Grubby. That is the word that describes the absolute mess and clutter that my backpack has towards the end of the school year. But the assignments are coming slower, and the AP exams and finals are coming faster for me and many others. The pressure and stress are building, but it’ll all be over. Like being in the eye of a storm, there’s a brief moment amidst the chaos of senior year where I notice this feeling of directionless but reflective sentiment that I have. It’s the final stretch.
Odd and Peculiar. These are words that describe my feelings about graduating. Why do I feel the way that I do? I haven’t felt this way when I transitioned from preschool to elementary school, elementary school to middle school, and middle school to finally high school. But yet, I oddly do.
Obligated. I feel this way as I owe my thanks to the numerous adults that I have met throughout my four years here that shaped the person that I am today. I owe my curiosity of the world to Mr. Jones. I’ll miss our conversations outside of class about music and the advice you have given me.
My work ethic: I give thanks to my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Pecina. Although I haven’t seen him in years nor do I know where he’s at now, I still remember the strict yet comforting classroom he had. Isn’t that right, sir?
My pride in my ethnicity, I give thanks to Mr. Pena. Although I haven’t talked to him much, I enjoy the funny nickname he called me and his humor during Open House in junior year. This year he’ll be leaving Selma High to go teach P.E. somewhere else instead of Spanish. I wish him luck in that.
To my other teachers, I greatly appreciate the learning and teaching you have given me. Although I won’t remember a majority of it a decade from now , you were still essential to my high school experience.
Depressed. Other than teachers, I wouldn’t have thought I would have close enough bonds with regular teenagers that it would hurt me when I graduate. People I blame are Dilpreet, Kaylie, and Miah, absolutely wonderful people I have had the pleasure of getting to know through Clarion this year. Albeit questionable at times, I enjoy hearing their stories, jokes, and laughs after a full day of AP classes. I’ll miss them. To Kausar, our international student, I’ll be sad when we part ways as you leave the United States. I’m sure that the rest of Clarion will be too.
Bittersweet. As I walk across the stage on June 4, I’ll be reminded of my time being up at Selma High. I’m excited to go to college at UC Davis in September, and yet I feel empty leaving. As I leave, a part of me will still remain here for the next four years as my sister will take my place. I wish her luck as I accidentally left her with high expectations as I’m ranked number one for the Class of 2026. I’m not sorry, sis.
Youthful. Although I still won’t be 18 by the time I graduate, I’m going to graduate with regrets about high school. I regret not talking to more people sooner. I regret not doing sports sooner. I regret not taking certain classes such as AVID and especially joining JROTC. Although I do have these regrets, I’ll try to move past these regrets of mine and work around them. As it was human adaptability that allowed humans to dominate the physical world, it will be what guides me too.
Emotional. As the last remaining weeks run out, I am left with my feelings of graduating. I do not consider myself an emotional type, but graduation has challenged that. As the senior classrooms quiet down and the last senior leaves campus, I wonder what the class of 2026 will be remembered for. Our seating charts being replaced with the next year’s seniors, our names in Aeries being read by our teachers one more time, and our classroom noises being heard one last time.
