The point I am making here, is that 1989 was the shit

Watching The Minion run into school each morning is so adorable.  And it always makes me think about my school days.

Elementary school was undoubtedly the best time for me.  When everyone was friends with everyone else and I wasn't yet hyper focused on AP classes and scholarships and all that jazz.

But my favorite year of school was 9^th grade.  At the time, I went to a junior high, but the junior high thing was being phased out and everything was going to the middle school format.  We were the last freshman class.  We got away with all kinds of shit.

We were old enough to have power and be the rulers of the school, but still young enough that we really didn’t do anything too terribly dangerous or stupid.  Or at least my crowd didn't.  That I know of.

There was a rather large group of us that were friends.  My first and only time really being in that big group dynamic.  It’s just not my thing.  I’m more of a one friend at a time kind of girl.  But it was fun.  We had classes together and sat at a big long table together at lunch. Frozen Capri Suns and Teddy Grahams were the thing back then. And Guess jeans (though they never fit me right, so I always wore Levis). Pasta sweaters. Swatch watches (I was a Mickey watch girl myself). Big hair.  Oh Lord, the big hair. Mine was this odd orangish blond color thanks to a liberal dose of Sun In. 1988-89. The fashion was awesome and glam metal was mainstream.Every Friday night was spent walking around the mall for hours, seeing and being seen. The Good Ole Days.

I tend to block out a lot of stuff.  Most of high school is just a big blank, especially 11-12 grade.  I honestly do not remember more than a snippet of something here and there.  But 9^th grade, I remember.

I had a boyfriend that was MUCH older than me, and a VERY bad dude.  I think that was the only appeal truthfully.  People were scared shitless of him, and that was cool.  I spent just about every lunch hour of 9^th grade glued to the pay phone in the cafeteria.  Literally as my foot hit the bottom step into the cafeteria, the phone would ring.  He was diabolical like that.

 

I had big hair.  I was painfully sarcastic.  I wore a Harley biker jacket.  I smoked.  I cursed like a sailor.  I was definitely the rebel of the group.  People were intimidated by me, thought I was a giant bitch.  And I loved that.  Of course, I was also a straight A student in all honors classes and band.  Go figure.  I was a conundrum wrapped in an enigma.  In high school, I labeled this as being the band whore.  I was cool with it.  I didn't do drugs or drink or party.   I slept my way through half the drum line and a tuba player for good measure.  It was my thing. 

One thing that has always stayed with me is the sarcastic wit.  I’m not as quick with it as I used to be.  But man, back then, I used to just eviscerate people with words.  And much like now, I just did not give one flaming shit what anyone thought of me.  If you did not want the truth, then you should not ask me the question.  I was the friend that would tell you, “Yes, those pants do make you look fat.  And the color isn't that great on you either.  Also, what the hell is wrong with your make-up?  You look like a rodeo clown.”  Yeah, that was me.

This look here, yeah, it happened.  I never personally donned such hideousness (the fringe ... Sweet Baby Jesus, the fringe), but I remember seeing it with my very own eyes.

One girl in our group caught hell from me all the way through high school about her blue eyeliner.  Daily.  I found it just so personally offensive for some reason.  A small group of us got together and had dinner right before our ten year reunion.  As she slid into the booth and made eye contact, I looked right at her eyes.  And she blurted out, “It’s GRAY!”  I laughed so hard I almost peed.  Obviously my critique of her eyeliner choice left a lasting impression.  At the 20 year reunion, I figure she was probably quite pleased to see that while she was still tiny, I am not at least twice the size I was back then.  Some people get fat.  I’m one of them.  It happens.  It’s not really a big deal.  What I noticed was that she had on eyeliner that could only be described as Raccoon Style.  And it was not blue.  So, good for her.  Maybe she finally learned that blue eyeliner was not her friend.

Once during freshman year, the group got together and decided that I should no longer be allowed to be in the group of friends because I was just too damn mean.  They elected a spokesperson to deliver the news.  I don’t remember what I said to her in response.  I do remember that my life went on without a hitch for the next couple of weeks.  I didn't speak to them, didn't even acknowledge them.  I ate lunch, went to class, did my thing. Wasn't affected at all.  And after a couple of weeks, they graciously allowed me back in.  I still find that funny.  And even though I was “in” the group, I still didn't really participate with the group.  I was attached at the hip with my best friend, but the rest of them were incidental outside of school walls.  Even then, school was about school, not socialization.

For some reason that escapes me, our freshman English teacher was gone for most of the year.  We had a few substitutes before we got the one that was there long term.  He was a nice guy, but not really that interested in expanding our young minds.  It was more of a ‘highlight the key points of the lesson plan and then leave us to our own devices’ kind of approach.  We were good with that.  The school was what you could most simply describe as a split level.  And our classroom was on the second level.  It had a window.  The window opened.  Right out onto the roof of the school, right over the front entrance.  One day at lunch, several of the students got the bright idea to go out the window and hang out on the roof.  I don’t think they got caught.  And if they did, I don’t remember the punishment.  It was just one of those random acts that 14-year-olds do, and then feel like they've made some big statement.

I also remember someone getting the answer key to one of the tests and we all had tiny strips of paper on the inside of our watch bands with the answers.  I rarely studied and still pulled all A’s, so I just used it to check my answers.  But I remember him being amazed that we all aced the test.  Poor guy.

Same for science class.  We had those big tables with the black tops because we did lab stuff.  We sat two to a table. And on test day, the teacher would make us put our chairs at the ends of the table so we would be far apart and not cheat.  I never cheated.  But my friend and I did share a calculator and worked out an elaborate system of checking our answers against each other.  We still did the work.  And if we got different answers, then we’d both work the problem again.  The teacher watched us.  And he never could figure out how we always managed to miss the exact same questions.  Bless his little bow-tied heart.

I got meningitis and missed Halloween because I was in the hospital. That really sucked. Though my friends did come see me, I still hate that I missed out on the fun that year.

My best friend had a HUGE crush on a guy that played drums in band.  We were all friends.  He turned us on to Led Zeppelin.  He always wore Polo.  Somehow I ended up with a bottle of his Polo.  And in like 2001 when we moved into our house, I was cleaning out the shelf in our headboard and found that bottle.  I have no idea why I had kept it, but there it was. Some good memories there.

Sometimes it’s nice to take that stroll down memory lane.  But it’s always best to come back to the present.  Who I was then, definitely shaped who I am today.  I’m older.  Better.  And I still don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.