by Vendela Krenkel ’20

Sitting down to write my final words for the newspaper, I can’t help but feel the pressure to write a real tearjerker and blow all the readers out of the water, but I’m going to try to get through this eulogy without making it too depressing.

Throughout my time at Sherwood, I made memories that will forever be imprinted on my mind.

I reconnected with my childhood and began playing Minecraft again. I lost friends and gained them. I met people that shaped me to be a person I wouldn’t be without them. I made a new family, and we named ourselves The Gals. We marked our territory: for lunch spots, for teachers we care the most about, and for holidays, like Phoriday and our holiday parties. I built inside jokes and forgot them. I had pancake birthday surprises. I protested for the things that matter most to me, and never felt more powerful. I learned to text, and to use way more exclamation points than are necessary. I embraced the inner grammar fanatic, joined The Warrior staff, spent hours testing made-up words for the crossword, and found my place at Sherwood. I made life a whole lot harder by drowning myself in APs. I met teachers that grew to be some of the most trusted adults in my life. I’ve grown confident, then self-conscious, then felt so alive that my chest burned and my face hurt from grinning too wide. I drove down back roads at night with the windows rolled down, singing songs at the top of my lungs. I danced in the IHOP parking lot to the Mamma Mia soundtrack. I asked someone to homecoming (but we don’t talk about that); I peed my pants in TJ Maxx on Christmas Eve (but we also don’t talk about that). I was chased to a stranger’s home on Halloween night. I was harrassed, and I watched people rally around us when administration failed to act and we were forced to take matters into our own hands. I was betrayed. I broke down over tests, over friends, over boys, and over family, but I’ve always had people to pick me up and dust me off. I dreamed of college, but now, I don’t think I’m ready to let high school go.

As much as I’ll miss having a prom, or a traditional graduation, it’s the little things that sting the most. I want to feel the superiority coursing through my veins as I walk the halls without a pass. Oh, to roll my eyes at Bob one more time. I can’t say I’ll pine for the experience of digging in the AC unit with scissors to turn it on when it’s sweltering, or for the hours-long wait for a computer to log me in.

I’ve cried so many times in this school building, but I’ve smiled and laughed a million times more. Curtains are closing, but I’ll take a final bow and thank the director. It’s a melancholic end, but Sherwood, I’m grateful for the three and a half years I had, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.