Senior Column: Malcia Greene


Graesen Joyce

Truth be told, I’ve enjoyed being the jester and not always the ringmaster.

College: University of Missouri

Major: Journalism 

“Steve,” my mom stammered. “Have you seen our daughter’s Instagram?”

My dad had not.

“Clown College ’24” my new bio proudly read.

Part of me needed a filler while waiting to hear back from universities while part of me needed to relax. Like any senior, I wanted the euphoria of opening that one school’s admission decision with the phrase, “Congratulations!” written at the top. Only, that wasn’t my reality. There was no envelope in my mailbox, just a link redirecting me to a waitlist.

But there was more to the gag than that.

Clown College was a deflection for when relatives asked where I was leaning or when my friends teased, “Malcia, time’s a tickin’.” People meant well, and I knew that. But I couldn’t help myself from throwing folks a curveball on social media.

(Excuse me if “I’m from the Lou and I’m proud” didn’t strike me as the flavor I was looking for.)

Clown College ’24”

— Malcia Greene

Then again, there were of course those who did understand and back Stan Twitter humor, like one of my best friends, Fitz. Despite the occasional eye roll and “Girl, huh…” remarks in my DM’s, I kept in mind two things:

1) It wasn’t that deep. 2) Clownery had been prominent throughout my time at KHS.

Whether it was getting stuck on the metro in Silver Spring, Md., already an hour past curfew, (thanks again to Mr. Eden for not killing Liam Jackson and me) or accidentally ripping the trampoline of the kid I babysit, I’ll admit, I’ve endured my fair share of trials and tribulations.

But my most memorable moment from this so-called circus? Hitting a Pioneer photographer in the one and only JV golf match I qualified to play in. Lainey Hogg—bless her heart—was nowhere near the path of my swing. Luckily, she was OK and so was her Canon. Strangely enough, I’m almost glad I whiffed on the green that day.

Truth be told, I’ve enjoyed being the jester and not always the ringmaster. But it’s time to get serious. College awaits, and I have to buckle down. And no, I’m not talking about the velcro on my clown shoes.