When they say “high school is a rollercoaster,” boy oh boy do they mean it. They mean it in the best ways and the not so great ones. The loops, the flips, the turns, the drops, you feel all of them – and then some. You feel the rises and the falls, the ego-boosters and the confidence shatterers; and the adrenaline. But just like a rollercoaster, high school is not perfect. You don’t always enjoy the free falls and you aren’t always lucky enough to make it in the first car. Still sometimes, despite being deathly afraid of the loops and the rapid speeds, you keep your hands up, hold your breath and take a risk.

Throughout the past years, Bark has taught me more than I have ever known about challenging myself and taking a leap of faith. From small moments such as changing a page layout, to larger decisions like developing a collaborative gun control project, I learned that it is not only okay to feel uncomfortable, but that in Bark, discomfort is accepted, encouraged and rewarded. 

Bark has led me to places I never imagined I would be. In-depth conversations with the Marin County sheriff, talented Redwood ceramicists and local drivers of change, widened my perspective of their work. Hearing from residents escaping their flame-ridden houses and school shooting survivors taught me that saying yes to any opportunities and welcoming challenges leads to endless possibilities.

I have never been part of a class that has felt as much like a family. In Room 177 we lift each other up. We have difficult conversations, but ones that need to be had – ones that unfortunately are not frequently considered discussed elsewhere. 

Since entering the Bark room in August, my life has been changed for the better. I will always remember the countless hours spent in 177, laughing over Barks and Bites, debating editorial topics and crying over last-minute edits with my fellow Barkies.

So to you Barkies: thank you for your curiosity, flexibility, passion and commitment to a craft that is so dear to my heart. Listening to your introspective opinions continues to inspire me and push me to take alternate perspectives into account.

So now, as I close my notebook and sign off from this life-changing community, I know it will not be my last time in this field. I am sure I will open a lens shortly down the road, awaiting my next opportunity to help share the unshared and solve the unsolved – all because of the beautiful art of journalism that the Redwood Bark has taught me.

With peace and love,

Sam Kimball

P.S. Barkies! Always remember … anotha day, anotha journalist.