Dear LFHS,

It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to say goodbye to a place that has felt similar to a home for nearly my whole life. 

For most students, Lake Forest High School becomes familiar sometime around Freshmen Orientation, the first day they nervously walk through the halls, or maybe even when experiencing their first FNL game. For me, the familiarity of LFHS came much earlier–around the age of 4. 

Long before I was a student here, I was a little kid wandering the hallways in a tiny pair of pink glasses, peaking into classrooms, tagging along to countless dance performances, watching my sister, and sitting in the stands looking over to all the big kids–wishing I was already one of them. 

Having a family member on the staff meant that LFHS was never just a school I would one day attend; it was a place I grew up in, a place I learned to find myself as well as my voice, and a place where I have had endless support. I knew teachers before they even taught me, understood the layout of the halls and the number of classrooms, knew where the best parking spots were, and where to find support from a community before I truly understood how lucky that familiarity would make me.

Because of that, these halls don’t just hold four years of high school; they hold closer to fourteen. 

Now, somehow I’m writing this days after Decision Day, weeks before graduation, and months before I head onto the next chapter in my life, wondering where all the time went. It feels like just yesterday I was this little terrified freshman walking into orientation, completely overwhelmed by the atmosphere, seeing the familiar faces, knowing but realizing that it was going to work out.

From screaming in the student section at football games to Thursday night volleyball matches–praying that it wasn’t Jimmy John’s for dinner–to running around at the pep rally trying to hype up the student body, LFHS gave me more memorable moments and opportunities than I ever could have imagined.

But more than any game or event, what really shaped my high school experience were the spaces in the school that taught me how to find my voice.

New Media gave me confidence I never knew I had. It taught me how to create, how to lead, how to think on my feet, and how to tell stories that matter. I have had amazing opportunities like interviewing journalist reporter Noel Brennan and traveling to New York as a sophomore to compete in the All-American High School Film Festival. Some of my favorite memories in that class aren’t just the finished projects that everyone saw, but the behind-the-scenes chaos, laughter, stress, deadlines, and the moments of realization, seeing how everything somehow just came together in the end. 

Journalism class and The Forest Scout gave me something even bigger: perspective. Through interviews, articles, features, and countless conversations, I learned that every person walking these halls has a story worth hearing. I learned how powerful words can be, how meaningful finding true connections can be, and how important it is to pay attention to the little moments that often become the big ones later. Being a part of this class has been like one big family, and it will be something I miss deeply. 

Lake Forest High School–it’s truly something special, and it’s hard to put exactly into words what it means to me. The people at Lake Forest make it what it is; they’re what’s so special about it. 

Rickey Myles was one of those people. Every day until the end of my junior year, I would see Rickey walking in the halls with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.  The moment he saw me, he’d instantly open his arms for a hug. He and I had this little spiel we did: I would ask, “How’s your day today?” and without fail, his response would be, “Better now because I saw you, darling.” Rickey always knew just how to make me smile, even on the rough days. He showed me endless support and even came to my house during COVID, using his iconic megaphone to sing me happy birthday while parked in my driveway. 

What makes LFHS so special is that you walk these halls and see not just someone like Rickey–you see teachers who are the biggest advocates for students’ education and who only want to watch them thrive. You see students laughing amongst themselves, and you truly see such a special community within. 

I think that’s what I’m going to miss the most. These halls share so many moments, memories, and stories. 

When you have walked these halls since you were four years old, this school becomes more than lockers and classrooms. It becomes relationships. It becomes memories attached to every corner. It becomes waving to teachers who have watched you grow up. Knowing you have countless supporters and love from staff members who feel like family has always reminded  me to know that no matter what kind of day I was having, there will always be someone here asking how you are. 

There’s something so incredibly unique about growing up in a place where support surrounds you from every angle. I have never once felt like just another student during my time in this school. I have felt known, I have felt pushed, I have felt encouraged, and I have felt cared for. That is not something everyone gets to say about their high school experience. 

As graduation inches closer by the second, I keep finding myself trying to soak in every last moment here. I cherish every walk into the first period with “DFav” where I show up late every day, every lunch sitting in senior commons, and every last day I have here with some of my best friends and basically family. 

The truth is, whether I think I’m ready or not, I don’t think I will ever fully be ready to say goodbye to a place that has built so much of who I am. How do you thank the hallways that helped you go from a little kid following behind a family member, to a nervous freshman, to a senior who somehow has to leave? 

I’m not sure you ever fully can do it justice, but I do know this: thank you, LFHS, for every single lesson taught inside and outside of these classrooms. Thank you to every teacher, coach, counselor, staff member, and friend who has made these halls feel welcoming. Thank you for every pep rally, every Homecoming, every game, every article, every video, every opportunity, and every memory that shaped these years. Thank you for raising me. 

This school has been my backdrop for nearly my entire life, and leaving it feels less like walking away from a building and more like leaving a piece of home behind. No matter where life takes me after I cross that graduation stage in just a few short weeks, a part of me will always be the 4-year-old wandering these halls, anticipating the day I would finally belong here.

Lake Forest has guided me through so much of my life, and now, as I head into my dream school, I can only thank LFHS for giving me everything I once dreamed of–and for making it  better than I ever imagined.