Dear East High School:
This isn’t the way I expected it to end. And I know this isn’t the way you expected it to end, either.
Our last time together was Friday, March 13, the night of East Side News’ spring Coffee House. I didn’t know that it would be the last night.
I thought that we had at least another week or two together. Or if not that, I thought that I’d surely be back by now to say goodbye, goodbye to all the teachers who inspired me, goodbye to all the friends who were there with me for the ride, and goodbye to all the staff who works tirelessly everyday to give our school the infrastructure our students need to succeed.
But here I am, sending WITSmails from my laptop and texts from my phone in between Zoom classes, trying to find the right words to say, even though I know that no words can replicate a good hug (yes, I’m a hugger). Alas, at least for the foreseeable future, there’s no other way to do it, so here goes.
I came to East wide-eyed, enthusiastic, ambitious, excited for the journey of high school. My freshman year was everything I hoped it would be: fun teachers, interesting classes, new friends, freedom from the confines of middle school. I enjoyed many free periods that year laughing with my friends in the Commons over chicken wraps.
Then in sophomore year, I had some sort of attitude shift. For whatever reason, most days that year went like this: I would scroll through social media during class time, then at night, I would frantically cram to make up for what I had ignored the teacher saying. I had my share of conflicts and disagreements with other students, and reacted to those incidents in ways that I probably shouldn’t have.
Call it teenage rebellion, the stresses of taking too many APs, or something else — I’m not really sure what it was, but I was disillusioned. I didn’t want to go to school. For a period of time, I hated East.
I’m lucky that through that year, there were teachers and friends that stood by my side and understood that the bad attitude which I exhibited at times didn’t reflect my true character. And I’m sorry to anybody that I made angry that year — if you’re reading this, it really wasn’t personal; I was just immature.
Then came my junior year. By that time, I had the sense to break out of my facade of being “too cool for school” and embrace my inner nerd. That year, I was a model student (although I’m aware that there is inherent bias in judging myself). I kept my phone shut off during school hours. I reminded myself that I didn’t have to argue with my friends every time we had different opinions. I greeted my teachers with a smile and a wave at the beginning of each period. And I incessantly asked them questions, so many questions.
It’s ironic that at this time in which I am preparing to officially leave East, my love for East is the greatest it has ever been.
Throughout that year, I still hated East — or so I thought. I told myself that my new attitude was just a way to survive the year.
But as the end of that year drew closer and I began to make plans for the summer — research, working out, travel — I felt like my plans were missing something. Then I realized that what they were missing was East High School (I know that’s super corny, don’t judge). The 7:00am orchestra rehearsals, in which Mr. Moose somehow motivated us to overcome our sleepiness and play with more passion than we had previously perceived to be possible. The 9:30am gossip in the back tables of the library, as Mr. Hurley told us to quiet down. The 12:45pm live physics demonstrations from Mr. Belling, complete with bowling balls and sound effects. The 3:00pm newspaper club meetings where we’d discuss politics while stuffing our mouths full of bagels with Mrs. Lanzone and Mr. Huber.
And that brings me to my abridged senior year. Now more than ever, I’m missing all those things, because unlike last spring, I know that I won’t ever get to experience them again.
And the thing is, I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them. It’s one thing to let something go with a proper goodbye, hugs and kisses and tears and all. It’s something else when it just abruptly leaves you, due to circumstances beyond anybody’s control (I’ll leave the talk about Mr. Trump’s handling of this crisis offline).
It’s ironic that at this time in which I am preparing to officially leave East, my love for East is the greatest it has ever been.
And even after years of AP English classes and dedication to East Side News, a clever ending to this last article, the culminating work of my high school journalism career, eludes me.
So, I guess I’ll use the test-taking advice a teacher once told me: If you can’t think of a clever response to a question, then at least put down a simple, obvious response — more often than not, it’s the right one.
So, goodbye, East. Thank you for all the good times we had together. I’ll miss you. I really will. And I’ll be back.
Best,
Gabe Guo
