Graduation is less than a week away. One short week. And—when compared to the eighteen years that have all been pointing to this one moment of achievement—that is an incredibly small amount of time. It’s strange to think that in less than one week our main constancy in life will be gone. Although some of us have been nerds, band geeks, football players, and theatre kids; the one thing that has always been constant is that we have all been students. We have all been children. It’s strange to think that that is changing.
High school itself is a strange experience. It is a web for constant pressure to conform, accompanied by the ongoing need to excel. It is a place where people are striving so hard to fit in that they become things which they really aren’t.
Most people who view me as a senior see me as theatre geek. However, few people know that during my freshman year, I wanted to be just like everybody else. I even went so far as to consider joining the football team. I was terribly shy and scared to death of what people thought of me. In order to still seem somewhat cool, I sang in a band, yet allowing myself to give a speech, much less act on a stage, was extremely difficult. I kept quiet and just tried to do well in my classes without making much of an impact on anyone else. It was both my least favorite and least memorable year at Columbine.
However, I think the best part of high school is that—when surrounded by pressure to be like everyone else—it is the easiest time to find the ways in which you are different. Most people are terrified of this, terrified of not being accepted; but for others, this is when they find the tiny niche that they fit into—away from the outside world, the small outcropping of people to whom they really belong. For me, this niche was the theatre department. I first joined during my sophomore year and have been acting ever since. I took refuge from the drama of high school in the drama of theatre. Acting in the nine productions, which I was extremely blessed to be involved in, led me to realize who I am. It also led me to realize what I want to do with my life, despite not knowing what my major in English next year will really be good for. I am so thankful to the drama department and Mrs. Schwartz for this discovery. When I’ve thought back on how I got to where I am, I realized that maybe discovering who you are is largely based on discovering who you aren’t. Perhaps real understanding comes from allowing yourself to accept that you might not be in the popular crowd, might not be the star of the football team, or might not be everyone’s favorite—while at the same time, accepting that you are who you are. All the pressure of popularity and fitting-in can be a blessing if you realize that in finding shelter from it you will find where you truly belong. I know that I have. Perhaps it is like Antoine de Saint-Exupéry suggests in The Little Prince when he writes: “What makes the desert beautiful . . . is that somewhere it hides a well.” I’m glad that I have found the beauty of Columbine before I have to leave.
Next year, I will be moving to Ft. Collins to attend Colorado State University—where I will more than likely be the only English major living in an engineering dorm. But instead of being scared, I’m excited to once again carve out a little shelter for myself within my new environment. I just hope it will be as good as what I have here. I have really enjoyed the place I have found here at Columbine. To those of you who have provided that place for me--Mrs. Schwartz, the drama department, the Columbine Diversity Club (UIA), the choir department, Key Club, and what is left of Columbine Improv Club—I give a world of thanks. You provided me with a place apart from this giant popularity contest of high school. You have provided me a refuge where I can be myself. It is this refuge that has made me ready for life’s next big step this fall.
This fall, the people who we’ve known for the past eighteen years will be moving on to bigger and better things. The neighborhoods where we sold lemonade as children will have a slightly lowered population. We’re graduating. This is where “real life” begins. Some people have hated high school, claiming that constant peer pressure and other forces cause them to become someone who they aren’t. Yet, as one of my favorite authors, Stephen Chbosky, writes in The Perks of Being a Wallflower: “we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there.” We don’t choose whether or not to fit in, but instead where we fit in.
If there is one thing that I could give to Columbine, it would be that its students allow themselves to be whoever they are. Just be you, because “you” is cool. High school may change all of us, for better or for worse; but I think it is that “better or worse” that matters. The “better or worse” is where we find who we truly are and where we truly belong. The “better or worse” is what I am going to miss.
Love Always,
jim.
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