After writing many stories, these will be my last words for The Clarion. It has been many weeks dedicated to the development of stories, weeks in which I have developed as a writer and as a person. Through The Clarion I was able to record some of my high school experiences on paper, and most significantly, find a way to explore and express my ideas. In retrospect, I see how much has happened in my life since first entering high school. I fondly look back on some of my high school experiences, remembering and carrying with me the embarrassing stories lived on this campus, and the ideas that several of my teachers have nurtured with their wise words and anecdotes. I have gained the final piece of experience at Selma High before leaving for college.
Although I have shared many stories with The Clarion, both extrinsic and personal, I have one final story to share, one that I have only recently stumbled upon in my own life. I have been a part of honors and AP classes from the beginning of my high school years. At first I thought that being in those classes gave me a sense of comfort. It made me think that I was going down a good path since I was taking some of the best classes the school offered. It wasn’t until this year, with the experience of three previous years, that I realized that sometimes being in an honors class doesn’t exactly indicate what I thought it did. I was in honors math for three years before understanding that I wasn’t understanding anything at all. Only now do I acknowledge the importance of choosing an advanced class because it piques your curiosity and not because of a suppositional expectation. There is no point in putting yourself through the pressure of scraping by that “advanced class” in order to prove a nonexistent claim.
At the beginning of the year I set a goal for myself: to make this year a good one. In previous years, although I was always excited to start school, I couldn’t help but look toward the future and hope that the finish line was near. This year, I can gladly say that my perspective changed. Everyday, however tired I could have been, I woke up and decided to have a good day at school. In the most trivial of things, from choosing a cute outfit the night before, staring out the open door in class and allowing myself to daydream, or taking a moment to admire the trees around campus (personally, my favorite tree is the one closest to room 907 in the grass area), I found something to look forward to. It was those micro-moments that made me perceive this year in a different light. In Anatomy, I enjoyed the trust Mr. Norman had in his students to complete the assignments. It made me look forward to first period as I always worked on assignments at my pace while talking comfortably with my sister about one thing or another. In AP Literature, I looked forward to analyzing books and Mr. Machnik’s positive attitude. Psychology was always filled with interesting topics, whether prompted by a student during “Ask Greg” days or by Mr. Garcia himself. There was always something comical to laugh about during third period. In AP Government I looked forward to Mr. Johnson’s passion for teaching the subject at hand. The class was always engaging, especially on prep-game days. In fifth period, I looked forward to dancing with friends and learning a new dance with the guidance of Mr. Bustos and Mr. Garcia. Clarion however, was different. As I tried to think about something I enjoyed about this class, I realized I was having a hard time. The truth of the matter is: what was there not to look forward to? It was such a peculiar melange of people, and there was always something offhand to be heard from any of the groups or even Mr. Castle. I will miss reading the New York Times, particularly Sunday Styles: Modern Love every week. It is easy to get caught up in the routine of going to class everyday, but in those short and perhaps rare moments when you pause to take in your surroundings, it is when you enjoy school the most.
Whenever I am in the passenger seat in a car I always find myself reading the small letters on the side-view mirror. Since I was a child I would read the words and stare at the cars that apparently were closer than visible in the mirror, but I never truly knew how close they actually were. High school is like that cautionary phrase. During high school many people inevitably tell you that these years will “fly by” and you don’t believe it until you arrive at your final destination, graduation.
Although I started high school thinking that it would have some semblance of normality, Covid-19 had other plans. I missed out on the opportunity to physically experience my freshman year, on participating in more activities, and I missed out on getting to know the people who have surrounded me since seventh grade. However, despite the many or few exchanges of words I have had with my classmates, I am happy to be graduating with the class of 2024. I am grateful for all of my teachers, from kindergarten to senior year, for contributing to my knowledge of education and life. I am now only a few weeks from turning eighteen, but only now am I beginning to grasp the true meaning of “objects in mirror are closer than they appear,” and I intend to soak in every minute as genuinely as I can.
