KIT

“To a nice girl I met this year in band.” 

“To a very smart girl I met in Algebra I.”

“Psych-woman extraordinaire. You sit in the first seat in the first row because (this is my hypothesis) you are so cool.”

These are actual yearbook quotes from my junior year of high school. 

I’ve become nostalgic recently because this year marks 30 years since I graduated from high school. My other three yearbooks are packed away in the attic but for some reason the book from 1991 has rested quietly on a bookshelf in my basement. I brought the yearbook up recently and my children turned the pages with wonder and curiosity. The comments came fast and furious.

“Awe mom, you are so pretty.”

“I can’t believe he wrote THAT in your yearbook!”

“Show me the guys you dated.”

It’s funny because I came across one entry, from a classmate who I remain close with to this day, about a funny incident in French class. She commented, “thirty years from now this will not make any sense to you.”

It has been 30 years and, lucky for me, time hasn’t erased the humor of that particular moment when I was supposed to be paying attention but was arguing with a cute classmate only to be put on the spot by the teacher. 

Some of the people who signed my yearbook, I vaguely remember. Some of the people I remember very well. 

This yearbook has particular sentimentality since it came out after I had endured a tough breakup. This ex signed the very last page in a cryptic way alluding to how he was soon going to ask a friend of mine out. I remember pouring over his words, looking for some hidden meaning. Anything to make sense of why he dumped me. 

Reading over his words I am reminded of this moment in time and the pain and confusion that came along with it. But looking back with eyes that have seen and experienced quite a bit in 30 years, I can now see how insignificant this breakup really was, how I am better off with the way things turned out and how happy I am that high school was but a brief time in my life. 

Currently, at my kids’ high school, the yearbooks come out after the school year is over. I guess the publishing company does this so they can include up to date photos from the prom and graduation for the seniors. 

But having those photos is a tradeoff. It eliminates a chance to allow classmates to make a permanent footprint in their story, with ink and innocence, and to have a record of funny moments, impressions, and requests to K-I-T keep in touch. (I came across so many phone numbers in my yearbook, I'm half tempted to call and see who picks up.)

These books are a precious time capsule that nothing can replace. I am sorry my kids will not have that same experience when they flip through their high school yearbooks. But now, 30 years after the fact, these precious entries remind me of a self-conscious girl trying to discover who she really is. It reminds me of the “kids” who helped make high school bearable and for the humor that made every day worthwhile. 

High school was hard for me because I came in basically as a stranger. I had attended Catholic school for eight years prior and had to start over in grade 9. Only two of my classmates were making the same public-school transition and, in a freshman class of 300, I didn’t see them that much. 

There were a couple kids I knew from participating in “shop” classes (wood, metal, cooking, and sewing) at the nearby public middle school which helped slightly boost my list of familiar faces when entering freshman year. 

I went from wearing a uniform every day to trying to find my sense of style. I went from listening to the Beatles constantly to discovering alternative music and I went from being a solo musician to being part of a band. I was a work in progress on a long and winding road but I think I turned out ok. 

The only thing I would change about my high school self is I would have liked to have more confidence. This is something that came with time but I look at my 17-year-old daughter today and see how bold and self-assured she is and I know things would have been a bit easier for me if I had just one fourth of her attitude. But maybe, just maybe, my trials and tribulations paved the way for an easier ride for my younger generation.

Looking back on 30 years, I am filled mostly with gratitude for the four-year experience. The pages of my yearbook indicate there was more good than bad and surviving high school made me realize I could survive anything. 

But the thing that stands out the most, are the people that accompanied me on that journey, who signed my yearbook pages, and who in their own special way helped create the person I am today. 

Thank you, Class of 92!

*My blog is featured in the "On My Mind" column each week in The Valley Mirror. This publication covers the Steel Valley and Woodland Hills communities.*