I'm sitting in advisory class with nine minutes to the bell. Having been successfully plied into consuming waffles the consistency of cardboard, we wait impatiently for the announcements to play.
That's a lie.
Someone at the table to my right was discussing the nature of bongs earlier (...okay), and the persons sitting to my left are playing with batteries and saying words that wash over me instead of sticking.
The announcements play. Next period we will take our senior panoramic photo, which has left many in a tizzy of excitement. The last time I took a panoramic photo was in second grade, and in that case it was because the school was closing. All but I, who would soon move overseas, would attend a shiny new school nearby the following year.
I think that maybe, for many of my peers, this is the high point. We're seniors, the "top" of the school, soon to graduate and have accomplished something tangible. I don't really see it that way. I haven't been born and bred here in tiny town Texas.
For me this is merely the beginning, and I guess for that I am ready to celebrate.
