Senior Year

Yesterday, my government class went into the lecture hall and talked about Senior Project. Similarly, I had gone at the end of my junior year, but it all felt surreal that day. Everything up until now seems as if it were a century ago, and I am a mere observant on an innocent mortal's life. Reality, in other words, has not hit me yet about graduating, and when it does, it will knock me out cold.

Senior year is like a herd of wildebeests stampeding toward me, but I feel immobile and too paralyzed to move out of its way.



There used to be days when life was "fun", and honestly, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a weekend and did something worth a show-and-tell. I understand that some people declare that high school is the best part of a young person's life, but how can anyone enjoy it with so much pressure?! I have to take challenging classes and obtain equally impressive grades, I have to be the first one in my family to go to college and prove my father wrong, I have to get a job and maintain myself, and I have to make the connections to succeed without any help from family members (mostly because they don't know anyone "worth knowing"). High school students have a much higher chance at getting scholarships to enter the big name universities, and since I have no money to my name, I have to take advantage of where I stand. No where in this schedule, is there time to have fun and chill out with friends in a boring plaza in the middle of this boring town. 

Although I have a strict plan, there is that part of me that just doesn't want to grow up and remain nestled in my parents' home. As due dates for Senior project are getting closer and closer, I find myself procrastinating more and more. Instead of searching for scholarships and what college I want to sell my soul to for four years, I begin to reminisce about the simplicity of my childhood and how much I had overlooked everything.



There was once a man who raced into the parking lot of my apartment building, and he seemed to be going "too fast," that was how I thought of it. Of course I know realize that he was trying to avoid the police, who followed close behind my neighbor and quickly arrested him once cornered. I always thought this guy had done something wrong (obviously), but never did I think, "There's a drug dealer living in my apartment building!" I miss the innocence and ignorance that childhood brings. If it isn't events I had overlooked that I'm thinking about, I'm usually trying to capture the creative and imaginative mind I once had. My sister, my aunt (only eight months older than me), and I would play in my aunt's enormous backyard and invent worlds to explore. There were usually made-up realms that we created specifically for the game that we would play. One of the games I remember didn't have a name, but the three of us were trapped in a video game and had to defeat every level filled with monsters and other obstacles to break free. Where did all of that freedom of thought disappear to?

Now that I'm a Senior, I can only look back at my youth as a faint memory, scurrying out quickly out of my grasps. There is also one more thing to look forward to, and although implied previously, I'm going to state it more directly, and that is adulthood. By January I will turn 18, and even though I am Mexican and have passed the Quinceñera requirements, the age of 18 is much more intimidating. Voting for a better tomorrow is in my future, and other adult responsibilities that come with careers or short-term jobs, taxes. I am anxiously waiting for the herd of wildebeests to trample me with reality.

That Dreaded Day

Anxiety ran through my veins late at night; I knew my life was either about to end or begin anew. All I knew was that tomorrow was the first day of high school, and any minuscule mistake could alter my high school experience forever.

7:00 am, and my alarm was silent. Thirty minutes later, my mom walked into my room, rushing me to put on decent clothes for the first day. Suddenly struck awake, I stood quick on my feet only to clash into the floor from the rush of blood into my head. Clothes were thrown everywhere, as if a tornado of Levis and t-shirts had struck my room. I ran into walls blindly, still unable to see from both the luminous lights and the blood rush, and when I drunkenly found the kitchen, I scarfed down my breakfast, not even tasting the delectable pancakes my mother had made that morning so that I could start the year off right. Everyone was waiting for me in the car, and I knew one thing was for sure, I was going to be late. This may sound like a dramatic fourteen year-old just anxious for her first day of high school, but one little detail had been left out, at the time I lived in American Canyon, and the traffic into Napa from my house was never-ending. 

Sitting in that cramped Toyota only drove my crazy, and watching other people in the cars next to us banging their heads into the dashboards out of frustration, didn't exactly calm my nerves, just gave me ideas. After a long thirty minute drive to Silverado Middle School to drop off my sister, I was finally on my way to a brand new school. The car didn't even slow to a stop when I opened the door and jumped out.

By the time I had met up at the spot where my student-leader mentors were supposed to meet my group, only emptiness welcomed me. I had missed them, and they had the schedule I needed for the rest of the school year. This was unknown territory, so I went to the only place I knew could help me, and it was labeled "Student Services." I walked up to the mysterious woman behind a desk too big for her size, and she redirected me to the Lecture Hall. I didn't want to cause more trouble so I nodded and walked out, only to then contemplate with myself which one of the buildings was the Lecture Hall. A woman was on the stage found in the quad, accepting students inside, so I gave it a shot and turns out I was in the right place. 

One could only hope that my troubles would stop there, but unfortunately for me, they had only begun. 8:50 am and I was still sitting in the Lecture Hall, waiting for my schedule. I had finally received my schedule by the time first period was over, and I was off to my second. It is no surprise that I knew no one in Ms. Drew's H. Algebra 2 class. I saw a familiar face from Silverado Middle School and asked if I could sit with her. Her name is Noemi, and she turned out to be one of my very good friends throughout high school. Third period was a blur, but the most memorable class of the day was fourth. This is the part of the day that I got lost. 

Frantically searching for this unknown classroom, I began asking around and only got vague pointing in very general directions. I was stuck in the parking lot behind the school (what would later become the new jock lot), and was stared at by a teacher standing outside of his classroom. I had passed by this room several times in my attempt to find my class, so I worked up the nerve to ask him if that happened to be Biology, and if he was Mr. Fisher. As it turns out, my Biology class was the only trailer hidden, for no other purpose than to cause me misery, behind the school.

Mr. Fisher's hidden classroom was the end of my troubles, after that the rest of the day passed by fairly quickly and for the most part, normally. This was one of the most frustrating days of my life, and certainly the first day of senior year was no walk in the park, but that is a different story for another blog post. This day will eternally be known as "That Dreaded Day."