by Jordan Costolo ‘25

These three-plus years at Sherwood have been painful for us Seniors. While the three graduating Classes before us got lucky and had at least a year break from this wretched place due to Covid, the Class of 2025 will be the first class in years who will get the full Sherwood experience. They say that the years before us are the brave ones, HAVING to wake up at 9am and play video games while a teacher rambles in a Zoom meeting on low volume. WE HAD TO ACTUALLY BE HERE. As if that wasn’t bad enough, a few colleges and universities actually have the nerve to require SAT or ACT scores for admissions. We can’t catch a break.

Here we are at the peak, my fellow Seniors! The best year of our high school careers according to our parents and teachers! At least, it would be, if being a Senior was still important. Yes, it’s true: I’m sad to say that by the time we are finally the big kids on campus, the filthy underclassmen have stripped away the powers the ones before us held so dear.

The phrase “I’m a Senior” used to MEAN something. When I was new, things were different. I was told to FEAR upperclassmen when I was a Freshman. Back then, if a Senior told me to move out of their way in a hallway, I would move. If they told me to get out of their lunch spot, I got up. Now, the kids (who are supposed to be BENEATH me) are taking my spot in the Senior Section during football games??? SO WHAT if I happen to get there 45 minutes late to the game? That spot on the bleachers is mine! What happened to respecting your elders? When I was young, the Seniors were gods among men. A higher state of being.

This week, I overheard a story from a fellow upper-classman having to deal with Gen Alpha. He recounted that earlier that week he had been weaving his way through the crowds of kids around the media center during the change from 1st to 2nd period, and a Freshman shoulder checked him to get through. A FRESHMAN! Now granted, this Senior is 5’5, 120 pounds, and wears shirts that say “Game On!” or “Go Big Or Go Home,”, so I get the confusion, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be man-handled by a 15 year old who has a beard and enough creatine in him to make a mouse the size of a water-buffalo! Surely the Seniors before us didn’t feel this way. We were better.

There’s NO WAY that we’re feeding into a constant cycle of hating what comes after us and sanctifying the things before us, in a hopeless ritual of stubborn nostalgia! No, it’s definitely that the kids suck and we are way cooler.