Almost four years ago I entered the hallways of Winston Churchill High School, a shy, timid 14-year-old new to public school and full of the ideas and promises I had accumulated from movies and TV shows. I still remember the fear and trepidation coursing through my veins as I walked into the building for the first time into a sea of complete strangers. I braced myself for the next chapter of my life and, needless to say, the media had lied to me.
Spoiler alert, high school is NOT as it’s portrayed in “Grease,” “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” or even “High School Musical” (all personal favorites of mine to this day). The picturesque, stereotypical and drama filled atmosphere that I was promised would dominate my high school experience didn’t quite come to pass. Don’t get me wrong, the past few years have had their fair share of drama, crazy adventures and funny stories, but what I have come to learn is that none of these are the true defining features of high school (sorry “Mean Girls”). No, the hallmark of high school is change; constant change.
And while most of this change was gradual, happening so painstakingly slowly it is only recognizable now that we are nearing the end of this formative experience, we were all constantly growing, evolving and learning more about ourselves and each other. 14-year-old me could never have imagined the scope of change I would undergo during my time in high school and what I certainly did not realize that fateful day almost four years ago was that Journalism, which began with a “fun” spelling test administered by Ms. Zitnik, would become one of the true constants during my time at WCHS.
Every semester, regardless of year or overall class rigor, there was one predictable slot in my schedule: “Pubs Edit/Biz, Zitnik, Room 243.” No matter what was happening in my life, what drama was brewing or stress was hanging over me, I knew that I could walk into this bleak, windowless room where time seems to stop and conversations flow, and feel comfortable. I could always count on the stress of looming article deadlines, the hours spent in production and the amazing people on staff to be a part of my ever evolving high school experience.
And yet, my involvement in The Observer has been its own source of change: pushing me to become a better writer, editor and ultimately leader. From Radical Writes, to getting my first article published, to writing over 34 published articles and becoming Editor-in-Chief, I truly cannot imagine who I would be without this incredible publication and community. I am so thankful for the skills I have garnered, amazing friends I have made and memories I will forever cherish from my time here. How could I forget, of course, the great(?) opportunity to write the monthly Paws For Thoughts articles with Ceci despite the constant defamation (although, yes it’s true, a barbell really did fall on my head and I did actually have to get 13 stitches in the ER).
Thank you to every person on staff, both currently and throughout all four years of my time in the J. To every staff member I have had the pleasure of sharing a classroom with, thank you for the tremendous impact you have had on my high school experience. Thank you Ceci for being the best co-EIC I could have ever asked for; for putting up with my (amazing) jokes, late night calls and texts and constant bickering. Rebecca, thank you for putting up with my rants and interior decor ideas and always making sure I stayed locked in (or “clenched up,” as some might say), especially in Stat. Catherine, thank you for always answering my math questions, stressing over tests with me and engaging in my (often inane) conversation starters. All my fellow Observer seniors, thank you for always being there for me and each other and for locking in one last time (as hard as it was!) to get this issue printed. Last, but certainly not least, thank you Ms. Zitnik for being the best possible advisor any of us could have ever asked for. Please know that this paragraph falls short of expressing my true gratitude for every person mentioned and the many I didn’t mention by name. I have unfortunately run out of both page space and writing time as I rapidly type out this article amidst cramming for AP exams and trying to survive senior assassin.
It is hard to believe that after all the blood, sweat and tears (literally), The Observer will become a memory; that I will no longer see my fellow staff members every day in the room I have spent who knows how many hours pondering life and stressing over upcoming articles, tests and projects. They say the end of high school doesn’t truly sink in until you walk across the stage, but for me it’s writing my last article for this amazing newspaper. I am eternally grateful for the time I have spent on The Churchill Observer and the special place room 243 will forever hold in my heart.
