High School Better Than Expected

Last Friday, I returned to my old high school to judge their senior exhibitions. These days, to graduate, one must put together a senior portfolio with the best works from the years and give an oral presentation. I volunteered to be a judge.

I thought they'd ask me what I did, but they didn't. I guess anyone can be a judge. First, we all arrived, and there were hundreds of adults there, all well-dressed. I didn't get the email about how well-dressed one must be, so I was only moderately well-dressed, but a lady (when I asked) assured me I looked fine. Then we grabbed lunch and I asked a couple of military recruiters about joining, for my niece and nephew. Actually, for my husband's niece and nephew, as my own brothers will never reproduce. Niece and Nephew are adrift, one without a job, one in a job with no future, with only a horizon full of illegitimate children and more sponging off my husband's parents to look forward to. Good times.

Truthfully, I thought the Senior Exhibition was going to be a horrible thing. For one thing, said niece has just turned 18 and dropped out of school to be, apparently, a professional skank. But not a good one, because she dates guys who are jobless and living off of other people, rather than at least having some money. I mean, if one is going to be a skank, then be one moving up in the world. Niece has always hated school; I have tutored her and though she is supposed to have a reading disability, she can actually read and pay attention pretty decently, if she cared to. She does not. So my perception was that all of high schoolers must be like her and her friends.

I sat in a room with three other adults-- two women a decade and a half older than me and a grandpa in his 60s or 70s-- and a teacher. The teacher looks EXACTLY like Lindsay Lohan's younger sister, except that the teacher is actually in her 30s, unlike Ali Lohan, who just unfortunately is an ate-up looking teen. Also, the teacher is prettier and probably 50 IQ points higher.

Anyway, the seniors came trooping in. I'd had a few minutes to look over their portfolios, but not enough time to actually read each one (which kind of defeats the purpose of senior portfolio). Each senior was dressed to the nines in their finest business attire. Each had sweaty palms and a broad, nervous grin.

Each one went over their academic careers, their hopes and dreams. They talked about what they'd learned in high school. Here's where my scoring softened: each one had a really hard personal story to tell. One had a friend that committed suicide. One had been working to support her mom. One had been the victim of a sexual assault and, separately, an abusive boyfriend, an experience that she'd parlayed into helping others in the same situation. One's dad had died during his freshman year. One had a teenage sister who had gotten pregnant and left him alone to care for the baby while she went out and partied. Each one had turned their situation around, learned from it, and talked about it without crying.

It was more than any high schooler should have to go through, I thought. Bad things happen to all of us, but I always hope that they'll happen as adults, rather than teens.

Not only that, each one had a mile-long list of the books they'd read and how their teachers had affected them for the better, mostly their English teachers, who were strict and exacting.

When I went to this school, I'd had a succession of horrible teachers who didn't have us do much of any work. In my advanced 10th grade English class, people smoked and the teacher, close to retirement and closer to senility, didn't notice. In my algebra class, the teacher did a 2 week unit on Russia, which she'd just visited, and then sprang some tests on us. My geometry teacher tutored me and didn't understand why I could still only pull a D. And I was in the Gifted program. It wasn't until college that I liked class. In high school, I merely marked time until the bell rang, so I could go make out with my boyfriend.

These kids cared, they volunteered, they had passionate interests. I gave them all high marks and went home, feeling like the world has hope after all.