(no subject)
I dreamt about these moments a long time ago.
Maybe I'm being a bit melodramatic, but it's such a monumental event that it's worth noting.
It actually hasn't registered that I'm graduating, and that after wednesday,
I won't be going back to Loyola anymore.
I remember walking in that warm September feeling really nervous and intimidated,
when Jackie and Jessica helped me get to my first period class,
religion with Ms. Bassi where they sat me next to Sergio, who was also Venezuelan by fate.
At times I'm ridiculously glad to be done and out of there, since I think we've all outgrown our big brown box.
But sometimes, I know I will miss ceartain things,
like getting ready in my kilt and racing to class during announcements to Physics with a coffee.
To spares in the cafeteria, which at first were for studying, and are now for socializing.
For walking around and hearing Ms. O'grady chasing some gr.10 or 9 out of uniform.
Those school masses, where everyone tried to skip in our junior years and with just one car, Oakville Place became to place to be.
Staying until 4:30 pm usually for a club meeting, a sport or some sort of extracurricular.
How each morning, you get either the punk/hip-hop/french/pavarotti/etc version of "O' Canada"
The fact that the Janitor is arguably one of the most social beings at school
and the caf ladies actually still scare the crap out of you.
Those "Miss, can I go print something from the computer room?" walks and last minute essays or labs during class that they are due for.
Seeing how far could you really push your uniform, until you realized that being a senior makes you suddenly invisible or exempt
from all possible rules.
Mrs. Mullers crazy stories, and Ms. Copp's socratic method into trying to get us to be more religious.
Picone's "UHOH!!" "No shit!!" "Say Yes.." and random yelling in Chemistry
Watching Mr. McCarthy's vein pulse when we upset him somehow, and his actual patience.
Those death one nighters for data or discrete or calc.
That a class with Pink really meant "I'm going to sleep through this and I can hand in everything the day before midterm"
Watching Ms. Berlingieri freak out at the younger students for simply looking at her and sending them down to the office in a rage. Inexplicably.
The pep-rally each september, watching the loyola lunatics come out in kilts and painted and with pots and pans cheering on our Football team. (Someone please beat Nelson!)
The anticipation of the annual Christmas formal and the afterparties from which most likely you won't remember anything of. If you happen to go to school the next day, most who attended look like they got run over by a car.
Those walks to Monastery, the hotspot for lunch around here, because the cafeteria sucks.
Running like crazy after someone so that you could miraculously catch a ride to swimming practice.
Watching the hawks haven become the dance spot for hip-hop and gine during lunch. It's not like we really buy anything from there anyways.
Those trips to Timmy's during class, when we are "in the bathroom" or "getting something from our locker"
And so much more ...
I must say, that after all of this time, I have become a part of Loyola. Loyola is a part of me.
I have my regrets, but I leave with a sense of seniority and pride. Both my accomplishments and my failures are measured by that school.
I owe many things to the people part of it.
Thank you for the past three years of my life.