My middle school was literally in the same building as the high school. Eisenhower High and Ottawa Middle were separated by black, metal security gates that were padlocked by the janitors. If that sounds like a fire code violation, it might be today, but in 1980 we didn’t concern ourselves with such calamities.
Like inmates, we would peer through the gates at the older kids doing older-kid things like eating cinnamon rolls, smoking cigarettes and making out. What is this utopia? We could hardly wait to get to the other side.
Finally, my freshman year arrived. The middle school closed, the gates were removed, smoking was banned, and no girl was interested in making out with me. Also, the schoolwork was really hard. This wasn’t paradise after all. However, the cinnamon rolls were heavenly.
Each student was assigned their own locker, but you could share lockers with a friend. This way, one locker could be used for bulky coats and other clothing, while the other locker was strictly for books.
People would come to school in the late summer and pimp out their lockers with wallpaper, shelving, mirrors and pictures of hot celebrities. Some people even had carpet! It was hysterical when friends would have a major disagreement (usually over a boy), and they’d get kicked out of their locker. “Fine, but I’m taking my Duran Duran mini poster with me.”
High school was a magical time. I was there solely for relationships. I did just enough work to pass. I was all about performing, flirting with cheerleaders, Friday night football games, dances after games where I occasionally worked up the nerve to ask a girl to dance, but only if she was standing all by herself and the REO song was half over.
We had MTV, arcade games, Bubble Yum, boomboxes and cassette tapes. We wore alligators on our sweaters and Calvin Klein jeans. We had Magic, MJ, Sixteen Candles, Cosby and Purple Rain. We asked, “Where’s the beef?” and “Who you gonna call?” We hung out at McDonald’s, the Quad Theater and that little putt putt golf place. We played basketball until the sun went down, and then it was off to 7-11 for a Big Gulp. We had $900 cars and fake blonde hair from all the Sun-In we sprayed on our heads. My friends then are my friends now. If they need something, I’m there.
House Parties
A few times a year, there were secret parties at a kid’s house, usually while their parents were out of town. Sometimes, the parents actually hosted! There was drinking, a little pot smoking and A LOT of rumors about sex. Kids don’t party today. They’re social on social. They have “relationships” on screen, while house parties went the way of the dinosaur. Today, a parent would face criminal charges if there was a party with alcohol. And secrets? There’s no such thing. Everyone is one text away from being busted.
Missing Magic
My twin daughters graduated in 2018. Their experience was 100% different from mine. It’s not their fault. They just don’t know. The world changed. Sure, they had some fun, but I’ll bet my Flux Capacitor they would never describe their time in school as “magic.” When I tell stories of sneaking out at four o’clock in the morning with my friends just to cause trouble, their jaws drop and they say, “Outside? Why? It’s cold out there!”
The high school experience is dead, but nobody’s throwing fistfuls of dirt on the coffin, and nobody is grieving, because it doesn’t feel like a loss to today’s kids.
It does to me.
I’ll be over here with a cinnamon roll and my memories.
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