The school year is finally almost over. The 5K is coming up, teachers are starting to buckle down in preparation for final exams, and a major case of senioritis has stricken the senior class.

Ever since I was a subfreshman, I have been looking forward toward senior year. In my eyes back then, the seniors were the epitome of success: They seemed so mature, wise, and they all had such a bright future ahead of them.

It’s kind of hard to imagine that starting in August, I will be one of those people whom I used to look up to. Honestly, I really don’t feel that different from how I felt when I first came to Uni. I also don’t feel that my classmates have changed much either.

However, once I took a step back and reflected upon who I was and who we were as a class subfreshman and freshman year, I realized that my class and I have both undergone some significant transformations.

Over the years, my class has definitely experienced its share of ups and downs (sadly, most were probably downs). Freshman year was the Year of Turmoil. Class meetings turned into heated arguments, and the idea of the Allerton trip encountered way too much opposition. Gossip blogs dished dirt about fellow students, and the birth of BC and other unnamed “cliques” pretty much eliminated the little class unity that remained.

Not only did we have drama within our class, we weren’t exactly popular among Uni as a whole either. The short skirts and high heels worn by the girls in our class were looked upon with disdain by the seniors, who coined the term “sleshies” — slutty freshmen.

When I looked back on who I was freshman year, I realized that my perspective has really changed. Back then, I was proud to be a member of the notorious BC. I thought that Uni should be like “Mean Girls” comes-to-life. I felt that there was a certain prestige that came with being in a named clique. At the time, I didn’t understand why people disliked the BC. I didn’t realize that by naming our group, we automatically seemed snobby and unfriendly.

There was no need to have “Miniskirt Day” or “High Heel Day” once a week. There was no need to have exclusive membership signs on our lockers or post pictures on Facebook of BC members drinking grape juice that resembles alcohol. Sure, we had fun and there’s nothing wrong with having a group of really close-knit friends, but really, a named clique?

Also, our class as a whole has really gone through a metamorphosis over the years. The hemlines of our skirts have gotten longer, gossip blogs and “hot lists” have disappeared from circulation, and all the unnamed “cliques” have more or less disintegrated.

Most importantly, I think it’s amazing how members of our class have started to get along with each other this year. The level of backstabbing and gossip has plummeted like the reading on a thermometer dropped in icy water. The different social circles have begun to mingle, and for once (gasp) people have actually started dating.

Despite all our issues and conflicts over the years, I think we came out of it quite well. Although we are not without flaws, we are definitely more unified as a class. In the end, it’s nice to walk down the hallway and see friendly faces without having to worry about people whispering about you behind your back.