PANTHERthe
2025 CLASS OF
Sara Paredes
I became a criminal at the age of six. Standing at the checkout counter at the Museum of Idaho, I was hypnotized by the rainbow-colored mood rings and enviously watched my older cousin purchase one with her “big-girl money.” So, I stole one.
I learned my lesson. After a few hours of crying, flaming hot tears of shame and bruised ego staining my face, my uncle drove me right back to the scene of the crime. With my 4’8” body barely peeking over the counter, I reluctantly slid the ring across and returned it.
I eventually acquired some “big-girl money” of my own — birthday money, allowance and pennies scrounged from selling my American Girl dolls to my neighbors. By sixth grade, I could confidently walk into my local jewelry shop and make very sophisticated purchases, including a coveted $38 “Rose Birthstone Ring, October.”
This birthstone ring slowly ingrained itself on the middle finger of my right hand. The ring never came off, and an indentation appeared on my finger over time. Years passed, and the metal lost its shine but maintained its mold on my hand. The ring broke last summer. After staunch loyalty to this metal tchotchke, a new ring soon took its place, like a new puzzle piece to fill the vacancy on my hand. I am starting to understand how the trinkets, tchotchkes and talismans I have collected over time come together: they shape a puzzle in the shape of my timeline. Without realizing it, the museum experience had impacted me in more ways than one.
My peculiar puzzle, not the jigsaw kind built at Christmastime or the mind-bending New York Times ones online, is made up of pieces passed down and gifted to me. My puzzle is living, breathing. It evolves, each piece maturing and changing with me. Picture teachings of syncretism in history class: applying centuries of cultural evolution, growth and exchange of ideas across the world’s great empires to individual experience.
A gold-plated Maile leaf. Passed down from my grandmother to my mother and
then to me, the necklace charm represents our shared middle name, Maile. I wear it proudly on special occasions, the same way two generations of unapologetic, well-educated women have. They blazed a trail for me: my grandmother instilled values of educational excellence in my mother, who raised a daughter with an assertive, take-charge leadership style.
The huayruro jewelry, made of little red beads of good luck, attached to a note from Abuelita Yoly: “Te quiero mucho, mi Sarita Chiquita.” A vibrant culture full of energy and life, this puzzle piece creates an invisible string to the fútbol fanatics and ceviche connoisseurs of my Ecuadorian heritage. It joins complex dynamics between a father and his daughter, connected by a beautiful language, tested by the facts of life. The global link I was raised with opened my mind to a life in international service, and gifted me the hidden superpower of bilingualism. I carry it on a keychain every day.
Intricately X-stitched, V-patterned and beaded bracelets spelling out “Agapé”: “Unconditional love for others.” A place where acceptance comes without question, where empowerment and self-love are paramount, Chimney Corners Camp creates the round parts of my puzzle. An open circle, the magical place is home to feminism, friendship bracelets and memories that linger year-round.
“Messy, syncretic, eccentric, round.” These adjectives describe the shapes of the jewelry and tchotchkes that map out my life — pieces to a larger puzzle that help answer the daunting question: “Who are you?” To some, I am Sarita. To others, I am just Sara, with no “h.” To the reflection in the mirror, I am still that sixyear-old delinquent — whose birthstone ring no longer stands alone — excited to grow her collection of trinkets, lessons and experiences, remembering where she comes from and wearing each with pride.
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Since I learned how to read, my life has been defined by books, whether it be an important lesson I learned or an all-consuming obsession. From “Knuffle Bunny: A Cautionary Tale” to the Harry Potter series, books have played an influential role in most of my life. Throughout high school, I have read several books that defined my experience that I believe every teenage girl should read.
The first book I read in high school that had a tangible impact on me was my freshman year summer reading book, “The Glass Castle” by Jeannette Walls. This told the story of a girl who lives an unconventional life, with a dysfunctional family that was never able to set their roots in one place. It was difficult for me to digest this book as a true story because I had never considered that someone could live this life that was so vastly different from mine. It taught me the importance of learning someone’s story and being open-minded. No one can tell where someone comes from just by looking at them. Everyone has a different story and influences that have led them to the person they are today.
Then I read “The Grace Year” by Kim Liggett, which taught me about the importance of unity amongst teenage girls. In this Handmaid’s Tale-esque novel, it tells the unique story of teenage girls in a dystopian society that are sent away for a year once they reach ‘maturity.’ In a society that so often pits teenage girls against each other, it is important to remember that we need to work together to
Brooke Wilensky
achieve our goals and protect each other. I learned to be grateful for my female friends who support me and celebrate my achievements.
After reading “My Life On the Road” by Gloria Steinem, I learned to appreciate the effort of and honor all the women that came before me. If women like Steinem and Flo Kennedy did not exist, I would be living a vastly different life. They helped pave the way for outspoken and successful women and gave women’s issues a space in the media. I have taken this lesson and applied it to the women in my life. My mother has set an example of what a strong, successful woman looks like, and I am in awe of the way she is able to lead while still uplifting all the people around her. Having a successful mother that I am able to learn from has made my journey as a woman much easier.
The most recent book I have read that taught me an important lesson was “On All Fronts: The Education of a Journalist” by Clariss Ward. As a journalist, Ward got up close and personal with some of the darkest aspects of war, yet still approached it with humanity and empathy. When watching an international conflict unfold from America, it can be difficult to understand the emotional and physical impact it is having on the people that are experiencing it first hand. This book taught me to have empathy for all people living through a war, whether I agree with their stance on it or not.
Life as a teenager is difficult, full of new experiences and major life changes. Through these books, I have learned the importance of being grateful for everything I have and approaching every person and experience with empathy. I am going to keep the lessons from these books close as I go off to college and embark into my future career.
Ava Stuzin
To others, turning 18 means new excitement and independence, the start of adulthood. For me, though, turning 18 means finally getting to have a say in the future of our country and the decisions behind it.
Despite never having voted in an election, I consider myself politically active, always staying updated on current events and even getting hands-on experience in local elections.
Over the past four years, I have been exposed to several perspectives and beliefs, allowing me to form my own political opinions. Through debates in class that occasionally escalate into an argument or simply having a conversation with friends on what is happening in the world, I have become not only politically aware of the government, but what impact it has on me and my peers. These experiences shaped my personal and academic interests, and continue to inspire my future career path. Now, as I head off to college in the nation’s capital as a business major on a pre-law track, I want to become involved and make a change directly on Capitol Hill.
If one ever feels strongly about an issue, it is up to them to speak up and advocate for change, regardless of their age. As cliché as this sounds, one of the most important lessons I have learned in high school is that in order to solve anything, one needs to stand up and take action.
Whether you have no interest in politics, everyone should be informed on what is occurring on a daily basis. As a four-year staffer of The Panther, I have learned of the growing importance of journalism and the necessity for people to read the news and listen. Whether it is through social media or listening to a teacher, staying informed allows people of all ages to remain interconnected to the world around them.
While I originally applied to The Panther as an eighth grader, not knowing what this would mean for me for the future, I have grown to love and respect journalism. As I begin
to prepare for the next chapter of my life, I am thankful for my time on The Panther and what I have learned. The class has not just helped me improve my writing, but also helped me meet new incredible people and mature in a new way.
These past four years on The Panther have been more than just a class every B-day, but a new love and learned respect for journalism. Despite not majoring in anything related to journalism, writing holds a special place in my heart and is something I look forward to continuing by joining my university’s newspaper.
I cannot wait to continue writing, whether for a class paper or just for fun. Combining my love for writing and passion for politics is something I look forward to continuing in my next four years in college.
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Starting my first day at The Panther in sophomore year, I was consumed with excitement and nerves. I was happy to be starting my first year of newspaper, and nervously waited to find out what positions I would receive on staff. I was filled with surprise when I opened the envelope and saw Photo Editor written next to my name. I had of course put on my application that I was open to this role but I never expected that I would get it, as I had minimal experience with a camera.
My surprise turned to excitement and I quickly became enthralled with learning everything I could about taking pictures. My mom helped me with this journey by buying me a secondhand camera, something that launched my passion. From then on I took advantage of every opportunity to take pictures for the newspaper or for my personal life.
That first year on newspaper was some of the most fun I have had these past four years. Sitting with Maddie and watching Red Hot Chilli Pepper videos and rooming with Luna on our New York Trip provided me with the fondest high school memories I will always have. Being selected as the Senior Multimedia Editor at the end of sophomore year was one of the first times I truly felt proud of my work, and it motivated me to continue taking photos and even consider pursuing it in college.
While I do not plan on majoring in Photography anymore, I hope that I will be able to carry that creativity with me into any future career or my own life. I have discovered how much joy it brings me to take pictures of my friends and family. Taking a picture of my friends, or random people that ask me, makes me happy to capture all the different moments.
Looking back, I think about how different my high school years would have been if I did not join newspaper or was not placed on the photo team. It has introduced me to a hobby I will carry for the rest of my life, and also gave me a community within the school.
As I go on to the next step of my life, I know that this experience will be something I carry with me and the type of
Emilia Haus
class or club I seek out. I look forward to seeing what new leadership and staff will do. I know I will miss the underclassmen, but I can confidently say that they will continue The Panthers’ legacy and probably do it with more ease than we did.
Alexis James
When I started high school, it looked like I had it all together — friends to sit with at lunch, people to talk to in the hallways, and a smile that made everything seem fine. But behind that smile was someone who felt invisible. I was often excluded from plans, leaving weekends lonelier than school days. I poured energy into friendships with people who did not value me, simply because I thought I had to — we had grown up together, our families were close, and we shared similar goals.
Everything changed the summer after freshman year. I joined a six-week trip along the west coast with 40 kids I had never met. Within days, these strangers became some of my closest friends. We kayaked the icy blue waters of Lake Louise, surfed in San Diego, and shared eight-hour bus rides where the only entertainment was each other. We lived together, laughed together, and opened up to one another in ways I never expected.
For the first time, I felt truly seen. I told them about my struggles at home — how I felt on the outside despite seeming like I was on the inside — and they understood. They did not judge me or make me feel weak for being vulnerable. Their acceptance helped me realize that having a few real connections is far more meaningful than being surrounded by people who do not make you feel heard.
On the final morning, my 4 a.m. airport departure loomed. I expected to leave quietly. But when I walked downstairs, all 39 kids were waiting in the lobby to say goodbye. In that moment, I knew what true friendship was: being treated in ways that make you feel valued and loved.
I returned to school with a new mindset. I stopped chasing people who made me feel small and focused on surrounding myself with those who brought me joy and made me feel whole. That choice changed everything. In that I found my best friend and people who truly love me for me. Additionally, the people I once thought I
had to win over began gravitating toward me — not because I tried to fit in, but because I was finally being myself.
That trip also sparked a deep love of travel. Exploring new places and connecting with new people has taught me more about myself than I ever imagined. I have since traveled to Israel and across Europe meeting new people, and I now hope to pursue marketing and international relations — blending my passion for communication, culture, and connection.
SenIOr deSIgn edItOr
2:15 p.m. I uploaded The Panther paper’s Senior Issue with “2024 Forever’’ plastered in a red, graffiti-styled font on its cover. I sank into my chair with a big sigh. It was finally done. Within seconds, however, I was swarmed with millions of complaints and last-minute fixes. “Mia, you’re going to kill me, but…” I knew what my teacher would say, and so I went back to my established routine: Indesign, Acrobat, Google Drive, repeat.
2:30 p.m. School was over, leaving me in a desolate classroom. To top it all off, after numerous tweaks, I worried my laptop, struggling at 5%, would crash as I tried to push through Wifi issues. Unbeknownst to the rest of the staff, I had already stayed up all night and worked through my other classes to get this done just shy of sixth period. Finally, at approximately 2:50 p.m., I gleamed as my teacher called the printer: “Our issue has been sent.” Serenity washed over me.
In the spring of my junior year, I was named Senior Design Editor. Although I was overjoyed, I knew the daunting tasks that lay ahead. Every May, The Panther customarily honored veteran panthers throughout the issue, with the feature allowing each senior to write a special homage to their high school experience. Feeling a frisson of excitement, I realized that in the end, all 24 pages were my responsibility.
I spent hours sifting through our website, browsing archives of old print issues and analyzing fonts, photo placements and color schemes. After some self-deprecating jokes and many YouTube tutorials, I knew I could do this.
When the issues arrived on May 22, I leaped across the classroom to get a first look. I flipped through the pages of the seniors at Wynwood Walls, vibrantly colored names soaring across the spreads, each one emblazoned in unique colors that suited their personalities—coral pink for Isabella’s page and red for Nicole’s.
Two years on The Panther, dozens of tutorials on navigating the Adobe platforms and so much trial and error introduced me to a world of balancing intense time crunches with my love of
learning.
Mia Shields
Being put on the design staff was terrifying; I had no clue how to handle an InDesign crash, let alone piece together an entire spread. But I came to learn that all my fears drove me to success. But when I assumed the design role on The Panther, it drove me to push through something I was not naturally gifted in and expand my horizons. While the thought of being a senior designer two years ago would have terrified me, now, I am forever thankful for the experiences and work ethic it has instilled in me.
Aayana Baid
The metamorphic power of community often reveals itself in unexpected ways. Experiencing Camp Kesem has been a transformative part of my life. Kesem: a non-profit organization dedicated to ensuring that children touched by cancer never feel alone. Kesem is more than a commitment — it is a way of life, rooted in personal connections to its mission. Witnessing individuals passionately unite around a cause gave me a sense of hope and belonging I never knew I needed. Kesem will remain a part of my life, with a dedication to giving back to an organization that has given so much to me.
This dedication to service has shaped my broader commitment to social change. Through peer-to-peer advocacy and outreach, I have gained experience in mobilizing people around shared causes. Whether it is supporting children through Kesem or creating educational opportunities in under-resourced communities, I have seen how meaningful engagement can create lasting impact. Recognizing that local middle schools lacked journalism programs — a vital part of developing critical thinking and media literacy — I created and implemented a journalism curriculum for over 20 students at Touching Miami With Love, a community outreach center. What began as a gap in educational access became a sustainable, annual program that continues to equip students with practical and empowering skills.
My passion for journalism runs deep. High school introduced me to the discipline, helping me distinguish between fact and fiction in a media landscape often clouded by misinformation. Joining my school newspaper opened my eyes to how easily single stories can dominate public understanding. It also gave me the platform to amplify voices and perspectives often overlooked. The thrill of collaborating with peers, mentoring new writers, racing toward print deadlines and knowing my words could spark thought or change is irreplaceable. Journalism has not only taught me the value of truth but has also provided me with a sense of
purpose and community.
Looking ahead, I aspire to merge business innovation with social good. I believe that financial sustainability and social impact are not mutually exclusive. I have seen how access to opportunity and networks can shape someone’s ability to develop talents or pursue ambitions. I want to be a part of reshaping those systems — to use entrepreneurship, journalism and advocacy to address systemic inequities and empower communities.
Looking ahead, I see my future as more than just my next educational step — it is where my commitment to social impact will find its home. I will develop into a business leader who understands how to create meaningful change while maintaining financial sustainability. I am not only excited for the difference I hope to make — I am equally inspired by how the journey will shape me in return.
SeniOr VideO editOr
When I was younger, there was one radio station I would not let my mom turn on: The Grateful Dead Station. I pleaded to listen to other music that I believed sounded better. I argued with her that if we could not listen to Taylor Swift, there would be no Grateful Dead playing either. I always took music recommendations seriously from my mom, but at the time listening to her favorite band was a big no from me. The bands and musicians she eventually got me into played a pivotal role in my life as I grew up. The countless concerts we attended were life changing. But when she first asked if I wanted to go see Dead and Company, the band created by former members of The Grateful Dead, I was reluctant, although I later agreed.
When the day finally came, my parents and I flew to New Orleans to see the concert. Due to my “dislike” for the band, I had never listened to any of their songs, so I basically went in blind. On the day of the concert, it started pouring and storming the moment I woke up. My mom reassured me that the show would go on and they would not cancel. The band was playing at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival that year, so we made our way to the festival grounds. I was dressed in rain boots up to my knees and a red raincoat, ready to take on the storm. As I trekked through the mud, I started thinking about how everyone here had one large similarity: we all loved music. Even my introverted self felt seen at
Madeline Volpe
the music festival, and for once I was not worried if I was dancing awkwardly or if everyone was staring at me. I felt a sense of peace at the festival, besides the large strikes of lightning I could see as I cascaded through the crowds to finally obtain the perfect spot for the show
With my umbrella in hand, I stood in a crowd counting down the minutes until I finally saw the band that my mom had admired since before I was born. They finally walked on and opened the show with the song “Truckin.” As I listened to the band play, not only did I loosen up to the music, but I sensed that I entered a community where everyone was themselves. I felt that there was no concerts, and that everyone just breathed in the music that was being played. For once, I was comfortable dancing at a concert. I left the concert with a huge smile on my face and a new found love for a band that I never thought I would actually enjoy. That day, a part of me grew out of my introverted shell and stopped worrying about what others had thought because at the end of the day, we all had a similarity in our love for music.
Luna Garcia
When I was little, Spanish was easy. It was quick, loud and full of energy, just like my family. Back then it was not just a language, it was a part of me. I lived with my grandma until I was six. Her house was surrounded by my big Colombian family, where every day was a party filled with music and laughter. Everything changed when my mom remarried and I moved in with my British step family and began to drift from my grandmother. I spent less and less time with them, and eventually, the Spanish that once rolled off my tongue started to become a chore that I could not do, much less wanted to do. I did not realize how much I lost until it was almost completely gone. What started as a pre-teen rebellion and not wanting to always be with my family turned into a disconnection from my family, culture and a part of myself I did not know I needed.
As a kid, Spanish was a way to connect with people I love the most, it was more than just a language. I spent most of my childhood around my loving Hispanic family, but as I got older I wanted to get closer to my step family who did not speak any Spanish. Spanish went from an everyday thing to something that was only spoken during the holidays when I visited relatives. Initially, it did not bother me because I could still understand everything my family said and I could get away with a few words and sentences, but when I tried to have meaningful conversations with my family, the words came out wrong and my accent would go in and out. I started to feel so embarrassed, making me close off from the language even more. It felt like I was losing a piece of myself that I could never get back. It was time to reconnect with my roots.
In the summer of 2023, we took a trip to Colombia to see where my mom comes from. As soon as I got off the plane everything felt different. I felt connected to the country’s culture and language. We drove two hours to Barranquilla and met my mom’s family. I got to see where my grandparents grew up and where they lived. I loved how festive and open the community was. At first, I was so shy
because I did not want to mess up while speaking to them, but they did not judge me. Even though it was my first time meeting some of my family members, it felt like we had known each other forever. As my time there went on, I could feel my Hispanic roots and it was an amazing feeling. It was not just the words coming back, but like a part of me had returned with it.
Arriving back in Miami, I was so worried I was going to revert back to my old ways and lose some of the Spanish I had just regained, but fate had its own plan. A few months later, my grandmother who does not speak English moved in with us. Ever since then, I was forced to speak Spanish every day, not only to my grandma but to the family members that came to visit her every week. It started to feel just like the old days. Now I feel more connected to my roots and culture than ever before.
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As an African American “girly-girl,” I have the privilege of changing my hair whenever I like. Whether it is braids, sew-ins, installs, natural 4b curls or a silk press, I get to change up my hair, and I do … a lot.
When I was young, my mother did not know how to do my hair. Although she was born and raised in Jamaica, my mom permed her hair from the age of six, so she never experienced the type four curls that are prominent among African Americans. However, she wanted something different for me, and I ended up learning how and loving doing my hair.
I love my mom, do not get me wrong, but with her limited experience, everything was a mess. When I turned 13, I began watching YouTube videos titled “Hairstyles for Black Girls.” Since I grew up in predominantly white areas, it was difficult to get a vision of what my hair should look like.
After braids and locs, I started experimenting with those first. I loved it. While it was too expensive to get professionally done, I did my hair all by myself and finally felt confident. I did different colors too, getting to live out my young Barbie dreams of being blonde or ginger like my favorite Disney princess Ariel.
I did my hair like this during freshman year. But then sophomore year, I changed it up. I started to experiment more with my natural hair. I did my own silk presses, added an excessive amount of beads to my hair to make it pop — I deeply regret adding that much now — and found curly hair routines that fit my head. I was ecstatic. I was finally starting to feel more confident in my own hair and was excited to come to school every day and see my friends’ reactions.
The confidence only grew from then on. Entering junior year, I started to do installs. I enjoyed doing installs as it made me look more mature. I got to change up the texture of my hair AND the color — double combo — which was a truly exhilarating experience. Now, as a senior, I do it all. I love changing up my hair because my hair truly is a representation of me.
Savannah Byles FEATURE
On my way to California, ready to attend college in San Diego, I have already found black-owned hair businesses in the area. During high school, it was easier to manage my time; I could afford to spend a day’s worth doing my own hair. However, I know in college it will be a lot more difficult, so I appreciate the various hairdressers in the area who I have to learn to trust with my token.
I am protective of my hair, because I am protective of my identity. The subject of “hair” is tricky in African American culture, but only because there are so many ways to express black excellence through it. I am grateful that my mom did her best to make sure I appreciate my hair and what it can do, because without her, that little girl with the messy hair would have never known what confidence feels like.
Emily Steele
On the first day of Kindergarten, I sat at a table of four. We were given icebreakers to learn more about our classmates and at the end of each day we were encouraged to play together on the playground. Since the start, I began to recognize this pattern. From the group projects and the clubs to field trips and the people you sit with for lunch, we have been born and bred to form friendships and close relationships with the other kids at school. We grow up with these people we have known for years through elementary school, middle school, and high school. One day we will join together as a class one last time, be handed a diploma and earn the title of high school graduates. I remember when that day felt so far away, but currently as I am writing this, that day is so close that I can almost reach out and touch it.
The late-night drives with all my friends piled into one car and the collective voices all singing the same song, mixing with the swarming air coming through the rolled-down windows. We are loud and our hair is a mess, but we do not care because all that matters is the song on the radio and the people you are with. The Friday night lights football games where we each took turns putting face paint on each other. The homecomings and prom we spent weeks finding dresses and tuxes for and being asked, “What are your plans after high school?” and not entirely knowing the answer to that. The hallway crushes, the promposals, getting handed our driver’s license, all of it. When love felt lighter, the days felt longer and the only thing we worried about was passing a test.
In a month from now, this will all be memories. The halls you got lost in on the first day of freshman year, the classes you liked, the teachers you did not, the best friends you met and the high school romances. There is a part of all of us that hopes we can stay this young and carefree forever, even if we do not recognize it yet.
Maybe someday I will run into someone I used to know from high school in a grocery store and I will see the way the sun has
aged their skin and the smile lines etched into their face from years of laughter. We will have gone on to be husbands and wives, some of us will be mothers and fathers and someday we will have white hair and talk to people about the friends we used to know from high school. I will remember that the only thing separating us from those teenagers we used to be, and the formed adults who have been compromised by the future we used to talk so much about, is time. The only difference is that now you are something you love and understand, we are all the same but now we are people that have done things and have stories to tell. Troubles will have come and they will have passed, we will have loved and lost, failed and succeeded — and it will all be so different.
I know now, and I hope I know in the future, that I will always have high school. Some may say your life does not truly start until you graduate, but high school is where your youth blossoms. I truly believe high school is where I created myself. But my hope is that I will see a familiar face once again and the way their voice gets higher when they are talking. Or I will get a small whiff of perfume I used to wear in high school or a favorite song I listened to every day until I was sick of it. There will be a pause in time where it feels like the years have melted away and it was just yesterday that I was so young and possessed, only the kind of freedom you can get from your adolescence. And for a moment, it will feel like no time has passed at all.
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The summer air going into freshman year felt nice. Windows down, a slight breeze shook my blinds, filling my room with a serene hum. It came to me as I aimlessly scrolled on Spotify. I clicked the “add playlist” button and titled it “Freshman.” No plan, no aesthetic, just a title. Every new song I found, I added to that playlist, associating that song to that year. Little did I know, I created a time capsule. This soon became tradition, and every year until senior year, I made a new playlist — Sophomore, Junior, Senior — each one built slowly, song by song, memory by memory. They were not just playlists. They were diary entries I did not know I was writing.
Freshman year was the era of The Strokes. I grew up with my dad blasting “Last Nite” around the house, but that year, I dove deeper into their discography, hoping to expand my music taste for this new era of life. I threw on my baggy jeans, beat-up Adidas and eyeliner, grabbed my wired headphones and headed out the door. “Someday” and “Reptilia” shuffled as I drove to school. By the time I got to geometry, I fully immersed myself in their very first album “Is this It?” It became the heart of my playlist. The album felt messy, exciting and full of firsts I did not know how to process. “Trying Your Luck” remains my favorite. Discovering that album gave me comfort and exhilaration that I cannot fully explain — a feeling only music can create, where suddenly everything feels bigger.
As basic as it sounds, Harry Styles’ new album “Harry’s House” dominated my sophomore year playlist. I had been obsessed with him since his One Direction days and followed his solo career, falling in love with
Helena Kawamura
his music. He released his most recent album the summer before sophomore year, becoming my most-played artist for that whole year. I remember exactly how I felt when I heard the first beats of “As It Was.” I hit play and immediately cried, jumping around my room with joy. Sophomore year was not my favorite, and having that album to come home to gave me a place of solace, a place where I could escape.
Early into junior year, I accidentally discovered the brilliant Adrianne Lenker. During a late-night Spotify deep dive, I stumbled upon her song “Anything.” The second I heard the mellow guitar picking, her soft-spoken voice, and poetic lyrics, my mouth dropped. I fell in love with her writing. Her music carried a certain sadness but not the bad kind. It was a nostalgic sadness, the kind that made me miss things I had not realized I lost yet. I introduced her to my entire friend group, and one night, we played “Not a Lot, Just Forever” in the car, and it felt like the music pulled us together spiritually as we loudly sang along, held each other’s hands and laughed when the song ended because it hypnotized us.
The Senior playlist goes to Charli XCX and Troye Sivan. My best friend and I impulsively went to their concert this year with no tickets, hoping to score some at the box office. Somehow, they had a few left, and every day I thank myself for saying yes. That night changed everything. We danced for two hours straight, no breaks, letting the music completely take over. It felt like a giant nightclub, with hundreds of people jumping together. It felt messy, chaotic and perfect. Since then, every time my friends and I go on late-night drives, Charli XCX’s album “Brat” album is the first on aux, a ritual to keep that freeing feeling alive.
Lilianne Fernandez
I once thought that growing up as a middle child was supposed to alter who one is as a person. I realized at the age of four that I was the typical middle child and I am proud to say that. I may not be as rebellious as middle children are typically depicted, but I believe my love for silence and quick wit comes from being bounded by two complete opposites.
I see my family as a math equation. My sister + my brother = me. That is why I was born second, bringing the two variables together. My siblings are entirely different, with my older sister being a smiley girl who is also an insanely talented artist and my younger brother being the sweetest athlete I have met. I am the sum in the equation of my family.
While I may technically be an artist, my hands could not grasp the idea of a paintbrush, so I opted for a pen. I danced for 10 years of my life, grew bored and moved to soccer, grew bored once again and decided to stick to running on my own time. I retired from my time in the dance room and on the field and moved to a newsroom and field reporting for my school newspaper.
The part of the familial equation that seems to be inequivalent is the love of attention. Whenever my sister’s art was put on display, she proudly stood next to it, shaking hands with viewers ooh-ing and ahh-ing at her work. My brother takes the helmet taps in the dugout and loud cheers every time he hits a home run. I, on the other hand, do everything in my power to stay out of the limelight. My pages and pages of writing grasp the attention of readers while I can stand back and observe as an onlooker, without needing to shake hands with every reader or deal with the commotion of cheers as they read the last sentence on my page.
A good journalist receives attention differently than an artist or athlete does. While an artist receives awards and public praise and an athlete wins medals and loud cheers, writers gain a beautiful kind of silence. The words
I spend hours typing achieve silence, showing the reader is truly “living” through the endless lines of ink on the page. The impact of the words I aimlessly type leave a meaningful impact on the reader.
That is why I love the quiet. The art of utter silence from a reader brings me immense joy; I have continued to look for this quiet in my daily life. When readers hand back my written work of art and respond with silence and a look of awe written on their face, they signal to me that I have written something worthwhile. On my way to school at 6:30 a.m., I drive with only the rumbling from my engine. On my afternoon run, I listen to the bustling sounds of the wind and my feet tapping the ground. As I shower, I listen to the soft sounds of the water pattering on the tile floor. Readers flip through pages silently, taking in each word like a warm hug.
As the middle child, my exploring journalism is about as rebellious as I will get; after all, journalism is a strongly criticized profession. Keeping my thoughts on a page has allowed me to shy away from the loudness of the world, pulling me from the blasting music of a dance room and the roaring screams of the soccer field, right into the tickling sounds of a keyboard. Journalism was the missing variable I needed to complete the long-running equation in which I view my life.
neWS editOr
The first time I remember going on a plane was a tumultuous experience. I do not remember how old I was, but I must have been three or four years old. My family was in the process of almost being kicked off the flight because my twin brother did not want to put his seatbelt on. Eventually, that got sorted out somehow and the last glimpse of memory from that day was us lifting off the ground and feeling the indescribable sensation of being in the air.
Ever since that day, I have been hooked. Growing up, I was obsessed with planes. I had plane toys, I played plane video games and I would watch every plane video I could find on the internet. I built a fake airport in my house and I would pretend to fly planes all over the world. From Madrid to São Paulo or from Kathmandu to Timbuktu, it varied from any place I could find on the map I had in my room.
Five year old me and 18 year old me have that same dream: to be a pilot. Not for one day has that dream or passion gone away. As I have learned more about what it actually means to be a pilot, the interest has only grown. The ability to travel the world for free and fly cool machines is almost too perfect to be real, but it is.
As I leave the bubble of high school, my job is to turn this lifelong dream into a reality. The good and bad news are the variety of ways to get there. Each path has its own benefits and drawbacks. All are headache-inducingly expensive.
The two main options are either a Part 61 flight school or a Part 141 flight school. The rundown is that Part 61s are not attached to a university but offer more flexibility, and Part 141s allow you to get a degree within the program but are more rigid in their structure. Part 141s also offer pathway programs that can give you benefits with certain airlines while in college, like a travel stipend or a guaranteed job out of college.
These options are not mutually exclusive, which is why I am doing both.
Justin Fechter
In high school, I joined a local flying club where I am working on getting my Private Pilot’s license, the first rating every pilot gets. Then, in the fall, I am going to the University of North Dakota to get my degree in commercial aviation.
Working on my license has felt like the manifestation of over a decade of dreaming. The excitement of knowing that I am almost done training, that I can then fly whenever and wherever I want is hard to put into words. Since I am almost done with training, I have already gotten to do things I spent my whole life dreaming about.
My first solo flight was a surreal experience. That was followed by the insanity of being able to just show up at the airport and fly a plane, by myself. My first solo cross country where I flew to Marco Island and Naples was unforgettable. In Naples, dealing with the busiest airport I have ever been to, watching dozens of massive jets land, still in awe of the machines I dream of getting to captain one day.
As I flew back from Naples, the orange glow of dusk set in. I honestly almost started to tear up. At that moment, I stopped thinking about the years of training I have ahead of me. I looked at the Everglades 5,000 feet below and with perfect clarity, knowing that this was everything I thought it would be like and more. Any doubt or worry that had built up throughout the process was gone. My love and passion for flying will never go away and I picked the exact path I am supposed to be on. It was in that moment I confirmed what I already was 99% sure of, that this is what I want to do in life.
Jake Hawkins
Coming into high school, I did not think there would be any way I would join the school newspaper. Having been persuaded by my AP World History teacher and Miami Palmetto Senior High icon, Mrs. Farkas, she thought I would work well in The Panther. Still recovering from a terrible buzz cut, a nervous freshman went to the infamous room next to the attendance office and took an interview that landed him a spot on The Panther 2022-23 staff.
I never really talked to anybody my first year on staff, as a lot of the staff was vastly different from my usual friends. I just kept to myself most of the time and focused on my work, and I only started to talk to more people in the class toward the end of the year. It took a long time to get outside my comfort zone and truly establish myself on staff, but my junior year, I started to talk to everyone on staff much more. The Panther gave me the opportunity to be around kids that were the polar opposite of my friends; it added an escape from the usual perspectives and opinions I was accustomed to hearing from all my friends outside of newspaper.
The Panther gave me a class where I enjoyed being able to do work for something that I could really commit and give purpose to. Something that felt personal when published, something that felt like it had my style and exclusivity linked to it. Being able to see the hard work pay off is rewarding; seeing that my drill rap story that I watched a two hour documentary for becoming the second most read online story on the website made me want to work harder. Not just on The Panther or in school, but in life in general. It is always the small things that build up and contribute the most to one’s success.
Looking back on my high school career, I think The Panther is a small reason I was able to succeed in my AP classes, as well as other random aspects of life outside of school. The Panther most definitely contributed to my growth in high school as a
person and student, and helped me through tough times. Ms. Aviles was always a great mentor and always had mine and the publication’s best interest in mind. She is also a huge reason for my growth, always giving me advice and direction, whether it be for a story or a question about life in general.
One of the biggest things I learned through high school though was to savor the moments. Nothing lasts forever, and making the most of opportunities and taking risks in life is the only way you are going to get where you want to go. So, thank you to The Panther for making the risk I took in freshman year worth it and something I will always cherish.
deSign editOr
The concept of having confidence and courage was something I had not yet grasped until the end of my highschool career: senior year. I thought that in my heart, in order to be happy, I had to learn how to please others before I pleased myself.
For most of my life, I was inarticulate about the things I truly stood up for. I was pessimistic and indecisive. Growing up as a Black girl in society’s ever-changing cycle, the fear of being perceived as less was something that came natural to me. I was afraid of having my own story and of being in spaces where I was not often represented. Most importantly, I had no confidence in myself nor my future.
In April of my sophomore year, Ketanji Brown-Jackson was nominated to be a Supreme Court Justice by the Biden administration, and became the first Black woman ever to serve in this role. When I found out she had been a Miami Palmetto Senior High alumni, a motion to “do better” came running through my mind. A vivid image of what could be me, someone as accomplished as her was what fed into my desires of being an outspoken person for myself.
My movie-postered, collectable-invasive and comic book shelved room became a vision board in itself for me. Every remaining day of sophomore and junior year, I wanted to invest in myself — I wanted to become a person with a sense of individuality.
Upon reaching out to peers for advice, the obvious gap between my academic and extracurricular rigor to theirs became extremely clear. Though disheartening at first, I told myself that comparison is the thief of joy — in which it exactly is. With my new philosophy, I began to inch out of my shell and dedicated myself to being involved.
In due process, I discovered The Panther Paper. I was never involved in a big MPSH activity my first years of high school. Yet, the opportunity to become the expressive person I wanted to be was present, so I applied. Being congratulated and becoming an addition to The Panther staff felt nothing but
Jazmin Mason
rewarding to me, as if the 180 I had wanted was starting to manifest itself.
When an acceptance letter from Florida State University came into the mail, it was validation of every doubt and determination. From joining The Panther to becoming the first in my family to go to college, each decision I made the summer after junior year until now has been me trying my hardest to build my path.
FSU is my next chapter, and it is where I plan to keep growing, creating and leading. I no longer feel like I am waiting for life to happen to me. I am writing my own future — and this time, it is loud, proud and fully mine.
MOST LIKELY TO TRAVEL THE WORLD
SENIORS:
Their College Decisions & Panther Superlatives
MOST LIKELY TO STAY IN ON A FRIDAY NIGHT
MOST LIKELY TO BE LATE TO GRADUATION
MOST LIKELY TO BE PRESIDENT
MOST LIKELY TO WIN A GAME SHOW
MOST LIKELY TO BECOME MS. AVILES
MOST LIKELY TO BE A WAG
MOST LIKELY TO BE ON SNL
MOST LIKELY TO SURVIVE THE HUNGER GAMES
MOST LIKELY TO TALK THEIR WAY OUT OF A TICKET
MOST LIKELY TO BECOME AN INFLUENCER
MOST LIKELY TO HAVE THE HIGHEST SCREEN TIME
MOST LIKELY TO BREAK A WORLD RECORD
MOST LIKELY TO COMPETE IN THE OLYMPICS
MOST LIKELY TO LIVE OVERSEAS
MOST LIKELY TO END UP ON SHARK TANK
Dear seniors,
Throughout your time on The Panther, you have led, inspired and created such a united and welcoming community that makes the newspaper what it is. You have constantly been an uplifting spirit in the classroom, building morale as well as fostering an environment where we can share our passion for journalism. Since our first times on staff to now, the encouragement and learning opportunities provided to us have given us the tools needed to lead the next group of staffers. Our confidence and positive mindset is a direct extension of what we have learned from this graduating class. From Sara’s AP Style Guidelines poster that hung in the room as a reminder to maintain proper grammar and writing style, to Mia’s last minute heroic saves of our print issues during critiques, to this past month of guidance, collaboration and friendship from leadership, we truly could not have asked for a better Class of ‘25 to share our years on staff with. This May is the culmination of all your joy, tears, celebration and hard work from the past four years, and saying we are confident that every single one of you will do exceptional things after graduation is an understatement. You are all incredible journalists, you are all amazing role models and you are all welcome back to Room 1124 any time.
Edie Carneiro
editor-in-cHieF
Gabriella Alvarez editor-in-cHieF
Eleanor Harris
MISSON STATEMENT
The Panther staff aims to inform fellow students and parents about school-wide, local, national, and international news. The Panther’s content aims to represent the student body. Editorials feature the opinions of staffers. Features of other students, teachers and clubs further promote the spirit, culture and personality of Miami Palmetto Senior High School.
EDITORIAL POLICY
The Panther is a monthly publication of Miami Palmetto Senior High located at 7431 SW 120th Street Miami, FL 33156, (305) 235-1360 ext. 1124. The views expressed are solely those of The Panther staff. Students who wish to respond to an article in this publication or discuss another issue may write letters to the editor and submit them to room 1124 or e-mail us at s.paredes.thepanther@gmail.com. The Panther has professional membership in NSPA and CSPA. The Panther prints 1,000 copies per issue for distribution. The Panther is distributed for free to all students in school. Please visit our paper online at thepalmettopanther.com.
BYLINE POLICY:
All creative work (such as illustrations, graphics, photos and writing) excluding staff editorials and staff member pictures will include byline credits.
ADVERTISING POLICY:
Ads will be designed by the advertiser and include all information the advertiser wants included. If the advertiser asks the staff to design the ad, the individual who sold the ad will design the ad or the Business Manager will. Ads will be approved by EICs, the Adviser and the Business Manager. If an ad produced is illegible, contains false information, or the advertiser does not like it, they will receive a free ad in the next issue. If you would like to advertise, please contact us.
The School Board shall comply with all Federal Laws and regulations prohibiting discrimination and all requirements and regulations of the U.S. Department of Education. The Board will enforce its prohibition against discrimination/harassment based on sex, race, color, ethnic, or national origin, religion, marital status, disability, age, political beliefs, sexual orientation, gender, gender identification, social and family background, linguistic preference, pregnancy and any other basis prohibited by law. The Board shall maintain an educational and work environment free from all forms of discrimination/harassment, which includes Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972. Title IX prohibits sexual harassment and other sexual misconduct such as unwelcome touching, graphic verbal comments, sexual jokes, slurs, gestures or pictures. All students, administrators, teachers, staff, and all other school personnel share responsibility for avoiding, discouraging, and reporting any form of prohibited discrimination or harassment against students by employees, other students and their parents or guardians, or third parties. This policy prohibits discrimination and harassment at all School District operations, programs, and activities on school property, or at another location if it occurs during an activity sponsored by the Board.
