As I find myself stuck in a painfully slow security line at the Southwest terminal of LAX, I can’t help but make a quip to the strangers around me. “If we go any slower, we might as well be going backwards,” I mutter, just loud enough for a few heads to turn.
Suddenly, I hear my name. I glance back to find Mike, an old high school friend I haven’t seen in 20 years. I always thought he was great, but I’m taken aback by how easily he recognizes me. “You look just the same,” he says with a smile. “Still a redhead with a quick wit and a love for shoes.” I glance down at my glittery sandals and feel a wave of embarrassment. I realize I had a pair almost identical to these back in high school. While I’m flattered he remembers, I’m horrified that my taste hasn’t evolved much since then.
Panic sets in. “Oh no!” I think in dismay. “I don’t want to be the same person I was back then! High school was a disaster, and I’ve worked so hard to be different!” My mind races through the flight from Los Angeles to JFK, and I cringe at the thought of being perceived as that high school version of myself.
Like many, I remember my high school years with a sense of dread. My primary goal was to fit in and be invisible. Armed with braces and an unfortunate penchant for excessive hairspray, I never met a shoulder pad I didn’t love. I’ve spent years overcoming that awkward, invisible phase of my life. The idea that someone might see me as that same clumsy girl is unsettling. What if they only see the girl who was late to bloom and early to wear braces?
Yet, as I ponder this, I realize high school wasn’t entirely terrible. I had an amazing group of girlfriends—I’m still searching for that camaraderie. The ’80s fashion was wild and exhilarating, and the music was unforgettable. I felt like the star of a John Hughes film, but in my version, the popular guy didn’t rescue me; instead, he and his friends tried to cheat off me in AP math or egged my house after a party.
Interestingly, I still jam to the same music from those days. Morrissey is never too far from my playlist, and The English Beat remains a classic. Although I’ve ditched the shoulder pads and loafers, my hair still bears a resemblance to my senior portrait—thankfully, I didn’t overdo the hairspray back then. Plus, I still have that witty redhead charm and an insatiable love for shoes, just as Mike pointed out. Those tastes began in high school and continue to shape who I am.
So, perhaps I’m not all that different from my high school self. Maybe none of us are. High school is where we first establish our preferences and make attempts to express who we are. It’s a time filled with first crushes and heartaches, daydreams about the future, and yes, a few jerks who tried to take advantage of our kindness.
Next time I bump into an old high school acquaintance, I’ll take it as a compliment if they say I haven’t changed. Upon reflection, high school wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe I wasn’t either.
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Summary:
Reflecting on high school can evoke mixed feelings, but it’s also a period that shapes who we become as adults. While we may think we’ve changed dramatically since then, certain core aspects of our personalities and interests remain. Embracing the past, including our high school selves, can lead to a kinder understanding of our journey.