Dear senior walkout,

On Friday I witnessed a fantastic ritual.  I've been volunteering in a local high school for the last year (and will be working there next year!) and Friday was the last day of class for the seniors.  I've been an intern in an incredible theater class and the last day for seniors is, by tradition, a potluck and a chance for everyone to share their thoughts and reflections about the seniors.  It was great because I think it was maybe the only chance, outside of yearbooks, for high school seniors to be acknowledged individually for how they have made their mark or grown during their four years.  (When it comes to college, I think there was actually a lot of time for that which has everything to do with size and majors and departments and everything.)  Jan, the teacher, says, "Remember this space, you won't ever be in a space like this ever again... Hug everyone on the way out."  Some students had shed some tears during the reflections, but once the students were actually upon the moment of saying goodbye, many of them turned to tears.  That classroom was an incredible place, unlike anything else they experience in the rest of the school. 

And then quarter to two, Jan is making her final remarks and we start to hear rumbling above us (the classroom is in the basement).  In the weeks leading up to this day, I heard vague mentions of this tradition called the walkout.  Finally I asked, what is this walkout thing? Jan explained, the walkout takes place when the last bell rings on the last day of classes for the seniors; they all pour out of the building and parents and friends are waiting for them at the bottom.  It's urban America, it is a great achievement to graduate high school and there are many of them for whom this will be the last graduation and indeed their last day of school.  The aforementioned rumbling was seniors preparing to bust out the doors for the last time.

I hurried outside with a few other interns to get ready for the seniors' arrival.  The front of the school has a huge staircase, probably thirty feet tall.  There is a DJ at the bottom, some parents have balloons and everyone has a camera.  Soon we can hear chanting from the doors above, "One two, one two!" The anticipation was so exciting and I had no idea what to expect when the clock hit two.  The bell rings, the music starts, and the first dozen students burst out of the building, throwing a pile of papers up into the air so it's raining someone's trigonometry notes.  It felt like a scene from a high school movie.  So I just stand there as the entire senior class parades out of the building and when they reach the bottom there are hugs and handshakes and lots of squealing.  It was a beautiful thing to see.  Everyone left the building together and with some semblance of dignity.  Most of all Not at all like my last day of high school because I don't think I can remember much about that day.  And not at all like my goodbyes in college.  They're ready, and it's not that all of them know what comes next, but there's a hope that comes with this graduation and a rooting in home that doesn't exist in the same way with college.  Particularly because I went out of state for school.  I graduated three weeks ago and I feel uprooted in almost every way. 

It was just a beautiful tradition and great to see kids be proud of their last moments in high school rather than resentful or disappointed.  (I think that's a lot of what I remember about my last days of high school.  A lot of "thank god we don't have to do this anymore" from the people around me.)

In my own life I've taken a pretty direct turn from ritual, which was definitely a huge part of the previous month or so, and I'm headed into routine.  I must simultaneously break old routines and establish new ones.  I haven't established my new routine yet, but I'm learning new places and times and how they fit into the space I already know.  (For instance, I've been unpacking and organizing my new apartment, but I've had Sports Night on in the background.  Sports Night is the perfect background packing entertainment for me because I've seen it enough that I don't really have to pay attention, but when we get to a part I really enjoy it's satisfying.  It is also the packing background I used when unpacking at the last place.)  Working a full day is hard.  And so different from the student schedule I've maintained for the last four years.   My bike path is only partially altered.  I am continually reminded about how little I know about the cities I frequent.  I try and push my radius and familiarity with the area a little bit every day.

I don't know how it's going.  I (like to) think that the weepy phase of post-graduation has passed.  If I ever need to get back into that mindset, all I need to do is listen to the Head and the Heart's "Rivers and Roads," it hits the right spot every time.  I (maybe) have entered into the disappointment phase where I try and balance how much things have changed with how much they haven't.  I got all geared up for this? But this isn't really all that different... What do I want to be the same? What do I want to be different?


love,
hannah