Friday

a recollection of my feelings during graduation

I caught senioritis my freshman year of high school. I still remember my first day, I hated it. I hated the general population of students, I hated having to be locked in a room with them, and most of all I hated that I had no other options but to stay in this sort of environment. That is why it seemed so surreal to me to be standing with all my friends that autumn day, all of us wearing long flimsy graduation gowns. I was done. I was done with high school. No more waking up before the sun did due to our ridiculous class schedule, no more meaningless advisory period, no more lukewarm lunchtime pizza. There is no combination of words that could express how happy I was to have finally reached the end of my high school career. The key word here, being happiness. Graduation was the single happiest moment of my life.

    My friends and I stood in the stereotypical hoodlum semicircle at the farthest end of the gym, all of us incredulous at what was to go down in the coming hours. We were about to graduate. Our balding assistant principal, the one we all referred to as the one with the sweet comb over, announced over the megaphone that it was time to line up in our groups. The entire senior class, somewhat clumsily, lined up and started the short trip to the football field where the graduating ceremony was being held.

     It was late in the afternoon as we all walked out of the gym through its large double doors. Despite it being late the sun was still shinning bright and I had to shield my face from its stinging rays as I stepped out into the sunlight. My good friend Isaac, perhaps sensing my nervousness, gave me a pat on the back and shot me a reassuring smile. I returned the gesture and sank back into my thoughts. I was not only nervous, I was terrified.

    Strip a man of his dreams and what do you have left? This is what I was so terrified about. My entire high school career I had wanted nothing more than to be freed from the everyday hell hole that was Citrus Hill high school and here I was about to finally be freed from the shackles bounding me to this place. What does a slave do after he has been freed? Where does he go? More importantly what does he dream of now that his one and only dream has been fulfilled? I had wanted nothing more and that was my problem.

     We continued our walk to the field with the sun setting at our backs. I took a last look around in disbelief. I couldn’t believe this was the last time I would walk through these hallways. I remember being lost my first day and holding up my little map trying to navigate the hallways to my first class. I was almost going to miss the gum covered floors, the cookie monster blue doors, and that one mangled trash can by Mrs. Williams room, it was my favorite. As much as I hated my experience at this place I could not help but hold some sort of attachment. It may have been a hell hole but it was my hell hole. In the end I guess one could chalk it up to me fearing change. I was about to close a chapter of my life and write a completely new one, all starting with the steps I took towards that football field.

      Sunset was creeping up on us as we finally reached the field, what horrible memories that field held. I can recall one hundred and ten degree summer days spent forced to run laps and burned palms from pushups on the scalding asphalt flashing through my mind as a snake of seniors made their way up the ramps leading to the field. The closer we got the louder the crowds cheered. What was once a dull roar was now a tsunami of voices screaming down at us. Pomp and circumstance played over the loud speakers as golden rays of light rained down on us, it sounded every bit as sweet as I imagined it would.

     I took my seat between Isaac and an old biology teacher I had in 10^th grade, I avoided eye contact in order to skip the awkward hello that would ensue. I looked to my surrounding classmates, all looking out into the crowds searching for their loving family members who were here for their big day, a part of me wishing I had someone to look for too.  I then directed my attention to the stage where speeches were being given and board members were sitting in such a manner that implied they had some sort of right to be there.

     The first row of students rose from their seats and I knew diplomas were now being handed out. I took special care to pay attention to everyone being called up so I could part ways with them in the confines of my own head. Cynthia Rodriguez was called up, the fat girl who had a thing for me all throughout high school. I stopped myself while thinking this and smirked , “You are such an a*****e” I thought to myself still smirking. This is how it went for about an hour, bullies, crushes, ex girlfriends and the like all having their own little parting with me inside my head until my row was called up.

     I rose and followed the person in front of me up to the stage, the sun now low enough to cast long thin shadows onto the fake neon green grass. My heart rate rose, my hands shook, and my breathing became rapid as I neared the front of the line. I was about to complete a four year long journey. I had made it to this very stage running on fumes alone, the road here had been harder on me than most. I have had to crawl my way here on my fingernails, and all that was left of this long and pain filled journey was ten steps and a hand shake.

     My name was called, half holding my breath I made my way up the ramp. At the end of the ramp was an old man of which I have never seen until today. I couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he was going to be the one who sealed the deal. I extended my hand and he shook it, it was a firm shake. I could tell he had done this once or twice. A bright flash, a few pats on the back and one mediocre round of applause later I was making my way off the stage. On the way back to my seat I locked eyes with hundreds of my classmates, for the first time I didn’t mind being near them. I sat back down and finally released the breath I had been holding, it would pale in comparison to the one to come.

     Finally our principal took stage for the final speech of the ceremony. He was a fairly young man, hair still jet black and eyes still full of life, which was rare in the administrative business. He had been our principal in middle school and in recent years he had been promoted to principal of the high school, so the senior class was very much familiar with him. He had this reoccurring gag in which no matter what day it was he would always end the morning announcements with, “Have a good day guys and remember it’s almost Friday!” So it was only fitting his last words to us were, “ Good luck in whatever it is you choose to do and remember guys, it truly is almost Friday….” Silence broke out among not only the students but even the families in the stands. It was as if even they, who had no idea as to the significance of those words could sense the wave of emotion those words spread throughout the field.  I have never been one for tears but I couldn’t help and let go of not only that but the tears and breath I had been holding onto my entire high school career. It felt amazing to not only be freed from the shackles that were Citrus Hill high school but also the resulting emotions that had bottled up for four years. At that moment I realized my entire high school career was spent waiting for Friday. Friday was finally here.

     A boom of applause, clapping and wolf whistling engulfed the field. I turned to my friends at my side, their tears glistening in the late afternoon sun light and smiles underneath to complete the perfect portrait of happiness. It was beautiful. No one made any effort to hide their tears as we hugged and rejoiced in the full meaning of the word. It was the first time in my life I have been so happy as to jump for joy. I felt as If could jump to the moon. I was weightless, free from it all. What I had originally feared had become the best moment of my life thus far. Very few moments in life live up to their picture perfect movie counterparts. Graduation, at least for me, did. The ceremonial hat toss did in fact move in slow motion as did the tear filled hugs of joy shared between friends that day.

     I walked off the field that late autumn afternoon weighing so little I feared I would float off into the sky. For the first time that I could remember a true genuine smile was graced upon my face. I walked away that day knowing whatever lay ahead of me, regardless of it being good or bad, potentially held happiness. My high school experience, as pain staking as it was, held some of my happiest moments. I also took away with me the knowledge that without adversities and life trials one could never know the true meaning of happiness. These lessons are often times preached to us at younger ages but the truth is some lessons, in order to be fully absorbed, must be learned firsthand.  One begins a journey of a thousand miles on their feet, half way through said journey they drag their worn out body with nothing but their finger nails and at the end they finished that same journey with ten steps and a firm handshake.