Pssst....

So, I hope I'm not the only one out there who stashed all her notes that she passed back and forth in Jr. High/high school.  For 27 years I've been schlepping around a bag, stashed in a keepsake bin, of every tawdry/boring thing that happened in my pubescent life.  Emphasis on the boring.  That pile pictured above is about half of what it used to be.  Every once in awhile in the past few years I would read a few, either bless or curse the person who wrote it, and then shred it.  But now all of it, as of a half hour ago, is gone by the way of the shredder. Why?  Well, it is part of a declutterting mission for the month of February:  if it doesn't make me feel good to have it in the house, get rid of it.  The 'note bag' has been sitting on top of a book case in our bedroom for almost a year.  No idea why I put it up there, except to get it out of the way when I was sorting through a bin.  But I've looked at it, every day, since then.  I knew the memories that lurked within, and I finally needed to put them to rest.  Also, you just can't leave evidence of that stuff laying around for little prying eyes to read and wonder who the hell their mother really is.

Heck, I wondering the same thing right now.

For the past hour, I've been mentally wandering the halls of my Jr. High and high school, lounging in the bedrooms of my friends (back in the day), standing before lockers and sitting in uncomfortable desks.  It all came back, in bits and pieces.  And yet - I don't ever care to go back again.  So into the shredder they went. 

The intricately folded notebook papers.

The locker numbers and combinations.

The complaints about boring teachers.

The suggestions for boys who might like me.

The suggestions that so-and-so is a bitch.

The suggestions for the horror movie we need to watch on our next sleepover.

The fights.

The spats.

The tiffs.

The "I'm so glad you are my friend - let's be best friends 4-eva!"

The slam books. (remember those?)

The attempts to guess at who you were going to marry.

The attempts to guess at how many kids you were going to have.

The attempts to guess at what your job would be, the car you would drive, and how you would die.

The attempts to guess at how good your sex life would be.  (really?  In 8th grade?)

The opinions about the person in front of you, beside you and behind you in class.

The fear of getting caught passing notes.  (But you did it anyway).

The critiques of the reproduction films shown in Health class.

The attempts to write in code. (Jenelle's specialty)

At the end of my reading session, I had a multitude of feelings.

I didn't like myself very much.

I felt like some of my choices in friends were pretty poor. 

I wondered how I ever passed eighth grade.  I didn't seem to be too concerned with homework.

I hated all of the bickering/sniping/bragging/complaining/comparing that was going on - especially during the high school years - and most of it was because of me.

I struggled to think of any good memories from those days - apart from band.

I missed some of my friends very much - but the geographical distance and passage of years has taken it's toll.

My best friend from early Jr. High years, Juliette, was the absolute best at folding and decorating notes.  She moved away to Montana before we moved on to high school.

My best friend in high school, Sheila, had the best handwriting, hands down.

I didn't like the nickname "Larry"

Those years were so hard to navigate for me, emotionally.  I think that a lot of the 'baggage' that I carry around - to this day, is directly related to how difficult those years were for me.  I was an instigator of a lot of the fighting between friends.  I expected friends to take sides, I held grudges, I was sooo passive-aggressive in how I handled arguments and I was too easily swayed by peer-pressure - and I used peer pressure to my advantage as well.  I grew up years before I should have - and I blame mostly myself.  What saddens me most is that I didn't place an ounce of importance on my education.  It was all about the socializing.  I can count on one hand the educational achievements that I am proud of from those years.

If I am to take anything away from this trip down memory lane, it is only that I will do my absolute best to steer my children away from ever entertaining the thought of going to public school. The social angst of those 6-8 grade years is just absolutely ridiculous.  No - I don't think that my kids would make the same mistakes that I did, but school is even more of a sketchy social haven today then it was back then.  They get enough of a workout with their interpersonal skill-set as it is, despite being a homeschooler. 

Call me overprotective - but seriously - would you ever want to revisit to your Jr. High days?

In closing,

here is a test of acronyms from the note-passing days.

S/S/S (which can mean two different things)

L/Y/L/A/S

W/B or W/B/S

I must be getting old, because I can't remember any more.  And I can't go sift through the note pile and look for more, because they are shredded.  And I am thankful for that.  :)