October 5, 1996 Saturday
At the present time I am seventeen years old, and my senior year is getting in full gear. I like all of my classes, and am making a definite effort to make the most of it. I feel more at ease this year. After all, what do I have to fear? I’m a senior, one of many Kills of the Hill. It sounds like I am gloating, but I simply feel I can be more relaxed and myself, now being one of the oldest at school. I feel this is simply a much more care-free year, at least in the way I look at other people (and perhaps how they view me). Trig is hard, but so was Algebra. The way I see it, something can only get so hard until you can’t tell the difference anymore. I thought I might be failing Trig after the first six weeks, but I’m surprisingly getting the same math grades I always have.
The teachers are planning a lot of trips for us to take. In English we’re going to Medieval Times in Schamburg, Illinois, a kind of hokey dinner theater at the end of the month that should be a blast. The day before this the Art and French students are going up to Chicago too, to see a Degas exhibit. The next month we are going to see a French play. The teachers, for their part, are weary about the 8-Block and how having a specific class only every other day will affect how much work we miss. But that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.
I have a lot less time to do things this year, like homework or being with family, mostly because of my job now at LG Seeds. But I also want to do a lot more things too. I have gone to all the home football games, and want to see all the basketball games here too. I don’t want to walk away from high school with any regrets.
The seniors are trying hard to set an example for the underclassmen. We won the Homecoming Spirit Week hands down, including 1st place with our float and also the Stunt Show skit.
This is all fine and well, but it leaves me to wonder what my life will be like in a year from now. Probably a lot of cramming and paying for being a freshman again. We’ll just have to see.
From the little pond,