School Reunion
Content
School Reunion As I’m walking towards this stupid school reunion that I can’t believe I agreed to go to, a few things cross my mind. Firstly, no one will even remember me. Why am I agreeing to spend my night listening to a bunch of old class ‘mates’ tell me about how well they’re doing, how cute their kids are, what car they drive and how big their house is whilst not caring a single bit about how I could possibly be doing. I don’t have to be here. Admittedly I could be at home doing better things, such as…such as…eating chicken (and I really hate chicken). I’d even rather be in school than go to this poxy reunion. With each footstep closer to the hall in which this abomination is taking place, I am dreading it more, filling with hatred for every person. I get the urge to turn around and go home but my feet won’t let me. I don’t know why, maybe they’re all doing terribly now, oh how wonderful that will be! They might have learned the hard way that being popular in school counts for nothing in the real world. That wearing 2 inches of make up on your face won’t make you a model, that playing sports won’t always win you a gold medal in the Olympics and that doing drugs won’t make you Mick Jagger but you’re more likely to end up like Kurt Cobain. The thought of this makes me excited and prosperous. What on earth could those people amount to?! I was just your average boy in school. Kept myself to myself whilst all the ‘popular’ kids talked about how drunk they got on the weekend, who kissed who and who passed out. I didn’t go to these parties, me. I stayed at home, feeding, tending and watching Razor, my pet newt. Or I’d watch TV documentaries. They were my favourite. I used to read quite a lot too. That was a main reason why I didn’t really fit in at school because they weren’t the generic magazines about the latest bands, or about the football, which apparently means it’s not ‘cool’. There was one boy who was just as unusual as me however, Neville Hammond. He didn’t really talk to anyone either. I sat next to him in science; we used to work together, dissecting this, that and the other. We didn’t have to say much to each other though, we would usually just roll our eyes when one of the popular kids asked the teacher something stupid, like ‘do you know Einstein?’. Science was my favourite class. It was the most interesting, and it was the only class where I wasn’t alone. Neville was very smart. All the kids thought I was clever but Neville was on another level, I think he ended up at Cambridge University. I’ve not seen him since school so he’s probably off doing weird and wonderful things, because he was just like that. How jealous of him I am? He has better things to do than go to this reunion and see people from the past which have most probably not changed from their obnoxious selves. Then again, 15 years have passed; people could have changed, hopefully for the better. There was a guy in school called Josh Roberts. He played every sport possible. Most well-known by his peers as the schools rugby captain and he made sure of it that he was known. He thought the world of himself. He thought he could get any girl he wanted. He thought he could beat up anyone that got in his way or annoyed his short temper. He thought he was special. However, despite him being a self-proclaimed Rocky, he wasn’t very intelligent, though I will give him credit; it is incredible how someone could play so many sports with so little co-ordination. I still remember in school; it was lesson time, nobody was around but me. I had left lesson because I had a nosebleed (which I am still convinced was brought on from the headache the pair of airhead blondes that sat behind gave me because they kept going on about what had happened in the latest episode of ‘Saved by the Bell’) I was walking back to class and he was carrying a bunch
of books, (which I assumed he had no intentions to ever read) his small-span of attention was drawn to his reflection in a class window and whilst ‘checking himself out’, the distraction caused him to not notice that someone was walking out of a class… into the door he went. Of course, this incident and the embarrassment it had caused him wasn’t his fault, so he automatically took it out on the younger student that opened the door in the first place and gave him some stern words which quite frankly didn’t seem to phase the youngster at all. That’s just how un-influential the kid was. He thought he affected everyone and had a big impact on the ‘social circle’ of the school, but in reality, he really, really didn’t. Another one of the popular crew was Mandy. Never was there a time in class I didn’t see her playing with her hair, chewing a ghastly shade of pink bubble-gum or playing footsie with a different boy every lesson under the table. Thankfully, I was never one of those boys. If she ever dared to play it with me, oh I’d of kicked her. Hard! I didn’t quite understand the obsession with her at the time. I still don’t to this day. Just didn’t see the appeal in a girl like her. Don’t get me wrong I was a typical boy interested in girls and what not, but not that kind. I was more into a respectful female. My only wish is that she’s learnt that her ‘good-looks’ weren’t everything and that she’s probably now scrubbing bathroom floors somewhere. Oh the stories about her, every Monday morning you’d hear another story of which boy she’d been with, what she’s done. I bet her parents would have been so proud if they’d known. Anyway, these stories would somehow impress the boys (probably because they knew they’d have a chance). The only key memory I have of her still makes me laugh. We were in English, where she used to sit next to me and which was by far not her strongest of subjects to say the least and the fact that our teacher was fresh out of university and hit the gym 4 times a week, didn't exactly help her much. She'd always be asking him for help, as you can imagine, even if we she did understand the work because she just wants her hands on any guy that owns a car and is half good looking. Well anyway, our teacher Mr. Norton had told her he'd be really impressed if she got a good grade on a test we were about to do in class. Well, she was concentrating so much on copying me so accurately that she even copied the rude and slightly offensive answer I had planted for question 6. Of course I was clever enough to erase this before the papers were handed in. She on the other hand was totally unaware of what she had written down, it's safe to say she was far from Mr. Norton's favourite student after that; excluded for a week, isolation for a few days, and now she was out of my English set now, it worked perfectly for me, a lot less annoyance in my lessons and allowed me to get a good-ish grade. There were a lot more people in school that annoyed me, and I mean a lot, but I always remember those two, mainly because at prom, they were prom king and queen and thought they were actually royalty, except they probably don't even know anything about the royal family or monarchs. They really thought it gave them the right to look down at others though, which is why I detested them; however I know they won't really be up to much now. Their royalty has probably worn off by now, but I bet they still have enough confidence. Now here I stand just outside of the village hall, just about to walk in, I take a deep breath as I know what I am putting myself through, but its one night, how bad can it be? Another thing running through my head is the thought of alcohol, I'm not usually one to drink a lot but it could be one of the only things that will help me get through how
painful tonight will be, on the other hand I have work tomorrow, do I really want to bother drinking? There's bound to be someone in there already drunk, throwing themselves about to the music. So I walk in, and my first thought is 'where is everybody?', there is literally about 10 people in here, all this anticipation for this and it's even worse than I had imagined. I thought if loads of people were here, like I thought, at least I wouldn't have to talk to fake people like Josh and Mandy, but no, as far as I recognise, those 2 are both here and there will be no way to avoid them. Oh how I look forward to small talk with them. As I stand here, with this stream of consciousness everyone is looking at me, I realise it's too late to escape now I've been noticed, so I go make small talk with some people I don't even remember. As the night wears on, the drinks begins to flow and Mandy's laugh gets louder, higher and more irritating, as this happens, Josh's head and ego gets bigger and bigger. All of a sudden, I see Josh begin to walk towards me. As he walks towards me, step by step, it seems he is coming in slow motion. but in my mind it's a 16 year old version of Josh walking towards me, wearing that dreadful school uniform in which he personalised himself .I quickly zone out with this and am greeted with 'wassup man'. Who even says that? Who does he think he is? With just two words he's reminded me why I can't stand him. Whilst he's rambling on about himself, I'm telling myself how much I hate him...in my head of course. It actually mystifies me how a man like him, who clearly isn't anything special, can be so confident about themselves. He just hasn’t changed in the slightest. As he continues to manage talking excessively about himself, I wonder what I should say if he asks me what I'm doing? I can't tell him the truth can I? Then I think. How stupid of me! He’s not going to ask me how I'm doing, he doesn't care does he? As I'm thinking this, he asks me 'what do you do now?' Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t be so sure of myself. I’ve been stood with Josh for less than five minutes and his ‘qualities’ have already started to rub off onto me. I'm stunned. I hesitate for a few seconds and then say 'uhh..I'm a...philanthropist'. Immediately after saying this I question myself why I said it. I wanted to sound clever. Now I am dreading when he inevitably asks what that is and I have no idea. Luckily, he shrugs it off, says ‘ah cool man’ and continues to talk about himself. Shock. I decide to give myself a well deserved break from Josh and as politely as I can, excuse myself from the ‘conversation’ ( Even though I thought a conversation involved adjacency pairs where two people converge in talking, but whatever) and make my way to the bathroom. I scan the hall for the nearest ‘toilet’ sign and my eyes unfortunately meet with the last person I wanted to see. Mandy. I thought she would have better things to do, like myself of course, than come to this thing, being the major socialite she is. This makes me think she had hopefully grown up a bit and changed. I soon begin to realise that after 2 seconds of interaction with her that I was in fact; wrong. She came prancing over to me in her ridiculous 6 inch heels which quite frankly gave off a very bad impression, and tried to ‘reminisce’ on all the ‘good times’ we shared in English. The whole time I just wanted to clarify to her that the best time I experienced in my English career at school was in fact when the delinquent idiot left the set. Obviously, I refrained from doing so and just smiled and occasionally bobbed my head as she later on went to tell me that she and Mr Norton went on a date when she wasn’t quite so pubescent and had left school. I didn’t ask how it went, although she clearly wanted me to ask her to elaborate but I just shuddered at the thought of a teacher going out with an ex student and how morally wrong it is. The longer the conversation and small-talk later went on,
the more it occurred to me that I needed to head off to the toilet and then make an exit. I knew I shouldn’t have come. Curiosity had beaten me and people were exactly how I remembered them to be. Self-centred and of just no interest to me. With this thought, I decided to carry my plan through and leave, I doubt anyone would even notice or even care. Whilst walking home, my thoughts turn to work the next morning. As I walk into work the next day, I feel the same feeling of regret as I do every day, the regret of not choosing a different profession to work in. I hate the environment I work in. Walking through the door, I see the next generation of the ‘popular’, cocky children that I grew up with. I hate being a teacher.
of books, (which I assumed he had no intentions to ever read) his small-span of attention was drawn to his reflection in a class window and whilst ‘checking himself out’, the distraction caused him to not notice that someone was walking out of a class… into the door he went. Of course, this incident and the embarrassment it had caused him wasn’t his fault, so he automatically took it out on the younger student that opened the door in the first place and gave him some stern words which quite frankly didn’t seem to phase the youngster at all. That’s just how un-influential the kid was. He thought he affected everyone and had a big impact on the ‘social circle’ of the school, but in reality, he really, really didn’t. Another one of the popular crew was Mandy. Never was there a time in class I didn’t see her playing with her hair, chewing a ghastly shade of pink bubble-gum or playing footsie with a different boy every lesson under the table. Thankfully, I was never one of those boys. If she ever dared to play it with me, oh I’d of kicked her. Hard! I didn’t quite understand the obsession with her at the time. I still don’t to this day. Just didn’t see the appeal in a girl like her. Don’t get me wrong I was a typical boy interested in girls and what not, but not that kind. I was more into a respectful female. My only wish is that she’s learnt that her ‘good-looks’ weren’t everything and that she’s probably now scrubbing bathroom floors somewhere. Oh the stories about her, every Monday morning you’d hear another story of which boy she’d been with, what she’s done. I bet her parents would have been so proud if they’d known. Anyway, these stories would somehow impress the boys (probably because they knew they’d have a chance). The only key memory I have of her still makes me laugh. We were in English, where she used to sit next to me and which was by far not her strongest of subjects to say the least and the fact that our teacher was fresh out of university and hit the gym 4 times a week, didn't exactly help her much. She'd always be asking him for help, as you can imagine, even if we she did understand the work because she just wants her hands on any guy that owns a car and is half good looking. Well anyway, our teacher Mr. Norton had told her he'd be really impressed if she got a good grade on a test we were about to do in class. Well, she was concentrating so much on copying me so accurately that she even copied the rude and slightly offensive answer I had planted for question 6. Of course I was clever enough to erase this before the papers were handed in. She on the other hand was totally unaware of what she had written down, it's safe to say she was far from Mr. Norton's favourite student after that; excluded for a week, isolation for a few days, and now she was out of my English set now, it worked perfectly for me, a lot less annoyance in my lessons and allowed me to get a good-ish grade. There were a lot more people in school that annoyed me, and I mean a lot, but I always remember those two, mainly because at prom, they were prom king and queen and thought they were actually royalty, except they probably don't even know anything about the royal family or monarchs. They really thought it gave them the right to look down at others though, which is why I detested them; however I know they won't really be up to much now. Their royalty has probably worn off by now, but I bet they still have enough confidence. Now here I stand just outside of the village hall, just about to walk in, I take a deep breath as I know what I am putting myself through, but its one night, how bad can it be? Another thing running through my head is the thought of alcohol, I'm not usually one to drink a lot but it could be one of the only things that will help me get through how
painful tonight will be, on the other hand I have work tomorrow, do I really want to bother drinking? There's bound to be someone in there already drunk, throwing themselves about to the music. So I walk in, and my first thought is 'where is everybody?', there is literally about 10 people in here, all this anticipation for this and it's even worse than I had imagined. I thought if loads of people were here, like I thought, at least I wouldn't have to talk to fake people like Josh and Mandy, but no, as far as I recognise, those 2 are both here and there will be no way to avoid them. Oh how I look forward to small talk with them. As I stand here, with this stream of consciousness everyone is looking at me, I realise it's too late to escape now I've been noticed, so I go make small talk with some people I don't even remember. As the night wears on, the drinks begins to flow and Mandy's laugh gets louder, higher and more irritating, as this happens, Josh's head and ego gets bigger and bigger. All of a sudden, I see Josh begin to walk towards me. As he walks towards me, step by step, it seems he is coming in slow motion. but in my mind it's a 16 year old version of Josh walking towards me, wearing that dreadful school uniform in which he personalised himself .I quickly zone out with this and am greeted with 'wassup man'. Who even says that? Who does he think he is? With just two words he's reminded me why I can't stand him. Whilst he's rambling on about himself, I'm telling myself how much I hate him...in my head of course. It actually mystifies me how a man like him, who clearly isn't anything special, can be so confident about themselves. He just hasn’t changed in the slightest. As he continues to manage talking excessively about himself, I wonder what I should say if he asks me what I'm doing? I can't tell him the truth can I? Then I think. How stupid of me! He’s not going to ask me how I'm doing, he doesn't care does he? As I'm thinking this, he asks me 'what do you do now?' Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t be so sure of myself. I’ve been stood with Josh for less than five minutes and his ‘qualities’ have already started to rub off onto me. I'm stunned. I hesitate for a few seconds and then say 'uhh..I'm a...philanthropist'. Immediately after saying this I question myself why I said it. I wanted to sound clever. Now I am dreading when he inevitably asks what that is and I have no idea. Luckily, he shrugs it off, says ‘ah cool man’ and continues to talk about himself. Shock. I decide to give myself a well deserved break from Josh and as politely as I can, excuse myself from the ‘conversation’ ( Even though I thought a conversation involved adjacency pairs where two people converge in talking, but whatever) and make my way to the bathroom. I scan the hall for the nearest ‘toilet’ sign and my eyes unfortunately meet with the last person I wanted to see. Mandy. I thought she would have better things to do, like myself of course, than come to this thing, being the major socialite she is. This makes me think she had hopefully grown up a bit and changed. I soon begin to realise that after 2 seconds of interaction with her that I was in fact; wrong. She came prancing over to me in her ridiculous 6 inch heels which quite frankly gave off a very bad impression, and tried to ‘reminisce’ on all the ‘good times’ we shared in English. The whole time I just wanted to clarify to her that the best time I experienced in my English career at school was in fact when the delinquent idiot left the set. Obviously, I refrained from doing so and just smiled and occasionally bobbed my head as she later on went to tell me that she and Mr Norton went on a date when she wasn’t quite so pubescent and had left school. I didn’t ask how it went, although she clearly wanted me to ask her to elaborate but I just shuddered at the thought of a teacher going out with an ex student and how morally wrong it is. The longer the conversation and small-talk later went on,
the more it occurred to me that I needed to head off to the toilet and then make an exit. I knew I shouldn’t have come. Curiosity had beaten me and people were exactly how I remembered them to be. Self-centred and of just no interest to me. With this thought, I decided to carry my plan through and leave, I doubt anyone would even notice or even care. Whilst walking home, my thoughts turn to work the next morning. As I walk into work the next day, I feel the same feeling of regret as I do every day, the regret of not choosing a different profession to work in. I hate the environment I work in. Walking through the door, I see the next generation of the ‘popular’, cocky children that I grew up with. I hate being a teacher.
