Being a senior means a lot of things. It means senior bonfires, scooter to school day, and assembly dress up day. I means red shirts, seniority, and worrying about absentes. Constantly. Senior year means that we’re finally the oldest ones on campus, the most “respected”, the ones everyone wishes they were. Being a senior means being the queens and kings of LCHS.
But senior year also means that in May, nothing will be the same. You’ll sit at graduation, hear two administrators call out a familiar name, and not know if you’ll ever see that face again after grad night. And that scares me.
It scares me because for some of us, the LCUSD adventure started in kindergarten at LCE, PCY, or PCR and is ending now. It’s so cliche, but our story, our next chapter, is beginning the minute Bronson takes that picture at the end of the rows of chairs.
There are 342 of us who all are completely different people, with blatantly unique stories, who all just happened to spend at least one year together here at LCHS. Not two of us are the same, but we all have that in common.
I’m endlessly grateful that I just happened to cross paths with each and every member of the LCHS Class of 2016, and I genuinely mean that, but I’m not going to lie and say senior year was easy. The truth is, this last year has been scary. And the future is scary. Not knowing if I’ll have the privilege of seeing all of my peers again is scary, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t it hasn’t been giving me a massive adrenaline rush every single moment of the last few months.
I’m excited for all of us to move on from the bubble, even if it’s not right away. I’m excited to see my classmates all make it big, because let’s be real, they’re all gonna make it big. I’m excited to see them get hired and get fired, only to get hired again. I’m excited to see them continue to live their lives, even if we’re all not together in the North Gym for assemblies, waving our hands back and forth, chanting “seniors, seniors, seniors”. I’m excited for (nearly) everyone to walk away from graduation.
High school was hard and you’re lying if you don’t think so. Figuring out where all of your classes were on the first day of freshman year was hard. Failing your first test and thinking about how that meant you were gonna fail every other test you’ll ever take was hard. Walking away from the last four years will be hard.
So yeah, high school was hard. But rocks are hard, too. And rocks don’t care about how hard they are, they make the best of it. Embrace the rock life. Rocks don’t get softer and life won’t get easier. Life’s what you make it, so let’s make it rock.