I have never been a huge fan of drastic change. However, when it is as inevitable as a high school graduation, I know all I can do is sit back and reflect on my time in the space I have called a model home. 

Parker: Thank you for allowing me to grow, develop, and change, emotionally and physically, in your hallways. The past 14 years have been filled with an array of hand paintings, worksheets, plays, and traditions, for which I would never exchange. It is no joke to be in one place for so long, and while I am beyond excited for a new beginning, it is bittersweet for my time to be put to an end. Dr. Frank, thank you for being a recipient of many of those paintings, and for staying a component of my becoming. 

Each year that went by came with new development. Consequences good and bad demonstrated to me how a strong work ethic is critical to success. IPads turned into MacBooks, pencils turned pens, and long nights on Facetime studying to late nights where my Gmail bubble was not the only one seen on the assignment Google Doc, felt like an unspoken bridge between myself and classmates. 

I am proud of the learner I have become, and I am forever grateful to the teachers and administrators who presented themselves as role models and did not only hear, but listen to me speak endlessly. I can’t express enough how seen I have felt from the majority, and I can only hope the future classes feel a similar sensation. It is a gift to have a voice, and in a small community there should be no alternative than to be loud. 

The words I have written in class have molded me into the writer I am today. Bringing these skills with me to outside the classroom have landed me a multitude of opportunities I am not otherwise sure I would have initially discovered, and a longstanding love of journalism. To the future generations of EIC’s: stay perseverent, and say what needs to be said, not what’s desired to be on print. 

One of Parker’s attributes that drew my parents to send my siblings and me here was the student teacher ratio. The smallest class I ever had was sophomore year, and there were nine of us–I never have had as much fun as I did listening to banter and partaking in presentations. I have a weird attachment to my past courses: shoutout to Mrs. Hoffman, Mr. Mahany, Mrs. Druger, and Mr. Conlon who all had me as an underclassman and then again as an upperclassman. 

Friendships fluctuate, however I am thankful for the people who will walk the graduation stage beside me. Some of you have been along for the ride since day one, while others have come and gone like a sunny day. I am looking forward to the future and discovery of where we all end up, many of us gravitating out east (see you there!). Each person in our class of 84 brings something new to the table, many of which has granted us an entertaining past four years of Upper School. Even those who have gone come visit, and I know it will have passed by now, but I’m sure when our Little Siblings hand us our keys to the house, that feeling of nostalgia that I at least have been avoiding, will hit me like a truck. 

Mrs. Greenie: I heard a rumor that when your first grade students walk in on the first day of school, you predict the human they become by graduation. I hope I became the woman you sought me out to be, flaws included with promise. 

Looking out the courtyard windows season by season is something I will miss. Chicago winters, however beautiful as they might be, are freezing and for some reason neverending, but I forgive them each year when the tulips bloom on Clark, and the water fountain springs high. Shutting classroom windows because the Lower Schoolers are playing outside, and then remembering that was once myself is liminal. I don’t feel as if I have grown up so much, but here I am writing a farewell. 

Mahany Advisory: Thank you all for the endless conversations and chaos. There was not one day I wanted to skip out on spinning in Mahany’s good chair or drawing on the chalk board. Coffee walks and MX periods were my favorite––unwanted laughter included. Mr. Mahany, all I have to say is thank you for everything. We’ll find a way to update each other’s current reads.

The library hallway: Thank you for being a safe space and a home for me and my friends. You have heard too much and not seen enough, yet I made some of my best memories in your presence. Promposals, tears, forgotten tests, and endless laughter now live in your carpet.

This is where the surrealness kicks in… I wish I never had to say goodbye to my friends, but “c’est la vie.” You know who you are, and I wish nothing but success for you and all your aspirations. May they all come true, and I can’t wait for the Thanksgiving debrief. 

I do not have space to thank you all, though I wish I could thank everyone who had a microscopic impact on me. Therefore, this last note is for my parents: thank you for the immense support you have granted me, and the countless nights of help and conversations you have gifted me, and thank you for allowing me to never be seen as too much, but just enough. 

Goodbye 330, and thank you for leading me to 13.