All the world’s a school,
And all the men and women merely students,
They have their orientations and graduations,
And students who change throughout their tenure,
Their phases being seven ages. At first the kindergartener,
Cheery and yearning for the teacher’s attention.
Then, the middle schooler with his light backpack
And young innocent mind, running like cheetah
Happily at recess. And then the junior high student,
Voice cracking like balloon, with an awkward conversation,
Made to his crush. Next the eight grader,
Teeming with confidence, and styled like a celebrity,
Envious of peers, imperfect, yet quick in judgement,
Striving for the popular reputation
Even once graduation has passed. And then the freshman
In big naive eyes, furnished with designer glasses,
With opinions all around, and stubble of poorly shaven,
Full of stupidity, and a new world to fit into,
And so he begins his journey. The sixth ages leads
To understanding and bonds,
With jokes on tongue, and lovers in mind,
Their youthful innocence lost forever, a world too small,
For college draws near, and their thirst for independence,
Flares up in their hearts, like the radios
And music in their car. Last scene of all,
That concludes this long stressful history,
Is graduation songs and the taste of freedom
Sans books, sans papers, sans clothes, sans everything.

Jack Lucas ’19