We’ll meet again; don’t know where, don’t know when


Andrew Do, THO Editor-in-Chief

So are we all writing sappy and sentimental letters to Northwood? Well, to produce a quart of maple syrup you’re going to need ten gallons of sap, but syrup is exactly how I would like to remember my time at Northwood.

Unsurprisingly, it all began in freshman year. Sporting my navy Jansport backpack and regrettable bowl cut, my first day of school wasn’t the best start a freshman could hope for. I remember ducking under intimidating upperclassmen as I frantically tried to piece together the building arrangements, but still ended up tardy to most of my classes. I ate lunch with my middle school friends in the 1200s stairwell and walked all the way over to the gym bathroom during class since it was the only one I could locate. Over time, however, as I developed the ability to memorize my schedule and use bathrooms that were in the same building I was in, I began to see just how open and welcoming Northwood was. Each time I walked into class I was greeted by supportive teachers and peers eager to share and learn, while not eating lunch in a staircase meant I could find new clubs, interests and people every day. My first three and a half years were filled with exploration and excitement, which I am forever indebted to Northwood for.

Then came along the second semester of senior year, a bittersweet end to our final moments here. Our class had the coolest graduation year and held the promise of beginning a new life chapter in a new decade, which quickly devolved into anything but the celebratory time we expected. While we know that no Krispy Kreme deal or Zoom prom could amend everything we anticipated, I suggest that we keep looking forward; instead of brooding over quarantine with pessimism and resentment, we should meet the future with brown sugar boba ice cream bars in hand, filled with excitement and relief while remaining considerate of how our global situation impacts those in more difficult situations. It’ll be a joyous occasion when we’re released from quarantine, but in the meantime, we’ll remain excited for that fateful day and beyond.

But that’s enough with the anecdotes and unfinished food analogies; here are a few words that I, a high school senior, likely don’t have the wisdom to impart.

To the incoming senior class and those to come, I strongly recommend that you cherish every little thing your senior year. In the process of preparing for our futures, we frequently lose sight of the things we love to do. No matter what your plans are, senior year is a period of introspection and clarity like none other; whether you’re writing applications, enlisting in the military or taking a gap year, I feel that it is important to identify and craft the story that describes you, and embrace that story in such a way that it’s inseparable from your person. You won’t necessarily leave Northwood with a clear vision of your future, but securing a foothold on who you are is a great first step. Now, it might not be a Pulitzer- or Oscar-worthy story, but it’s unique and probably Dundie-worthy, at least.

To our teachers, a big thank you for everything. You’ve put up with our late assignments, silly Gen Z trends and a specific Government teacher had to deal with being called a Boomer by a very raucous, but enjoyable, 6th period class. You’ve also been extremely resilient and understanding in a time of confusion for your students, which has made things much easier for us. Though it may not seem like it by the way we groaned at pop quizzes, in-class essays or Spanish presentations, we hold a very deep appreciation for your efforts and care in everything you do.

I know that in a few years we’ll all sit back and reminisce about Northwood. I certainly hope that the disheartening, sappy emotions that we may be feeling right now are converted to a sweet, syrupy nostalgia as we fondly remember our memories here. We’ll be different from when we left and very different from when we first came, but I guarantee that we’ll remember the memories we’ve made here, about half the words to the alma mater and most importantly, what it was like to be a Timberwolf.

Thank you and keep reading The Howler, Northwood; I’ve got a feeling that next year’s staff will blow you away.