I don’t fancy myself sophisticated,
Or adept at high-minded art,
Still I thought I would try my hand at poetry,
Before Latin and I must part.

I know “good” poetic prose need not rhyme
And should have literary devices galore.
But this is my last Forum submission,
I’m sorry, Ms. Kloehn, but I don’t want to be remembered as a bore.

And speaking of things such as memories:
For 14 years, I’ve donned the orange and blue.
From egg drops, to Springfield, to assassin,
There is so much for me to sift through.

My earliest reflection is of the JK summer playdate,
Searching the Lower School roof in despair,
Trying to find any other girly girl
Who would also be an afternoon yellow bear.

These were the days of fun and frolic—
Morris, Addison, and Deeney helped me to grow.
Then came Johnson, Lawrence, and Schirmacher,
Each showing me what to know.

So long ago, but it feels like yesterday,
Adults meeting our every command,
Spending all day on dress-up and recess,
Summoning sandwiches with the flick of a hand.

Now this might really date us,
It actually defies imagination,
But can you picture in Trump’s 2025,
Spending a whole day playing “immigration”?

And who could forget the Halloween parades,
With our parents cheering along?
Or the annual holiday shows,
Each year adding a new religion and song.

Speaking of holiday shows,
Like a Latin mother, mine made a call,
And managed to watch her little Jewish girl
Dress as Santa’s elf and go scrambling up the wall.

That’s how I first learned the value of self-advocacy,
Something Latin’s Middle School pushed us to pursue—
Along with improving our executive function,
Although I don’t know what those weird, cumbersome binders were supposed to do.

As it turned out, we barely attended Middle School
Once masks and distance took over the room.
We still learned of chocolate and Odysseus,
But we mostly just learned how to Zoom.

Full days returned in the last month of eighth grade.
With a year filled with half days, there was little we could surmise.
Did any of it serve any real purpose?
All I remember is tented lunches with the flies.

And I know our school did all that it could,
In a global pandemic no one could foresee,
But the Class of 2025 will not forget:
Latin still owes us a trip to D.C.!

Thank goodness we were back together by Upper School,
With fresh faces we’ve spent four years enjoying.
I hope those that came are glad they did,
And will remember more than new desks that were super annoying.

We met our new peers in Advisory,
Filling out surveys on all things big and small.
We could have been catching up on school work,
But we usually did nothing at all.

Latin tried to refine our behaviors
To Chipotle’s detriment, we would often ignore,
Did they think taking away senior tables would subdue us?
We were happy to dine on the floor.

Four years of standards-based assessments,
I’m not sure who they were trying to appease.
Cause now that we are off to college,
It’s right back to A’s, B’s, and C’s.

The world was angry during our high school years:
Capital riots, invasions, and wildfires dominated the scene.
But the thing that really scared us
Was a bomb threat the day we lost the Queen.

Nevertheless, our Latin bubble kept us safe,
Soft and fluffy like a pillow,
Although nothing could be more frightening
Than that awful textbook from Morillo.

We won’t always enjoy Latin-level comfort,
We may not be off to fortune and fame.
It’s possible our best years are behind us,
But at least Sami will always know our name.

I am thankful the Upper School gave us plenty of academic freedom,
Time away from derivatives and particles.
So when not on the lakefront logging miles,
I joined The Forum and spent hours working on articles.

The Forum offered extraordinary lessons
Of more than research, editing, and writing,
By allowing me to engage with my school community,
And share what my classmates found interesting, important, or exciting.

I have learned at The Forum how to listen carefully,
Always with empathy for my community and peers,
And made so many inquisitive friends,
Who I will draw inspiration from for years.

It has been a privilege to serve as a Forum EIC,
For such an exceptional journalism source of great stature,
Particularly in today’s environment,
It is incumbent on us all to remember—facts matter.

I really wish we all had more time together,
If I did not know you well, I’ve missed out and was thoughtless,
It can be hard to look up all the time—
And I was always stuck in that science room office.

I will deeply miss all of you Romans,
Hopeful I have served you well editing opinions, news, and features.
And a final toast to those I could never forget,
Latin’s incomparable, life-changing teachers.

So I hope you’ve enjoyed this Ode,
And the few parting words I thought I might spout.
I wish you all the very best,
This is Mia Kotler—out.