Tales of a Twelfth-Grade Nothing
I just turned 37, this week, which may or may not have evoked some of the reflections I’ve been having. It’s more likely that it involves my upcoming 20th high school reunion, which I won’t be attending due to scheduling conflicts, just like my 10th. (I actually am interested in going, but ironically enough, we’ll be in my home town for my wife’s high school reunion, then in her home town for my 20th. Nice, huh?) Anyway, the title of this post should serve to set the stage for what I’m about to write. I was very much a nerd, throughout my school years—still am, to some extent, though that matters much less to a 37-year-old. By high school, I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care what other people thought of me, and occasionally went to great lengths to prove it. But somewhere in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, unbeknownst even to me (but probably quite obvious to everyone else), I did care. Even as a senior, when I had finally gained a little cred, I still longed to be i...