As I recall

Do you remember the quotes and thought provoking tidbits you were given your senior year in high school?

Was it just my high school that did that? The passing of a senior class was very heavy and fraught with deep pondering on the meaning of life and future.

Anyway, if you had an English teacher like mine, you were thrown muses and deeper meaning every single one of the 180ish days of your final year.

I suppose it’s useful. Putting into perspective the vast scope of what’s to come.

I still remember some of them.

Carpe diem.
If you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything.
Always be the one in the relationship who loves a little less.
Simplify, simplify, simplify.
Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.

There was also one about being angels with one wing and having to hold each other to fly or something. I never quite got that one.

I would not be a deep, pondering teacher of young minds. I think that’s why I’ve never wanted to teach. Especially teenagers. I’d be too busy wanting to smack them and scream, “Oh my god, get your shit together! You are such a brat!”

I know that the deep and pondery teachers meant well, and I’m not saying it didn’t have an effect – obviously it did, I mean, I still remember it all these years later – but I simply don’t remember the majority of the life lessons they tried to impart. My most vivid memory of senior year is not graduating, or feeling particularly enlightened…

My best friend and I were having some issues, and frankly I don’t even know what it was about. I don’t know why we were upset, but there were tears and crossed arms and during fourth period we got sent to the girls’ room to talk it out (seriously, I am at a loss as to what we were being so dramatic about. I’m sure it was important at the time). We stood sullenly in the girls’ room and traded curt words, until a series of the most violent diarrhea-ic explosions ever came ballooning out of the stall on the end. We held in hysterical laughter and relocated nonchalantly to the hallway, where eventually the severe, proper, frigidly long skirted and frizz haired librarian emerged.

It’s been almost 15 years and I remember that like it was yesterday. Not Beowulf or the Canterbury Tales’ prologue, but squirty poop Mrs. Henson.

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