Have to admit--this is our 12th High School Yearbook (as an adviser, not a student, silly!), and we're always proud in the end. It's the route we take each year to get here that's usually Less-Than-Idyllic. We had relatively few bumps in the road this year, however; fingers crossed that no mad-as-hornets Mama Bears (what Your Scribe terms Moms of Seniors--scary to behold when they perceive that Their Cubs have been wronged!) will cross our path as the pages of this year's book unfold to the multitudes.
So, for now, the smell of the Freshly Minted Yearbook fills the Journalism Suite, & The Cherubs are sufficiently juiced to be downright pleasant. A few seniors even started the "awwww, shucks" routine today. Yearbooks mean the end of the school year, and for the seniors Yearbooks Mean The End. They've been going down Memory Lane for several weeks now; reality is just now starting to set in. They graduate 2 weeks from today!
We're gonna savor the peace while it lasts. Distribution is open to seniors and juniors tomorrow, followed by the sophs, then the lowly froshies, as the week progresses. Don't worry--Your Intrepid Scribe will come through this relatively unscathed. We always do!