I would like to say that I am very fondly reminiscent of my high school career. I would like to say that I was overwhelmed with sentimental values and waves of nostalgia when I pulled out of the parking lot one last time. I would even like to believe that my high school experience changed my life. But really, when I sit back and think over the past four years, I can't truthfully say any of the above statements with conviction. I'm not saying that on the day of graduation, when I finally take my diploma in hand and say goodbye to people I've known for years, that I won't cry, because I certainly will. However, I am saying that I'm not sure what sort of tears they'll be— sad? Relieved? Maybe a mix.
I did drastically change over the course of high school. I remember my defining moments, but none of them can be molded to fit into a two-semester school year. I cannot say I was like such-and-such in 9th grade, had a major epiphany in 10th grade, and so on. I cannot say any of my teachers changed my outlook on life. The way my change from childhood to almost-adulthood can be categorized is by the people I knew and my relationships with them, along with my relationship with God. And those relationships, those experiences, were not broken by class periods or grade levels. They expand over the course of time, into the summer months, and even past this physical reality of time to the point where I couldn't pinpoint specific moments. This is probably why I am not sentimental— the people that impacted my life were not solely at West Johnston High School, and the majority of them were adults, already long out of school.
If I had to map it out, it would go a little something like this... :
Freshman year— I meet Erin Lineberger in creative writing and got my first "real friend." She was a true kindred spirit to me, and we wrote letters back and forth like crazy, pouring out our 14-year-old hearts in pink and blue ink, her with her neat typewriter print and me with scrawling cursive. She was the Christian friend I had prayed for. It was Erin who pushed me to become a better student and to care about my grades, to be organized and definite, because Erin was smart (f.y.i.: she's now our class valedictorian with the Parks scholarship under her belt!). After meeting Erin I realized I wanted to be successful and "the best", so to speak, both in school and in my relationship with the Lord. I really became ambitious and I realized that close friends, like her, were hard to find. I also became friends with Heather Stevens... haha, oh Heather. We would sit in Dobyns class and share my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches until he smelt the peanut butter and scolded us for eating in his room. She taught me how to laugh and be silly and kept me in childhood a little bit longer. I discovered that I had a sense of humor (imagine that) and that if I worked it around a little, I could make people laugh. At this point it was always at my own expense, but that was okay with me. I wanted people to like me, and as my looks were no attraction I made up for it with brains and self-degradation for others to enjoy.
That summer was long. I met Nathan Kuhn and had my first little "wow-I-think-you're-amazing-and-attractive" crush that awakened me to what it was to really like someone and get your heart broken in the end. That summer I realized I wanted to be mature. I wanted people to think that I was above the average level of 14-almost-15 year old maturity... heck, I wanted to act like I was already 16, because that's how old he was! If I could only be older, I thought, maybe I would "find myself", whatever that meant, and someone would notice me. Maybe if I grew up a little faster, my relationship with God would grow because He would find me responsible, and maybe the kids at youth group would accept me and He would reveal things to me because I'd be ready.
When I was 15, in 10th grade, things get a little fuzzy scholastically. I didn't have a close group of friends that year at school, and I didn't have class with either Erin or Heather. When I don't have people to associate memories with, I can't remember what happened. I stayed under the radar at school and worked at being smart; people probably thought I went around with my nose in the air, and I probably, unfortunately, did. However, church was beginning to really reel me in and I was meeting people left and right. I met Chris and thought I was cool to have a boyfriend, but really all that was happening is that I was still trying to be older. I wanted to be affectionate towards someone, and for a little while I was, but when it [quickly] died I realized I never wanted to have a boyfriend in high school. I was drowning with classes and Bible studies and a job and I did not need some boy to walk over me and not care. That's when I got my first taste of independence, and the feeling of "no one can do it better than me." I was going to be strong and I didn't need anyone but myself— no boy and apparently no friend. Enter pride [who unfortunately never really exits].
But then I met Mrs Phyllis, who gave me a job working at her store, Dress To Impress. I carpooled with her every Saturday, a two hour drive to Greenville, and worked 12 hours. But those car rides changed my life. They changed my perspectives and taught me lessons and kindled my curiosity to burn like it does today. I have never talked and examined and questioned and cried so much with someone talking about cats or husbands or travel or the other girls I worked with or about life, really. About God, mostly. That is when I truly learned compassion. Mrs Phyllis was my friend. She may have been thirty years older than me, but she was my friend. Again, I tried to be older, more mature. After you've separated yourself from high school friendships, you don't want them. That probably sounds bad and proud, but in all honesty, you begin to look down on them. I didn't want just anyone for a friend and I chose who I became close to carefully.
Until Summer of '07... for which there are no words. In youth, I was inseparable from Joe and Ashlin and Amanda Boyle and Britt and Lorren and Rachel Partridge. That summer I had friends. People I shared my life with and burned to know and understand, people I loved as close as my family, people I wanted as friends for, well, forever. That summer I couldn't call myself Kristina Weeks. I called myself K Weeks, Special K, or "yo, Kristina!" That summer childhood clashed with adulthood and it hurt. It hurt terribly and I fought with it and didn't understand it and I wanted to be older so bad that I forgot who I was so that these people would trust me and rely on me. That summer I began "fixing"... trying to. What did I know? I was still childish and this is proven in my yearning for age and its wisdom. That summer I had inside jokes galore and things to do and people to do them with... at church, I was known. And I don't say that in a haughty way, but everyone knew me and the people I was with. I was so egotistical and yet, underneath it all, who I thought I was was crumbling away. I was trying to conform to what was around me and trying to answer questions that I had no answers to and I was helpless; yet at the same time I was so happy with what I had. This was the climax of my adolescent identity crisis.
Junior Year, finally 16. Joe Roy and I were best friends. Suddenly I was funny and sarcastic and maybe, perhaps, a little shallow [I am NOT saying Joe was shallow, please don't take that the wrong way!]; I was tight-knit with my church family. I was comfortable. Everyone liked me and I was still proud, still trying to be older than I was, still trying to find meaning, still searching for answers. I met Raquel and we clashed. She understood life better than I did and boy, did I get offended. Deep down I knew she was right, about a LOT of things; but hey, I was K Weeks, don't mess with me!... geez. What a little jerk I was, pushing through 3 AP classes in one semester like I was hot stuff, surrounded with a group of close friends and thinking I knew who God was, but so dissatisfied with myself. Things were shallow and I knew it. Underneath my comfort I was so incredibly discontent. That spring it really surfaced.
My family left C3. I don't need to go into all of the details, but my world crashed and my relationships... gone. For a good while, anyways. I was lost, lost, lost... who was I? Where was I? Oh yes, I had good grades, I passed my tests, I was "successful"... but I didn't know what I was doing and my identity in the people around me had been snapped in half so completely that I had to start over from scratch. That summer... I met God. Really, truly met Him, because He didn't leave. And in that, I began to know myself. We spent time together because I had no one else to spend it with. I can't even explain how that summer forced me to do the growing up I had wanted all along... only now I didn't really want it so much. It sucked. But then... oh, God is faithful. I met [for real, this time] Thomas and Dell and Pastor and Ashton Lynn Coats. These people understood. They cared. And Raq and I... we reconciled and it was like the light turned on and God told the angels to start singing, and quick. They kept me accountable and answered my questions and encouraged and I continued to grow, with them and under them and around them. I only wish I could describe how these people helped [God-inspired] to make me who I am today.
I turned 17. Senior year. It was a new Kristina, but I wasn't quite finished yet. I was quieter. I didn't feel the need to go out of my way to make people laugh, or even to make people like me. I stopped caring so much about who thought what about me. I was sensitive to certain things. I became close to Ashton, Amanda B. and Amanda T., and Raquel. At the beginning of the school year I wanted to focus on God more than anything. Saturate happened. After that, I must be careful for the respect of others, but I will say as much and little as I can. People continued to shape me, break me, uplift me, support me, challenge me, push me, hurt me, and love me. This senior year has proven to be the most defining and crushing road I have walked. Things fell apart and things came together. I met Luke and found mutuality. And Raq-- she inspired me. She loved me and understood me, even though we sometimes speak two different languages. We bonded and became unworthy in our worthiness. And Ashton and Amanda, who encouraged me in Christ and kept me accountable and are still teaching me discernment in when to open my mouth and when to shut up (haha). People who still continue to affect me and shape me and love me.
How can I look back sentimentally on high school when high school had nothing to do with it? These relationships still continue, who I am and who I was still continues, and who I will be waits for me. It all revolves at lightening speed, but oh, when it lights up the future for that fraction of a second, I see something beautiful. I hold tight to people... not high school.
God, it's You and me,
And all of the people...
