Four weeks. Out of the whole 676, I have four left. Twenty eight days, including weekends. Time is almost up completely and I am utterly clueless as to where the past 13 years of my life have gone. It is almost time for me and the rest of the 1997 babies to leave school and enter the Big Bad World and I don’t know if that concept has totally sunk in yet.
Four weeks left of 7 a.m. alarms, ties and blazers, schoolbags, packed lunches, period-bells and 50 minute classes. I am one of the first to embrace change but, realistically, even I do not know if I will be able to break this six-year habit, let alone change a daily routine which I have followed since the age of five. The responsibility of deciding when I need to get up, what train I need to catch to make it to lectures on time, even making a commitment as to how to live when flung into student life seems all the more daunting as the days pass. I talk a lot about growing up but now, really, I have four weeks left to become an adult.
I am not going to lie: it does get to the point where you need to get out. Sixth year is extremely tiring and four weeks seems light years away. However, if those four weeks pass as quickly as the last 13 years have, then it will be “Bye-Bye Braes” and “Hello, University” before I know it. That idea is terrifying.
I’ve concluded that school is a safety net for people like me who have the skills readily available to use in the outside world but just haven’t. School is always there as an escape; although it causes stress and drama, it gives you a place where you can get away from life and breathe. I hope university supplies the same feeling.
I stumbled across a quote that read: “One day, high school will end and life will go on.” I fear this day has come too quickly.