Before I started at OHS, I remember effortlessly getting As on my English papers. And then I took JE001 in the first semester of seventh grade and my first writing assignment was returned with 7/10. My camera often glitched, my internet dropped off, I got kicked out of class, and my mic didn’t work. To compound these woes, I had a math class at 4 a.m., which my parents were perennially afraid I would miss. I remember my dad waking me up at 1 a.m. the second week of class because he’d misread the time, and thought I’d missed it. I even missed my second orientation as a new student because I’d miscalculated the PST→ Indian Standard Time conversion.

Over time, of course, I learned how to write better papers (thank you, Mrs. Stanford!), to make sacrifices to the AC gods (pausing my camera when my internet got weak), and calculate timezones efficiently.

I think back to seventh grade when I focused all my time on staying awake during class and keeping up with academics. However, I quickly learned the importance of community, especially formed through the clubs I joined. I started my journey in the Observer, not knowing that I would still be here, six years later. Through the Observer, I’ve learned about writing, maintaining a journalistic tone, working on quick turnarounds, and, most importantly, the value of a newspaper. The Observer has changed how I see truth, media, and journalistic responsibility.

I remember, in eighth grade, being so inspired by the community I had found in other clubs that I decided to start my own. With the support of a friend, I submitted my proposal to start the Bollywood Club. I wondered, because of its niche focus, whether it would be a total flop. However, I ended up creating a close-knit community, conducting events–both in-person and virtual–and even made a film trailer!

I recall, in ninth grade, hesitating to speak in classes and take risks in my writing. Over time, however, with friends and the non-judgemental environment my teachers created, I learned to speak up without fear, write better (I’ve come a long way from color-coding in JE001!), and, as a bonus, I even procrastinate less…just a little bit, but it counts.

I remember only bits of tenth and eleventh grades, because that first semester of seventh grade seemingly  telescoped into the first semester of senior year. College applications defined fall semester; with essays upon essays upon essays, asking me to dissect my life, values, experiences and distill them into 650 words. I remember wondering when would it be over? and will I get to hibernate over winter break? Spoiler: I procrastinated on some deadlines, in true OHS fashion, and worked through the break, as did a lot of my friends. It felt like an impossible task to compress big reflections and lessons into short essays.

But reflecting made me more grateful for everything, including the community I have here in school. I captured so many important experiences, but I did feel a pang when I realized that it hadn’t captured the most poignant parts of my OHS experience–the late night virtual chats with friends, the joy of getting Ekudos, or the sadness of the transition away from Skype.

Graduating is bittersweet. I cannot believe that I will be leaving the home and people that I have known since seventh grade. What I’ll miss most isn’t the classes or clubs but the people who stayed up with me finishing essays, the people who showed up to the Bollywood club meetings and events, and the people who read every Observer article.

I will miss you, but I am endlessly grateful for you.