Graduation feels like some turning point, a moment built up from the second you stepped foot into elementary school, preparing yourself for the inevitable end of your school career. It’s representative of success, with the expectation that you will magically know how to exist in a world that is completely different than everything you’ve ever experienced. For the first time, you realize that no one was taught how to be a person, instead taught how to calculate percentages and the cell cycle. No one knows how to file taxes, or what to do when you want to own a house. 

As time passes, college suddenly becomes summer plans, and your paychecks become textbooks or registration fees. You begin to buy the lasts, the last shampoo you’ll use before moving into a dorm, the last candle to burn in your room, and the last book to leave on your shelf. In all of the excitement, the doubt sets in, a crowd of what-ifs replacing every fond thought of the future.  

Graduation has become the mental end-all-be-all of school, but in reality, it is the beginning of learning to be someone. As cliche as it sounds, I feel like I’m on the edge of a diving board, waiting to either dive or step down. If I dive, will I land perfectly, or will I fail? Will the water drown me, or will I float, barely breathing above the surface of the water? I don’t even know if I can swim. But diving may be worth it.

*Karleigh and Margie are graduating seniors at BC ECHS