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September 1, 2005

-- Journal --

Senior year: the promise vs. the reality

By Liane Harder

School. I really hate it. But on the bright side, itíll be done in a year. You see, Iím a senior!

Every time I think about that, I get a little grin.

At registration this year, I kept thinking this would be the best year ever Ė open campus privileges, our own parking lot, and prom at the end of the year.

Now, Iím not so sure.

My choir teacher quit and my journalism teacher isnít teaching journalism, so I didnít get the two teachers I felt closest to.

What I did end up with is the crazy creative writing teacher who likes to make up stories about hitchhiking and his misspent youth. My new journalism teacher is definitely a morning person, while the class definitely isnít. The new choir teacher yells a lot, and I got stuck with a bunch of morons in American government.

The best parts of my day are journalism -- because I have several friends in that class -- and German. At least it stayed the same.

The first half of my day is mostly English classes.

Journalism is far too early. Starting at 7:22, and choir is way too different now that Mrs. Sanchez is gone; creative writing isnít helping me; and college prep English is only fun when Mrs. Parent sings jazz scat to us.

Open campus lunches turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing.

Every day, I have to wait for Katie to meet me at the front doors. We speed over to a fast food place chosen during first period, get our food as quickly as possible, and speed back to school where we have about 10 minutes to eat in the band room.

If we donít make it back in time, there is no eating in class.

After lunch, I head over to Mr. Hiegelís American government class. I should have taken the class last year, because now I am the oldest person in it, and the only senior.

My last class of the day is German. I love that class.

Then I get on the bus and go home.

Why am I taking the bus? Because Iím not allowed to get my driverís license until I get a job.

And even if I had a job and a license, I still couldnít drive because someone vandalized my poor car and I canít afford new tires.

Now why the ďpoor meĒ theme?

Because it will get better.

I had a small series of unfortunate events, but Iím sure things will start looking up soon.

As my friend Kaitlyn would say, ďStay posi, bro!Ē


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