By Kelsey Scism 
Here’s what we know about senior year: It goes by fast. It’s full. It’s emotional. It’s busy. Each successive last pushes you closer to the edge of something you can’t quite see.
But as the mom of a senior, I’ve noticed something else—something I don’t think we’re talking about. Senior year is a lot for parents, but it’s a lot for our kids too. In the middle of our own emotions, we can unintentionally look past theirs. Our seniors long to be seen. Here’s a glimpse of what I’m noticing.
The sting of rejection is a lot. Imagine spending hours filling out forms, writing essays, or making videos only to find out you weren’t good enough. Yes, you and I know the scholarship world is competitive and our kids can’t base their value on the decision of a committee or some random formula for determining who’s worth how much. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.
Scholarships don’t offer the only opportunity for rejection during senior year. What about the rejection that comes in the form of missing the cut-off score by just one point on those standardized tests that we still somehow use to define the worthiness of a student? (And then attach those scores to money.) Or the rejection of being a student-athlete for four years and feeling like you’ve put in your time only to maintain your seat on the bench. Or the it’s not a popularity contest (but it really is) votes for queen of this and king of that. Or the auditions for a spot on the cast, choir, band, team. Every opportunity for rejection amplified by that last-chance feeling of senior year.
Sometimes it seems as if our seniors are more than ready for those last chances to be over. Senioritis is a real condition. And they’re not shy about expressing their desire for time to move faster and their readiness to move on. “I can’t wait to get out of here,” they declare in exasperation. Despite what all the signatures in your yearbook say, high school is not the “best years of your life” for everyone. Sometimes senior year is a matter of survival, trudging through the last chapter of a book they’re ready to close, jumping through hoops they no longer really care about. There’s a longing for something new, something different, a readiness to shed the skin they’ve lived in for the past 18 years and grow something new and beautiful that fits and feels better.
That excitement is paired with the anxiety of not feeling fully prepared to dive headfirst into the adult world. How will I pay for college? What if I can’t find a job? What if my next step looks different than what everyone expects? What if disappointment is the only thing I take with me after high school?
As parents, we often question, “Are they ready?” But can you remember the intensity of “Am I ready?” It’s similar to the anxiety we felt as we walked out of the hospital with their tiny bodies nestled in those giant carseats. There was no turning back. Our lives were ordered one way when we walked into those doors and a completely different way as we walked out. The same sentiment is true for our seniors. And as excited as they may seem to be about that change, fear lies just beneath the surface.
For many of our seniors, goodbye is constantly on their hearts. Even if their next step is in their own backyard, the relationships they have today will look different tomorrow. People they’ve seen on a daily basis for the last 18 years—parents, siblings, grandparents—will suddenly be people they only see on weekends or maybe just a few times a semester. Friends they’ve grown up with who have walked into every “next step” with them may no longer be physically near.
And even for those seniors who haven’t had close friendships during high school, the familiarity of knowing what to expect is fading away. Their goodbye hug wraps one arm around the thrill of adventure and the other around anticipated loneliness, creating an awkward dance of stepping into newness while lingering in familiarity.
If you love a senior, be gentle with their hearts. You don’t have to remember what it was like to be them to see them. Make room for all their feelings—no matter how contradictory they appear to be. Give them space and hold them tight. Most importantly, love them and make sure they know that’s the one thing that will never change.
by Jennifer Kennedy 
by Colin Morris 
by Savannah Lyon 
