Graduation is the transition from being a student to being an adult. It is an amazing yet strange feeling that can leave you with a sense of identity crisis. For thirteen years or so of your life, you have been a student, and now you have a newfound freedom. The value of your voice changes, as now, in the eyes of the law at least, you have a say. You can participate in elections, you can sign a contract, and you are now expected to be responsible. Yet there feels like there is little assistance or guidance to that process, in which teens need the most support from their families to help them navigate. 

I’ve had a multitude of obstacles, with my main obstacles being battling my depression, anxiety, and PTSD. I have somewhat been met with support from the schools I’ve been to, but I’ve also felt neglected by the system. Growing up as someone who likely has an undiagnosed learning disability, I’ve been treated harshly by teachers who did not understand what may have been wrong with me, and have treated me like I am lazy and simply do not care. That is the farthest from the truth. Education is incredibly important to me, but when the world feels like it is caving in at every ‘minuscule’ issue I face, when I constantly feel like I am on a 60%, when I cannot get myself out of bed to do things even I enjoy, it is not a matter of laziness. I do not believe anyone is fully lazy; rather, their mental health is unexplored.

I’ve struggled a lot with my schooling, but I’ve had some very influential teachers in my life despite issues I’ve had with others. As an anxious little kid, my kindergarten teacher was incredibly patient with me. My first-grade teacher, however, was loud and impatient. She ran the classroom like a military room, and for an anxious child who was around arguing and yelling at home, it made me terrified to go to class. I remember that I would have my lowercase D and B’s mixed up. I rarely ask for help, but she was nearby. I asked her if I was spelling correctly, and she snapped at me, telling me in a condescending tone, that “the letter line is right above the SMART board. If you forget, look up at it. It’s not that hard,” she said, before turning away to help another student, whom it felt like she valued much more as a person than me. I find it hard to speak; I do not speak unless spoken to often, and it feels as if I am doing something “wrong” to speak. I felt like this as a small child, too, and this teacher only solidified my crippling anxiety. Previously, when I was in kindergarten, I would get 6 and 2 written in cursive mixed up. My kindergarten teacher would help me and give me a paper to reference the differences… instead of yelling.

Because of how quiet I am and how I often do not understand sarcasm or sometimes social cues, I was severely bullied. I can’t remember how many times I was in the principal’s office with my mom next to me, begging them to do something. And something was never done. It only further demotivated me from coming to school. One day, I cried so much at the end of fifth grade that my dad said I would not go back to that school. I did homeschooling for sixth grade, and I was so lonely that I went to The Nokesville School for the rest of sixth grade. Then, the COVID-19 pandemic hit in seventh grade.

In eighth grade, I was harassed on the bus by another young man who was also in my engineering class. He had pointed out the fact that I had painted nails, and therefore, I could not be a man. I tried to have an honest discussion with him about how being trans is for me, but he did not want an honest discussion. I did not understand that he did not want an honest discussion, and I became incredibly frustrated as I honestly attempted to express and make him understand. I couldn’t, because he didn’t wish to understand. I couldn’t stop crying, and I went home that night and ripped off my acrylics, cut my hair further shorter than I liked, and I vowed I’d stop presenting in any way that could be conceived as feminine. I needed to conform if I wanted to be respected. I wasn’t “trying hard” enough.

Mr. Yearsley was my choir teacher at The Nokesville School in eighth grade. He was incredibly kind. As a 12-year-old trans kid, I asked him for advice on deepening my voice, and he was extremely interested in the topic. He mentioned he had transgender friends and he wanted to help support me however he could. He hugged me, and I couldn’t help but tear up. I lack much of a relationship with my father, and to have that kind of support from a male figure, felt amazing. Later in the year, when I was having relationship issues and had been assaulted by that partner, he comforted me when he found me crying in the hallway. When I moved to Brentsville District High School, I joined his band class. 

Ms. Elsasser, at Brentsville, further drove my obsessive need for knowledge. Ms. Elsasser was my World History teacher, and she loved to teach. She absolutely loved history, and it showed in the pure passion she would teach with. She was supportive and understanding, and she listened. It made me even more interested than I already was in history, and it also led me to explore science and discover my love for evolution, and my returning childhood interest in dinosaurs and prehistoric creatures. I stay awake at night sometimes in frustration that I will never have the answer to everything. Humans will never have the answer to everything, and in a way, that’s beautiful. To wonder shows how special humanity really is.

I’d like to have some hopeful paragraph about how I overcame all of my issues, how I improved my attendance, how I’m no longer depressed, and I don’t have constant anxiety, but I cannot. I still struggle every day, and there is a part of me that fears I will not be able to work or participate in daily life. However, I have an amazing therapist, and I believe that the stress of school being gone will allow me to become a productive adult. When I feel I have control, I am rather timely, even early. I prefer to get things done. I honestly can’t wait to graduate and go to work. I have this dream job that is very within reach, and all I need to do is graduate. This store, a bird store, which I’ve made friendly with the owner and manager, will be a very motivating place for me to work. A bird store might sound a little silly, but I love animals, especially birds, and I enjoy the environment at the store very much. I own two parrots (shoutout Bo and Dallas), and they are what keep me going.

I’m not writing all this to throw myself a pity party or to whine. I’m writing this for awareness that people who are mentally struggling and may have an undiagnosed learning disability still struggle daily in school environments. One time, when I was in fifth grade, a special needs teacher at my old elementary school said something very disturbing to me. Since I was higher functioning, he said to me that another student was a “dumb heifer.” I still don’t remember the context of that; however, I’m not sure there’s anything that can justify that.

When I was in ninth grade at my old high school, I was told by an administrator that “sometimes people just need a five-year high school career.” Well, I’m excited to graduate (with a four-year high school career, thanks), I’m excited to work, and I want to make my mark on the world. So honestly, despite everything I’ve experienced that was negative, the positive is pretty damn good. Thank you, Osbourn, for the support I’ve been shown and the compassion, the understanding that it is difficult for me to do daily life, and the understanding that I am trying. I’ve been incredibly lucky.