In May 2000 I
ended my long career as a student in the Bonham Independent School
District. From Head Start and Kindergarten at Stephenson Elementary,
to Baily Inglish Elementary to IW Evans Elementary to LH Rather
Middle School and the boringly named Bonham High School, I spent 14
years there. Roaming the halls of the schools, carrying lunch treys,
checking books out of libraries. I was there. Slow dances at
homecoming, crappy displays at science fairs, band concerts, one-act
plays. So much more.
My class size was
114. A small school. Many of those 114 were with me every year.
Yet while I didn't really have a lot friends per se, I did had a
couple. And a bunch of....associates, colleagues, classmates.
Whatever you want to call an acquaintance on good terms. As I write
this I am 36-years-old. I still think about school all the time.
It's obvious, I know, to anybody who may have randomly happened upon
this blog.
I spent, at that
point, like 80 percent of life in school with those kids. While I
may not have formed much of a personal connection with the vast
majority of them, I certainly was secured in the institution. It was
all I knew. Similar to my wedding day, graduation just crept up on
me and when it got there it was like “wow, now what?” It was
scary. I was prepared to enter brand new territory. It was an
awakening.
I didn't quite
make it to the top 10% of my class. I think I graduated 14th.
Not sure at all, but thereabouts. At some point when I checked I
was 12th in the class, then I had my medical setback and fell down to 17th. My Senior year
was dedicated to pulling myself back up in the GPA ranks. This was
why I became a library aid, it was an easy A. I only managed to climb 3 spots before
time ran out. Who needs the National Honor Society anyway? It's
just an ugly ribbon or sash thing hanging around your neck in your
graduation gown. I already met the requirements to get into my
college. I'm not bitter at all.
I scored an 1130
on my SAT back when it was on a 1600 scale. Before it was on a 2400
scale, and before it went back to a different 1600 scale again. 1130
wasn't amazing, but it was around 125 points above average. We had
an awards assembly and all of us that scored above 1000 on our SATs
were called onto the stage for recognition. There were roughly eight
of us. Jason O was third in our class. He asked me what I
scored and I told him, “1130.” He grinned and said, “Swap the
3 and the 1 and that's my score.” I wasn't really appreciative of
him rubbing my nose in it. We both knew he scored higher than me.
Was it necessary to try and take away from my public recognition?
There were only eight of us up on that stage, it was exclusive. I
understand now that he was possibly insecure. For years he and
Melissa R “battled” to be top student. He was one or two.
Our Junior year Ross S moved to town and joined our school.
Melissa was Valedictorian and Ross would become salutatorian. He
would get a speaking spot at our graduation. I can't know for sure,
if I were bitter about not making National Honor Society (and I'm
not, NHS can go Pound Sand!) perhaps that's the same feeling Jason had
for not finishing school 1st or 2nd in class.
School let out for
good and the following Saturday night we graduated on the football
field. Those of us not in NHS sat alphabetically. The girl that sat
behind me kept talking and talking about the after-party at her
house. She said a lot of people would be there and told us over and
over the directions. Bonham, being a small town, often had folks
party on the middle of nowhere on pastures. This would be a tough
place to find, but she gave the directions over and over and over. I
had them memorized. I didn't however remember any of the speeches.
I am sure they were generic in content. Probably talked about roads
taken, bridges to the future and other cliches involving our
crumbling infrastructure. But do people really remember those
things? I doubt it. This wasn't about speeches. It was about
ending a chapter of your life and beginning anew.
Everybody was
called up to walk across the field. Everybody was handed a fake
diploma. Their plans were announced. Everybody flipped their
tassel. We were cheered on our walk back to our seats. Everybody.
But. Me. Nobody cheered for me. Crickets even sat that one out.
There was a faint applause in the stands from my family. But nothing
from my classmates. What the hell? I cheered everybody. Everybody.
I had done absolutely nothing to earn the chilling silence. I
garnered scant praise from my peers. Nay, not scant. It was zilch.
Not even my supposed friends. 0 decibels registered on the
metaphoric meter that measures pride. I walked back to my seat. I
ignored it and acted as if my soul wasn't bruised. I went to school
with half of these kids for 14 damn years. Nobody felt an
inclination to even freaking clap their hands. I cheered the next 60
or 70 kids whose names were called. I would not be bitter on the
biggest day of my life at that point. Later on a handful of
classmates told me they would have cheered but felt it would
embarrass me. Really? The appearance of blanket condemnation surely
is better for an ego than the embarrassment of being treated like
everybody else. It really hurt, but I tried to put it behind me that
night.
At the conclusion
of the ceremony we threw our caps in the air and hooted and hollered.
I didn't know what to do so I found Nick, the closest thing I had to
a best friend following the departure of Bryce , and hugged him lifting the guy up in the air. We screamed at each
other, “We did it!” and high-fived. We would be roommates in a
few months in college. It's funny, that hug, other than occasional
high-fives, was probably the only time we ever physically embraced.
Seems odd for two kids that were friends since the first grade.
After the pomp and
circumstance subsided, I drove to that girl's house. At lease I
tried. It was dark on that highway and I went up and down 82 over
and over looking for her party. Damn, I felt like such a damn loser.
Nobody liked me enough to cheer me upon graduation, and now I
couldn't find the party where directions were repeated ad nauseam. I
eventually gave up and went to the official sponsored post-graduation
party. A lock-in at the family life center.
The Clarence White
Memorial Family Life Center was built by the First United Methodist
Church of Bonham while I was in Junior High. It's a metal structure
housing a basketball court, a lobby, some racquetball courts and
upstairs some arcade games, big screen TVs, foosball tables, and air
hockey. It's a safe hangout for kids in a town that was severely
lacking in such things.
I parked the car
at the Family Life Center relieved to find dozens of cars. I would
not be alone. I met up with Nick and would hang out with him for the
better part of the next seven or eight hours.
I played
basketball. It was very disorganized. Something like 8 on 8, no
shirts and skins because girls played too. If you could get past the
confusion you were at a distinct advantage. I never tried
racquetball until college, it simply was over my head. There were
free sodas and free pizza, whatever it takes to promote pimples I
guess. What else could a teen ask for?
We went up stairs
and played some games and watched some Pg-13 movies on the TV. It
was a long night. For me it was a last chance to talk with these
kids for possibly ever. I didn't regret missing the kegger in the
dark field in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I wouldn't have known
most of the people there. Drinking beer with peers was something I
rarely did, why do that tonight? I knew the people at the rec
building. It was more true to who I was. We took pictures together.
We played twister and board games. We broke bread (or, rather,
pizza crusts).
At the conclusion
of the lock-in there were drawings for prizes. Some donated items
were given away as well as gift certificates. CD players, a
PlayStation, restaurant gift cards. Then there was a gift
certificate to some women's boutique I never heard of. They drew a
boy's name. Redraw. They drew another boy's name. Redraw. The
person announced whoever had their number pulled on the third drawing would be stuck
with the gift, regardless of gender. Sure enough, my ticket was
drawn and I was stuck with a certificate to some place I would never
go. I was told to give it to my mamma. Great graduation gift right
there. It would join the ranks of my new alarm clocks and the five
Bibles I had been given that week.
It was about 5 am
and the doors unlocked. We were dismissed. I hugged several people.
Most of the kids I'd never see again. Many I'd not hear from for
nearly 15 years when we'd friend request each other on Facebook.
Even then it would be a dry transactional thing. Request, accept,
forget.
Except for
returning to school in a few days to pick up my transcripts and real
diploma, my high school career was officially finished. I headed
home in reliable whore house red. It was still
before 6am and the weather was beautiful. I didn't want to go in my
house yet. We had a wood picnic table in our backyard. I went back
there and laid down on it. I stared up at the cloudless sky with the
stars larger and more clear than ever. Outside the occasional bird
it was still. So quiet. So serene. I relaxed. I meditated on my
future. I had done it. I made it through. I was now an adult. In
a few more months I was going to college and would room with Nick. I
would be away from home. Holy cow. I did it. Things were about to
get real. I would not, I could not be left wandering the road at
night looking for my destination in the middle of nowhere. I had it
all figured out. What I had been working toward since I was four
years old was finally here. Let's go.
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| Me. I didn't want to search for a graduation pic. 2000 |
If I had to pick a single song for this post it would be...
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