by Katie Hyde

I’ve loved every minute of high school. Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s probably more accurate to say I’ve loved every other minute of high school. I’m not going to try to convince you I was having a good time when Mrs. Bone wouldn’t call off school when there were about 10 inches of snow on the ground and every student’s Facebook status was begging, “Please, Nan, help a girl out!” I won’t brainwash you into thinking I was having a blast when I received a test back from Mrs. Weller bearing the ominous words “See me.” And I certainly won’t attempt to persuade you that I enjoyed living off of an average of six hours of sleep a night for four years.

However, for every day I spent begrudgingly trudging through a foot of snow from class to class, for every “See me” test I received (there were multiple), for every sleep deprivation-induced meltdown, there are a million wonderful memories.

Smelling Waldo pizza drifting through the hallways. Reading “Heart of Darkness” and crying more at leaving Mr. Himes’ class than I probably will at graduation. Petting Critter and mourning his untimely death. Using the gloriously scented soaps in the third floor Donnelly bathroom. Cringing at the not so gloriously scented Quad in spring. Sprinting down the stairs to open up an issue of the Dart seconds after it arrives on campus. Crossing the line between friendly competition and blood feud with Sion more than once during a sporting game. Worshipping Kathleen Vogel’s right arm. Pranking Mr. Fast every Wednesday on F weeks. Reading the State Championship banners during mass. Running into the open arms of a friend. Eating four (or more) brownies in one sitting and feeling absolutely no shame. Feeling like I’m home.

And now, as I face graduation and The Great Unknown, perhaps too late, I have come to realize that my time here is not defined by the resume I accumulated, the grades I received or the I classes I took. My time here is not defined by my JIP project or how well I can graph a rational polynomial function with two asymptotes and “funky” end behavior.

My time here is defined by each little moment with each one of you, even though some of those moments involved Fs, tears and flesh wounds.

We at STA are kind, we are crazy, we are bizarre, we are beautiful, we are hairy, we are hungry, we are weird and we are utterly perfect.

These past four years have been the most exhausting, exhilarating, hilarious, weird, mind-expanding, challenging and amazing years of my 18-year-old life.

I will miss you so very much.