18 years of West
The very first school I went to was West High, but it wasn’t the first school I “attended.” It was the first school I set foot in — well, was carried into I suppose. Back when the soccer field was just grass, when the lunchroom only had one set of doors for the lunch line, and when West still didn’t have air conditioning all of the teachers would have to bring 100 fans to keep cool.
Going to West always meant one of two things: Going to see Dad in his Spanish room or watching him coach a soccer game. Once the field was built, my mom, sister and I would go on the left side of the bleachers in the open grass area so my sister and I could set up our pink castle tent. We would hide in the tent until the last five minutes of the game before reemerging from the fortress. After all of the soccer team left, my sister and I would run across the field to give him a big fat hug. Eventually, we outgrew the tent, but we never outgrew waiting until the team had left to run over to Dad.
When I originally heard that my dad would be moving classrooms I had no idea that the “9th grade center” end of West even existed. A whole other half of West!? The most important thing about his room change, though…there would be air conditioning. But Mr. Kirpes was always Dad’s across-the-hall neighbor and moving meant that we wouldn’t see him as much anymore. We would always walk by his room or he would pop in when me and my sister were there to say “Hi.” He always had a good question for us to answer and we always enjoyed seeing him. Now, having Mr. Kirpes as a teacher feels so different because I only knew him as a “neighbor” before. A decade later on the first day of sophomore year, (then) Ms. Stumpff came up to me and said that she had been taught Spanish by my dad in the very same room that she was teaching me that day. I hadn’t even realized it was the same room because it all seemed so different.
Today West seems so much less ginormous and intimidating than before. After Dad retired, I realized that this would be my last time at West, possibly ever. It’s a surreal feeling because West always seemed so far away, it was there for a brief period of time, and now it won’t be a part of my life anymore. Things I never expected to be a part of my life before like bowling and journalism have shaped some of my favorite life memories. West has always been “the next step,” but now that it’s finished it feels so distant in the opposite kind of way. If you’re reading this now, please don’t worry about the next step, appreciate everything you have for the time you have it. West High, thank you. I’ll miss you.
