The Grass is Always Greener

Senior Superlative: Most likely to play Cupcake 2048 in class.


Photo courtesy of Luci Garza

Luci Garza, Editor-in-Chief

As the purple and silver confetti littered my kitchen counter falling out of my LASA acceptance letter, I had two initial reactions. The first were tears. To this day I don’t think I will ever be completely sure if they were tears of joy, fear, relief, or something in between. More often than not, they feel like the first signs of preparation my subconscious was taking for the emotional rollercoaster I was about to subject myself to.


The second was a premature longing to be done. As I religiously stalked the website of the new place I would call home for four years, I looked at every senior and wished to be in their place. As more people gained knowledge of my acceptance, I heard more horror stories of what my life was soon to be. Yet, plastered all over a dated purple website were smiling, happy, teenagers that had made it to the other side of the magnet endorsement rainbow. I anxiously awaited for my turn to be in their shoes, and writing this, I realize the time has come.


People have many names for their four years of highschool. Golden. Awful. Painstakingly mediocre. Somehow, mine seem to fit in all three categories.While a global pandemic flipped my entire world upside down, I have also experienced very little out of the ordinary. The years I have had on campus, shared between LBJ and LASA, feel truly like public school. PDA in the hallways, broken AC in the summer, and leaky ceilings all bring me a sense of normalcy, aiding in the true high school experience. However, what sets LASA apart is the fact that despite these obstacles, each class I have taken is filled with the minds full of potential. Each classmate, from friend to enemy, is deeply gifted in one way or another. Since coming here, I have realized, and now truly believe that there is no other place in the world like this school. There is no other place where hours of sleep are compared so deeply, or where the students write poems about the prom after party. To say I’ll miss it might be a stretch, but I certainly doubt I will come close to being able to experience anything like it again. 


I think I imagined the end of my time here would be more special, in some way. I’m not sure what exactly my eighth-grade self had in mind, but I can certainly say there are no unicorns or pots of gold waiting for me. Instead, I look behind me to find no rainbow at all. All that’s left are the memories I have made along the way, plenty good, bad, and ugly. As I reminisce, reality trickles in harsher and more saturated than expected. The journey of starting  brand new all over again is right around the corner, and this time my body has taken a much milder approach to preparing. It’s true what the teachers tell us, that LASA leaves you ready for just about anything. While it might not be completely due to their influence, an environment full of  intense academic rigor mixed with high school drama is no joke. At times, I thought I would never make it out alive, yet I’m leaving a survivor of them both, stronger than ever, ready to take on whatever might come my way.