Huh.
Well, one thing I learned was there were teachers that care enough about their students to help them identify and address bullies. Mr. Meyers, thank you, rest in peace. I had to pretty much go solo in grade school, relying on flipping and sitting on them until they turned blue.
Then, standing up for myself in the cafeteria a year or so later, I was granted a three day sabbatical for pugilism. My American History teacher, Mr. Hilsabeck, wrote my parents a letter attesting to my character and that it was not like me to engage in that behavior.
My senior year on the field, my OL coach saw potential and let me grow fully into it as a starter for the remaining seven games. Coach Schreiner’s confidence in me offered a path to continue and play in college.
And somehow the writing seeds were planted. You know how that crop has turned out.
The best but toughest thing I learned in high school was the fact that others saw things in me then that I have been blind to for much of my life.
To be honest, looking back, a major contributing factor was the clique system there. As a 5′ x 5′ freshman, I was at the bottom of the food chain. Cannot recall what name was assigned to that, in addition to “frosh”. Nerd? Dork? No clue. But I had my group of friends and we had our fun.
Then when I sprouted six or seven inches over that summer, I jumped to the head of the class, and became a jock. Literally over night, went from being a “nothing” to “everything”. Well, at least according to the design, implementation and maintenance of the clique system.
Had I recognized this for what it was, excuse mon francais – bovine feces – perhaps I would have handled the high school experience a tad different. Then, I would have been much better prepared for college and beyond. Despite outward appearances that may suggest otherwise, it has been a slow motion train derailment ever since.
Back then, somehow I was me.
At least a portion.
But that part had to be unraveled so as to weave the fiction.
Listening is one part of the high school and life experience. However, therein lay the superficiality of the moment, the falsehoods of engaging in perpetual indescretion and granting ego massaging priority first and foremost.
But hearing what is genuinely being said, verbally or in written form, will forever remain. It just takes presence. Patience. and above all, trust.
That is what I have learned.
Albeit, post secondary.
...my temporary assignment. 