in computer science and national security. He worked as an undercover CIA agent in places like Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India, and seems to live for granular, unsexy issues such as I.T. procurement.

But a practical approach to lawmaking is not enough on its own to win a coin-flip district like the 23rd. That approach is reinforced by an intensive personal presence, giving constituents ample opportunity to tell him what they expect.

The banner example of this is “DC2DQ,” an exhaustive tour at small-town Dairy Queen restaurants – a strategy that echoes O’Rourke’s own small town-focused Senate campaign.

“Everyone knows about his Dairy Queen tour,” says Stefanik. 

Cook, the Democratic strategist, saw Hurd speak in person at an annual banquet celebrating the Big Bend Conservancy.

“If I didn’t know anything about Will Hurd, if I wasn’t political and if I just walked in there barely aware [he] was my member of Congress, I would think, ‘That guy’s all right,’ ” he says. “And by the way, I probably wouldn’t have got any hints about which party he belonged to.”

You can imagine Hurd being exactly what the GOP had in mind when it released its “autopsy report” following the 2012 election: A smart, charismatic, African-American Republican representing a majority-Hispanic district.

But that vision of the Republican Party was interrupted by the rise of Trumpism, and Hurd’s career, along with other fellow moderates, may have stalled along with it.

Today’s GOP “is Trumpian, it’s [Alabama Senate candidate] Roy Moore, it’s the tea party,” says Cal Jillson, a political scientist at Southern Methodist University in Dallas. “It’s just a hard time to be a sensible person.”

Since retaining his seat on the same night as Trump’s victory, Hurd has been walking the tightrope between criticizing the president but not alienating his base.

While he votes in line with Trump’s position 96 percent of the time, according to a FiveThirtyEight analysis, he voted against repealing the Affordable Care Act this year, and he is a vocal critic of a southern border wall. And he’s also friends with a Democrat.

If there is a big pushback against Trump’s populist brand, Hurd “might not have hit his ceiling,” Theriault says.

But if there is no pushback?

“I think he could have a long and fruitful career as the representative from that district,” Theriault continues, “and not much more.”

A new generation?

While the trip certainly cast members of Congress in a refreshing light, O’Rourke has said it also elevated Americans’ compassion and kindness above the usual cynicism seen on social media. He recalled leaving a late-night stop at Gibson’s Donuts in Memphis, Tenn., where a waiting crowd worried whether Hurd had his seatbelt on and if O’Rourke had enough coffee.

When the two pulled up at the Capitol steps in their rented Chevy Impala, a dozen people, a local news crew, and a man with a Texas flag were waiting. O’Rourke put on a tie while Hurd, wearing his friend’s coat, answered questions. After getting properly dressed and cracking a few jokes (“If I start being mean to him it’s because of separation anxiety,” Hurd said), they walked up the stairs, shook hands, signed off Facebook Live, and entered the House chamber.

Their friendship “shows that young members are willing to work and reach across the aisle,” Stefanik says. “I’m hopeful more of these new generations of leaders will be elected and help cut through the divide.”

Amadou Diallo/The Hechinger Report

Benito Juarez Community Academy serves 1,800 students in Chicago's lower West Side neighborhood.

At Benito Juarez Community Academy, students begin each day by scanning their ID cards, sliding their backpacks through an X-ray machine, and walking through an airport-security-style metal detector.

In a city that recorded 762 murders in 2016, the most in the nation, security measures like these were authorized years ago for every public high school. At Juarez, they reinforce a long-held reputation for gang violence at the school and in its predominantly Latino, Lower West Side neighborhood.

Yet, inside the building, a new vision for the education of low-income students of color has taken root. It’s built around a skills-based model that prioritizes student mastery, extensive community outreach, and a culture that views college enrollment as an expectation. The results have been dramatic.

Since 2013, when the Chicago school switched to its skills-based curriculum, Juarez has seen gains in graduation rates and college acceptance that seemed unlikely for a school that had been on academic probation since 1996. Today, Juarez is ranked 49th out of 658 Illinois public high schools based on test scores and college readiness. And it’s made these gains without the wholesale turnover in staff that often characterizes school turnaround efforts.

“Juarez is now a destination school,” says principal Juan Ocón. Against citywide declines in public school enrollment, Mr. Ocón notes that Juarez has seen enrollment gains in each of the past four years and is now serving more than 1,800 students in a facility built for 1,500.

Still, reputations are hard to shake.

Amadou Diallo/The Hechinger Report

At Benito Juarez Community Academy in Chicago, 84 percent of students graduate on time and 52 percent of the graduates now go to college, an 11-point increase from 2012, according to data provided by Chicago Public Schools.

“A lot of people judged me,” says senior Lexus Resendiz, “because I chose to come here instead of a selective school. They said there’s a lot of gang activity, and the academic programs are not that strong.”

For fellow senior Raoul Sandoval, similar warnings came from family members who lived and worked in the school’s Lower West Side, Pilsen neighborhood. Knowing that he had always excelled academically, they urged him to apply for a scholarship to a private school instead.

Both students, on track to be the first in their households to attend college, insist that those stereotypes are outdated. “My freshman year was academically challenging,” says Mr. Sandoval. “That’s when I knew I had chosen the right school.”

A principal's vision

The impetus for the change at Juarez can be traced to Ocón’s appointment as principal in 2008, veteran school staffers say. At that time, more than 80 percent of students were failing to meet state proficiency standards, and the school was graduating fewer than half of its students. Ocón, who had been at the school since 2005 as the assistant principal, became convinced that the source of the dismal performance numbers was not the kids but a curriculum that was simply not working to their benefit.

Ocón describes lesson plans that were based around presenting content and then giving quizzes and tests at predetermined intervals. Ocón looked for an alternative approach.

“This is an issue of equity,” he says. “All the traditional method does is sort students. It does not work for black and brown students. Our students have immense talent but this system handicaps them.”

Instead, he proposed a radical change: moving the entire school to a standards-based grading model that emphasized skill acquisition over rote memorization tested at rigid intervals. At Juarez there are no Ds or Fs. And no deadlines. Students progress through a related series of tasks, each meant to develop a discrete skill. If a student fails to demonstrate mastery of a given skill, they are provided with additional resources and time.

Providing time to achieve

Juarez has extended its school calendar into August for students who require additional opportunities to prove their proficiency. The expectation is that every kid can master the skills — and when that mastery occurs is of much less importance. Advocates of this approach say it has the potential to redefine what education means. 

“Do you want grades to be about whether a kid turns in their homework?” asks Sarah Duncan, co-director of the Network for College Success, an education nonprofit based at the University of Chicago, “Or do you care about them mastering the skill?”

Critics of the traditional teaching model of presenting information and then giving a test point to the lack of actionable information offered by a single cumulative grade. In a history class, for example, imagine two students taking a test based on a chapter reading on the Vietnam War. Both get a D, implying a similar lack of understanding. Yet one student may have limited geography skills, and the other student may have limited literacy skills. In a standards-based grading curriculum, abilities in each subject would be assessed individually.

At Juarez, this skills-first approach is giving students greater flexibility. Courses are year-long and calendar-driven midterm and final exams are jettisoned in favor of ongoing assessments. These un-graded evaluations occur regularly so that students and teachers can make adjustments as necessary to ensure mastery.

Ocón is quick to point out that fundamental changes like this don’t happen overnight. “It took us two years,” he says, “before we could implement a single element of standards-based grading. As a staff we had to go through complicated, emotional conversations that drained us. But at the heart of it was an agreement that what we had been doing for the last 20 years was not working.”

The school did not sacrifice academic rigor, Ocón explains. He and his department leaders analyzed state requirements and national standards, such as the Common Core, to extract the underlying skills they required and then put together a roadmap for mastery. The game-changer, Ocón says, was “We first defined the skills and then wrapped the content around them.”

Buy-in among teachers was crucial because they were being asked to leave behind techniques honed through years of practice for something completely new. It was a trade-off that veteran Juarez teachers say was worth it. “The difference in the school between 2008 and now is night and day,” says Mary Norris, a chemistry teacher who’s been at the school for 18 years.

Closing the gap

At Juarez, 97 percent of students qualify for free or reduced-priced lunch, a common measure of poverty. Eighty-four percent of Juarez’s students graduate on time and 52 percent of the graduates now go to college, an 11-point increase from 2012, according to data provided by Chicago Public Schools. 

As a neighborhood school, Juarez enrolls any student living within its zoned boundary. Students can choose among 16 Advanced Placement classes and opt for a dual-enrollment program in which juniors and seniors earn high school and college credits simultaneously. The school also offers a four-year International Baccalaureate program for qualified students ready to tackle a more ambitious workload. That was the appeal for senior Elizabeth Lopez, who grew up in Pilsen and was accepted to a selective high school but chose to stay in the community that raised her.

Ms. Lopez said she has benefitted not only from the academic rigor at Juarez but also its embrace of her Mexican-American culture and its strong ties to the community. “I’ve seen the impact Juarez has on Pilsen,” she said, noting the school’s partnerships with local arts organizations offering free classes to residents. “Juarez has shaped me. I want to go to law school so I can advocate for immigration rights, and if I had gone to another school I might not be saying that.”

Part of what makes Juarez unique is its holistic approach, says Ms. Duncan. Adopting standards-based grading was important, she acknowledges, but so is the school’s strong commitment to the community. “There’s parents all over that building all of the time. Juarez treats them as assets, not liabilities, working against the narrative we have in this country that poor people don’t care about their kids’ education.”

More work to be done  

Despite the school’s successes, Ocón knows there is much more work to be done. The school’s newfound desirability means stretching finite resources even further. “We are bursting at the seams,” Ocón acknowledges. “It’s a complication that pushes us to think differently about how we do school. Rather than crying foul, I want to use it as an opportunity to bring about systemic change.” 

More of that change is underway. Juarez is one of six Chicago high schools selected to develop a school-wide competency-based learning curriculum as part of an Illinois pilot program. The goal is to establish a new set of graduation requirements for students based on academic mastery rather than credit hours.

Amadou Diallo/The Hechinger Report

Chemistry teacher Mary Norris has seen a dramatic turnaround in academics and culture at the Benito Juarez Community Academy in Chicago over the last nine years.

A competency-based curriculum builds on what Juarez has already done, says Matt Townsley, director of Instruction and Technology in Iowa’s Solon school district. It allows students who have already mastered skills to move on at a faster pace, rather than trudge through content at the same rate as the rest of the class, he says. 

Ocón says that the progress at Juarez is replicable at schools facing similar challenges. But he stresses that radical change requires a school-wide commitment. “For 20 years we heard that this was a gang school, that it’s violent,” he says. “The only way to rewrite that narrative is with a grass-roots approach that has buy-in from the teachers. And you have to make the change, not with one or two departments, but with the entire school.”

This story was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. 

Part 1: Rural schools unite to make college the rule, rather than the exception

Courtesy of Andy King/Discovery Education

Last month, Gitanjali Rao earned the top prize at the Discovery Education 3M Young Scientist Challenge.

In many ways, Gitanjali Rao is a typical 11-year-old: energetic and chatty, with a smile that lights up her face. She can also talk easily about carbon nanotubes, Arduino processors, the reactions between lead acetate and chloride, and how to think through a long-term design process – from conceptualization to experimentation and building. Plus, she’s driven to come up with real solutions to big problems.

Last month, Gitanjali earned the top prize at the Discovery Education 3M Young Scientist Challenge after she presented her invention – a portable device that can test for lead in water – to a panel of scientists and school administrators from around the country. The water crisis in Flint, Mich., spurred her work.

“What really stands out about Gitanjali is how she exudes passion for making a difference through her innovation,” says Kathleen Shafer, a 3M research specialist in plastics technologies who was paired with Gitanjali over the summer as a mentor. “It was obvious from the first moment I met her,” says Dr. Shafer, who made her comments in an email interview.

For Gitanjali, coming up with an innovative solution is not a new thing – and it’s the reason science is her favorite subject.

“Science allows me to look at approaches to solve the real-world problems out there,” she says in an interview at STEM School Highlands Ranch in Colorado, where she’s currently a seventh-grader.

Not all her ideas have been as practical as the water-testing device. There was her concept, back in second grade, for an automated chair that went underground to save on space. A year ago, she entered the Discovery competition with a snakebite detection device.

This time around, Gitanjali focused on water testing as she learned more about the situation in Flint, Mich. – which she first read about as a 9-year-old – and found out how limited the options were for people to determine if their water was contaminated.

“I hadn’t thought about creating a device until I saw my parents try to test for lead in our water,” Gitanjali says. “I realized it wasn’t a very reliable process, since they were using test strips.” Some strips labeled their water as safe and others showed that lead was present. The more accurate option – collecting samples and sending them in for analysis – was both expensive and time-consuming.

“I wanted to do something to change this not only for my parents, but for the residents of Flint and places like Flint around the world,” says Gitanjali, who lights up with animation and speaks with remarkable poise as she describes the process she went through.

She started with brainstorming. She quickly realized that her initial idea – coming up with a way to remove lead from water, possibly by finding a bacterium that could remove it – wasn’t very practical and might introduce other hazardous chemicals into water. She stumbled onto the idea of carbon nanotube sensors – chemical sensors at the atomic scale – after reading about them on an MIT website, in an article about how useful they are for detecting hazardous gases. When certain ions are introduced into the carbon nanotubes to react with those gases, Gitanjali explains, the molecules in the gases combine with the introduced ion to form compounds, which can then be tested.

The article got Gitanjali thinking: Why couldn’t she use the same idea to test for lead in water? She started researching carbon nanotubes as well as the properties of lead and what sort of chemical would react with it. She also considered options – and settled on an Arduino processor – to receive and transmit the data.

Gitanjali then moved from brainstorming to experimentation. She decided on lead acetate as the most common compound of lead found in water and chloride as the ion she would introduce to react with the lead acetate. Also, she chose to work with “buckypaper,” a thin sheet made from carbon nanotubes that she could fold, cut, and manipulate. Gitanjali then moved to the prototype development phase to bring it all together.

Named for a Greek goddess

The result: Tethys, named for the Greek goddess of fresh water. It’s a small blue housing (Gitanjali built it using her school’s 3-D printer) with computer chips and a battery inside, a disposable cartridge that can be dipped in water, and a Bluetooth device that transmits the data to a phone. A free app (which Gitanjali designed with support from her computer science teacher) gives instant results.

“I’m so impressed with her. Every time I meet with her, she’s already 10 steps ahead,” says Simi Basu, the computer science teacher, who says she pushed Gitanjali to simplify the app and make it user-friendly. “The best thing I love about her: She’s not afraid of failure at all.”

That’s what Gitanjali says she emphasizes most to other children who might want to invent or innovate – that failure is part of the process.

“I always tell everybody who is interested in science and wants to create a device but is worried it won’t work, to not be afraid, to try,” she says. “Failure is just another step to success.”

Roadblocks along the way

In the course of developing Tethys, Gitanjali hit numerous roadblocks – including the fact that her family moved cross-country, from Tennessee to Colorado. Arriving in Colorado over the summer, Gitanjali had been selected as one of the competition’s 10 finalists but had no idea where she could do tests and experiments involving hazardous chemicals. She emailed a chemistry teacher at her new school, a science-focused K-12 charter school, and was told she was welcome to use the school’s labs.

Shafer, her 3M mentor, also helped – not just with developing the device, but also with winnowing her presentation down to five minutes, which Gitanjali says was a challenge. (She ultimately cut 52 slides down to 19 and managed to convey a massive amount of complicated material in five minutes through a clear – but lightning-fast – delivery.)

Shafer notes that she’s a big fan of competitions like this one for the outlet they give students to work on what they’re interested in and to apply skills in a real-world setting. Such competitions also make connections between children and working scientists – perhaps allowing students to envision what a career could look like and see that those scientists aren’t one-dimensional. “I think we sometimes underestimate the power of simply ‘opening the door,’ ” Shafer says.

Guiding lights

Gitanjali is quick to credit not only Shafer and Ms. Basu with helping her, but also her parents, who she says have constantly supported and encouraged her “crazy ideas.” And there’s the scientist who is her inspiration: Marie Curie. Gitanjali loves that Curie discovered two new elements for the periodic table and also “had the courage to perform hazardous experiments” at a time when there were significant risks to doing so.

Along with the honor of winning the competition, which is open to fifth- to eighth-graders, Gitanjali received a check for $25,000, which she plans to use to further develop her device and get production started (her goal is for it to be commercially available within a year). She also wants to donate to the Children’s Kindness Network (an organization that she volunteers for) and save for college.

She already has big plans for the future: studying epidemiology and genetics at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge. And when she’s not experimenting or inventing, Gitanjali loves to fence, swim, bake, and play three instruments – piano, bass guitar, and clarinet.

But she’s already thought of the next challenge she wants to try to solve: the growing problem of adolescent depression. And she has a working concept for what she wants to create (which may involve gene editing and measuring levels of serotonin) – a “happiness detector.”

Erika Rojas shows the tell-tale signs of having seen a tear jerker when she walks out of the movie theater onto bustling Reforma Avenue on a recent afternoon. Bleary-eyed, she clutches a packet of tissues with one hand while dabbing her nose and eyes with the other.

But Ms. Rojas isn’t sad, she says. “I’m just proud. It was so beautiful. Mexico deserves this.”

Nearly a month after its release in Mexico, the new Pixar film “Coco,” out Nov. 22 in the United States, is already the country’s top-grossing animated film in history.

At a time when the US is casting a bright spotlight on Mexico and Mexican-Americans, frequently stereotyping them as everything from drug-runners to overall “bad hombres,” Coco is an animated salve of sorts. It’s a story many hope can shift impressions of Mexico away from the bad and toward the bountiful good.

The story dives deep into one of Mexico’s most cherished celebrations, Day of the Dead, and focuses on universal themes like family and memory, enveloping them in Mexican music, culture, and art.

“It was a very different time when we started making the film [six years ago], but I’m actually … much happier to bring this film into the world now,” says co-director and Academy-Award winner Lee Unkrich. It puts the “positive beauty of Mexico, Mexican culture, and Mexican people” front and center, he says.

In Coco, Miguel, a young boy who dreams of becoming a musician but is thwarted by his extended family, finds himself accidentally traveling into the world of the dead, from which he refuses to return unless he can pursue his love for music. He crosses a bridge of bright marigold petals with his trusty (and dopy) sidekick, a Xoloitzcuintle hairless Mexican dog. They walk against the traffic as hordes of skeletons move toward the land of the living on their way to celebrate with their families, who have set up ofrendas, or altars, honoring their memories and lives with photos, flowers, candles, favorite foods and drinks, and papel picado, cut-paper flags: all for Día de los Muertos, or “Day of the Dead.” 

The film’s attention to detail is part of what has made Coco such a hit here in Mexico. Characters in the Land of the Dead reference famous Mexican artists and icons, both its Aztec and neoclassical architecture are on full display, and, as one viewer wrote on Twitter, “There wasn’t a single cactus” – or someone napping under it, for that matter – in the movie, a common trope when portraying Mexicans, like Speedy Gonzalez, in cartoons.

Day of the Dead has become increasingly hip in the United States, where it’s common to see people with no ties to Mexico or Latin America dressing up and painting their faces as calaveras, or skeletons, for Halloween. But the rich, complex history behind the symbolism isn’t always understood. It’s something Mr. Unkrich, who co-directed the film with Mexican-American Adrian Molina, owned from the start.

He and his team brought in multiple Mexican and Mexican-American cultural consultants to advise on everything from visual representation to music to the script. They made several research trips to towns in the states of Oaxaca and Michoacán to stay with local families and observe Day of the Dead traditions. The nearly all-Latino cast of voice actors also had a say in the dialogue. Mexican actor Gael García Bernal, who voiced the character Héctor in both the Spanish and English versions, at one point told Unkrich that referring to Miguel as muchacho, a Spanish 101 vocabulary word for “kid,” wasn’t quite working for him – how about the much more familiar Mexican term chamaco? Done.

Disney, which owns Pixar, has had a rough track record when it comes to cultural stereotypes and appropriation. Apart from movies like the 1940s-era "The Three Caballeros," with a gun-slinging Mexican rooster who gives rides on a serape blanket, in 2013 Disney tried to trademark the phrase Día de los Muertos. One Mexican-American cartoonist, Lalo Alcaraz, came out hard against the move, creating Muerto Mouse, a calavera-like, Godzilla-looking version of Mickey Mouse who is “coming to trademark your cultura!” Mr. Alcaraz ended up on the team of consultants for Coco.

“We’ve been getting [Mexico] wrong for so long that it has changed cultural perceptions” in the United States, says Frederick Luis Aldama, who teaches about Latin American culture in literature and film at Ohio State University, referring to the reliance on stereotypes in film and popular culture. “Getting it right really matters,” he says. “There’s a chance that it can humanize your neighbors.”

Despite the film’s success in Mexico, the team was nervous ahead of the US release.

“The notion of culture and heritage in the Mexican-American community is distinct from what Mexicans feel in Mexico,” says Marcela Davison Aviles, another cultural consultant on the film. “The expectations are different on either side of the line,” she says, referring to the US-Mexico border.

One thing Ms. Aviles, Unkrich, and others on the team agree on is how the importance of family shines through in “Coco”: a value that, while shown in a uniquely Mexican context, reaches across borders. 

Miguel connects with a handful of his deceased relatives in the Land of the Dead, and starts to grasp the importance of remembering them and talking about them back in the land of the living. Without those seemingly simple actions, like putting up a photo of a dead great-aunt on Day of the Dead, tradition has it, they will cease to exist even in the Land of the Dead, and lose their ability to celebrate with their living loved ones.

Aviles says her hope is that “someone not well acquainted with Mexico will come out [of seeing Coco] with an ‘aha moment’ and say, ‘I had no idea. I had no idea it was the same: That we are all concerned for family, for our place on this planet. We are the same. I’m glad I discovered that.’ ”

AP Photo

Participants march against sexual assault and harassment at a #MeToo March in the Hollywood section of Los Angeles on Nov. 12.

When he proclaimed the national holiday called Thanksgiving in 1863, President Abraham Lincoln did more than ask Americans to be grateful for God’s blessings during a time of civil strife. He also asked them to express “humble penitence” for their “disobedience.” The idea of confessing one’s failings and regretting them is no longer part of Thanksgiving. Yet given the current civil strife over so many public figures being accused of sexual wrongdoing, perhaps humility and repentance should be on the menu this holiday.

So far, almost all of the men in politics, media, sports, and Hollywood who have admitted to sexual harassment or assault did so only after a few brave women made allegations against them in public. The #MeToo movement has now helped lift a social stigma for many abused women while bringing to light past wrongs. Yet “to heal the wounds of the nation” (Lincoln’s words in his proclamation) will require more than remorse and apologies after being accused. It will require those who have abused women and girls (or men and boys) to come forth voluntarily and admit their acts.

Such truth-telling, especially if not done out of fear of being accused, will take as much courage as that shown by the accusers. Those confessing may face severe punishment. Yet to admit a sin, as well as regret it and accept whatever justice or repair is needed, is a step toward destroying its power over one’s self. It may also assist others in doing the same, much like the freedom felt among abused women who, after years of silence, have followed the examples of others who went public with their charges.

Lincoln saw penitence as a path to restore the nation “as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes.” Humility is a form of prayer. It is self-examination that does not change God or others but rather one’s own thinking. It does not come with an expectation of mercy or pardon but rather with a desire for reform and restoration.

The Civil War was a tragedy as much as the sexual harms being revealed today. Yet one lesson of that war should not be forgotten. In the middle of it, Lincoln sought to uplift and heal all sides by declaring a day of thanksgiving, not only with a call for gratitude but also a call for meek admission of wrongdoing.