Chapter Seventy-Seven: My Heart and the Class of 2015
Read my post for the Class of 2014 here.
Can you believe it's almost been a week since the Class of 2015 graduated? Heck, it's hard for me to believe I graduated over a year ago. While I most definitely had a connection to my class, the Senior Class of 2015 also has a very special place in my heart.
The obvious reason for this is that my boyfriend, Luke, is a recent graduate; however, my love for the Class of 2015 started a long time ago.
It seems to be a commonality for students to either better connect with the grade levels below them, with them, or ahead of them. This becomes extremely evident in junior high, because this is when the grade levels begin to mix in various classes. Don't get me wrong, I connected with the students within my class just fine. My very best friends are the same age as I am. For some reason though, I really felt a strong need to be there for the grade below me. Maybe it was because a few of my very special childhood friends were a grade below me. Maybe it's because I like feeling superior. Whatever the reason, I've always wanted to support and help the Class of 2015 in all of their endeavors.
When I was in seventh grade and the new sixth graders entered the doors of my junior high for the first time, I was thrilled. I so desperately wanted to make these kids feel welcome, because I personally knew how scary entering a new place can be. Because I've been there.
When I was in eighth grade, the advanced choir was full of eighth graders (like me) and talented seventh graders. We grew together as we worked all year to achieve the highest scores. I was also put in a karate class full of seventh graders (because I joined later than most) and learned valuable lessons with these bright, intelligent kids. No words can describe the love I felt for these kids. And no words can describe how hard it was to leave them when I left for high school.
Although it seemed long at the time, the new freshman class entered the doors of high school a year later. This was different from middle school for a number of reasons; one being that many of my middle school friends branched off into different high schools. This was a little difficult for my 15 year old self to understand...which I'm sure was even harder for the freshmen at the time.
With time we grew. We grew older. We grew apart. I had glances of these kids in the hallways, in math classrooms, in choir...if I was really curious I would check social media (as reliable as this is). To them, I'm sure I came off as a weird, creepy, nosy girl who would "like" seemingly boring posts or butt in on kind of personal twitter conversations. To them I might have seemed random and out-of-place...but to me? These kids were my future. My responsibility. My little ducklings.
Throughout high school, I made countless friendships with the Class of 2015. Whether you were an acquaintance in my math class, a doubles partner in tennis, a fellow singer in varsity choir, or just a friend of a friend...you were (and still are!) special to me. Which meant, whether you knew it or not, I watched over you. I stood up for you. I rooted for you.
Soon, it was time for me to leave you again. Except this time, I didn't have high school to look forward to. No, this time I was leaving for good. My little ducklings were turning into beautiful swans and I knew I wouldn't be able to be there to watch you fly. I wanted to help you. I wanted to take you by the hand and say "It will be okay," because I knew what it was like. Because I've been there.
I have a confession. And maybe you figured this out already, because I like to think of myself as a book that never quite closes all the way.
My inspiration for this blog comes from what lies within boring white walls: you.
I wanted to help you in the best way I could being over 300 miles away. I wanted to somehow show you that every moment is precious, without being there to point it out. My only hope is that maybe just one of my seventy-six posts has helped you in some way, shape, or form.
I only attended one graduation out of the four taking place in the district due to a tight schedule, but seeing the Facebook statuses and Tweets and Instagram photos really made me thrilled and a little sad. Bittersweet. Because mylittle ducklings swans are finally spreading their wings and leaving the pond to discover, create, see, and experience life in a whole new way.
I know you're excited to escape the pond. It's so much better beyond the pond...but it's also scarier. Bigger. On your flight, you may see something shiny that catches your eye. You may grow tired and want to rest in a willow tree. I encourage you to stay curious, but always keep your eyes toward the horizon.
And my greatest advice I can give you, graduates, is this: your pond will always welcome you home. I, along with many others, are keeping our eyes on you as you take flight. If you ever feel alone, just take a quick glance back and we will be there, cheering you on. You might not always be able to hear us cheering and encouraging you, but I promise you we are.
I love you all very much. And I can't wait to see what you do.
I'm dating a graduate!
Can you believe it's almost been a week since the Class of 2015 graduated? Heck, it's hard for me to believe I graduated over a year ago. While I most definitely had a connection to my class, the Senior Class of 2015 also has a very special place in my heart.
The obvious reason for this is that my boyfriend, Luke, is a recent graduate; however, my love for the Class of 2015 started a long time ago.
It seems to be a commonality for students to either better connect with the grade levels below them, with them, or ahead of them. This becomes extremely evident in junior high, because this is when the grade levels begin to mix in various classes. Don't get me wrong, I connected with the students within my class just fine. My very best friends are the same age as I am. For some reason though, I really felt a strong need to be there for the grade below me. Maybe it was because a few of my very special childhood friends were a grade below me. Maybe it's because I like feeling superior. Whatever the reason, I've always wanted to support and help the Class of 2015 in all of their endeavors.
When I was in seventh grade and the new sixth graders entered the doors of my junior high for the first time, I was thrilled. I so desperately wanted to make these kids feel welcome, because I personally knew how scary entering a new place can be. Because I've been there.
When I was in eighth grade, the advanced choir was full of eighth graders (like me) and talented seventh graders. We grew together as we worked all year to achieve the highest scores. I was also put in a karate class full of seventh graders (because I joined later than most) and learned valuable lessons with these bright, intelligent kids. No words can describe the love I felt for these kids. And no words can describe how hard it was to leave them when I left for high school.
Although it seemed long at the time, the new freshman class entered the doors of high school a year later. This was different from middle school for a number of reasons; one being that many of my middle school friends branched off into different high schools. This was a little difficult for my 15 year old self to understand...which I'm sure was even harder for the freshmen at the time.
With time we grew. We grew older. We grew apart. I had glances of these kids in the hallways, in math classrooms, in choir...if I was really curious I would check social media (as reliable as this is). To them, I'm sure I came off as a weird, creepy, nosy girl who would "like" seemingly boring posts or butt in on kind of personal twitter conversations. To them I might have seemed random and out-of-place...but to me? These kids were my future. My responsibility. My little ducklings.
Throughout high school, I made countless friendships with the Class of 2015. Whether you were an acquaintance in my math class, a doubles partner in tennis, a fellow singer in varsity choir, or just a friend of a friend...you were (and still are!) special to me. Which meant, whether you knew it or not, I watched over you. I stood up for you. I rooted for you.
Soon, it was time for me to leave you again. Except this time, I didn't have high school to look forward to. No, this time I was leaving for good. My little ducklings were turning into beautiful swans and I knew I wouldn't be able to be there to watch you fly. I wanted to help you. I wanted to take you by the hand and say "It will be okay," because I knew what it was like. Because I've been there.
I have a confession. And maybe you figured this out already, because I like to think of myself as a book that never quite closes all the way.
My inspiration for this blog comes from what lies within boring white walls: you.
I wanted to help you in the best way I could being over 300 miles away. I wanted to somehow show you that every moment is precious, without being there to point it out. My only hope is that maybe just one of my seventy-six posts has helped you in some way, shape, or form.
I only attended one graduation out of the four taking place in the district due to a tight schedule, but seeing the Facebook statuses and Tweets and Instagram photos really made me thrilled and a little sad. Bittersweet. Because my
I know you're excited to escape the pond. It's so much better beyond the pond...but it's also scarier. Bigger. On your flight, you may see something shiny that catches your eye. You may grow tired and want to rest in a willow tree. I encourage you to stay curious, but always keep your eyes toward the horizon.
And my greatest advice I can give you, graduates, is this: your pond will always welcome you home. I, along with many others, are keeping our eyes on you as you take flight. If you ever feel alone, just take a quick glance back and we will be there, cheering you on. You might not always be able to hear us cheering and encouraging you, but I promise you we are.
I love you all very much. And I can't wait to see what you do.
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