Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Thank You For that Subway Sandwich

It's that time of year again: time to write in yearbooks!
Yearbook writing could quite possibly be the most intimidating genre to write. Signing a yearbook is a tall order. The writer has to:
1.) condense a whole year's worth of experience, emotion, and craziness into one short paragraph
2.) do this without sounding cheesy or cliche
3.) not smudge the ink in the process
The process of writing in yearbooks can be tedious and exhausting. It involves trying to find something meaningful to say to people you barely know who ask you to sign their yearbook. It involves walking that fine line between genuine and cliche when composing your message. It involves gerrymandering out space on an already-full-of-signatures page for a signature of your own. It is a hand-cramping, ink-smearing, mind-bending work. Whatever you write will remain permanently scrawled on the yearbook's pages and looked at decades after it is written. It will be read by future spouses and children, scrutinized for use of "old people slang", and proofread for spelling errors. In short, yearbook writing is intimidating. 
As my English teacher reminded us today, this is why it is important to take yearbook writing seriously. Some people don't; they use their block of white space to insult people, cuss out their friends, or simply write lots of meaningless fluff in giant lettering to fill the page. These signatures may say a lot on the surface, but they are hollow on the inside. You only remember these remarks because they are annoying, inappropriate, or embarrassing.
On the flip side, good comments in yearbooks can have high impacts. One of my favorite yearbook signatures this year was "Thanks for that subway sandwich". This statement, which has no meaning to anyone reading this, has deep personal meaning for me. Just a few words resulted in a change of perspective. This is the power of yearbook writing: you have the opportunity to leave an impression, good or bad, on the reader. How you will be remembered in ten, twenty, thirty years is in part contingent on the five or six sentences you scrawl in Sharpie in a yearbook. My point? Craft those five or six sentences wisely.