Becoming a Senior Again
Being a senior used to mean one thing to me: freedom. When I was a senior in high school, I thought I had reached the pinnacle of independence. I was finally at the top of the food chain in a small building that had felt like my entire world. I was preparing to step into college life, which I pictured as an endless stream of late nights, friendships, and possibilities. Now, four years later, I am a senior again, but this time in college. Strangely, the word “senior” feels entirely different. The same label holds two different lifetimes of meaning.
High school senior year was a blur of countdowns. Everyone seemed to be counting down to prom, graduation, and college decisions. It was a year marked by endings but mostly seen through the lens of beginnings. My dreams were wide and untethered then; I wanted to study abroad, do something with writing, and gain more confidence in my abilities. At that point, I didn’t have an idea of what success looked like for me, only the glamorous outlines drawn from today’s media. I pictured myself in a career I loved (having no idea what that was), surrounded by friends, and living in some city that seemed larger than life. My feelings about the future were naive in the best way. I thought if I went to college with a major I loved and intentions for that, then I would inevitably end up where I wanted to be.
Being a senior in college, however, has sobered and sharpened those dreams. The world is not a straight line. It is a maze, full of unexpected turns, setbacks, and moments of growth I could never have imagined at 18. College has taught me that finding myself is less about one big “aha” moment and more about small, daily acts of choosing who I want to be. The version of myself who graduated high school would barely recognize the person I am now, not because I’ve abandoned those dreams, but because they have shifted into something deeper, more textured, and more realistic.
One of the biggest differences between my two “senior years” is how I measure success. In high school, success was grades, college acceptances, scholarships, and test scores. It was external validation, tangible proof from authority that I was “good enough.” College has flipped that script for me. While grades still matter, I’ve come to realize that success is more internal. It’s about resilience, growth, and self-knowledge. It’s about showing up for myself on the days I’d rather quit. It’s about the friendships I’ve built, the lessons I’ve learned outside of classrooms, and the strength I’ve found when things didn’t go according to plan.
The world itself feels different now too. As a high school senior, I saw the world through the lens of possibility. It was big, exciting, and waiting for me. Now, I see it as complicated and often overwhelming, but also beautiful in its complexity. Studying abroad and traveling more taught me more than I ever expected, and showed the responsibilities we all share in shaping the future. My younger self thought mostly about what the world could give me; my current self thinks more about what I can give back to the world.
Emotionally, my two senior years could not be more different. In high school, I was restless, impatient, and eager to leave, to grow, and to start again. I believed I was ready for adulthood long before I truly was. Now, I feel a mix of gratitude and bittersweet nostalgia. I know this chapter is ending, and while I am excited for the future, I also understand how fleeting these years are. I don’t want to sprint toward graduation like I once did; I want to savor the small, ordinary moments because I know they are irreplaceable. I sometimes wish I could go back and do it all over again and be more present, because looking back, I was so focused on what I would be doing now.
I am now consistently reminded that growth is not always about radical change, but about the journey and perspective. The distance between 18 and 21 is not enormous in years, but it is enormous in experience and maturity. High school taught me how to dream. College has taught me how to refine those dreams into goals, how to fail without crumbling, and how to believe in myself in a way that is both humble and strong.
If I could speak to my high school senior self, I would tell them this: life will not unfold the way you expect, and that’s okay. You will change, and so will your dreams, but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your way. It means you are growing. You will stumble, but those stumbles will shape you more than any win ever could. The nerves won’t go away; they might even get worse, but you have gained skills to handle them. Don’t be afraid of uncertainty; it is not the enemy, but the space where growth happens. And if you’re scared, do it scared, you’re allowed.
Now that I’m in my last year of college, I realize that the title “senior” isn’t just about endings or beginnings; it’s about your point of view. It’s about standing at the edge of one chapter, looking toward the next, and acknowledging the person you’ve become along the way. Being a senior in high school meant wanting to become someone, trying to “find myself”. Being a senior in college means realizing that I already am someone, and that who I am will continue to evolve. Four years from now, I will probably look back on this version of myself with the same mix of fondness and surprise and yet again realize how important change and growth can be.
