National Post (National Edition)
The prom is gone: My high school drama lacks a grand finale.
The dress was set, the friend group decided, the afterparty planned. But, for this year’s seniors, there’ll be a big gap in their high school ending
In December, I started my search for a prom dress. I had been accumulating a Pinterest board filled with styles that were so vastly different from each other that, walking into the store, I had no clue what I was looking for. Luckily, my friend walked up to the first rack and pulled a navy blue gown, held it up in front of my face, and said, “This one.” I tried it on and fell in love with it, but refused to buy the first one I had found. A month later, I realized that it was impossible to find one I loved more.
After weeks of searching for loose change in between couch cushions, and lots of bargaining with my parents, I brought the dress home, anxious to wear it at my school’s spring prom. Now, it sits in the back of my closet, becoming layered with dust. It is very likely I’ll never wear it to my high school prom.
With the world being swept into what feels like another dimension, everyone is weighed down with the knowledge that all plans are conditional. We might plan a trip this summer, but only if it’s possible to cross borders, provincial or international. A visit with family members would be nice, but who knows if it will be safe? More and more, we are having to conclude that cancellation is the safest bet.
The high school graduating class of 2020 feels this in its own way, with the elimination of sports seasons, class musicals, proms and graduation ceremonies.
As a Grade 12 student, I feel beaten down by the lack of a proper ending to my high school career. And after months of communicating with my friends and classmates, by text or over FaceTime, Zoom, Instagram and Snapchat (it’s very possible we have too many options), I don’t know a single senior who doesn’t feel the same. Some have even been criticized for expressing sadness over the cancellation of prom and graduation in a pandemic. No one is comparing our lack of a senior spring season to the drastically more serious effects of COVID, but the loss of these experiences remains painful.
Graduation and prom are more than pointless traditions. In times of late-night cramming and hours upon hours of studying, students imagine the joy and relief they will feel when they eventually bring the tassel to the other side, while smiling at friends and family. It may be cheesy, but it’s still symbolic.
I looked forward to the excitement of dressing up with friends and going to prom together, of taking gimmicky pictures and seeing everyone’s outfits as we all stepped dramatically out of rent-by-the-hour limos.
Some schools are attempting to recreate grad or prom online, or even with drive-by diploma handouts. Some have tentative plans for fall prom and graduation ceremonies. While these efforts are deeply appreciated by students, they’re not a perfect replacement.
Going to college, university or any other posthigh school venture is new and terrifying, and it’s difficult to make such drastic moves without feeling like our brains are going through the dryer. We are preparing for the possibility that we will be starting the next chapter without having finished the previous one.
On the last day of school before closures started, I remember everyone hugging, not yet riddled with anxiety at human touch, and jokingly telling each other, “Don’t die, okay?” We all thought it was only supposed to be for two weeks.
Now, through the exhaustion of not being able to look friends in the face or hug people in the hallway, the thing we thought we understood before is becoming more clear: prom and graduation were going to be our final moments to say goodbye.
So, yes, the crucial ending moments of high school are disappearing. But I don’t doubt we’ll still be there to lift each other up in these scary times — until we get the chance to say goodbye the way we wish we could.