I honestly still don’t know the purpose of a Rube-Goldberg Machine. What I do know is it’s supposed to do a task in the most complicated way possible, and it will likely drive one to a stressful and painful unsatisfactory end.

As I sit here writing this and eating my last choco taco at Benilde St. Margarets, I reflect over the past year as a senior. There were good times, and crazy times, and ridiculous times. And I would probably trade these experiences for everything they’re worth. Just kidding.

First hour physics woke me up every morning with a snap, or any other type of explosion. Sitting in the front row, I always was the one who was supposedly eaten by a lion, or drowned in my car underwater––I’ve died a lot in that class.

Dressing up as Thomas Paine, or T-Paine as I like to call him, had to be one of my highlights of the school year. AP European History had to be the scariest and best experience; through learning about the guillotine and getting our heads cut off, to watching movies about Danton, that class made my life.

I never knew what I was doing during wellness. I did meditation, where I slept. Then cooking, where I ate. Then yoga, where I meditated. Finally biking, where I worked out like nobody has since the winter time because they’re too cold to leave their fireside drinking hot cocoa. Or maybe that was just me…

Through all the lack of sleep, random journalism stories, crazy projects, and French culture points, BSM has given me some gifts that I probably would have rather not received, but have accepted wholeheartedly. I’m going to miss BSM––the real reason I love this school is because of the people, who we are as a class, a school, and a community in general.