whatever

I want to start by saying this isn’t really funny. I know a lot of you were expecting me to come up here for 5-7 minutes and blow you away with my unbelievably witty and undeniably clever humor. Unfortunately, I’ll have to disappoint.

I’m not going to let this be something you’ve heard already. And I don’t want this to be a goodbye either, because a goodbye insinuates I expect to never see you again. But I will. Whether it’s on the news or the front cover of The Wall Street Journal or a blurb on the side of People, I know I’ll see you guys again. In one form or another, at least.

I also don’t want this to be cliché. It’s easy enough to congratulate. I mean, we did do it, didn’t we? Graduate. We spent the past four years getting to this point. We worked our way up from the bottom; starting out as scared pre-pubescent freshman and finishing as awkward mid-pubescent seniors. I don’t need to tell you that. You did it. You did it. Take a deep breath, maybe the first one in four years, and relax. We did it.

I came into high school with braces and buck teeth. I kept my head down and told myself high school was a scarier middle school, and middle school was hell for me. But wasn’t it for everyone? 7:40 AM to 2:40 PM, a bunch of insecure 12 and 13 years trying to fit in. People were ruthless. It was natural to assume high school was four more years of the same.

And then it came. September of 2012, it was here. We walked these halls, back when there were ceilings and a dependable math hallway. Back when we had Ragone and rumors of an actual color day. Back when we would post inspirational quotes on our instagrams and used facebooks for TBH’s and Rates. Back when school started at 7:20 and ended at 2:10. Back when high school was everything, when four years seemed like four decades.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s gone. But you don’t realize that right away. It’s different for every person. It could the last basketball game of the season. Track senior night. Junior Prom. It doesn’t even have to be that significant. It could be a late drive home from a football practice. Leaving five minutes early on a friday. Your first college acceptance letter. The moment where it wasn’t about going to the party or doing well on the chemistry test or sitting next to your friends at lunch. The moment you realized life was bigger than just high school. The moment you realized you were bigger than high school. Because four year turned into four months and now its four weeks and I want to say it’s a given that we were all going to graduate but it wasn’t. It was hard.

And maybe some of you haven’t had your moment. Maybe you won’t have it until you walk across that stage and receive your diploma, or maybe it’ll be on that last night of beach week, if you can remember it. And for others, it won’t be until that day in August, the day you pack up everything you knew and move to an entirely new environment with new people, places, and experiences. And who’s to say you’ll have it then? It could be weeks, months after that. The first Halloween away from home. A messy frat party. A timehop notification. Sometimes the moment is small, other times it’s huge. It can come in fragments, or hit you all at once.

And somewhere in between the football games and the college applications and the after parties I had mine. I can’t place it exactly, I can’t give you a time and a day and tell you that this was when everything changed. And I can’t tell you now, while I’m standing up here, delivering this speech, that the person I am today is ready for everything to change.

But I can tell you this; I am here and I am happy. Because for me, High School is just High School. Sometimes you have good days or great days, and other times you have bad days or worse days. You have people you like, people you don’t, teachers you like, and teachers you don’t. And, for me, well  it’s not like I was popular or anything. I was just kinda there. I had my friends and I had people who weren’t my friends. I’m pretty sure the only reason half of you knew my name was because i frequented the courtyard instead of coming to class.

But that’s ok. When I was younger, I had high expectations for High School. I saw the 25 year olds playing pre pubescent high schoolers in the movies, the ones where the band geeks are called the band geeks and everyone in world goes to the football games. High School was synonymous with the best days of your life. And 10 and 11 year old Andal idolized the high school culture she thought she knew. She had it down to a science.

Everyone got it wrong. High School is that trial and error period. The period where everything that’s supposed to feel right feels wrong and unsure and unjust. High School is staying up all night to write an essay for your 11th grade english class only to find out the draft was a completion grade. High school is never getting asked to a school dance. Or getting asked, but having it be artificial, for the sake the group, of course. High School is messy and amateur, high school keeps us up at night, keeps us thinking, keeps us doubting. High School tests us, makes us wonder if everything is worth it, if we’ll really make it through the next year, month, week, day. High School is fun and crazy and immature and petty while its hellish and mind numbing all at the same time. And, now, High School is nearly over.

Years later, I write this speech, and I think about how 11 year old Andal would think about all this. At first she would disappointed, because high school was never intended to be anything like the movies. Then she’d probably be happy, you know the whole “were finally leaving this hellhole” angsty jargon and whatnot. And then, finally, after the excitement of it all died down, and she really took a second think about this time of her life and how far she’s come and how far she’s grown and how far every single person in this room has grown, I think she would be sad. Because, above everything else, she has been with a really great group of people. And she knows they are going to go far in life.

Thank you Class of 2016. Do Big Things.

less of love letter, more of a goodbye