It's About Time

Working on the school newspaper was a dream never fulfilled.  I proofread the junior high newspaper, but I wasn't happy.  I wanted to write.  The teacher in charge didn't like me much; I never knew why.  She wasn't my English teacher; I had very little contact with her.  Try and try again, but my name was never on the staff  sheet.  You can imagine my chagrin when she transferred to Academy the same year I did--and ended up my homeroom teacher!  I could see my chance at the newspaper fly away.  I tried out anyway. No dice.

When dear Edna Mae invited me to join the yearbook staff, I was thrilled.  To be a part of Academy history was so exciting.  I remember bursting with pride when I saw my name with the word "copy writer" beside it.  Robin and I would be doing the writing, or most of it.

The Academe caused a bit of trouble, though.  I and a couple of staff mates were almost always late for Mr. Guenther's European History class.  He got to the point where he didn't want to accept Edna Mae's notes of apology.  Of course, it didn't help when I wrote my term paper on the Reformation.  I knew full well he would find things wrong with my research.  He was VERY Catholic in those days; I socked it to him every chance I got, rubbing my Lutheran knowledge in his face.  I wasn't nice, but in a quiet way.  There was a lot of red pencil on that paper, but I did get a grudgingly given B.

I remember trying to get out of taking pool class.  I hated getting undressed in front of anybody, I hated the smell of  chlorine in my hair, I hated the tank suits with holes in them...hated it all.  Gym was a little better. I was at home on a volleyball court and I liked to play basketball.  As long as the trampoline stayed put away....

I loved my high school days, my time on the yearbook, my girlfriends and boyfriends, even Edna Mae and Mr. Guenther.  Oh, yes,  I had image issues back then, just as I do now, but the happy memories remain as the bad ones slowly fade.

Those days are gone now, but little triggers make me remember those joyous bygone days.  From time to time I will talk about them again, but for now it is time to move ahead in my memories.

I still haven't found the place where I stopped growing and became stagnated.  I'm sure it wasn't those wonderful high school days, but why are the events and the classmates so etched in my mind?  Would I go back if I could?  I have thought about that.  Yes, but only for a little while.  Would I make any changes?  You can bet your life on that one.

I encourage the young around me to try many things, to not be afraid of a change in job or place to live.  Many of my generation were encouraged to lead the lives of our parents--I was one of those who followed along.  So was my husband.  Do we regret the choices we made?  No, not the important ones, although we probably would have made them later.

As I get to know myself--FINALLY--I see why I made those choices when I did.  I am beginning to understand.  It's about time.