Four years ago we stepped into high school as individuals seeking to do well, to find our identity, to find our best friend. We opened our lockers for the first time, looked at our schedules, and thought about how awesome it was to finally be in high school. Four years ago we met our best friend, went to our first school dance, and had a crush on a cute senior. Four years ago, we couldn’t wait to get older. Three years ago we stepped into high school believing that we owned the place.
No longer the lowly freshman, who when we look back now were completely weird. It’s safe to say we all thought we were much cooler, but who knows. We were nothing but individuals searching for themselves, looking to fit in, wanting to achieve something. We followed our daily routines, got our licenses, expanded our circle of friends, and talked about parties. Three years ago we made a new best friend, went out with our friends every weekend, thought we were too mature for school dances. Three years ago we couldn’t wait to get older.
Two years ago we became upper classman. We began to realize that we actually were growing up. We started driving out on weekends. Two years ago we realized who our true friends were and cherished the times we spent with them. We found where we fit in, yet still seemed to be looking for something else. Two years ago we started talking about college, thinking it was still so far away. We had our junior prom, cheered our hardest at all the football games, and started to realize that time really does fly. But two years ago we still couldn’t wait to get older.
The Essay on Beloved Years Ago
Toni Morrison's Beloved is set in rural Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1873. The novel is centered on a woman named Sethe, who is the mother of four children, and an escapee from slavery in a Kentucky plantation 18 years ago. She lives with her daughter, Denver in a shabby house at 124 Bluestone, that they share with the ghost of a dead baby, which haunts Sethe by reminding her of past tragedies. Paul D, ...
About a year ago we entered the school as seniors. We had senioritis before classes even resumed, we got to leave school early and come in late. We got to park on campus and leave school for lunch, something we’ve looked forward to most. Everything we did was our last. It was the last Homecoming pep rally, our last season in a sport, our last birthday at home. One year ago we took our time together for granted, we went to parties on the weekend, we rebelled, and we learned. One year ago, we still had the same best friend and cherished time spent with them. We started applying to college, far and near. We got accepted; we got rejected, and then ended up finding exactly where we wanted to go. We realized that we would no longer have the comfort of home within a year.
Now, we finally realize that we could have waited to get older. We realize that time has somehow slipped away and soon we will be saying good-bye to our friends, our family, and our homes. It could be for a short time or a very long time. Soon we’ll graduate, sit for the last time with everyone. It is the last time we will all be together, recognized as the class of 2011. Now, we are getting excited about starting over, getting sad about what we will leave behind, getting anxious to move on. Now we realize just how important our best friends are, how much fun we really did have in the four years. Now we wish we could be younger. We wish we could have taken the time to appreciate every moment, to slow down time. Now we face having to say good-bye.
Four years brought change. Friendship held us strong when things were shaky, in good times and bad, in laughter and tears, through boyfriends and girlfriends, bad grades, family problems, and love, our friends showed us that life was worth enjoying. With them, we wanted to grow up so quickly.
As we grow up we learn that even the one person, who wasn’t supposed to let you down, probably will. You will have your heart broken, probably more than once, and it’s not easier the second time around. You’ll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You’ll fight with your best friend, and you may even fall in love with them. Go ahead and take too many pictures, laugh way too much, and love like you’ve never been hurt before.
The Homework on The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Many people enjoy different times of the year. It may be Spring, Winter, January, or even February. It is the most wonderful time of the year when its summer, because its vacation time, you spend time with friends and the temperature is just right for a number of activities. In fact, summer is the most wonderful time of the year because its vacation time. Summer is the longest break you get from ...
Senior year is unlike any other. In my opinion, here are a few things that you should remember. It won’t hit you when you wake up for your last first day of school. It won’t hit you when you cheer at your last homecoming game and attend your last football game. It won’t hit you as you go to your last homecoming dance. It won’t hit you as you enter the floor to perform at state for the last time. It won’t hit you as you fill out the countless college applications. It won’t hit you as you write that generic essay letter that you try to use for all your applications. It won’t hit you as your college friends return for Christmas break and give you all their advice.
It won’t hit you as you celebrate New Year’s with the friends you have known since childhood. It won’t hit you when you cheer at your last senior night and cry with your teammates that have supported you all the way through. You won’t feel it when you are having the time of your life at your last spring break with all your friends. You don’t realize it during senior skip day, when everyone, no matter what group you are in, has a blast. When May finally comes around and you realize that it is your last Prom, but you don’t really feel it when you are there having the time of your life. You begin to realize it at Graduation when you look around and realize that you will never see half of these people ever again.
