She checked in with her adviser at 7:27 a.m. her very first day of freshman year. She glanced down at her schedule; Spanish was first. As she paced through the halls of M&A, she frantically replayed the events of yesterday’s orientation, trying to remember which room exactly was the Spanish room. Found it.

She sat down in the classroom, waiting for roll to be called. Of course her last name was pronounced wrong. She laughed. Typical.

Soon, she discovered what she was learning in class wasn’t nearly as important as who she was learning it with.

She learned that being smart is cool, that Waldo Pizza trumps all, that the administration is always on her side. She learned to love herself, to feel confident in her own skin. She learned it didn’t matter that she came to school with acne and unwashed hair–her friends think she’s beautiful anyway.

She checked in at exactly 7:47 a.m. her very last day of senior year. She begged her adviser not to count her late, it was the last day she’d ever check in and she already had tons of tardies.

She sprinted outside with the ‘seniors, seniors!’ chant ringing in her ears. She looked around at the girls surrounding her. They had become a unit: they laughed together, cried together, lived together for the past four years.

One year of netbooks, two main buildings, three summers, four years and five dances later, it was the last day of school.

She thought back to her very first day of freshman year. That feeling of innocence flooded her system. She’s come so far since then. She inhaled, vowing never to forget this sacred moment.

She is you.

She is me.

She is us.

And she’s going to miss this place.