Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Not the Same

The last day. That was the thought going through everyone's minds, accompanied by a feeling of euphoria and celebration as well as nostalgia and sadness.

The teachers were especially courteous and looked on at the whole class with a hint of pride, one that I suspected we hadn't earned.

"It's the last day, yaar." said Jon, "Next year we'll be tenth graders and then college! Just think, we'll be past school!"

It was as if the whole 9th grade was reminiscing their childhood, reveling in their old carefree days and gradually accepting the new responsibilities and expectations that they were expected to live up to. Tears were being hastily wiped and contact information was shared between old chums.

We got the class photo around midday and then the photo signing began. Everyone signed everyone's photos, no closeness needed. I remember boldly proffering my photo at two guys I'd once spoken to once or twice during the whole year. We were smiling and congratulating each other as if we'd been best friends.

I looked at my whole set of friends, wishing that we'd be together the next year too. But classes were shuffled each year as bosom friends slowly turned to friendly acquaintances. It won't happen to us, I thought confidently, as I chased my two best friends, friends I'd acquired during my one-year stay at Little Angels School.

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