I started learning the green trade in high school and that was good.
Although the greenhouse and the plots I tended were in reality a prison farm.
High school was a bizarre socialization experiment.
It was thought up by adults who forced me to interact with cretins I might spit on if I met them anywhere else.
As if they were worthy of my spit.
As if I ever would associate with people like that.
I refused to get yearbook pictures taken.
I never bought a yearbook.
I never went to Prom, whatever that was.
I never went to graduation, despite Dad telling me I’d regret it later.
Like I’d shake the hands of my warders. Unless to get close enough to throw a punch.
I never told my parents how bad school really was.
My job was to graduate and that’s what I did.
The parents taught me to fight my own battles.
Problem is, a gang doesn’t care about that.
High school wasn’t Hollywood, where you singlehandedly fight the gang leader, defeat him, and then gain much respect.
Yeah, right.
Instead, all 12 gang members beat on you at once. That’s why they are a gang. Get it?
Good.
My Mom would get reunion letters addressed to me and forward them on.
I finally told her that if I went to a reunion it would be with a chain saw.
She stopped forwarding them after that.
We talked a little after the Columbine High school massacre. Before people knew those punks had a social life and girlfriends.
I told her what Chris Rock said about the OJ Simpson case.
“OJ was wrong. But I understand.”
Are your children talking to you about what’s happening in high school?
Or are they fighting their own battles?
