High School Confessions

Throughout life, we as humans experience change.  Sometimes more frequently than we would like, but there you have it.  As a high school student, I found change my constant companion.  There were many new developments as I passed through the system: new classes were added, our school name changed with a merger, the softball program formed, my class load difficulty accelerated, new staff arrived, etc.  By junior year, I was often with my teachers, coaches or sponsors more than I was at home.  Yes, I was perhaps involved in everything possible. And granted, I understand every kid and their experiences are different....but more often than not, this is a case easily applied to students today.  Change.

My point is, on certain days my history teacher was just my history teacher and my science teacher was just a science teacher...and so on.  But more often than not?  I found within my classrooms educators who were more than just there to share new information with me on their mastered subject.  Often I found advice, guidance, and support when I needed it most.  They accepted me for the striving, determined, flawed creature I was, as I accepted them.  Respect developed.  It should come as no surprise that I am in my current profession because of the kindness and brilliance I found in my coaches, sponsors, and teachers.

Sometimes I stand in front of my own classes now and experience a random memory that brings a smile to my face.  Who could forget the taste of a Phyllis cinnamon roll?  Or getting to school early just to line the hallway floor?  Sometimes as I step over freshmen legs in my hall, I see our heads bent together working on homework or catching up on the gossip developed overnight on MSN. 

In other instances, student conversations will take me back to the time in my life where I too was in their shoes...my generation may not have experienced the level of technology issues, nor had gripes with a federal-restricted lunch program, but some things truly never change.   

Case in point: on this beautiful Wednesday afternoon, Mrs. Blocher, my high school English teacher turned co-worker and now great friend, offered to buy me a drink from the local coffee shop.  As the two of us found ourselves enjoying a refreshing peach smoothie on my front porch, conversation flowed.  More often than not, our conversations of "catching up" go from the latest news, stresses, and joys to reminiscing.

Today we found ourselves laughing and sharing "confessions" of sorts from our respective high school days.  As adults--one must not be a teacher for this to be true--we sometimes have to enforce rules that teens don't always fully appreciate.  For some reason, the subject this day turned to school policies on dress code. 
 And so, to prove that teachers (or adults in general) understand more than students think we do, Mrs. B and I decided to each share a confession of sorts. 

Mrs B's story:
When I was a freshman cheerleader, we got new skirts, which were somewhat short for way back then.  Principal Tuch made us come to his office and ordered us to get on our knees.  If our skirts did not hit the floor, we had to go home.  Mine did not.  So twenty miles later, I was quickly grabbing a conservative dress at an appropriate length.  So short lengths have been taboo since the dark ages.

Ms. O's story:
I am not a fan of labels.  However, to cut to the chase, I will just say that I was (in my opinion) a "good girl" in high school.  BUT I did have a stubborn, sarcastic, and ornery streak that I will admit still exists today.  Throughout my entire Jr. High and High School career I only got one detention (and sorry Mrs. H, I still think that was a joke...a playful push on a friend's shoulder after she had just done it to me?  Come on).  Fast forward to the very last day of senior year.  Not only did I have Alice Cooper's "School's Out For Summer" in my backpack ready to play over the speaker system, I also was wearing what was a pretty new outfit.  For my birthday that March, my aunts had given me two layering tanks with 1/2" straps in two different shades of light blue paired with a dark blue zip up light jacket from Abercrombie & Fitch.  It being in the later part of May, it was warm so I chose to leave the jacket behind.  It was my last day, right?  We were only checking out of classes anyway.  WRONG.  As I pulled open the doors by the high school office, our principal stood there talking to my then softball coach.  With the crook of his finger, I walked over to them.
"Cassie," he shook his head.  "I'm sorry, but you are going to need to change."
"Seriously?  It's the last day, and the two of them together equal 1"....come on, Mr. Lambert."
But he didn't budge, and my coach took pity on me and gave me a softball t-shirt from her room to wear over my two (what I think now would be considered modest) tanks until the end of the day.  Luckily, said principal letting the seniors rub it in that we were done with Alice Cooper's jam made up for it. 

Oh, memories!

When it comes to Mrs. B, many great memories come to mind--before our merging, she taught us Jr. High English as well as Psychology, Sociology, English 10, and Creative Writing.  I know I am not the only one in my class that still remembers her coming to school with poison ivy and trying not to "drip" on us :).  She was at that level of dedication, folks!  We learned the value of writing and the power of debate, truly seeing both sides of a topic.  Her love of nature and ONP rubbed off on many of us.

A mentor and teacher then; a co-worker and true friend now.  We may change over the years--our priorities, our commitments, our dreams, our friends, our appearance--but, as has been discussed with my Creative Writing kids, memories are there for a reason.  And change is certainly not always a negative thing.  It is good to treasure all memories...the good, the bad, and the confessed :).

~Ms. O, with a special appearance by Mrs. B!