Everywhere I look there’s a countdown.
I refresh my Twitter feed and I see “13 days.” I check Instagram and see a #tbt to the first day of school. Facebook is full of albums entitled “the beginning of the end.”
Internships are inching closer.
The rest of the school is already celebrating. Juniors ready to be the oldest in the school and every other grade looking ahead to the next school year. Teachers ready to get rid of the seniors sitting in the back of the class who haven’t brought a binder to school since first semester. And then there’s the senior class, collectively awaiting their release into the work force, suffering the side effects of the senioritis that has infected them since they got into college back in December.
The rumors about internship have been flooding the halls since my freshman year. I watched my brother and his friends leave the halls of Staples to excitedly attend individual internships. From my brother in the kitchen of the Dressing Room to his best friend who worked the grounds of Longshore, I anticipated that last glorious month of senior year when I would be quasi-released from school, not yet graduated but still given additional freedoms.
And according to the omnipresent countdowns, it’s almost here.
I scoured the list of almost 100 opportunities; went in to meet with Ms. Saveliff and discussed my options. I’ve exchanged ideas and advice with all my friends on where to go. I’ve tried coordinating internships, hearing about other people’s experiences, and everything else I could think of.
I’ll definitely miss walking the halls of Staples, getting yelled at in the library during free, and chanting the always obnoxious “senior girls” chant at sporting events. For my internship, I’ll still be with two of my friends. We’ll be doing administrative work and social media. They say high school is supposed to prepare you for the real world and subsequently, college. I guess we’ll find out on Monday.
