Graduating high school is not the end. I once thought it was, but I see all the places my friends are going, their dreams, aspirations, and I realize that this is barely our beginning. It is the first chapter in our life. A restart for some, a stepping stone for others, and an unforgettable experience for all.
I must say goodbye. This fact hurts nonetheless, but it is necessary.
I will try to lighten the mood: My overall experience of high school consisted of many laughs and tears. I will never forget my teachers, friends, and knowledge I have gained within the past four years.
I will always remember the way Mr. Filkins joked with us. The way his shiny head reflected the light straight into my eyes. The way he opened up his classroom for our lunch time. The way he participated in our antics. The way he became a part of our friend group. And the way he delivered a heartfelt speech at my Top 25 dinner. Thank you for everything you’ve done, I am grateful I had you for sophomore year math. Although I hate math, I suppose you were all right.
I believe the most memorable lessons I’ve learned were from my teacher of three consecutive years, Mr. Lewis. I am sorry for never speaking much in class. I tend to be quiet in front of crowds (though I like to believe I’ve improved), but believe me when I say that I paid attention to all of your lessons. You are very determined to make your lessons as easy as possible and I have always appreciated your dedication. I initially had no clue what I wanted to do, but I am now leaving confident in my goals thanks to you. I am grateful for all the advice you’ve given me regarding college, opportunities, and overall advice. I will never forget you, and if you ever need a guest speaker for your classes, feel free to ask in the future. I would love to become a part of your lesson as your past student. Thank you for showing me new interests and ultimately influencing my future.
Ah, it is time I address the teacher that has allowed me to write in this special newspaper, Mr. Castle. Thank you for allowing me to write whatever I wanted, no matter how weird or controversial it seemed. Because of you, I have discovered new opinions and found new conversation starters. (Yes, I am referring to my story about my fear of feet.) You, sir, with the round glasses and underrated humor will always hold a special place in my memories of Selma High.
I have many other teachers that I am grateful to have had, more than I can count. Mr. Mitchell, a teacher of great understanding and encouragement; Mr. Machnik, someone who promoted my Clarion stories every chance he got; Mrs. Sultenfuss, someone who actually made me love P.E.; Ms. Placencia, someone who ultimately improved my writing skills; Mr. Garcia, a teacher who let me slack off all year (though that one time you made me print a twelve page test was not very slay of you); Mr. Bojorquez, my sixth grade teacher, it has been six years yet you remain as a core memory; Mrs. Grillioni, my first grade teacher who started this era of my life.
I thank you all and I fully believe that you will each remain in my dusty memories.
I must also bring attention to my parents. Both hardworking and the most supportive people I will ever have in my life.
As I reflect on the people I consider special to me, I cannot help but think of my future. I have been accepted into UC San Diego and UC Santa Barbara, and a series of other colleges. Though I dream of attending one of these beautiful institutions, I will remain here. Fresno City calls my name, so here I shall stay. I will pursue my associate’s degree in business administration economics and finance, and hope to transfer to UC Irvine or UC San Diego to eventually earn my master’s degree.
I find myself excited.
This is barely my beginning, and I accept that.
But I am still scared.
I am scared of growing up. I am scared of moving on. Scared of forgetting everything I’ve done here. Scared that I worked hard for nothing. Scared that the people around me will drift apart.
I forgot that I have to leave. I forgot that my friends will all go their separate ways. I forgot that I am no longer a little girl. I forgot that college is not like high school. I forgot to appreciate the little things. I forget that this will all become a faded memory.
I thought I could stay here forever, but I can’t. I thought I would see my best friend every day, but she is moving 146 miles from me. I thought I could spend my lunch in Mr. Filkins’ class surrounded by the people I consider closest to me. I thought that graduation would never come.
I thought I had time.
But I don’t.
And now it’s time to leave.
But oh I will miss my friends. I will miss my teachers. I will miss many things.
The fact that I must go hurts enough, but as I said, this will all eventually become a foggy memory.
Now, it is time to go.
