by Mark Zeiger

Created on: March 08, 2009

Like most people, I've fantasized about time travel occasionally. If I had one chance to return to the past in order to communicate with myself, I'd most likely return to my senior year in high school. I'd seek myself out, make sure I had my full attention, then I'd say, "Lighten up! Don't worry! All of this will not matter to you later!" Had I known then how true that would be, even as soon as a year later when I entered college, I would have had a much better time in high school.

My high school years weren't bad. In fact, they were pretty good. They weren't, however as crucial as I thought at the time. The events that held such import for me then are barely memorable now, 30 years later. Nor did they matter any more to me 20 years after the fact, or even five.

The senior class motto that hung on the auditorium wall above our miter boarded heads at graduation read: "Today we stand on the threshold of our future." I had written those trite words myself. The search committee had found only two acceptable mottoes for the event, so just before voting I composed a few "dummies" to fill out the ballot a bit more. When we counted the votes, my dummy motto had carried the day! In retrospect, I should have written, "Today we stand on the threshold of our lives." Viewed from this side of my personal history, in many ways it's almost as if I hadn't been born until I graduated from high school.

Sadly, I had learned incorrectly that my high school years would significantly impact my whole life. I saw examples all around me in our small town: middle aged men who were known to be members of the state basketball championship team in particular years. Older women were renowned as cheerleaders in their day. Our high school principal was less respected for his good work than for his history as a basketball coach in a neighboring town. A lot of who a person was perceived to be depended on whom they had been. On my few visits back there, I see that this is still very much the case.

This isn't how things are done in the real world, I discovered. Outside of my school, no one particularly cared what I'd done or who I'd been. Other than college entrance boards and scholarship committees, it didn't matter what triumphs or tragedies I accumulated or suffered in high school. In some cases, if I reported some honor I'd won in high school, the clear message became, "that was then, what can you do now?"

Even more to the point, I discovered that life held adventures, surprises and experiences

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>