I’m a person who loves places. I mean that’s not the only thing I cherish (love ya mom,) but I’ve always found that there’s nothing more comforting than a familiar location. The specific smell of my car’s air freshener, the soft shade of blue on my bedroom walls, and the rough grain of my art-desk in the garage all contribute to and remind me of the lovely memories I made in those places. 

I can already tell I’m going to be truly homesick when I go to college, for my family and friends, yes, but also simply for my home. I expected this, but what I didn’t expect was how bittersweet it would be to be leaving Westview’s campus too. 

I mean, when I was a freshman, I thought this campus was the ugliest place in the world. Of course, I still don’t think our school is winning any  beauty contests. But because I’ve spent four years inside these cheddar cheese-colored walls, despite our school’s many flaws, I’ve realized there’s a kind of beauty to our campus and its many features. 

Even classrooms whose subjects I hated will likely be fondly remembered. After all, I’ve spent four years, 177 days a year, 5 hours a day, sitting in those  ubiquitous black plastic chairs. I’ll never forget the all-too-common, “EEEEERRR- SQUEAAAK,” with every movement. It’s too much to say that I’ll miss it, but I can say that I may be able to look back and laugh, remembering that silent math test where my chair was squealing what sounded like a kazoo symphony. 

Another location on campus that I’ll miss are the lunch tables. While I don’t eat lunch there, I have sat at those dark-green, always slightly-sticky, tables in the mornings since freshman year. And from those tables, one gets a full view of our campus’ seagull population. To me, the seagulls are an undeniable symbol of our campus, on which they leave their mark through well-aimed droppings and constant screeching. It’s a wonderful and messy form of entertainment that has graced many of my mornings. The seagulls were the subject of two of my Nexus articles, and have undeniably left a mark on me (thankfully not with their excrement … yet). 

Another routine space that I know will be on my mind is the Nexus hallway. I’ve held back both tears of stress and tears of laughter in that space. Press nights have been a roller-coaster of emotions and experiences, all taking place in that often-stuffy hall whose walls are covered in a historical treasure trove of Nexan quotes. I’ll miss reading what Evan Buckland joked about in 2019, miss being stared down by those two Benson Boone posters, and miss the mystery of that giant stuffed spider that has hung on the wall for as long as most of us have been alive. 

I will even cherish my memories of Westview’s outdoor hallways. When I first arrived at this school, I was absolutely petrified at the idea and reality of 2,100 students rushing the hallways in that short five-minute passing period. However, just like I mastered Crossy road, I now can maneuver through our crowded hallways with ease, dodging students and metal grates alike. I can now enjoy my walk, taking my eyes off of my feet so that I can scan the crowd for the many familiar faces that have been impressed upon my memory over the past four years. Our hallways have become a place for me to exchange smiles and conversation with friends. 

Yes, the floors are spotted with blackened, and sometimes unfortunately fresh gum. Yes, the views of our half moldy cheddar and half zebra colored buildings are not pleasant. Yet, I can acknowledge that this place has enormous value to me simply because of the events, both monumental and miniscule, that have happened in this mundane space. 

And that’s really the crux of it, I think: our campus is beautiful because I’ve seen so much here, laughed so much here, saw so many unfortunate bird victims here, and made so many memories on this wonderful, unsightly campus we call Westview.