Seniors Reflect on Favorite BT Spaces

Grace S. ’19: High School Library
The musky smell of overused books surrounds me. Embossed spines and worn out leather line the wall behind me ... Walls surround me as I sit in my own cubicle, in my own world. As I look to the left, I see students laughing and teasing each other in what appears to be another dimension. To the right, I see more cubicles and people engrossed in their own school work. However, I have grabbed the only cubicle with an outlet nearby, and I plug in my ever dying computer. Beginning my mountain of homework, I become oblivious to anything occurring around me.

 

…The library has provided a sanctuary, my own private place where I can separate myself from prying eyes ... When I move on to college, I will miss my own world that existed within that cubicle. I will miss the dusty old books and silence that filled my ears.

After weeks of planning, a group of students throughout the high school staged a tribute to the victims of the Marjory Stoneman Douglas shooting. Hundreds of students surrounded the uneven grass field, filling up the piercingly chilled bleachers and the grass area beside the lower school building. Each student had a look of discomfort, yet one could not decipher whether their disposition came from discouraged sadness or extreme cold. In a place where loud cheering and a noisy crowd once existed, one could only hear the grief stricken words of the students participating, and the occasional plane overhead.

The program ended at 10:50 a.m., yet most refrained from returning to class at that time. From my spot on the field, I watched as teachers and students of all ages cried on each other’s shoulders. Those who rarely even passed each other in the hall embraced in an attempt to comfort the other.

Ariella S. ’19: Room 208
Room 208 holds some of the best memories from high school, ranging from surprising promposals to high energy political discussions. The pale beige cinder block walls, ceiling plastered with neon and tessellated patterned tiles, and sleek white board with streaks of old marker make up the room where we can state our unguarded opinions, have meaningful personal discussions, and even daven.

 

Joseph L. ’19: Rosen Arts Center Lobby
Ever since that summer, I have come into school every morning knowing how I will start my day. When I’m closed away from the world behind those doors for the short 10 minutes before the first bell, I have nothing else to do but play the piano.

I can hardly see over the many tall heads surrounding me all trying to get a better view. A freshman, I stand on my toes, peer over shoulders, and even jump up and down to observe what is, by far, the most exciting event I’ve attended in high school. With every glance I see a girl running, jumping, or even yelling with intensity. I feel stuck in a bubble where every sound blurs into this extremely loud white noise. I envy those girls, I want to be them, and, soon enough, I joined their ranks.