Dearest WS:
We, the editors of The Oracle, want to start this letter by thanking you for an interesting, and life-altering, four years here in this musty, rusty collection of randomly adjoining halls that make up your building.
Your random order of room numbers still confuses us, even as we have spent close to a quarter of our lives here. Yet, that all is forgiven. Despite the all-nighters we pulled, the homework we did (or didn’t) finish minutes before class, and the hectic schedules you have delivered unto us, we have also had the best times of our lives. The friendships we have made we hope to keep intact for the rest of our lives, even when we go our separate ways after graduation.
Though we all love you, not all of your inhabitants do. To many, school is a prison. Doors are locked; windows slammed shut, administrators everywhere, watching us pass between classes. Security may as well wear police uniforms and carry batons. It seems that as the quality of security in the building increases, the quality of the school building itself starkly decreases. At least that’s what most students would have you believe.
We, the editors of your friendly, student-run newspaper, The Oracle, have attended this school for the last four years. We, more so than other students, have served our sentence, done our manual labor and will be the first to tell you that the school has changed since we first came in as pipsqueak freshmen.
We still remember stories from our older friends and siblings about eating food all around the building. Now, we are simply confined to the cafeteria—not even allowed to step foot in Spartan Park. Why the sudden change of heart, oh decrepit building? Could it be due to constricting security measures, like the doors? We still remember when our school first locked its doors, shutting out the beauty of the outside world. We still recall the tearful separation our upperclassmen friends experienced when they found they couldn’t as easily sneak out to get lunch in the middle of the day.
We get it, we really do: You can’t just let people wander out of the school building in the middle of the day, (even if they are legally adults), especially when there is no way to guarantee that those students will come back. So yes, your staff has become more strict, your administration scrupulous. We still love the little things about you, though, like paying for parking and waiting years for renovations—and by the way, we have managed to find the way out of the school and off to a liberating lunch.
As your wondrous editors celebrate the end of the last first semester of high school, we really did want to take a moment and be completely serious. Though your security has cracked down, we want to thank you, from the heart of The Oracle, for four life-changing years. We will keep these memories with us throughout college and into our lives in the real world.
Sincerely,
The Oracle Editors
P.S. We’re off to Chipotle… do you mind getting the door for us when we get back? Thanks.