Dear Class of 2020,

Graduation Day.

There's a palpable vibrancy to the air when I step into the crowded, buzzing back room of East Hall at the Cook Convention Center. Flashes of smiles unable to contain the excitement, disbelief dancing from person to person, and sighs laden with relief reverberate from all corners of the room, combining to create an encompassing cloud of indescribable emotions.

Before I know it, my cap is pinned to my hair, the National Honor Society collar is around my neck, and I am paraded into blinding camera flashes and erupts of cheers and applause from family and friends to the expected marching tune of Pomp and Circumstance. To my designated seat I walk, and I sit through the speeches I knew would be forgotten in twenty four hours, all while I excitedly wait for my turn to walk across the stage.

I blink, and there I am.

The ringing of my name as it is proclaimed for all to hear, the bounce in my step as I accept my diploma, and the shakiness with which I return to my seat as I glance down at the embossed diploma holder, all fly out the door alongside me, as I find myself leaning against the front entrance among a sea of green robed high school alumni.

Finally free to look toward the years ahead, what could possibly worry the class of 2020?

Little did I know that I would find that I had spoken too soon.

As one who proudly calls herself a native Memphian, I have comfortably grown up and around the same groups of people for as long as I can remember. Of course, there were those friends and families that appeared into the foreground and disappeared into the background every once in a while, but essentially the same familiar faces have been a part of my journey since the beginning.

It never truly hit me that I would essentially have to start over when I got to college, even though the last year and a half of my life was plagued and consumed by the prospect of college. It's rather ironic, that months of applications and waiting wouldn't yield the enormity this one tiny but very important detail would have.

I'll be the first to admit that high school was a battleground for many insecurities. In certain fights I was victorious. Others? Perhaps not so much.

Nevertheless, I soon realized that those failures and successes were crucial to who I was and who I could be, as a student, friend, sister, daughter, and mentor. The more I began to accept, but not settle on who I was, the more my community reflected and acknowledged that. I could start over without really having to begin anew.

The question is, will my future classmates and campus community do the same? Would I allow myself to be who I am, carefree of the time old anxiety and fears of how complete strangers would perceive my opinions, beliefs, and idiosyncrasies?

It's a daily conundrum where the answer varies. Some days I chat excitedly with my roommate about the upcoming orientation and campus activities/ambitions. Other days, it seems that I’m blocked by a giant wall of self-preservation, where I’m tempted to go back into my shell and plagued with qualms about how well I will adjust to and fit in to my new life and community.

And it was on such a day, class of 2020, that I realized we had not graduated. Not entirely.

Nor will we ever, if we continue to not give ourselves the chance to look at a fresh start as just that---a chance for change.

Aren’t we all just tired of lugging around personal baggage from one chapter to the next? While there are certain insecurities and inner demons that we all continue to deal no matter how old we are, don’t owe it to ourselves to have a chance at confronting those issues, an opportunity that is untainted by our preconceived notions about the influence of those fears and doubts?

Trust me, we all are afraid. We all are doubtful. We all are wary. Yet, it is essential that we recognize that we are not alone in our fears, doubts, and uneasiness. Take a look to your left, and then to your right. There will always be someone there, whether you know it or not, who can acknowledge and relate. No one expects us to know it all and adjust as quickly as possible—what makes all the difference in the world is if we do not unrealistically expect that of ourselves as well.

We have the opportunity of a lifetime to take a leap of faith with people who will be taking that same leap alongside us. It won’t be easy, it won’t be simple, but reward never comes without risk.

The door is wide open.

The stage is set for us to walk across and immerse ourselves in a world of unimaginable potential, experience, and growth.

To the class of 2020, I say, let’s walk across that stage and graduate not only from high school, but finally from the fears and anxieties that prevent us from fully taking the step toward some of the best years of our lives.

Who knows the obstacles we’ll face, the people we’ll meet, the classes we’ll enjoy (or dislike), and the experiences we’ll take. For now, all it matters is that we’re here, and we have walked across to the other side.

Onwards and upwards,

A former worrisome class of 2020 freshman.