If I could describe my high school journey in one word, it would be belief. Belief in myself, the
four pillars, faith. I believe that belief is not just trust; it is trust in the uncertainty. I’m grateful for
all I’ve found at Saint Edward, and I’m scared of what I’ll be losing next year.
It’s not just confidence and it’s not just faith; it’s the ability to say I’m scared and have no idea
what is happening, but I’m going to do it anyway. It’s when we joined that sport freshman year.
When we prayed together during the one percent challenge. That time we became tour guides
for future students. That time when we were filled with doubt, yet we still strode forward.
Entering Saint Edward, some of us were looking for a trophy and others a quick high school
diploma. We were fifteen years old, blindly following the path of life. We would’ve never believed
our time here would amount to this much.
By itself, Saint Edward is just an old, brick building that looks increasingly less like the letter “E”
each year. However, as people enter the building each morning, it transforms into a community
of believers. We won’t have this next year. We won’t know everyone in our grade. We won’t
have group texts to depend on.
As an eagle, we’ve all soared. Winning state championship(s), winning that elusive award,
getting that top grade in that annoyingly hard class. At the same time, there will always be
things we wish we did: experienced that service trip, went to that party, joined that club. These
wants and wishes seem to never go away.
We are reminded of green and gold. Of the music on Fridays. Of Williams’ good morning. Of
Garlock’s good morning. Of the alma mater. Of friendship. We’ve spent all our lives establishing
relationships that will wash away in an instant. No more early breakfast at Grey Dog Diner,
choppin’ it up with your favorite teacher, walking through the Palisen Common Doors every
morning.
But maybe that’s fine.
Leaving Saint Edward, there’s this sense of pressure and excitement. Pressure to fulfill that
30,000 dollar education and excitement for the experiences that follow.
Up until now, decisions were always chosen for us. All of a sudden, we have full control over our
lives. Some know they will get that degree, enter med school, and have their whole lives
planned out. But for most of us, the road ahead is foggy and uncertain.
As we step foot into the next phase of our lives, we will be thrust with loads of responsibilities all
at once. No more mom or dad telling us to do our homework or take out the laundry. No more
family dinner at 6 pm. This uncertainty scares me. More than finding friends or excelling in
school—I’m scared of not having everything laid out in front of me.
But maybe that’s belief.
Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that college was the best four years of their lives. They partied,
made lifelong friends, set themselves up for life. No one will ever say they had a terrible time.
So then why are we still afraid of the aspect of college?
We are so young. We’re eighteen years old. We have so much time ahead of us. Our book
hasn’t even reached the climax yet. There’s no telling what the person to the right and left of us
will be in four years. There’s so much good uncertainty.
I’m not scared that college won’t be fun—I’m sure it will be—I’m scared of not being held
together by rules that we’ve lived with all our lives. I’m scared of losing teachers and friends who
matter so much to us.
In the end, no matter how confident we may look, we are all scared and clueless, yet we stride
forward anyway. I’d say this version of belief captures how we feel in the transition past high
school. How I feel right now. With all of you.
Let’s stride forward, 2025. Let’s change something for the better in this world.
Inspired by Marina Keegan’s article “KEEGAN: The Opposite of Loneliness”
