An open letter to the graduating class(es): First off, congratulations. You’re probably hearing this a lot, but as someone who’s still waiting to make it to where you are: congratulations. You made it through more or less 12 years of school, past every crisis, every meltdown, every huge test or project or assignment overload that made you want to take a month-long nap and hope everything would be done when you woke up. Every too-late night, every too-early morning, every conflict and contract and forgotten crucial assignment or pencil or calculator – you got past them all.

So I say, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart: congratulations.

And with that important expression expressed – I will admit to being very glad it’s not me. The very idea still terrifies me.

And if anyone reading this is laughing – tell me you don’t remember being 16, or 17, or 18, and not sure what’s supposed to happen next. Graduation is one of the few rites of passage secular Western society still holds onto, and funnily enough, no one ever mentions a rite of passage being reversible.

But anyways, back on topic.

You’re graduating. Moving up, or perhaps just moving on. Being a year away from graduating myself, I’m probably not qualified to address this topic, so instead I’m going to make a request.

Think of who you are right now. All the pieces and choices that make you the human being you are at this point in time. Everything you can think of that makes you “you.” Recognize that idea for an instant, just so you can say you did, and be ready to look back in a few years and be gobsmacked at how it’s changed.

Yes, I’m young, and probably don’t have nearly the experience to talk about this. But I’m also looking at how I can barely remember what happened to me earlier than five years ago, or how much I’ve changed, and trying to picture that disconnect increasing exponentially with every major milestone.

To be clear – change is never sudden. I’m hardly expecting anyone to just wake up tomorrow and find themselves a completely different person. But whoever you are at this point in time is worth recognizing all the same.

This is an open letter; something intended, by its nature, to be read beyond the target audience. Whether you’re currently taking the stage, graduated years ago, or are still stuck in the limbo of school like me: congratulations on where you are now. Good luck making it in the future. And try to understand who you are now, if only to be able to look back and understand how the you that was has adapted in the future.

— Nina Collay is a junior at Thornton Academy who can frequently be found listening to music, reading, wrestling with a heavy cello case, or poking at the keyboard of an uncooperative laptop.