High school graduation made me realize how harsh life could be and how drastically my life was going to change afterwards. Before June, I had thought about my upcoming graduation and my future, but it didn't hit me upside the head until then. Change was a train arriving at the graduation station, and I was the kid on the train tracks, stooping to tie my shoe.
It is now 9A.M. I'm late. I'm late. I'm late! I growl at the air, because there is nothing else to be mad at. A squat Caucasian woman peeks her head out from behind the door, which I am walking towards, and notices me.
"Hurry up!" she demands.
My class is proceeding to their seats.
"Put on your robes!"
I tear the plastic off the bergundy cap and gown. Fearing I am wasting precious time, I quickly put my arms through the sleeves, and the zipper down the entire front doesn't want to zip! Next, the pushy and annoyed woman is assisting me with the troublesome robe. I am handed a card with my name printed across the middle and a number written in the left corner.
"Follow me." She leads me past the lengthy line of students.
Along the way, *Jana Smith, a vulgar and well-fed girl, yells after me, "Don't fuck up my graduation, Stephanie!"
Standing in the aisle between the boys and girls section of seating, I converse with my friends, and ask their numbers. Finally, I have found where I am supposed to be. I squeeze into the row and discover a woman not dressed for the occasion yet standing in front of my promised seat.
"I'm sorry. You can't sit here," the woman firmly states as if the two sentences were one. She happens to be a monitor who refuses to budge for a desperate graduating senior.
Instead of sitting comfortably in the third row with my friends, I am slouching in the last row, slowly figuring where to advertise my two sashes and cord. Meanwhile, the principal of my high school offers encouragement and such in his boring introduction. Then, the valedictorian gives an excellent speech as expected. Next, someone is reading a haiku about senior year and graduation. I look up. A boy with a pleasantly deep voice and dressed in white robes is tripled, featured on two large screens behind the living original. Recognizing the red hair beneath the white cap, I blush as I realize this is the guy I have been drooling over all senior year. He finishes, and there is lots of cheering and clapping, especially from the girls sitting to my left and right. The first two rows of Honors students rise and go single file towards the stage. The counselors start to read names. The maniacs in my row scream and clap whenever someone they know receives her or his diploma. These girls seem to know everyone, lucky for me and my ringing ears. One of my friends walks on stage, and the girl to the right of me asks "Who's that?" I clap louder and restrain myself fom assaulting the insolent snot.
After fidgeting in my seat and crumpling the card for an hour, the last row stands and moves towards the stage. It's my turn! I hand a counselor the index card which I have successfully made into soft paper fit for blowing a stuffy nose. I am disappointed in his lack of surprise at my craftsmanship. He reads my name into the microphone. Nervous and in a hurry, I stroll forward, shake an unfamiliar woman's hand, accept the prize paper, and smile uncomfortably for the camera man kneeling below. I shake the principal's hand and escape down the stage's steps.
The hour I had spent sitting in the back row crumpling up the index card was also the time I had spent thinking about my future. Come September, I wouldn't be attending my high school. I wouldn't be poking fun at *Mr. Hay and laughing with my sophomore friends in Photography. *Shay and I wouldn't be having squirt gun fights in the hallways. I wouldn't be playing "Spot the Redhead" at lunch with my best friend. She and I wouldn't be pounding on *Mr. Fay's door to let us in during lunch or having a highlighter war with *Ray and his friend. On the upside, I won't dread bumping into pompous ex-boyfriends. I won't have to march past *Mrs. Nay, the teacher who denied my entrance into her Calculus AP class and wouldn't shake my hand at the senior assembly, on my way to class. Never again will I have to sit another day in *Mr. Tray's classroom which reeked of spoiled cabbage.
Certain things will stay the same. There will be more fun times to enjoy with friends, both new and old. There will more guys to drool over and instructors to poke fun at. In four years, I will have more friends to cheer on when they walk on stage as a counselor calls their names and then shakes their hands. I will be earning another prize paper myself, but hopefully, I will get rid of the uncomfortable smile.
Recieving my diploma, I didn't feel like I had earned it. I felt that it was expected (My mom is a teacher, and my dad is a surgeon.), and I didn't do all that I could have. I did what I had to do to graduate. Luckily, most of the homework assignments were easy (so were the tests). Proficiency testing was a cinch. I didn't have to worry about passing those. I got them out of the way my junior year. I didn't push to get into Calculus AP. Even though I really wanted to be there, I thought I would take it easy my senior year, and I did! I didn't pursue the redhead. I didn't buckle down and study. I didn't care that I wasn't receiving an honors diploma just because of the lack of one measly English Honors credit. I turned in incomplete work or just didn't turn it in. I did enough to get at least a "D" grade. I was busy telling sarcastic jokes and playing silly games. And you know what? I don't regret anything I did or didn't do. High school was a time for fun, immaturity, and irresponsibility. It was a time for the young. High school was the best four years of my life.
I had been denied a seat on my graduation day. Surely, there will be more that I will be denied and more obnoxious people hollering discouraging or just plain rude comments. Graduating from my high school represented my entering into adulthood. Other girls had celebrated their quinceaneras or perhaps their bat mitzvahs. I had my lovely high school graduation.
