First off, I'm having to retype this because I had a stupid moment and accidentally clicked cancel (grrrr me).
I remember moving to Arab in fifth grade...and knowing NO ONE. I tried to keep to myself, but a unique group of people just wouldn't let me do that. I call these people my friends and classmates. Of course, this did make for at least one good moment. It was ninth grade, and we were in Mrs. Shipp's class. I don't remember what we were talking about, but Mallory made the comment that she had known me since kindergarten. Not missing a beat, Steven pipes up with a "just one problem: he hasn't been here that long!"
Sixth grade sent us to a new school, the second in two years for me. Lockers and having different people in each class...it was something.
Seventh grade was even better, we got to choose our classes, to some extent.
Oh, and eighth grade was tops. We ruled the school then.
Then came high school. Freshman year was as is to be expected. We were on the bottom, but that didn't stop us from having fun. Post-its all over Mrs. Wiggins's chair for one.
I remember how relieved we were to no longer be freshmen at the start of our sophomore year. It brought even more fun, like post-its all over Mrs. Brazelton's board.
Now we come to this past year, our junior year. Next to the seniors, we were at the top. I remember when Josh covered Mrs. Brazelton's room with...post-its...Wow...I think I'm seeing a pattern.
Nothing tops our junior year like lunchtime. No, it wasn't the food or the not being in class...it was our table. Me, Amos, Tyler, Josh, Jeff, Ashton, Justin...it was great. Everytime the freshman girls would scoot down a few seats, we were furious. Thus began a long series of push-wars which, as I recall, resulted in a victory for us.
Now we stand at the doorway of our senior year. That's it. One year. Ten months. 36 weeks. 180 days. After that, we may not see each other for ten years...maybe more.
For those of you who have been following my poems, you know who you are, I know I recently posted a poem that summed up this past year. I plan on penning another poem, much more comprehensive of my years in Arab. I think I'll omit my K-4th grade years from it because I've lost touch with all those people. My only true friends, now, are my Arabian ones.
I'll end with a few messages:
To the freshmen: I know you've probably heard this already, but you are on the bottom now. Don't worry too much because we've all been there. You'll be fine as long as you listen to the more seasoned classmen.
To the sophomores: Yes, that IS how you spell it. Learn it. We will make fun of you if you don't. It'll be like being a freshman all over again. Other than that, don't sweat it.
To the juniors: You're where we were last year. You've got some pretty big shoes to fill, you better get started. Don't do anything we wouldn't do. Otherwise, go for it!
To...well...us: Here we are. This is it. Our last year. Let's make it count. Let's go out with a bang!
*AMENDMENT* And to the newly graduated: I'm gonna miss you guys!
Drew, Drew-san, Drew-chan, Drewbie, Drewie, Larry, Lawri, Will, and whatever else you may choose to call me
P.S. If I forgot something, comment about it.
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