And so another school year goes by: a couple AP classes,
a few too many bad hair days, several missed buses, new friends, classic memories. I’ll get on the bus after school tomorrow at 2:25 and I will be a Senior in high school — the most bittersweet year of my life.
About this time in 358 days, instead of saying, “See ya next year!”, I’ll stammer: “Keep in touch,”. I’ll be trading in my Chromebook for a yellow graduation robe and hopefully spice it up with some academic achievement medals and ropes. I’ll be soaking in my relaxing week at the beach with a couple friends where we’ll already be looking back at our four years of high school — laughing and, yeah, probably crying at some of the ridiculous antics that went down: like lunches in the Publications Office and the radio room, chatting with Lois in the halls, the incredibly embarrassing videos I filmed and edited for the school’s televised news program, and those late nights gallivanting around the empty school on rehearsal breaks for theater productions.
Senior year seems like it’ll be the culmination of my high school years. All my hard work for the past seven semesters paying off big time when over-sized envelopes from colleges come in the mail, going out and buying college gear in bulk, changing my Twitter bio to “*Insert School* ’20”; becoming a member of the school’s Facebook group, finding a somewhat normal roommate for my freshman year, and outlining a plan with my best friends on how we’ll stay best friends.
Of course I can’t be 100% positive about all this, but if I learned one thing from Hannah Montana, it’s this: life’s what you make it (so let’s make it rock).