Until my senior year, I had labeled myself a Nobles student without ever really embracing what that meant. I went to class, did my homework, and figured that was enough. I reasoned that there wasn’t much else to the high school experience. But, by golly, was I wrong. Fusing yourself with the Nobles spirit sounds like it requires some bygone ritual only known by texts hidden within the secret chambers of the Castle. Thankfully for me, this isn’t the case, and chances are that most students already embody the Nobles spirit without even realizing it. So, for the freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and maybe even the seniors who feel like the only connection they have with our school is the Nobles nametag, fear not: I am here to give my best shot at offering you just one of many solutions. 

My story begins in the humble year of 2022, my freshman year, and the first time away from classmates I had known my entire life. I wasn’t sure of what to do when I first got here, who to talk to, and, most importantly, what to explore. I spent that year moving with the crowd, exclusively attending big-name events such as Fallfest, the Freshman-Sophomore dance, and the like. Meanwhile, I skipped what I considered smaller events, such as the orchestral performances and sports matches. At the time, I thought all sports were boring (go sportsball), so I passed on those entirely, and I missed out on far more than I realized. With my freshman year logic, “less popular” meant “not worth watching at all.” 

Eventually, I gave up on events altogether. I had fully convinced myself that going to class and studying was enough for me, and if I regretted missing out, I could always just go the next year. That assumption of mine, that there would always be a “next year,” was a worse mistake than deciding I had enough time to go to Dunkin’ during my Wednesday ten-minute break.

The fascinating thing about senior year is that experiencing it makes you realize how short your time at Nobles is. Now, that may be the most cliché thing ever said at any high school, and I cannot tell you how many times I have heard it from seniors or teachers over the years. But the sad part is that it doesn’t feel true until it is, and I think that everyone eventually arrives at that same realization. My moment of realization came on Senior Orientation Day. We were split into small groups, each sitting in a circle on a tarp, and it suddenly hit me: we had one year left, and then that would be it. No big reveal, just a really disappointing revelation. That was when I understood there was no “next year” left to rely on. If I wanted to go beyond wearing just a Nobles nametag, I had to start then. So I did. 

Now I don’t remember what my first real “event” was after this revelation, but that’s not the point of this story. What matters is I showed up when I hadn’t before, and I did it time and time again. Upon reflecting on this change in mentality, two events stick out to me as times when I felt most connected to the heartbeat of Nobles: Friday Night Lights (FNL) and former Performing Arts Faculty Michael Turner’s Farewell Concert. FNL is a staple of Nobles, and dare I say it’s the most important of all Nobles events. I always heard great things about it: the electricity, the camaraderie, but most importantly, the pink. The pink was something everyone talked about, but I knew nothing about it. I’d seen it on Instagram posts, but nothing compared to seeing the sea of fuchsia with my own eyes. Being there  — surrounded by so much noise amidst all the pink shirts, hats, and face-paint — showed me that the thing that made up this mysterious Nobles ethos that had eluded me for so many years was simply showing up. It took no effort at all, and thank God that night was so fun because the realization that I had missed out on something so effortlessly fantastic felt like a punch to the gut that had a three-year-long windup. 

Now, Farewell Concert didn’t pump nearly as much adrenaline into every capillary in my body as FNL, but that is precisely why I appreciated it so much. Student turnout was significant but less intense than FNL. Despite this, seeing all the graduates, teachers, and some incredible performers show up for someone who gave so much to the school was genuinely meaningful — and the fact that the music was incredible didn’t hurt either. I got to see some alumni I hadn’t seen in months and had some great food. It was this much “smaller” event that meant just as much as the big rootin’-tootin’ spectacle that was FNL. I saw firsthand that this community, even at the smaller scale, was so incredibly tight-knit and entangled; I would have missed out on all this had I not been there. Showing up changed my whole perspective on what the Nobles community even was, and as it turns out, the community was just every single one of us choosing to show up.

So, if there’s one grandiose message that personifies all that I’ve learned about Nobles, it’s to show up, be there, and there’s not much else to it. If you’ve yet to give it a chance, or you think you’re better than it, or whatever the reason may be, just go and do something with the community — anything works.