Stephen King and I Agree

High School. Here’s my take... As you may already know, I come from a small town. Before moving to Virginia Beach during the summer of 1968, I attended a K-12 school in Perth, New York. For those unfamiliar with the nomenclature, I went to a school that housed kindergarten through twelfth grade under one roof. Everyone rode back and forth together on the same small fleet of buses, about a dozen if my memory serves me. I rode on bus number seven.

And the school was not very large. I have a yearbook from my last year at Perth Central and it is thinner than the junior high school yearbook I had when I was a freshman in Virginia Beach.

The class of 1974 back in my hometown took up only two classrooms during its elementary years. The Perth Central 1974 yearbook (viewable on the Classmate’s website) shows all fifty-one class members. Yes… fifty-one. I looked through them and found that I recognized almost all the names... and faces. When I graduated from Kellam High School in 1974 in Virginia Beach, our class size was exponentially larger… ten times as many. Yet when I browse through the photos in that yearbook, I can put fewer names with faces. Not many knew me, and vice versa.

For the record, Perth Central School no longer exists. Even the town of Perth has grown beyond having a K-12 school.

I was once invited to a Perth Central School “All Years” reunion. I didn’t go, but I appreciated the invite. It came from folks I had not seen since the late 1960s, who knew of me and my relatives in the area. This was in stark contrast to my once reaching out to one of the organizers of a particular Kellam High School reunion in Virginia Beach twenty (or so) years ago.

My track record with Kellam High School reunions is not a good one. I attended just one, the first in 1984, and even then, I did so reluctantly. The decision to attend was last-minute. Two former classmates appeared at my door, stopping by on their way to the festivities, and talked me into going with them. I had just moved back to Virginia Beach from Texas two weeks earlier and was barely settled in. Unfortunately, Laura could not attend on such short notice.

I remember some of it. A vast sea of faces. They took my money at the door. It was a whopping twelve dollars (compare that to the cost of attending a reunion these days). I still have the handwritten receipt.

Once inside, I remember across-the-room nods from some. I recognized a few faces; the names now escape me. It was interesting. Those were simpler times—no social media, no internet, people talked to each other… civilly.

When the 20th reunion came around, I was working in Germany… a two-month trip. Attending was not an option.

The 30th reunion coincided with a hectic time in my life. I was traveling… a lot… leaving home every Monday morning and returning the following Friday night. Because of my busy schedule, I opted for family time and rest instead of the reunion. But it was what happened after the reunion that changed my attitude towards any future get-togethers.

Shortly after the 30th reunion, I contacted a certain person who helped organize it… I told him I had heard there was a booklet given out that contained contact information for class members. I asked if I could have one, even offering to pay. He said no… telling me the booklet was available only to those who attended the reunion. That is when I realized not much had changed since high school for some.

The 40th and 45th reunions came and went. I easily could have attended both but chose not to. The 50th is around the next corner… it should not surprise you that I have no plans to attend.

The truth is, I was not a fan… of high school that is. I couldn’t wait for it to be over. I didn’t fit in very well; at least, that’s how it felt. I had a few close friends. Only one was class of 74… the others were all 75 and 76. Long story short, it was not until college that I felt like I had taken a step out of the shadows. By the close of 1975, Laura was in my life, and I knew things were changing for me. I had no trouble putting my high school days behind me.

Steven King once took the point to an extreme. I find his words amusing, if not accurate in my case…

"I hated high school. I don't trust anybody who looks back on those years from 14 to 18 with any enjoyment. If you liked being a teenager, there's something wrong with you." – Stephen King