A goodbye letter from the EiC
Senior year is a time of heavy contemplation, and it is during this time that I retraced my steps to find a conclusive end to my high school adventures. And obviously, a lot of it has to do with my experiences in The Howler.
I came from a family who has the tradition of gathering in the living room whenever there’s a severe typhoon, watching the news to wait for the announcement that with tomorrow there will be sunshine—either in the form of actual clear skies or the brilliant news that there is no school and work tomorrow. So, we would sit together, listening to the ceaseless rain, pitter-pattering away while we chatted, telling jokes to lighten the situation. The sound was so simple, raindrops crashing against metal and concrete, yet it was representative of that rare moment of familial unity in my life.
I thought I would never experience such a moment again when I moved to California with its arid climate and foreign environment. I tried to forget about it, focusing instead on learning English, and once in high school, getting involved in as many extracurricular as possible so I can further discover identity instead of dwelling in my past.
Yet here I am, sitting in the computer pod of The Howler, listening to a nostalgic sound: pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
Who would have thought that the drumming of fingers against keyboards would be so reminiscent of the rain of my childhood! At that moment I just marveled at the group of people that I’ve come to cherish above all else, and how the translation of their creativity onto Google Docs with affectionate insults in the backdrop was the moment that I found my home again. (And, I have to be honest, the moment is a little soured when I found out that a lot of this “typing” is just people aggressively smashing the keyboard playing Super Smash Bros.)
Still, I have to thank you. Thank you for reading: every rustle of the paper being opened by our peers is an affirmation of our hard work. And to my staff, thank you for your dedication that inspires me every day. Your countless hours sacrificed for the sake of bettering our pages is a model that I would strive to live by. And to Mr. Horrigan, thank you for your friendship and care, since those simple, sarcastic conversations with you are one of the only things sustaining my sanity throughout the stresses of high school.
Above all, thank you all for giving me a family. It’s been an honor.