That first year was the hardest. The long time friends felt somewhat distant and he had some trouble adjusting. He enjoyed the freedom and liked that no one was on his back, but the freedom came at an expense. The worst part of his day was the time spent in between; the feeling of being stuck in a place with no escape. You see, the boy only knew how to work hard. He spent most of his time studying for the next test or doing that nights homework. It was difficult at first, but the pulse of the school was robust and secular; every freshmen was more fodder for the fire.
The second year came much easier. The food chain had grown and he had escaped the worst of construction. The old school was decapitated and something new was beginning to form. The ghosts of years past manifested in other far away places now; the new building seemed to breath new air into the lungs of those who weren't smoking butts in the porta crapper. He seemed to relax more this year, albeit keeping the rigid focus on sports and academics. His relationships with friends began to grow, yet he didn't really have a crowd to call his own. He didn't really feel comfortable hanging out with the jocks in his class; they were pretenders (at the time) and didn't respect the game the way he did (and still does). They wanted the glory without the work and this has remained true up to this day (another post). Anyway, he was apart of something that he will never forget and he loved every second of it. Schooling was something that was hard for him this year. He had never been more responsible for his own learning habits. He was gaining his independence. The influence of others was starting to loose its zeal.
The third year was the year of great change. He remained in all the activities he was in from years past, and then joined more. The music that he exposed himself to allowed him to grow more than he could ever imagine. The music gave him another way to express himself while being apart of something bigger than just one person. These days are much longer he often thought. Indeed, he was correct. The time spent in practice followed by rehearsal was undoubtably draining, but worth the expended energy. Similar to the music and sports, he continued to study without stop. The school work only seemed to get harder and more confusing. He often swore at his chemistry book and through it across the room, all the while taking notes with his left hand and playing the harmonica with his toes. The third year also gave him more friend than he could ever imagine. Many late night pizza-fueled hangouts were had. He learned more about Smash Bros and Mario Cart in those days. Oh! He almost forgot; he now had his license. He had more freedom than he ever had before. The days of home equating to a prison were over. He could leave/go/escape wherever he wanted (within reason) and he did.
The fourth year presented more challenges than the boy had ever faced in his life. By this time, the boy was more like a man; he had experienced a myriad of convoluted issues that pried at his inner self. The decisions he made during this year were so important to his future; he can only guess at the next phase of his life. He had never been more scared and ready to feel what he should feel. Again, he maintained the activities he had done for the past three years and somehow managed to add more to the plate. School seemed less difficult than before. His Damn, these math classes actually mean something attitude seemed to inspire him to apply himself more in that department instead of complaining about it in his english papers. He pushed himself, and hopefully he worked hard enough to excel in the real world.
We shall see.
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