“High School is supposed to be the best years of your life.” Wrong. “You’re being dramatic, you got one bad grade.” Wrong. “It’s ok just breathe, it’s easy.” Wrong. They were all wrong. High School changes your morals, high school decides when you get to sleep, when you get to eat, and your social ranking. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, don’t let them lie to you, like they lied to me.

They say High School years are the best years. Adults tell you to be honest but don’t follow that important “policy” we’ve learned about since we were kids. Here’s what it’s really like: I woke up at 5:34 a.m, the familiar alarm sound I’ve come to loathe keeps ringing in my ear no matter how many times I think I’ve turned it off. Beginning my usual repetitive routine, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth. It’s when I was brushing my teeth I heard my home phone ring. My blood went cold, I remember looking at myself in the mirror, unable to move my feet in time to reach the phone, but I knew what my voicemail was about to reveal. Don’t ask me how I knew, but I knew. My grandma’s voice hysterical, screaming my moms name that my grandpa had died. I was just staring at myself waiting for the tears that never came. By the time I was able to move, my mom and dad had woken up and were able to speak with my grandma.

It’s difficult to separate what happened from what seemed to happen considering I was a freshman at the time and currently I am a junior, but I remember after the bathroom I went to the kitchen to make my lunch for 6th period when my dad came in to break the news that I already had received before him. I couldn’t tell you why but I pretended I didn’t know. I prayed and prayed that my parents wouldn’t make me stay home, I needed to go to school, I had too much to do. Now, how does this relate to high school? Well, I went to high school the day my grandpa died because I had an algebra test I had to take, because I had an english essay to write, because I had a biology lab to complete, because I had an italian dialogue to speak, and of course because I had the infamous, all important DBQ in global class I had to finish. High school had changed my morals.

That was a Friday, the funeral was planned for Tuesday. It’s heartbreaking now to even put this in writing but the disappointment I felt when I heard that my grandpa’s funeral was on a school day embarrasses me to this day. High school had changed my morals so dramatically that if I was given a choice between the funeral or school, odds are I would’ve picked school.

In many cases a true High School story cannot be believed. For instance, the day my grandpa died not only did I attend school but I went to my basketball practice after school. My JV practices took place in the annex gym. This memory comes in flashes. The drill was simple we did it every practice usually, but coach explained it anyway. At this point in time, none of my friends had known what had happened earlier on this day. It was my turn to go, the ball is passed to me, I catch it. I blanked. Oblivious to the fact that my teammates were screaming it was my turn. “Pay attention or you’ll be benched for tomorrow’s game.” My coach yelled at me.  It’s hard to tell you what happened next. “I can’t breathe.” I was finally able to spit out, as I slid down to the floor on the lightly padded walls of the annex gym. A panic attack is what my therapist called it. But the athletic trainer, my teammates, and my coach will call it an asthma attack, because a true high school story is dishonest.

A true high school story will have one moral, and one moral only. No matter how long and elaborate this story may be, nevertheless the moral will always be to succeed. Doesn’t matter who you have to hurt, whether yourself or others along the road to success but make sure you get there. If a story has any other moral, do not believe it. And in the end, of course, a true high school story is never about if you're emotionally or mentally stable. It matters if your grades are stable, and it matters how many clubs you participate in, and it matters how many sports you play, and it matters how many friends you have. High school will make you succeed, a funeral will not, so why go right? Well at least my freshman year, that’s what high school taught me.