Page 51 - PINE CREST 2005
P. 51

EXiT





                                         As I walk through Pine Crest, and I look through the halls or peer into the senior
                                  quad, I often think — “how are we this old, and where did all of the big kids go?”  The
                                  freshman look like middle school runaways, somehow sneaking into high school two
                                  years  too  early.  Listening  to  the juniors  in  my  classes  flip  out  about  GPA brackets
                                  makes me remember and laugh, and I have to fight every impulse to say, “have fun with
                                  that new SAT!  I want to warn them about spending long weekend hours paying huge
                                  sums of money to experience the ultimate horror in SAT tutoring, learning new vocab
                                  words and being forced to have genuine conversations with Mr.  Schnabel,  Mrs.  Bell,
                                  Mrs. Morrison, or all three!”  The college guidance office has become my new home,
                                  and  I  find  myself compulsively  emailing  any  and  every  college  guidance  counselor
                                  who will  listen to my petty  problems about exactly how I should phrase “my biggest
                                  accomplishment”  without  bragging  or exagerrating,  but  still  sounding  like  a  great
                                  candidate.  All anyone can talk or  think about is early decision— who applied where,
                                  who  is  or is  not  getting  in—and  Michelle  Bejar’s  compiled  list  of everyone’s  early
                                  choices is proof of our collective morbid curiosity.
                                         December  15th is synonymous with  Dante’s description of Judgement Day  in
                                  which there are 3 options: paradise (acceptance into the school of your choice); limbo
                                  (the  waiting  period  until  you  get  your  decision  better  known  as  a  the  ever-popular
                                  deferral); or-rejection-consignment to the Ninth Circle.  This entails suddently coming  !
                                          down wtih the flu for at least a week in order to fill out the other applications
                                          which  were  so  deftly  avoided,  and  about  6  more  months  to  really  cultivate
                                          your new best friendships with both Mrs. Hunt and Mrs. Miller.  I find myself
                                          often  wondering—why  couldn’t  my  mother  have just  gone  to  Botswana  or
                                          Thailand or  Cuba for a few months to birth me?
                                  And then, just as every aspect of life seems kind of bleak, when you really just don’t care
                                 anymore about any facet of the Pine Crest Community, you know “senior itis” has fully
                                 set  in.  The  only  thing  I  am  really  enthusiastic  about  is  the  possibility  of shirking  all
                                 responsibilities  as  often  and emphatically  as possible.  The Pine Crest news and gossip
                                 has become so petty, so ridiculous, and even so uninteresting—I know its time to move on
                                   bigger and better  things.  All I want to do is glide through and pray that my senior ytjgr
                                 second trimester grades miraculously won’t be seen by any colleges.
                                   But just when I thought I really was going to crack, suddenly I discovered I had made it
                                 through second trimester, and I  realize  I can sit in the quad for however long I  like,  and
                                 come to school late as often as I want, despite Mrs. Schneider’s scary disapproving looks.
                                  I  am  also  starting  to  realize that  I only  have one trimesters  left  at  the  place I’ve  spent
                                almost my entire  life.  I’m so genuinely excited  to be  around so many of the  people I’ve
                                known for so long, and I really can’t imagine starting completely over somewhere else.  I
                                love how I feel everyone in the class of 2005 knows and understand each others’ quirks—
                                that it isn’t necessary to explain any strange behavior, because it isn’t that strange anymore.
                                There  is  a  growing  feeling  of comfort  I  have  now  around  everyone—  nothing  is  as
                                embarrassing, nothing is as ridiculous, nothing is as important as it once was.
                                 And somehow, over the years, I've also realized that the administration really is endearing,
                                I've worn my Winterfieta t-shirt every weekend for the past three years, and I actually LIKE
                                having a uniform.  As the bell tower  chimes the Beatles or Simon and Garfunkel, it makes
                                me wonder if I have to  leave  here just when things are starting to get good.  I  absolutely
                               despise  cheering  of any  kind  and  really  don’t enjoy  overexerting  my  vocal  chords,  but  I
                                will  shriek the  senior cheer with  perhaps even  more pride  and  excitement and joy as  the
                                year draws to  a close.  So maybe “senioritis” is simply a facade we seniors find necessary to
                               perpetuate a defense mechanism which makes leaving this place, leaving our friends, leaving
                                those  we  love actually possible.







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