Maria Miller

Editor in Chief

I don’t like writing reflective pieces.  It requires me to look back on a certain period of my life and analyze it until all that’s left is well-constructed sentences.  But if I must, here I go. 

I will take this moment to allude to the most popular circumstances to which most 2012 seniors will typically refer about these four years: 

Bomb threats (mainly Mr. Jarvis breaking up the fight)

Macbooks (Minecraft)

Block scheduling (bad plan)

Mr. Jarvis throwing a cupcake at the wall/microwaving Peeps/pasting a gummy worm on a clock

I believe that covers it.  Now then.  I have loved high school, every minute of it.  Lone Oak is full of fabulous teachers who have taught me fabulous things, but they have influenced me in many ways as well. 

    Because of my teachers, I will enter college (and later my career) with a frightening image forever lurking in the back of my brain:  a tall, white-lab-coated, coke-bottle-glasses-wearing man waving his greasy finger at me while professing repeatedly, “You’ll never get a job!”  Thank you, Mr. Whitley.  You will haunt me for the rest of my artistic life.

    Because of my teachers, I now know that the feared phrase “LESS THAN A MINUTE!” can definitely be ignored if you are in Newspaper.  I now know to never take a cookie without first “taking a hit.”  I now know that syntax is everywhere and escaped it cannot be.  I now know the wrong way to remove cuticles, and I now know that repetition is an effective way to drive in a point.  For this I thank you, Mrs. Carter. 

    Because of my teachers, I can honestly say that I know some history.  Mr. Neel - or should I say, Sir Neel - it was in your class that I first learned to study.  You had high expectations for your students and - I shiver to say it - I really did love your class.  Mr. Jarvis:  in addition to your Peep explosions, I’ll mention that you were one of the better ones at lecturing.  Perhaps it’s because you took care to stupefy Austin Jones every day by shouting the names of various presidents.  But it is what it is.  Too soon?

    Because of my teachers, I learned that you actually can do calculus “just for funsies.”  Mrs. Hinz, your class was a joy.  There is nothing more refreshing than having an excellent math teacher, and you are exactly that.  Oh, and thank you for never responding to my endless puns.  I actually tried to integrate a pun into this paragraph but was unsuccessful.

    I can equate leaving high school to only one thing:  finishing a lab folder.  There is no better feeling than putting in that last conclusion, flipping through all of the pages you have worked so hard to complete, and finally turning it in.  That’s what graduating feels like.  I’ve worked hard my whole life for this moment, and now I’m putting in my last conclusion.  Lone Oak High School, you have been wonderful.  But, finally, it’s time to graduate.  K Bye.