Open Letter: Farewell
Today I'm going to go to my last full day of high school classes. It's the last time I'm ever going to walk through the halls of my school as a student. It's the last time I'm ever going to sit at those desks and listen to my teachers teach. The next time that I'll be in the building will only be to take two exams, clean my locker out, and sell my textbooks. For my AP Lit class, our teacher is having us write farewell letters to anyone or anything. She wrote one to us as a class. The suggestions to whom we'd write the letter to were parents, friends, boyfriend, girlfriend, teacher, etc.
When I first met you, I was convinced that, at best, I would learn to tolerate you. Everyone told me that I would hate you, that I wasn’t supposed to like you, that I would be better off once we were done and I went to college. The only person who said differently was my mother. She said you would be the best part of my life and that I’d look back regretting not having fun with you if I didn’t let myself go while I could still be with you. I didn’t even try to like you at first. I just tried to get by day by day, one step at a time, breathing in through my nose and out my mouth and trying not to hate you. I think if I told myself I hated you, I never would’ve been able to get over that-it would’ve made it harder, and forcing myself to only dislike you made a big difference.
I don’t think I ever liked you in the end. There were too many things to dislike.
Waking up before the sun came up, five hours of sleep max, being late to class because of senior blocks, freshman backpacks, teachers who couldn’t teach, teachers who refused to admit they were wrong, unreasonable teachers that made you so frustrated you just wanted to storm into the center office and cry, friends from middle school who faded away, infuriating classmates, selfish classmates that made you embarrassed to be part of that grade, the uniform, due dates piling on top of each other, friendless lunch periods, fake friends, rumors, boys (boys), secrets, intolerant religion teachers, probing guidance counselors, and every moment when you just want to leave and never come back.
You’re easy to hate and I know that a lot of my peers do-I know a lot of them are glad that we’re leaving soon and most of them think they won’t look back even once.
Unlike them, I will.
I never came to really like you, but I never hated you and I don’t dislike you anymore. Somewhere along the road, there were a few things that I came to like about you.
Hysterically laughing with friends when you know you’ve failed a test, sprinting through the halls and skidding into the class just as the bell rings, teachers who can teach, teachers who inspire you past the classroom and the subject they’re in charge of, teachers who you want to be your best friend, teachers who mentor you, teachers who become a second or third parent to you, classmates who you love even when you’re not close to them, best friends, all your friends, real friends, when those secrets finally come out and you have a good long cry about it with your closest friend, boys (boys), inside jokes, laughing yourself sick at lunch, lunch periods full of friends, staying after school and talking at the lockers, your bus driver who’s rough on the outside and sweet on the inside, playing in the courtyard, religion teachers who don’t force their opinions on you, breaking uniform rules and getting away with it, guidance counselors who you love talking to, and every moment when you’re too in love with the student body-moments like the beginning of the year, moments like Superdance, moments like plays and concerts and games.
I think college will be a new adventure, but for now, I think of the past four years with you as something I’ll never be able to describe in one word, one sentence. It takes too much to even begin to explain what these past four years have been. I can’t say good, because they haven’t always been, but I can’t say bad, because they haven’t been that either. They’ve been what they’ve been and I honestly wouldn’t have changed a single thing about them. Even if I could, I wouldn’t take back any of the mistakes I’ve made because then something about these four years would have changed, and I don’t want that. I might not have liked any of the bad things when they’d happened, but, as corny as it is, when they mix together with the good things in my memories now, it’s what’d made the experience such a roller coaster and I love it.
I could never come to like you but I don’t dislike you, so I guess that means I love you.
Thanks, high school. Thank you for an indescribable four years. I’m sad-really, incredibly sad-to see you go. I’m sad that I have to leave, but I’m happy with how I’m leaving you. I’m happy because I think I’ve made the most of our time together, and unlike those classmates around me who insist that they won’t shed a tear, I think I’m going to shed lots. Unlike them, I’m not going to try my best to forget about you as I move forward. You’re going to be on the backburner for a bit while I flounder around in college trying to get my bearings. But I’ll look back. I’ll definitely look back. I met new friends that have now become my closest through you, and I became closest friends with a friend I already knew through you too. Every time I talk to them, as rare as it might be while we start and get settled into this new adventure, I’m going to be talking to you in a way. You’ll be with me through them, and I don’t think even those classmates who claim they hate you will be able to leave you forever.
Whether I matured into an adult or not through you like I’m supposed to have done, I don’t know. I hope I have. But I know that because of you I’ve definitely grown in one way or another, and I think that’s the reason you’ll be something I won’t forget, even if I come to think of you less and less and less as years pass. At least for right now, though, all I can think about is how I’m leaving you and how much I’ll miss you.
Goodbye, high school. I love you. Thank you.
When I first met you, I was convinced that, at best, I would learn to tolerate you. Everyone told me that I would hate you, that I wasn’t supposed to like you, that I would be better off once we were done and I went to college. The only person who said differently was my mother. She said you would be the best part of my life and that I’d look back regretting not having fun with you if I didn’t let myself go while I could still be with you. I didn’t even try to like you at first. I just tried to get by day by day, one step at a time, breathing in through my nose and out my mouth and trying not to hate you. I think if I told myself I hated you, I never would’ve been able to get over that-it would’ve made it harder, and forcing myself to only dislike you made a big difference.
I don’t think I ever liked you in the end. There were too many things to dislike.
Waking up before the sun came up, five hours of sleep max, being late to class because of senior blocks, freshman backpacks, teachers who couldn’t teach, teachers who refused to admit they were wrong, unreasonable teachers that made you so frustrated you just wanted to storm into the center office and cry, friends from middle school who faded away, infuriating classmates, selfish classmates that made you embarrassed to be part of that grade, the uniform, due dates piling on top of each other, friendless lunch periods, fake friends, rumors, boys (boys), secrets, intolerant religion teachers, probing guidance counselors, and every moment when you just want to leave and never come back.
You’re easy to hate and I know that a lot of my peers do-I know a lot of them are glad that we’re leaving soon and most of them think they won’t look back even once.
Unlike them, I will.
I never came to really like you, but I never hated you and I don’t dislike you anymore. Somewhere along the road, there were a few things that I came to like about you.
Hysterically laughing with friends when you know you’ve failed a test, sprinting through the halls and skidding into the class just as the bell rings, teachers who can teach, teachers who inspire you past the classroom and the subject they’re in charge of, teachers who you want to be your best friend, teachers who mentor you, teachers who become a second or third parent to you, classmates who you love even when you’re not close to them, best friends, all your friends, real friends, when those secrets finally come out and you have a good long cry about it with your closest friend, boys (boys), inside jokes, laughing yourself sick at lunch, lunch periods full of friends, staying after school and talking at the lockers, your bus driver who’s rough on the outside and sweet on the inside, playing in the courtyard, religion teachers who don’t force their opinions on you, breaking uniform rules and getting away with it, guidance counselors who you love talking to, and every moment when you’re too in love with the student body-moments like the beginning of the year, moments like Superdance, moments like plays and concerts and games.
I think college will be a new adventure, but for now, I think of the past four years with you as something I’ll never be able to describe in one word, one sentence. It takes too much to even begin to explain what these past four years have been. I can’t say good, because they haven’t always been, but I can’t say bad, because they haven’t been that either. They’ve been what they’ve been and I honestly wouldn’t have changed a single thing about them. Even if I could, I wouldn’t take back any of the mistakes I’ve made because then something about these four years would have changed, and I don’t want that. I might not have liked any of the bad things when they’d happened, but, as corny as it is, when they mix together with the good things in my memories now, it’s what’d made the experience such a roller coaster and I love it.
I could never come to like you but I don’t dislike you, so I guess that means I love you.
Thanks, high school. Thank you for an indescribable four years. I’m sad-really, incredibly sad-to see you go. I’m sad that I have to leave, but I’m happy with how I’m leaving you. I’m happy because I think I’ve made the most of our time together, and unlike those classmates around me who insist that they won’t shed a tear, I think I’m going to shed lots. Unlike them, I’m not going to try my best to forget about you as I move forward. You’re going to be on the backburner for a bit while I flounder around in college trying to get my bearings. But I’ll look back. I’ll definitely look back. I met new friends that have now become my closest through you, and I became closest friends with a friend I already knew through you too. Every time I talk to them, as rare as it might be while we start and get settled into this new adventure, I’m going to be talking to you in a way. You’ll be with me through them, and I don’t think even those classmates who claim they hate you will be able to leave you forever.
Whether I matured into an adult or not through you like I’m supposed to have done, I don’t know. I hope I have. But I know that because of you I’ve definitely grown in one way or another, and I think that’s the reason you’ll be something I won’t forget, even if I come to think of you less and less and less as years pass. At least for right now, though, all I can think about is how I’m leaving you and how much I’ll miss you.
Goodbye, high school. I love you. Thank you.