Dear Mrs. Couch,
I didn’t know what to expect when I first walked into your class almost two years ago. I never knew that it would affect my high school career. I was just taking it because I needed a class to fill my schedule and thought to myself, “Journalism means writing. I like writing. That works.”
Well, I’m still I’m journalism, an editor now, but you know that. You gave me the position as an editor, even though I didn’t think I really knew what I was doing. You taught me what I needed to know about the world of journalism, how to make interviews not awkward (I’m still working on that) and how to eloquently express my opinion. Who knew that all you have to have to write an opinion article is an opinion? (Okay, looking back on that one, maybe it was a little obvious.)
I remember the last day of that class, the last day of school. I didn’t say “Goodbye!” or “Have a great summer!” I said “See you next year!” because I was planning on coming back to journalism to be a newspaper editor.
But I didn’t see you next year. You retired, without telling any of us, because running a school newspaper and a yearbook is pretty stressful. We understood that.
I didn’t know then that the last day of that journalism class would be the last time I’d ever see you. Though I’m sure when your family and friends woke up this morning they didn’t realize that yesterday would be the last time they saw you, either.
So even though it’s a little too late:
Goodbye, Mrs. Couch. Rest in peace.