When I was in school, many, many years ago, almost all of the students purchased a yearbook. We waited in anticipation for it to come out, and I can remember sitting in my bedroom looking at every page and every picture. Even years later, I still pull them out and reminisce. In some cases, those are the only pictures that exist of groups of friends and the time we spent together, so I’ve always held a special place in my heart for yearbooks.
Which is why, in my second year of teaching, I became the yearbook advisor. This year, I produced my 30th yearbook for McGuffey. For the first 20 years, approximately 85 percent of the students purchased a yearbook, but it’s a different story now.
Kids have phones and social media, and they document almost every minute of their lives. They aren’t interested in a yearbook with a limited number of pictures, so it has become progressively harder to sell the contracted amount each year. We went from selling more than 250 yearbooks a year to selling just 108 this year.
About 10 years ago, the principal told me that the future of yearbooks was digital, and I couldn’t imagine a time when people wouldn’t want to hold an actual book in their hands and flip through the pages. He was right. The future seems to be digital, and yearbooks are slowly becoming outdated.
Ironically, students today probably have more photographs of themselves than any generation in history. Every sporting event, every lunch table, every weekend outing, and every funny moment seems to be documented. Yet I sometimes wonder how many of those photos will still be around 20 years from now.
Thousands of pictures sit on phones, in cloud storage, or on social media accounts, but they are rarely organized into a story.
That is what a yearbook has always done. It captures a year in time and tells the story of a school community. It is more than a collection of pictures. It is a record of friendships, accomplishments, activities, and memories that might otherwise be forgotten.
As the yearbook advisor, I have watched students flip through old books from decades ago. They laugh at the hairstyles and fashions, but they are also fascinated by the students who sat in the same classrooms and walked the same hallways long before they did. Those books connect generations in a way that digital images simply do not.
Of course, I understand why yearbook sales have declined. Families are dealing with rising costs, and students have endless digital options competing for their attention. A yearbook is no longer viewed as a necessity. For many students, it feels like just another purchase rather than a keepsake they will treasure years later.
Still, every year when the books arrive, I see students excitedly searching for their pictures and their friends. They pass the books around, collect signatures, and spend time looking through pages that represent an entire year of their lives.
For a moment, they disconnect from screens and engage with something tangible.
Maybe the principal was right and the future of yearbooks is digital. Maybe one day students will scroll through an online version instead of turning pages. But I hope there will always be a place for the traditional yearbook. Thirty years after becoming an advisor, I still believe there is something special about holding memories in your hands.
Technology has changed the way we record our lives, but it hasn’t changed the importance of remembering them.
Editor’s note: According to information provided by the major yearbook companies, nationwide 92% of students bought a yearbook in 2000.
