Yearbooks are like time capsules—meticulously crafted, obsessively proofread, and filled with the moments that define a school year. Long after Snapchat streaks are broken and Instagram posts are buried under an avalanche of new content, The Salemarion will still be there—proof that this year happened, that these people were here, and that this moment mattered.

But who makes it all happen?

Meet the Salem Community High School Yearbook Team—a group of photographers, writers, designers, and accidental historians who spend their school year chronicling everyone else’s stories, often while staying completely behind the scenes themselves.

It’s time to pull them into the spotlight.

The Unsung Heroes of the Yearbook

For most students, yearbook distribution day is the first time they even think about who made the book in the first place. They flip through pages, point excitedly at themselves and their friends, and start hunting for signatures. But for the yearbook team?

They’ve been living and breathing these pages for an entire year.

"We get sick of looking at it on the screen," admits Mrs. Randolph, the team’s advisor. "But when that first shipment of books arrives in August? That’s the best feeling."

And it should be. Because this is no slapdash, plug-and-play project. Every page is built from scratch.

"A lot of schools use templates," one team member explains. "We don’t. Every design, every layout, every choice—it’s all us."

From photo selection to typography, from color palettes to caption writing, everything that makes The Salemarian unique is the result of countless creative decisions made by students who, until they joined the team, never realized how much they had to say.

Seeing the School in a New Way

The biggest surprise for new yearbook staff members?

"You find out about things you never even knew were happening at your own school," says KJ Engel, who, along with teammates Sarah Morris, Anneliese Aaron, Kylie Johnson, Madison Barringer, Whitney Nguyen, Ameerah Adenekan, Kaia Mitchell, Sierra Blank, Abigail Patrick, and Ava Carter, has been piecing together the puzzle of an entire school year, one page at a time.

"You're forced to know everything," one of them laughs. "It’s like being a journalist, but with better photography."

Yearbook forces students out of their comfort zones. They have to meet new people, attend events they wouldn’t normally go to, and document stories they might never have encountered otherwise.

"If I weren’t in yearbook, I wouldn’t know half the school," one member admits. "I wouldn’t know their names, their faces, or anything about them."

That’s what makes this team different. While most students live in their own corners of the high school experience, yearbook students see everything. They zoom out—literally and figuratively—to capture the big picture.

More Than Just a Book—A Legacy

Even in the era of smartphones and instant photo-sharing, yearbooks still matter.

"It might not seem that important now," one student reflects, "but when we’re older, we’ll want to see what life was like back then. What was happening, what people wore, what we were into. It’s a snapshot of time."

Mrs. Randolph agrees.

"Some people say wise people plant trees they’ll never sit under. That’s what a yearbook is. It’s something that gains value over time."

But it’s not just the nostalgia factor that makes The Salemarian meaningful. It’s the sense of ownership, the pride in creation, the knowledge that they built something that will last.

"It’s an entire school year of work, all coming together in one book," one student explains. "And then we get to see people’s faces light up when they find themselves in it. That’s the best part."

Mistakes, Mishaps, and a Chance to Make It Right

Of course, when you’re managing hundreds of photos, dozens of pages, and an entire school year’s worth of moments, mistakes happen.

Take, for example, the recent “big dress” controversy—a missing photo from the prom spread that, let’s just say, did not go unnoticed.

"Yeah, we dropped the ball on that one," one student admits. "But, you know, when you’re dealing with that many pictures, things slip through."

Mrs. Randolph nods.

"By the time we get to prom pages, everything starts looking the same. You miss things. It happens."

But rather than just shrugging it off, the yearbook team is taking action.

"We’re going to include the missing photo in The Broadcast," they confirm, referring to the school’s quarterly magazine. "It’s a makeup call. A second chance to make it right."

Because that’s what great storytellers do. They capture the truth, celebrate the moments, and—when necessary—own up to their mistakes and find ways to tell the story even better.

The irony of the yearbook team is this: They spend all year making sure everyone else is seen—while often staying invisible themselves.

"Nobody really knows who we are," one student says. "Until they see our names in the book and realize—oh, so that’s who did all this."

But this story is for them.

For the late nights spent adjusting layouts.

For the endless decisions about fonts, filters, and photo placement.
For the creativity, the collaboration, and the sheer effort it takes to make something that will last.

The Salem Community High School Yearbook Team might be unsung heroes.

But thanks to their work, no one will ever be forgotten.