The television and cinematic portrayal of high school were never close to the real thing. There are bullies, yes, and cliques and jocks, but they aren’t as pronounced. They’re subtle and only reveal themselves if you look closely. No one hangs outside around their cars, waiting for the first bell to ring, at least not here. Nor do we have homeroom, though I’m sure it’s a staple in other high schools. And only this year did we get cheerleaders.
This is the day I’ve been waiting for years. The first day of my senior year of high school.
But I’m not as ecstatic as I thought I’d be. I’m happy that I only have one more year of high school, yet sad that it has passed by so fast. Given my notoriety, I don’t want the ride to be over just yet.
But this is the beginning of the end of childhood. In nine short months, high school won’t matter anymore. The Homecoming dances and Proms will be distant, revisited only in our memories. The friends we’ve made will go off and start their lives, never looking back. In ten years’ time, perhaps a few will return for a reunion, but most will be lost, dead, or apathetic.
Deep down, this is what we’ve always thought we wanted– the end of high school. The start of our real lives and, for some, an end to torture.
We always wanted to drive up to school, windows rolled down, our favorite song blasting. We wanted to walk down the halls, acting as if we owned the place. There’s no longer anyone to look up to. We are now the senior class.
As we jump into the fray of our senior year, one of my favorite Latin phrases comes to mind: Ad Vitam Paramus.
We are preparing for life.