6:30 A.M.: The first day of senior year had arrived. I jumped out of bed and turned on a playlist of S Club 7 and the Backstreet Boys. I only do this if I’m extremely excited for what the day has in store for me, and this was definitely one of those days. It was the last time I would spring out of bed to head off to my first day of high school, and the first time I felt like I was actually ready for it.
Would I go to the wrong class? Mess up my lunch schedule? Would I remember my locker combination? There was a chance- okay, a very small chance, but those details were irrelevant this year. I was only worried about how the teachers and students would react to what was sitting on their desks: the first newspaper of the 2010-2011 school year with my name above the title Editor-In-Chief.
As editor-in-chief, I had been working producing this issue during the two weeks before school started. The production of the first issue started the day after I got home from my summer job in Cape Cod, and three days before the first day of my captain-season for field hockey. The days to come were run by tired legs and a very tired brain. Long hours, delusional sing-offs, and unwilling student writers who just couldn’t come home from vacation to write their drafts engulfed my life like the humidity in New Jersey. With an air conditioner that produced much more noise than actual air circulation, my staff and I figured out how to pull it all together.
6:43AM: I danced around my room, straightened my hair, and put on my “Why yes, I am the editor-in-chief of the high-quality-award-winning-20-
I’m not a sentimental high school student. I’ve been ready for college since my middle school’s elaborate eighth grade graduation. I don’t relish the smell of the cafeteria or anxiously anticipate school spirit days. In fact, I represent my school unconsciously most of the time- wearing its name in big black bold font across my uniform on the field hockey and lacrosse fields or by publishing its newspaper. On that morning however, I felt electrified and was ready to make a difference in my school, starting with the first issue of the newspaper.
7:05AM: With my car keys and paper bag lunch in hand (that hopefully wouldn’t break and spill across the hallway like it did on the first day of freshman year) I kissed my parents goodbye and headed off to school. I parked my car in the senior parking lot and waltzed through the doors like a superstar. Senior year would be all about confidence, and it started that day.
Did underclassmen bow down to my seniority like they do in the movies? No. Did I remember my locker combination? No. Did my peers and teachers comment on the layout of the paper and compliment me for all of my hard work (and how cute my dress was)? They sure did. Ke$ha might have woken up that morning feeling like P. Diddy, but I woke up proud of what I had accomplished and ready to start the year on the best foot my sandal could fit in.