Freshmen

"Please tell me we weren't like that when we were freshmen!"

I hear that sentence a lot. And what's scary is, we probably were. I choose not to think about it too hard for fear of remembering too vividly.

I do remember various parts of my first day of freshman year quite well. It was a pretty important day in relation to the rest of my life, looking back. I finally got the perfect reassurance that I'd made the right choice regarding my secondary education. What reassurance that was!

I remember what I wore and I remember walking sheepishly into the auditorium for the first time. I remember scanning around for a familiar face and making a beeline towards it, and even though those faces weren't entirely familiar, they accepted me without question. The auditorium clumped into middle school groups.

I remember the Bon Jovi song "Welcome to Wherever You Are" blaring, and the line "that right here, right now, you're exactly where you're supposed to be" sticking out to me. I sat there, pulling at my already-annoying nametag, and hoping with all my heart that Bon Jovi was correct. He was.

I remember my teacher (who would later become one of my favorite people in the world) telling me to write on the poster cause I looked like I'd have good hand writing, and panicking inwardly cause my look is deceiving. I remember being scared of a large, gothic kid, who would later become a good friend and the most unscary person I know.

I remember the cheesiness of getting little pieces of metal with words of inspiration on them. A level of cheesiness that was to permeate my high school experience.

But what I remember most of all was sitting there with my pencil poised above the first fresh sheet of notebook paper of the year, trying to figure out where I was from for my poem. I don't really remember what I said, but I'm pretty sure I'd write a totally different version now. I'm from this weird school and these exceptional classmates and this strange ride I embarked on what feels like so long ago.

This week, I've been standing in front of groups of freshmen with four years of experience behind me. They couldn't even fathom what the next four years hold in store for them. Knowing what I know now, I would want freshman me to jump at the chance to talk to an ECHS Senior, though I know I was just as naive as those are, and wouldn't see the value. There are just some things you have to learn on your own.

I never really appreciated how much maturing occurs during those years until I was staring it right in the face. I'm both glad it's over for me and jealous of their unfolding opportunity. I feel so old.

My "I Am From" poem may change many more times as I meander through life, but I'm pretty sure "I Am From ECHS" will be a permanent fixture.