Chester the cheetah once said, “it ain’t easy being cheesy”. The same can be said about high school, except “cheesy” is replaced with “a sixth year senior”. Now don’t get me wrong, high school and all that education stuff is great, if you’re a nerd. My greatest memories aren’t winning spelling bees or getting an A on a geography quiz, my best memories of high school involve getting totally primal with some of my bros and hassling that lame security guard at the mall. The Bradster isn’t one to get all mushy and sentimental over some B.S like high school so don’t expect me to talk about how much I loved this place. ‘Cause I didn’t. Everyone always talks about how leaving high school opens doors to new opportunity, but for me it’s like they’re opening the door to my cage and letting me fly free. And I’m not going to waste my gift of flight like one of those stupid geese that flies into a jet engine, it just ain’t my style. The Finchmiester is going to fly free out into the real world, ain’t nobody gonna clip my wings. And that’s all high school seemed to be about, holding the Bradster back and not letting him fly. Or graduate. But I totally got my act together, this sixth senior year turned out to be just what I needed. In fact, this turned out to be one of the most gnar years of my life so far. I finally passed my survey of P.E class, got a new steering wheel cover for the probe, told my manager to shove it and most importantly, convinced the manager at KFC to lower the price of the Snacker. But can I attribute any of these acts of greatness to my high school education? Of course not. All they’ve taught me in this hell hole is how to measure triangles, make scotcharoos, and to make powerpoints. When’s the Bradster going to use any of those skills? I’m not some domestic Betty who sits at home all day making scotcharoos and powerpoints about equilateral triangles for her husband all day. If I ran this school, classes would be a whole lot different, and more useful. I’d make it mandatory for all students to be able to install new seat covers into their rides, or teach them how to make a complete meal out of some bread crumbs and a can of expired gravy. My advice to all of you yet to be seniors is to keep on truckin’, take it easy, and make some noise on your way out. Or at least steal some bomb a** computers from the media center your last day.