By: Monica D.
When I walked into Duxbury High School for the first time my freshman year I was a fourteen year old ready to just roll with the punches. I had my brother to protect me, and never further than a three minute walk down the hall. I had a group of friends that had stuck by me for years and I was satisfied with what life had handed me. Then I realized how gross a word satisfied was, it slowly became the equivalent of good enough, settling.
Fast forward two years and I was officially sick of being statuesque. My freshman and sophomore year had come and gone, yet I still felt the same. The same routine, same conversations, and same bored, satisfied feeling. I am not sure what happened next; I like to call it my mid life crisis of high school. I was officially half way done, and I had not done anything daring or really worth mentioning. So I went in to audition for West Side Story the musical. I was a wreck. I was shaking and pacing, but I actually got through it. I got cast in the ensemble and met three of my best friends. My mid high school crisis was solved, and I was pushing myself into new fields. In three short months I got inducted into the Drama Club‘s International Thespian Society.
Now, as a senior, I’ve been in two plays, a musical, and am now directing, alongside one of my best friends, the final play performed in the Good Knight Theatre at Duxbury High School. Senior year has been incredible, and as a grade we’ve all grown so close. From Senior Class Plays to Senior Night Out, we are all so different from how we were as those prepubescent fourteen year olds. We finally all acknowledged that middle school was horrible and that holding onto those versions of ourselves was just holding us back from what we could be. Styles have adopted, friend groups have merged and shifted, and new students have entered our grade and have been accepted in. We are a pretty welcoming grade, and that’s just who we are. We are the class that, as freshman, Greer Cully said in her graduation speech that it was them, the seniors, who were more intimidated of us then we were of them.
We are the class that sold out a load of fan buses to the Garden, that literally rocked the boat at Senior Night Out. We’ve had our fights, our Twitter drama, but above all, I see all of you as a support system.
The past four years, as class president, I’ve been preparing to write a speech for graduation. Freshman year I completed it, but by the end of sophomore year it was no longer good enough. I wrote it again, but my life was completely different by the end of junior year. When senior year came, I stopped trying. I chalked it up to Senioritis and wanting to get to college as fast as possible. As the year progressed and I saw my last football game under the lights, the last games at the Garden, I finally realized that my prolonging of the rewriting of my speech was because I was afraid of it all coming to an end. Writing my speech this time meant the final draft, that would be it. How do I do that, how do I jam eighteen years of memories with the two hundred and sixteen of you into one three minute speech? It is scary, and things certainly have changed since my first draft freshman year.
The class I described four years ago is not the unified class that will stand together in green and white on graduation day. As my girl Taylor Swift put it, “Long live all the mountains we moved. I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. And long live the look on your face and bring on all the pretenders. One day, we will be remembered.” We are the class that learned change can always improve who it is we are. We have truly evolved from those awkward North Face-Ugg wearing teens into that proud band of thieves in ripped up jeans that learned to rule the world.