A very young Deborah Ladd (right) with classmates Elaine Gu (left) and Lizzy Warner in teacher Joel Beesley's computer literacy class when they were subfreshmen. Photo courtesy Deborah Ladd (click to enlarge)

SENIOR YEAR FOR me can be described in one word: blurry.

Days are hazy, weekends swirly, and previous school years clouded by a year spent trying to forget them.

And yet it all seems trivial now.

The things I stressed out about (homework, who was dating whom, who wasn't speaking to whom, how a school team would do) seem almost childish when I compare them to the future: college.

I am choosing to go to a college in another state, where I have no previous connections.

It is beginning to dawn on me that I am putting myself completely out of any comfort zone I have ever known, and it's a little scary.

I am starting to long for the good old days … but no, not my ones at Uni.

Quite the opposite. I am extremely happy to be graduating ('09!) and am bragging to all of my friends who have not completed their high school careers and sending looks of triumph to those who have and continuously rub it in my face.

But I am going to miss those blissful days spent on the playground. Yes, the golden ages of elementary school. Remember the times when you had two or three recesses a day, long lunches, and could run around screaming because your age was still in the single digits?

There was nothing profound in those days; everything simply was. You knew what you liked (four square, hide and seek, tag) and what you didn't (boys!), and everyone catered to you because you were too young to do it for yourself.

Back then I wanted nothing more than to be a grownup. They seemed to know everything, could do anything, and were not restricted by their mental and physical underdevelopment. And now, as I prepare to graduate at the ripe old age of 16, I look back and think to myself: I miss recess.

I was always young for my class. I have a summer birthday, so in the beginning of the year I would fit in, but by the time classes were over, it was apparent that I was one of "those." The kids who spend all year in school and never had "Happy Birthday" sung to them in the cafeteria.

Then I went from sixth grade to Uni, and became even younger.

But here I found a sympathetic environment. Almost half of my class was younger than what is considered the "normal age" for our grade. A few people were even younger than I was! My bubble is now bursting, though, its rainbow-streaked, sticky remains strewn across Uni's cracked and fading floor.

I will be 17 for my entire freshman year of college. I will be more than a year younger than … everyone. I will get weird looks from my peers when they find out that I still need parental permission for things they can do without thinking twice about. They will turn 19 their freshman year. I will turn 19 after my sophomore year.

So I wonder: Have I grown up too fast? When I was younger I yearned for maturity, and now everyone says that they would never assume I was my age based on my behavior.

Yet as I leave the sheltering environment of Uni, I realize that I must brace myself for a world where I will always be a freak, too young for where I am, and too mature to go back.

And all I keep thinking is … I miss recess.