To say I’m finally here, writing my last story for journalism, is something I never thought I would say. For the past four years, I’ve watched everyone I learned from, friends and not friends, write these senior goodbyes. Everyone has their own way of doing it, and I always wondered what mine would look like, but now that I’m here, I know that there was always only one way to do it, and that’s to honor the people who made this class so special for me. 

     Obviously, there were those upperclassmen who are no longer here. Kalli, Gracie, and so many more made this class the best place to come to every day. Playing Crazy 8, Monopoly Go, and spilling the craziest tea that made my jaw drop are just a few of the things we did that may or may not have entertained Mundorf every day.

     Now, to one of my best friends, the one and only, Joslynn Mehaffy. I couldn’t have survived this class without her. Calling her or getting a call every morning at 10:30 to see if we are awake and gonna make it for A lunch or not is something I’ve taken for granted, but not getting a call from her everyday when we are living five hours apart from each other is probably one of the hardest parts about leaving each other. No matter how annoyed we were with each other, it was the easiest excuse to see each other every day. I don’t know what I’ll do without her to hold me accountable, yell at me to “do school,” and so much more. I love her more than words can say, and I couldn’t have done these past four years without her.

     Now, on to the hardest goodbye of them all. The most inspiring teacher I met when I was just 11 years old, Mrs. Mundorf. She’ll never know how much she’s meant to me for so many years. Journalism wasn’t even something I was interested in, but hearing that she would be my teacher, and I would get to see her every day of every year while in high school, was enough to get me in the class. From there, we developed a relationship that I never could’ve imagined. She became my moral compass, second mom, and biggest hater all in one. She keeps me humble, gives me the angry mom look, yet still gives me the confidence to help mentor a journalism program that wrote the hard stories, even when we knew it would anger some people. Without her, I don’t know who I would’ve become, but she always pushed me to be better, and because of that, I now look for the other people in my life who push me just like she did. 

     Journalism is a family. From the outside, we don’t look like we would be close, and even I didn’t always think I would get along with the people in class, but everything is different in this class. The culture we built wasn’t always the most efficient and functional, but it works for us. So, thank you to those who made this class so special. And because she doesn’t hear it as much as she deserves, thank you to the best teacher in the world, the one and only Mrs. Mundorf.