Another journaler put up some pictures from her high school yearbook, and it got me to thinking.

In June, I will have been out of high school for… let's see… 14 years. Yow.

I was one of the invisible kids, but not invisible enough. I hated school. The exposure I felt at school was terrible. It felt like every corridor was a gauntlet, every "good thing" for me was an opportunity for them. I didn't go out for dance or theater because I was sure I couldn't make it. I wasn't part of the popular group. I didn't play an instrument so band was out of the question. I was never an athlete. I wasn't a "brain." Beginning in sixth grade I felt that being noticed by my schoolmates was not really a good thing, and would, more often than not bring humiliation. I made friends that were not really my friends. I was a friend to some only when it suited me. I was a nerd, a geek, a dork. Not even my sister admitted to knowing me at times.

I couldn't wait to get out. I was sure my whole life was waiting for me beyond the cinder block walls and floor to ceiling "wall chalkboards." I was right, too.

My business teacher wanted to put me into a work co-op program towards the end of my junior year in high school. I would attend school for half the day and then go to work for half the day. I panicked, of course, when she approached me. I could never do that. You mean I'd be in a real office doing real work?! I'm not good enough for that. She promised that if I couldn't handle it, she would take me out of the program. I pondered on it for a bit, weighed the pros and cons. One big, major attractive pro was the fact that I would be out of school for half the day, every day. I'd also be making a couple of bucks for my effort. Those two things made me face my fear and I took the leap.

I loved it. I was suddenly able to "legally" leave school while everyone else had 3 hours left. I was making a little money, and it wasn't at the local McDonald's. The people at this office didn't know me. They didn't make fun of me. They weren't mean. They had some measure of respect for me. They didn't seem to notice what a geek I was, and they never commented on my lack of coolness. (My sister on the other hand, was very cool)

I did pretty well at that office job. I had a lot to learn, and they were willing to teach me. I was the youngest employee there for a long time. The woman I was now working for began at that company in the same way I did. There was another student from my high school on the same type of work program, but he worked in the shop. He was one of the popular, athletic kids. He had no reason to know that I existed. I tried to avoid him. He might tell the others what a dork I was. (Years later that guy caught my garter at our wedding. That, however, is a story for another day)

My confidence came slowly and I left that company after receiving a degree from the local community college. After a brief stint at another unstable company, I wound up here at GSC. I'm doing quite well, thank you.

I avoided my high school reunions, much to the dismay of one of my high school friends. Why would I emotionally put myself through that all again? Why give them the power to make me feel bad about myself all over again? No thank you. I already had everything I wanted from that high school. A friend or two and a diploma.

I have news for my high school alumni. I'm still a dork, a nerd, a dweeb. I can see some of you aren't surprised. I've found a home here with other nerds and dorks, some quirkier than others. Some admit it, some don't. I may still be a dweeb, but I've finally accepted it. After all, the geek shall inherit the earth.

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