Dear Editor:

To the BRHS class of 2023:

I have a nesting box for birds in my back garden in England that is home every spring to a new family of baby perching birds. I watch the parent birds noisily come and go from the nest all spring, bringing worms and insects to their chicks once they hatch. Then one day, the adventurous little chicks poke their tiny grey bodies out of the hole in the bird house and learn to fly by flying for the very first time. After weeks of their raucous chirping, the next day the bird house — and my garden — is silent, empty, until the following year when the cycle begins again.

I am reminded of those little birds every year at graduation time when I look on proudly as another group of seniors turns their tassels and leaves the cozy Seahawk nest. It is a cycle that has been turning since long before even I stood in your very shoes on the BRHS stage in 1999, when I and some of your parents collected our own diplomas many years ago. I have done the same thing this year, watching proudly from afar online as you all, BRHS class of 2023, have collected your awards and celebrated your many accomplishments.

You may think your many teachers forget you as you cycle on in your academic journey through elementary school to high school and beyond, but I want you to know that is not the case. You were my final seventh grade class at BRES before I left for England and even though I haven’t seen many of you since your last day of my class, I want you to know you will always have a little piece of my heart. I ran with you, I laughed with you, and sometimes I even cried with you. I will never forget you.

Now it’s time for you to fly the nest. The big beautiful world out here is so lucky to have you. I know you will absolutely fly.

Love Miss A

Lisa Arsenault

BRHS salutatorian, class of 1999

Former 7th grade teacher, BRES