By Alexa Sy, Year 13
Sometimes I surprise myself.
Far from the familiar elation that the end of the school year usually brings, my mood last June was unexpected and my sense of humor is still nowhere to be found. With less than two weeks until the close of the academic year, I found myself overridden with a surprising sense of melancholy. The aftermath of many months of revision and two seemingly endless weeks of exams was celebrated with two birthdays and a boodle, followed by a star studded evening made for us crazy fools who dream. However, despite my best efforts to settle into a summer holiday frame-of-mind, the exhaustion that came with constantly having to look forward uninvitingly decided to linger a bit longer, and, ready or not, I knew that the first of my many lasts had already begun.
Reflection was necessary. Soon, I realized that the past 13 summers were my reasons for all this unease. Every single one has seen me leave and return to the only school I have ever known; and while this August was no different, it was clear that this would be the last time during my student life that I was returning to my second home. As that idea set in, I was reminded of a favourite quote: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” Whether it was Dr. Seuss or Gabriel García Márquez who first penned these words, I repeat them to myself now as if they were my own. In my last year of high school, I will refuse to only look forward, as the college-bound tend to do, and make a conscious choice to enjoy the here and now.
This year, although there will be deeper, darker IB demons to face, there is also
more cornflake chicken, quesadillas, and blue schlurp to be had, and, with some good luck, a few more Quizlet sessions and Kahoot dance parties to be enjoyed. I will return to Mr. Cliff’s wonderful smelling classroom, with its wall of history memes, and soak up that scent that comforts and satisfies in the same way as when you press down on bubble wrap or hit a tennis ball dead center in the middle of your racket. I shall rant to Ms. Johnson and know that she won’t hold it against me, and poke fun at Mr. Bowen who most likely will.
I will dine with my family, the familiar faces whom I have sat with forever and watch in astonishment (and envy) as Mica consumes more rice than her small frame lets on. I will laugh as Max bursts into song (#yabang #gwapo) , and smile when Ian takes the time to help us struggling psychology students grapple with Ms. Seed’s newest lesson. I will cherish the witty banter with my little friend.
As I walk through the corridors, past the nipa huts and make my way up to the common room, I will take note and remember all the faces I see along the way. I will hear the leaves blow in the wind and feel the cool air escaping from the clusters with the warm air pressing right up against it. And although I may still cry when it’s over, I promise to smile as it all unfolds.
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