the nostalgia // water in a well

I don't think it's hit me yet that the school year is over.

I know this sounds strange. For most students, summer is a time of rejoicing and freedom, the complete antithesis of our school days and the three months that may make the nine months of classes all worth it. I'm not completely different in that I agree with the antithesis part, but like the proverbial water-in-a-well it's only after everything has ended that I realize which time of the year I definitely prefer.

Junior year has been amazing for me. The people have become my family, and the campus has become my home. I don't know if it was because my sophomore year was so terrible and junior year was just a stark contrast, or if this year was simply meant to be better than all the others, because it was. Through everything I guess I simply assumed things would never end - naive and stupid of me, I think in retrospect, but unavoidable at the time. I guess that's what happens in times like these - you're in total bliss until it's over and leaves you confused. Even now, I'm thinking that after a short break I'll be going to all the same classes I had been going to last year, be with the same people, do the same things. I can't even admit that this isn't going to happen.

Undoubtedly some things that are going to be happening next year will be better. First, I was in Concert Band this year but skipped Symphonic Band and made it into the Wind Ensemble as a percussionist, which is a feat I didn't in a million years think I would pull off. I also made the snare line in the marching band, and while I can't promise it will be better than last year because of the people, I have high hopes for the season. Instead of being behind and taking AP Bio senior year after most of my friends have taken it this past year, I'm taking college bio over the summer so I can take AP Physics senior year along with everyone else. My favorite teacher prefers seniors and next year is going to be awesome in his AP Latin class; especially as I made it onto the SCRAM committee and will be helping host a huge event at our school. I'm planning to participate in all the major school events next year as a senior, including all three dances and other smaller socials. As the founder to a new club that I'll be officially registering in the fall and is already doing well, I'll be leading my friends and hopefully some younger kids on college tours throughout the state and, when the time comes, throughout the country. I've finished with the hardest teacher at Uni's AP class and believe I am fully prepared for next year's AP English class. And yes, I'll meet new people, possibly freshmen three years younger than me whom I can mentor.

But strangely, I get the nagging feeling to just go back to the old days, to everything I've already finished, no matter how much better the prospects for next year look. I mean, Sorey's class really kicked my butt, but after all the surprise quizzes and essays laced in an evil shade of red, I can't imagine not heading over there first thing in the morning and seeing the room full of lambs and lucky pens. I'll never forget the partying in her room after the AP test (finally a day we can get the Buckner kids jealous). I may be in Ives's classroom next year and will definitely be in Heddon's and Davis's, but it's too obvious that it won't be the same, not at all. Maybe worse, probably better, definitely different. Different people, different responsibilities, the only thing that'll be the same is the classroom in which everything takes place. And sixth period AP Chemistry.

AP Chem changed my life even more than marching band did and is absolutely the best class I've ever taken. We were a small class, around 20 people, and quickly became a sort of dysfunctional family. After a little over a week I knew and was comfortable with every single person in the class. I knew the experience was going to be bomb, but I wouldn't have been able to predict at the time just how amazing it was going to be. It's so hard to imagine I'll never walk toward room 712 after lunch again, wait for Bunch to open the door, and enter the air-conditioned, cozy room alongside a few of my closest friends. After we step inside, it's a completely new world - that feels almost separate from Uni. We do all the same "student things" - cram in last-minute textbook paragraphs before a megatest, copy down answers to a worksheet while Bunch grades homework, talk vivaciously with our classmates about other subjects and events, but the way we feel about each other in the process is something that's been so markedly different from my other classes. My best friend, who sits in front of me on test days (we have different seating arrangements - skipping rows to avoid cheating), and I flip through the test as Bunch passes them out to look for hidden encouraging messages and if our version number says F (we don't want to foreshadow our grade on the test). I'll be talking to a girl about the JCL elections, and Bunch will chime in with "So that's what everyone has been so stressed about." Copying down worksheet answers is a new experience on each other. We'll bribe and beg each other to write down the answers for our lazy selves, call each other angels when someone finally breaks, use the "I can't see the board" excuse to go right up to our friend's desks and start chatting, and take like half the class period to write down the answers to ten questions because we're having so much fun using different colors and gossiping about the recent Japanese drama (Hotaru no Hikari!). I remember topics jumping all over the place during these famous conversations - my best friend the college genius - Patrick's bug story, one that Connie and I appropriately titled "Mushi Hanabi" and his random facts, including a Nokia brand in Taiwan that avoids copyright by slashing through the "o," Connie's meatbun obsession and stories about finding spiders in her bed and taping them to the wall, Ken's Polish-arm-wrestling obsession (trying to test it on Peter) and awesome song taste - we would listen to Boys Like Girls and he laughed at me when I tried listening to Cobra Starships, the two Kevins and their epic genius moments and crazy stories about people getting run over by toy scooters, Lillian's talk-to-herself and panic moments before a test, Peter's packing up extra slowly and getting warnings from Bunch to pack fifteen minutes before the bell, plus his abundance of.. interesting questions, Cody and Sandra's genius selves, our resident gangster, Bunch's always-on sarcasm, usually directed toward the people who don't know whether she's being sarcastic. We had our pen spinning moments and showed off when we got new ones and borrowed each other's pens and forgot to give them back. And (this hurts to remember) but that annoying bug that kept bothering Esther during every test. That horrible ochem unit and that one reactions test that everyone failed, and the recent acid-base test that nearly everyone got >95% on after panicking about it for weeks. And the labs. I worked first with Esther and we never got anything done because we were always talking about her online gaming buddies, but when she moved to Sunny Hills and then to Korea I switched over to work with Connie and Lillian. Eventually Lillian decided to work with Lisa and Connie and I stayed together the rest of the year. We would randomly merge and have 6-person groups that Bunch would stare suspiciously at throughout the class period, make up random data because we screwed up the first few times and run out of time, and burn ourselves (yes). But (almost) as satisfying were those few times we actually aced the labs, did better than everyone else and still managed to finish first and help people who were struggling. Those computer labs - that one laptop with the haunted mouse that kept moving on its own and accelerated until it disappeared would randomly pop up everywhere around the classroom. And those carbon model-building labs where a few of us would inevitably get the parts stuck together and test our friends to see who could disconnect them again - I remember breaking three of my nails doing that lab, although it was supposed to be the least physically taxing. Esther and I gained the reputation of "pyros" and "problem children" during combustion labs because we would randomly light matches and see how long we could wait before blowing them out. We watched The Incredibles and The Pursuit of Happyness after the AP tests with this awesome substitute teacher, who "pretended" not to notice when a couple of us sat in the back in a big circle and played Egyptian Ratslap and Thirteen like there was no tomorrow. The feeling I got when I realized I'd pulled off an A in the class. And finally my best friend. Last but definitely not least and even probably best. The class was amazing in itself, but he was the one who made it the best class I've ever taken. He transferred into my class the third or so day of school (after we'd picked lab partners, darn) after quitting golf, and I thought it was a dream or a joke until like a week into the schedule change. We'd always manage to drop inside jokes and side conversations in class, but no matter how little we got the chance to talk during the period, we'd always walk out together and I'd see him off before a) going to marching band practice or b) heading up the hill to wait for my own ride. Since I made wind ensemble and it's a fixed sixth period, I know I definitely won't have this last period with him again, and it hurts me to realize we won't ever walk out of class to the parking lot together ever again. I think it's more poignant because I've taken two consecutive years of chemistry now with Bunch and I can't imagine senior year without not walking into her classroom for a class ever again. I'm taking a bio class at IVC and whenever Dr. Mo mentions something chemistry-related, it's like this wave of sadness is squeezing out my heart.

But, you know, we shouldn't be sad that it's over,

we should be glad that it happened.