As a girl with a serious, perpetual fear of being tardy, walking into school approximately 30 minutes before necessary in the morning isn’t unusual for me. To most, this half hour may seem like an insignificant portion of a long school day, but it’s much-needed time for me. Yes, it’s typically spent in the journalism room eating a ziploc bag of Honey Nut Cheerios, catching a 15-minute power nap or finishing work I procrastinated on for class, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Through the hustle and bustle of the morning hallway, it’s easy to recognize the comfortability of students in the place they call their own. Aside from the few stragglers that manage to, without fail, arrive rushed to the sound of the warning bell every day, you’ll see a group of friends in the Upper C hallway playing ukulele, a seemingly endless group of boys flooding the locker banks, another group of boys scarfing down breakfast in the cafeteria and some that rather sit in the parking lot, dreading the day. For me, although it took over two years, I found that place in C-101, literally and figuratively. I found a physical place to sit down out of everyone’s way, but more importantly I found a home among peers who persistently encourage me to seize the day ahead. Or, at least just power through it.

I could argue that some of my greatest friendships and self discoveries began in this setting. I’ve formed relationships with people I was previously so confident I could never relate to or even hold a conversation with, but was able to find a common interest in journalism with. I’m beyond thankful for Kathy Habiger for allowing me this daily space and both Dorothy Swafford and Jerry Howard for happily unlocking the room whenever I need it, as I again tend to arrive quite early. It’s the little things at Mill Valley, like that special place you spend those seemingly irrelevant minutes before class, that truly make it so great.