My high school reunion was this weekend. I didn’t go — not because I didn’t want to (I sort of did), but more because of money and scheduling problems. I’m moving to New Canadian City next week, and my to-do list seems to be spawning new and more horrible things to do every time I open Google Tasks. I am rapidly approaching my capacity for adult responsibility,* and a trip to the airport right now would probably have pushed me over the edge.
So I’ve mostly lived the reunion vicariously through Facebook. And, much to my surprise, a woman I knew in high school expressed outright dread of attending. We’ll call her N.
I was shocked that N. might be afraid of attending our high school reunion. From my geek’s-eye point of view,** N. was one of the cool kids. She was loud and funny and confident. She went to all of the parties that I was never invited to. She hung out with kids who wouldn’t give me the time of day, but was always friendly towards me and wrote really nice things in my yearbook that I still remember. Everyone liked her. According to Facebook, she’s got an awesome job and a serious romantic partner. What, I wondered, could possibly be tempting N. to stay home?
And the wondering made me realize that I have no idea what high school was like for N. Maybe the parties I secretly envied weren’t all that much fun for her. Maybe there were snide comments, broken friendships, hurtful rumors spread. N. was the kind of person who made high school suck less for people like me, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t suck for her.
I’m suddenly itching to ask everyone from my high school about their experience. Did the “popular kids” love it like I assumed? Did they even see themselves as the “popular kids”? What about the cool kids who didn’t seem to care what others thought — did they really not care? In short, what did I miss by assuming they were the ones who had it easy?
Maybe nothing. Maybe some of them did have it easy, did love every minute of high school. But I suspect that most of them, like N., didn’t have nearly as smooth a path as I thought.
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* Anyone who isn’t familiar with Hyperbole and a Half needs to read this post, about dealing with responsibility and pretending to be an adult. Ever since reading this, Econo Man and I have run around the apartment declaring our intention to “clean ALL the things!”
** Lest you doubt my geek cred, let me spell it out. Debate team. Math team. Honor Society. Video games. Fantasy novels. Ayn Rand novels.+ Didn’t touch a drop of alcohol until college. I was definitely not on the A-list for high school parties.
+ I know, I know. I’m going to use the “I was fifteen!” defense here.
I skipped my 10-year reunion a few years ago. I was decidedly NOT one of the popular kids, though by the time I got out of there I’d settled comfortably into the geek clique, and at graduation the homecoming queen confessed she’d always envied me because I just seemed really cool and above all the social pettiness and comfortable in my own skin. Which just goes to prove that, yeah, everyone’s life looks way the hell easier from the outside.
I skip my reunions because they’re planned by the girls who most went out of their way to harass me and spread nasty rumours about me back in the day. I know that they probably don’t even remember most of that stuff. Hell, *I* don’t really remember the details; I just remember lots and lots of angst and tears and I still panic slightly when I see someone who looks like them walking towards me on the street. And now they’re both selling Real Estate and as far as I can tell still single and have never actually left the city they grew up in, and I have a fabulous partner and an awesome career and live in Europe… and part of me would like to show up at the next reunion and be all in-your-face fabulous, but when I stop to think about it, I realise it’s really not worth my time and the airfare. And anyways, I’ve got a feeling that we keep score so differently, we’re not even playing the same game anymore. So I keep touch with the people I actually liked, and leave it at that.
Ever read a book called “Queen Bees and Wannabes”? It’s so spot-on in its description of teenaged social dynamics that it makes for uncomfortable reading. Ostensibly it’s a parenting book, but it’s a very insightful (and feminist) lens through which to look back on those years, too.
That Hyperbole and a Half post is destined for internet meme stardom. Today, for instance, I finally remembered to put my chequebooks in my motherf*cking PURSE like an ADULT.
@kippahandcollar — I’m glad it’s not just me who has the impulse to show up and be all in-your-face fabulous! No one really went out of their way to be mean to me in high school (they mostly just ignored me), but I was definitely the geeky girl with bad hair and giant ugly t-shirts. Showing up in a great dress with a great guy and surprising everyone with my newfound ability to buy clothes that fit was a tempting fantasy.
@Ami — I haven’t read “Queen Bees,” but I’ve heard of it and I know it’s supposed to be really good. Wasn’t that the book that “Mean Girls” was based on/inspired by?
Doesn’t that post just nail that “ugh, I have to be a grown-up now” feeling? The other day, I actually did have to go to the bank, and I definitely informed the apartment that I was going to the motherf*cking BANK like an ADULT before going out the door.
“There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old’s life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other, of course, involves orcs.” (John Rogers)
Luckily you emerged from your Ayn Rand phase okay.
I skipped my reunion, too. Partly because everyone I’m curious about can be spied upon with Facebook. On the other hand, what about people I haven’t thought of in awhile?
Mouse, I read “Lord of the Rings” before I read any Ayn Rand — I wonder if that inoculated me against the more harmful effects of “Atlas Shrugged”? Something to ponder …
Mos def.
Can not say that I would ever attend any social function revolving around high school. It has been 32 years since I drove away for the last time and left it in my rear view mirror. Well, not really, I did go back after 6 or 7 years just to touch base with and thank a few teachers who made an impact on me.
Due to a scheduling conflict I was able to skip the second last semester and get a real job. It was an adult blue collar job, with real adult world responsiblities and with real adults. There was no putting off assignments to the last minute, or expending effort based upon my interest in the particular task. We were expected to do what we were told, when and how we were told. No daydreaming, no goofing around, no showing up stoned, no oogling girls.
I worked with adults. One faced a life threatening illness. One was seeing red flags in his upcomming marriage. The wannabe franchise owner who was totally dismayed after learning the store did not come with a money printing machine and that to his horror one actually has to spend money to make money. A man child who did not know how to deal with his wife’s pregnancy. One fellow working two jobs to maintain a lifestyle beyond his means. The assistant store manager who sold merchandise out the back after hours then staged a robbery to cover for the missing goods. An alcoholic looser who could do so much better without the booze. A service manager with a room temperature I.Q. Disgruntled customers who came in for the specials and did not get what they thought they wanted. The town floozy cashier. The ex convict employee who stole money. Coming home dirty, tired, sore and not wanting do to anything at night. Going to bed early to prepare for the next day. Working Saturdays and eagerly awaiting the schedule rotation so I had a Saturday off. The know it all former salesman come president of the company whose only knowlege was in the art of B.S.but insisted on telling everyone how to do their jobs.
Upon returning to school for the final semester, the whole social aspect of high school was quickly put into perspective for me. It had nothing to do with the real adult world that many who would not attend post secondary education would soon face. High school was really about fitting in, socializing, the cliques, the cool kids, where you hung out, with whom you hung out, what bands/singers/musicians were cool, school dances, getting drunk or high, clothes, hairstyles, jackets- were all totally worhtless expenditures of one’s energy.
My glory days were not within the confines of high school, doing whatever the teacher, school board and moreso other students would recognize and remember one for. I have grown up, away and far beyond those times.
What bonded me together with our group is no longer of any interest or consequence to me.We went our separate ways and have not kept in touch. I wish them well, and hope their lives have worked out for them. I would take no fiendish pleasure in finding out that they may have done worse than me.
I have no fond nor horrid memories of the experience. It keeps sinking farther down onto the trash heap of history as time moves on.
There is an alumni facebook page. There are the cliched pictures of old pals crunching together in a group hug holding scuffed beer bottles. The blue eyeliner girls who always had the hair, clothes and makeup who now at middle age can really benefit from the years of practice. Get togethers at venues that seem to cater more to a customer base who are eager to use their first credit card, not middle aged adults. Conspicuosly absent are the big leauge careers of the star athletes who were featured in the scanned copy of the well preserved full color news paper picture and article of the big game.
The experience is in the past, I can not get nostalgic over it. There is simply no desire to do so. Yes it did have an impact on me, probably made me who I am today to some degree, but it is over, done with and fading from memory.
I would rather spend the time at the cottage with my grand children.