Stories, realities, and metaphors: A look back at High School

There are many shades of life, for vision, sun protection, or simple fanshionista purposes. You might feel a brand new pair of shades fits the contours of your face unlike any pair ever before. And even if you have a sack full of completely competent shades, the new ones you have found still feel superior perched on your nose. In films and stories shades can be the helping hand for many a super hero, spy, and or a fabulous 80’s icon. I have worn many shades through my life, but as time goes by, my face has grown, and matured, in fact many of my shades (or sunglasses) have either gone amiss, or acquired scratches to the point where I had to buy new ones. When I was a child I owned a pair of rose-colored heart shaped glasses, which served no purpose other than to style my Charmkins (google 80’s toys Charmkins); no protection from UV rays or even basic shading for viewing purposes. In High School I was obsessed with funky eyewear, I knew with the right sunglasses my confidence level was strangely boosted. I once had a pair of sleek black rimmed frames with blue tinted shades that I loved, only because the crush of my life commented on how “cool” they were in the parking lot of a Waffle House one day. I had another pair of large round Audrey Hepburn style glasses, except they were designed with clear ruby red plastic frames and clear blue lenses. I’d purchased them in Little Five Points, only to leave them by accident on the top of my friend Mikalees car one day; as we drove off I was so pissed. In college (SVA) I had a favorite pair of DKNY shades that were actually damaged in a near fatal car accident with my mother. So I tried to buy some knock off brands of glasses in Chinatown, which looked hip for style, but would easily fall apart. For several years now I have loved and owned a pair of Tommy glasses, with big huge brown lenses and brown/cream colored frames. The hue of my life however has always been full of glamour, just like the glasses, except I saw the world a little differently through each tinted pair.

I suppose I have always looked at life in shades and tints, shapes and colors, and I often wonder, does anyone, will anyone, ever see life like I do? In High School I presented a speech at the Baccalaureate, (basically a pre-graduation ceremony). It felt good standing up in front of peers and strangers, choking on my own words with genuine emotion about the way I saw the world. Before that speech, I never had much identity in High School. I mean everyone knew of me, but not many people really knew what I was about, other than that art chick who wondered the halls with her walkman permanently affixed to here head. Mostly I was just trying to tune out the masses of people until classes commenced. I was a little less strange than (for example) Laney Boggs from “She’s all that”, except Freddy Prince never asked me out, and my shining moment in HS was not because of some guy who helped me see my inner beauty and trudged me out of my shell, I had to that on my own. Actually… that’s a lie, it’s cause of my mother.

My mother and I went to some parent teacher thing one evening towards the end of my senior year (rather she dragged me kicking and screaming). I was sitting bored off my rocker in the auditorium, probably pulling hairs out of my head, or picking a the dry cuticles of my nails, listening to what sounded like the “whah whah whah” of Charley Browns teacher. Then there was some mention about trying out for graduation speeches, afterwards my mother said, “You could do that?” I was thinking, "What? Work on a speech, only to have it turned down?” Like when I submitted work for the HS newspaper? No thanks, I didn’t really need extra rejection in the grand scheme of my public schooling days.

But my mother, who knew me very well (and read a lot of my writing apparently behind my back) felt I had the chops to present a kick-ass speech for graduation. However, I knew the school only really picked the “smart kids” who got like 3.5 GPA’s. Yet despite my bitter outlook on the politics of school, I did it anyway, for my mother. I presented my original speech in front of Coach Bounds, Coach Seals, and a camcorder. I didn’t get to speak at graduation (surprise), but because my writing was (in fact so) good I got to speak at the Baccalaureate. It was Coach Bounds who told me he wished I could have spoken at the graduation, but that because of the limited amount of time, and other people who were designated to speak (AKA the politics of HS hierarchy), there was no way to fit me in to the program. So that’s how I wound up speaking at the Baccalaureate.

For those of you who missed out on my monumental analogy of life (sarcasm), I will try to recap it here. Basically my whole life, and life since HS I have always viewed the world and myself in it as one large painting that I create. I can paint over places I have been to show where I am now, or remove and replace people who’ve come and gone from the image of my life, and so forth. I can paint scars or take them away, I can show hurt, and replace it with a happy aftermath. It’s kinda a brilliant way to see life really, the ever-changing canvas, and an eternally moving image in paint. Sometimes people ask me, “How do you know when one of your paintings is done?” I tell them, because it will look on the canvas how I envisioned it in my head. And that is how life is to me, and why the picture always changes. Because I want my life to be how I envision it to be. As we grow we change, and may want different things, and new circumstances can come into our lives that we enjoy, so we want to add to the vision. So that is why the painting in my mind is never complete. I am always creating it. Which is ultimately what my speech conveyed: That we are all artists, because “we are the creators of our own lives.” We each have a painting that we are constantly redrawing, adding onto, taking things away from, etc.... It was (if I say so myself) a lovely little speech that I put a lot of thought into. Before I gave the speech at the ceremony, the principal actually told me I needed to cut it down a little, for time purposes. I never did. Why? First let me explain, I am nor have I ever been the kind of person to hold grudge, like ever! However, I had some serious beef with this woman that I couldn’t quite hurdle over… Point and case one, I forgot a very important homework assignment at home my junior year, and she wouldn’t let me call my mother, so I began to have a panic attack and she told me I was being rude! Eventually the front desk lady felt bad for me, and let me sneak a call… Point two: when I called 911 when I found a janitor (after school hours) foaming at the mouth (after he’d stupidly mixed bleach and ammonia), and never got a thank you! Point three, when she mentioned memorable art students at some speech she gave, she somehow failed to mention me, even though she’d personally had written me a congratulations letter when I got through the first round of tests and tryouts for Governors Honors in hrmmm ART!… so yeeeaaah… I felt a little like Mozart (in the movie Amadeus) and this lady was telling me my writing had too many notes! Whatever, I didn’t owe her anything, it’s not like I was getting paid to do this, and so I read it exactly the same way I had presented it during my audition, and wouldn’t you know, everyone thought it was pretty awesome anyway. Later on I got a letter saying she wanted a copy of the speech to inspire future designated speakers. I always felt bad about it, but I never gratified her request. If I could go back in time, I think I would have given it to her, but honestly I was a pretty bitter teenager, not just towards her, but every one else who’d never seen my true potential until that moment. Snobbery, I know, but I was actually pretty snobby in high school, I surprisingly realized that I had very little humility about my talents, and when they were recognized. It was my art teacher Mrs. Owen who gently mentioned to me that when people told me my art was great, that it would be in better taste to say “thank you” instead of “I know.” It was hard for me to find such genuine humility because my whole life I was made to believe I was a loser when I wasn’t by the board of education, and most of my peers. Eventually I was able to say “thank you” without the chip on my shoulder, the chip that reminded me that I could do something others could only dream of doing. Today things are a little different, I never take a compliment of my work for granted, or maybe I just appreciate it more, because I actually like the people who are giving the compliments… Whatever the reason, I never get tired of hearing how someone loves my work, how it inspires them, and the like.

But getting back to my original train of thought, when I wrote that speech ten years ago, I really just wanted to show everyone, that I was basically like them. That I did all the same stuff, felt all the same emotions, and in that moment, I hope some of those kids maybe realized that. Giving that talk, I felt completely uncovered and empowered. My identity was finally shown, that I was not just some sunglass wearing portfolio toting freak. I was just a normal teenager trying to graduate High School. Why am I thinking about all this? Well, my ten-year HS reunion is rapidly approaching, and I am kinda sad, because a lot of people (friends) who really did know me in High School missed that speech. And sadly, a lot of them will miss this reunion. Mostly cause they didn’t feel a strong connection with the school or the people in it, or they have moved, think it’s dumb to reconnect with a bunch of people they never really knew or liked, or they don’t feel like they have anything to prove. And of course distance, (which is completely understandable, I wouldn’t be going if I still lived in NY.) All valid reasons I suppose, but I guess I am going, not to prove something, but because I did have a connection with those people. A lot of those kids I went to elementary school with, and middle school with. Good or bad, it was a connection, and what shaped my life. In my speech, I mentioned that no matter what the experience was, each of those experiences changed me and made me a stronger person. So for me it doesn’t matter anymore if kids alienated me, or that I was never a cheerleader or involved in the debate team, because if I had been part of a different click, I might not have turned out to be me, and I wouldn’t really want to be anyone else. And for that matter I did attend one debate team meeting, BORING! It’s funny cause unlike a lot of kids I never bothered to try and fit in. I mean I never really fit into a click, but looking back, everyone knew me for some reason. Whether it was because they thought I did drugs (because I fell asleep in class due to my acute insomnia), or because they though I had bulimia (because I threw up a few times during physical exercise in middle school, and was a total bean pole). PS yes I am laughing hysterically while writing this, cause it’s all true, people really thought these things about me. And in a way, isn’t that a form of popularity (ha ha ha)? If there was a US Weekly for High School there probably would have been a thumbnail picture of me in the bottom right hand corner face down on a desk passed out in Spanish class saying “Is Olivia on Drugs? Friends try to reach out by taking her to the local Waffle House to eat something.” But no worries, just to set the record straight, I never even tried drugs, nor did I ever have an eating disorder, just naturally thin and crazy, lol.

I don’t want to knock high school all together; I had a great time for someone with a half emerging self-esteem, and I was really pretty sad when it all ended. Surprisingly I realized the other day, I was almost barely with out a boyfriend from sophomore year on, so I must have been doing something right to attract so many guys, and not all of them were half bad looking. Overall my fondest memories didn’t always include kids in my grade or even the school, like meeting Jenny and Will Taylor (two seniors) in the cafeteria one day who changed my life and how I saw it, being involved in missions trips with my youth group at Christ Church Presbyterian, flirting with cute guys who didn’t go to my school while drinking too much coffee and loitering at the Waffle House in Cobb county with Mikalee Walker, Katy Cook, and Sina C, riding around listening to Lauren Hill and Beastie Boys with Katy Momeni when we would drive to our after school art class Senior year, and lastly getting a crap load of awards for being an awesome artist at a variety of juried High School exhibitions. But if I were to say what my best memories at my actual High School were, Melissa Keen introducing me to the magic of face glitter at a Riverwood football game, participating in drama from tenth grade on, junior prom when I went with my still friend now Brad Feldman and Mikalee, jamming out to the radio in the art room making art with Sarah, Lucia, Amber and Tasida, meeting up with Aaron in the mornings and having some decent conversations and mildly witty banter, my one and only skip day with Mikalee, and getting to know a plethora of underclassmen and hopefully inspiring them to be themselves. Yeah, those were some favorite times for me, just to name a few. I mean when I think about all the things I didn’t have to worry about, I really wish I could go back and relive it, if only to appreciate the freedom I had a bit more.

It’s funny in a way to even think about all this, cause I have lived so many different lives, going to three colleges for an undergrad was strangely something I had talked about. It was senior year, I was in Ms.Brandons art class with Mikalee and Tasida, and we were talking about college, and I said, “Wouldn’t it be cool to go to a different school every year?!” To which they realistically put, “Yeah but it would take you a long time to finish school…” Which was true, I went to school for five years and attended 3 colleges in 3 different cities, which was actually pretty rad. UGA credits for some reason didn’t really transfer over to art school in New York, go figure… I think it was my final school in New York where I did ultimately feel at home, and made lifelong friends, and had I not met my now husband, I would probably still be there. So when I think of all I have done, the people I have met, High School is such a small portion, and thankfully in college I got to do all the things I didn’t get to do in high school, and so much more. Honestly, I am not the same person I was then, there might be some similarities, but if one year can change a person than ten years can transform.

After High School I would bump into people from River wood who I’d never really hung out with, but I never felt like the fact that we weren’t bosom buddies in HS prevented us from being cordial to each other once out in the real world. In HS you never realize you are in a bubble, until you leave the bubble, but it is a bubble. I think when I went to visit colleges with my mother I realized what High School was, and that I was about to escape. I was ready to leave, and reinvent myself, or perhaps just meet my full potential. I knew then what I know now, that I was always better than what I was made to feel in High School. Thank goodness for my art teachers, they all took me under their wing and made me believe in what I was meant to do. Thank goodness for Mrs. Owen for helping me find my humility, and my mother for making me do things outside of the bubble. Because the way peers make you feel can statistically effect how you are for the rest of your life. And I hate to get on my soapbox about it, but the way kids treated me did effect me. While I harbor no resentment today, I suffered with body image issues for years, among other issues like financial status and the like. In defense of bullies however, I realize I too wasn’t always as nice as I could have been to others. I shunned a lot of people and refused to date certain guys because of what other people said about them, and I realize now that teenagers are really stupid, and simply don’t understand that’s not how life is. That we don’t just date someone cause they are sexy and cool, we date them cause they actually have something called substance. And that in the real world you don’t get to choose who you eat lunch with everyday, that you might just have to sit next to someone you don’t like in the break room. Over all it’s pretty amazing how superficial and brutal kids are to each other. It’s no joke, and when I read articles by doctors and parents about the same peer issues I went through, I realize how lucky I was to have a great network of friends, supportive parents, my creativity and intuitive teachers to get me through all of it. Not all kids have that, and that’s why many of them go nuts and either commit suicide or shoot up schools… sorry to get morbid, but it’s the truth, and whenever I hear about those things, my heart does go out to those kids who never had a chance, never had the good role models I had, never had the teacher that pushed them to do better things with their lives. I realize it’s also a personality element too, I have always been the knock me down and I get right back up kinda gal. Not sure where that comes from completely, but my mom tells me I was always that way.

When I was around seven I wanted to roller skate like the big kids at Sparkles, (which I hear has been torn down). My mom said it was painful to watch how many times I would fall, but she said I got back up to try again every time, without crying or complaining once. I’ve never been a quitter, that’s for sure.

But back to what I was saying… teachers, yeah some of them were pretty amazing. I don’t know what faculty might show up at this thing, but I thought one of the coolest things any teacher of mine ever did was when Mrs. Roberts (I think that was her name) made us write a letter to ourselves about where we wanted to be in like five years. She promised she would send those letters to us. When I read that letter, I funnily enough realized that all my dreams, things I wanted to do, where ultimately happening. That in HS I knew exactly what I was, an artist, and once again I am lucky because a lot of people never know what they are, or what they want to do with their lives. They struggle to pick a major in college, or to find work that makes them happy. A lot of people simply have to settle on something they feel pretty mediocre about.

Anyway, like most of my writings, this one is becoming one stuffed burrito. But I look forward to my 10 year reunion for one reason alone, that I can finally be who I am today, and enjoy some time with my fellow alumni the way I think I would have liked to have spent it back in the day. I am no longer the shy skinny girl in the art room, afraid of acceptance, who felt she had to wear a variety of shades to hide behind, I can just be myself, and so can everyone else.