Closing Comments 2024

Rebecca Bao

It’s so cheesy to start with a quote, but I’m going to do it anyway! I have always really resonated with Forrest Gump’s iconic line: “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.”

My life, and I’m sure yours too, has been full of surprises—mostly fortunate ones! I remember my friend telling me in middle school that he wanted to join a high school newspaper, while I was thinking to myself how incredibly boring that sounded. Yet, after trying out journalism and joining News my freshman year, The Spectator turned out to be my second family in Stuy. I remember wondering which club I should explore next in sophomore year, then coincidentally receiving a message from a friend encouraging me to join Key Club by applying to the fundraising committee. I remember entering AP Computer Science on the first day of school and seeing five girls, but leaving the class learning so much from peers, knowing how to code mazes and recursion (Towers of Hanoi flashback, anyone?), and being more determined in becoming a woman in STEM.

Of course, I suppose I have to mention the occasional unfortunate surprises. Maybe it’s having three tests the next week, then suddenly seeing new assignments being posted on Google Classroom. Maybe it’s getting a 0 on that AP Chem complex ion quiz that I guessed C for four out of five questions… LOL. Or maybe it’s accidentally leaving my phone in the bathroom and having a five-minute panic attack when I go back to find that it’s gone.

Whatever the daily surprise may be, big or small, I encourage you to break out of your comfort zone, make new friends in the process, and smile! Yes, go join SING! your senior year (woo). Go break the ice at the lunch table with awkward questions (thanks Phoebe, Kevin, and Emily for bearing with me haha). Go create a Discord server where you can send reels and voice call your friends late at night. You don’t know which memories and friendships you create today will be the ones that you will cherish forever!

Stuy has definitely not been easy (even as a senior, trust me) but, looking back, I don’t ever regret spending my four high school years here. Whether you are an underclassman who still has a few more years left of Stuy or a senior who still cannot believe you are a senior, make the most out of every day. When the chocolate box opens again, a new flavor awaits you.

Ending with a hot take: white chocolate is better than dark chocolate. And I KNOW white chocolate is technically not chocolate. But I stand by my opinion <3

Maybe use this debate as your next lunch table icebreaker ;)

Phoebe Buckwalter 

When people reflect on their high school experiences, they often remember their first love, and I am no different. I think of the first time I heard your name freshman year, the way it rolled off my tongue in a symphony of sharp Ts and hung in the air, suspended and powerful. I think of the first time you told me you wanted me in an email from spec.ae@gmail.com, and the unbridled joy that coursed through my veins when I found out you were entrusting your future in my ink-stained hands in the December of my junior year. In my four years at Stuyvesant, I have fallen madly in love with The Spectator and all it stands for. 

The Spectator taught me the true meaning of unconditional love—love when it is not easy or convenient. I will not romanticize the way my eyes ached, every blood vessel tingling with effort from 12 hours straight of editing drafts each weekend, or the constant frustration I felt because there was always more on the to-do list, always another article to check off or Spec class to plan or issue cycle to reorganize; those things were hard, and sometimes messy, and always exhausting. But I truly believe that it is one of the greatest privileges in the world to dedicate yourself to something so completely that it leaves every muscle in your body throbbing, every corner of your mind drained, and every fiber of your being fulfilled. 

On many days, The Spectator was my only motivation to get out of bed in the morning and go to school. In her Spectator closing comment, former Editor-in-Chief Momoca Mairaj (‘23) wrote, “We have all thought or will think at least once, ‘Was it worth it coming here?’” and if I’m honest, I have asked myself the same thing on countless occasions. Reflecting, though, I realize that I have never once asked myself that question since becoming Editor-in-Chief. The answer is a resounding yes: this love could make anything worth it. 

I am writing this as a love letter to The Spectator: some faceless, black-and-white entity. In reality, this love letter is for my co-workers—every single member of The Spectator, but most of all, The Editorial Board. You made me feel special in a school of 4,000 people who didn’t know my name.

Finally, to Rebecca Bao, my co-Editor-in-Chief and one of my best friends in the world: thank you. I am in awe of your constant optimism, unparalleled thoughtfulness, work ethic, and capacity for kindness. You have been an unwavering force in my life since we were elected Editors-in-Chief, and I know the BoBa empire will flourish for years to come in our continued friendship. 

Kevin Chan

The color of the shirt your friend was wearing the day before, the test you failed last week, the pizza you shouldn’t have eaten for school lunch because you’re lactose intolerant: all those things eventually fade into lost memories or blur into the myriad of experiences you have. Yet, even when we forget the numbers, days, and times, the one aspect that stays within our hearts is the emotions evoked by the thought of the place where we craft our experiences. So, though you may stress about all sorts of things as you pave your path throughout high school, take advantage of the places presented to you. Make a new friend in the cafeteria, feel the thrill of performing on stage, or study abroad and see the world. And wherever you go, connect with the people around you—that’s what sets the memory of a place aglow in our hearts.

Finn Charest

Humor is super cool! But unfortunately, it’s a fundamentally performative skill—you need to be able to read your audience, physically supplement your jokes, and pivot to laugh at the awkwardness of your bad quips when they aren’t landing (self-awareness is a Get Out of Jail Free card). Unfortunately, none of these crutches are afforded to written comedy. Thus, many times I’ve outed myself as editor of the Spec Humor department to looks of pity and disgust. If you see someone chortling to themselves with The Spectator open on their lap, chances are better that they’re laughing at a bad picture of their friends than our six pages of dedicated satire. But we’re trying. So don’t judge. 

Erica Chen

As much as Stuyvesant has ruined my sleeping schedule, eating schedule, and pretty much every other schedule out there, I’ve never regretted doing any of the extracurriculars I chose to immerse myself in during my four years of high school, The Spectator included.

When I first attended The Spectator’s interest meeting as a freshman and found myself sitting awkwardly in a Zoom room, face to face with the Humor editors at the time, I never imagined that The Spectator would become such a huge part of my life. I had planned on staying a writer for all four years of my high school career, but like most of my plans, it was foiled by something or someone. In this case, I’d like to thank my previous editors, Kelly Yip (‘22) and Logan Ruzzier (‘22), for pushing me to apply for Humor Editor-in-Training, because it truly ended up being one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Yes, ruining my own sleep schedule was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. (What does that say about me?) 

Looking back as a senior, I’ve found joy in writing and editing Humor articles at ungodly hours in the morning, running to and from Domino’s to get pizza and snacks for Humor brainstorm meetings, and arguing with my fellow editors on what the newest Spec merch should and should not be. To all my writers (you guys are the cutest people ever <3), I’ve enjoyed breaking my wallet for y’all, blinding you with my lovely block comment color combinations (white text on neon yellow highlight still remains one of my proudest combinations), and exposing all the most chaotic sides of me in our totally very sane group chat. 

For my funny people out there, join Humor! For my unfunny people out there, just get better at pretending to be funny, and also join Humor :) The editors don’t bite… but no promises! 

Lucien Clough

Arts! Entertainment! Writing! Ah, it was only but a year ago that a twinkled-eyed Lucien submitted his application to be editor. Little did he know the impact that this one decision would have on his Stuyvesant experience—an opportunity to coalesce three integral spheres of his life into one position?! What joy! The rewards of this position were—and are—innumerable; so why even bother listing them out?! Just know that the word rewarding doesn’t even come close to describing the last year as editor of the lovely Arts & Entertainment Department. For any young sprites out there looking for something to set their sights on, I can’t recommend editorship enough. All to say, heck yeah, Arts! Heck yeah, Entertainment! And last, but certainly not least, heck yeah, writing! Lucien out.

Simone Raleigh

Dear dear artists, entertainers, and people who are yet to be either! I, Simone, am certainly not an insane movie buff or music-trivia wizz, but my experience of being an editor for A&E has been nothing short of spectacular. Getting to be a part of the department’s growth, both in size and depth, over the past few years has been incredibly rewarding. My main takeaway from my editorship is that writing is so important. That sounds really cliché, but watching some of my most blaisè writers dig their heels into a department niche and start consistently generating incredible pieces has proven to me that anyone, yes even you, can become a heck of a writer with practice. If you have any interest in developing as a writer, or being in a community with some of the most creative minds Stuyvesant has to offer, A&E is the place to be. Simone out. 

Sarah Diaz

For years, I’ve said that my worst quality is my inability to write about myself—to share my innermost emotions, and brave a part of myself to the world. That’s why I was drawn to the News department in the first place (I even mentioned this on my application…); I was interested in sharing the stories of others, not of myself. Yet, over the course of the past four years with The Spectator, I’ve grown a voice. Inspired by others’ stories, I started using writing to give my emotions a purpose. As I craft Opinions articles at 3:00 a.m. on the topics that bother me (sorry Ivy!), share my thoughts in Spec class, and yell “JOIN NEWS” at recruitments, Spec has empowered me to become a more confident person who no longer shies away from sharing her feelings. I found my voice through Spec, but for many of you, that place might be different. Whether you are your most authentic self programming a new generative AI, deriving a new proof of the Pythagorean Theorem, or presenting your project at DECA nationals, find that place where your voice rings loud and clear, and you shine as brightly as a star. 

Ankki Dong

If you’re here at Stuy, you might as well rob the school. Not the lunchroom chicken fingers, the guidance office’s stapler, or the dozens of pens and sheets of paper from the art department (though I did take one too many sheets of paper from . Wrigley.) Rob your teachers and classmates of their knowledge and the school of all the clubs, guest speakers, and events offered. At Stuy among the hundreds of prodigies, it’s easy to feel like you don’t belong and think that you can’t join a club or take a class because everyone else is naturally better than you at it. But getting into this school means you are just as deserving as anyone else to be here, so don’t be afraid to rob the school of all the incredible opportunities offered. That's why you’re here! It will be stressful and lonely at times, but as long as you keep searching and putting yourself out there, you’ll find the perfect corner that is meant for you. 

Ivy Huang 

I came into Stuy lost. I found out about The Spectator through Zoom when I was a freshman. I wasn’t sure whether it was nerves or my insecurities, but after the fall recruitment interest meeting, I didn’t sign up for any department. I didn’t join in the spring semester that year either, and at the start of my sophomore year, I thought it was too late. 

Sophomore year was a very difficult year for me because I didn’t feel like I had a place at Stuy. My big sib Morris Raskin (‘22) (the EIC of The Spectator and Caliper at the time) introduced me to Caliper, which became my first home at Stuy. I remember being hesitant, at first, about sharing my work. But when I finally mustered up the courage to share, the support and positive feedback I received motivated me to be more vulnerable with others. Writing for me has always been about finding my voice. Caliper has not only given me a platform to do so but also a community of creatives who have rooted for me along the way and encouraged me to join the Opinions Department of The Spectator. The Spectator then became another home, where I was able to challenge myself and grow. As a writer, I realized that tackling uncomfortable conversations, while hard and scary, is necessary. When I eventually became an editor, I felt privileged to have the trust of writers who were brave enough to share their vulnerabilities and grateful to be in a position where I get to see the world through the lens of others and watch as their perspectives also become a part of my understanding of the world. I will likely forget about the caffeine-fueled all-nighters (procrastination is the worst) at Stuy, but I will miss the Fun Fridays in Spec class. I will miss the hour-long gossip sessions with Amaryllis, Helen, and Gulam. I will miss hanging out with my friends in the English Office during frees. As I near the end of my senior year, I realize that it is the people and unique communities that make Stuy special. My advice: go and find your people—they are what make Stuy home. 

Fiona Huang 

My first year at Stuy felt unreal. Twenty-five percent of our high school experience was spent through a screen without any face-to-face connections, logging on and off each Zoom class, and it flew by just like that. As we came back in person the following year, I tried my best to make up for lost time by getting to know people, exploring different interests, and joining The Spectator. 

Twenty-four combined PDFs later, my time as Layout editor has come to an end. I can’t recall what sparked me to apply, but I am glad that sophomore me was thinking the way I did. Being a part of Spec has been an incredibly rewarding experience. Even if something bad might’ve happened earlier in the day, Spec class allowed me to forget it and end my day on a happier note. In fact, there hasn’t been a single day I left Spec class without smiling and having a good laugh. The fun moments we’ve shared together, from picking a song for Spec recruitments to laughing out loud during Fun Fridays, will stick with me. I’m thankful to have met all of you kind, smart, and passionate humans and that our paths crossed for this short moment in time. 

With only five months left of high school, I will remember the amazing memories I’ve created and the supportive friends I’ve met. It wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine, but that’s life—overcoming those challenges allows you to learn and become stronger. I know it might be hard to believe when someone tells you that everything will be okay, but it really is true. 

So, whether you have one or two—heck, even three—years left of high school, please enjoy the time you have left and live in the present. The end of high school is forever, but your time here is not, so go out there, have fun, laugh, cry, and make unforgettable memories and friends!!

Fareha Islam

If there’s one thing I could go back and tell my freshman-year self, it’s that it’s never quite that serious. No, really! It might feel like the end of the world when you have five tests, three projects, and nowhere near enough free periods in between to manage all of that, but you will be fine. Sure, you can stress about it and study your butt off and do everything in your power to make sure you get that sweet, sweet 100, but at the end of the day, you’re still probably gonna pass. And if you don’t get everything perfect, it’s okay. Stuy’s a school that seems like it’s extremely intimidating and competitive, and not without reason, but if you can get yourself out of the mindset of having to be number one all the time, you will find your experience here improving infinitely. It’s okay to ask for help, and it’s especially okay to take some time for yourself. I came into this school thinking that I’d have to be grinding 24/7, with no breaks or time to form personal connections or have meaningful experiences in between. The second I realized it didn’t have to be that way is the second I think my time at Stuy truly began; staying after school working on sets for STC, exploring the city with friends, going out for food after school—all of these are what I’d like to carry with me after I leave. So have some fun with it! After all, you only get one high school experience.

Gulam Monawarah

How to begin?

One of my first goals heading into freshman year was to join The Stuyvesant Spectator. Not because I was some journalism-obsessed, Pulitzer Prize wannabe, but because in eighth grade my English teacher told us about a middle school writing competition Spec was hosting. I never ended up submitting the poem I was working on—I lost the paper I had it written on! So, I figured that if I got into Stuyvesant, then maybe the words of the poem would come back to my memory, brick by brick until the whole thing was back in my heart. I felt that writing was the only “gift” I had to give; I wasn’t very good at making friends, didn’t have any shows or games to obsess over. All I had were these little glimpses called “opinions” and figured, well, I could just stick them into a huge high school newspaper and make something of it. Here I am now, as an Opinions Editor.

Turns out, life was occupied by many of these glimpses. Little bits and pieces I had in me—broken up jigsaw puzzle pieces too scrambled to fit together. I had a small love affair with math, figured I’d apply for Honors Algebra II, and proceeded to experience the most harrowing math track ever. I’m now planning on continuing math and politics in college because apparently I never learn when to stop (shout out to all of my math teachers). Some glimpses stayed strong and healthy, like my love for English and History (thanks Stuzin!). Other glimpses never deserved to see the light of day—I thought I could be a chemist for a few months! But I’m glad I at least gave it all a trial run because they’ve led me to the dreams I’d been wishing on stars for. 

My advice to you, therefore, is this: take care of those most hidden and intricate parts of you. Hold onto them as tight as you can, because they’re worth it. Don’t let a teacher make you think that you’re not cut out for STEM. Don’t let a few poor essays kill the voice in your head telling you to be a poet. If you ever end up being a Spec Editor, do what I did and spend three hours plus on a Zoom call with your other editors, gossiping about anything under the sun. And do the opposite as well: go ahead and spend another sleepless, caffeine-induced, anxiety-ridden, vomit-covered night pretending you’re someone you’re not, because it’s part of the process toward figuring out what makes you you. It’s all going to turn out alright in the end.

Now, how to end?

Sophia Mueller

I recall scampering from one side of the theater to another, camera in hand, trying to quiet its chk chk as I snapped photos of the SING! production onstage. I remember my joy that Monday, picking up The Spectator from the stands and seeing the cast singing beneath the purple lighting, their picture vivid and blown up, forever immortalized on the front page. 

Many believe photography to be a grand art form—I mean, with how often we emphasized contrast and a balanced composition during our interest meetings, even I catch myself harboring such sentiment. Yet a part of me regards photography as something more humble: a simple recording of life, a method to create and safekeep artifacts for years to come. As one-half of the photography department’s editing team (shout-out to Lily Serry, without whom I wouldn’t have made it through), I am immensely grateful for my role in memorializing fellow students’ achievements and guiding the department’s members in their documentation of Stuy life. 

My advice to you: record! On those Wednesdays spent outside of 16 Handles, take a .5 of your friend with mango froyo dribbling down their chin. Come Halloween, push aside your shyness, and take a selfie with your Barbie-costumed language teacher. Take videos of Rockefeller Park and Stuy’s amazing views, because sometimes standing between the seventh-floor plants and looking out at Manhattan makes this whole rollercoaster feel worth it. If you have a DSLR, perhaps even join the Photo Department! (I jest… unless?)

Your four years of high school will pass far too quickly; I promise you that. As I enter my final semester, I feel oddly satisfied with those “out of storage” notifications on both my phone and laptop, as they reassure me that I’ve recorded as much as possible. I urge all of you to do the same. Do it as a gift for yourself in five, 10, 20 years: allow your camera roll to fill up with hundreds of memories that stitch together your high school experience. 

Dalia Levanon

On the train home from the open house in 8th grade, I scrolled through the Features section of The Spectator website. The articles all seemed so important, so grown-up. So it was no surprise when one of the first things I did as a freshman was join Features. And it also wasn’t a surprise when I applied for editor. However, what was a surprise was the extent to which The Spectator shaped my Stuyvesant experience. I’ve learned what goes into those “important, grown-up” articles. I’ve learned that “important” is not a simple word—and that the joyful, lighthearted articles have their own significance. I am beyond grateful to have worked alongside Olivia and Emily while leading the department. They showed me what a difference it makes to work with people you can trust, admire, and learn from. In recent months, I’ve also come to understand one of the key purposes of The Spectator. While educating the student body on relevant matters is our priority, there’s also a huge amount of effort that goes into educating the writers and editors themselves. After all, I have no doubt that we could publish a high-quality newspaper without the editors attending Spec class; most of the work is done at home, or on a shared Google Drive. The purpose of Spec class, and multiple other elements of The Spectator’s programming, is to teach us about the broader implications of journalism, how to work collaboratively, what it’s like to have important discussions about important topics with peers—even if those topics don’t translate into the paper. While I spent the last few years believing that my work in Features was primarily a service to the student body, I now know that it was Stuyvesant’s most important gift to me. 

Hellen Luo

“Science is not only a disciple of reason but, also, one of romance and passion.” I have repeated this quote by Stephen Hawking during every Spec recruitment event. The presence of a science department in student journalism can be quite puzzling to many. Yet, it is this very department that enables me to write all about the scientific wonders I love and discover new ones from the voices of my writers. What would happen if the Earth spun in the opposite direction? How can our understanding of parallel worlds help us journey across the multiverse? Throughout my Spec experience, I have not only answered these scientific inquiries that randomly crossed my mind but also learned how to uncover the myriad intricacies of this world by blending science with the beauty of English writing. Whether you are an aspiring scientist or someone who wants to share the simple joys of everyday life, remember that The Spectator is always here for you to carve out your path in any dimension you choose.

Ava Quarles

To be honest, I didn’t take becoming an editor very seriously at first and kind of applied on a whim. I remember physically shaking during my interview on Zoom as a sophomore, but mostly because I was intimidated by the hot senior editors. Now, I can see that becoming an editor for The Spectator was an invaluable blessing that led to a series of events that have changed the course of my life—and the same can happen for you. Whether it be Spec Sports or some other institution, find something to be involved in that will force you to grow. Take the effort to create meaningful relationships with everyone, especially the adults you see every day (the associated benefits can’t be overemphasized). Join a sports team, don’t take anything too seriously, and be the change you want to see in the world!

Nelli Rojas-Cessa

I started as an artist and Opinions writer freshman year during remote learning. I had signed up for many, many other clubs and activities, but being part of The Spectator is one of the few I’ve maintained throughout the years. Later, I became an Art Editor, which is one of the greatest contributions I have made to the art community at Stuyvesant. I am so proud of my artists and fellow editors for the work we’ve published, but also how we keep visual arts a vital part of Stuyvesant. As a writer, I’ve also realized how powerful The Spectator really is. This newspaper is what gives a voice to the students. It’s a mechanism for change as much as it’s a collection of amazing student works. 

My advice comes from Ferris Bueller: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” I think about that quote every time I pass a large window at Stuyvesant and see the New York skyline. Our building is really nice. And I don’t think it’s verbally appreciated enough. My previous Computer Science teacher, Mr. Holmes, also said to us that it is important to struggle, as it’s how you learn, and equally important to admire your completed work. So make sure that once you finish that article, artwork, code—whatever it is—you sit there and let the achievement wash over you, just for a moment.

Kaeden Ruparel 

Long before us, The Spectator was two departments: Sports and News. While I was here, we were the forgotten child, having been banished to the back page. Editorship was an opportunity to bring Sports back into the limelight. 

Spec Sports challenged my expectations: never did I believe I’d find a community of sports fanatics at Stuyvesant, no less. While The Spectator became my place to vent after annual disappointments (iykyk), the people within this department reminded me of the unifying power sports have. 12:00 a.m. editing bowling articles—which is a sport—humbled me, but the memories beyond the paper make up for it. Game 5; laughing over Facetime with Khush and Ava to discuss applications, and the Spec class Sports Trio that everyone hated (sorry). And, of course, “Ma Sports Gang.” 

However infuriatingly, I’d like to think we’ve given sports some relevance. Who knows? Before long, we might be back on the front cover. 

When I read my first Spectator, I was immediately intimidated by its professionalism, but no less eager to join. Three years later, I’m beyond grateful to have been a part of this family. 

Stay sporty, Stuy. 

Eman Sadiq

I’d be lying if I said that my Stuyvesant experience has been completely positive or that my four years here have been primarily joy-filled. That hardly means, however, that they were a total disaster; Stuy’s been a whirlwind of clashing emotions that make this kind of reflection nothing if not bittersweet. There’ve been fun moments, from laughs in hallways to crazy lunches with friends, and not-so-fun moments, including abysmal grades on physics exams and embarrassing comments made in English classes. Taken together, these instances imbue my Stuy experience with life and give it that bittersweet air, and that’s something worth remembering and, perhaps, valuing, because if I were to separate the good and the bad, the former certainly outweighs the latter. I’ve grown at Stuy—as a student (in some regards), as a writer, and as a learner. I’ve come to find worth in not just academics but also everyday mundanity, whether that be in the form of dallying after school at Rockefeller Park or entertaining friends with silly family anecdotes. Above all, I’ve forged ties with some brilliant people, met some truly dedicated educators, and uncovered personal interests that I wouldn’t have imagined developing a passion for otherwise. 

If there’s any point to this mess of a comment, it’s that even if my Stuy experience has been a mixed bag, there is value in it nonetheless. As cliché as this may sound, the folks I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and (some of) the skills I’ve picked up during my time here are things I’ll carry with me, for better or for worse, into the next phase of my life and beyond. So, keep exploring (join The Spectator!), wondering, reveling in the time you have, because there really is no better time to try new things than the present, especially when the present is here, at Stuyvesant. 

Lily Serry

I don’t know if Stuyvesant was the right school for me. I don’t think that after all of the emotional trauma we have endured, any of us can say this was a great fit. But I think that the people in this school have accomplished amazing things. The Spectator is a publication that takes hours and hours of dozens of people’s time to create, and the community surrounding it is so incredibly passionate. No matter how much the school can seem to beat me down, I know that I have met some pretty amazing people here. 

Amber Shen

No matter how stressed you are now, 10 years into the future you’ll look back and think, those were fun times (probably). Stuy is an unforgettable experience, both the good and the bad. Competing with friends on who got the least hours of sleep (seriously, why do we do that?), suffering through the new LIRR schedule that always arrives way too early or way too late, doing your best to smile and push through the day even when it feels like everything is falling apart. Studying hours for a test, and still getting a 70. Trying your hardest in a club that you love, but still not getting that leadership position. Not getting into your dream school. There’s no shortage of things to be disappointed or upset about. But likewise, there’s an unlimited supply of things to be happy about: seeing the amazing performers in StuySquad or SING! and cheering your lungs out for them; getting a free box of Krispy Kreme donuts after report cards come out; learning things you’d never even thought of before, from the French Revolution to the different forms of poetry like ghazal or sestina; doing things you’ve never dreamed of before, like bringing a school newspaper or robot to life; traveling to other states for competitions; speaking in front of dozens of people; and, most importantly, Ferry’s mouth-watering Roma bagel. 

These four years have flown by so fast; never would I have imagined starting high school from my computer at home due to a worldwide pandemic, and never would I have imagined it ending the way it will in just a few months. Things don’t always go the way you’d expect, but sometimes that’s for the best. Just enjoy it and go with the flow. Stay specsy :) 

Olivia Woo

“All you can do is try your best,” my mom reminds me and the despondent tears welling up in my eyes. “Just try your best,” I tell writers after unloading a truckload of suggestions into my block comment. The more I think about these three words, though, the less I know what they mean. How can you know when you’ve tried your best? Is it when you’ve made it to three club meetings in a single afternoon? When your brother opens one eye and whispers “Is it day?” from across the room as you finally rustle your way into bed? The answers to these questions vary each day, each week, each year, but the truth is steadfast: that doing the best thing for yourself is, ultimately, your best.

Maybe that means going to sleep as soon as you get home, or postponing a meeting until next week. It probably means admitting you can’t do everything you once promised yourself you could. At the same time, it means taking risks to invest in your own growth. Trying new things, trying hard things, and remembering that they are hard, remembering that time doesn’t always soften them up. Like butter, you must become malleable along the edges as you let new experiences reshape your beliefs, but you shouldn’t spread yourself thin in the process. You can’t say yes to every potential experience, but don’t say no because you think you already know what it will teach you. Say it because it’s the best thing for yourself. And if you’re constantly questioning whether or not you’ve truly done your best, you’re probably doing it right.

Jovanna Wu

As someone who is a die-hard arts and humanities lover, I never thought I would end up at the Science Department’s table. So here’s some advice for my fellow students—explore, explore, explore! Don’t ever limit yourself to only the things you like; try everything, even the things you aren’t too keen on because you never know where it might lead you. In Stuyvesant, you are given limitless opportunities, so don’t waste them. Take the electives that you thought you would never take! Instead of only looking at CS clubs during the Club Fair, why don’t you also take a look at the arts and crafts clubs? Who knows what you might discover about yourself? For all you know, you could be a secret math genius or develop a deep love for history. Here’s to the four years of endless surprises and remember, make every moment at Stuyvesant count!

Allison Zhao

To be a “spectator” is to have been granted the ability and opportunity to see, watch, and create. Take all such opportunities; don’t let them pass you by, especially before it is all over and there comes a new beginning to love and learn. Here’s an additional offering of unsolicited wisdom as we approach the end that was also once a blossoming beginning: you know that feeling at a new place, a new neighborhood, a new building, when there is endless unknown to roam and discover? That’s the level of quotidian curiosity to strive for; one that is not achieved by looking at the upcoming weekend, the next holiday break, the potential that lies in summer, nor the harvests of next year. What’s happening beneath the limited capacity of surface-level evaluation? Look beyond the students rushing essays, print jobs, and studying, and look among the library’s curated collection. Also, look up a minimum of once in a while. Is the sky always blue? It’s a painting sometimes—a masterpiece on its own.