Story by Linda Yun
Editor-in-Chief
Like many others, I turned in my senior privilege card application late. Unlike many others, I turned it in so late that, upon asking if I could use the card the following day, the front office literally laughed in my face. I was to use the card the following Friday — nearly two weeks from then.
With my request denied, the trek from the front office to my lunch table felt like a walk of shame. I had climbed my way up the high school pyramid, metamorphosing from a studious freshman to a winded senior. Yet despite my efforts, I’m forced to eat the same (healthy!) zucchini lasagna on the same campus as those who have never experienced a free response question.
My dignity fully shattered, I met my friends at our usual table and walked them to the gate. As we lined up by the Diamond gate, their eyes glimmered with anticipation at the prospect of dining out, but I awaited with dread. One friend optimistically suggested that I make a run for it, but I knew my fate: it was only a matter of time before my lack of a senior privilege card would flag me as an escapee.
Unsurprisingly, I learned that I must stay within campus. As I waved my lunch-bound friends the most bittersweet goodbye, I was confronted with the question: What do I do during lunch without my group? My mind assumed the worst: surely I would become a lunchtime loner. I would have to drift between groups, clinging onto the individuals I knew and beg for a morsel of their companionship.
That first day, I walked dejectedly to Mr. Ku’s room in hopes of finding some Tiger friends. To my surprise, everyone was there. We delve into an interesting conversation about basketball, flavors of Salt & Straw ice cream, and baguettes. “Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad,” I began to think.
In the following days, whenever my friend group left to eat out, I made an effort to sit with a new group. Over the course of the week, I found myself table-hopping, catching up with old friends across the quad and attempting to connect with new ones in various classrooms. At some point, I caught myself in an Astro Club meeting, attempting to guess-timate the diameter of the sun in a near-impossible Kahoot — a meeting I never would have attended had I left for lunch.
I could oversimplify this entire experience and say that lacking a privilege card forced me to be more social, but that’s not entirely true. Rather, I think it’s one of many things from this year that have prompted me to become more open-minded. Throughout high school, I’ve allowed the immediate group I was in to define my social circle, which creates a sort of artificial limit on who I could become friends with. Perhaps it’s my desperation of trying to live out a romanticized ending to high school, but I’d like to say I’ve changed as a person. Though initially dreadful, the experience being trapped in SPHS has allowed me to appreciate spontaneity.
So now, as I await the processing of my senior privilege card, I’m no longer filled with dread. As impossible as it sounds, I will await my first lunchtime Rice and Nori with newfound appreciation.
