They Save the Best for Last - Zoe Walsh

Since fall of 2004, the Walsh girls have played an active role in the CHS Panther Newspaper. As the last of three girls, I have the opportunity to wrap up the nine year stretch of Walsh words. If that isn’t an honor in itself, I am also the only third sibling from one family to ever write for the CHS Panther.  But let’s not focus on me.

Let’s flashback to nine years ago, it was an edgy day in journalism class as all the students were engaged in their own conversations and not listening to their wise teacher, Mrs. Watson. Editor Lindsay Walsh sat at her desk and felt Mrs. Watson’s pain. There was a lot to be done. Mrs. Watson decided to step out of the classroom to take a deep breath, but before she left she reminded her students that by the time she got back they’d better have stopped talking and started working. But to Mrs. Watson’s dismay she returned to a situation not every teacher can relate to. A male student had taken two Oreos and placed them on his bare chest while other journalism students were taking pictures of him with the journalism cameras. Needless to say, Mrs. Watson was furious. To this day, Lindsay remembers this moment in journalism vividly. Looking back it’s a humorous story to tell for both Lindsay and Mrs. Watson. 

Fast forward about four years to Haley Walsh, sitting in the same classroom as her older sister Lindsay. As many high school students know, the Walsh girls don’t tan. Somewhere in the genetic combination we missed the boat of beach tanned skin.  Anyway, as the students were creating nicknames, an annual ritual in journalism, they reached my ghostly sister. They didn’t even have to think twice, Moon Beam Walsh it was. My sister Moon Beam, forever known for her white skin.

Today is August 29, 2013. I, Zoe Walsh, sit in the journalism classroom. Mrs. Watson’s memories of my sisters still linger. I haven’t been deemed forever pale by my nickname, nor had any absurd experiences with Oreos… not yet anyway. As Mrs. Watson skims my blog entry, she’s already laughing by the third line. She’s always told me that both my sisters were great writers, but I don’t think they’ve ever had her laughing a mere three lines in. What can I say? They save the best for last.