By Noah Shifter
Graduating Co-Editor-in-Chief
When I was a kid, I was completely obsessed with “Phineas and Ferb.” I’ve watched all four seasons, and each episode follows the same basic formula. Every day of summer, the boys decide to make dreams come true by making incredible inventions and having unforgettable adventures. Then, their creations would be inexplicably swept away by one thing or another, leaving a clean slate and a blank canvas for the next day.
For a long time, I accepted their routine as normal enough, but as I’ve thought about what ending my senior year really means, I’ve realized that Phineas and Ferb were extraordinary not only in their creative genius but in their ability to let go.
During my time here, in Rampage, in ASB and in my classes, I’ve tried my very hardest to build something incredible. Along with everyone else, I’ve built friendships, knowledge, respect and success. But now that it’s time to move on I feel reluctant to move past what I’ve built—and what many others have built— because the greatest thing that we’ve created is a community. Moving on and leaving means leaving the people I love all around me.
It means leaving behind the Rampage room and all of the people inside of it, the always-messy ASB room and the years of hard work and laughter that have filled it. It means leaving the teachers and friends who have supported me and shaped me—shaped me into the person that now has to move on.
These past months, I’ve slowly come to the realization that I actually do need to leave. Somewhere in my unconscious, I think I believed that I would always live the same life, but even writing this last reflection has forced me to admit to myself that I am moving on.
However, even as I leave, I leave a legacy. That legacy includes things like the Club MVP award, ASB’s new slushie machine and working towards the new school year schedule, but also something much more important: the people I’ve been able to help, comfort and lift to new heights.
I’ve focused on creating something that will improve our community, even after I have to leave, and I believe that the people we leave behind are the most important legacy we have. To everyone that I’ve managed to make some kind of impact on, know that you are the most important thing I’ve done here, and know that I pray for you and your future regularly.
Phineas and Ferb’s creations were taken away every day, simultaneously undoing the work they had done and setting the stage for the next day’s adventures. They regarded what they built with fondness, but always had an eye on the present moment and the infinite opportunities of the future. As the time comes for me to leave this community that I love so much, I look back on the memories we’ve made affectionately, but I also recognize that it’s finally time to move on—to the next day, the next thing to build. The next adventure.
Thank you all for what you’ve given me and what you’ve made me. After three years of writing, I think I’m finally out of words, so I’ll end with what must always come at the very end—goodbye.