Before each school year begins, I dream and make plans in my head, determined that this will be the year. This year I will be a perfect student. This year I will be successful. This year I will achieve straight A's. This year I will be the girl that comes to class every day prepared and ready to take in as much knowledge as I can and contribute something to the class in turn. I will be the student who has all her assignments done perfectly and on time, without complaint. This will be my year. The Golden Age of Hannah Rozenblat.

And most years, I disappoint myself in some way or another. Perhaps I did not do as well as I could have, or I did not accomplish as much as I wished to when I started out the school year.

Well, I thought to myself last night, as I went to sleep early to be ready for school this morning, This is my last year in this school. This is the last time I can start a year that way, with that drive and that enthusiasm I always felt at each beginning.

But instead of feeling motivated and enthusiastic, I felt uneasy. I always thought I could accomplish it all and succeed if I just put in effort, but now I know that while I can be successful, I can never be a perfect student. There is no such thing as a perfect student, really. We can all strive for our own levels of 'perfection', but in the end, we're just good students. We are more knowledgeable, perhaps, after putting our efforts into our studies, we are more aware of the world around us and of everything in this world, and we might have the marks to prove it, but there cannot be a 'perfect' student.

So as I started my senior year, I told myself that I just want to get as much as I can out of it, instead of seeking perfection. I want to give it my best -- or as close to it as I can without driving myself mad.

This is my last year here. I want to make it count.

I remember when I was in one of the younger grades in elementary school (perhaps in second grade) and I was thinking about how many years I had left. I had only just started, and the end seemed so far away to me. Twelfth grade was something so foreign I could not even imagine it, and I wondered if I would ever really get there, or if the years would pass by so slowly that I would feel as if I'd never be there. And at first, the years did pass by very slowly. I counted them down diligently. Another seven years to go until I am free. Another five years to go until I can leave. Just three more years and I am done. Oh, look, hey, I only have two years left! Time sure has flown.... And now, the countdown is down to one year. Except that I am not really counting down now, because I am not sure yet how I feel about it ending. Yes, I've waited for this year for so long, but now that I am here and I know that there is no looking back, I am somehow nervous.

I suppose that is why I want to make the most out of this year. It is my last, and I don't want to look back on it with any regrets or memories of missed opportunities.

So next time you hear me complaining about the heavy load of assignments or the amount of material I have to study for midterms or finals, kindly remind me of this.

For all of you who have also started a new school year this month, I wish you the best of luck and lots of success!