Insider's Guide to High School Journals The Tattoo

Senior year: the promise vs. the reality

WARREN, Michigan, U.S.A. — School. I really hate it. But on the bright side, it’ll be done in a year. You see, I’m a senior!
Every time I think about that, I get a little grin.
At registration this year, I kept thinking this would be the best year ever – open campus privileges, our own parking lot, and prom at the end of the year.
Now, I’m not so sure.
My choir teacher quit and my journalism teacher isn’t teaching journalism, so I didn’t get the two teachers I felt closest to.
What I did end up with is the crazy creative writing teacher who likes to make up stories about hitchhiking and his misspent youth. My new journalism teacher is definitely a morning person, while the class definitely isn’t. The new choir teacher yells a lot, and I got stuck with a bunch of morons in American government.
The best parts of my day are journalism — because I have several friends in that class — and German. At least it stayed the same.
The first half of my day is mostly English classes.
Journalism is far too early. Starting at 7:22, and choir is way too different now that Mrs. Sanchez is gone; creative writing isn’t helping me; and college prep English is only fun when Mrs. Parent sings jazz scat to us.
Open campus lunches turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing.
Every day, I have to wait for Katie to meet me at the front doors. We speed over to a fast food place chosen during first period, get our food as quickly as possible, and speed back to school where we have about 10 minutes to eat in the band room.
If we don’t make it back in time, there is no eating in class.
After lunch, I head over to Mr. Hiegel’s American government class. I should have taken the class last year, because now I am the oldest person in it, and the only senior.
My last class of the day is German. I love that class.
Then I get on the bus and go home.
Why am I taking the bus? Because I’m not allowed to get my driver’s license until I get a job.
And even if I had a job and a license, I still couldn’t drive because someone vandalized my poor car and I can’t afford new tires.
Now why the “poor me” theme?
Because it will get better.
I had a small series of unfortunate events, but I’m sure things will start looking up soon.
As my friend Kaitlyn would say, “Stay posi, bro!”

Liane Harder is a Reporter for Youth Journalism International.

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