Graduation

Graduation: The Chapter We Write Together

When the wind of early June blows through the old banyan trees at the school gate, I finally realize that my three years of high school are coming to an end. Standing at the foot of the teaching building, looking up at the windows of Class 3, Grade 12, the glass is still reflecting the sunlight that used to wake me up every morning, and I can almost hear the familiar bell for morning self-study ringing in my ears.

Three years ago, I walked into this campus with a heavy schoolbag and a nervous heart. I still remember the first day of senior one: I accidentally sat in the wrong seat, my deskmate, a boy with a pair of black glasses, pushed his textbook aside with a smile and said, “It’s okay, we can share this desk for a while.” That simple smile melted all my awkwardness. Over the following three years, we shared countless early mornings and late nights: we copied each other’s homework when we stayed up to finish math papers, we secretly shared a pack of lemon candy during boring politics classes, we cheered wildly when our class won the school basketball game, and we sat on the playground bleachers at night, talking excitedly about our dream universities, as if the whole future was spread out in front of us, bright and infinite.

High school is not always about sweetness and excitement. I will never forget the dark month after the second model test. My math score dropped by nearly 50 points, and I hid in the toilet after the score was announced, crying so hard that I couldn’t breathe. When I walked out with red eyes, my head teacher, Ms. Wang, was waiting for me at the door. She didn’t scold me or talk about big principles. She just handed me a bottle of warm milk and said, “I know you’ve tried your best. It’s okay to be tired for a while. I believe in you.” Those simple words were like a warm light, pulling me out of the trough. That night, I rearranged my wrong question book, wrote my dream university on a note and pasted it on the desk, and told myself to stand up where I fell.

Today, when I look back, all the hard days that used to feel unbearable have become the most precious treasures. The eraser crumbs on the desk, the chalk dust flying in the air, the sound of reading aloud that shakes the whole classroom in the morning, the rain hitting the window during evening self-study—all these trivial, ordinary fragments are pieced together into the most vivid youth I have ever had. We fought side by side here, we grew up here, and we learned what persistence and responsibility mean here.

In a few days, we will put on our graduation gowns, take the last group photo, and walk out of this school gate with different luggage and different dreams. Some of us will go to faraway cities to pursue our dreams, some of us will stay here, and all of us will step into a new chapter of life. I know that the road ahead will not always be smooth, there will be rain and thorns, but I am not afraid. Because the courage and faith I gained here will always be with me.

Thank you, my high school. Thank you to every classmate who walked with me, every teacher who guided me. This chapter is over, but our story has just begun. Let’s meet at the top, in a better future.

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