Graduation Day | Teen Ink

Graduation Day

April 23, 2009
By Mohammed Hussain GOLD, New York City, New York
Mohammed Hussain GOLD, New York City, New York
10 articles 0 photos 15 comments

When students enter middle school, euphoria and peace consume them because the rules and regulations, sizes, and lack of interest of the good ol’ public schools are gone. Students can only look in awe and wonder, similar to a young child that has one hundred dollars to buy his favorite gushers, cry babies, and sour patches in his local candy store, as they stare at their new, ostentatious schools that seem to open the gateway to Netherland. However, soon, another gruesome, monster-like, evil thought with an eerie, fearful grin, similar to that of a dark, venomous, cruel-hearted serial killer begins to laugh at them. It creates images of vicious hate; quickly, people grow incessant contempt towards their sunny, peach flavored Middle School that is like a vivacious yellow tulip that just blossomed. Hateful thoughts drink their brains; students think: man, when will I leave and be free in High School? I want the freedom to walk in the hallway and travel on the campus, but I have to be here and stuck in a place that is uncomfortable and small. As I went through middle school, I sometimes had the feeling that time was moving very slowly. I was curious: what happens in high school? When will I graduate? Soon, that day came; on June 22, 2007, I, Mohammed Hussain, graduated from William W. Niles Middle School.

Many people will tell you that everything about graduation is exhilarating or there is nothing melancholic about graduating. I mean, it is supposed to be the best, most glorious, exciting, beautiful, lively day of your life; in fact, graduating is like winning the lottery: it cannot be bad. I won’t disagree with them: graduating, of course, is not sad. However, graduation day wasn’t all fun and games for me; the day I graduated didn’t go by so smoothly. I woke up really early that day; it was about seven o’ clock am. My sister, who was fifteen at the time, shook me rapidly, like a dog’s tail would shake when it’s getting its favorite meal. Eventually, I got out of bed; it took me a few minutes to understand why my sister was waking me so early. Suddenly, I was crushed by immense happiness; it was as though a rock was thrown on me, a weak ant. When I realized that it was the June 22nd, I felt serene and light like a feather, but at the same time, similar to a lion, heavy and ferocious. I felt actively stationary, fiendishly angelic; acutely deaf, swiftly slow; courageously introverted, and powerfully weak. I felt punished by a plethora of emotions. I could growl louder than the fiercest bear and run swifter than the quickest cheetah. I got out of bed quickly and sprinted to the bathroom straight away. Millions of thoughts were running, jumping, and skipping throughout my mind. I couldn’t believe it: I was going to graduate from Middle School. I looked at myself in the mirror; a tall boy with gold, alluring, shiny badges that seemed to glitter like the moon in a solar eclipse, and bright, illuminating trophies was smiling at me. Immediately, I ran to the others rooms and awoke my father and mother. It seemed as though a cat had been run over by a train because my father was snoring rather loudly. It took me a while to awake him. Eventually, my baby sisters, Sunniha, Annha, and Farhana got ready; they wore little, gorgeous, angelic white dresses that were puffed up with fancy little roses. Also, they wore sandals with pictures of Strawberry Shortcake, Barbie and other cartoon pictures. My older sister and I got ready too. I wore my blue graduation gown that looked like the ocean when the sunlight plays with its waves. It also gave me a gold, virtuous aura that was cleaner than the water from Maine’s vigorous springs. My father, earlier, had to attend work, and said that he would be back in time to take my sisters, my mother, and me to Lehman College, where I was graduating. Soon, I realized that time had decided to not wait for me: three o’ clock was approaching fast. However, my father was still not here. The phone rang; it halted my thoughts like a noisy alarm. My mother picked it up; she told me that my dad was delayed by the trains and would take a while to come back from Manhattan, which felt like it was past the seven seas, mountains, and all the deserts in the world at that moment. I felt very heavy, like I was carrying heavy, thousand pound weights. All the happiness had slowly crept away from me, leaving me vulnerable and susceptible to sadness. I was drowning, and the walls, laughing evilly, began to walk towards me and cave me in a small space. I was like a claustrophobic person locked in a very small box; I felt the emotions differing from euphoria and joy, which were sadness, fear, and anger. Instead of lashing out my anger on others, I began to go into another room and cry. Large pools of water, similar to a waterfall, began to fall out of my eyes like a dam had broken. The tears, crystal clear and dancing in the light, slowly made the trek from my cheeks down to my chin and then to my hands. After several minutes passed, which seemed like epochs of torture and pain, I sighed and began to run back to the room my family members were in. When I ran, the flower vase, started by my sudden movement, began to fall slowly. I watched the vase fall in this Matrix-like motion, similar to the way a person feels when they see their only child die. The vase crumbled to small pieces, and the soil buried the rose. Perhaps, this reflected my present state: the rose falling to the floor represented my happiness slowly disappearing. I then thought the most ironic, dreadful phrase in history: this cannot get any worse. Well, it is ironic for a reason: the day got worse. I learned that I actually ripped the button off of my graduation gown, and the rip definitely showed. Furthermore, when my dad came and we hurried outside, we couldn’t even find a taxi.

However, graduation wasn’t all bad, although we had to run to make it in time and I had to wear a ripped gown (which I, by the way, tried to hide from people’s view). When I got to Lehman College, there were many happy, familiar faces. Lehman College seemed to sparkle, perhaps because of the way sunlight hit it or maybe due to the joy of the students that were going to celebrate their graduation inside of it. Ecstatic smiles were on students’ faces. Each student had the face of a Mega Millions Jackpot winner. Even some enemies were smiling and making small talk. There were parents and children everywhere. Everyone laughed like there were no problems in their lives and like they were all on cloud nine. This was perhaps the most joyous event in years. Some people had tears of joy that looked like waterfalls; others cried because they missed their friends. All the people were dressed up: the students in their neat, blue and white gowns, and the parents with fancy dresses, shirts and rainbow-like, colorful attire. The area was a rainbow of colors; there were the rosy red dresses, grassy green shirts, mellow yellow skirts, and all sorts of other colors. There were a plethora of different smells, too; spicy and sweet smells of daffodils and other types of flowers, along with that of candy peppermint, were there. Eventually, I had to go in the building while the parents lined up to go in the auditorium where the ceremony was taking place. I saw my teachers on the way. Mr. Seltzer, my English teacher, had on a tie and looked stranger than I was accustomed to. He looked like a clown in a child’s birthday party. My Mathematics and Social Studies teachers, Mrs. Ruiz and Mrs. Sickles, were happy and smiling and even crying somewhat. Then, I made my way inside.

The auditorium was full of comforting noise and laughter; when I realized that I had to walk in, the auditorium seemed like a hall full of students, and I was their object of interest. The pianist began to play a soothing, harmonious, rhythmic sound. Left foot, then right and then move your left foot again, followed by your right. Nervousness began eating me like the way small, dark termites feed on dark wood, as I was walking into the crowds of people, or rather students, who had those anxious and happy, mixed emotions types of looks. Eventually, I made it to my seat, managing not to trip, nearly grazing the long gown’s hems of the person in front of me. Then, everyone sang in a soft, steady music that appealed to the ears like the satisfaction an infant feels when his mother sings a calming lullaby. I knew the lyrics of the song a little, but lip-sang it because I forgot the majority. Eventually, we sat down and then stood up again after the long, dreadful speeches which were like watching a stunted plant attempt to grow ( the people who went up mostly said the same things), to get our awards. I got a Science medal; they didn’t give it to me yet, but I knew that when I would get it the next day at school, it would be bright and shiny, and it would fit me like my name.

Thinking back, my graduation was a good thing. The day wasn’t entirely grand or exquisite. It wasn’t all noteworthy and flashy and glossy, but at the end, it turned out all right. I was happy. That day, I wore my beautiful gown and walked up the beautiful isles, like a soldier who had completed his mission assigned for him the last three years of his life, and was ready for his well deserved Medal of Honor. Perhaps, it was true that I experienced a little sadness; however, in the end, I did get the reward for the three years of my hard work and I was able to see my teachers again. Everyone was so happy that day; my graduation will be a memorable experience for me and it will last a long time, like a picture that will never be thrown away. I’ll always remember the day I graduated from William W. Niles Middle School.

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