The COVID-19 quarantine has given Lick-Wilmerding seniors significant time to reflect on our four years of high school as they come to a close. We sit in our rooms each week staring at screens displaying faces we might not see again for many months. The people who once made up the daily lives and social interactions of Lick seniors are abruptly not a part of our regular lives. Each day goes by in unnerving isolation with the understanding that in a few days we will no longer be students of Lick-Wilmerding. We will no longer be high schoolers, no longer bear that youthful sense of anticipation and carefree attitude that coincides with the infinite possibilities of high school. As we age, our plausible future becomes more concrete and defined, and thereby less malleable and open.
Often in my youth, I was posed with the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?” It seems like a simple question, though my understanding and response to it has changed as I have matured. The wishful answers in my early childhood are no longer real possibilities. I came to terms with the fact that I will never be an NFL quarterback. Though this seems obvious now, it was a real desire of mine when I was little. I have found that my bright-eyed potential futures fade with age as my life becomes “what it is” rather than “what it might be.”
This quarantine has been extremely difficult for seniors, including myself, as we come to terms with the fact that many of us will never step foot on Lick’s campus again. We will never walk through those doors in the morning excited to see everyone. We will never walk out those doors in the afternoon ready for sports or hours of homework. Though these seem like minor and insignificant daily occurrences, all the little things each day ultimately make up being in high school. It is difficult to delineate exactly what being in high school is. It likely means different things for different people. For me, it meant carpooling thirty minutes every morning to school and running to class, often late. It meant walking with my classmates to and from classes. It meant passing my free time in the Caf with my friends and peers. Waiting in line for lunch or playing basketball during tutorials. It meant banter and jokes during class or debating classwork during frees. It meant walking to City for practices or long bus rides with my teammates. It meant late nights with the boys and all the extracurriculars. It meant dependable, fun, and is all I could ever ask for from four years of high school.
Yet now, sitting at my desk for Zoom classes, I feel like I am not fully in high school. Days pass, bringing me closer to the inevitable last classes, to my final moments as a high school student. I cling to each day, trying to squeeze what’s left out of my high school experience. I cannot properly articulate the bittersweet sadness of knowing high school is about to end. The night before writing this article, I was watching “Back to the Future.” While I do not think that Marty McFly’s experience in high school is similar to my own, I realized that for only the next three weeks I can presently empathize with Marty. After three weeks, I can only watch “Back to the Future” with nostalgia and remembrance of my own time in high school. And that’s how it’ll be forever onward in a few days. High school will only be something I remember, something that exists only in my thoughts and recollections. Thus, I hate the fact that COVID-19 expedited this shift, that even now, “being in high school” is only something that exists in memory. If only Mr. Friedman could build us a time-travelling Delorean so that the memory of high school could be a reality again.
Some people believe that the second semester of senior year is the best time not only in high school, but in one’s entire educational career. Many claim that this semester is the best semester of high school because grades somehow lose their already arbitrary value. However, I would contend that grades are just as important (or unimportant) as they have been in the seven previous semesters. Although Lick does define itself as a college preparatory institution, the value of a Lick education is not some reward of college acceptance. I argue that the point of attending Lick is not so they can give you a transcript and write teacher recommendations. Students should not come to Lick if their only goal in attending is leaving after graduation. It took me three years to realize this. However, I think that, especially in sophomore and junior year, students can be so caught up about what comes after high school that we are not cognizant of how meaningful our four years are, and how quickly they go by. My four years at Lick have given me so much more than simply a path to college. It has given me my best friends. It has given me peers who have challenged my conceptions and teachers who have pushed me to grow. Most of all, however, it has been an experience that has been transformative in my thinking. The person I am as I write this final article for the Paper Tiger is entirely different from the person who walked into Lick for Frosh Orientation. I have learned to love art and literature. I have learned to consider the world around me and my role in society. Most of all, however, I have learned to think, and think powerfully, regardless of the subject at hand. I am eager to read the letter I wrote to myself in freshman English to see just how much Lick has matured me. And for these wonderful four years that have shaped me in innumerable ways, I am unequivocally thankful to my peers and teachers who have taught me so much, who I may not get a chance to thank in person.
Quarantine has taught me new lessons, as well. It has taught me that plans are subject to change. I had a vision of what graduation and prom would look like; what my final classes and final goodbyes would feel like. However, I have accepted that these visions will never materialize. Moreover, I now know not to presume my future, for nothing is guaranteed, not even my high school graduation. My future is in its foundation unknown. And to the question about what I might be when I grow up, I don’t know who I will become or what I will do. As I grow up I will likely gain a clearer understanding as other paths are closed off and I follow my curiosities about the world. Regardless, I cannot know for certain what the future holds for me. I am only certain that Lick has intentionally left my future unknown, still with an incredible number of possibilities (even though NFL Quarterback might not be included). And for these possibilities, for letting me keep my bright-eyed wonderment about what the future holds, for an amazingly transmutational four years, and for the best friends, peers, and teachers who will forever be a part of my life, I say thank you. As a soon to be graduate, I am scared to part with you, but also excited for what comes next. I apologize for the sciolistic and overly-emotional pontification. But for now, with sadness, goodbye Lick-Wilmerding.
