Last Wednesday, the bell rang above Irving Plaza, signaling that Summer School was officially back in session. Leading the class was the infectious Honey Revenge, but truthfully, for me, it was the substitutes listed just beneath their name on the flyer who walked away with perfect attendance, and Honey Revenge was simply served as the cherry on top of an already unforgettable semester. Once again, I had the absolute pleasure of sitting in on Winona Fighter‘s masterclass in pop-punk, and just when I thought I’d graduated after the last two performances I was lucky enough to witness, the trio somehow found another lesson to teach. Every show feels like opening a brand-new textbook; familiar chapters remain, but there’s always something innovative scribbled into the margins.

Skipping onto the playground fresh off the release of their latest single, “BOMBS AWAY” – the first original offering since their honor-roll record MY APOLOGIES TO THE CHEF – Winona Fighter came out swinging before the first period had barely begun. “R U FAMOUS” wasted no time jolting the room awake, and within only a handful of ripping guitar riffs, the audience came pouring through a sea of raised hands and over the barricade. Security spent the entire lesson scrambling from desk to desk, catching crowd surfers as mosh pits split open like cafeteria tables pushed apart before recess. After the hometown welcome from SAGE and the enchanting beauty of Chase Petra just moments earlier, Winona Fighter marked the unmistakable shift in the curriculum – the exact moment discipline was abandoned, hall passes became meaningless, and detention suddenly sounded like the best place to be.

It’s a feeling that extends far beyond “Summer School.” Every stage Winona Fighter steps onto seems to become their recess, and audiences dash to play along. Their chemistry is effortless, and the voltage they send coursing through a room shocks until resistance becomes impossible. If there were a yearbook superlative for crowd engagement, Winona Fighter would’ve walked away with it in New York City without a second thought. And one of the sweetest details of the evening waited just outside the stage lights: their merch table featured a jar of complimentary pins promoting “BOMBS AWAY,” the very same lavender pin showcased on the single artwork. It was a tiny keepsake, but it made everyone wearing one feel like classmates leaving with the same badge stitched proudly across their backpacks.

At the heart of it all, Winona Fighter embodies punk down to its dictionary definition. The genre has always found purpose in rebellion, but over the years that defiance has matured into a platform for advocacy, and Winona Fighter never hesitates to raise their hand first. The moment of declaration flowed naturally into “BOMBS AWAY,” a song intended to scream frustration loudly. The audience didn’t simply sing along; they answered back. Even though the release is still fresh in everyone’s earbuds, they understood the assignment immediately and undoubtedly earned an A+.

As someone forutnate enough to witness Winona Fighter’s steady climb firsthand, there’s something deeply rewarding about watching the rest of the world slowly discover the very thing that made me enamored with the trio in the first place: their contagious sincerity and never-diminishing dynamicism. No matter how many times they’ve played “Swear to God That I’m (FINE)” or “Subaru,” the excitement never seems to dull. Every performance still carries the joy of a debut recital, regardless of whether they’re standing in a sold-out room or an intimate space. The studio recordings certainly preserve the grit that defines their songs, but seeing Winona Fighter live feels less like listening to music and more like finally understanding the lesson hidden between the lines.

When the set reached its final chapter with “HAMMS IN A GLASS,” Coco defied the classroom rules entirely, vaulting over the barrier and throwing herself into the crowd, drifting overhead as hundreds of hands carried her through the room. The audience instinctively surged closer, determined to hold onto every final flicker of feedback before the bell dismissed us.

I’ve spent the better part of the last year recommending Winona Fighter to nearly every music fan willing to listen, and this time, I finally had the privilege of bringing along friends I’d convinced to join me at the last minute – including one who had never even heard the band’s name before that night. By the end of the set, I caught them crowd-surfing across the barricade with the widest grin on their face. There was no debate left to grade: Winona Fighter didn’t just pass Summer School. They taught the most unforgettable class of the semester.