Warrior Words: The beginning of the end
Five hundred forty-three days — 3,529 hours and 30 minutes. That’s how long we seniors have been in high school so far. And now we’ve arrived at the final 181 days of our high school careers in what feels like the blink of an eye.
We’ve survived the awkwardness and apprehension of freshman year, the “sophomoholism,” as the renowned Matt Kobin would call it, the tension of SATs/ACTs (pick your poison), heavy workloads and busy schedules that characterize junior year, and now here we are.
So, what does being a senior mean, anyway? Well, starting senior year means we’re experiencing the firsts of the lasts, the beginning of the end, or whatever other cliché tickles your fancy.
First and foremost, being a senior means that the scramble to complete AP summer work before class has seen its dying days. If you ask me, this is a definite cause for celebration. This is the last time we girls will have to suffer through the first-day-of-school Starbucks rush, or decide which sundress-Rainbows combination will perfectly complement our summer tans and highlights.
Of course, there are the perks of senior parking — never again will we muddy up our Sperrys from the most treacherous foot slog that exists: from the tennis courts to the front door of the building. We’ll also never need to cringe and hold our breath as we pull into or out of the dangerously tiny spaces of the junior lot nor pray to the Jeep gods that no one accidentally scrapes our precious Wranglers.
I can’t neglect to mention locker choices surpassing college decisions as the most trying judgment call of our entire senior year. Congrats to all for enduring the grueling pressure of picking the best location!
Though it may not feel like it, so much time has passed since we were the newbies in Wilton High School. Nowadays, we all rush to our parents’ email inboxes instead of out to the curb to see our schedules.
Instead of frustration of a slow mail truck or the tragedy of being the last stop on the route, it’s a matter of whether or not you can figure out the mystery of the emailed access codes. And, of course, it is practically mandatory to update Facebooks and Twitters, so that every member of Wilton High School knows where any given student will be at any given time (present company guilty as charged).
Accompanying the bewilderment behind PowerSchool passwords is the ever-present question: “How is it possible that we all seem to look exactly the same, but the freshmen all look so tiny?” Well, not to worry, seniors. We’ll be freshmen again soon enough! But let’s not digress, that’s a subject for a different column.
So, fellow seniors, welcome back to the hallowed halls of Wilton High School for our grand finale. I hope you’ve been honing your tree-leaning, arm-crossing skills and polishing your million-dollar Warrior smiles. It’ll make for some beautiful senior pictures!
Nicole Berg is a senior at Wilton High School. She shares this column with five classmates.