One Final Hurrah

Essay by emly_jneCollege, UndergraduateA, June 2009

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We had been waiting for this day the whole year, counting down the months then weeks; the last day of school. All the finals and tests had passed and it was only one more day until sweet, glorious summer. As an added bonus, it was a minimum day. The majority of the student body took it upon themselves to skip the last day as usual, deeming it unworthy of their attendance, but not me. I saw this final short day as an opportunity to squeeze in some last minute fun with my friends and favorite teachers.

It started just as monotonous as the other school days: get up, get dressed, eat, pick up Sarah, etc; but with one lovely difference, no backpack. So, I arrived in my first period class, Wood Sculpting, to the odd sight of a nearly empty shop. There were five of us at most and the duration of the period was spent cleaning out shop lockers, throwing half finished projects in a soon-to-be-bonfire pile, and stick fighting.

Another bonus: all these activities earned me extra credit.

On to second period, Spanish 2, where I thought I was going to thoroughly enjoy myself due to a hilarious group of friends and a laid-back teacher. To my disheartenment, I discovered that most of them had blown off the last day, too. However, my best friend, Sarah, was present, of course, so I wasn’t troubled for very long. Students started to pour into the small Spanish class before the bell even rang; the teachers’ reputation of having an easy going demeanor was known by the whole school. As the classroom kept filling with the same type of rambunctious, ner’do-wells, my friend and I decided to make our departure. On the last day of school, teachers and administration alike look the other way when it comes to students roaming the halls or scheduled class attendance. So, the halls were inevitably filled with wandering students, and my best friend and I took to the halls instead of our Spanish class. This time was spent walking around in the crisp air, popping in on old teachers, and chatting it up with each other.

As third period rolled around Sarah and I were getting a bit tired of walking around and decided to check in on our scheduled classes and take a break to regain our energy; we concluded that my third period, Algebra 2, was a prime choice. The classroom was as empty as a library during Spring Break; we were literally the only two people in there.

When the bell rang to signal the shift to fourth period, Sarah and d I shook the post-nap weariness out of us and headed out. We proceeded to check into our classes and concluded that neither one was suitable to stay in. Her fourth period, Earth Science, was near empty and mine, AP English, was much too crowded with the kids we don’t particularly enjoy. So, like Goldilocks, we found the just-right locale: the halls. Once again, we wandered, but, with some excitement this time. All throughout the day there had been talks and whispers of water balloon fights and, well, they proved to be true. While strolling along we noticed people trying to sneak little water grenades past the patrolling administration like petty thieves in a 7-11. Most prevailed and water fights ensued sporadically in the halls. The majority of our fourth period was spent dashing to avoid the shrapnel of watery missiles and making sure we didn’t get caught in the crossfire of these soggy brawls.

By the time lunch arrived, we were exhausted, but victoriously dry. We broke out our Power Bars and water, the typical lunch of choice due to the recent cockroach infestation at the school cafeteria, and headed on our usual path. We visited friends and signed the recently handed out yearbooks all lunch, and even managed to avoid a couple of other water balloon battles. We also discovered the urge to lie out on the empty tables on the hill, under the incredibly shady trees because we were starting to get tired of walking around again. After about 15 minutes of staring at the vibrant, green leaves above, Sarah and I decided to take advantage of our last day of school and do something we have always wanted to do; slide down the stair railing. I forced Sarah to go first due to my fear of falling off and she bravely accepted the challenge. She decided to approach the rail from the side and go side-saddle because she was wearing a skirt and didn’t want to pull a Paris Hilton. She didn’t do so well. The railing wasn’t slick enough and had too many kinks and transitions for any slide attempt to work. Sadly, we were forced to give up our mission.

Lunch was over before we knew it and it was time for our favorite class together, AP United States History. We entered the room and, to our dismay, discovered another barren classroom. Being exhausted from attempted rail riding, Sarah wanted to take another break. I was getting tired of just sitting in the stiff wooden desks and proceeded to improvise with makeshift beds; I dragged together a bunch of tables and used my backpack as a pillow. When Burnsey, our pet name for the teacher, walked in, he laughed and remarked that he was going to miss our crazy antics. During fifth period, a few students sporadically wandered in and out but it was a relaxing class nonetheless.

As the day drew to a close and six period stumbled around, we were surprisingly energized. I suspect this burst of energy came from our recent naps and breaks. We checked in with our classes and popped in on Burnsey once again. When we entered his class we noticed a rolling office chair by the door. It was maimed and was missing the back support part of the chair, so basically it was a rolling stool. That’s when a light bulb went off in Sarah’s head; we were going to “borrow” the chair for a while. When Burnsey decided to exit the class to check on something in the back, we made our escape, office chair in tow. Sarah hopped on and I proceeded to push her along the school. We acquired many a stare and laugh as we dashed past classrooms and roaming students. By some miracle we even managed to roll by a teacher without question of our actions. We switched spots and Sarah pushed me along, almost slamming me into the wall, and when we arrived at the handicap ramp portion of the stairs, another light bulb went off, but this time it was mine. I made Sarah sit on the chair at the start of this pseudo-roller coaster and took a running start. She didn’t go as fast as I expected, but nonetheless she rolled down that ramp like a greased wheel of cheese on a slip-n-slide. Luckily, the walls were avoided on this 6 foot wide ramp, and her dismount was flawless. After this, she rolled back up the ramp and I took my turn. Somehow, I hit the wall, but, fortunately, Sarah didn’t push me hard enough to make the impact nothing more than an irksome bump on the ghetto amusement park ride. We slyly wheeled ourselves back to Burnsey’s and, while I held the door open from behind, Sarah shoved the chair in. We sprinted off while stifling our laughter at the image of a random chair rolling in on an unsuspecting classroom.

The final bell rang, and the day came to an end at last. Students rushed off the campus like wildebeest being chased by a ravenous lion. Sarah and I calmly made our way to the pick up point for my mom and made sure to soak up the last bit of the day on the way. As we shut the doors on the car and my mom pulled away from the crumbling curb, I sighed. It had been a great final day, our last hurrah for the school year.