The love for my high school that still burns bright

Despite ‘graduating’ high school in 2020 (thanks, sweet pandemic o’ mine), it never stopped having a special place in my heart. After all, I still had friends there and kept in touch with some of my favorite teachers. My love for the school that got me into Stanford in the first place could never go away. That love — for its students, teachers and overall community — had me coming back as a community evaluator for its year-long senior capstone project (this year too). That love even drove me to take another step into something that has long frightened me: public speaking.

On Feb. 6, I spoke at what was essentially a less formal school district meeting at the school’s library. I spoke on the plan to cut the funds for each librarian in the district and opt for a rotating distinct-wide librarian. I was scared because of my pervasive public speaking anxieties and the need to speak with the eloquence that was expected of me, as I was the first one in my high school to attend Stanford in a long time. 

Even during my two years in student government, I never spoke in a venue like this, which had dozens of people in attendance. I always had ideas of what to say, but I never failed to imagine even more ways of messing up. However, this time was different. As terrified as I was to mess up my words in front of my teachers, those feelings felt insignificant as I was consumed by the solemn duty to speak at the meeting. It was a surreal experience of how I began to internalize exactly what was at stake. 

At issue was the dissolution of a position that matters to every senior at my high school. Oceana’s capstone project, Senior Exhibition, requires every senior to meet with the librarian (much love to you, Mr. Weiss) to discuss research questions and concerns. Mr. Weiss helped me, writing about the tensions between national security and government transparency, find legal texts and cite them according to the Modern Language Association. 

In truth, Mr. Weiss’s help on Senior Exhibition was an invaluable experience that made my project what it is: an integral part of my Stanford application and essentially the north star of my academic interests. Yes, I was scared, but my appreciation for Mr. Weiss and love for my high school made one thing clear: my unwavering voice of support was needed. 

That is why I ended up speaking — despite my anxieties and thinking I wouldn’t have much to add. I put my heart front and center when speaking on Mr. Weiss’s profound impact on me personally and how that speaks to his profound impact on the Oceana community at large.

I spoke with the same resolute passion that has been essential to my time writing for The Daily across its sections over the years. I stressed the value, both in and out of the classroom, that a long-time librarian brings to the community. As brief as my remarks were, they opened my eyes to exactly what Oceana meant to me in ways I never truly understood until now.

I wasn’t the only Oceana graduate who spoke. There were even two local city council members, surely with other matters to attend to, who took the time to speak so eloquently and powerfully that day. I was tearing up when speakers started to connect the school district’s dissolution of campus-specific library positions — a fatal blow to what makes them the special safe havens for knowledge and exploration that they are — to the new President’s anti-LGBTQ+ censorship and anti-DEI policies.

This board meeting highlighted the humanity that my high school embodies. In its curriculum and its broader community values, love for ‘the other’ is of the utmost importance. Speaker after speaker, we stood up not just for the librarian whose job was taken from him but also the students whose very identities are enmeshed in the space that Mr. Weiss has nurtured over the years. 

I am a better student and overall human being because of the very high school environment that was on full display. I am proud of how I, long after my high school years, carried my high school’s humanitarian and equity-oriented fibers into writing about matters that ranged from my personal survivor story to solidarity with Stanford’s graduate workers. As the Oceana community stood by Mr. Weiss, I truly internalized how deeply my high school experience influenced me. 

As I continue to navigate my academic suspension journey, I will continue holding onto the humanity and justice that high school instilled into me. For some, high school may fade into nothingness. But for me, it’s a love that burns bright and lights the path I will forever walk.

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