I begin typing this post after finishing my one and only final (Web Design, the one final I couldn’t skip… yeah, I’m salty about it too). It’s quiet right now, and all I can hear are the sounds of people typing the final essay question. This class was first period on blue days – a dull slog of a class, saved only by the fact that the subject matter is interesting and allows me to stretch my creative muscles.
Currently, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to be doing anything that doesn’t directly connect to the final. If my teacher notices me typing on WordPress, I will explain that I have already submitted my final so there’s no way I’m cheating, but who knows? I still have a little less than an hour to go in this finals period, and I would rather be working on this blog post than sitting here staring at an empty screen. For today, I’ll ask forgiveness rather than permission.
After this, I’ll walk outside in the spitting rain to the library parking lot, where the red Mustang convertible my grandma gifted me before moving to Vegas is parked. I didn’t do the best parking job, so I’m somewhat concerned it’ll be difficult to pull out again. It’s hard not to worry about this fact, as driving tends to stir up my anxiety something fierce. It’ll probably be fine, as it’s been a while since I royally screwed up pulling out of a parking spot, but then again, who knows?
These are the thoughts travelling through my mind during my last period of high school, ever. After today, I won’t be returning to this school in the same way again. I’ve already cleaned out my locker. Last night, I sent emails to all of my favorite teachers thanking them. In my closet, there’s a plastic bag with a cap and a gold stole. Hanging in the doorway of the guest room is my gown – Carmel blue, the same color mom wanted her car to be so she could decorate it for marching competitions.
This is it. After this, there’s nothing else. There’s graduation, I guess, and senior night, but neither of those things capture the daily feeling of being a student at Carmel High School.
I can pass by the newspaper room one more time, maybe even step inside, but it won’t carry the same low, constant level of stress. I won’t ever again sit at those frustratingly complicated apple computers and work on a spread design. Never again will I comment on how stuffy it gets when you pack a newspaper room full of stressed editors as the time ticks ever closer to their deadline.
I’ll probably walk over to the band hall before I leave one last time. It’s a little out of my way, but it seems only right for the hallway outside the band room, the one I’ve made my second home. I’ve spent hours there, sitting against the wall. We’ve accidentally spilled tea on that floor so many times. We’ve eaten meals, shared jokes, slept, colored, studied, listened to music, read… lived there. I’m not concerned that after my class leaves this hallway will be bare. I imagine there will be band kids making that hall their living room for years to come, possibly until the end of time, who knows? But I won’t be one of those band kids anymore.
Of course, the real hub of it all is the band room. It’s probably mostly empty now – the calm before the storm. In a week or so, it’ll be filled again with hundreds of marching band members during their first week of band camp. I can’t say I’m sad that I won’t be taking part, but I doubt I’ll be feeling the same way once November rolls around, and I watch someone else take the field at Grand National Finals. Some of them will know how it feels to stand on that field while your name is called first place. Some of them will remember the tears, the hugs, the listless wandering around the field while the other bands cleared off. Some of them took part in that somewhat tragic encore at one in the morning, standing in arcs, trying to remember how the music they practiced for hours and hours went.
However, the number of these people is decreasing, and will continue to decrease in the years to come. Maybe it’ll happen again, the winning, the tears, the awards, but who knows? Regardless, it won’t be the same for them as it is for me, and ones who remember it like I do will eventually step off the field and onto the stands, just as I’ll do this year.
I leave Carmel High School forever changed. Mostly for the better, but honestly, who knows? I’ve met and gotten to know so many people who have molded me into the person I am. I’ve started writing poetry, and this blog. I’ve discovered things about myself I didn’t know before. It hasn’t been all good, don’t get me wrong. There have been heartbreaks and frustrations and stress and stress and stress and stress… but the result has been overall positive. I’m more open, more adventurous, more sure of myself than I used to be.
Without this school, this blog probably wouldn’t exist. (But, say it with me, who knows?) I do know it required a lot more confidence and self-understanding than I had the summer before my freshman year. And knowing all that, it’s strange to leave it all behind. I feel like an alien in the place that has been so central to my life for four years.
There’s about ten minutes left in this final period now. I hadn’t really expected to finish this all up in one go. It’s probably kind of meandering… I’ll definitely give it a second look before I publish it on Sunday. I’m thinking the header image should be one of the probably hundreds of graduation photos that will be taken Thursday evening. I’m hoping it’ll be me and my friends smiling and laughing, everything the same as it always is except for the blue robes, but who knows?
Who knows? I didn’t know going into this post I would finish. I didn’t know going into the library parking lot that I would find a spot, and I still don’t know if I’m going to be able to pull out of it without hitting anyone. My teacher hasn’t mentioned anything about me clearly not working on the final anymore, but who knows if she’s docking my grade as we speak?
Who knows where I’ll be in another four years? I certainly didn’t know, four years ago, that I’d be sitting in Web Design typing out a blog post, prepared to drive myself back home in an admittedly really sweet car on the last ever day of high school. So who knows, really?
I hope you’re all as interested as I am to find out.