By Tolu Salako
Editorial Page Editor

I hate public speaking or anything that has to do with me talking in front of people. Small talk infuriates me and new situations where I must “socialize” make me feel sick to my stomach.

I joke that I was and still am quite antisocial and awkward, but if I could have described myself in two words from the ages of 11 through 15, I would not even hesitate and use those two words.

By middle school, thankfully, I could carry on a normal conversation without my heart racing, but one of the biggest aids to getting to that  point  was music, more specifically band. Music was my thing. Piano, guitar, percussion even trying the violin, music was always my thing. Rain or shine, day or night when I was not spending my time at either school or the ice rink, I could be found listening, making or practicing music with friends in the band hall.

It was through band that I found my middle school best friends and I was so excited to continue my band career into high school. However, with a busy schedule, trying to juggle competitive figure skating and trying to start building my college resume with other extra curricular activities, there was in no way I could squeeze band into my schedule.

So I dropped band and I reluctantly signed up for journalism freshman year: a blow off class, I assumed, but I was surely mistaken.

Barely knowing anyone on the first day, I started to dread going to that class every second period. Here I was, stuck in D115 where all I did was write in a room full of freshmen who thought of themselves as a bit too cool for high school and a teacher that claimed that I talked too much in class and thus emailed my parents about my behavior (which was a bit ironic honestly).

Writing was not my thing. Sure I was in Pre-AP English all through my middle school career and could write a decent essay, but I certainly did not have a passion for it.

I wrote for a number, and if that number was under a 90, I would fight for those points back, and was usually successful.

I never saw the joy of just writing with no number grade attached, but after three years of newspaper plus that nice year of journalism, I eventually learned that writing was actually my thing.

I put down the marimba mallets, the guitar pic and the VIC-FIRTH drumsticks and picked up my Macbook Pro instead and started to write. I always thought that I could “express myself through music” or listen to those artists that “caught me in the feels,” as my friends would say and soak up all the lyrics in the comfort of my own bedroom; however, as high school went on, good ol’ Mr. Wofford taught me the beauty of column writing in that journalism class ninth grade.

Some may not see it, but my columns have almost felt like an open diary that so happened to be published online and in print where readers consistently disagreed (and if I was lucky, agreed) with any viewpoints and thoughts I had, no matter what the topic was, no matter how controversial it was.

Writing made me more comfortable with myself and I was no longer that weird kid that just kept to herself in the back of the classroom. Column writing gave me a voice, a rather opinionated one, and I could not imagine my high school experience without the joy I have when I somehow find words on a blank page, trying to convey my view, be it regarding affirmative action process, my view on Christianity being a bit too materialistic amongst students to finally trying to nicely sum up my amazing, and sometimes stressful, four years in D115 in a nice 800 words or so.

But the only thing I can reiterate, no matter how completely corny and cheesy it may sound, I would not be who I was in high school if it were not for being part of an amazing staff for the past three years. My personality evolved in such a short amount of time from being downright socially awkward to being the editorial page editor where I am known to make my viewpoint heard regardless of who may or may not agree. I made my closest friends in D115 and the opportunities that The Sidekick has given me have been farther than satisfactory.

So thank you to all of those who read my columns, to past editors who helped me shape my writing style, to my fellow staff members for being such great friends and finally to Mr. Wofford for putting up with me for four years and helping me shape who I am today and for being such a major part of a great high school experience.