March 11, 2003. 9:56 p.m..
Slow Dive
In a fit of extreme boredom, I visited my middle school's web site today. Actually, it wasn't entirely boredom -- I went there because I think my middle school vice principal is dead and for some reason I thought this the best place to start. I think he died years and years ago (if he did indeed die), so why I actually looked there first is beyond me. Well, it's the first match that appears on Google so maybe that's it. But anyways. I started browsing around the site and found that there is a section devoted to faculty. Of course I had to browse through the listings, and I found out that practically NONE of the teachers that were there when I attended are teaching anymore! There are all these young teachers there now! Luckily Heidi was online at the time and we were able to discuss what's become of our alma mater.
Like how completely unfair it is that when we were kids, all of our teachers were old. Like as old or older than our parents. Nowadays, teachers are fresh out of college (she's two years older than me -- we went to BIS together) and fun and get crazy drunk on the weekends. Why didn't we get such cool role models to inspire us to achieve as much as we could when we were going through puberty?? In high school, we had old teachers too which was a bummer. But anyways, the only staff member still around who was there in the good old days ('89-'92) is Mr. Tinkham, who looks exactly the same (I still remember his very distinctive voice) except now he has a lot of gray hair. Oh, and there's Cicero the Janitor, who was a cool cat. And craaaaazy Mrs. Greenlee and Ms. Weeks and Mr. Stephens who had a beard. And Ms. House, who still has short hair! And somewhere along the way, Stephen's mom started working there.
It's hard to believe it's been 11 years since I left that awkward place. There's nothing like wading through the mire of memory lane to make you feel old. That, and watching kids grow up. Do NOT work with kids if you'd like to avoid the feeling of time flying by. Like when you first start working with them when they're four and you can pick them up and throw them in the air, and then a few years pass but you don't notice it and the next thing you know you're shadowing them in first grade and they're too big to carry and they can add and subtract without any help. I don't know what I'm going to do when I have kids of my own. They'll be like little talking hourglasses of my own mortality. Dang, even watching this one grow up is gonna be hard. Look how cute Baby is!!!
In memory of Mr. Osberg. Even though we never spoke a word to each other, you probably still knew my name anyways because that's what good administrators do.
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