Saturday, July 25, 2015

This is How Much I Loved High School

Some people talk about high school as if they were the best years of their lives.  In American culture in particular (and to a lesser degree in Canadian), high school life is romanticised through film, books, and music.  It's depicted as the time and place in so many lives where defining moments and memories are created, where people form friendships that last a lifetime, and where first loves are found.  

Not. 

Well, at least not for me.  I had some good times in high school, but I also remember high school as a time and place filled with racist, homophobic people that I had no choice but to tolerate.  The adults in charge were a mixed bunch; some of them cared deeply about what they did and the students they worked with while others were indifferent to all the dickheads in our midst.  I knew, throughout the four years of high school, that this was just a step that had to be completed before my real life would begin, the life that would be defined by my choices.  

When high school ended with a graduation that I reluctantly attended, this was the only photo I wanted and the only I photo I took as I walked out of school.  Some friends were crying, some were revelling in the moment, but I had other things on my mind - the next steps of my life.  This lamp post was enough to remember high school by.  


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