How long is high school really? The state says four years, but I think otherwise. No, I don’t mean it’s not actually four years, I just mean it doesn’t feel like four years at all. When I started high school in 2022, my perception was that it would feel like forever, and at times it did. Now, I have taken the stage for the final act in this intriguing show of required education. I know all the underclassmen reading this will roll their eyes and say, “You’re only saying that because it’s ending,” and there is a certain truth to that, but I’m not incorrect either; the answer lies somewhere in between the margins of the pages to everyone’s own individual story. What I hope you gain from this article is some understanding, through my experience, that it will all be over before you know it, so you don’t waste a second of your high school years.
The beautiful thing about high school is that everyone is required to attend. You don’t get to choose who sits next to you on the freshman first day, or who you will walk the stage with. For some, the diversity is unwanted, while others may find it freeing to have such contrast. I remember that day vividly, my freshman first day. The breaking in of middle schoolers to high school students, with a heightened objective of eliminating tomfoolery, to mold us into something, or someone. Standing in the cafeteria, making a vain effort to hide myself by scrolling through my phone, I remember it so well, a different time. Those were the pre-remodel days, back when our school still had a courtyard. I miss the simplicity. I can’t say no one told us how the time we possess at this institution is a gift, to be cherished before Father Time claims his own; they did tell us, in earnest, “I know right now it feels like forever, but trust me, the time will go by so fast once you get started.” Mr. Stark’s voice echoed in the mostly empty gym where we sat in the corner, receiving marching orders, as I saw it. It’s funny how that works. A moment I met with snickering, I now gaze back over as if it were a beautiful mountain in the distance, that I so yearn to touch, but can’t.
Freshman year felt like the longest one of my life, mentally and physically. I didn’t feel as if I would make it through school in one piece; if I were to complete it, I would look like a rather large puzzle. Sure enough, however, it met its end, and with that, I noticed the first time in my high school career that time seemed to skip a beat in its everlasting song. It wouldn’t be the last. The second time this happened was the day I stepped onto the bus, the first day of sophomore year. Occasionally, throughout the day, my mind would revert to the thought I can’t believe I’m a sophomore. I still haven’t fully caught up from the moment Devin looked at me and said, “First day of sophomore year down.” Surely it didn’t happen that quickly. Oh, but it did.
Senior year has been like finishing a good story, for the most part. That is not to say it was all inherently good. I don’t think sunshine and rainbows make for a great story, anyway. If that’s the case, what does make a good story? A culmination of things, character development, adversity, loss, resolve, I think you get the picture. Depth, that’s what makes a good story, and high school is full of it. The ebbs and flows of life, experienced within a day.
My story has been full of moments I wanted to give up; in fact, I’d say the majority of my time here, till now, has felt like that. There isn’t a single person at this school who hasn’t wanted to give up sooner or later; the difference between those who finish and those who don’t is continuation, picking up where they left off. Not every day will be your best, and that’s okay. If life is a book, my advice is to write one sentence a day. No matter where you are in your personal story, give yourself something to build off of tomorrow and the next day. It won’t last forever, I promise. The scared boy who walked through those doors in 2022 is now a man, ready to take on the challenges this next chapter of life presents.
