Editors Note: Giving Advice, Saying Goodbye

Jason Wood

More stories from Jason Wood

Hey Man, Screw It
May 11, 2018

I never thought that I’d be terrified to write something. Sure, I wasn’t exactly thrilled to write 10 page essays in school, or goodbye letters and I sure wasn’t excited about writing the I-Search this year, but I was never scared—until now. I’m scared of writing this note.

I’m scared because it means I’m no longer a member of the Tom Tom, and that I have to say goodbye to the place I’ve called home for four years now. While I will always be a Tom Tommer at heart, I’m never going to have to write an online piece again, I’ll never be listed in the staff box again and I’m never going to have to stay until 11 p.m. to crank out a magazine ever again.

Oddly enough, what I fell in love with throughout this program wasn’t writing, or photography or even design (which if you know me, you know that’s all I’ve done for two years now)— it was relationships. See, high school teaches you loads of important things: math equations, how to correctly interpret literature, what parts of the human body perform different functions, how the mind works, how to exercise properly—but nobody ever tells you that the most important things you’ll learn can’t be found in a textbook or a lecture. In my four short years at ACHS, I learned that the things that matter most are the people. You don’t get far in life because of standardized test scores or grade point averages, you get far by making connections and knowing the right people. There’s no class that’s going to tell you that you’re not the most important person in the world, that’s something that you learn by being a good person. You don’t learn true pain and happiness through curriculum, you learn it through falling in love, whether that’s with a person, place or thing.

Student-athletes, artists and performers alike can all attest to the incredible highs and lows of performing well when called upon, and having to let go when the time comes. High school isn’t important strictly because of the school aspect, it’s the unspoken learning and maturity gained that really makes it worth it.

But, this editor’s note is happy. It’s a chance to remember all of the good memories I’ve had as a Sequoit. It’s weird to think that in a week we won’t be waking up at 6 a.m., five days a week to walk these same familiar, comforting halls. For some, these four years were the best of their lives. For others, these four years couldn’t have gone faster. Regardless of perspective, our time as Sequoits were defined in one way or another, and, to me, that’s pretty cool.

Because people are what truly matter in life, the Tom Tom seniors wanted to highlight them. Within these pages are scattered the faces, and the stories, of almost the entire senior class. With the exception of a few people who attend tech campus or graduated early that we weren’t able to reach in time; there are more than 290 seniors in this final magazine. Each person shown has their own story to tell, their own personality, but since we couldn’t possibly cover all of them, we wanted to include a taste. Every single person photographed is holding a sign with their final advice included. Hopefully, this gives both the senior class a chance at closure, as well as a meaningful guide to life for those reading.