A change in outlook

I guess you could say my outlook has changed. As I sat in the familiar, spacious — yet somehow cramped — auditorium for the senior cap and gown meeting, flashbacks slashed through my mind. On three separate occasions, for three separate siblings, I’ve sat attentively in the Family Arena and watched a group of students, so foreign to me yet so connected to each other, move on. Caps flew, tears rolled, cameras flashed, and just like that, they were graduated. So as the Josten’s guy informed us on “how to look good” on that special day, I sat recalling three of them in the past, knowing what awaits in our future.

At the end of this school year, we will be that group of kids. We’ll all sit in the center of the arena together, nervous, connected in the fact that we’ll soon separate. Many of us will remain together, but not aided by the bonding force of attending Howell Central. So when that realization came to me as we all convened in the dark auditorium, I could feel my outlook on senior year start to shift. Events, assemblies, get togethers, they aren’t just everyday affairs… they’ll soon be memories.

Take the pep rally for FOX 2 this past Friday morning, for example. While I dreaded the notion of showing up to school at 6 AM on my day off, it payed off to the highest degree. Six hundred Spartans, tired, yet rowdy and united, all cheering as we were broadcast live on television— that will be a memory. Later that night was the Homecoming game, another incredible experience. Being on the field with my team, getting in the game, finally feeling victory— that will most definitely be a memory. And Saturday: suiting for the Homecoming dance for the last time, painfully posing for picture after picture, dancing like an idiot with my closest friends and girlfriend of 15 months— that will be a memory. The whole weekend will.

Years from now, we’ll look back. The feeling of dread as I set my alarm to 5:30 will be long gone, but I suspect the feeling of unity as we all stood in the gym will remain. The high-pitched ringing in my ears, the dull numbness after helmets collide will be distant, but the sweet taste of victory as a team will last vividly in my mind. The aching boredom of taking picture after picture will have faded, leaving only the feeling of being with my closests friends, happy.

So, starting today, I’m going to live my last year here at FHC to the fullest, and I suggest that any senior reading this do the same. Go to Prom, stay for the pep assemblies, get tighter with your with your tightest friends and teammates. Depressing as it may sound, we have three quarters of high school to last us the rest of our lives.

Make memories, live it up. Change your outlook now, or you’ll have nothing to look back on.

 

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