School Days...

[Srbo]

I don’t remember that it was ever snowing that hard, like on that December day back in 1998.
Every snowflake, that fell on my hair, tried to tell me its own fairy tale, but there were no fairy tales left…they dried up, a few years before that. Or at least I didn’t hear one…nor felt one…
Mom and I were standing in front of the ruins that were once called our house, and I was quietly smoking, just looking around.
The snow was falling on us freely, but we didn’t look for any shelter, we just stood there, my suitcase right next to me, I just came back from Canada, to visit, looking at the remains of our burned down city.
I was standing in front of the ruins of my house and I wasn’t crying, wondering how come I am not.
I was looking towards a small hill that was located a little further left from my house, but because of the hard snowfall and many lifeless, dead, grotesque looking trees that were once alive growing there, I couldn’t see if it was still there.

“Listen son, lets go over to the neighbors house, their basement is still standing, they have a spare room…lets go warm up, eat something and rest…you must be really tired.. and I want to hear your stories from your travels…please don’t go over there" – said my mom, in a cheerful, but at the same time, very, very worried voice.
“Mom…you know I have to. You know… just like I do…”
She just sadly hung her head, grabbed my suitcase and said no more. She went on to our neighbors house.

Maybe I should have, but I didn’t listen to moms words. I went towards that little hill, towards that, what I hoped was still on top of it.
It was snowing harder in those moments, even though I thought that that was impossible.
"Harder yet ? "
Unreal.
And finally, I got there…where I wanted to be…to see.
My High School.
I didn’t cry before…but here?
Everywhere were ruins…nothing was left…except for pieces of the building that once was a school, shattered glass…and still, three years after…the smell of death lingering in the air…
No mercy there.

When I got into the city, and walked down the remains of the streets, I noticed, that for some unreal reason the Church was not destroyed. No glass on the windows, the detonations of the bombings shattered it…but otherwise, the building was there. For two months, my city was under heavy missile and artillery attack 24/7. Non stop. But, as for a real miracle…the Church stayed almost untouched.
So, I hoped then:
”If this stayed whole, a building where people go to be friends, to pray, to be closer to whatever is out there, to…Hope…
Maybe…maybe…they didn’t touch then that other building…the one full of innocence, full of dreams, kids hopes and first, hidden, kisses…”

But, they did.

I stood in front of those ruins and I still heard our laughter that came from our classrooms, I saw myself and my classmates how we were skipping classes to go and have fun elsewhere. Who wants to go to school ?

I saw my friend and classmate Boris, who tried to answer a question from Dostoyevskys “ Crime and Punishment “, when our literary teacher asked him about it…and when the professor asked why did Rodion kill that old women, he answered…”well, maybe he had a cold.”
The professor looked in disbelief at Boris, smiled and said that its maybe better that Boris may be excused…coz he was sure Boris had a cold.
I saw us, young guns, laying in the grass around the schoolyard, between classes, chewing gums and looking at the girlies…lying to each other how we went out last weekend with that or this girl for an ice cream and movies…and maybe, just maybe…kissed her…
I saw those girls passing by and the wind made their long hair fly proudly through it, like their hair were beautiful, free flags…in a land that doesn’t know hate…
I saw our Biology teacher, the most feared teacher in the whole school, sitting behind his desk, the one guy that made our life really miserable…but that day, he just sat there and didn’t say one word all class long…and still, not one of us dared to move an inch , or to speak… that’s how scared we were of him…
Month later we found out that he forgot his false set of teeth that morning at home…and that’s why he didn’t say a word all class long…

I saw so many things that afternoon…so much happyness, so much laughter….
And I also saw our faces, in a mild May afternoon of 1990, when the last school bell announced that our schooling there is over, and all of us were running out of that building happy, tearing our schoolbooks and notebooks apart and thinking that we are free now, finally…never knowing that we were free, really free, right there and then….

I turned around slowly…soaked with memories, snow…and tears…onto the path that only grownups walk…kids say that that path is stupid...but what do grownups know?
We don`t listen...

And I kept walking through the ruins of my city, to my neighbors basement, thinking that

From our cradles
To our graves
We will never forget
The beauty of our school days…



Care to share some school memories ?

Thanks for reading….

[SKfan2006]

if i told of any of my school memories you'll be getting alot of bull since school was not my favorite thing since i was always bullied and disliked.

[Srbo]

You did fight back, at least once, eh ? :cool2:
Care to share ? :smile2:

[Samantha_]

All right this is total stream of consciousness...

cut-off jean shorts, tire swings over creeks, four wheeling, making prom floats, football games, dances...

a crazy snow filled night four of us pulled one another on a saucer sled behind a four wheel drive...

making cheerleading team for two years and not the third, tennis team, dance team, pressure to make good grades...

writing letters in class instead of paying attention, laughing with my best friend, class rings, letter jackets, senior skip day...

writing: to err is human to forgive divine it is unfortunate the principle of my school is not divine but perhaps I should not have erred...

hiking, skipping stones across a creek, the lake, water skiing...

music, always music...

best friends, first love, true love and everything that came after that...

[boogerb53]

wow::wow: How truly beautiful, Srbo. You touch a part of my soul that no one has reached in a long time.

[Roseasharn]

Srbo, this won't even come close to what you wrote (it was beautiful, you know), but here are some of mine.

When I think of my school days, what I remember most was singing. Practicing, performing, competing. My first competition where I messed up and instead of covering like nothing happened, said "oh my" and THEN went into the next line like nothing happened. The first time my dad heard me sing an aria and relented and said opera didn't sound like dying cats. My high school sweetheart and his beautiful voice. Singing with him on anything and everything every chance I got. Choir trips and hotel food. Being a part of the only established couple on these trips and probably the only people who didn't try to sneak around and make out. Making out in our empty houses after practice. My dad never understanding why singing was the thing I wanted to do, but being there for every performance, every trip, every retreat in whatever support role he could. Him making fun of himself for not being able to sing. The good part of his family joking that "out-sourcing" for children was the only way to get a decent singer in the family. Worrying about the length of dresses and having my girlfriends tell me that "well, at least if you mess up no one will remember. They'll be too busy thinking about your legs". Never being able to take myself seriously enough. Laughing at our choir teacher when he tried to reign in the class' enthusiasm by saying "No, NO! not sixteen yards and a cloud of dust!" The competition where I sang "Can't help lovin dat man of mine" and fell off the chair I was so very seductively draping myself over. I laughed so hard that I missed a whole verse. And everywhere, music. Beautiful music in foreign languages that I couldn't understand or full of grown up yearnings I was just starting to understand. Disappoinment and heartbreak when I failed. But never for too long. Because there was always some other thing to get ready for. Elation and pride when I succeeded. But never for too long. Because there was always some other thing to get ready for. The first time I realized I was good, but not quite good enough. And then deciding I didn't much care because it was so much fun. It was like a little world inside the bigger world of high school. It was the best.

[Srbo]

Thank you so much on reading and your comments.
Rose and Samantha, your stories made me smile, some very nice memories there.
Thank Boogerb for your input as well.

What`s up with the rest of the board, you guys didn`t go to school or what ?:smile2:

[tillyn]

Enjoyed public school, hated high school, couldn't afford to dress half decent, looked poor was poor. You know you are by the way you are treated. Luckily for me, i knew who i was, an walked with my head up and still to this day. Time has improved my bank book along with hard work. I try to help with food banks, and gently used clothes etc. Hard enough going to school harder when you stand out. (Although living in a war torn country makes my story sound trivial.)

[Moderator]

For the most part, hated high school -- too many cliques, was very shy so always felt awkward, had (have) naturally curly hair which in the '60s was the worst because the style was long and straight (the ladies can empathize :smile2:), thought the kids in the "in crowd" were immature jerks and couldn't wait to graduate. Sorry, very few good memories to share but I thought yours were lovely, Srbo, and am glad you have them. :love:

[Spideyman]

Moved from NYC to a small town in south New Jersey ( if you were not born there, you didn't belong there) first year of High School. Attended the Catholic HS. I think they invented cliques. Hated every minute. Two years foreign language was required to attend university- A new regional HS was just built and I saw a way out- flunk French 1 just enough so it is was nonpass at the Catholic HS, but acceptable at the Regional HS.

Parents never understood how I managed French2, German 1 and Latin so well after having such a problem with French 1:blush:

University was a much better experience.

[Haunted]

A look back from the ruins to happier times is a heart-wrenching trip, Srbo. But sometimes we must make these trips to go on.

I was not in the popular groups as I always had my nose in a book. Dracula, Gone with the Wind, Les Miserable. My memories of the books are fond; of high school not so much.

[Matticus]

If I were describe my experience, it would be almost the same as Ms. Mods. Curly hair and all. :laugh:

[Baz]

There were alot of bumhugs in my High School, couldnt stand them. I left early to get away from them. I was very shy and nervous. I liked learning and enjoyed a few subjects but couldnt bare the gimps. :)

[October Rain]

High school was not necessarily a bad experience for me. I had lots of friends from all social groups. I didn't *fit* in with anyone of them, yet I was *accepted* by all. I was never bosom buddies with the most popular girl in school yet she and I would talk, be friendly, and hang out on a rare occasion. The same could be said for the less popular kids.

For some reason, my graduating class unofficially adopted the song "Hey Jude" as our song. I have no idea why this became our song. It hadnt been on the charts for over twenty years. Anyway.... I recall walking down the halls after graduation and nearly all of my graduating class (576 of us) started singing the song. There was something palpable in the air at that moment. Hope? Exhilaration? Freedom? I looked around and it dawned on me that most of these people I would never see again. I wondered which of us would be met with greatness and which with defeat. Briefly, I questioned my own mortality as I realized that my childhood was over and adulthood had began. When I think back about my high school days, this is the moment I think of first.

[Anni M]

The only time that I liked school was the years in private school...they never let me get away with any **** and my marks were epic, because I wanted to please them out of respect...fast forward to when we moved to a farming community. I was placed in a little red school house (8!8!8 grades in one!) and took the place of the sacrificial goat.
I was teased about my weight, called a city slicker, resented because my parents were financially in the higher bracket (I hate using the word rich) , had my bike trashed and some idiot threatened me with a knife when I was 12.
This blew.
In grades 7/8, since I had developed early, I was now a target for sexual molestation from the older boys--you know the type--in grade 8 and shaving--2 guys actually grabbed my arms and began dragging me off into the bushes...what would have happened there did not, as I was a strong kid and managed a backward summersault...they had to let me go or get their arms twisted off.
High school sucked harder, I wasn't a stoner, I wasn't a cheerleader,so I didn't fit into any 'group'.. I wasn't much of anything but a ghost who haunted the halls and at 16, I left the fine town of Meaford and did my 11 and 12 in one year, back in a private school and back in Toronto, where I felt safe.
Lets skip forward to 1999 and Meaford Elementary School reunion. I went.
And returned home an emotionally cleansed woman.

The ex-Jocks were all fat and balding, the ex-cheerleaders now fat and sad after popping out too many little babies with their lay-about ex jock hubbies. And half the stoners were either MIA or just dead...:oo:

Am I bitter? Not now. But I was for the longest time.:smile2:

[Srbo]

Very interesting tales there guys.
I`m a bit suprised, to a lot of you HS was a bad expierence...I somehow don`t understand that.

To me, it was the happiest time of my life...full of great friendships and laughter.

And believe it or not - we didn`t have bullies.
If someones was out of line, a few of us strongest guys in the school would make sure that the bully wannabe forgets very fast about his not so very nice intentions.
A slap on the back of his head, a kick at his behind or a simple very long glare right at him would usually do the trick.
Thanks for sharing all that, my friends.

[King Jacob]

Hmm...I must have overlooked this thread. I posted a thread about high school and graduation. Sorry, Ms. Mod, for being such an inconvenience. :smile2:

Very beautiful, Srbo. I'm even more misty-eyed now then I was before. :)

[SKfan2006]

i remembered something from kindergarten. the teacher was doing the usual ask the question have the student answer and as soon as she finished the question i had an itch on the back of my back and when i went to scratch it she thought i was raising my hand to answer but i told her i wasn't raising my hand to answer just to scratch an itch. also in kindergarten i accidently went into the girls room when i had to go so bad. when i went in i wondered where the urinals were. didn't realize for several years.

[BlueCeleste]

Srbo, that was beautiful. Now thinking back I had good and bad school days, I loved grade school, the teachers were wonderful and most classmates were fantastic.
Entering seventh grade, a lot of my old classmates were popular so I naturally hang out with them, as time changed and frankly these friends became less and less friends and more like back-stabbing ego maniacs, I shifted gear and decided to go on my own, holding only to one good friend. Who eventually betrayed me and thus destroyed our friendship, so yeah loneliness played a huge part in those days…still does today.
In ninth grade I had a bully, it was more annoying than anything, I didn’t go home crying, I was just irritated by her constant bombardment of insults and ill timed physical assaults.
One day she knocked my friends head against a desk and that was enough.
Even though I’m a pacifist, I called her bluff told her to show up after school, on the court and bring her crew.
I showed up with some basketball buddies, tall, tough, they were the perfect defense, we waited and waited, till dusk, she never showed up.
Next day she avoided me and so did other bullies after that. I had teachers who were bullies, it was so bad with my tenth grade math teacher, I had a nervous break down in his glass and stormed out, my mom had to come in and talk to the principal, afterward it was akward to say the least.
My English teacher was horrible, she tormented me and demeaned in front of friends and classmates. Always made remarks about my supposed lack of intelligence.
In some ways I can understand classmates bullying classmates, they’re confused and stupid but what excuse does a teacher have? They are the adults and really should know better.
In tenth and eleventh grade I hung out with my crush’s crew, they smoked and drank and they played music and I loved it. I had known my crush since grade four so we had a strange relationship, he dated my best friend for a time and I just try to remind myself we were just ‘friends’. But in reality it drove me insane. Eventually we did get together, it ended badly of course, I was too messed up and he was moving away and I refuse to go with him. It use to be one of my biggest regret but I recently bumped into him and saw it worked out for the best, he’s married and I’m not so I made my peace.
I think why high school is so tough on some is because there is a lot of BS. Everybody pretending to be someone else. For my part, I didn’t belong to any group, it’s overrated, belonging to some clique, everyone thinks the popular girls and boys are so happy but from my own experience I know it all just a façade, they are just as miserable as the loners, the outcasts and the stoners. I say better to be real miserable than fake happy.

[Srbo]

Thanks Celeste on sharing your story. :smile2:

And, this part you got dead on:


I say better to be real miserable than fake happy.

[Kim L.]

Grade school: Starting kindergarten, already knowing how to read. Being on Fire Patrol in 5th grade, Safety Patrol in 6th grade. Everyone going to Skateland on Friday nights in 5th & 6th grades. Winning the spelling bees, doing lousy in math, always reading and reading, writing poems & short stories.
Junior high: My friends falling away, turning against me, making faces behind my back in class. Having a crush on a guy for 2.5 years and never having the courage to say "Hi, Tom." My 1st real boyfriend, Tim. My best friend, Barb, in 9th grade. My staunch friend and defender Laurie, who I still miss.
High school: Tim & I broke up, Barb moved away, Laurie & I lost touch (she was 2 years younger). Intense loneliness. In a class of 843, having no one to eat lunch with in the cafeteria and eating it in the bathroom. Visiting Barb & buying my 1st Dylan album, thus beginning my love affair with rock & roll, which has never ended. M6y high school boyfriend--getting engaged my senior year (& getting divorced my senior year of college).

My peak year was 5th grade.Sometimes I wish I were still back there: good friends, great teacher, so many books to discover.