Dear Class of 2016,
I don’t like change. I don’t like moving, or losing friends, or getting rid of my books. The fact that the 13th street Freddy’s rearranged itself kind of stresses me out. I don’t like thinking about all of us being spread out all over the place.
But at the same time, endings mean new beginnings. Out with the old, in with the new. Every time you finish a book you can start a new one. (That being said, I’m the kind of person who reads like four books at one time instead of waiting to finish them because I am impatient.) When people leave your life, there is space for others to come in. And it’s not the same, no. But different doesn’t mean bad.
I think our class knows that. “We’re not the same, we’re different in a good way,” to quote High School Musical. We don’t mind joking about the difference in our backgrounds and talents. That being said, it’s not like we were shoved into a box. We were encouraged -- usually by each other -- to refuse to “stick the status quo,” whether that be the Troy Boltons in Singin’ in the Rain or the fact that Will and Ethan played basketball freshman year or Elise in Pirates of Penzance, and all sorts of other overlappings in clubs and activities. We were allowed to try new things and meet other people who were different from us.
I’m so glad we’re different. I’m glad we have Keri, who’s funny and a great writer; Sarah, who’s organized and classy and optimistic; Emery, who’s good at soccer and makes us laugh in Stats; Kaleigh -- both Kaylees, Kris, Claire, Mitchell and Hannah and Lulu and Josh and Ashlyn and Tarrance and Lexi and Caleb and I can’t keep naming everyone, I don’t have time.
I remember listening to the Les Miserables soundtrack with Ellen in Mr. Grissom’s class freshmen year and wanting to be her friend -- funny how things work out. I remember sitting in the sound booth during Intro to Theater with Abby Grier and Will Morris. I remember the limo ride to freshman year homecoming with a super random group with our music blasting, shaking off our slightly nervous anticipation of our first high school dance. I remember jumping on the big, bouncy mattress that made up Antarctica at Homecoming, and giggling every time Jost or Mr. Brewer walked past, terrified that we would get in trouble. I remember Romeo and Juliet vividly, of course. I remember… well, perhaps I shouldn’t confess to sleeping in Biology. I remember staying up late working on the Around the World Day skit in Julia’s front yard. Everyone said freshmen always get last, and we -- in a spirit of rebellion that stuck with us through the years -- obviously had to prove them wrong. We succeeded and didn’t get fourth place once that week, quite possibly out of pure determination.
Sophomore year rolled around with far more angst and homework. Mrs. B’s desserts and prayers got us through chemistry tests, Algebra II, and Red Badge of Courage. I think maybe six people in the whole class of 2016 actually read that book. Props to those six, because I didn’t make it. It was a rough year, academically, relationally, mentally. But we made it out, kids. We survived. And not everything was bad. I am so grateful for sixth hour apologetics, for curling up with blankets and talking about everything from boys to God to hell to homework to creation to dress code rules. I am so grateful for the chance to be open and real and to build relationships with that totally random but wonderful group of girls. It was relaxing and renewing and fabulous. I'm grateful for getting to live my childhood dream and dance in the "Marian the Librarian" number. (What can I say? It’s my two favorite things -- libraries and musicals.) Also, I’m told sports were really good that year. Congrats.
Junior year, for me at least, didn’t start out with much hope. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have come back if it hadn’t been for the Bible class sophomore year and the friends I’d made through it. But junior year surprised me, a lot. Philosophy was challenging and fascinating. Mr. Mueller obviously won us over without much struggle. Mr. Hendley’s enthusiasm about pre-calc was very nearly contagious -- don’t worry, I wasn’t infected. We had the first Poetry Slam, which was brilliant and full of talented poets. Pirates of Penzance was incredibly fun -- swooning over Will as the sisters, laughing offstage during the “Sighing Softly to the River” as the Pirates interpretively danced across the stage, learning four-part harmonies, and having that marvelous, wonderful cast. We downright killed Spirit Week that year, with Abby and Ethan singing “Don’t Stop Believin’” and our Finding Nemo skit and Holywood and Les Miserables. And then prom was the bomb.com. I think it had a lot to do with the fact that we were a lot more mature and confident and willing to have fun. And Grant Boesen was an amaaaazing DJ. A Little Knight Music was brilliant, with the Jared and Co. singing “Crocodile Rock” and Maddie and Ellen soloing in “Mama Who Bore Me.” Those were so good.
And then this year… Golly.
This year is over. This year, with the ridiculously long bus ride back from senior trip, with the utterly amazing Man of La Mancha, with our senioritis-filled AP Stats class. With questions and college applications and choices. We had cookie time, bonfires, Government and Music Theory -- well, I guess that last one only applies to three of us. The rest of you missed out. This year, with papers and theology and seeing the end of our time in uniforms and choir dresses and sports uniforms (jerseys? Guys, in four years you’d think I would have learned this stuff.)
This year, back where we began, with Mrs. Posson and Mr. Grissom. There’s something very poetic about that, about coming full circle.
I want to thank you, class of 2016.
Thanks for being there, together, through the good times and the bad.
Oh, we didn’t -- don’t -- always get along. No. But no one always gets along. I’m sure even Elise and Sarah must disagree sometimes.
But we did it. We made it through.
Thanks for growing up a little, and for letting me grow up with you.
Thanks for letting me go from the shy, annoyed, culture-shocked girl I was to the girl I am now.
Thanks for helping me be brave, whether that be by dancing (badly) at homecoming or trying a sport (also badly). Thanks for letting me come to your houses, for listening to me talk about books that you don’t care about, for helping me with homework, for making me laugh when I’m grumpy, for inspiring and challenging me. Thanks for being good at things that I’m not, for putting up with me when I’m being a know-it-all, for including me in everything from picnics to Ultimate Frisbee to movie nights to swimming. Thanks for the food, and laughter, and memories that last forever.
I'll miss so many little moments. Late night tea at Kris's house and talking about everything. Laying on Devin's trampoline with eight people and two blankets until three in the morning. Poetry nights. Third hour off and doing homework and lunch with my favorite people. Screaming when "Jenny" comes on at prom. Going to lunch with Julia, Kellie, Emery, and Kaylee. Praying with Abby before every show -- texting or calling each other when we're in different shows. Hanging out in the catwalk or sound booth with Hailey. Laughing at Maclaine's quick wit. Voice lessons with Mrs. Henderson. Dance parties in Newspaper. Cuddling in sixth hour apologetics. Falling out of Maddie's truck. Hearing Tarrance sing. Staying up late and talking with the M&M girls in our crazy hot cabin in Nicaragua. Bonding with David over The Name of the Wind. Quik Trip walks. Pranking Mrs. Posson. Hearing Mrs. Warren's stories at swim meets.
It's been four years of papers, of late nights, of math homework and Netflix and friendships and musicals and spirit weeks.
Four years of learning about myself and about other people.
I've loved the parties and the trips and classes (well, some of them).
But this group of people I have been privileged enough to call friends... They are what have made the tuition, the time, the tears worth it.
You’re a slightly rebellious, messy, random group of humans.
And I love you and am so thankful that this is the rebellious, messy, random group of humans I’ve spent the past four years with and now step into the future with.
Thanks for everything, fam.
I don’t like change. I don’t like moving, or losing friends, or getting rid of my books. The fact that the 13th street Freddy’s rearranged itself kind of stresses me out. I don’t like thinking about all of us being spread out all over the place.
But at the same time, endings mean new beginnings. Out with the old, in with the new. Every time you finish a book you can start a new one. (That being said, I’m the kind of person who reads like four books at one time instead of waiting to finish them because I am impatient.) When people leave your life, there is space for others to come in. And it’s not the same, no. But different doesn’t mean bad.
I think our class knows that. “We’re not the same, we’re different in a good way,” to quote High School Musical. We don’t mind joking about the difference in our backgrounds and talents. That being said, it’s not like we were shoved into a box. We were encouraged -- usually by each other -- to refuse to “stick the status quo,” whether that be the Troy Boltons in Singin’ in the Rain or the fact that Will and Ethan played basketball freshman year or Elise in Pirates of Penzance, and all sorts of other overlappings in clubs and activities. We were allowed to try new things and meet other people who were different from us.
I’m so glad we’re different. I’m glad we have Keri, who’s funny and a great writer; Sarah, who’s organized and classy and optimistic; Emery, who’s good at soccer and makes us laugh in Stats; Kaleigh -- both Kaylees, Kris, Claire, Mitchell and Hannah and Lulu and Josh and Ashlyn and Tarrance and Lexi and Caleb and I can’t keep naming everyone, I don’t have time.
I remember listening to the Les Miserables soundtrack with Ellen in Mr. Grissom’s class freshmen year and wanting to be her friend -- funny how things work out. I remember sitting in the sound booth during Intro to Theater with Abby Grier and Will Morris. I remember the limo ride to freshman year homecoming with a super random group with our music blasting, shaking off our slightly nervous anticipation of our first high school dance. I remember jumping on the big, bouncy mattress that made up Antarctica at Homecoming, and giggling every time Jost or Mr. Brewer walked past, terrified that we would get in trouble. I remember Romeo and Juliet vividly, of course. I remember… well, perhaps I shouldn’t confess to sleeping in Biology. I remember staying up late working on the Around the World Day skit in Julia’s front yard. Everyone said freshmen always get last, and we -- in a spirit of rebellion that stuck with us through the years -- obviously had to prove them wrong. We succeeded and didn’t get fourth place once that week, quite possibly out of pure determination.
Sophomore year rolled around with far more angst and homework. Mrs. B’s desserts and prayers got us through chemistry tests, Algebra II, and Red Badge of Courage. I think maybe six people in the whole class of 2016 actually read that book. Props to those six, because I didn’t make it. It was a rough year, academically, relationally, mentally. But we made it out, kids. We survived. And not everything was bad. I am so grateful for sixth hour apologetics, for curling up with blankets and talking about everything from boys to God to hell to homework to creation to dress code rules. I am so grateful for the chance to be open and real and to build relationships with that totally random but wonderful group of girls. It was relaxing and renewing and fabulous. I'm grateful for getting to live my childhood dream and dance in the "Marian the Librarian" number. (What can I say? It’s my two favorite things -- libraries and musicals.) Also, I’m told sports were really good that year. Congrats.
Junior year, for me at least, didn’t start out with much hope. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have come back if it hadn’t been for the Bible class sophomore year and the friends I’d made through it. But junior year surprised me, a lot. Philosophy was challenging and fascinating. Mr. Mueller obviously won us over without much struggle. Mr. Hendley’s enthusiasm about pre-calc was very nearly contagious -- don’t worry, I wasn’t infected. We had the first Poetry Slam, which was brilliant and full of talented poets. Pirates of Penzance was incredibly fun -- swooning over Will as the sisters, laughing offstage during the “Sighing Softly to the River” as the Pirates interpretively danced across the stage, learning four-part harmonies, and having that marvelous, wonderful cast. We downright killed Spirit Week that year, with Abby and Ethan singing “Don’t Stop Believin’” and our Finding Nemo skit and Holywood and Les Miserables. And then prom was the bomb.com. I think it had a lot to do with the fact that we were a lot more mature and confident and willing to have fun. And Grant Boesen was an amaaaazing DJ. A Little Knight Music was brilliant, with the Jared and Co. singing “Crocodile Rock” and Maddie and Ellen soloing in “Mama Who Bore Me.” Those were so good.
And then this year… Golly.
This year is over. This year, with the ridiculously long bus ride back from senior trip, with the utterly amazing Man of La Mancha, with our senioritis-filled AP Stats class. With questions and college applications and choices. We had cookie time, bonfires, Government and Music Theory -- well, I guess that last one only applies to three of us. The rest of you missed out. This year, with papers and theology and seeing the end of our time in uniforms and choir dresses and sports uniforms (jerseys? Guys, in four years you’d think I would have learned this stuff.)
This year, back where we began, with Mrs. Posson and Mr. Grissom. There’s something very poetic about that, about coming full circle.
I want to thank you, class of 2016.
Thanks for being there, together, through the good times and the bad.
Oh, we didn’t -- don’t -- always get along. No. But no one always gets along. I’m sure even Elise and Sarah must disagree sometimes.
But we did it. We made it through.
Thanks for growing up a little, and for letting me grow up with you.
Thanks for letting me go from the shy, annoyed, culture-shocked girl I was to the girl I am now.
Thanks for helping me be brave, whether that be by dancing (badly) at homecoming or trying a sport (also badly). Thanks for letting me come to your houses, for listening to me talk about books that you don’t care about, for helping me with homework, for making me laugh when I’m grumpy, for inspiring and challenging me. Thanks for being good at things that I’m not, for putting up with me when I’m being a know-it-all, for including me in everything from picnics to Ultimate Frisbee to movie nights to swimming. Thanks for the food, and laughter, and memories that last forever.
I'll miss so many little moments. Late night tea at Kris's house and talking about everything. Laying on Devin's trampoline with eight people and two blankets until three in the morning. Poetry nights. Third hour off and doing homework and lunch with my favorite people. Screaming when "Jenny" comes on at prom. Going to lunch with Julia, Kellie, Emery, and Kaylee. Praying with Abby before every show -- texting or calling each other when we're in different shows. Hanging out in the catwalk or sound booth with Hailey. Laughing at Maclaine's quick wit. Voice lessons with Mrs. Henderson. Dance parties in Newspaper. Cuddling in sixth hour apologetics. Falling out of Maddie's truck. Hearing Tarrance sing. Staying up late and talking with the M&M girls in our crazy hot cabin in Nicaragua. Bonding with David over The Name of the Wind. Quik Trip walks. Pranking Mrs. Posson. Hearing Mrs. Warren's stories at swim meets.
It's been four years of papers, of late nights, of math homework and Netflix and friendships and musicals and spirit weeks.
Four years of learning about myself and about other people.
I've loved the parties and the trips and classes (well, some of them).
But this group of people I have been privileged enough to call friends... They are what have made the tuition, the time, the tears worth it.
You’re a slightly rebellious, messy, random group of humans.
And I love you and am so thankful that this is the rebellious, messy, random group of humans I’ve spent the past four years with and now step into the future with.
Thanks for everything, fam.
