On the night of September 11, 2013, at exactly 7:15, I stepped into a time machine that would take me to a time I had long since departed, but never forgotten. I stepped back into Miami Springs Senior High, not as a student, but as an alumni.
I thought that 2010 would be the end; that it would be the last time I would step foot in those crowded hallways. In a sense it was the last time for me and for many of the student body, as students, anyway, but many of us would be back. Some would come to help, to teach, to visit, or even to show their younger siblings the
ins and
outs of high school.
In my case, it was Open House.
I was fortunate enough to attend, since my job usually takes up most of my afternoons and evenings, I rarely ever get to attend such events; however, this time was a blessing. I stood in as my sister Kaity's guardian while my mother went of with my brother.
I was a teenager again, rather than a soon-to-be 22 year-old, and giddy with nostalgia. Everywhere I looked and went elicited a memory, from Ms. Ferguson's famous Portable 7, where we read Shakespeare's
Romeo and Juliet to George Orwell's
Animal Farm, to Mother Doyle's Anchor Club.
It was as if nothing had changed; however, I knew that everything had indeed changed. It wasn't the same school that I had attended for four years straight. Many legends had walked those halls and have now moved on. Teachers and staff that I had looked up to were no longer in attendance. Teachers such as: Mrs. Doyle, Ms Ferguson, Mr. Dearing, Ms. Manning, Ms. Campbell, etc... where gone. There was no sign that they had been there, except in Mrs. Doyle's case, for she was the heart and sole of the Anchor Club.
Mrs. Doyle. I will forever be one of her Cherubs. It was always an adventure and a good time in her classroom. Whether you were an Anchor, a Sweetheart, an OMer, or an Eco-Hawk, there was never a dull moment in your life. Getting out of class, helping others, making friends, and being a hard worker was what being one of Doyle's Cherubs was all about.
I was saddened to see that her old room was now in use by another teacher, however the OMers of 07' still had their names plastered in blue ink on the light fixture in the ceiling and the Anchor Club of the Year poster was still hanging on the wall. For four years that had been my home away from home. But like many things in the school, this had changed as well. That room that Anchor had established as its home was a thing of the past. It was no longer their home. It was as if they had been evicted and sent away. Even though the Anchor Club remains with the same principles that had been instilled since Doyle, it seems things have really changed in the three years i have been absent.
I of course, being the Anchor that I am, have urged my sister to join the BEST club ever.
From here, my nostalgia had only increased. As I walked into Ms. Campbell's old room, I was saddened to see she was no longer there, but unlike Mrs. Doyle's old room, Ms. Cambell's room was still reminiscent of her. Everywhere you looked there were old sculptures and paintings scattered about. I had even found one that I had done back in my sophomore year. I even remember creating it for a Fair Child's challenge on recycling different materials. I would spend endless amounts of time in that art room either forging some idea into a ceramic piece or creating a master piece. I was far from an AP artist, but it didn't matter.
Heading out to another class, I spotted an old teacher of mine. She was far from old, and what I meant to say was a teacher from my past. I was in middle school when I had the pleasure of being taught by one of the most amazing women I will ever meet, Ms. Ceballos. She was my 6th and 8th grade Language Arts teacher and let me just say, what she lacks in height, she makes up for in personality. My 8th grade year I passed with the highest GPA in her class and even won a trophy, which I display proudly in my room, but it wasn't for lack of hard work and dedication, which she drilled into me. It was tough, her being strict when it came to the assignments, but she was always fair. It was then that I really began to cherish the art. Reading and writing became my life. Even as I go through collage, I study new ways to become a better writer.
I want to say thank you for pushing me and always believing in me. And I did go to France, just like I had written in one of my journal assignments all those years ago. (I still have all the books she gave me too!)
Ms Ceballos, Ms. Ferguson, and Mr. Dearing all brought out my love for reading and writing. I became one with my books and they have become one with me. It is the best gift that teachers could give their students and I wish all students could be so lucky.
So as I walked into the lobby and out the entrance doors, I realized that the walls may be the same colour, but MSSH, the way that I knew it, will only live on in my memory. And I am grateful to have had such wonderful teachers who have greatly impacted my life for the better. Thank you.
By: Kristen
