Since my freshmen year, and even before then, I’ve been instilled with the belief that once I reached that final year of high school, all my dreams would come true. I would have easy classes with teachers who would give me no homework. I would be at the top of the high school totem pole, and all those below me would stand aside as I walked down the hallway, bowing before my senior power. I would be nominated, finally, for Homecoming, WPA or Prom queen and my boyfriend, who I would be immensely in love with and one day marry, would be the king. My social life would rock and everything would be perfect.
Unfortunately, here I am, senior year, and all these fantasies have failed to materialize. My classes are the farthest thing from easy. My teachers don’t care that it’s my senior year and are giving me hours of homework each night, more homework than my freshman, sophomore and junior years combined.
No one bows down to me as I walk by; in fact, they bump into me and don’t even say sorry.
I am not the Homecoming, WPA or Prom queen, and my boyfriend won’t be the king. He doesn’t even go to this school; he lives 45 minutes away, and we both are so busy that we hardly get to see each other.
Social life? Don’t even ask.
As you can imagine, my natural response to this was vulgar and unprintable. Senior year was supposed to be the best year of my life, and I was already ready for it to end. But then one day it hit me really, really hard: This is my choice. I want to start college early because I want to be ahead. In order to do that, I have to work hard. And sure, no one bows down to me in the halls or sees me as some divine power, but wouldn’t that be creepy anyway? Being queen of the court isn’t my slice of pie either, especially taking into consideration that I don’t even like school dances. Finally, while my boyfriend may be gone, we find ways to be close, and some space has made our relationship stronger. And, might I add, Friday nights are my savior. It’s my free time, and I still have friends who keep me sane.
Looking back, it was ridiculous to ever think that my senior year would be perfect. Perfection doesn’t exist, and I’m no exception. But there’s something to making things work and looking on the bright side, as cliche as that sounds. Even more cliche is the truth that sometimes it’s not the ending the matters, but the experiences, lessons and people that got you there.
I have one goal: to graduate on May 19, 2011. In the meantime, I’ve got to keep on going and make the most of what I have at hand. I’m already a quarter of the way there. If I can push through the remaining 200 days, maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it out alive.
