I recently got an invite to my twenty-year high school reunion.
Twenty.
Twenty fucking years.
Jesus.
So, since high school has been on my mind for the past few days, I figured I might as well write a post about it.
I liked high school. I think I might have actually loved it a little. Yes, you heard me right.
The actual lessons were always easy. I'm intelligent and a quick study; I was in a special program where I did intensive science classes for the last three years (bio-chem, intro genetics, college-level physics and gen chem), and I was tutoring advanced math. My English classes were largely Latin courses and Shakespeare. I was my art teacher's favourite student. I was on the honour roll. I won a bunch of awards at graduation.
I also held the record for the most absences in a year. Two years in a row. I was constantly in detention... mostly for creating mayhem. I was suspended. I was put on academic probation. I had to see a guidance counsellor twice a week for the last two years of school. Why? Because all my report cards said approximately the same thing:
Brilliant student when motivated. Does not play well with others.
When watching The Breakfast Club, someone asked me who I was in high school, I said: "Why do I have to pick?"
Death metal t-shirts, ripped jeans one day. Three-piece pinstripe suit the next. In the chess club and on the yearbook team. Organizer of fights off school property where I also acted as bookie. Was nominated to position of Peer Counsellor* for my grade and interviewed by a newspaper. Chronic stoner that helped to run acid and hash through the school.
I was suspended and forced to come into school over a holiday once, but the principal gave me the keys to the school so I could go work in the dark room instead of sitting in her office.
I wasn't popular, no, but I got along with a lot of people.
I was either a teacher's favourite student or their worst nightmare.
I got away with so much shit.
I had fun.
I tend not to remember the bad parts.
It was a time when I had no responsibility other than getting my school work done... the rest of the time was a barrel of laughs. So many good memories.
Getting stoned and skipping class to trip in the woods where I told ghost stories.
Hanging out with my friends, smoking our cigarettes, thinking were were all that.
All the art projects... plus getting really stoned and watching The Wall in art class.
Drunken school dances with furtive fondling.
But... am I going to my reunion?
No. I'm not interested. I'd like to leave the happy memories where they are... anyone that I wanted to stay in contact with, I have on Facebook. I don't get off on talking about work, kids, diseases, mortgages. And, while I got a little nostalgic writing this post, I'm also not one for talking about the Good Old Days™. I'm still right in the middle of them...
High school was a blast though.
*where I used my powers to pull students out of class to snag a friend of mine so we could go to my place and get so high on hash that I lay on my bed and came hands-free. Then was promptly sick.
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