I’m not going back to school. It’s officially starting to sink in. I’ve been in school since I was three years old and my life revolved around it — clubs, due dates, essays, exams, back to school shopping, that first day of school outfit, schedules and teachers.
This is the first year of my life that I’m not begging to go back to school shopping. It’s the first year that I’m not tirelessly deciding what to wear on that first day back.
I’ve always been someone who tried really hard in school. I always studied and handed assignments in on time. When I did poorly on exams or papers, I got genuinely upset and fell into a funk. It feels almost sad that all of those years have amounted to a single diploma…one that, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not entirely sure where I put it.
I’m quite Type A in the sense that I like to know what’s going to happen next. I like having at least a vague sense of plans. With school, there was the structure I needed. You knew what came next. Maybe you didn’t know what school you’d end up in, but you knew what to expect. Or, at least where you were going next. It was a checklist:
Elementary school? Check.
Middle school? Painful, but check.
High school? Check.
College! Check.
And, how fitting that my graduation was outdoors, uncovered during a torrential downpour. Mother Nature was absolutely setting a tone for the future.
Now, all of the things that come after don’t have any order. There’s no list. Some people my age might go to grad school or get a high salary job. Some are already engaged. They could be having kids as we speak…well, as you read!
The remainder of this checklist has been covered with smeared ink and jumbles of words. Jobs, kids, engagement rings, mortgages. They all still seem so far out of reach. I can’t imagine myself in this moment with any of those things (except a job, perhaps).
I still don’t consider myself to be an adult. I am short and small! I love glittery eyeshadow and sneakers! I sleep in a twin size bed.
I keep waiting for the moment when it hits me that I am an adult. Walking alone in New York City? Not an adult. Commuting with a book in my hands? No adult here! Pulling money out of my bank account and swiping a charge card? Totally not an adult.
I feel like I spent my entire life running toward something. I wanted to be able to play outside by myself. I wanted to be able to wear tube tops and lip gloss. I wanted to make Honor Roll. I wanted to be able to meet my friends at the mall. I wanted a boyfriend. I wanted my first kiss. I wanted an internship!
But now I’m realizing I’ll never again have the bliss of not knowing the balance in my bank account, how much a doughnut costs. I will never again know how it feels to have so much free time during daytime hours, to be free after 2:30 pm.
I don’t think I could’ve lived my life any differently. Middle school would have always been awkward. High school would still be a mix of traumatic moments and firsts. But I wish I’d held onto it a little bit tighter.
School was my structure. It was my path. It was a bunch of plans that were, for the most part, set in stone. But I didn’t mind it, even though I bitched my way through assignments and had meltdowns over papers and exams. It was a path and now the path has led me to a bunch of other paths and I don’t know which ones I should take, if any.
Aside from family, school has been the longest lasting relationship I’ve ever had. It was the most consistent and reliable one. I had almost all of my social interactions in school or with people from it. There, I made friends and lost friends. I learned everything and nothing. I became who I am. Hell, I even blogged about school for three years.
After almost two decades, it’s time to say goodbye.
Perhaps we’ll meet again when I have kids years down the road and we’re shopping for highlighters and Elmer’s glue. Maybe I’ll end up in the front of the classroom, having finally decided that I wanted to teach.
For now, I’ll try not to check on social media as everyone goes to homecoming games and decorates their dorms. I’ll try to figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now. I’ll cling on to the friendships I’ve made— it’ll never be that easy to make friends again. I’ll never be pushed to do so quite so hard.
Maybe I’ll finish the half-completed college scrapbook sitting on my dining room table. For now, I think it’s too hard to look back. I need more time to heal.
Goodbye to all of the time, money, textbooks, classmates and teachers I may never see again.
Here’s to hoping the uncertain path will treat me kindly. And to hoping I can still find a checklist to follow…or learn to live without one.
