I was going to respond to Jenny’s post last evening, but everyone else seemed to be able to express themselves so eloquently that I didn’t think I needed to say any more. However, given the night to think about it, I decided to offer up my own reflections, as well.
High school was tough for me, but I think it really started in junior high. That was where the lines were truly drawn. That was when recess became Gym class, and my lack of athletic ability became apparent to the rest of the world. Up until that time, I was just an ordinary kid, a little nerdier than some, a little more feminine than most, but basically just your everyday little boy.
But it was junior high school that separated the jocks from the jerks. Prior to that time, you were able to choose your recreational activity. There was softball, dodge ball, and basketball; as well as marbles, swings, and even hopscotch. But in junior high school, and then again in high school, it became organized sports. So, if you weren’t good at the rope climb, or at basketball, or at the hurdles; all of your fellow classmates were immediately aware of your shortcomings. And sports and athletics went a long way in establishing the pecking order in school. No one was required to excel at all sports, although those that could were elevated to god-status; but making your mark in one or two sports immediately erased any previous demerits received for greasy hair, bad skin, or hand-me-down clothing. And soon, by word-of-mouth, the accomplishments of the few and the embarrassments of the many were passed from student to student and, even, from teacher to teacher. And just in case, someone missed out on the word, there were the letterman jackets to elevate those gifted enough into the higher realm.
By the time you reached high school, the letterman jacket was as good as a crown. Even those who came from other junior high schools were immediately singled out by the ever-present jacket. Junior high letterman jackets were, of course, allowed for your first year of high school with no reduction in status. Only if you failed to letter in your chosen sport, during your sophomore year, were you then stripped of your badge of honor.
And what about the rest of us, who excelled, or at least tried in other areas, such as band or debate or drama? Well, we lettered too. But our letters were not the big bold letters given for sports, but rather smaller, softer, letters that could never be attached to a jacket. No, these were only allowed on letterman sweaters. And unlike all those old movies, jocks in our school did not wear letterman sweaters. I remember sneaking those hideous letters home and burying them in my bottom drawer for fear my mother would see them and insist on buying me a sweater. And once in my possession, I would then be expected to wear that sweater to school. Nope. No way. Never.
Even just writing about these memories makes my cheeks flush and makes the bitterness return. How did it happen that athletics came to define masculinity, while theater was the true mark of femininity? Where did that put Paul Newman, and James Dean, and Brando? Why did doing movies make you a man, and performing onstage make you a sissy? Why was the captain of the football team, who was unable to string three words together, chosen to give a graduation speech, while the captain of the debate team had to be content to have an asterisk next to name in the list of graduating seniors? And finally, why does do over two hundred theater productions count for less than one local television commercial in the eyes of those same peers?
I truly believed that time was the great equalizer. I actually thought that class, status, and family wealth would count for less and less as the years go by. Well, I went back to my reunion, but I didn’t see that many changes. Less insecurities on my part, and more insecurities on theirs, but nothing else seemed really different. The cool kids were still the cool kids, and the others, regardless of accomplishments, remained invisible. Maybe it takes longer than thirty years. Maybe it will be the big 40th reunion where we can all get togehter and be ourselves.
Jenny, if you read this, remember what everyone else said here last night and today -- you pick your friends, you keep those friends, you defend those friends; and in the end, they will be your most treasured possessions.
