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  • Madeline Feldner

Thankful for U9

I’m thankful for U9.

U9, a beautiful time enclosed inside our panther-armored planner.

When I first realized U9 championed U8 as the last period of the day, I sat terrified at another class opportunity that would derail my senior privileges from allowing me to leave before 3:30. 9 seemed multitudes bigger than 8.

But, as the school year commenced, I began to love U9.

I satisfactorily can always cross off U9 on my planner to psychologically make myself feel very productive with only three other boxes to cross off for on my daily homework checklist.

I can fill the 45 minutes of U9 with sports early dismissals and team sing-alongs to “Country Girl” on the long bus ride to Saint Stephen's St. Agnes, urgent “appointments” with a Café Misto – extra hot, with two pumps of sugar cookie syrup, and almond milk– from Westbard Starbucks that strangely all start at 2:40, long chats in the Senior Lounge about what to ask for over the holidays, or, most importantly, how I can get some soap on Merge Mansion.

During U9, I’ve met with my fair share of teachers (even ones from last year - shoutout to Ms. Salata), who are usually more receptive to me than my sister, who I once tried to find in the middle school to make a TikTok. I was royally rejected mid-TikTok because her friend and Ms. Greene spotted her (you can view this embarrassing moment @monogrammedrangerover), an incident that brutally diminished my ego as my eighth grade sister rejected her senior elder.

I consider U9 the downtime I need to truly decompress after a long day of running around the halls of 7303, complaining about how much Statistics homework I have instead of actually doing it before heading to the turf or off to a later, 4:00 appointment with my Café Misto.

U9 is a beautiful break and bridge of Holton time.

So, I’m glad U9 grew on me, and I hope it grew on you, too.

[Image by Adrian Lam via NBC News from Getty Images]



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