My picture is not there. This had to be a mistake; there is no way I am actually seeing this. I scan over the class photos again. Surely, I am going blind. It has to be impossible for a school to not include a student in the yearbook. I read the list of names and stare blankly at my classmate's photos. I am not there. I was left out of my school's yearbook. One of my fondest childhood memories was going through my mother’s high school yearbooks. Nothing could make me grin more than lightly teasing my mother about her puffy, permed hair and peculiar fashions choices as we scanned through those yearbooks together. It was an insight of how my mother looked, what she did, and the kind of person she was at my age. Looking through all of her photos and hearing the stories, I cannot help but wonder if we would have been close friends. I will forever savor these moments with my mother because they brought us closer together. I may not be the student body president, but I am heavily involved in the school. That is what made my missing photo seem so strange. I overhear one girl say, "Oh wow, that is not a good photo of me." Everyone is eagerly flipping through the …show more content…
Being upset would not cause the school the reprint the yearbook, so I knew it was time figure out a solution. There was disappointment because my children will never get the opportunity to laugh at my soon-to-be outdated clothes and hairstyle in my junior year yearbook like I had with my mother. I soon realized that the yearbook is not what my mother and I bonded over. It was undoubtedly entertaining to go through her yearbooks, yet the cherished memories mean more because we shared them together. The photos would not hold as much value if my mother did not have hilarious stories and anecdotes to accompany them. In fact, my favorite photograph of my mother in her high school years does not come from the
Walking into Walnut Hills High School right now would have anyone thinking the just walked into the middle of a tornado. Everyone you look there are students running in and out of doors, in and out of cars, and most certainly either turning in missing assignments or retaking tests. There is only one way for you to explain all this ciaos, Senior Year, the year that all teens await with so much excitement and ambition and the year that every single hour long study dates pays off. For the class of 2021 this isn’t just their final year at Walnut Hills this is the year that friends separate and head off to their different university to follow their dreams.
On a yearbook staff, there are staffers and there are editors. Freshman year, since I was just starting out, I was a staffer which is the lowest position. I was so nervous to create my first yearbook because I lacked skills that are crucial to have in order to create a yearbook spread. You need to have photography, people, and writing skills due to all of the interviewing, photo assignments, and stories that go on a spread. I was lucky if one out of a hundred pictures that I took turned out to not be blurry. Anytime I went to go conduct an interview, I was become so anxious and would try everything in my power to avoid interviews. Luckily, I was semi-decent at writing stories. Throughout my whole freshman year I was a nervous wreck, but thanks to the editors, I made very high quality spreads to which I am still proud of to this day. For my sophomore and junior year, I noticed so much growth. I was able to walk right up to a stranger to get any interview done and done well. I was able to go to my photo assignments so confidently and over half of my pictures turned out to be used in the yearbook. My writing skills skyrocketed and I was
Yearbook records the history of the school year. Its shows interesting and fun things students have done throughout the school year. Yearbook shows all the talented kids on the sports teams, Chorus, Band, Avid, Spanish, Art, and Technology. People outside
Growing up most, not all, children are impulsive and think that they should everything their heart desires. When they do not get it they become upset, sometimes throwing temper tantrums. These things can be the newest and greatest toy, having a more sophisticated life, or a parent that is estranged. What they do not know is that it is usually for the best when they do not get everything they want. In Reunion and Everyday Use, readers learn that it does not always turn out the way they think it should when they try to reconnect with the past or try to put the past on display instead of honoring it with love.
My senior year stands out among the rest. Coming into my senior year of high school, I hoped that I would have a nice, quiet, enjoyable, and memorable year. However, it ended up being the worst year ofmy four years in high school. Within the stretch of a week and a half, there were four bomb threats made at our school. On the days of each threat there was a note found in the girls' lavatory.
As our yearbooks are taken from our shelves and our photo albums are cracked open once again, our kids will certainly be curious to ask:
It was the last Saturday in December of 1997. My brother, sister, and I were chasing after each other throughout the house. As we were running, our parents told us to come and sit down in the living room. They had to tell us something. So, we all went down stairs wondering what was going on. Once we all got down stairs, the three of us got onto the couch. Then, my mom said, “ Well…”
Continue to seek out addresses and phone numbers of the classmates. Check the missing classmates list, and
I recollect in ninth grade thinking that it'd be so cool to be on yearbook. Yearbook students knew which classes everybody was in, they knew which kids were into what extracurricular, and maybe above all, they knew everybody at school. From green beans to seniors to personnel,
I transferred at a local highschool nearby, and by nearby I mean two trips on a train. The school was named Silver High Academy. Well, technically I was transferred long ago. It was my first time spending winter here. Anyways, on my way to school, I noticed that a large crowd of freshmen were gathering at the gym, men and girl alike.
My hair was pinned up in a beautiful updo and I was wearing a beautiful green dress. I would sit atop a car and wave to everyone in the crowd as Geneva high school’s senior homecoming attendant. Usually, in the homecoming parade, I would be cheering alongside my fellow cheerleaders, but this year I wasn’t able to. Oh no, there this that feeling creeping back up again. I took a deep breath, and made my way to the car. As I sat in wait for the parade to begin, I noticed all the groups of people that were to walk in the parade. All the little league baseball players, softball players, and cheerleaders. Would they too feel as emotionally distraught as I do for their senior year? I heard the fire truck alarm ring through the air; the parade has begun. As my car moved along, my hand waved in the air. I noticed many of my friends and family. The smiles on their faces and even some tears in their eyes. Their little girl has finally grown up. I forced a smile and pushed back tears. This should be a happy moment, but the sadness overflowed within me. I don’t want this to be the last homecoming I’m ever truly a part of. I don’t want to watch other classes from the crowd. Could I not stay in high school forever? I laughed at that thought, as if I would really want to stay in high school forever. I guess my mother could sense some sadness coming from me, she looked up at me from the passenger side as if to ask me if I’m alright, I give her a reassuring
When I was young, I drew a picture of my mother. It was her standing in a yard with a house in the background. It wasn't our house, and my mother looked like anyone but herself. Dressed entirely in green, with green hair and a green expression on her green face, she stood in front of a green two-story house surrounded by a green landscape. Green was her favorite color, and I wanted to make a surprise out of the drawing for her.
Every Thursday, I report to yearbook after school until three o'clock. My only job was to tag people in photos and to help out with other tasks. Attending yearbook sometimes interfered with school work because sometimes I had to complete
Throughout high school I hadn’t seen all the work that went into homecoming, I just knew it looked great. The night before homecoming I passed the cafeteria on the way to our football game to see that there weren’t any decorations. I went in to see what was going on and I found out that this year there wasn’t a homecoming committee. I then went to the teacher who usually handles those kinds of things to find out what happened. She told me that she would not be setting up this year and decorations would be left to us. Prior to that day, she hadn’t told anyone that help was needed. Knowing this was my last homecoming and something that everyone was looking forward to I had to do something. I returned to help blow up balloons and to put up the
You’ll never know how awful it felt to have to hear the whole class talk about a recent outing, or a movie they all watched together and just sit quiet and have nothing to say. I was always the one who wasn’t there when I could’ve been. By now, you should know I am not the typical teenager who goes out often or wears trendy clothes or eats famous food or knows the latest news about celebrities or even spends that much time on the phone, laptop or someplace else. I’m the type of fifteen year-old who does chores every day, reads a book spare time or not, stays home at every attempt of asking for permission to go elsewhere, and wears hand-me-down clothes. Most times I turned down invitations from friends, because aside from the fact that there were small chances of me being allowed to go, I didn’t have the money in spending. And I wasn’t raised to ask for it from anyone, not even my parents. We were given just what ...