Megan Stopperan: A reflection on the end of my family’s decades-long legacy at East

Sitting on the corner of 72nd and Mission Rd., my cousin and I, then four years old, could barely contain ourselves. 

We were jumping up and down in our miniature Lancer T-shirts to see our grandfather riding in a blue convertible as a former East teacher and football coach. During the 2007 Lancer Day Parade, we wanted nothing more than to be like him — a Lancer.

Graduating or working at Shawnee Mission East is a right of passage in my family, as there’s been someone attending or employed at the school in 43 of the 63 years it has been open.

We were raised as Lancers from the start. I could sing the alma mater before I could spell my own name and have seen East play football an inordinate number of times.

And finally, I will close the chapter, at least for this generation, of being a Lancer.

Between the 14 of us, my family has spent a combined 76 years at East — resulting in far too many legacies and memories to recall them all. Little souvenirs of my family’s time at East hide in the halls of the school. I point out the memories to anyone who’ll listen, from the wrestling award named after my grandfather to the two lockers my dad had senior year to my sister’s name in the StuCo room.

Even as the little pieces of my family collect dust and have no descendents left to take notice, the legacy still lives on in a more figurative way. Being a Lancer isn’t something that just goes away, it’s an honor that lasts a lifetime.

I’ve watched countless family members leave the halls of Shawnee Mission East only to carry on the everlasting traits that are synonymous with Lancers — kindness, determination and teamwork.

East has been a second home to me for my entire life, and I don’t want to leave it behind. So I won’t, I’ll carry the Lancer spirit in my heart as I go out into the world — just like my family’s done before me. The school song speaks the truth — “Lancers we will ever be.”