As I stand in a painfully long security line at LAX’s Southwest terminal, true to form, I’ve managed to choose the slowest line. It’s filled with people who seem utterly perplexed by the “put your things on the conveyor belt” part of the process. We’re crawling at a snail’s pace. Eventually, my impatience bubbles over, and I can’t help but make a quip to anyone within earshot. “If we move any slower, we might just start going backwards,” I remark.
Suddenly, I hear someone call my name from behind. Turning around, I see Mark, an old high school friend I haven’t seen in two decades. I’ve always liked him, but I’m surprised he recognized me. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he says with a smile. “Still the redhead with the killer shoe game.” I glance down at my sparkly sandals and feel a twinge of embarrassment when I realize I had a nearly identical pair in high school. It’s flattering he remembers, but also a bit horrifying to think my tastes haven’t evolved much since then.
Panic sets in. “Oh no!” I think. “I don’t want to be the same person I was in high school. Those years were a disaster! I’ve worked too hard to become someone different!” This thought spirals through my mind throughout my flight from LA to JFK. Like many, I look back on those high school years with a cringe. My main objective back then was to blend into the background. I had braces, overused hairspray, and was a big fan of shoulder pads. The idea of being seen as that same invisible girl frightens me.
However, as I reflect more, I realize that high school had its bright spots. I had an amazing group of girlfriends—something I’ve been trying to recreate ever since. The fashion of the 1980s was wild and fun, and the music was iconic. But I often felt like a character in a John Hughes movie, except in my version, Jake Ryan didn’t rescue me from awkwardness; instead, he and his friends tried to cheat off me in AP math or egged my house after a party.
The truth is, I still jam to the same tunes from high school. Morrissey is never far from my playlist, and The English Beat still gets me dancing. While my style has evolved past shoulder pads and penny loafers, my hair still shares some resemblance to what it looked like in my senior portrait—thankfully, I didn’t overdo the hairspray! And yes, I’m still the witty redhead who can’t resist a new pair of shoes. Those high school experiences shaped my tastes and, in many ways, continue to define who I am.
Perhaps I’m not as different from my high school self as I thought. Maybe we all carry pieces of that time with us. High school is where we first explore our own tastes and begin to express ourselves. It’s the time we might experience our first heartbreak or become someone’s crush. Sure, it’s four years filled with awkward moments, but it’s also a period brimming with potential.
So, the next time I bump into an old high school friend, I’ll take it as a compliment if they say I haven’t changed at all. Upon reflection, maybe high school wasn’t so terrible after all. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t either.
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In summary, reflecting on high school reveals that while we may change, the essence of who we are often remains. Embrace those memories, for they’re part of the journey that shapes us.