BLUE RIDGE/SCAD A long game of hide and seek
T
here’s always that one guy in every class that keeps to himself, living peacefully in the chaotic mess that is high school. I was that guy once, and no matter how fast I run or how cleverly I hide, the memories will always run deep enough to always be present. That doesn’t mean I should just mope around depressed about it, for now I see it as a way to judge how far I’ve come. The day I realized that is the day I promised to myself that I had to make up for lost time during my upperclassman years. During these two years, I’ve felt as if I was actually a part of something, and for once, I was having fun doing it as well. I can honestly say I don’t remember the real reason as to why I joined journalism to begin with, since putting my words to ink has always been a laborious process for me. I’m comfortable with saying that my work in Z-2 is minimal at best, because it’s true. I’m really just a guy who enjoys to know what’s going on in the news. I am uncomfortable with saying that
I am a writer or a journalist because of journalism. That being said, I have enjoyed spending my time on staff to making new friends, coming out of my shell and furthering my skills in design. I firmly believe that by surrounding yourself with good design it will rub off onto you into every possible corner of your life to the smallest of details, such as the clothes you wear. Whether you want it or not, it’ll affect you. I immediately decided to embrace it wholeheartedly. While everyone else followed Mrs. G’s guidelines to learn InDesign, I dived into the world of Photoshop. I’ll admit that not all of my work has been with good intentions; I’ve had my fun with getting in trouble by trying to measure how much my skills have sharpened. Looking back, it was worth the laughs, but I don’t condone for anyone else to go as far I did. From being named an “honorary freshman” my junior year to becoming a part of a “hippie family” my senior year, I’m forever grateful of Mrs. G for allowing me to walk into the chaotic classroom of Z-2 and, against any reason I can come up with, to let me stay on staff.
STETSON
F
our years, eight semesters, seven classes and countless hours — if you look through the small window into Z-2 you may just see an ordinary classroom at first, but with a closer look you can see the rolly chairs hanging around the room like “satellites” and endless computers. Then as you enter this organized chaos, you can see that it isn’t just a room, but a home where people are allowed to say whatever they want and express themselves through words and Indesign. It is where I grew up and where I became the person I am. Graduating will leave me with so many memories, most of them made within the closed-in walls of the backroom. People always tell me that high school includes the best years of your life and to enjoy them while they last because before you know it, it will be over. Oh, how true that is. While at times I was itching to get out of this place we call school, when I look back, I am filled with both happiness and sadness. Leaving these people who taught me how to be myself and taught me that I can make any moment a
Infamous backroom teaches lesson happy moment will be so hard, but I take with me all the lessons I have learned. As graduation gets closer it is hard to believe that after June 13 I will never again walk down these crowded hallways (always late to class), never again sit down in front of an Apple computer and crack some highly inappropriate jokes with my friends. I will never again have a dance party in the backroom, and I will never again sit through a staff meeting with Mamma G telling us to “settle down.” I will miss these moments that I have been so lucky to have had shared with my fellow newspaper nerds. Mrs. Gorsuch, Mrs. G, Mamma G and behind her back, “Bren,” there are not enough words that Shakespeare could create to explain how thankful I am to have been her student. The first time we met we were taking newspaper pictures, and I hadn’t yet taken her class, but even then the sheer joy I felt to be a part of the newspaper will be something I never forget. I feel like sometimes she forgets how much of an impact she leaves on her students. Her “yerds” and newspaper nerds leave here with the ability to take on the world.
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