Journalism saved my life. I remember sitting in the back of my Modern Biology class each day in sophomore year, headphones shoved into my ears blasting emo music, trying not to concentrate. If I focused enough on the fact that germs surround us, touching every surface and floating around inside me, I would have an anxiety attack. That’s what having obsessive-compulsive disorder gets you. But then, I would walk over to Mrs. Mundorf’s room, and my mood would turn around. I remember the first news article I wrote in Journalism 1; it was about the Dear Evan Hansen movie, new at the time. I read it aloud to the class from my spot in the back left corner of the room, and Mundorf said she didn’t have any corrections or criticisms for my article, despite me being completely new. She might not remember this at all, but it stuck with me for all three years I’ve been involved in Journalism. This simple interaction flipped my career path and goals, and if I hadn’t stuck with it, I would be going into Pre-Med and I could have still been the depressed kid that I was in 2021, because as we know, being a doctor means dealing with germs, which, as we know, I am massively afraid of. What I’m trying to say is that this one sentence spoken by Mundorf saved my life, my hope, and my entire future.

     I’m one of the few seniors who must return to school after graduation to finish the yearbook. You would think I’d be upset about this, but I’m not too angry, because it means I get to spend a few more days with my Journo fam. Still, I worry about my future away from this little newsroom I call home. What if I go to college and join the newspaper, and there are no Barbie dance parties, potlucks to bring my famous meatballs to, or tampon holes in the ceiling? There’s no Mrs. Mundorf at college. There’s no squished broadcast setup in the corner of Mrs. Wennekamp’s room at college. There’s no carpooling to get business ads and accidentally driving to the other end of town while listening to Taylor Swift against my will at college. As much as it kind of hurts to admit it- I’m going to miss high school.

     This year especially went by fast because I was involved in so many projects. Being the yearbook and broadcast editor alone takes up hours daily, but I also made documentaries, produced videos for the district, started a yearbook club at a middle school, worked a job, took college classes, and somehow didn’t die. Last year, I was awarded third place in Videographer of the Year across all high schools in Iowa, and this year I was first place. I’ve gotten several yearbook and broadcast awards alongside academic and community awards. I feel accomplished, yet burnt out. And because I’m so burnt out, I’ve decided to go straight to college with a double major after working full-time all summer, because I can never just appreciate how hard I’ve worked. Praising myself for doing all this feels wrong despite me recognizing that I don’t do it enough, so I’m going to awkwardly change subjects and praise other people for their work this year instead.

     Joslynn. I am so proud of how far you’ve come in so little time. You learned how to edit broadcast videos in only a few weeks. I am so happy to pass the torch to you because you already have an astounding amount of potential and skill. Don’t be too hard on yourself next year like I was this year. Being the broadcast editor is a weekly pressure, but I know you can handle it. I am extremely confident that you will make a wonderful editor and future news anchor, even if you can’t pronounce names during birthdays.

     Emalee. Thank you for being the creative and mental support I needed during my hunchback-headphoned-yearbook process this year. I was probably a stressed-out jerkwad sometimes, so thank you for putting up with that. Thanks to everyone for putting up with that, but especially you. I couldn’t have done it without your ideas, everything from the rejected to my now-favorite parts of the yearbook.

     Mundorf. Not only did you save my life, but you also had to put up with my perfectionism through one year of middle school and three years of high school, which is an accomplishment of its own. This is where I thank you for getting all the yearbook pages back that I made a dumb mistake on. This is where I thank you for fixing captions that I didn’t notice had grammatical errors. This is where I thank you for searching through every single photo we took this year for cutouts, just for me to tell you they wouldn’t work. I think you spent the same amount of, if not more time staring at Yearbook Avenue than I did as the editor this year. You have an insane amount of dedication to this project, probably more than you should have. My awards are your awards. My accomplishments are all thanks to you for giving me the skill and opportunity to achieve them. There are no words, only tears, to describe how thankful I am for you this past year.

     I want to keep going on and on about how much I’ll miss Journalism, and I most definitely could, but I don’t want to make more work for Mila (also coming back after graduation) and Katelyn. I love my Journo fam so much. Thank you for allowing me to thrive in a place I never would have considered if not for randomly taking a class one day. That being said, my advice to others? Try something new, even if you’re an older high school student, because it may just be your true purpose in life. Alexa, play “Next Semester” by Twenty One Pilots.

     “Can’t change what you’ve done, start fresh next semester.”