History and Geography
I went to high school in the days when they were experimenting with “Humanities,” which meant to be a mixture of English, history, etc., but was actually a glorified form of applied psychology. I asked to learn World History, but the school didn’t offer it. We were taught American History and American Government, but not being American, I wasn’t interested. Kind of like, since the school was in America, it wasn’t interested in the rest of the world. The treatment of geography was worse: we learned none of that at all! Don’t ask me to find Cambodia on an atlas!
Literature
To say that my school was America-centric would be an understatement. We did study American Literature, but world? Not a chance! I only found out that Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre existed after I moved to England. While in Iowa, I’d never been exposed to Shakespeare, Byron, CS Lewis, Dostoyevsky or much of anything besides Twain, Steinbeck, and Salinger. I felt kind of embarrassed when I saw the astonishment on my British classmate’s faces as I urgently asked them what I should be reading. On the other hand, it was a great advantage to me that I could enjoy the books I missed in high school without being forced to read and analyze them. You can find me curled up in a chair enjoying Mr. Rochester.
It’s Okay to be Smart
Nowadays high schools offer TAG programs, AP classes, and more. In my day, not so much. I didn’t crack a textbook and never had to study for a test, but was neither encouraged to seek extra learning opportunities nor praised by teachers. My fellow students called me “the brain,” and it was NOT a compliment! As a result, I sometimes used my abilities to help struggling students to—ahem—cheat, but was ashamed of them. I hid my report card and avoided talking about the joy I found in learning with all but my closest friends. So, don’t ask me about the time my friend, who had lots of brawn, but little else, told me he would drop his pencil the number of times of the question he didn’t know the answer to, and I should sneeze once for “a,” twice for “b,” etc. Yeah. It didn’t go well.
It’s Okay not to be Cool
This one is related to the previous. After all, in my day being a brain made you, by definition, not cool. What was worse was that I’m not a follower by nature. I’m an analyzer, and I didn’t feel I wanted to join in with cool capers. What I wish I’d known then was that, in 20, 30, 40 years time, having been cool in high school would be meaningless. Us old folks now know that we’re all just people; some are leaders and some are followers; some are good at math and some are good at knitting; some are good at running (not many by this age) and some are good at acting. Grandparents aren’t cool, but this one is happy that way.
Speaking up is Okay
I’m the daughter of Dutch immigrants who moved from Canada to the USA just before I started fourth grade. That meant I had NO IDEA how things work in the American culture. Oh, how I wanted to play an instrument in the band! Oh, how I secretly yearned to be part of the high school theater. But what I didn’t realize was that a person needs to say something. Maybe I assumed that the teachers would specially invite us to participate in extra-curricular activities. Obviously, they didn’t ask me because, well, I’m not cool. Now, logic told me that some of the folks in those activities weren’t cool, but I figured they must have other qualities that I lacked. So much shame flooded me that I didn’t dare to ask what I was missing. I love that my children and grandchildren know it’s okay to ask for what you want.
Jesus Loves Me
I think this is the one thing I needed to know more than anything. But I didn’t. Perhaps I was told, but if I was, I didn’t believe it. I could see fellow students who were admired for their faith, but had no idea how to get what they had. I asked the pastor at our local church, but he told me to dig a ditch (true story!). I did it, but he still didn’t tell me. I asked kids who went to youth group with me, but they didn’t seem to understand the question. Finally, I gave up—it seemed I wasn’t good enough for this either. Depression ensued.
A few months after moving to England, I started attending the services at my university. There I heard a pastor preach on the ten commandments, one every week. He kept telling us they were impossible to keep, and that was why Jesus made a way for us. It made logical sense to me. I knew I wasn’t good: I was under-educated, uncool, a brain, unconfident, and, frankly, a sinner. There was no way I would ever be able to make myself good enough to be a part of God’s family. I needed a Savior!
Finally, I got it. Jesus loves me even though I have a lot to learn, I wear dorky clothes, I love academics and writing, I struggle with anxiety, and I don’t even live up to my own standards. But He thinks I’m so awesome that He was willing to die for my sins so I can be part of God’s family. I’m very glad that, even though I didn’t know this in high school, I did find out before I left college. And it made all the difference in the world. Finally, I’m cool.