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Seniors 96!

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November 29, 2004

I was a fairly normal teenager. I admit, I spent more time on my schoolwork than the average classmate, was worse at sports, cared much more, and drank so much less that you can't do percentages (0 increased to some number is an impossible calculation). So perhaps I wasn't totally normal. I did have dates, and a number of them ended as atrociously as bad high school dates could, and I had what I would estimate to be an average or slightly below average number of heated discussions with my parents about tyranny and unfairness and the like, but by and large, I led a pretty standard teenagerhood. I liked school. Naturally, school-as-institution was different from school-as-collection-of-individuals, so I could see that I was pro-Lions (Go Lions!) while being against—subtly, of course; need those recommendations—the head of the Upper School. But the school, and the classmates, even the so-called cool kids who were already former jocks by tenth grade, that I actually kind of liked. By senior year, we were forced into camaraderie. The class before us had it very visibly, up until the moment in the valedictory speech when the valedictorian excoriated, if not verbally eviscerated his classmates and told everyone assembled how much he'd grown and what a success he'd be. But we had it because we were supposed to have it. "Seniors '96!" we'd cry, and we'd meant it. There was sure to be some infighting, but we still loved each other like brothers. And in the years since, I've never really thought badly of my experiences at the school; but that may have been because I was never really in trouble, did what the teachers asked, and was generally liked. I had breakfast the other day with two friends, both of whom turned out quite well in their lives, and both of whom seemed to hate our school with a passion. More, while I have a morbid curiosity about what befell some of the "choicer" of our classmates, they couldn't care less. They don't even want to see bad things happening to the classmates who deserved nothing less. And it's a bit strange to me, because we were good friends, and we met because of that place, and where I have warm feelings for it because it prepared me for my life and netted me several close friends (though few new brothers), they have nothing but pity for anyone who attended it. And I couldn't bring myself to tell them that I did actually like it somewhat.

This was Perspective , and it appeared on November 29, 2004 4:49 PM.

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