It's graduation season around her. Went to the neighbor boy's graduation party the other day. He was all happy and excited. I envy him his enthusiasm.
Oh, to do it all over again.
What a pain in the a*s that would be.
I didn't fit in at school. Wasn't part of any clique group - until I accidentially formed one consisting of other outcasts. Then non-outcasts began joining and soon I was kicked out. Odd how things work out sometimes, isn't it?
Growing up I had a vague sense of being different than my classmates. Mostly it was because my family was so much poorer than the others. Most of the other kids in the neighborhood, and at school, wore better clothing. Their parents drove better cars. Their houses were newer. They had better bicycles and most of the latest gadgets. They talked about taking trips, and doing things to which I just could not relate. But that wasn't the only reason I was an outcast.
None of my classmates came to school smelling like fuel oil in cold months. I did. All the time. You just cannot wash that smell out of your skin, no matter how hard you scrub - with Lava Soap. Ouch!
I also had a very off-the-wall sense of humor. I could - and did - make fun of anything, everything, and everyone. Including me. Few people can tolerate being made fun of. Not sure why. I've endured it all my life. It seems to go with being alive, doesn't it? Anyway, few of my classmates (and even fewer of my teachers) liked it at all. But I didn't care. And I wasn't afraid to tell them so.
Perhaps that was their greatest objection to me. I told them I had no problem living without them. I didn't need them in my life, and they didn't like that at all.
Midway through my senior year things changed. Daddy died. He had died on January 4th. After that I no longer felt a part of the world around me. As I think about it now I realize something: that has never changed. I still feel disconnected. It's like a part of me is gone which should not be gone. It's a strange feeling actually. Lonely. But I've always been lonely, I think. That goes back to my earliest memories.
I avoided the yearbook cameras after that. I did not go to the photography studio to get a senior picture, so I had no photos to exchange with anyone. But that was all right for, just as I had predicted, no one asked. Well, nearly no one. Two girls from the grade below asked. No one from my class.
When graduation neared I did not participate in any of the pre-ceremony activities. Was forced to attend the rehearsal because that took place during school hours. But I requested no tickets for family members. When asked why I said it was because I was not intending on being at the ceremony. I was criticized by the principal, but I told him I didn't give a damn what he thought. One teacher understood. Mrs. K. She was my creative writing teacher, and she always worked with the senior class, especially during graduation. She said she was glad. She didn't say why, but I expect it was because she understood it was my decision and not someone else's.
Unfortunately for me, I did attend my graduation. I was not happy about it.
Mother had waited for me to tell her about the ceremony and such. She never asked. My guess is that she knew the date and time but wanted me to ask her to come. She did things like that. I wouldn't ask. Didn't. So it was never talked about. Then, on the night of the ceremony, about two hours before it began, she asked about it. (This is why I think she knew all along. But she was distressed to learn I could actually out-wait her.)
Aren't they having a graduation ceremony for your class?
Yeah. I suppose.
When is it?
Whenever.
She was angry with me for not telling her, but I started up the stairs. Didn't matter to me. In two hours it would be too late. But I hadn't reckoned on Helvie. Helvie told mother the ceremony was that night. I was ordered downstairs.
Why didn't you tell me?
Why should I? I'm not going. Why do you want to?
You are going! Get yourself ready. Right now.
I don't want to go.
Yes, you do. You'll thank me for this in twenty years.
And so I was made to go. I was angry, angry, angry. And since I hadn't requested tickets, Mother and Helvie didn't fare too well, either. They had to sit up in the bleachers instead of in the nice chairs close to the stage.
I stood in line while strangers came by to shake hands with the graduates and congratulate them. As soon as protocol allowed, I was out of line and turning in my robe. Mrs. K was handing the real diplomas to graduates as they did this. When she saw me she smiled.
So, you came after all.
I had to. Mother made me.
Oh. I'm sorry.
Various classmates who had treated me like dirt and sh*t for twelve years now came up to me with big smiles and talked about how great it was going to be. Then they all said the same thing: See you at the class reunion. I gave them all the same response: No you won't.
I have kept that promise. The only classmates I have seen since high school have been Stephen, Randy, and Chris. Bumped into a couple of others by accident, but have never sought out those who once hated me. Never saw the point. If I didn't matter to them then, I wasn't likely to matter to them now. I would like to know what happened to Vicky, though. Didn't seek her out because she got married right out of high school. Didn't think I would be appreciated. [smiles]
This year marks the 35th anniversary since my graduation. I had no party. Not really. Two weeks after the ceremony Mother invited my brother and sisters to the apartment (we had lost the house after Daddy died and moved out of the area). Stephen called that day. He had spent the time since graduation searching for me. Coincidentally, he found me that day.
It's been 35 years, and now I look back and remember what Mother told me that evening: "You'll thank me for this in twenty years." I didn't thank her. Won't. After 35 years I'm still not thankful. I should have stayed home that night.
4 comments:
just as I had predicted, no one asked. Well, nearly no one. Two girls from the grade below asked. No one from my class.
Not quite no one!
It's a pity your mother forced you, though. You knew better than she did what you wanted.
A correction in English? Oh, well.
It's the way most people raised their kids back then. It was a tried and true method for decades. But the world was changing like it had never done before. The iron rods of corporal punishment and making people do things they don't want to do don't work so well anymore.
I am envious when you write about the fun you had with your friends in school. Now you say you were hated and lonely? I'm thinking it's more likely you were depressed. Depression colors everything in shades of gray and black. (Been there, done that.)
You're right about class reunions, though. It's pointless to go see that the rich kids had successful lives and the poor kids had average lives--why would you want to go spend time with them?
If you note, when I talk about having fun it was almost always with Stephen, Randy, and/or Chris. Or I was doing someone alone. Generally, I was far from popular in school. I was against the cliques and made no secret of the fact that they disgusted me.
Often I played in my own yard with a bat and ball. Or I hiked across the countryside.
I wasn't exactly "hated" by everyone, although that did occur. But it was considered bad form to be friends with me. Actually had someone confess that in my yearbook.
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