The Devil's Advocate Online

“Honor the space between no longer and not yet.” -Nancy Levin

More Than Just A Game

By Tavin Harshfield

The sound of metal cleats scraping against concrete and baseballs smacking into gloves has become the soundtrack of my high school years. Long bus rides, late-night practices, and the pressure of close games are memories that will stay with me long after graduation. Playing baseball in high school was never just about wins and losses for me—it became the experience that shaped who I am both on and off the field.

When I first stepped onto the team as a freshman, I was nervous and unsure of myself. I remember standing in the outfield during one of my first practices, hoping I wouldn’t make a mistake in front of the older players. Everything felt faster and more serious than middle school baseball. Over time, though, the game taught me confidence. Every practice, every error, and every comeback game helped me grow thicker skin and trust myself more.

One moment that stands out happened during a tight conference game this season. We were down by one run late in the game, and I came up to bat with runners on base. I could hear my teammates yelling from the dugout while my heart pounded louder than anything else around me. Even though I was nervous, I focused on the next pitch and ended up driving the ball into the outfield for the go-ahead run. The excitement from my teammates afterward is something I’ll never forget. It wasn’t just about getting the hit; it was the feeling of knowing the team believed in me.

Baseball also taught me discipline. Balancing practices, games, homework, and everyday life forced me to manage my time better. There were days when I was exhausted after school, but I still had to show up ready to work. Looking back, those moments helped prepare me for challenges outside of sports, too.

My coach once told me, “The game shows what kind of person you are when things get difficult.” That quote stuck with me because baseball constantly tests your attitude. You fail often in baseball, but you have to keep coming back the next day, ready to improve. That mindset changed the way I handle challenges in life.

As my high school years come closer to an end, I realize the biggest lessons I gained were not about statistics or trophies. Baseball gave me friendships, confidence, and memories I’ll carry with me for years. No matter where life takes me next, a part of me will always miss the feeling of stepping onto the field under the lights with my teammates beside me.

Not Even Bubble Game Can Save Us

By Natasha Forsythe

I have limited brain space, brain space that an evil mastermind hasn’t lasered. Sooooooo, don't die, have fun, high school sucks, and I really hope college is better for my sake. But Mr. Price the Good is making me write more, so let's talk about bubble gum.

Bubble gum is sweet, perfectly pink, and amazing, that is, until it wears off, as all good things do. The first 2 minutes of chewing a wad of bubble gum that's too big is heaven. Your taste buds are suddenly satisfied, and you are starting to get back into the swing of blowing the perfect bubble and popping it without covering your whole face. It’s the same feeling as entering high school as a freshman, the feeling of finally making it to the big leagues. You are settling into classes, catching up with friends and meeting new ones, intimidated by the seniors who seem to have it all together, yet earning your keep. After about 5 months into freshman year, you are 10 minutes into your wad of bubble gum. The sweetness has rubbed off; it's been months of tastelessness, but you just noticed because you found the escape of living on autopilot. By May, the gum is just annoying, and your jaw is starting to hurt; you swear you will never chew bubble gum again because the flavor never lasts. You can’t just stop chewing, though. Maybe you’ll try mint next year. Then you repeat that process (choosing the flavor) for two more years.

By the time you are sitting in your car on the first day of senior year, you have tried 7 flavors of gum over the last 2 years, and they never last long enough. So you sit there and stare at the bubble, mint, spearmint, cinnamon, mint ice cream, fruit punch, grape, and watermelon gum, and you wonder if it will ever feel different. But you try one last time because hope makes everyone a sucker. This time, though, it's mints, a different gum each day, Jolly Ranchers, heck, even fun dips, because you may be a hopeless sucker, but you refuse to be the same person in college. And it works, for a couple of months at least, until bubble gum pulls you right back in. 3 months in, you are chewing muted pink gum that once tasted of hope and promise, but now you taste copper and regret. The gum is over-chewed already, but it's only been a month of bubble gum, so you can’t give up. Suddenly, it’s January, and you stare at the convenience store's gum and candy selection, hoping to find a new gum flavor that you have yet to try. You know anything you try will eventually hurt your jaw, flavor goes away and gets tiresome, and nothing actually helps you focus, but you're addicted to a habit you can never kick. So you pick up sour patch kids and raspberry ice breaker mints, they will get you to graduation, but it will be the same routine all over again, just with a different flavor. So you graduate with a raspberry mint in your mouth and mint, cinnamon, and grape gum on stand-by, just in case.

Don’t go into the next chapter of your life with the same gum, mints, and candies you ended high school with, not even a piece of bubble gum, just in case. Find new candies, even though you’ve exhausted every flavor, try a new brand, and give up on mints; they suck anyway.

Dear Little Girl

By Avery Lenz

Dear Little Girl,

While I prepare to leave high school as I know it at the conclusion of this week, it leaves me thinking back, all the way to the beginning of freshman year. Back to that very first day in high school, back to the girl who had not a single clue of what was to come, and where she would go. Believe it or not, that little girl who thought she had it all figured out and knew everything, she absolutely hated math, and ¨knew¨ her major in college would have nothing to do with mathematics. Newsflash, the woman who is sitting here today typing on her computer and writing you this very story is now preparing to enter the most difficult mathematical degree you could attain. If this reaches you in time, please know these simple tips: it was never that serious, I promise it will all work out in the end, and enjoy the little things!

When you first started high school, scared but excited, you swore the days couldn't go by fast enough, but somewhere along the way, the days blurred together, time got shorter, and now here you are. Suddenly, four years older. Preparing for the scary, but so, so exciting new chapter of your life. Below are some very important lessons I have learned along the way that I believe could save you some heartache, stress, time, and energy. Good luck along the way! But again, I am you, so I know you will be just fine!

First, please know your grades aren't your worth, and you have so many people who love you, accomplishments or not. Second, there will be many times you will love someone but have to let them go. Some hurt more than others, but it all happens for a reason. Third, be yourself, and be boldly you. Because when you are your true self, people will gravitate towards you. You don't have to fit into the ¨standard.¨ Fourth, no matter how much you plan, things will never go the way they are ¨supposed¨ to, go with the flow, and enjoy the curveballs of life. Fifth, have fun. In the big span of things, none of this is really important, and enjoying the time you have while you have it is worth so much more. Finally, sixth, for your graduating year, twenty-twenty-six, don't stress that you have too much time left, it might feel like a century, but I promise you it will never be enough.

Thinking back now, good memories flood in like the sands on a warm sunny beach. Now, time has just barely slipped through my fingers, and I am moving on. Onto new opportunities, new growth, and new places. I'll leave you finally with this: I plan to go into my next chapter with an open heart and an open mind. Ready to face any challenges that come my way and face them with grace. I know, with my drive, anything is possible, and I am determined to do just that. Building the life we always dreamed of. But most importantly, learning to love life along the way, because it's not where you're going, it's how you get there.

Best of Luck,

You, four years later.

Final High School Experience

By Mikayla Peters

Hello, and welcome to my final assignment! It has been a bumpy, long, and excruciating ride that I did not always take pleasure in. With that being said, I am grateful and privileged to say that my career in high school was well spent, and I take away not only education but a new light for myself.

As I write this, you will notice my grammar and punctuation are much better (Price, I’m talking to you). This is because, out of all my education, the one thing that never truly stuck was grammar and punctuation. What did stick was my love for theater. I don’t speak about my feelings in the theater, not because I don’t feel strongly about it, but because I’ve never given myself a reason to. However, I’m finally giving credit where credit is due.

Joining the theater program was like unlocking a new family, a new home, and a place to call my own. Only, you never truly realize that till it’s gone, which is sad, but when you’re on a stage with the rest of your classmates, glowing at the dance party, you see something. A group of sophomores and freshmen students taking a group picture. As you watch from the side, suddenly you're watching your past relive itself just with other people. You once too, took that photo. Realization hits as you see the future of theater is taking a picture together. Something I worked so hard for is being passed down like a torch.

If you asked me as a freshman student what theater meant to me, I’d say not much, just something I got stuck doing. If you asked me now, 650 hours of labor later, I’d say it was a gift from god. I found the more time I spent in that auditorium, the more I felt like I belonged. It didn’t matter who knew who I was or what potential I had. That auditorium, those people, they knew. They knew me, my voice, that slowly then rapidly grew to be one of the loudest, my potential. They knew, and so did that room.

I met so many people and made so many friends, which I will be sad to walk away from. Everyone I ever learned to care about came from the theater, and although I am happy to move on, I will always miss the people and the director. To whom I would not be here if it weren’t for those people. Finding belonging within a group of people was maybe one of the biggest turning points in finding light in my life. Moving away from Chicago, leaving what I thought was a home to come to a place that felt like home, changed me in ways I may never fully understand till I’m old and wrinkly.

So, in my last words as I close this chapter, I will say how undoubtedly privileged I am to have such a wonderful education, friends, hobby, director, and teachers. Words can only say so much of what my heart feels about this experience.

A Different Experience

By Dulce Reyes

High school is a place filled with new experiences, newfound independence, important milestones, and creating new friendships. However, everyone's high school experience is uniquely different. Though there is one thing everyone’s experience has in common. We enter as freshman teenagers, throughout a span of four years, we learn, we grow, we transform, and after what seems like a short period of time, we graduate as adults ready to take the next step in our lives.

My experiences throughout high school have shaped me into the person I am today.

My freshman year self was very dependent on my friends. My whole world revolved around them, especially about what classes they took, what clubs they wanted to join, where they wanted to sit at lunch, which hallway they took to their classes, etc. Four years later, I don’t conform to friendships that are only passively convenient. I built friendships that will build me up, not tear me down. I no longer depend on anyone to pursue what I want. I learned to be at peace and enjoy spending time by myself, taking a breath, reflecting on my day, and planning. I built confidence and found myself over and over again. I learned I don’t need to change to fit into the expectations and standards of everyone else.

As a senior, I reflect on my growth throughout the years. I realize I am very different from the person I was four years ago, and I’m sure my younger self would be proud of who we’ve become. Four years ago, I had no idea who I wanted to be. Four years later, I have a clear idea of who I want to be and who I’ll become. Four years ago, I worried about how others would perceive me and if they would accept me. Four years later, I no longer worry if others are going to accept me; I accept and love myself with all my defects, and that is more than enough for me. I no longer seek validation; I only seek my own well-being and happiness.

My high school experience has been very different from other students’ experiences. In the eyes of many, I’ve “missed out” on many high school experiences, such as homecoming, winterball, prom, post-prom, and other events. Instead, I’ve been an active member of my church, constantly participated in youth retreats, and dedicated my spare time to my family. In my eyes, I’ve lived my high school experience the way I’ve wanted and not the way others expected me to. In its own way, high school has prepared me for the future, and for me, that is the most valuable experience I could’ve had.

My High School Experience

By Lanie Griest

When I started high school, I hated school. I thought it was a form of torture that I didn’t want to be involved in. Then, my mom forced me to join a club, theater, and then another one, show choir.

I was forced to start talking to people again, actually talking to people, not going through the motions, but actually talking to people. There was no other choice but to speak to others, because I had to–there was no other option other than to interact with the people I had to spend hours with. I hated it at first; I didn’t want to talk to people because I didn’t know why it was worth it. It all felt pointless.

Then, slowly, I started to enjoy being in those clubs: I started having fun. I started to enjoy hanging out with friends and participating in activities. I started joining more, doing more, both inside and outside of school. Meaning started to fill the cracks that emptiness once held like poison. I started to understand why people enjoyed going to school–not learning, I still believe the school system is silly–but going to school. To see my friends, to go and participate in clubs.

Meaning bled back into life. High school isn’t easy, it's a rocky road that I stumble on with every step–but it helped. It forced me to not only walk through life but live it in the moment. I was forced to understand why people enjoy talking, going out, having fun, and what it means to live, not just exist.

School is difficult, but it isn’t the worst part of my day like I thought it was. It wasn’t high school that was the worst part of the day; it was being alone. It was existing and not living. It was floating through the days and not stepping. It was being willfully alone.

High school may be hard; it may be difficult to get through, but it forced me to live. It forced me to talk, it forced me to learn to be happy with life. The world doesn’t end; it keeps going. It forces you actually to live if you give it a chance to. I thought high school was going to be torture, some days it is, but high school is also what taught me to live–to not just float through existence as if that was what life is (a little hint? Life is more than that).

402 Words

By Gawain Schaefer

Yogurt-covered pretzels. Take heavy whipping cream, about 300 ml, a tablespoon of vanilla, and ¼ cup sugar, beat it until stiff (with a handheld mixer). Next, grab a regular bar of cream cheese, room temperature, and mix it into the already prepared whipped cream. Add about a cup, or ½ cup of Greek vanilla yogurt, into the mass. Then, take your salted pretzels, the entire large bag, and cover them entirely and place them on parchment paper on a flat surface and freeze for two hours. After that, refrigerate for thirty to forty-five minutes. If you are lactose intolerant, skip the second step and use lactose-free milk or oat milk. If you can’t have soy, maybe make your own pretzels, or look for crepes, grapes, apple slices, etc.

I have learned, in my personal experience, that the things that we as humans learn are imperative to what we do. I have learned a lot, mostly from working in writing mediums, which I use now to write this final piece. Many people might toss an assignment like this up for “a completion grade,” but it matters heavily what your perspective is. It matters what you are willing to care about; everyone should have something they personally enjoy. My relationship with learning is good. I have held a high regard for grades, but it never felt good: maybe my teachers, parents, or friends made me feel a different way than I even did. Although it might sound like I want to push to not do anything in school, to not care about grades or assignments, which, in my opinion, should not even be a concept, but I’m not. I’m saying that throughout your experience of learning from school, it should only really matter when it does, and to find solace and comfort in the skills you develop in the inverse world that is our society in each stage of life.

My experience cannot be defined as a moment, but a river of experiences. A quote from a good friend of mine, from the Eastern Zhou period, Sung Tzu: “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of one hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained, you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

Journalism Final

By Bailey Schultz

Coming into this high school at the beginning of the year was terrifying. Not knowing where any of my classes are, who my teachers are, or who is around me. I had been going to Peotone my whole life, and still hadn’t recognized anyone there. My first half of classes was ok, and then I got to my fifth hour, journalism.

There were ten people in that class, including myself, and most of them were upperclassmen. There was a round table near the window, and that was where four of the seniors sat. I was terrified. They walked in as if they had never left the high school, and I felt like I had just walked into the wrong house by accident. My half of the classroom was quiet. The three underclassmen, including me, didn’t talk very much. There was a senior who never got off his phone, and another who graduated early. At the circle table, though, there was non-stop hilarious chatter. While it was incredibly intimidating listening to them, I did have to hold in my laugh until about halfway through the year, when I finally just laughed with them. Now, they aren’t as intimidating. My half of the classroom is still quiet, but more comfortable.

The other half, while still loud, I am going to miss dearly. That round table has had such an impact on my high school experience, along with a few other seniors whom I am very sad to say goodbye to. I just got to know them, and now they are leaving. Even though I’ve had a year with them now, a single year isn’t enough. Sometimes, I wish they would just flunk a couple of years so we can graduate together, but I want them to live a happy life, so I won’t ask all of them to do that.

I’m nervous for next year when all the seniors I just got to know won’t be in my classes, sports, or extracurriculars. I don’t think any of my high school years are going to be the same as this freshman year, where I connected with all these amazing people who are now leaving me for good (kinda). While I’m very excited to be a sophomore next year, nothing will be able to compare to my freshman year.

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