78 days.

It has been 78 days since March 12, the last day we Scouts roamed the hallowed halls of LFHS.

We’ve all come to realize how 78 days of solitude can change a person in significant ways; however, nothing changes quite like an institution after 78 days without the presence of life. No matter how many lights remain on inside of our school at all times, there is truly no ‘light’ without the students, staff, and visitors that tread down its corridors and occupy its classrooms. 

With permission granted by Dr. Holland, I visited the ivy palace once again to observe LFHS at its quietest. Truthfully, I felt quite selfish partaking in this excursion knowing that the senior class was robbed of their opportunity to wish a proper farewell; nevertheless, I opened the front doors and sauntered about the hallways— almost as if the building was my own home. 

And, boy, does everything look different. 

Mrs. Natasha Mah, who collected her valuables from the choir room just days before my visit, described certain areas of LFHS as being “frozen in time.” I couldn’t agree more with that sentiment; despite the gaping lockers and the desolate classrooms, some spaces in the school remain exactly as they were before we left them. I found this slightly terrifying, yet simultaneously comforting— it seems that LFHS refuses to change without the presence of the people who love it most.

Then there are the areas that have changed: the commons, the third floor hallways, the cafeteria— all more vacant than ever before. Areas once populated with busy bodies echo a deafening silence; never before have I been able to freely roam these spaces without running into another student or piece of furniture. It felt wrong to stand in the center of the cafeteria without hearing Mr. Ricky Miles’ ear-splitting airhorn, it felt wrong to step into Mr. Thomas Gigiano’s frigid classroom without spotting cardboard cutouts of Martin Luther or Vladimir Putin, and it certainly felt wrong to climb the stairs leading to the senior commons without fearing the anxiety of being caught by a senior. 

Honestly, it felt wrong to simply stand in the building without a friend or classmate at my side. 

As I left through the front doors, I mournfully gazed upon a display of signs featuring each senior’s name and face. I couldn’t help but smile knowing that these pictures were properly identified with names; it showed how LFHS aims to recognize the specific individuals who had to surrender their final year as Scouts, rather than referring to them all under the collective title of ‘The Class of 2020’. These signs line the perimeter of the front lawn, showcasing each senior at their very best— just as LFHS will always remember them. 

Below is a collection of images taken from my visit, and while I feel I could write pages on pages detailing my experience, I truly think these pictures are worth a thousand words. In the past 78 days, no matter what year you are graduating, despairing thoughts about leaving LFHS behind may have graced your mind. While you may fear that you are a lesser version of yourself without your school, just take it from me:

Because of the incredibly gifted and unique individuals at LFHS, your school is nothing without you.

Gallery • 13 Photos

Trash bags filled to the brim with student belongings occupy the empty space of the commons. These bags are only filled with items left in senior lockers, each labeled with a name and ID number.