By Ryan Herron
Dear Class of 2016,
As the school year continues to dwindle down from 180 school days at the start to a mere sixteen days now, nostalgia starts to kick in. For us, these are the last sixteen days that we will ever walk the halls of LCHS as students. These halls have been a home for many of us for the past six years, for thirty-three percent of our lives.
Upon graduating on May 27th, we will never hear the ring of the bell at 7:45 in the morning and 2:42 in the afternoon, the sound that signals both the grueling seven hours ahead and the freedom that follows. The place that we have spent countless hours at, waking up every weekday morning to attend, will be nothing more than a building located at the bottom of Foothill to visit once every so often.
We will never again be the students attempting to cheer for our football team, nor the students losing our minds as Kristina Kurdoghlian hits a buzzer beater that causes us to storm the court in pandemonium. We will never travel two hours to a basketball gym to fill a gym with the chaos of LC fans so that we can cheer on our girls’ basketball team.
For the athletes, we will never again adorn ourselves in the maroon and gold colors that we once so proudly wore. We will never again our lace up our shoes, step out onto the court, and be bonded together under the school on the front of our jersey.
We will never again dress up on assembly days, or flaunt those glorious crowns that signified us as seniors and gather our friends together to take photos or file into the stands in the back right corner of the gym, listen to Mikey, Jesse, and Lauren come out on the court, and swing our hands back and forth as we shout, “Seniors, seniors, seniors.”
We’ll never again see Chamber walk out in a straight line, circle around center court, sing the alma mater, and then hear the words, “Go straight to your third period.”
We will never again sit with our friends at lunch in the quad and discuss the day’s newest gossip or attempt to sneak out of the parking lot while evading the eyes of Mr. T or cringe at the cafeteria food or watch our friends force themselves to eat it as a means of survival.
We will never again hear that electric shocking sound in the middle of class and silently erupt with excitement as we realize that the fire alarm means that we can leave class or see the halls fill with students as we slowly file down to the football field, never really knowing where our class actually meets or if we’re supposed to go to our second period.
We may never see Tanya and her little bird in front of the school, the trio of McFeat, Mr. Cartnal, and Dr. Gold walking around the quad, or Mr. Torres and his beloved slicked back hair-suit combo standing by his door. Or hear the enthusiasm of Mr. Beaty, feel the wrecking power of Mrs. Pelletier, or immerse ourselves in the passion of Mr. Lively. We may never again witness the unintentional belittling power evoked by the mere presence of Mr. V.
All of these things have been mere motions that we have repetitively gone through day after day. In sixteen days, they will be gone. In three months or so, we will be gone, off in another place, with other people, enrolled in a different school. These things that we have merely taken for granted are already becoming nostalgic memories of the past. We may never see some of our peers or teachers again.
This is it, Class of 2016. Our time has almost come. The curtains will be closing and we will be thrust into the darkness of independence brought upon by college. Sixteen days will be gone before we know it, so let’s make these last moments some of the most memorable times of our high school years.
The Guy Who Always Updated You On The Number Of Days Left in School
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