Emily Azzarito, Senior
I’m not really sure why I’m writing this. I don’t even take journalism. I’m not getting credit for this. I’m certainly not getting paid for this. And I definitely do not have time for this. I’ve been trying out this new policy of doing as little unnecessary work as possible, without failing all of my classes. But I’m already two days past the deadline for finishing this opinions piece, so I better just get it out of the way.
The second semester of senior year is supposed to be a glorious time in which grades don’t really matter and students are allowed, if not encouraged, to take a breath, step back, and realize just how far all of our hard work has gotten us. That being said, why is it that most of my friends at the lunch table seem just as stressed out as they’ve ever been? Students have aspired to become Second Semester Seniors since middle school. Who hasn’t dreamt of Tuesday evenings spent on the couch, binging on Netflix while binging on ice cream, followed by your arrival to the high school the next morning at a comfortable 7:32 am only to give your teacher a confident, yet suave update that you have not, in fact, done the homework.
Although college apps are done, and plenty of us already know where we’ll be spending the next four years, it seems like we are still doing all the homework we’d normally do and studying just as much as we normally would simply by force of habit. As products of the New Canaan Public School system, we’ve been trained from a very young age to push ourselves 110% every single day by our teachers, coaches, and parents. After 12+ years worth of dark circles under our eyes, weekly anxiety attacks, migraines, and emotional breakdowns, all gearing towards college admittance, none of us have ever had the chance to learn how to slack.
Slacking is a delicate art. Knowing where the line is between “Doing just enough to get by while still having a good time” and “OMG Northwestern just retracted my acceptance because I failed all five of my classes. Lol, oops” is extremely important. But for us to talk about slacking like it’s something we understand is just wrong. Our idea of “taking the night off” is doing the physics and econ homework, gov assignment, studying for a math quiz, but skipping a few chapters of the reading for Mr. McAteer’s AP English class. Because none of us have ever learned how to properly neglect our responsibilities as any good Second Semester Senior should, our dark circles are still bright purple, our hair is still frizzy and in need of washing, our acne still flares the night just before a test, and still none of us are getting enough sleep.
The best part about being a Second Semester Senior is going to the lunchroom to hear your friends shriek and hug and celebrate their various acceptance letters to colleges, while you sit there trying to eat your apple slices knowing you have nothing to celebrate. Their college posts on Facebook surpass 300 likes within hours, and my profile picture still has fewer likes than a sophomore’s. Getting deferred from your safety schools is not the best feeling in the world, but the worst is when I try to put on a smile and wind up not being able to relate whatsoever:
Me: “OMG congrats!! I’m so happy for you! Do you think you’re gonna go?”
Kid who no longer has to worry about the fate of their future: “I mean, it definitely wasn’t my first choice, but it’s good to know I’ve got a back up, you know?”
While some try to keep a tight lip about where they’ve applied and where they’ve gotten in, others like to parade their acceptances around the lunchroom by wearing a different crimson sweatshirt for every day of the week in case none of us heard the first time that they’ll be attending an Ivy League school in the fall.
If the high school lunchroom, a breeding ground for disappointment and loss of self-esteem has taught me anything, it’s that where you go or where you get in does not guarantee success. Neither does our chronic inability to slow down, take a breather, and enjoy our last few months of school. Success is taking the opportunities presented to us, applying our talents, passions, and intellect to them, and inspiring the crap out of the people around us to do the same. Success also requires us to realize that sometimes it’s good to pause, collapse in front of the TV with a half gallon of ice cream in our laps, and be proud of all of the work we’ve done, all of the relationships we’ve built, and all of the small dreams we’ve already turned into realities. So whether you’re celebrating your admittance to the college of your dreams, or the simple fact that you’ve survived twelve years of rigorous and competitive New Canaan Public Schooling, grab a tub of Turkey Hill, a couple spoons for you and your friends, and be sure to notify Mr. Reid by email that your physics homework is going to be a day late.
