Let’s be honest here. February can sometimes be a slump. It’s not quite Spring Break, but it’s also not close enough to Winter Break for us to be well-rested. No one would ever venture to call February nearly the end of the year, and yet it lacks the excitement of the earlier months.

There are still three and a half months of school left, so I did not think that I would begin to have to say goodbye to Archer just yet. However, with the feeling of impending graduation, everywhere I turn is a “last.”

Last week, the seniors celebrated their last Color Wars (which wasn’t so bad because it was also only our second one). But President’s Day weekend, I said goodbye to a major part of my high school experience at Archer — the debate team.

Back in freshman year, I joined the team with about eight other girls in my grade. Rolling up to my first tournament, I literally quaked with fear. All of the kids seemed so grown-up in their polyester suits and shoes three sizes too large, so I made my mother walk me into the cafeteria of a huge school in Torrance.

Ms. Babin, the coach at the time, had candy on the table for us, along with bright yellow paper to take notes on during our rounds. Archer has a relatively small debate program — we go to almost exclusively local tournaments — but it has provided me with such a huge community.

Over the years, our team has swelled in size, changed leadership, moved classrooms and transformed greatly. What has remained the same, however, is the questionable fashion choices of debate boys. Oh, and the wonderful sense of family, too. But it’s hard to deny that teenagers in formal business attire is a sight to behold.

When I told my debate partner of four years, Ciel Torres, that I was writing my column about debate, she instructed me to write about our “thriving partnership.” That is an apt description, I’d say — Ciel, if you are reading this, thank you for a highly memorable collection of vlogs, Google Docs, enemies and blisters.

Even if you aren’t a debater — and most of you are not — when you are a senior, you will understand how weird it is to realize that every day at Archer has a tinge of goodbye — the last Feb. 11, Feb. 12, Feb. 13! The last time it will rain! The last time I will lose my Archer sweatshirt!

In the next few months, I will have my final orchestra concert at Archer, my last Jane Austen Society meeting and yes, my last column, and that thought is scary. Some things will be harder to leave than others, but in the meantime, I will fight to get through what can be a very tedious February.

And on March 1, it is officially acceptable to be planning Spirit Week costumes. All I can say is, get ready, Archer!