Class of 2020: You Might Be Dust In the Wind, But You Are Blessed and Lucky

Dear Class of 2020,

I hate to say it, but you really got the short end of the lollipop stick.

This was supposed to be an exciting, scary time for you. For eighth-graders, you’re finally escaping the hell that is middle school. For high schoolers, ditto, plus you’re starting a whole new journey in your life. College grads, well, this just bites. So I’m here to tell you something you have learned way too early: life is damned unfair. You probably already learned this lesson already, but this is an extra special lesson no one could’ve seen. Yet somehow you have to just go with it, say “it is what it is.” Easier said than done.

First off, here’s a blast from the past:

Yes, this is me, class of 1991. Don’t you love the hair? And that crystal, groovy man!

If I am going to be ruthlessly honest, my senior year I was exhausted, irritable, crabby, and sad. I was at school every morning at 7:10 for Zero Period (journalism) then creative writing, brunch break, economics/government, English, Study Hall, and Science, out at 2:50. I worked fifteen hours a week at the local library, shelving books. That’s a fifty-hour week. Weekends when I wasn’t working, I was sleeping. I did this schedule because so many people said “Oh, you can’t do journalism” “Oh, you can’t do creative writing” “oh, you can’t work a real job.” I had this determination, this stubbornness, that said “Watch me, pal.” And I did. But it was at a huge emotional cost to myself.

The thing was I thought at the end of the year, it will be worth it. I knew I was going to go to community college in the fall. I was at peace with that. But I thought I was going to be praised beyond belief for my sacrifices, for working so hard. There was a special creative writing award that I knew was going to be mine. A month before graduation, I received an invitation to come to the senior awards ceremony. Aha! I would be very humble when I accepted my award, let me tell you. This would cement my place as the best writer my school ever saw. They would miss me when I was gone.

I didn’t win the award. I was crushed. The award I did win was a letter of accommodation from the English department. But I was angry. I didn’t confront anyone, though I did have a bad meltdown one day during lunch when I started crying and couldn’t stop for about fifteen minutes. If I could go back, a la Peggy Sue Got Married, and relive that last month, I would’ve acted differently. I would’ve been kinder. I would’ve said “Hey, it’s okay. Do you really want to be one of those people that peaked in high school?” I so wish I could’ve told my creative writing teacher “It’s okay. I was a brat. You gave it to the right person.” I was eighteen years old and truly believed that terrible myth: Senior year of high school is supposed to be the best year of your life. I felt like Judge Reinhold in Fast Times at Ridgemont High snapping at his guidance counselor: “I’m waiting for the good times to start.”

I skipped my Senior Ball, mostly because I was too tired to go. I also didn’t feel like buying a dress (if you saw 1991 prom dresses, you understand why. They were way too ugly) Tickets were fifty dollars, which I could swing, but I would have to find a date, then there was dinner, and I just wasn’t into it. Yet I kept remembering what Iona said in Pretty in Pink: “I have this girlfriend who didn’t go to hers, and every once in a while, she gets this really terrible feeling — you know like something is missing. She checks her purse, and then she checks her keys. She counts her kids, she goes crazy, and then she realizes that nothing is missing. She decided it was side effects from skipping the prom.”

The last week of school was even worse. I got sick. I managed to turn in my last Creative Writing portfolio, pass my finals. I lost my class ring. My landlady decided to paint my townhouse that week so I was breathing in paint fumes. I would go to bed, crying, thinking when is it going to be fun? When am I going to get my pat on the back? I felt like a big huge failure. I didn’t win any big awards, any scholarships. I didn’t get to go to Senior Ball. At graduation practice, we were yelled at by parent volunteers for not taking this seriously enough. I was just ready to be done.

The actual graduation day was lovely. My best friend picked me up, then “Dust in the Wind” by Kansas started playing on the radio. Of course.

You might know this version better:

We started singing along, laughing. We loved the song, plus here we were on our way to a wonderful event and this incredibly depressing song comes on telling us it was all hopeless. Why not enjoy it? After graduation, I watched the video my mom’s friend made of the ceremony, making sure it wasn’t a dream. I graduated. I was done. Yet I still felt like I failed. I failed because high school wasn’t the best time of my life. I didn’t feel like I had a happy ending. I felt like that for years.

Here’s the deal: I’m sorry. I’m sorry you don’t get graduation ceremonies. I’m sorry if you’re not getting to be a star, the pat in the back. It’s simply not fair. But you’re going to be okay. I promise you. You will tell the younger generation that will come after you “You think you have had it hard, kid? Not only did I survive the Corona Virus Pandemic in 2020, but I also didn’t have a graduation ceremony!” You can milk this for what it’s worth.

Sometimes life simply doesn’t turn out the way you want it. You don’t get into the college you wanted to get into. You might’ve received nothing but thin envelopes acceptance time. You didn’t find your Blaine or Duckie or Andie, you didn’t get to do a big dance. But by God, you’re still here. You’re alive. You can read all your assigned reading for college ahead of time, so you can be ahead of the game when you get there. You can figure out what you want to do next with your life. Or if you’re just too exhausted, I give you permission to binge-watch The Simpsons on Disney Plus.

This isn’t the end of your journey. You are resting up, figuring out what to do next. When the time comes, you are going to be strong, ready for whatever comes at you. If you survive this emotionally/physically exhausting time, you can do anything.

We might be dust in the wind, but also remember 10,000 Maniacs when Natalie Merchant sang: These are days you’ll remember/Never before and never since/I promise Will the whole world be warm as this And as you feel it You’ll know it’s true That you are blessed and lucky It’s true that you Are touched by something That will grow in you, in you.

Let the wind take you where you need to go next. You are blessed and lucky. Vote in November. Keep on keeping on.

love love love

Jennifer