The second I saw that same link shared again and again on my Facebook timeline, I knew what was happening. My high school, Seton Keough High School to be exact, was graduating the class of 2017 and then shutting its doors for good. I wish I could've said I was shocked, or even surprised, but I wasn't. It didn't have any money. There were fewer than 200 students in a school built to hold 1,200, and teachers rarely made it more than four years working there. But this still remains: I love that school.
So the school didn't have that many students. So it was in debt. It's like that stupid country song, "The House that Built Me," except it's the school that built me. I wouldn't be who I am if I hadn't gone there. If I were a puzzle, the Seton Keough piece would be part of my heart, and if it were removed, nothing else would match up, and it wouldn't look like much of anything. I don't think everyone feels like this about their high school, or even that most people do, but I that's what makes this such a tragedy for me and everyone in my class.
Of course, we all didn't like each other all the time. That's high school, but we all have that school, that home, that community, and that's always going to superglue us together. We all remember the way the ugly green paint chipped off the lockers. We all know the struggle of walking up four flights of steps after lunch, huffing and puffing with all your plaid-wearing friends. Our first Year Day. Changing the color of fire in Chemistry class. Dancing with your shoes off in the courtyard at homecoming. Getting up on stage in your handmade Halloween costume and everyone cheering. Band trips. Theater productions. Even just sitting in that musty cafeteria after school and feasting on vending machine food.
I think the thing I'm going to miss most is the passion we all had when we were together. When you think Catholic school, you think stuffy and traditional, but that wasn't us. There was no issue, not abortion, not the death penalty, not marriage, that we didn't feel comfortable talking about in that school, even when our opinions didn't match up with Catholic values. Nobody ever told us to stop. We thought about everything from every angle. That was what I wanted for future generations of girls at my high school. I think we can still do that though. I think we can take the Seton Keough parts of us that made us braver, smarter, and kinder and put them out in the world. Whether or not we have daughters, whether or not we even have our own kids, I think it's possible to keep the Keough spirit alive without the building, without being physically together anymore. As silly as it sounds, I'll quote The Lego Movie to explain it more: "You are the most talented, most interesting, and most extraordinary person in the universe. And you are capable of amazing things. Because you are the Special." Basically, what I'm saying is that what made Seton Keough was you. You're the special.
Maybe you're reading this, and you didn't go to my high school. Maybe you're reading this, and you hated high school. But this place is/was/and forever will be loved, not just by me, but by all of my classmates (who still stay in touch with our Facebook group to this day). There's no other place or group of people who had a greater effect on me than that school, no place I'd rather call home. I'll let Seton Keough's alma mater say it best: "Your Loyal daughters will ever faithful be - to the spirit and the glory of Seton Keough High!"
Here's to you, Keough:
