For the past three years of my high school career, I have dedicated at least one of my classes to the glorious, one-of-a-kind teacher, Ms. Goodman (recently known as Mrs. Confino, but I refuse to address her as such). She has guided me through my writing, teaching me everything she thought useful, and I hope that one day I can make her proud of me.

Unfortunately, now it is time to say my farewell to her, along with all of the other teachers who have been a part of my education. It is time to leave the only school system I have ever known.

Each and every morning, I have dreaded the daily trek to school, knowing that I would have to deal with the rambling of my fellow classmates (which I totally love) and the daily scoldings from teachers. It all seemed a bit routine to me, up until lately that is.

I’ve never been one for sentimental moments or nostalgia, but looking back on my years here at the Mill, I’ve had brilliant teachers who have expanded my mind and helped me to understand the beauty of knowledge. Before Ms. Goodman, I had never actually fully read a novel before. (To Kill a Mockingbird is the best book I’ve read so far; for all of you clueless freshman who think they can pass ninth grade English using Sparknotes, that one is worth every page.)

I haven’t always enjoyed my stay here and I thought I never would, but lately, my mind has betrayed me. I have been reminiscing about all the educators I have now come to enjoy being around; even the teachers that I once thought I hated, I no longer despise. This is mainly because I won’t have to see them after today, but still. 

Watkins Mill has helped me tremendously, from breaking me out of my shy little eggshell to introducing me to some truly unique individuals. The friends I’ve made here are irreplaceable; some are so weird and ridiculous that it is unfathomable that I even met them in the first place. I wouldn’t trade them for the world (well maybe, like, you know, a couple million dollars but shhh, don’t tell them that.)

Watkins Mill, even though before now, I looked upon you with dread and disgust. I have to think about what my life would be like if I never came here to begin with, and let me tell you, that life sounds lonely and painfully boring. Thank you for teaching me how to be respectful, responsible, and most importantly, how to live life without regret. (Three r’s, would you look at that?) 

Cheers to that!

Now this is Heather Montoya, signing off for the last time.