By high school I’d decided that I wanted no trinkets (such as yearbooks) to remind me of the four miserable years I’d spent in high school. Truth be told, I probably brought on my own misery by telling my classmates that everything they held dear was stupid. Football – stupid. Proms – stupid. Cheerleading – really, really stupid. And what was smart? Protesting senseless wars, archaic dress codes and, well, just about anything. It’s a miracle my classmates didn’t drown me in PE, which I probably also protested.
However, before I became such a sanctimonious nincompoop, I was an insecure junior high schooler desperate to fit in. Not only did I buy yearbooks, but I had everyone I ran into sign the darn things, even the teachers!
Recently I cracked open my junior high school yearbook. I was looking…
View original post 739 more words