These last weeks are by far not the culmination of my high school career—we still have homework, why?—but they are significant nonetheless. The weight of impending graduation and departure is hefty, and contributes to my admittedly-preemptive nostalgia; I find myself frequently teary-eyed about the sudden appearance of many lasts. Last run in Dark Park, last fill-in-the-blank for Mr. Ippolito, last maybe-slightly illegal left turn from Doherty. I miss things and people already, and although our high school years may not have been halcyonic, when we’re about to leave it sure does seem like they were. But the finite nature of this time engenders an auspicious view of high school, perhaps unjustifiably so. I’m fully aware that rose-colored graduation glasses are on. I love everyone a little more, and I even think I’ll miss my younger brother (we’ll see).

But—and it’s a BIG but—high school is by no means a perfectly idyllic experience. Sh*t happens. Favoring the “bests” of high school gives rise to the kind of suffocating sentimentality that has the tendency to gloss over not only the “worsts” (i.e. precalculus) but also the “mediocres.”

I’m not hoping that sh*tty stuff monopolizes my memories, but it does play a role in how high school has shaped the person I am. The actualities of high school have taught me more than any purported epitomization of it have (looking at you, prom).

We’re told to soak it all in, and though this adage may fall on deaf ears the majority of the time, an emphasis on “all” is warranted. Witnessing and perpetrating pettiness has taught me to be bigger; running myself into the ground for finals has taught me to know myself better than to do that again (probably); enduring devastating loss has taught me to appreciate the people I have. Those experiences aren’t worth repeating, but nevertheless their intrinsic value is inestimable.

Soaking it all in doesn’t have to be exclusive to the highlight reel, because the adversities I’ve faced have imprinted in me, giving us strength to cope, to grow and to learn myself. Still working on my hand-eye coordination though.

It’s inevitable, and appropriate, that reminiscing centers on the bests. And I’m not saying highschool baggage should follow us, because it shouldn’t (I’m never taking a math class again). This four-year span has also been shaped by the most genuine friends, inspiring coaches and teachers, and a sense of pride: we did high school! Revel in the thrills and hurrahs; the bests will embody high school with care and fondness. But also know your growth, and take pride in every bit of all that we’ve seen and done.