Just recently, like today, a friend told me to watch a video (here) that Martin High School shot and posted on their newsletter site. Although the "singers" weren't as together as an "anal-OCD-let me toot my own horn cause I was a film major who excelled at editing" like me would have liked to see, the concept to have an entire school of 3,800 bodies, including faculty and staff, come together in one continuous take was breathtaking to say the least. Each group, organization, click, niche, what have you, coalesced into a single organism called community. As I watched this video, I was reminded of my time in high school and how it was similar and yet very different from what it is now.
Many people, once they're done with school and higher education, tend to leave the past behind them. When I venture home for holidays or vacations, the general consensus for some of my friends is that high school WAS high school and no amount of cajoling can get them to go back into that building. I mean high school meant something right? We are all still friends. The best of friends to withstand the distances of college and post college life. Reminiscing of when "so and so" went out with "that person?" and then got all huffy when "blah" had a crush on "him/her." We post pictures that we dig up from the bottoms of our collective shoeboxes on Facebook or whatever friend community share site we have. High school was magical, many people married their sweethearts and are living their dream. So what's the aversion to walking around in the physical school?
I understand the most common complaint is that we are old. Not going on retirement-AARP old, but old enough that it would seem strange (and possibly sex offender type) to be prowling the hallways during Spirit Week. But who cares? Do it at least once. Look up the few teachers (if they're still there) who left a Sidney Poitier/"Welcome Back, Kotter" mark on your life, hopefully for the better. Get in touch with them. Then go to school and visit them. See what students they have now. Remember that you were once that small and wimpish. Even if you were an athlete, cause let's face it. You were in high school. You just went through puberty. This ain't no Dawson's Creek/high school movie of your choosing deal where you were always this hot and put together... if you were then I salute you, and I bid you safe journey in your bid for world domination. Your teachers, mentors, whoever would undoubtedly love to hear what you have been doing. I mean hey, you graduated from high school. You passed that hurdle of life. Give back, to say the least, to some of the people who built you into who are now.
Last year, during Thanksgiving, I went home. My mother, who has been a substitute teacher in our high school for as long as I can remember, took me to school with her. It was fun. Initially the most awkward thing ever, and I had thoughts of speeding away in my mother's minivan as we walked up to those security guarded doors. I don't know if your school had this, but if you are not a student you sign in, and then wear a tag the whole day to let people know that so you don't get carted off campus by rent-a-cops. Very detention center-ish but safe in its intent.
Anyways, my mother signed me in and then proceeded to show me off to everyone on staff. It's a point of pride for her that her daughters live in the northeast and lead successful lives. (Now that I've moved to NYC and am unemployed, I'm sure she's just talking about my sister to people.) I was traipsed around the building and then sat down in her class, where I proceeded to make myself as small as possible. The kids who entered stared at me like some freak. Their glances and questions to me screamed of "this is an adult?"
After that horror event, I was free to roam on my own. My mother gave me a list of teachers and their classrooms, and I proceeded to find as many of them as I could. Mrs. Warner, Mr. Atman, Mrs. Flynt, Ms. Dowdy, Mr. Hart, Mr. Cure. I still and will always probably until I am old and decrepit call these people by their last names. No way around that one. Some people didn't recognize me on first glance, but O-M-G, it was amazing! Chatting about their lives, about my life, about random things that happened or just general chatter. They introduced me to their promising students and embarrassed me by relating stories of my antics in school and my life now. I was crestfallen when I realized there would never be enough time to fully speak with all these people as they had to do a little something called "teach." But, when I left school at the end of the day, I was happy to have had the opportunity to actually get to know the people who taught me a thing or two about everything. I made a promise to myself that day that I would keep in touch with them as a friend should. Needless to say, I haven't really done well on my promise...
I love my high school. I say it with a possessive tone because it was mine, and everyone else's. We lived and breathed that school. Pouring as much or as little of ourselves into our classes and social interactions. We have forged friendships that have lasted a decade or more and will probably last forever. There are moments when I look at a photo on my wall and remember when it was taken, who else was there, and I wish that I could be home again. Living at home, being near these people. I wish that I could be close enough to go see a high school football game because, let's face it, it's Texas and high school sports are a major organ in the body of the state. I wish I could sit on that little hill off the school parking lot and watch the marching band go through its paces. I wish I could see the spring musical and reminisce about when a backdrop fell on me or when I attempted to inflate over 200 balloons by myself for Footloose. (As you can see, I've become quite sentimental about the whole thing. Damn you video.) Don't even get me started on the after-school hang outs... Braum's, Jack in the Box, CiCi's Pizza.
It was easy when we were in high school. As much as we wanted to be independent, we had it made. Room and board, free health care, etc... all taken care of. Even though I had a curfew, I could still be with my friends. Throwing stupid parties, giggling over crushes, making garters and mums for Homecoming, movie nights and sleepovers.
If you have fond memories of what used to be, or just curious about what's happening/happened, go visit your high school. Visit your teachers. Even if you feel you haven't achieved much in the way you thought you would, they'll welcome you with open arms. Glad to know that you've made it this far in life with only a handful of bumps and bruises showing. You're not too old or grown up to go back. Just look at Kotter.
What was your favorite high school memory, prank, whatever? (And I swear if you reference High School Musical or Varsity Blues I will find you and wag my finger at you)
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