I’m not the best at saying goodbye. Some people say that the best goodbyes are the ones that are left unsaid, but I believe the best goodbyes are the ones that mean we will never truly cut our roots. Jack Kerouac once said, “What is the feeling when you’re driving away from people, and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.” This is not the end, or a goodbye per say, in fact, my life is just beginning. 

After four years in this school, some of you do not know who I am, and that is more than okay. Some of you know me as the editor for the school newspaper, others know me as a cheerleader, some as a band kid and the majority as the girl who is obsessed with F. Scott Fitzgerald. Going into high school, I had no idea who I was going to be. Now that I’m saying my final words, I understand who I am, and I understand just how much high school has helped me find myself. 

I will never forget standing under the Friday night lights, sometimes in the freezing cold. The nights where we couldn’t feel our fingers or toes were never fun at that moment, but those are the nights that mean the most to me. Whether I was down on the track dancing to the fight song, or on the field playing through the pregame music, the feeling of the crowd and the energy in the air is something that I loved dearly. Not only because of the atmosphere, but also because we did it as a team. I spent my Saturday mornings waking up early and going to band practice for the competition that day, making sure to read Vonnegut and Hemingway on the drive there and back. Fridays were spent sitting in classes and anticipating the football or basketball game that would take place in a few hours, listening to the excitement echo off the cement walls. These activities gave me my best friends, and I’m honored to have been able to share my time with them. I spent the majority of my high school career with the girls on the cheer team and the kids in band, and in the end they taught me one thing: You don’t need to be perfect to be loved (paraphrasing Rabbi Harold Kushner), just be yourself. 

I would like to take a moment and thank all of my teachers and counselors. Without you all, I would’ve been a wreck the majority of the time, like Lennie without George, or Gatsby without Nick (I would include Ralph without Piggy but that’s a stretch). I appreciate all the times you’ve laughed at my jokes that even I know weren’t really funny, and I will always remember the way you treated us: you all made us more than your students, thank you for your kindness and generosity. Thank you to all the teachers who pulled coffee cups and Redbull cans out of my white-knuckled grip, and thank you to all the teachers who believed in me. Without you, I wouldn’t be who I am today. 

Writing for this paper taught me extremely valuable lessons, not only in the newsroom, but also in my everyday life. I was blessed with the ability to do something I’m passionate about, and I met some of my best friends along the way. I would like to take this opportunity and thank the reporters for always going above and beyond with all the work they accomplish. Without them, Lantern would not have been possible. 

I would like to leave you with one of my favorite quotes from Ferris Bueller: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” High school is a part of me that I will never forget, because I stopped and looked around while I had the chance. I will always remember the feeling of coming off the field after the first band competition of the season, or publishing my first article. It’s the little things that make high school so unique and unforgettable, but if you don’t stop to look around once in a while, you just might miss it. 

Thank you for being my home for the past four years, I will never forget a moment of it. As Holden Caulfield once said, “Sleep tight, ya morons!”