At Wilton High School, every Wednesday for four years, every student attends a 30-minute advisory period with the same adviser and roughly 10 other students. At the start of my freshman year, my adviser handed us a blank sheet of paper and told us to map out what we think high school will look like for us, with points along the way such as “somebody who influences me,” and “where I’m headed next.” Four years later during our last advisory, we got them back, and mine was almost spot on. I predicted theater would be what made high school not just tolerable but actually pretty good, I predicted I’d expand my friend circle well beyond the group of 15 girls who have been with me since seventh grade, and I predicated I’d be heading off to one of the Claremont Colleges in southern California in the fall, which I’m so happy to say is true.
When I committed to college in early April, I was ecstatic to be going to my school, and nothing anybody said would make me anything less than overjoyed. However, as the weeks went on, as any person making the biggest life decision they’ve ever made would do, I started to question myself. I knew this is what 17-year-old me wanted because of the tight feeling I’d get in my chest at the thought of going to any other school and the rush of excitement at the thought of going to the school I’ll be attending, but what if this is entirely wrong for 21-year-old me? What if I change so much that this isn’t what I want at all anymore?