1.  November 1

When the fun of Halloween ends and reality sets back in, seniors come to realize that their ED application and seven other Early Action applications are due on the same night—and only half their essays are done! 

2.  December 15 (or whenever your early schools come out)

You may think November 1 sucks, but picture this: It’s December 15, when you find out that the countless all-nighters you pulled just yielded a big fat no. “Rejection is redirection.” Yeah, redirection from enjoying the holidays to spending all of winter break crying in my bed. 

3. PM Band Activities

After a long day of one full academic class, two electives, and yelling at three different freshmen wearing college merch, the last thing that seniors want to do is sit through the same assembly they’ve been watching since Middle School. Just let us get Yogurtland!

 4. Wearing the uniform 

Earning the title of senior means throwing away your skirts. Well, at least that used to be the case. As faculty now enforces the uniform more strictly, seniors can no longer show up to school sporting a tank top and Brandy Melville sweats, expecting to get away with it.  

5. Doing anything second semester

There’s still class during the second semester of senior year? Grades still matter too? Have we not earned the right to relax? It doesn’t help that seniors used to be done after AP exams, and now we have to make it until June!

6. Getting dress coded wearing senior exempt clothes

After 9 years of attending Westridge wistfully waiting for our turn, us lifers are finally able to splay our toes, boast the merch, and bend the rules. Until, alack! We’ve received wind of an AI Tiger and accusatory emails saying we’ve been out of dress code. How could this be?

7. Not having a driver’s license 

Trudging into school, head down, posture slumped can only mean one thing: it’s a  driver’s license-less senior. Waiting for your parents to pick you up in Carline while a junior speeds away in her Tesla Model X is the ultimate hallmark of humiliation. Even worse: you had your permit—only it expired. 

8. Having to finish a requirement (art, PE)

Tanvi, our Managing Editor, we’re looking at you! Imagine working hard through three years of high school, excited to take an upperclassmen history elective, only to realize that because you skipped ceramics freshman year, the only way you can graduate is by  taking Photo I with ten freshmen.   

9. Blurry senior page

After numerous threatening emails from Yearbook, you lazily send in a picture your mom took for you in junior year—it can’t possibly be that bad, right? WRONG. When May rolls around, you eagerly flip to your page only to be accosted by a two pixel smudge that more so resembles a Minecraft skin than yourself. It could’ve gone unnoticed, but your name is in 4K resolution, so everyone knows it’s you. 

10. The juniors taking your place next year 

Imagine Pete Davidson retiring only for Matt Rife to take over—an undoubtedly egregious, abhorrent, and downright blasphemous scenario. Now replace “Pete Davidson” with “Class of 2025” and “Matt Rife” with “Class of 2026.” Still an undoubtedly egregious, abhorrent, and downright blasphemous scenario. I’d even go so far as to tack on “apocalyptic” because let’s face it—Westridge’s demise is on the other side of our graduation.

11. Going back to the bottom of the food chain next year 

Alphas, top dogs, best class in Westridge history—all synonymous with Class of 2025! Only, when we head off to college next year, we’ll have to start from the bottom. Betas, underdogs, and undeniably, freshmen. Oh woe! I detest myself already. 

12. Seeing freshman wear college merch

I blink. Then I rub my eyes. I shake my head. I gasp. It can’t possibly be…a freshman wearing…college attire?! Before I know it my head begins to pound, my eyes bleeding and my heart seizing. The Harvard College sweatshirt flashes before my eyes, and I know the freshman surely thinks it’s her likely school at best. 

13. College Kickstart

A senior plugs in her college list into College Kickstart—her first mistake. Oh, the naivete! Her list gets smacked with a D- (no, not a “Westridge B,” an honest-to-god D-).