When I was in high school, everyone told me not to grow up too fast. They told me to enjoy it while I could, that it was going to end faster than I thought it would. I told these people they were nuts, and if I could just kindly graduate and get the fuck in the real world, I would be happy.
Freshman year, I procrastinated. I failed just about every class I had, even the easy ones. Graduation seemed like an eternity away, and it was just something that didn't matter to me. Graduation wasn't even in the realm of possibility for me at this point.
Sophomore year, I got my shit together a little bit. I tried harder in some classes, but still managed to fail quite a few. I only tried in the classes I liked and for the teachers I got along with. Everything else, serious procrastination. I wouldn't even try. Especially with geometry. I wouldn't pay attention in class. I would talk to Kezzi and Gilbert all period, I'd write notes to my other friends, I'd draw, text, anything to avoid actually paying attention to what Mr. Willess was saying. And then I'd get home and get pissed off at Mr. Willess when I couldn't understand the homework. Needless to say, I failed geometry. WITH THE LOWEST PERCENTAGE THAT MR. WILLESS HAD EVER GIVEN OUT IN HIS 30+ YEARS OF TEACHING. I don't really know why, but I was proud of that.
Junior year, I moved. I moved to a brand new high school, in a brand new town, in a brand new state, half way across the country. Fergus was where I realized I needed to really get my shit together. Fergus High was SOOOOO much less stressful than Fallbrook High. Montana's academic standards are a lot less intense than the California ones, and that alleviated a lot of my stress. I had absolutely awesome teachers, and I got along with all of them. I became friends with most of my teachers. There wasn't just the 'student-teacher' relationship. The teachers in Fergus actually made an effort to know you on a personal level. You weren't someone they just threw lectures and homework at. Mrs. Lewis was my favorite. I could talk to her like we've been friends forever. I loved my teachers. Even the attendance secretary, Andra, was my friend. I would go to the office just to say hi to her. Halfway through the year, Andra left and some other lady took her place. I don't remember the other lady's name, and even though she was my best friends cousin or something, I didn't like her. She wasn't Andra, so I despised her. Not really fair, but oh well. Even the vice principal, Mr. Majerus wasn't too bad. Except when he was dress coding me. I liked the atmosphere and the teachers better, so I tried harder. I passed all but one class.
Senior year, I rocked. I moved back to California, and I went to Ivy. Initially, I was scared to go to Ivy. That school has a reputation around town for being particularly dangerous. Ivy is known as the school for the drug addicts, the 2nd chance drop outs, the gang members, the failures, and the teen moms. I was certain I was going to piss off the wrong person and get my ass kicked within the first week. Good news, I didn't. :) I ended up actually getting a long with everyone. The teacher everyone hated, Mrs. Cawley, was my favorite. I ended up passing every class, and graduating on time with a $200 scholarship, after spending the whole year on honor roll or Principals honor roll.
And now, I'm graduated. A lot of people seem to think that receiving that diploma changed me. Well, sorry, but it really didn't.
Yes, I graduated high school and I have a diploma to prove it. I'm stoked that I actually managed to pull it off. However, it's just a piece of paper to me. Getting my diploma didn't make me an adult any more than getting my license turned me into a taxi driver. It's an accomplishment, a great one at that. I'm proud of me. But at the end of the day, it's still just a piece of paper.
Everyone demands so much responsibility and maturity from me. My mom doesn't think I should ever go out with my friends and have fun. It's a constant "Well, why didn't you do this this and this? Why isn't this this and this cleaned?" Etc, etc, etc. . .
I'm still a kid. I still like going out and doing stupid things with my friends. I listen to my music too loud. I sleep til two pm. I get stoked over swingsets and playgrounds. I cry when characters in my books die. I motherfucking love coloring books.
Don't get me wrong, I know how to be mature when I need to be. But it won't take over my whole life. I would really like to enjoy my life. I want to have fun, so I'm going to.
Experiences are what mature me, not pieces of paper. I'm sorry if that's a difficult concept for you, but walking across a stage and getting a piece of paper handed to me DIDN'T CHANGE ME. All it really changed was that I don't have to get up at 6am to get ready for school anymore. Please realize this.
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