reflect this
well... just when i thought that senior projects were over, i learned that i had to write a reflective paper... and so i did... i reflected long and hard... and there were some things that needed to be said... so dammit... i said them... from what i have been told... this is mildly entertaining
Sara Tedde
May 9, 2005
Senior Exhibition Reflective Paper
Looking back to the beginning of my senior year, I knew from the start that my Senior Exhibition Project was going to be something that I did not want to deal with. Despite the support that the administration throws behind its cherished FLEX program, I myself have discovered that it’s just another thing to add to the bottom of my priority list. As I was handed rubrics, outlines, and checklists I felt as though I was solely responsible for the depletion of the mighty rainforests. However, with the pending threat of an everlasting high school career looming above my head, I made a half-assed decision on my topic, and carried out my project with the most glorious display of cynicism.
I decided to design the website for Exhalations because the opportunity was conveniently presented to me about 36 hours before the proposal was due. I didn’t actually know about this deadline, however. In fact, throughout the majority of the year, I was left completely uninformed of deadlines and requirements. This made the entire experience that much more of an aggravation to me. Nothing is more frustrating than being informed of a research paper four days before it’s due and trying to fit it in amidst a full calendar of work, rehearsals and appointments. It was also a huge burden to find out that my binder was actually due a week earlier than I was originally told. Another huge shock is when you find out two days before April 22, that you need to have three visuals, and you only have the project itself. Fortunately, I have a sister with obsessive-compulsive disorder, so she was able to “assist” me in whipping up two more. Faculty members may try to blame me, the student, for being irresponsible. I blame my English teacher, because he was the absolute opposite of helpful. By the way, Mr. Kallet, you still haven’t given me a white binder. I took care of it though; I stole one that somebody gave you from last year. That’s right, Senior Exhibitions turned me into a common criminal. On a positive note, I was able to have some heart-warming conversations with my friends in the advanced classes. These were all initiated by questions that I had about my favorite project. If my English teacher were to acknowledge my questions, or at least spend time going over the project (instead of deeming the evil side of the circle to be God’s great gift to room A102), then I’d have never sought their help.
In retrospect, I should have chosen a project that I did not actually care about. Creating a beneficial website, for a club that I adore, would have been an excellent choice if it didn’t come with the “Senior Project” title. That forsaken phrase sucked any fun and value out of the entire task. If I had to redo my senior year, I’d petition the school board to save billions of tax dollars on paper waste. Speaking of monetary squanderings, I paid about $8 on a poster for my presentation. That’s an hour and twenty minutes of labor at the Rennerdale Corner Store. I should have used that money to buy a couple packs of cigarettes to get me through the last 15 hours of the project, but no, I had to reinvest it in the demonic experience.
Well, now that I have rehashed the traumatic experiences of the senior project, I should probably take my anti-depressants to avoid any episodes that may follow this reflection of sorts. Without the Senior Project I would have undoubtedly had an enjoyable year. I’d have even made www.exhalations.org without the graduation requirement attached to it. Alas, a potentially gratifying experience was once more turned into a parasitic one by the FLEX program. It reminds me of the time I did community service and felt really good about myself; and then I had to make a poster, and I just didn’t feel as good after that.