Dear Class of 2020,

Woah, what a wild ride it has been. When we first stepped into the brightly colored halls of CRLS some four years ago, we were so young and naive. We truly believed that the best way to get to know our new peers was by asking them what LC they were in. When we found ourselves locked out of the Arts Building, we walked all the way around and through the Rindge building, opening the door for the leering upperclassmen like the peasants we were. But, things changed, and we grew up: We now know to wait for a teacher we have never seen before to give us that “I hope you actually go here” smile and let us in, even if they are doing so 45 minutes after the Gluten Club meeting has started. I invite you to pause and think back to the first people you befriended in our grade. I mean, we were completely out of control. Must I remind you that Cracie and Ewen were dating?

Two months into our freshman year, D.J. Trump was elected president. Now, I’m not saying that our arrival at CRLS somehow triggered this unprecedented historical event, but… Well, I am. Our grade has always been a bit odd, to say the least; the class of 2019 has countless times deemed us “dysfunctional” and “lame,” and the class of 2021 has been known to call us “washed up hags.” During our time at 459 Broadway, the elegant Winter Ball transformed into “community skating,” and the sweet melodies of Kandy Daranjo, the Piragua boy of In the Heights, were dragged to the nearest swamp and drowned out by quacks. Killa Crank, Ronwyn Egg and their contemporaries were cast under a spell of infatuation by the lanky genius herself, Leva Yam, and from this hypnotized state they will never return. RIP. I’ve concluded that we are cursed. So, I ask you, can we really be mad about the sorry excuse of a senior spring we’ve received? Or, on some cosmic level, did we ask for it?

Still, there was a time, be it brief, when things were different for our grade. It all began on the night of May 4th, 2019. Yes, ‘twas the night we had all been waiting for since the moment we were put on this god forsaken Earth: Junior Prom. Just as the soirée was winding down, the DJ started playing my favorite song, what I would call my personal anthem, “Old Town Road.” I’ll admit, I was a little surprised to see everyone around me getting so hype, as I had always thought of the track as more underground-indie. I was quickly swept into the cultish circle being formed around the dance floor. After a few of the expected, mediocre dance-circle performers (nerdboy, amateur breakdancer, etc.), the man who was about to change our lives took the floor. Yes, it was Pam. Right as that country-pop beat dropped, Pam did what can only be described as going off. While he was in the air, executing the most baller backflip in history, time slowed. Toey Quatallah’s jaw dropped to the floor, and our grade was united as one entity. Within seconds, the daggering resumed, but the class of 2020 remained forever changed.

Though I’m sure the class of 2020 has made countless other memories during our time at CRLS, I unfortunately cannot recall any of them.

I’d also like to take a moment to thank you all for your unrelenting support during my time as the Register Forum Games and Humor editor. The massive number of fan messages I receive with each new edition (two) is truly overwhelming. I hope you’ve enjoyed my many fictional headlines about the media caf, as well as the few true ones (they did actually serve vanilla cake in place of cornbread once, no cap.) Though I appreciate you taking the time to read this letter, simultaneously, I can’t help but be a bit embarrassed for you. I find it somewhat upsetting to know that you actively chose to spend your free time on the school newspaper’s website. Not only that, but you clicked around for so long that you somehow ended up in the Games and Humor section. Understand that it’s people like you who have earned the class of 2020 its unfortunate reputation.

So, what’s next for us? Maybe a simple typo will have us running into each other on Zoom, or maybe we’ll never see each other again. Either way, I know that the time we shared at Rindge has forever tethered us to one another. Love y’all.

Sincerely,

Alma Kent

Note: All names have been changed for privacy reasons