How do you measure a year?

Today I take a glimpse back to the happenings we created in the great double ‘O eight. The passing of the year marks the fading of that exciting period in our lives, where the day-by-day ascention towards high school graduation seemed so real – and then that big day, when we all congregated in our navy blue robes, clustered amongst the cliques we had grown so accustomed to, conversing in joy and glee, until this ending of Wildcat enrollment commenced. Yet once that day had drawn to a close, this wholesome feeling of unity amongst the entirety of  ’08 classmates awkwardly vanished. The presence of the feeling of togetherness had become something I had uniquely enjoyed in high school. It seemed to be something only I had taken so wholeheartedly – and looking back, I wish we all could understand this same ideal. For example, in Hanlon’s English class, although I evolved into a more quiet student in regards to Sophomore year, I relished the fun and “layed back because we are seniors and there’s nothing else to really stress over because we’re practically done” attitude, as well as the atmospheres of hilarity that were produced by the people that were bold and confident and popular. I loved it all, whether or not anyone else understood the utility I was receiving from something so simple as a great open talk.

Then, I think of the times in Kirkland’s Pre-Calc class. Times spent here were so strange and uncomfortable, because despite the pain I was in, struggling through the acts of her and her snot underclassmen, I savor the now-apparent  easy-going sort of feeling that I could have lived with so easily. Pre-Calc, essentially, ruined my senior year. While I had the ability to throw my arms back and relax, like most of the class of ’08, I stressed relentlessly over surviving with a passing grade. In Hanlon’s class when we all went outside to enjoy tea, croquet, the sunshine, and some games, yet the beating thought of finishing my math homework and having enough time to sit down and complete it plagued my mind. I will never forget Pre-Calc, nor the life I could have lived. During the latter part of the second quarter, while we put whatever effort we had left in us towards working on our Final Exam Review, I simply remember going through the worksheet, singling out whatever problems I could complete, and stopping amidst my work, gazing out the window as the sun cast itself on the stadium and track. Then I took notice of one of Kirkland’s songs playing on her shoddy CD Player, and I was instantly in the euphoria of a blissful daydream. The song was Heat of the Moment by Asia (which now finds its convenient location on my iPhone). Entranced in this wonderful song, it was as if I wasn’t even in this monotonous classroom anymore, rather, my mind was solely fixed on the coming summer. And then, the song faded away, and the reality of “surviving Pre-Calc”, as I coined it, become all the more apparent.

Advanced Photography somewhat pissed me off dearly on the last day of school. In fact, it was the combination of having to go work at Haggen the same day that really made me disturbed. In Wilsonville, there was the Art Show setting up at the Korean War Memorial on the last day (May 30th). As for some background information first, majority, if not all, of the 10ish students in Advanced Photography really needed help with their grade in the class. There were two other seniors, not counting me. They needed any help possible to pass the class. So, Ms. Morris-Green created this sort of “offer” that benefitted both Seniors and any other’s in that class… that is, except me, who was happy with the ‘A’ I was receiving from simply finishing my assignments on time. This “offer” allowed the two seniors to pass the class and the other underclassmen to not have to take a final. So, since I was the odd man out, it became pretty much an obligation for me to take this offering. What we had to do was, on that Friday, our last day of high school, help set up our photography at the War Memorial. I was so pissed, because, first of all, I completely missed out on that glorified “SENIORS…SENIORS” chant everyone gathered together to do as the final bell of high school rings. Second of all, I have no living experience of the very last day in school. Unlike all other “last days before summer break”, I did not have the chance to bring my camera and capture moments and people and this life we have come to live at Wilsonville High School. But it gets worse. I show up to the Korean War Memorial, and they aren’t ready for our help. I get coffee at nearby Starbucks, come back, spend like 15 minutes doing pretty much nothing, and it is time for me to head home so I can start my work shift at 4pm. The last day of high school is such a big event – and I pretty much missed out on it! I wish I could just see how many students were off partying or celebrating with friends, and how many had to go to work. The last day of school was supposed to be about the acknowledgment of freedom, but what I experienced was anything but that. What a shame.

Achieving Car Status

Having my own car became a big upgrade in freedom for me. Unfortunately, it came as late as mid-senior year. However, the topic of driving incited other events. For example, Nanna Crew. Fortunately, somehow, I was “admitted” to this lunch group. It was a weird experience because I had never imagined any sort of “going out to lunch” like going to a grandmother’s house I didn’t really know. But it was, overall, enjoyable – being part of a group of friends, and this lunch gettogether solidified this circle. Another instance is front-row parking. Getting to school a good 20 minutes early was important because all of us created this thing about parking in the front row of the school parking lot. This was the dark horse of parking spaces because to lasso in your vehicle here meant you were one of the first ones out at the end of the day (and these spaces were not in high demand). Having a car, and going to lunch almost every day was a big change. In early senior year and all other time periods prior to that, I had been mostly trapped at the school where we all once gathered and ate our homemade lunches in Freshmen/Sophomore year at this one, same table every day. Then, the table simply deserted over time and became overtaken by newbie freshmen later on. It was sort of a transition within a transition, meaning, as we made our way to graduation, a subdivision of change also took place in how we went about doing things like spending our time eating lunch. Those were the days, and as monotonous as they may have seemed then, they are that much more cherished today.

Counting Towards College

Today, I feel I may have displayed a bit of naivity when applying to college. I’m not saying I made the wrong choice, rather I’m saying that I wish I knew that I exhausted the rest of my options out there. Once I made my mind up about attending Oregon State University, this sort of inevitable countdown timer began to tick – and as generally excited as I was about the coming of this new experience, I felt (and sometimes still do) this resistance to change. Similar to the transition from Middle School to High School, it seemed that I became attached to all my classmates, and there was this relative feeling of not wanting to let go to something I had grown so comfortable with. In high school, everyone was at a consistent, equal level. We were all seniors ready to graduate. But once we were no longer enrolled Wildcats, everyone broke away, and no longer were we held together by the walls of Wilsonville High School. People only remained in contact through their own cliques, and also no longer would we be able to communicate fully like we once did in classrooms, where social barriers appeared unexistent. In college, the training wheels are off, and it’s up to you to peddle, balance, and steer your way towards your goal. This experience of the college transition is definitely something unique, and I suppose I should have just been prepared for it.

Bon Voyage 2008! I have written all my mind can extract. I am sure there is more to dwell on, but perhaps we’ll save that for another day.