On Wednesday 30th June, and after a day of painstakingly cutting out the bunting with my friends, the Class of 2010 graduated from QPCS.
It was a nice ceremony - not too formal, some great speeches (especially Dominic Self's which was unanimously agreed to be awesome) and virtually the entire year showed up. I got given two awards - one for Spanish (oh, the irony) and one for... I'm not actually sure what it's called because the introduction was so complementary I wasn't really listening assumed that it wasn't me but something along the lines of 'Generally Awesome In The Opinions Of Your Teachers Award'. And I nearly cried. And the after-party was cool too, in a real grown-up pub drinking real grown-up beer with a lovely view of... Kilburn High Road at twilight.
But graduating was a far less emotional experience than expected. I think in part it's because I'm completely ready to leave; although it hasn't really hit me yet, I know that I'm as ready as I'll ever be to leave (school, home is a different story for later). I also think it's because this is the second time we've done the crying 'oh my everyone's leaving thing' and, even though most of us stayed, it felt more real at the end of Year 11. And we learnt moving apart wasn't the end of the world, some of my best friends don't go to QPCS. (A startling correction: this is, mostly, no longer true maybe aside for this guy and a few others)
It also may not be so sad because I have come to the realisation that you cannot stay in contact with everyone. Now, don't get me wrong, I like to think of myself as vaguely popular. As Charlotte likes to say, we're pretty standard and I don't think many people (if any) actively don't like me. But there are people I like and who like me, friends if you will, who I will lose. It's inevitable. There are, when you boil it down, a select few people I feel it is paramount to keep in contact with and I will try to make sure that happens because they are the loveliest people ever. And for our generation it'll be easier to keep in contact, what with all the blasted social networking. Is it sad that in a few years I won't be able to remember the names of people I have seen every day for the last seven years? A little. But the people who matter will never be forgotten and I will (I hope) have no (woo, subconscious slip, I meant *new*) friends and acquaintances to fill the gaps.
But, on reflection, I am incredibly sad to never be going back to QPCS. Our year has, throughout Sixth Form, become an incredibly close group of people. No one is alone, no rivalries, no cliques, any group of people who end up sitting together can chat and laugh and @ reply each other. But more than that, I know I am incredibly lucky to have had the experience I have had at QPCS.
Like Dominic said in his speech, when people here you go to QPCS, they give you this almost pitying glance and seem to assume you did it out of the goodness of your heart. I did it because I wanted to walk to school and the other school close enough hadn't been built yet. That's it; no agenda, no fuss. People seem to assume you're being charitable, as if you must be lost within a mass of other students and forgotten by everyone. But I have never been forgotten: I have had some amazing experiences, a phenomenal set of school trips, some top-class teachers, a genuine feeling of community. No other school could possibly have given me more.
Over and above that, I have been lucky to meet this group of people. Over the last couple of years, it has become increasingly obvious to me that people like me don't always (or often) have such a great secondary school experience. I should clarify; by people like me, I mean nerdy, academic, awkward, politically active and vocal etc. Most people as nerdlike as me find it difficult to fit in, and I am not attempting to say no-one has felt isolated at QPCS for the same reasons. I know I have sometimes. But on the whole, I have met the most incredible people ever - friends as nerdy and weird and political as me, although not always in the same ways. I have had my horizons broadened by those so different from me and enriched by those with whom I have so much in common. This is a uniquely positive school experience and for it I will be eternally grateful.
So if in three years, they ask me back to give a speech (and I really hope they don't) I will tell the class of 2013 that school isn't always the best days of your life, that some people look back and see only the hormones and the angst. But when I look back, I see seven years spent with the most amazing people doing the most amazing things. And the bar is set pretty high for the next set of best years of my life, whether it be Cambridge or Exeter.
