How Every One of You Made Clever Titles So I Have to Make This One

*WARNING: THIS BLOG POST IS DANGEROUSLY LONG. IF YOU WANT TO READ THIS, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE AT LEAST 25 YEARS OF SPARE TIME.*

Hi guys,
Because I don't like scrolling down to find out who the writer is (and because I might forget to put my name at the bottom,) this is Ian here. Hi! How are you? Okay, okay, enough. I need to talk. First and foremost, I'd like to say that all of you have put out pretty amazing essays. (Yes, I have read all of them.) You all made wonderful ways to express how improv club changed you. And now I guess it's my turn. Okay, okay, enough deep stuff.

It all started when I was in 7th grade and I took Improvisation as an elective. I wanted to explore theater and that was my first choice (fun fact, musical theater was my second. Lucky you.) When we walked in that deep, musty, Castle Hall basement, the first thing I thought was: someone better not turn off the lights. But anyways, class started and we all began that fantastic journey of improvisational acting. While I don't remember many of my classmates, I do know that Teava was in my class. And that he pretended to be a lover of someone at least once. Surprise.

Mr. Wagenseller was loud and crazy but wow, just so energetic and a great actor. He was wacky, out there, but fun. By the end of the trimester, I wanted more. It was fast paced and electric, funny, and a great way to express yourself and have a good time. Mr. Wagenseller let me in on a secret. He was going to start an "improv club." And he sent me one of his famous themed e-mails with the fancy backgrounds that I will never be able to replicate. The first meeting was with Erica, Michael, Mr. Wagenseller, me, and I think Audrey. More might have been there, and sorry I forgot you. We met after school (yeah, really,) in the room where all the musical theater kids danced and sprinted around or whatever. After that first preliminary meet-up, improv club was born.

Over time, it moved to lunch and us first generation kids clustered together. There were only three eighth-graders: Michael, Anna, and Max. But then Max and Anna left. So I guess one. Thanks, Michael! We had such a fun time doing whatever we wanted. In that room, we had a safe haven, a canvas which we could paint our own. Most of the time, that canvas looked like rainbow diarrhea, but sometimes it kind of resembled an actual landscape. Regardless, we did shows (which inspired the future CLS, yes, you eighth-graders, for now, are the future,) skits, and laughed our eyeballs out. In eighth grade, the torch kept burning, with show after show and member after member performing for a very small adoring, cheering crowd of fans. Every lunch was such a great time. Anyways, enough about you guys! What attention hoggers! Back to my feelings! By the time we reached our final performance on the beach, it was finally the end of an era. Middle School CLS had reached the end of its reign (with Mr. Wagenseller.) It was like the sunset to one of the funnest days ever. (Yes, my metaphors are getting annoying.) I was one of the first members and I am so glad I got in the fray. For my memories, I'm really grateful to you guys. You were the ones that supported me, cheered me on, and laughed at my jokes (and horrible sounds in the Alphabet Game. F'maybe!) Thanks for always being there. You guys kept me going and we were an amazing team. We were really like a family (minus the noisy dinner conversations) and I want you guys to know that. Everyone: keep improving! (Maybe we can have a reunion show soon...) Mr. Wagenseller: Thanks so much for being the founder and hard worker of such an awesome club. You've done so much for us behind the scenes that we haven't recognized you for, so we give our deepest gratitude. Kuwait is so lucky to have you. And don't forget: CLS is an amazing place, with no boundaries, no rules, and no end to what we can do. Thank you!

And I will keep this Oscar and never let it go!