What's After High School?

            Upon entering Ms. Seresnky’s room one morning, I habitually looked at her white board to see whose words she had chosen to inspire us with that day. I always thoroughly enjoy the quotes that she chooses however I could not contain my excitement when I saw that she had written my favorite quote by J.R.R. Tolkien. An obsessive fan of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, one can imagine my thrill when the books’ author’s words stared at me from across the room. However, my passion for his work does not solely account for my love for the quote. J.R.R. Tolkien famously states that “Not all those who wander are lost”; a set of seven words that I have always believed in, however in the midst of my senior year, feel that they describe me, as well as my classmates, now more than ever. As the class of 2013 entered junior year, we experienced the bombardment of questions regarding our college choice and what we wish to study. As mere sixteen and seventeen year olds we wondered how anyone could expect us to know the answers. Now as we enter senior year, we begin to gain a sense of ourselves and what we want to pursue, yet we still face indecision. We still wander, wondering how we will decide between the infinite opportunities that college and life will present us with, feeling stuck in an “undecided” rut. Tolkien believes that the ability to search without knowledge of a definite end does not mean that we do not have a sense of direction. To me, his quote means that my classmates and I might not have any idea of what to do with our upcoming new lives, but that does not mean that it will end in a frantic search for a way out of a journey gone astray. However, the future that seemed light-years away now pounces on us with the ferocity of an orc in battle as we all search for our place in the scary world outside of high school. Similarly to Frodo leaving the Shire, we must all leave Chagrin and go on our own journey. Wandering often leads us down the right path if we allow the fear of becoming lost inspire us to push us into the unknown.

Popping the Bubble

            Not many things change in Chagrin. Yes, the store on the corner has gone from Ben & Jerry’s to Lemon Falls, and Town Hall becomes Holly Hall once a year, but when it comes to drastic change, our town loves its consistency. Our school has not drifted for from the Chagrin of the 60s, evident from last year’s then and now comparison in the yearbook. Even classes remain pretty steady throughout the years as few new kids trickle in the system, daring to try and infiltrate the Chagrin lifestyle. As a lifer (someone who has attended Chagrin for 13 years) I have noticed all of these changes, or lack thereof. I have lived in the same town, gone to the same school with the same kids, and lived relatively the same way my whole life. Sounds exhilarating right? Some look in at Chagrin with criticism, “fondly” referring to it as The Bubble, noting Chagrin’s lack of change and diversity as detrimental and restricting. I never have seen a problem with it and have in fact loved my time in Chagrin, yet after reading Donald Barthelme’s short story, The Balloon, I began to rethink. In addition to the similarity of the balloon to the bubble, I also found many more similarities between the story and my own life. Barthelme discusses a balloon’s presence in Manhattan, New York and how it covers the whole city leaving people to accept it or wonder its existence there. He juxtaposes the different thought process of the people in Manhattan as some felt “sheltered, warmed, as never before” while others reported feeling “constrained, a “heavy” feeling” (3). I believe that the balloon symbolizes conformity and an unchanging life in a city, or in my case, a small town with citizens ready to enjoy or resent these qualities. Indirectly characterizing two very different groups of people as secure and stifled, Barthelme asserts that change can leave people feeling different ways. This made me think about how I truly feel about my stable, safe years in Chagrin. While I appreciate and enjoy living in the bubble as some people do under the balloon, this story made me think what else waits for me outside of my comfort zone. It makes me wonder if my bubble “sullied the…clear and radiant…sky” or if it would turn out bleak and without promise (2). After reading this short story and discussing with my group, I have come to the conclusion that although I love my town and feel grateful to live here, the only way I will truly know the answers to my questions lies in my ability to step away from what I know and become familiar with the unknown. I must pop the bubble, as some wished to deflate the balloon, and see what lies outside of my protected world.