by Tyler Foster

Here we are, the year 2016, and against all odds for us seniors, we made it. We survived the fatal Y2K, when it was believed by some that computers would take over the world. I am reminded of this every year because my sister, Madison, happened to be born four days after the world was supposed to end.
Then the world survived the deadly 2012, whether you’re talking about the terrible film that received a 39-percent by Rotten Tomatoes, or the calendar event the ancient Mayans had once predicted around the 16th century. And somehow, after all the crazy things I have done, I sit in school watching the calendar fly by as we now are within three months to graduation.
I also have learned the hard way that even though it’s not recognized as a true disease or sickness, Senioritis is in fact, real. Symptoms may include: Short-term memory loss for remembering project due dates, the inability to do homework, procrastination levels at an all-time high, increased frustration and an overall sense of laziness.
It’s not so much that I have grown tired of the idea of school, or even the people I go to school with. It’s the simple fact that things are changing, times are changing. We go to school every day, yet we have the thought process in the back of our minds that it’s almost over.
As the year ends, it feels as if our entire lives up to this point have been compacted. Everything is happening so quickly. It seems like yesterday I walked onto the field to play my last football game of my life. I can still remember the 5-foot 11-inch me, the uncoordinated kid entering high school with no idea of what I wanted to be or who I really was.
This brings me back to reminisce upon the good times I have had: The elementary days of track and field — the only getaway from the whole “school idea.” Remembering the teachers who made us laugh and didn’t count us tardy, while holding grudges against those who decided homework was a good idea to give right at the bell. The long bus rides after games when “quick” McDonalds stops turned into the food olympics of “how much food can I possibly eat.” P.S. Thank you metabolism — Sincerely, high school boys.
I’ll even miss the long, brutal days of 7 a.m. summer football workouts, or harvest season at the co-op, which put dust production at an all-time high, sparking my allergies.
And this may seem a little premature, yet it’s crazy to think it’s almost over. The 14 years of my life I have spent expanding my education are about to be further continued, but just not in the same place.