It’s that time of year again: the senior countdown has hit one on the cafeteria blackboard. A source of relief and excitement for many members of the senior class, the steadily decreasing numbers also served as the root of anxiety and sadness for many—especially the juniors. 

It is innately terrifying for the students in the grade just above us to be leaving WA behind in a few short months. With them departs all sense of security and carelessness we once had without qualms.

“What chemical did you use for that chem lab? Do I need a notebook for French this year? How do I parallel park? Do you think I should try out for the team again this year? I really don’t wanna take the bus… please drive me home?”  

These questions will no longer leave our mouths but instead will be directed towards us. It feels impossible to fill the shoes they will soon be stepping out of. 

For many juniors, the seniors leaving means that we will be taking their place in clubs and sports, becoming presidents, captains, and chairs when it feels like we only just got here. The time spent under their leadership and guidance doesn’t feel like enough to be providing that leadership and guidance ourselves. It’s really scary to have the final say—to be the last person to edit an article, the person to publish it; the last person to look over an email to a dean, the person to approve sending it; the voice of the organization, the person to represent it.

Of course, there is also the sentimental value: these are our oldest school friends, second only to our own class. It feels like our classrooms and hallways will never be the same without them, always emptier, quieter. 

In short, the seniors moving on will not be easy for the juniors they leave behind, a fact often overlooked in the face of an event as grand as graduation. We watch everything they accomplish and wonder how we’ll ever move forward when all the light goes with them, leaving us in what feels like the dark, fumbling around with no guide rails. 

Two months from now, our seniors will officially slip through our fingers and cross a stage certifying them as high school graduates. They will remove WA ‘26 from their Instagram bios and tag the name of a university farther away than they’ve ever been from us before. 

Even though for many of us the world is ending right now, it is important to hold on to the years of memories that the class of 2026 has left us with. It will never be the same without them, but different doesn’t have to be bad. Like they did before us, we will figure out how to make new shoes and fill those instead. Eventually.  

In the meantime, tell your seniors that you are proud of them. Even though they are putting themselves on the opposite side of the bridge from us, they went through a lot to cross that bridge; they deserve all our love and support. 

Thank you for everything, class of 2026. You will be missed more than you know. 

And above all, thank you to my own seniors—how lucky are we to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard?