Beginning the Goodbyes

Okay. Here it goes. Let’s be real here, this was too much for Facebook.

Tomorrow will be my last day of high school classes and I’m honestly unsure how to feel about that. On one hand, I’m obviously excited, it would seem odd not to be. Finally, I will be off on my own, an adult, able to use my own free will to determine what I learn, where I learn, and when I learn. I will be my own person and no flawed and corrupted school district will be able to direct my life for me. On the other hand, everything listed above. I will be on my own, I will have to take charge of my own life decisions, I will no longer really have the choice to be passive. And all of that is honestly terrifying. I’ve been scared of all of this since probably sixth grade when I stayed up crying because I thought I wasn’t going to get to be a kid anymore. But the excitement weighs out the fear on that end, it has to. People have been making this transition for thousands of years and the vast majority have turned out alright in the grand scheme of things. No, what is really sad about this day is not what I must face, it is what I must leave behind.

Booker T. Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts is arguably the best decision I have ever made. These past four years have been nothing short of magical. The butterflies in my stomach have stuck around since that first day, first monologue, first performance, and don’t seem to be going anywhere now. I showed up on Flora Street in 2010 a timid, quiet kid who had figured out that everyone thought she was kind of obnoxious in middle school. Now, I don’t know where that kid is. Booker T. has taught me not to be afraid of myself or of anyone else. I can talk to strangers now and I can’t begin explain what an accomplishment that is. Booker T. has taught me that I have things to say and a voice to say things with. Booker T. has taught me to love myself because I’m the only self I’ve got and, hey, I’m not too shabby. And when I say that Booker T. has taught me these things, that has to include, not only my classes and teachers, but my friends.

I’m not sure I can write this next paragraph without tearing up a little bit. My friends. My ridiculous, wonderful, talented friends. Though we were a bit spread out freshman year, somehow we were a family by the end of 2012. What started as a “book club” that didn’t talk about books, became a friend group that couldn’t shut up about each other. We made a unit and even though we fight and disagree sometimes, it’s always over something so stupid it doesn’t make a difference in the end. My friends have made me the spastic know-it-all I am today and I love them for that. I couldn’t have found them anywhere else and I’m so grateful they found me. And beyond the group of “white theater girls and Nick”, I’ve got my boys. Boys, I’m not your mother, but I love you very much. Eat your vegetables and keep in touch. So even though we will literally be all over the map next year, we will still be a family and you will still be my Life Club. Aw shit, there it goes. I’m tearing up. Dammit. “Nice hands, Pete!” Okay better. Love you guys!

And I guess that seems a good a time as any to start wrapping it up. Although it’s hard to express out loud, I’ve got to start saying my goodbyes to the schedule I finish out tomorrow. Goodbyes to Betzen and Cowen and D’Avignon and Fairbear. Goodbyes to Ms. J and Brybry and Reitz and Lindsay. Goodbyes that will eventually lead me to awkward public tears that make me look a little bit like a squid. So I guess, to avoid the blockage of my airways when it comes time to verbalize my goodbyes, I’ll start now with a big broad hug of a goodbye.

Goodbye Booker T. it’s been grand. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change a thing.