If there’s one thing I was looking forward to about going back to school this year, it was the fact that I am now, after two years of apprehensively waiting, one of the upper-classmen. There are several immediate responsibilities that come with this prestigious title, some of which include taking the dreaded ACT and signing up for the many AP classes that your parents are forcing you to take.
Yet there is another important expectation in the fine print of the “Remastered GBS Handbook,” written by cruelty itself: make the freshmen feel unwelcome and insignificant.
Now freshmen, as this letter is intended for you, don’t freak out quite yet. This here is the loophole for that fine print, written in Webdings so that you first-years in particular cannot read it. So grab one of your new, preferably purple, color-coded notebooks (since you have to be perfectly organized as a newbie, yeah?), and pay close attention to the following lines that could very well be your golden ticket for survival in these upcoming years.
Coming from the awkward swamp of unkind little children that was middle school, it is naturally expected that you will bring some of that immaturity with you. But I should inform you if you were unsure: being named “Student of the Month” back in seventh grade or having obtained a one-of-a-kind Social Studies pencil for your outstanding achievements on the World War II test is not going to propel you to the top of the social hierarchy.
But if the social aspect of high school is what you’re most worried about, try being more laid back and relaxed, without trying to play the “I’m too cool to apply myself” card. South needs more students like that in the midst of the competitive arena that is our school.
And this isn’t the Hunger Games type of arena where you get blown off your platform for starting too early (although, now that I think of it, don’t be the person who makes the sad mistake of coming to school at 8 a.m. on a late arrival). South is an academically combative environment, so always try your best.
That might sound a little too cliché, but put in your headphones when anyone tells you that it isn’t “cool” to study, or that applying yourself and being a “try-hard” is a bad thing. Not to scare you, but when you’re looking at colleges four years from now, you don’t want to look back and be the person who says, “I wish I tried harder.”
From my experience, it is difficult to get out of bed some mornings when you replay the same daily school routine. Break up the monotony of the seven hour day by involving yourself in a club, sport, or hobby of interest. More specifically, join the Oracle staff—it will be the best decision you’ve ever made.
But even more than staying on top of your schoolwork and finding your passion, something that you need to promptly perfect is hallway etiquette. On the first day of school, during those beloved get-to-know-you icebreakers that eat away class time, a good 70 percent of the class says that their biggest pet peeve is slow walkers in the link.
In fact, one could write an entire handbook on link/pit passing period rules alone, some of which include outlawing the use of roller backpacks (but seriously kindergartener in a high schooler’s body, why do that to yourself?), fining students who neglect to hold open the 200-pound link doors for others and taking away shoe-wearing privileges of kids who step on the backs of other students’ shoes, especially Converse.
And if there is one thing our school does really well, it’s blowing out your eardrums as Dr. Shellard and Pep Club chant the fight song over your first period’s intercom. Although no one ever obeys the suggestions to “open the doors” and “open the windows,” don’t let this fool you. Still try to immerse yourself in as much blue and gold as you possibly can—there’s nothing worse than the horrified glares you will receive if you forget to wear those colors every Friday.
I have one last suggestion that could perhaps be the most important. Take note, freshmen: these upcoming four years will pass by you too quickly. You’re going to discover your strengths, your true friends and a little less foggy indication of where you’re headed in life.
When you’re staying up past midnight persevering through those gruesome nights of studying, sure you can complain about the difficulty of this situation, but don’t proceed to wish away your time in high school. In my third year here, I think to myself constantly, “Do I seriously have only one year left?”
Because it’s the formidable truth: we won’t be young forever, and you rookies especially need not seize every moment during your time here at South, but rather allow each moment to seize you.
