Matt Albano Multimedia Writing and Rhetoric 9/9/11 Writing and Rhetoric I stumble upon the hallowed grounds

for the final time, awe struck by the beauty that surrounds me. As I make my way to the front of a line of students, I slowly walk past all of my friends, greeting a few. It is becoming a reality; I am graduating from a place I have grown to know and love: Delbarton. For the past four years, I saw each and every one of these students at their best and their worst. Whether it was watching some win state titles or some sitting through dreadful detentions, each student has left a mark in my mind. However, on this day, despite all of the relationships each student has shared over the years, we are all uniformly adorned in matching navy blazers, white dress shirts, khaki pants, and of course the ever desired graduation tie. Like a gold medal, the green and silver striped ties dangle from each neck marking each students merit. The sun glistens on its silky surface and provides a feeling of warmth and comfort that I desperately need in order to follow through with the days demands. Feeling this radiance, I begin to feel uneasy and my legs begin to shake. I am not ready to leave this stage of my life just yet. In an attempt to forget about my dilemma, I look back at my 100 classmates and force a smile. I call us the survivors, for we are the toughest students that persevered through four years of the most rigorous academic and athletic programs in the state of New Jersey. Nearly 20 students failed to make it to this point and

graduate along side us. I slowly turn my head and admire the landscape of our senior garden for the last time, taking in the lush appearance of the shrubbery and the welcoming sound of chirping birds. The atmosphere is very relaxing but it also seems to be saying its last goodbyes to me. I remember trotting in to this garden for the first time merely nine months prior. Excitement and anticipation for the new school year filled the air while the rising sun exposed a layer of dew frosted over the freshly cut grass. Recalling this scenery, I look around and notice a sharp contrast between the morning setting of this day nine months ago and the mid day setting I am currently immersed in. Noticing this juxtaposition and realizing the time that has passed since that day, I begin to feel uneasy and chills fly down my spine. Fear soon takes over my body and I become slightly paralyzed. Moving seems impossible. However, these sensations are soon interrupted by orders from the elderly, frail headmaster to begin our trek up the church for graduation ceremonies. Like soldiers, us uniformed survivors begin our brave 300-yard journey to our futures. As I lead the group across the curvy asphalt path, I remember the many cold and rainy days I was forced to make this same tedious trip to the church for afternoon mass. Realizing this would be my final trip to this sacred site, I being to further understand the severity of my current situation and a feeling of fear sets in. However, my daydream is interrupted by a glimpse of movement ahead. I look forwards and see the faculty adorned in black robes and multicolored scarves begin their walk to the church as well. I pick out my wrestling coach from the crowd. He smiles and fixes his blue glassed over eyes upon me. I remember hoisting the

schools first ever wrestling state title trophy with him in front of 6,000 fans only three months prior and begin to tear up as well. I start to realize just how much he means to me and how much I will miss him. I overtake my sorrow and continue stepping. Left, right, left, right, left, right. Everything seems so surreal. The grounds are completely silent. All that can be heard is the clicking of our black shoes upon the coarse dark path. We draw closer and closer to the ever so familiar church and I begin to further understand my predicament. I am not ready to leave the comfort Delbarton has provided me for the past four years. This college preparatory school has enriched every aspect of my being. It has instilled in me values that I will never forget, and it has also provided me with friendships with both students and faculty that are sure to last forever. Whether it was the personal integrity I learned in Ms. Harmaans American history class or the focus and determination I learned in Mr. Thompsons AP European History class, my character was enriched through four years of toil. I then peer down and gaze at our school crest and motto :succisia verecit which decorate my tie in an orderly fashion. The words ring in my head and force me realize that although leaving this place will be difficult, I am in fact ready for the challenge. I am a perfect example of our motto, which translates to what gets cut down grows back stronger. I entered the school a cocky, selfish freshman. However, through many trials and errors as well as the demanding nature of the school, I was humbled and formed into a man. I then look around only to realize that we have arrived at the large oak doors to the church. I glare at the thick, metallic handles before tightly gripping them and

forcing the doors open. I slowly strut into foyer of the church and place my fingers into the large basin of holy water before making the sign of the cross, a motion that became ever so familiar during my four years at this Catholic school. I begin to slow my breathing and calm myself down. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The tiny cinderblock vestibule soon becomes crowded with students and faculty alike as the ceremony draws closer and closer. I ready myself to accept the responsibilities of being a man and I take a large breath, puffing out my chest in the process. I wipe all emotion off of my face and erase the sorrow from my memory. I then admire the avant-garde appearance of the church foyer for the last time and then, the sound of an organ pierces the silence of the church with a welcoming hymn. I race back four years and remember the first time I heard this hymn during a welcoming mass for my freshman class. I mindfully interrupt my thoughts and focus on the situation at hand. I fix my tie and readjust my navy jacket. I peer forward and await my future. Then, after a brief interlude, I receive a subtle instruction to walk and begin leading my classmates into the rest of our lives.