II don’t even want to be writing this.

As the last original Velocity member, graduating from Moraine Valley feels like I’m giving my own child up for adoption. I know that sounds dramatic, but Velocity has given me more than I could have ever hoped for: experience, memories and countless friendships.

After I graduated high school in 2022, I was beyond excited for college. However, I could have never predicted just how much Moraine would mean to me. That is all because of Velocity. At Fall Fest in my first semester, I discovered the newspaper, and I joined to become the design intern the following semester.

There, I met some of my first college friends and one of my biggest supporters, Professor Couch. The first months of being part of a publication were so rewarding. I got to meet new people, do what I love, which is design, and so much more. When Couch announced her departure from the publication and possibly journalism as a whole at the end of the semester, we immediately knew it couldn’t end there, which is when the idea for Velocity was born.

During the summer of 2023, the “Fearless Four”–Niki, Juan, Aidan and I–worked hard to create the vision for Velocity. You might wonder why four students would take time out of their summer to work on creating a publication instead of going to the pool or relaxing. That just proves how much of a personal labor of love Velocity is.

Everything we do in this publication is because of our own passions. We write because we want to create and put our voice out into the world. We design because we want the publication to succeed and live up to how high quality every piece of writing within it is.

Every single idea that has been brought up in room D135 has been supported and encouraged not just by my peers, but especially by Professor Couch. To have a professor who pours her energy into each and every student and truly sees the best in them is rare, and I am so grateful to have someone like that in my life, mentoring me and setting me up for success. I like to call her my second mother.

There are no words that can truly describe how much of an impact Velocity has made and will continue to make on me, even long after graduation.

The publication started with just seven staff members, but I have seen that number increase every semester, making my heart feel fuller and fuller. Even though it’s a little terrifying to pass the torch and move on, all good things must come to an end. And thankfully, Velocity will be in great hands.

It is painful to imagine no longer being excited to head to class every Tuesday. Being able to walk into a room and feel loved and respected is something I can’t describe; but the feeling is and will always be mutual.

Not only am I leaving Velocity as a better designer and leader, I am leaving as a better person. Now that I’m ready to enter the workforce, I am confident with the strong foundation Velocity has given me. Would I have had this same experience if I ended up going to an art school or university? I’m honestly not sure.

Every semester of Velocity, I have met some of the most impressive people I have ever had the privilege of knowing. And you know what makes that even better?

I get to call them all my friends.

Thank you all, for everything.

Moraine Valley and Velocity have opened my eyes to what life can be. During my two years here–which I now struggle to accept are over–I explored something that kept me grounded when “despair on a never-ending loop” felt the most apt definition of life. Writing.

Beyond putting words on a page, being surrounded by those who instill belief in you and want to aid in their peers’ success has taught me that people aren’t as scary as I once thought. 

I only caught wind of Velocity thanks to my former math professor, Mr. Piercy. Two years ago, I was regularly visiting his office hours to make sure I passed the subject I loathed most. One afternoon a couple weeks before summer, Mr. Piercy, who knew my major was journalism, forwarded me an email from Mrs. Couch. It was a call for students to join the college magazine.

A quick response saying Velocity “would love” to have me and an invitation for a phone call made it easy to forget the nerves I had about reaching out to Professor Couch over email, who I learned before anything else was “just Couch.” Merely proud of pushing past the mental block I had about self-advocacy, I didn’t have the slightest clue in that moment as to how that simple feat would change the course of my life. 

Being a part of a student publication is oftentimes more of a second job than solely a hobby or extracurricular. Time spent working on each issue after our scheduled class time and outside the classroom altogether can eclipse the hours spent studying for a big upcoming exam. To me, something that’s made Velocity very special is that all of it is voluntary. 

Doing only what’s required to achieve a desired letter grade is an approach that will hinder your experience if applied to Velocity–which has been a proving ground for me. It’s a testament to the idea that what you put into your work and your peers is what you’ll get back. Your only true limitation is yourself. 

Everyone in Velocity carries themselves and treats each other as if this idea is constantly front of mind. Semester after semester, that’s what makes classmates turn into dear friends.

The relief you feel after week 16 doesn’t take long to wear off. The joy of winter or summer break is bogged down by the realization you won’t hear your classmate go on an impassioned rant or ramble this week. And neither will you go on one of your own at minute 25 of what’s now become a class-wide discussion and venting session. 

You never thought you’d miss sitting through Couch’s lecture to start each class. The ones she says will go only about 15 minutes, but really wrap up a quarter of an hour before some of your classmates have to leave. But, you miss having someone who makes it their mission to personalize a pathway leading to success. You wonder if there’s any content pitch too unusual for Couch to help you make work for a Velocity audience.

I would sign up for daily Couch speeches if I could, because the one-on-one brainstorming, editing and injections of motivation result in an end product worth all that and more. A vibrant student publication that will forever stamp students’ time at Moraine. Feelings of reward and gratification that are euphoric at their peak, and that you know you can’t find anywhere else in quite the same way.  

High school was the worst time of my life. I’ve written about it in essays ad nauseam, and my phone’s notes app probably hates to see me coming at this point. But Velocity is the reason I was able to put high school in the rearview mirror. Career and education opportunities I’ve taken advantage of. Recognition from professors, universities and professionals in my intended field. The chance to be seen at angles equally uncomfortable and validating. And a chance at redemption.

I would not be in the position I am today if Couch and all my peers over four semesters never entered my life. To be in a room where you’re appreciated, accepted and valued is a privilege I will forever be grateful for and never dare to take for granted. They are the reason I’ve been willing to challenge myself and pursue my goals along this journey. Most of all, they’ll never know the part they played in me still being here today. 

Everything that’s come my way thus far, I can say I earned because of the confidence they’ve given me. I know I can be successful wherever I find myself next, and I can only hope future Velocity-esque people out there find me. What I’ll carry with me most departing Velocity cannot be quantified in a literal nor metaphorical sense. My one chance at life now feels like it’s been turned into two. 

Like starting anything new, the opportunity of joining Velocity was uncomfortable, exciting and slightly daunting. After Mrs. Couch approached me and introduced the idea, it took some time for me to be fully on board. But after some thought, I reluctantly registered for the class in my second semester at Moraine.

All I expected from a one-credit-hour course was more of a club-like meeting where we’d meet in a class for an hour, talk about what we’d like to write about and then go on with the week. 

That was what I got, and then some.

What I didn’t expect was the interactive student-centered learning experience. The one hour on Tuesdays from 3:30-4:30 p.m. normally would extend beyond, from to 2-6 p.m., and conversations in that room trailed from the news we discussed to general interests—our favorite shows, songs and happenings in the media.

That’s where the magic is made.

As much as we discuss and learn about reported news storytelling–the politics and stuff–we were also a cultural publication. We had the freedom to discuss current events and branch off into analyzing media such as songs, movies, TV shows. I would always get a rush when realizing that I could pitch a story about some new show and put a different lens on it for analysis. And then there was the rush of being a literary writer and having other people read my stuff–a feeling that’s scarce as a new writer. 

I learned more than I expected. I learned that broadening my horizons as a writer from strictly academic and literature genres to news and journalism would help me become more well-rounded. 

I was always a reserved student in high school. I accomplished high grades and did what was asked of me, yet I rarely connected with my peers or my teachers. Come college, I had expected, and wanted, that to change.

The gen eds in my first semester weren’t challenging. Again, I was falling victim to only doing what was asked of me. I was going to be an accounting major. For anyone with interest in the arts, it’s easy to see why I became so cripplingly depressed.

The only class I engaged with was COM 101 with Eric DeVillez, a professor my creative writing teacher from high school had recommended. In DeVillez’s class I wrote an essay I ended up submitting to the Skyway literary competition, which resulted in Mrs. Couch approaching me and convincing me to do Velocity. This chain of events is what got me back into the arts after my one short stint with my draining accounting classes. 

I would like to thank Couch, the end of the chain that yanked me back into the arts when I was foolishly letting my left brain take control over my passion. 

Velocity completely subverted my expectations of a fruitful secondary education experience. The push for connection, the encouragement of critical thought and conversations of any variety are the reasons we have something with a soul in it. 

The messy, unorganized structure always added the human charm that we needed in this age of generative AI trying to infiltrate the arts. The people in this class are human. And what I’ve learned in my time studying the arts is that humans are inherently creative creatures. 

From back when we used to draw symbols on stone tablets all the way to now with our podcasts and online articles, writing has always been about the language that we created so that we could understand each other.

That’s what Velocity is—it’s human. And because of that, it’ll forever be etched in stone.

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PHOTOS BY AMHAD HADAD