Nineteen Days: A Senior Reflection by Riley Clarke

I won’t be the first to say my first two years here at Coventry High School were weird, to say the least. From not stepping foot into school until October in freshman year to being accidentally contact-traced in sophomore year, those first two years barely feel real. It feels more like I’ve been here for two years, rather than four. Which is why this article is so hard to write, how can it be my senior year? I just got here. 

Nineteen days. That’s how many days left in my senior year, as I sit here typing away in math class instead of working on missing assignments. You can judge me for that later, but this was a little too important to forget about. It seems crazy to put four years into nineteen days, but here I am, doing so. I won’t be the first to say my first two years here at Coventry High School were weird, to say the least. From not stepping foot into school until October in freshman year to being accidentally contact-traced in sophomore year, those first two years barely feel real. It feels more like I’ve been here for two years, rather than four. Which is why this article is so hard to write, how can it be my senior year? I just got here. 

I remember being eight years old and being told that the reason there was a 24 in my brand new email address was because I was going to graduate in 2024, ten years from then. It seemed so far away at the time, but I couldn’t wait. All I could think about was when I would graduate and go to college in another state or even country. New York, California, London, Paris. Nothing was off limits to eight year old me. I wanted to be an artist, a ballerina, a princess, a cupcake baker. I was filled with big ambition and even bigger dreams. It’s almost to see how much hasn’t changed. Coventry had felt too small for me at eight years old and at eighteen, it can be almost suffocating at times. I found it hard to express myself and my ideas without the fear of being judged. I changed the things I wanted to be. Doctor, lawyer, scientist, more “serious” jobs. 

My dreams had stayed big but had a hint of realism mixed into them, I’m a lot more practical than I ever was. 

It was that practicality that defined most of my high school career. All my goals were no longer about myself and my dreams weren’t about making myself happy, they had become about making other people proud. I applied to colleges with high acceptance rates because I knew they would accept me and I feared the rejection. I picked a major that didn’t interest me because I thought it would make my family proud of me. Almost every decision I have made in the last four years hasn’t been for me, it’s been for someone else. Except for one.

I joined The Entry on a whim in my junior year. I was supposed to join with a friend, but when she bailed on me, I pushed down all of my feelings and anxieties and went to the first meeting. I’ve loved writing most of my life, I’d probably even consider writing to be one of my big loves, but I didn’t even know how much this decision would affect me. It gave me an outlet to write, even if no one read it. I can’t thank this club enough for what it has given me. So thank you to Mrs. Boyle and Mr. Gomes for giving me the opportunity to express myself. 

I don’t know what will happen after graduation. And for once in my life, not knowing doesn’t scare me. Eight year old me would probably be having a meltdown right about now if she heard that, but it’s true. I’m not going off to college in a far off land or marrying a prince and moving into his castle, as she thought I would be, but I’m happy about where I am. I have learned countless lessons that I hope the classes after me will learn.

You don’t need to know everything at 14, 16, 18; it’ll be okay, you’re still a kid. 

That argument you’re having with the person you call your best friend right now? It won’t matter in five years because you might not even be friends with them then. 

Happiness doesn’t always mean having the best grades and doing all the clubs. Happiness can be getting excited because you’re going over a topic in history class that you’re excited about or culinary being the best part of your day 75% of the time. 

Don’t try so hard. That’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned and the hardest. Not everyone will like you and that’s okay. You don’t have to try so hard, just be yourself and someone is bound to think you’re pretty cool just for that. 

Those lessons can be a hard pill to swallow, take it from me, but the quicker you learn them, the better.

I’m scared as I hit submit on the article, still typing my final words. Nothing has changed from the start of this article to the end. I’m still summing up my high school experience in three pages (and that wasn’t even half of it) and there’s still nineteen days left until I graduate. 

Wow, nineteen days. That’s insane, isn’t it?