Summer seemed positively endless. Innumerable days stretching on like an ocean in either direction, each filled with the usual freedom and wonder one experiences when summer-ing properly. The thought of it actually ending had not crossed my mind once the entire time. Instead, I spent my days watching independent films, reading Alan Watts, drinking lots of tea, and various other sorts of typical teenager-trouble. I promise.
I remember exactly where I was when it happened. I was sitting at home at two in the afternoon, watching a particularly lovely Indian romance titled Maussam, in which a very sweet couple is torn apart and reunited while Indian history unfolding in the background behind them. It’s a bit like Forrest Gump except with more kissing and subtitles.
At the same time I was also conversing with my good friend Victoria, an activity which I have found myself doing with an absurd frequency. This results in her reaching down to rapidly type on her phone during some of the most appropriate occasions. Texting at mealtimes? That’s just plain rude.
Now, I should mention that I do not own a cell phone, so when I use the word “texting”, what I mean to say is that we use email to communicate, which works in rather the same fashion; her on her phone and myself on my iPod. The reason why this is relevant, you see, is that over the summer I have grown accustomed to associating the familiar ‘ding’ of the Gmail app with the many entertaining and informative texts I have received. On this occasion, however, I reached for my iPod to see, to my surprise, an email from dear, lovable Mrs. Hartman informing me that my summer was all but over, and it was time to write a blog post detailing, in the past tense, all that I had accomplished.
I pretended that I had not read it for the next thirty hours.
I’m not going to claim that I have finally come to grips with the fact that it’s time to return to school. Statistically, neither have you. So as I see it, we have two options, you and I. We can sit here, moaning about how much school sucks and how we don’t want to go. But what does that do? It makes us feel a bit better is what.
However, I propose something different, and arguably a bit more productive. It’s our school, isn’t it? We form the community that defines what CCH is. And each of our individual experiences of it make up the collective experience of CCH. So it’s up to each of us, then, to make CCH a good place.
This year let’s set a goal for ourselves. Rather than to simply hope to have a good year, let’s make this a good year. For ourselves, for our peers, for our faculty, and for our students. Let’s get up at that unreasonably early hour each day and aim to make it a great one. Let’s say “hi” to our friends in the hallway, and maybe that other fellow too-the one with that deep frown on his face. Let’s help that teacher with the boxes who’s struggling to open the door, and let’s help out that kid before class who didn’t understand the homework.
Because if we don’t make it a great year, who will?
Jack Harvey is a Grade Eleven student at CCH. He enjoys producing amateur films and occasionally spending time with actual, real-life friends. HIs favourite thing about CCH is meeting new people.