The Obvious Reason

12th Grade is an Existential Crisis

The other day I went to a “Pi Day” celebration with this year’s class of fifth graders. It wasn’t anything huge—just pie and math facts—but at the end, the teacher showed a slideshow of the senior class when they were in fifth grade. And sitting there watching the pictures slide by of my classmates looking embarrassingly young, made me think about how different my life is now compared to how it was then.

Back in fifth grade, we were big kahunas, the kings of the hill, the big fish in a small pond. We ruled that elementary playground with iron fists—chubby, little iron fists, but iron fists nonetheless. It’s not too different from where we are now. Seniors are at the top of the food chain, after all. We may think of ourselves as the kind, beneficiary monarchs, but at the end of the day, the underclassmen still see us as the same ruthless dictators we were in fifth grade. So what changed?

There is, of course, the obvious reason. I am much older, smarter, and more experienced: an overall more grown person than I was in fifth grade. So, is that what warranted such a large change in my life? Or is there more?

The obvious reason accounts for the change in actual school work. I am not so young and incapable of handling a more serious workload. But why has it changed so drastically? In fifth grade, school was a place I wanted to be, not somewhere I dreaded. 

The science teacher would play Bill Nye and give us popcorn or candy while we watched. For social studies, we would “travel the world,” sitting on the floor, listening as the teacher read about Mozambique or Myanmar or some other place we’d never heard of. In English, we would play “Sparkle” to review vocabulary and spelling. But math, math was the best (can you imagine that? Math was the best!). 

Every week, we were given a sheet of math facts. Sometimes it was addition, sometimes it was subtraction, but if you were really smart you’d sit at the table with the other smart kids and get the sheet with the honored “multiplication facts.” The goal was to get every math fact down in one minute. At the end of the year, the teachers treated all the kids to ice-cream sundaes. And the best kids—the honored multiplicators—were able to load their sundaes with every topping there was. 

There are no ice cream sundaes in twelfth grade. Our teachers believe that in the eight-or-so years since fifth grade we have become mentally, physically, and emotionally equipped for the eight hours of work we do in school, and the eight hours of work we do out of school. There is, of course, the obvious excuse. The teachers are merely preparing us for college. And while that’s all well and good, isn’t there room for ice-cream sundaes anywhere in the schedules? Or anything outside the soul-crushing “college-preparatory” work we are subject to now?

I don’t even get a break outside of regular school work either. Every step of my twelfth-grade life is like some dreadful math equation: “elementary school > high school.” It’s almost funny, how in fifth grade there were more facets for stress relief than there are in twelfth grade. Almost.

I shouldn’t complain, though. There are a lot of good aspects to senior year. Take the obvious: I’m about to graduate, about to head off to college and join the infamous “real world.” Unfortunately, this wonderful outcome comes with a dreadful side-effect: senioritis. Even the word is daunting. The horrible disease seeps into the bones of every senior until they are so filled with anticipation to graduate that they can no longer focus on their school work. 

This degrading disease has reverted us back to our fifth-grade state. But because of the despicable, ever-present obvious reason, we are treated like adults and not like fifth-graders. Hey, why isn’t there any middle ground? Why is it either adult or child? I’m an adolescent here, my frontal lobe isn’t even fully developed!

So while fifth-graders get movie days after one hundred days of school, seniors just get another assignment. And while fifth-graders get a party for every holiday or special occasion, seniors just get another assignment. While fifth-graders get to frolic with their friends every day,  seniors just get another assignment.

I mean seriously, how come a bunch of fifth-graders get a whole period every day just to goof off? Recess sounds like every highschoolers dream: a whole period where thinking is not required. Where do I sign up?

The obvious reason is really not fair. How come I have to act grown up just because I’m a little more grown? Why do I have to be responsible instead of slacking off with my friends all the time?

And while I’m on the subject, what happened to all our fifth-grade friendships? Didn’t we swear to be “best friends forever”? Yeah, that obviously turned out great. I have no idea where my fifth-grade best friends are right now, but they definitely aren’t my current best friends. 

It’s kind of tragic. We swore we would be BFFs, but it’s a lot harder to manage a friendship with the obvious reason always weighing on our shoulders. All those friends we promised we’d have in our lives forever just fell away. 

Maybe it’s for the better. The friendships in our lives now are almost certainly stronger than the bonds we formed in our elementary school days. For that, I suppose I should thank the obvious reason. The relationships forged under the stresses of incoming adulthood have a strength that rivals diamonds. After all, it’s common knowledge that pressure makes diamonds, so I figure the same logic applies to friendships.

So yes, obviously my life is different than was when I was in fifth grade. But my life is different now than it was a year ago and it will be different a year from now. Life is constantly in flux; things change, not necessarily for the worse and not necessarily for the better. The obvious reason is that I’m growing up, whether I want to or not. It’s not a curse, dooming all people to lives of misery. It just is.