High School, a Spoken Word Poem

I remember the sun peeking over the desert-like hill that sat just in front of my house while I waited for the bus in the mornings

The hill that was owned by the family of the boy that, by his presence alone, caused drama within my group of close friends

I remember walking off the bus and heading to the double doors of the school entrance

Only to be turned around by my best friend who just had to have her coffee, her white chocolate annihilator, almost every morning

I remember sitting on that bench in front of the auditorium with my friends after our return and waiting for that first bell to ring

So we could head off to our first period classes with yawns in our mouths and bags under our eyes because it was just too damn early

I remember a lot of things about these past few years of high school

Like the way the school changed after our spunky, charismatic principal left

And with him all of those awesome, sometimes awkward, hallway conversations that showed that he cared about the entire student body

Like the almost palpable feeling of joy that emerged from the entire class when that final bell would ring on a Friday

Like the classes that were so small at times that you could count the number of students in them on one hand

Like my constantly changing array of clubs that each met once a week

Like the hallways full of people that I can’t pretend I won’t miss

Even the ones that I wasn’t so fond of in that moment

Like all the drama that kept my life interesting, to say the least

Every phone call from a crying friend

Every lie that was spread

Every tear that I shed making my high school years memorable

And I know that when I walk off that stage with diploma in hand, there will be more tears making an appearance

Because as dramatic and incessantly busy as high school has been, I can’t say I won’t miss it

Miss the classes that I hated with the teachers that I loved

Miss the one-on-one talks with that one teacher that will forever be in my heart

Miss finding a freshman to claim as my “little freshie”

Miss choir, even though the music wasn’t always great and the dresses were remarkably ugly

Miss the Noise Parade and the other silly homecoming week traditions

I would even miss my class color

That hideous shade of orange that made every student from the class of 2017 look like a walking traffic cone on class color days

But most of all, I will miss its simplicity

How abstract things are while you still have time to imagine them, that is what I will miss the most