The Last Goodbye

The end is finally upon us, eh? Like every year’s end in high school, when I look back, it seems to have gone quick as a jackrabbit and laboriously slowly, all at once. The annual Acada-Welcome in the SAC might as well have occurred when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and yet, my first time saying, “No, I’m a senior” could have been yesterday.

I’m one of those people who can’t fully understand that an end is imminent until long after I’m gone and I have a chance to miss it. I didn’t shed a tear about leaving middle school when I hugged all my friends and favorite teachers goodbye, nor when I walked out of the building for the last time; in fact, my face was graced with a happy little smile. I was onto better things, of course, so the sadness was put off temporarily. The tears only fell after my first week of high school, when I felt overwhelmed and sorry that I hadn’t really told middle school a proper goodbye. And I’m sure the same will happen with high school, and with Academy. I’ll be in my dorm next year, doing what college students do, and then some memory will sneak up on me, about the time Mr. Williams said the world homoerotic, or when Mr. Meyer told the story of his dog Chippers, or when Mr. Field’s little son revealed his wife’s pregnancy to the whole class before the Fields had told anyone else, and I’ll feel a pang of regret or sadness that I’m no longer a part of that world.

And I know I’ll be in classes and make some reference to Howard Zinn, Jared Diamond, Emily Style, or Tim O’Brien, and when everyone stares back at me with a funny look, I’ll know I’ve truly left. I guess that’s all a part of graduating, which is not necessarily a bad thing. But I have this overarching fear, you see, that I’ll come back to visit high school on break, and when I greet my teachers, their eyes will reveal that they don’t remember me, despite the warmth of their welcome.

I don’t want to be forgotten. And as a corollary, I want to be remembered as someone who really cared, about learning, about my friends, and about my time spent in those poster-filled classrooms. Because I truly, truly did. I will always remember every one of my Academy teachers for the relationships we’ve developed and for how much I’ve learned from them, taking something different from each amazing year of instruction. I’ve been taught to question everything and to challenge ideas, others’ ideas, my own ideas. I’ve grown more than I thought possible, and I admire everything my Academy teachers and classmates have achieved and will achieve. So to be forgotten would be at odds with how I feel—I will always be an Academite, I just don’t want the Academy to leave me behind, to say goodbye to me. But deep down, I know that my relationships with each teacher and student were strong enough to withstand the test of time. We started the year off in English class with an exploration of memory, stories, and truth. Now, as the end approaches, the truth is that I'll remember the stories of moments from Academy for the rest of my life.

So any future freshman questioning whether the Academy would be the right fit for them, my answer is simple: no matter where you start, Academy will become a part of you as much as you are a member of Academy. Your classmates will become your family, your teachers will inspire you, and you will remember those four years for the rest of your life. Without a doubt, joining Academy was the single best decision I made in my four year high school career.

Thank you, Academy. I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me.