A Senior Perspective: The Beginning of the End

Though I turned 17 a week before I started my senior year, but I didn’t really feel older until I walked through the doors of .

I met my friends in our designated spot outside the choir room, 15 minutes before first period. We mulled over rumors about the teachers we were about to meet—who gave less homework, who was a stickler for grammar ... I was definitely excited. This was my last year of high school. Soon, I’ll have to pick a college and try to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.

The idea that in a year, I will be living on a university campus making my own way in the world is thrilling, but there is an underlying sense of foreboding. The friends I was sitting around—partners in crime I'd met four years ago—will be starting their own lives. We will be spreading out across the country; even those who'll stay close will have little time for old high school friendships. My greatest fear is looking back four years from now and realizing that I never kept in contact with any of them.

My future career is also a point of anxiety for me. I am still wavering between possible colleges and majors. (I envy my classmates who spout out their college choice, major, and future career on command). I don't want to be one of those students constantly flip-flopping between majors, racking up more student debt.

With five minutes left to make it to class, my friends and I split up and went our separate ways. After seven periods of new classes and new teachers, I realized that despite my fears, I was ready for new beginnings. I've loved the past three years of high school. The way things are going, I think I'll love the fourth.

But then, it will be time for a change. Time to strike out in an adults’ world, meet new people and discover my niche. "Easy" will probably never describe my ascent to college. But "interesting" might.

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