Dear Room 118,

Dear Room 118,

High school was never my thing, no matter how hard I tried. I struggled with finding myself, finding the motivation to do minimal tasks, finding reasons to be happy with the person I saw in the mirror physically, and mentally. I dealt with so many undiagnosed mental struggles, an eating disorder I didn’t even realize I was losing control of until this year, and a feeling of perpetual loneliness I’ve yet to shake. I never had many close friends, I didn’t go out, I disappointed my family by quitting football in 9th grade, and I wasn’t even the best student I could be for my first few years at Dakota. If you briefly encountered me during one of my four years at Dakota, I might not have shown any of these things outwardly. I wanted to feel like I belonged in my interactions at school, I’d change whatever I could about myself just to feel like I could fit in, no matter the crowd. I knew I could if I just, “tried.” High school can be very rough, you go through so many phases, and you don’t know who you are. I learned this first hand. You come in with all these expectations, preconceived notions, and you think you have an idea of what’s ahead of you. You don’t. In high school you try to be this person, this person that you think people will like, the version of yourself the people around you want you to be, or the version of yourself you wish you were. You have no idea of who you really are. I really struggled feeling truly comfortable in general, and especially at school. School can be a struggle, in college especially, I’m still struggling, but those moments when it’s not…. it makes everything worth it. If you’re lucky enough to ever find yourself in Room 118, cherish it, please. I didn’t even realize how much it meant to me, how much it changed my day, how much I learned, how much I grew… until it was gone As my senior year ended abruptly so did DTV, my random articles I would type and leave in the drafts, and so did the laughs shared at some of the craziness that we went through. Room 118 is the most accepting place I have ever been in, it takes you in with open arms and wants you to reach the best version of you, genuinely. Sometimes, people say they want the best for you, but often it’s not what’s best for you. It’s not what you truly need for the betterment of you, it’s others projecting what they wish they had, or what you’re expected to do, onto you. When you’re in this room, you know it’s genuine, you know that Mrs. Sarver wants the best for you. Every moment she’s around, you can’t help but feel encouraged, you can’t help but feel loved, and to feel comfortable. Every day was a struggle for me, but for those moments I was in this classroom, everything was okay. Even in my moments of stupidity arguing over minute details over our YouTube show, the outrage of getting our show ‘cancelled’ and then subsequently revived, procrastinating trying to figure out what to do next, I still would do it a million times over given the chance. In my senior year of high school, which is when I first stepped foot in Room 118, I wasn’t even remotely close to the person I am now. I fit the heteronormative expectations of a teenage boy, because I so, so, so desperately wanted to fit in, just for once. I wasn’t educated well enough in sexuality to even understand my own, I lacked self-awareness, and I wasn’t even close to fully educated on feminism at this time either. This is not to say I was ignorant, or acted brash, or that I didn’t believe in any of these things, just that I wasn’t educated to the extent I am now. I could go on for far too long about my struggles with identity, but that’s for another time, and probably another place. Despite all this, I felt loved and accepted in this classroom. This room has a tendency to bring out the best in people. I was able to let my inner-geek out and be able to creatively express myself in so many ways, ways I never thought would’ve been possible for me at Dakota. It helped me grow in so many ways I didn’t even realize until a year later. Since I’ve been gone, I’ve changed a lot, but I can’t say I’m a different person, because ultimately you grow. I’m not afraid to voice my opinion anymore, I’m not afraid to stand up for things I really, truly believe in, I’m able to be the version of me that I truly believe is, well…me. This doesn’t mean I’m perfect, not even close, nor have I really conquered those problems in self-image, and depression that I mentioned earlier. If there’s one thing I can say, however, it’s that this room changed me for the better, even if I didn’t realize it to its’ full extent at first. If you’re lucky enough to be in Newspaper, to have Mrs. Sarver as your teacher this year, next year, or the ones after, make sure you enjoy it. High school sucks for a lot of people, and for me, it was a big struggle, and to be honest sometimes I’m surprised I’ve made it this far. College is it’s own beast, and if you’re reading this, just be grateful you’re not having your college experience online, in your bedroom (also where I’m typing this by the way). When I’m done with it though, and move into the ‘real world,’ maybe I’ll be able to update you. At the end of the day though, when I do think about high school, I cherish 4th hour in Room 118, with the teacher with the pink hair and the kindest heart, and with the classroom that felt more like home than anything I’d ever known to be possible.

Love,

Zariq.