When people think back on their high school experience, they tend to remember all of the most impactful times they’ve ever had. Whether those are good or bad, funny or sad, big or small. These are the things people will always remember.

That one class you take that one time – it’s nothing special. It’s not hard or easy or fun, but for some reason that one class is so important. Maybe it’s because you sit next to someone who you never talked to before and you find yourself looking forward to seeing them every day. Sometimes it’s the class itself and the view from the window or the way the room smells and how typically bland and generic it is.

Sports are always a great opener to the high school experience. In practice you’re surrounded by your teammates who may be strangers in the beginning but eventually, overall the hard work and dedication, you all develop a bond between you. You become a family, in between all the pain and lethargy you laugh, create your own inside jokes, laugh at the mistakes you all make, and celebrate the victories of everyone on the team. Even the little things.

Homecoming Week – it sounds cliché, and it is, but it’s also one of the best times in high school. It’s a week designated for all of the stereotypical high school events and students really pour their hearts into it. Kids always try to outgrow high school too fast for some reason, but Homecoming Week is that one time that they can fully embody the high-schooler persona. Everyone looks forward to the pep assembly for a good laugh and loud cheers, the big football game where everyone’s decked out in orange and black, and the dance to follow, where spirits are high and the music is loud.

Not everything in high school is glamorous, not everything is bright and shiny. You don’t always get to feel like a kid, but there are few of those moments that happen where you get to revel in all of the cliche feels of high school. The kind of moments ‘80s movies are filled with and it’s magnificent.

* * *

Dearly beloved we are gathered here today due to the impending absence of our fellow students. As of May 20, 2018, Braden Schiller, Rylie Kannard and Lauren Asher will no longer be anguishing through class with you. They ask that you not mourn their departure but instead ask the most important question: What are they leaving to you?

Therefore, here are the last wills and testaments of the three PHS Prowl seniors:

Braden Schiller:

To Mr. Jim Gilman: All of the time I spent loitering in your class. May you put it to good use.

To Mrs. Lenita Moore: I leave my assigned seat in your room; may you take many a wonderful nap in it, just like I did.

To Tate Barhaug: I leave you every defective part of my Jeep; may they help you get to where you’re going.

To Devon Curtis: You get the same as Tate; fight for it or something.

To Holden Wilson: I leave you all of the lost lures that reside at the top of the Big Horns.

To Kenadee Bott: Every piece of sarcasm I have left unsaid.

To Zoie Gaisford: You get a bill … for all the gas money you owe me.

Rylie Kannard:

To Mr. Vin Cappiello: I leave you a lifetime supply of off-brand granola bars and a tab book to count your infinite amount of “burns” on people.

To Gracie McLain: I leave you a lifetime supply of Costco muffins.

To Mrs Wendy Smith: I leave you a safe to lock up the candy bars and hot glue guns.

To Mr. Troy Hildebrand: You get all the sarcasm never thrown back at you.

To Mrs. Ashley Hildebrand: I leave you the cure for all the technical problems Canvas and the laptops have.

To The Lunch Ladies: I leave you all the thank-yous you never received.

Lauren Asher:

To Mr. Robert Hunt: I leave you an infinite supply of wood blocks to chop in half when the freshmen build the set.

To Kayla Kolpitcke: I’m giving you all of the bananas and Lifesaver gummies this world has to offer; may they get you through the next two years.

To Mr. Russ Schwahn: I leave you a nickel for every time that I’ve said, “Thank goodness for Mr. Schwahn” in my math classes.

To Mr. Brandon Preator: Congratulations! You get a lifetime subscription to Betty’s Back Fat Blaster – as well as my gratitude for introducing me to chipotle sauce.

To Aidan Hunt: You get all of the tears I shed from laughing too hard every day. Most of them are from you. Most of them are from that one time you pretended to be a bird-man.

And to all of the underclassmen, I leave you my advice: Make the next four years count, and don’t grow up too fast.