Looking back at the impressions woven into my youth, I’ve rediscovered a collection of quirky hobbies and odd talents born from a wildly imaginative childhood. Many change significantly as they grow up, but, mentally, I think I am still the same exuberant, creative, and new-idea seeking little girl. Many attest to the transformative nature of growing up, yet I find myself still seeking the imaginative essence of my youth.
When I was younger, I spent a lot of time alone. My sisters had already graduated and moved out, and I didn’t exactly fit in with the girls at school. I was a tomboy, a little strange and was constantly wanting to try new things. With few friends and lots of free time, I dove headfirst into anything and everything that sparked my curiosity — and I never once got bored.
I taught myself magic card tricks and started collecting decks — thousands of dollars’ worth now hidden in my closet. I performed full scenes from the Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniles’ classic, Dumb and Dumber. I knew it by heart, and once got pulled from class so I could reenact it for the front office. I built Lego cities from scratch and started a YouTube channel to review them… until sixth grade, when kids at school found it and I came home crying. I taught myself to solve a Rubik’s Cube in under two minutes. I memorized the entirety of the song, Alphabet Aerobics, while learning to land a backflip. I skateboarded until I was bruised, being the only girl at the skatepark, while filming more than a few terrible home movies.
But it was always about storytelling. That’s what all of it came down to.
When I picked up my first camera at 7, something clicked. I started making little films, documenting everything. Grocery trips, backyard adventures, fake commercials — my house was a constant film set, and my family, the ever-patient cast. That love for storytelling led me to broadcasting, where I found my people and my passion. Being Executive Producer let me turn chaos into creativity, and I loved every second of it. It was no surprise when I ended up in our school’s broadcast and media programs — first behind the lens, then editing, producing, scripting, and now in the newspaper.
Whether I’m holding a camera or writing a profile, storytelling has always been my throughline. It never mattered whether the story was being told through a video, a voiceover, a headline, or a photo. It just mattered that it meant something. That it could make someone feel something, and even me.
That’s what I’ve loved most about being in student media: the chance to turn chaos into something compelling. Something that connects us. Something that lasts longer than a passing period.
My high school career didn’t go the way I thought it would — two ACL tears will do that to you. But maybe that was the point. Maybe it was never about the plan. Maybe it was always about discovering that storytelling was an outlet for me all along.
So here’s my senior goodbye. A thank you to the weird little girl who never stopped exploring. A thank you to every teacher who gave me a platform. A thank you to every camera, every keyboard, and every deadline that helped shape the voice I’m still discovering.
I’m not leaving with medals or trophies. I’m leaving with something better: a thousand stories, a heart full of memories, and the same creative spark I’ve had since the beginning. My time in high school has been a time of exploration and a time to discover more about myself than I expected. I hope to continue to hoan my passions at SMU–but most importantly, to never forget the wonderful dispositions of my youth. Many say they change as they grow up, but now as I am 9 days away from graduating high school, I can confidently, and proudly say that little girl who just wanted to have fun and stopped at nothing until she learned new things, is still the same girl writing this goodbye.
For the last time, FNR,
Chloe Smith
Class of 2025
