And so it Begins… My Senior Year

by Anna Cannon

The first time I was referred to as a senior was during marching fundamentals camp at the end of my junior year when my band director shouted, ‘Seniors! Go get water!’.

Naturally, none of us juniors moved. But then the realization dawned. One of my friends pumped his fist in the air, while another stared into space with panic in her eyes and an expression that was a dead ringer for the grimace emoji.

The drum major sprinted past, shouting, “Yeah seniors!” and a freshman in my section looked at me sadly. I had the sort of epiphany that left me with a sick feeling in my stomach but also with an excited gleam in my eye. Our reactions spanned the emotional range of facing senior year; some are elated, some are crestfallen, and almost all are unsure of what to do.

When my parents were seniors, their lives seemed much simpler than mine. My mother took four classes and worked at the dry cleaners from two to six. My father worked at a veterinary office every other week and hung out at Crystal’s Pizza on Sunday nights. They didn’t attend college recruitment sessions, go on campus tours or take the ACT multiple times. They had the option of the college in their hometown, and that was all.

In my observation, being a senior in today’s generation comes with much more responsibility than it used to. Because of college readiness programs, the necessity of admission and the pervasive idea that college is required for a successful life, high school has become focused almost entirely on the years after we walk across the stage. The omnipresent responsibility of building a resume and getting scholarships has driven the majority of my decisions in high school.

I am the online editor-in-chief of The Tiger Times, the clarinet section leader in the marching band, a serious competitor in UIL Ready Writing and Feature Writing and a member of more clubs than I can count. I’ve visited colleges all over the country, taken the ACT four times, and I’ve been to as many recruitment sessions as Texas High can get together.

While the first three years of high school were mostly about building a resume, the last is essentially a drawn-out moment of truth: we finally find out if all our hard work has paid off.

The application process isn’t as hard as it is tedious. Colleges require a lot of information; after wading through about nine pages of ApplyTexas, I was ready to give up and try my hand as a street musician. Everyone I know avoids the essays like the plague, so if you’re nervous, I encourage you to start early and find a teacher who would be willing to edit for you.

While most of us are going to be legal adults soon, it’s important to realize that not all of us are ready to become entirely self-reliant. We’re going to need help with tax forms for applications, dealing with admissions offices and finding the right dorm. We’re going to need help juggling all of our responsibilities and support during the inevitable breakdowns that come with having to grow up way too fast.

Applying for admission and scholarships is a defining factor of senior year, but it’s certainly not the only thing that makes this school year different. People tend to change when they realize that they don’t have much time to do the things they’re going to lose soon.

Football games fill up with seniors who have given up a night of Netflix for face paint and homemade noisemakers. Kids who used to roll their eyes at cheerleaders sing along and participate in shouting matches at pep rallies. Students who wouldn’t dream of doing anything rebellious participate in the senior prank that the panicked administration would remember for years to come. Friends spend more time together, favorite teachers get more visits outside class and the mundane occurrences of high school life are viewed with nostalgia rather than boredom.

I remember being a freshman and looking up to the seniors with awe and a little bit of fear. They seemed self confident, larger than life and utterly grown up. I realize now that they were forced to grow up, and their confidence wasn’t as deep as I thought it was. They were nervous just like I am now, not really knowing what the future holds and not really knowing what to do about it.

They balanced their jobs, responsibilities and all the curveballs that life threw at them in an Olympic-worthy stunt, just like generations of seniors had done before them. They began just like I did, nervous in their seats on the first day of their freshman year, scared and in awe of the seniors that walked the halls next to them but didn’t even notice they were there. They moved from this chapter to the next in order to recreate themselves, not as children but as members of society. They made lives for themselves, just as I plan to do. Just as all of us plan to do.