A US college student, who’s blog I follow, titled her piece: I regret to inform you all that I miss high school. Athena Scalzi, on her blog Whatever, (Dec 16, 2020) received 87 comments, most of them lengthy, over two days. Her readers are mostly older nerds and science fiction fans. Smart, I mean. Yet by and large, her smart commenters did not like high school.
One lady was pleased to report a spontaneous reply, back in high school, without having to wait until 2:00 in the morning to think of it: A neighbour had told her, “These are the best years of your life.” She replied, “If that’s the case, then shoot me now!”
Today’s piece is 1,323 words. I will curate my comments to Athena. For my first one, I considered that Athena would do well to “get involved:”
My, lots of comments, as always, because you pick good topics.
I enjoyed the one year of senior high I did. Our two feeder junior highs had a high crime and a 50 percent drop out rate (the economy was better then) so senior high, where we felt safe at last, and could have school spirit, was wonderful. It’s all relative.
Athena, I heard a high school graduation speech where the teacher, who later went on to be principal, said, “Remember how you started this big school, felt alone, and you didn’t like it? And then you joined a club and suddenly it was all right.” …It’s the same in the “real world” when you get a job in another town. The trick is to join something, look into the local history, and do whatever it takes to feel membership in your new town. Otherwise, the town is a glorified bedroom.
Clubs make it easier to have those college ‘meaning of life” talks.
At college one of the most active clubs to join is those crazy cats at the student newspaper, who have a reason to go all over campus. At mine, because “nobody grew up LGBT” the club for them had the most educational activities and guest speakers, on a weekly basis.
Myself, I would have a “beat,” not as as reporter, but as a student to ask folks my question of the day, often to answer another student’s question. “I’ll ask around and get back to you” I’d say.
For another comment, I guess I was more realistic, for I mentioned psychology, something nearly all of Athena’s readers failed to consider.
I suppose if I were in a new city, still getting assimilated, still relatively cold and lonely, then I might go have a night of telling acquaintances in a bar about my old town. Kurt Vonnegut once referred to having within his body chemicals and hormones for why he liked—I forget what or who.
I guess if you aren’t having lots of interactions now then your body would say, “I’m less happy” and “I miss how it was.”
One of Athena’s readers, KC, focused on how to have parties. This after Athena wrote: I also miss high school because parties were exciting, and fun, and in college, they’re just boring. KC advised creating her own unusual parties. This made sense, so I added to it:
I like what KC said, including (but not limited to) creating unconventional parties. Whenever I or someone else did so, after diplomatically beating around the bush to finally get some “buy in,” it always worked out fine. I mean, always.
One or more years (I forget how many) after high school I got a letter for a reunion, (sent to the old family home) complete with a list of people they couldn’t find. A short list, and ALL my favourite people were on it.
One of the reasons I use my full name on the web is I don’t want to culturally appropriate the code names of street kids. You may recall that after Buffy ran away from home she ended up relinquishing her code name “Ann,” returning home, and visiting the college where her high school friends are attending. The scraps of conversation she overhears in the halls are always intellectual and excited about education. Poor Buffy.
But if she went to a typical student party, with folks crowding the stairs, she would find that the students were acting like clones of non-students their age. Non-students? What’s the point?
You can indeed find parties of students excited for this time in their lives, (I did) but as KC knows, it takes a little initiative.
One commenter hated both high school and college until at last he found the right major. Now he’s living happily ever after. In the working world, of course, happiness is often based on whether you are similar to your coworkers.
Chris, above, changed majors. When I was a college tour guide there was an obscure corner I always stopped my group; I would say that a number of them would change majors, adding that it is a good idea, besides other signs, to “notice which students you are spending your time and weekends with.”
I’m still chuckling at my classmates telling a prof I was changing to another major and her replying sharply, “Where he belongs!” Not only had she seen me with them, but a guy had talked about me to her.
It occurred to me that part of “fitting in” to a big campus is fitting in to classrooms, small and big.
Besides participating on campus, I was able to participate in those huge large sloping lecture theatre classes, provided they were the type where participation was allowed.
Part of the trick is to “think before you speak,” don’t be oblivious to how your question/comment fits in, and “set your intention.” My intent was to help the professor with his class, and to help my classmates.
When I needed help once, because I would be away working, I went to the prof in his office and he gave me tips and shortcuts because he knew I was a keener who showed up all the time to his theatre class. … I guess a prof may not remember your words, but he will remember how you made him feel, to quote writer Maya Angelou.
Too bad students at my old university won’t have a certain experience that I had.
Here’s an idea that you or others out in college-land, post-covid, might want to try:
As you know, most college students are apathetic. (From the Greek “a” without, and “path” spirit) But the few who are getting life out of college, although few in percentage points, are numerous enough that they knew each other’s faces (or names) because, well, active. … You get out of college what you put in.
Would the apathetic students, in the student building, continue up the stairwell PAST the food court to notice a big poster? Would they read the student newspaper or see the student TV or hear the student radio? Answer is no, no, and no. So that is where we advertised that we had a temporary liquor license for Friday afternoons for a certain lounge above the tavern. Our excuse was “to handle the tavern overflow.” Good excuse, eh? The club offices, to be sure, had word-of-mouth.
Therefore, when the apathetic types suddenly discovered their school spirit on Friday, to cram like idiot sardines into the student tavern, unable to meet any new people… we band of siblings, we happy few, had a lounge where we all recognized each other. Often with paid entertainment.
All good things have to come to an end: Eventually the “establishment,” aka the administration, found out and they informed the huge hordes of incoming frosh (freshman) every year, which ruined it.
Someone commented to include a comic link. So I endorsed the comic strip.
I like how the Sheldon comic, above, had a nice ending for everybody.
And then the comments were closed.
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Sean Crawford, lucky to even have 87 readers, let alone 87 comments
In a timeless land
January 2021
