Where we love is home – home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.”
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.
This class has been my home since my very first day three years ago. In no other place do I feel as accepted and supported than when I’m inside Hunni’s classroom. In no other class do I yearn for the clocks to slow and give me more time with the family I have grown to love. There is no other class I look forward to going to every day – AP isn’t even a class anymore – it’s home.
Leaving home is never easy. Moving out, going to university, getting a job, a spouse, a mortgage – none of it is facile. Each scenario is hard because it redefines where we are in life, it demands change whether or not we are ready to accept it. That’s how many of the grade 12’s are feeling about the impending alterations that will follow graduation. We feel like our parents and teachers have packed up all of our things and kicked us to the curb. We are left to find our way alone – as adults. Our home is evolving from a safe and comfortable environment into the frightening unknown of the real world. We worry: when it rains will there be a roof over our heads? Who is going to dig us out when the responsibilities come crumbling down around us? What do we do when it seems like all of our options lead to failure, hurt, and disappointment? Where will we go when we run out of our newfound hope and passion for independence? And most importantly, when we find ourselves returning to our old lives, will we even recognize them?
Leaving behind our class does not just mean leaving behind three years of laughter, learning, and self-discovery – it’s leaving home. So when I do return, for I know I will never be able to truly cut ties with those in AP, I hope that I can walk into the room and Hunni will still call me baby, and the books lining the walls will still look the way I remember them, and the students will not have forgotten how lucky they are to call this place home.