As the year draws to a close, it’s probably highly appropriate that I make some confessions about my four years at this lovely learning facility. Obviously, I would never tell you about how I killed a man during my sophomore year finals, or how I will be taking Dr. Dohrer’s place next year (just kidding, I am Dr. Dohrer). But I can tell you the memorable tale of my high school experience. And by memorable I mean completely ordinary and somewhat pathetic.
It all started in my freshman year Geoscience class. Mr. Wurth was my teacher, but he wasn’t just any teacher; he was the kind of teacher that made you constellation pancakes and randomly brought you food. And anyone who randomly brings me food earns a special place in my heart.
But it was in this class that I discovered my completely uncontrollable and tear–inducing fear of snakes. I would have been ok with it had I not realized this fear by looking at a picture of a snake in the middle of class, which caused me to cry, and made everyone else basically think I had major issues. It was traumatic. That’s pretty much all I remember from freshman year, that and how the only thing I learned in Spanish was that “esposa” means wife, and that I never opened The Odyssey. Not once.
Sophomore year might as well not have happened because I literally remember nothing except for the fact that I had the biggest crush on this kid in my English class, and to this day I haven’t said a word to him. It was true love. But I’m pretty sure my brain is trying to block out some terrible experience I had sophomore year, because, aside from that kid, the only thing I remember is how my fear of snakes was still pretty bad and that my life revolved around the Sophomore Journal.
Junior year I hit some pretty serious milestones in life, like developing my first grey hair due to the endless hours I spent in ACT prep and realizing that I really just don’t like school or people in general. I did, however, have an excellent time writing my junior theme, because, unlike most people who decided to make their thesis about German politics in the 1920’s, I decided to write about psychedelic drugs and the 60’s. It was great.
And then came the infamous senior year, which contrary to popular belief, is actually not that easy. In fact, it was really hard, and there was a lot of work. I didn’t do any of it, but still, there was a lot. When it came time for college applications—being the very academically successful and exceptionally hard working student I am—I applied to not two, not three, but one college. I probably should have applied to a couple more, but I was too busy laughing at pictures of sloths on Tumblr.
Overall, my four years at New Trier were inarguably worthwhile, and although I cannot remember much of it, I’m sure the memories I’ll eventually recall will last a lifetime. But for now, I bid you farewell New Trier. See ya on the flipside.