AS WE GRADUATE
This past weekend, I -- and probably many others who might just be reading this -- graduated high school. That's right, we draped ourselves in our robes, capped ourselves with a tassel hanging on the left side of our head, waiting to change its position, and walked across the stage to hear our parents embarrass us in front of our class one last time. My graduating class was about 350 people; big school, small town. But no matter how small we all were compared to the size of the body from which we now venture on from, we all felt as if we were huge.
As I sped down the highway in my beat up 1986 BMW with a smudged in front from a rear ending caused by a cat in my neighborhood, I listened to the dreaded Top 40 my high school friend, Hannah, blasted from the last working speaker in the back right side of the car. The windows were down and by the time we got to the coliseum we were having the commencement at, our hair was stiffly pointing in the opposite direction we faced. "I can't believe this is happening," my friend Hannah said as we walked the incline to the front doors of the building, our robes flowing behind us.
"Not me," I said in my usual I don't care tone which was used most of the time in the past four years. "I've been counting this down since we walked through those god-forsaken doors."
Crowds of people from all walks of life gathered around us, talking, taking pictures, the normal stuff, as we reached the large glass doors.
"It wasn't that bad, I mean, for the most part." Hannah always seemed to be too optimistic for my otherwise more open view on life.
"Were you at the same school or were you just having delusions every year?" It was usual for me to give small hints of sarcasm to everybody. It was kind of a second language to me.
"Well, bad or not, it's over now." Hannah smiled as she reached for the metal handle on the door to the sea of students, parents, and teachers.
As ditzy and preppy as she was, in the end Hannah was able to end our endless conversations quite well, which is what I admired about her. Past the doors was an endless crowd of yells, cries, and conversation of future endeavors. Immediately as we entered, a coliseum official yelled on a bullhorn to line up in our assigned lines. Hannah and I turned to each other to fix our outfits before separating.
I got into my line and began walking into the auditorium with the rest of my classmates to the tune of "Pomp and Circumstance." As the doors opened, we walked into a load roar from parents and friends. I immediately had flashbacks of the past four years. From the bad days to the best of them, I smiled at the memory. This continued until I turned my tassel after I walked across a stage.
It wasn't the memory of the past four years, but the fact that the past four years were over with.
I smiled at the fact that I am able to move on from my high school onto one of the top art schools in the country to be truly happy studying my craft. So, on I, and many of those reading this, go to new found futures and friends. In short, I can't wait to move on to new beginnings, friends, and families.
I'll see you in August, UNCSA.
