Dear Bingham High School,

I love you, but holy cow, I’m glad I’m graduating. I never thought that I’d suffer from senioritis to such a degree, but here I am, dragging myself out of bed five minutes before I have to leave so that I’m not tardy. At the same time, I still feel like I’m that same clueless sophomore (and current sophomores, don’t be offended. Next year when the fresh meat walks in, you’ll know exactly what I mean). I’ll walk down the stairway, and half the time, still don’t know where I’ll end up. The lunch lines still terrify me, and I won’t even start on the parking lot. Let’s just say that I’ve almost been hit by the same sports car three times in the past two months.

This year has been simultaneously the fastest and slowest nine months of my life. At the semester, I dropped Statistics so I could take a gym class and graduate. It’s only been one quarter since then, but it seems like I haven’t done math homework in at least a year. Then I remember that graduation is in a month and that after this summer, I’m paying rent and cooking my own food. I can’t even cook spaghetti without burning myself! What am I going to do? There’s only so much Wendy’s a girl can have before her self-esteem is thrown away with the junior bacon cheeseburger wrapper.

I’m not going to miss waking up before the sun rises, or scraping my car windows in the middle of April because there’s no room in the garage. Goodbye, wearing shorts and bringing a blanket on the same day, since half of my classes are saunas, and the others take place in Antarctica. Farewell, group projects with people that would rather be anywhere else than taking advantage of this amazing education we’ve been gifted. Well… let’s be real. Those aren’t going away, but at least in college, I’ll be working with people from my same major, who have the same interests as me.

Not everything about high school is that bad, though. I’m going to miss our art teachers who push every student to their best and encourage talented artists to find careers that fit them. Someday soon will be my last time running to Fiiz, trying to make it back to class on time without spilling my Raspberry Sorbet. I’ll be sad to wave my clubs goodbye and watch my friends scatter across the state to every college except for mine.

Deep down, I know that I’ll make new, life-long friends when college calls my name, but my friends now are the people I grew up with. They watched me go through my awkward phase that lasted sixteen-and-a-half years. These are the people who help me crash all-nighters with Nerf guns and terrifying masks. They picked me up after my first heartbreak and taught me how to move on because I am a goddess.

Make your memories. Now is when you can, as my role model Ms. Frizzle says, “Take chances, make mistakes, and get messy!” I wish I could jump into a bus and travel across the world, but unfortunately, I don’t have my magical commercial driver’s license. But hey, I’ve got the “get messy” part down to a T. Once you’ve made banana smoothies, then have a dramatic fight with the banana peels, you know you’re living life to the fullest.

Luckily, in college, I can do just as many dumb things without the fear that my mom will walk in on me throwing a banana peel at my friend’s face. Even though I’m literally paying for every second I spend on campus, I can’t wait for the next chapter of life.

Sayonara,

Kallie Brown, A&E Editor