Jake and I mark a small milestone this year: we’ve been out
of high school for 15 years. Seriously? I can remember when my mom was out of
high school for 15 years. It was 1988, and she got a booklet in the mail that
listed all of her classmates and what they’d been up to since 1973. I was
fascinated by this and would delve into her yearbook and match up the people
with their pictures. I had nine years before I would graduate high school, and
it seemed so far away. Over the years, I would look at my mom’s yearbooks again
and have a good chuckle at her pictures, and the clothing and hairstyles. She
warned me that I too would laugh at my yearbooks someday. Fifteen years later,
I still don’t think I look quite as ridiculous as my mom, even if I was totally
rocking the Jennifer Aniston ‘do in my senior pictures...
I look back on high school with some fond memories. Jake, on
the other hand, was glad to leave. I graduated in a class of 170 people; Jake
graduated with over 400. I didn’t know every single person in my class, but I
at least knew their names. I don’t even know how you could begin to find your
place in a class that large. Other than the fact that Jake was tall (people
mistake him for being a football player all the time) and teachers knew his
brother (which occasionally was a strike against him), he skated through State
College High School under the radar (which is something he didn’t seem to
mind). When we talk about our high school days, the only regret he seems to
have is that he didn’t work to his full potential. Maybe.
I can’t say I have numerous regrets about high school. When
I take the time to read old journal entries, I sometimes cringe at things I
said or did and can’t believe how stupid I could be. But I guess that’s all part of
growing up and maturing. Other than the choice of some of my
classes during my senior year (I so
wish I would’ve taken more art classes than the unnecessary Advanced Chem and
Pre-Cal, which just made me feel dumb), knowing I could have done better in
some classes, and perhaps more involved in activities, I’m pretty satisfied
with my high school career. And really, 15 years later, how much of it even
matters anymore?
I had a good group of friends over the years, and I wasn’t
much for teenage rebellion since I didn’t want any privileges taken away. I was
(and still am) a horrible liar. I never could’ve pulled off lying to my
parents… oh, I’m sure there’s a couple things I got away with, but I didn’t
sneak out, the parties I attended were sans alcohol, and I paid enough
attention in health class that I feared ever trying any illegal substance. (And
still do to this day.) I focused my dramatics on boys. I was never quite happy
with my appearance since I wore glasses through 8th grade (and glasses from the late '80s and early '90s were anything but cool), and even
contact lenses didn’t make me feel any less of an ugly duckling. I was never
without makeup, and even when my friends were kind enough to tell me my
lipstick was waaaay too bright, I perceived that as an insult to my appearance.
It didn’t help that my complexion was anything but clear and had the
tetracycline/Retin-A combo to treat my acne. Thankfully, I didn’t have the
super-visible-not-able-to-cover-up-with-makeup-acne, but a lot of it was my own
fault since I liked (and still have this terrible habit) to pick. The bright
side to my (still) oily face is that my mom constantly reminds me that I won’t
have wrinkles when I get older since I was lucky (?) enough to inherit her oily
genes. Not what you want to hear at 16 though. Nor did I enjoy hearing friends
say, “Oh my gosh, I have A zit!” I’m like, “Okay, let me show
you all of mine. I can play connect-the-dots!”
Being a high-schooler in the mid-‘90s was pretty carefree.
Not that I can speak for everyone. I was fortunate enough to have a decent home
life, and in spite of getting doses of real life through seventeen magazine (no cable at my house), I lived in my own little
world. I didn’t give much thought about college, and after a sampling of dorm
life at Penn State during 4-H State Days, I was a little uneasy about attending
college. I knew it was what I was supposed to do after high school, but I had
no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. (Oh wait, I still don’t!)
I am very nostalgic about the ‘90s. The movies I watched
repeatedly (Clueless, Dumb & Dumber), the music I overplayed (Live, Alanis
Morissette), the TV shows I obsessed over (Friends, hence the haircut)… I’m sure my kids
will make fun of me someday for all of that stuff, and not to mention some of
my clothes (I’m making fun of me too for some of those outfit choices—yikers!),
but those things will always remind me of my teenage life, which in all
honesty, was pretty darn easy compared to some of the stuff I’ve dealt with as
an adult.
But were they the best years of my life? As I'm a working mom and a wife and just trying to keep up with housework, bills and remembering all the things that need to get done for the day... not even close. I am blessed to be at this point, something that was so difficult to imagine 15 years ago.
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