This year was going to be amazing. As a senior, high school would be a joy-ride where I would be part of the elite, breeze through classes and just have a good time.

Instead, senior year is nothing like it was supposed to be.

After the daily five-minute walk from the field to the new main building and the climb up three flights of stairs while carrying a dozen books, I am already exhausted before the school day even begins. But excessive and rather unnecessary exercise is the least of my complaints.

I got to school on the first day so I could make it to my locker and my first class well in time, or so I thought. But as it turns out, I got to “A” period panting and completely out of breath because I got lost. Following suit, I was late to every single class that day. Ironically, my freshman cousin made it to each of his classes on time.

Most of us seniors thought this would be the year we had the upper-hand over the entire school, buy we were sadly mistaken.

It is embarrassing and frustrating to have a freshman show us the way to class. Even some Link Crew leaders got lost in the maze of the new building.

Finding a lunch spot in this new campus was another Herculean task. My friends and I spent 20 minutes on the first day looking for a place to eat.

Famished, we gave up and resorted to a spot near the T-building, surrounded by freshman boys hopped up on sugar, throwing food at each other and screaming like the world was about to end.

Since then, we have found another secluded lunch spot, but apparently the plants here need more nourishment than we do.

The other day at lunch, all the sprinklers suddenly went off, wetting everyone and their belongings. The screams and wet bottoms were amusing until people began to complain about soaked sandwiches, homework and backpacks.

Leaving campus for lunch was supposed to be one of the highlights of senior year, but making it back in time without getting a speeding ticket or running someone over seems near impossible to me.

The privilege of picking our own lockers was also snatched away from us. We are faced with rows and rows of identical white lockers that are ridiculously difficult to open and surrounded by unfamiliar faces. We miss the colorful locker areas that had been our familiar hangout spots for three years.

But nothing is as bad as the rule that prohibits food in the new building. After climbing up three flights of stairs with my eight heavy AP textbooks, I want nothing more than to grab a bite to eat.

But after seeing an administrator grab my friend’s closed bag of chips out of his hand and throw it into the trash only to have it snatched and disposed again by another administrator after he fished it out the first time, I choose to be a law-abiding senior and deprive myself rather than break the rule.

The alternative option to walk all the way down those infamous stairs and out into the quad just to eat a granola bar is just not worth it.

The list of grievances seems never-ending, especially as a new dilemma poses itself. Just as we slowly adapt to the new Grizzly home, I wonder what is going to happen to us once the rain comes and we’re left nowhere to eat.

Well, all I can say is, you never know what the Class of ’07 might stir up. After all, “Bond ain’t got nothin’ on us!”